by K. Weikel
Eleven
I scramble to my feet and jiggle the handle.
Footsteps to my right.
I bolt to the left, back the way I came, and backtrack to Peter’s cell. But what I hadn’t notice on my way out is that there are hundreds of cells lined up on each wall. Hundreds of identical doors leading to identical cells.
I take a moment to groan, and then I run, peering through each clear door, looking for his face.
There! There it is.
I stop abruptly and back up to the door, my shoulder aching. My breath is rapid and hot, and creates a cloud on the glass door as I hit it with the palm of my hand to get his attention.
He stands from the small bed inside the cell and runs over, panic making his face white.
Peter waves his hands, shooing me away, and I give him a sideways glance.
Does he not want to be saved?
He points down the hall, where heavy and continuous footsteps echo from.
I look at him wide-eyed and my brain goes blank. I could run… I could run and leave him behind; leave the stranger’s voice in the dark room behind. I could run and go home. Away from my insane mother and away from danger and away from the bullet wound in my arm… I could run.
So I do.
My legs carry me past the cells and into another hallway to the right. I take another right, and trip over a pipe, falling to the ground and hitting my chin on the cement.
Sobs take me over as I realize what I’ve done.
I ran and left the one person who has managed to put my life in danger yet keep me safe and alive behind. I’ve left a poor, lonely person alone to die in a room of darkness. I denied my mother’s outreach, crazy or not, and possibly destroyed the entire rebellion. I let Doug die… let many people die. The mission that night was to save me—me, who didn’t even need saving. And because of that act, many, many people died before my eyes—and I couldn’t do anything about it.
If I hadn’t saved those girls on the bus…
I hear a gun go off, and a scream.
Peter.
I can hear the talking of the guards echoing down the hallways and into my ears.
Lifting myself up and peering around the corner, I watch to see if they’re going to pass by me. Maybe they’ll take Peter somewhere I can follow, and I can try to help him get free and to find a way out of this place.
The shuffle of boots and a few cruel laughs make their way to the halls as they grow near. I see them step around the corner, and I tuck my head back. If I don’t move from here, they’ll see me, unless some strange miracle prevents them from seeing out of their peripherals.
I sprint quietly around the corner on the opposite side of the wall and press my back against the cool brick.
Their footsteps grow louder as they walk down the hall, and their voices, along with grunts coming from the pained Peter, bounce off the brick like a bouncy ball. I peek around the corner and watch as they pass by.
As soon as they disappear behind the next wall, I quietly walk down to watch them as they continue on.
Peter is limping badly, leaving bloodstains on the floor. They had shot his foot.
His groans of pain follow him all the way down the hall and to the right.
Where are they taking him?
I follow them for a while, jumping at every sound I make, my heart pounding in my ears. They weave through, and I lose track of how many left and right turns are they take.
Finally, they stop at a set of greenish-gray doors. The guard on the left pulls one of them open as Peter and the other guard step through, Peter practically being dragged by the man.
The door closes, and the guard that had opened it stands outside, guarding the room.
I press my back against the wall again and try to think. I have to get in there.
Several minutes pass, and nothing comes to mind. I can’t just walk up to the guard. He might know what I look like. Who I am. Then I’d just be back where I started.
“The girl escaped,” A woman’s voice echoes down the long halls.
“Let’s just hope she wasn’t important,” Another woman says.
They’re getting closer to me. I have to think of something fast.
“Where’s the holder? She’s supposed to be here by now.”
They’re just around the corner.
Suddenly, I have an idea.
I walk out, looking my best to seem lost.
“Excuse me, I’m a bit lost. I was assigned to be a holder today,” I say sheepishly, hoping I’m using it in the right context.
The taller woman studies me, pursing her lips. She has short blonde hair and bright blue eyes with thick black glasses, and she wears a black T-shirt with green pants.
“Is today your first day?” The second lady asks. She has short black hair like a boy, and the top of her ear is cut off and scarred over.
I nod, and they look me over skeptically.
“Alright,” Half-ear says, cocking her large gun and slinging it over her shoulder. “Were you informed on what to do, or did Suarez forget again?”
I shrug. “He just told me where to go to.”
The tall one waves, motioning for me to follow her.
“When you get in there, all you have to do is hold the guy down. We’ll be doing all of the talking.”
I nod and follow them to the doors.
“Rebecca Burg,” The tall woman tells the man.
“Eriah Tane,” Ear says.
The man looks at me expectantly.
“Your name?” Eriah says to me.
They stand, watching me, waiting for me to say what I need to say. I look back at them, clueless, as I try to come up with something, some other name, some kind of answer… but my brain is blank and empty. Nothing surfaces. I feel my face growing hot as I stand looking at them.
“I have to say my name? I thought it didn’t matter because I was the holder?” I ask sheepishly, hoping—praying that I don’t have to say my name.
“Wow, he really told you nothing,” Rebecca says, and then turns to the man. “She’s the holder.”
He nods and opens the door.
We walk in, and my stomach leaps into my throat.
Peter’s wrists are locked to a long chain hooked high on the side wall with both of his hands behind his back. He’s doubled over on his knees, his face so close to the ground, the dirt scatters on the floor as he exhales. Flickering holograms of people inside little rooms with windows are everywhere, giving an illusion of people watching him. The chain droops on the floor, still and wickedly cold, and suddenly I have the urge to rush in and unchain him, free him… But I can’t.
Rebecca dismisses the guard in the room.
Peter looks up at the sound of the door closing.
His eyes rest on me—his purple, swollen eyes.
His face is bloody and bruised and he looks like he’s having trouble breathing.
Did the guard do this to him?
I feel sick…
“Hey, girl, are you okay?” Eriah asks me.
“Yeah, just a little woozy…” I say, standing up straight and trying to look at something else, anything else besides Peter.
“Remember, Eriah, it’s her first day,” Rebecca smiles at me. “Here, take this key, and unlock the chain. Hold him down or still somehow while we interrogate him.”
Holder.
They hold people down.
But why?
I nod awkwardly and take the key. My feet feel like lead as I walk. I don’t want to do this. I want to turn and leave. I want to free him and leave. But I can’t do that. I have to do this. If I don’t he can’t be freed, I can’t go home…
Peter watches me, not fully understanding what’s going on.
I stand behind him and fumble with the key. His back has long bruises and gashes on it where, what it looks like, boots were forced rapidly onto him.
Suddenly, I’m angry as I kneel behind him.
“Don’t say anything,” I whisper as quietly as I can
to him as Rebecca and Eriah talk to each other. “Just go along with it.”
He drops his head down and slouches his shoulders.
The cuffs pop off easily and I hold his wrists carefully with my hands, making sure I don’t touch where the metal had rubbed them raw.
Eriah laughs. “Don’t be afraid to be rough with him, new girl. Here, it’s easier if you put your arm around his neck and the other on his wrist. You’ll have more control. If he gets out of line, you can just choke him out or something.”
I stifle a cringe and do what she says with a slight nod.
Peter moves to where I can carefully place my arms where they need to be, one of my knees in the small of his bare back.
“Ready?” Rebecca nods toward me.
I gulp and nod back.
She turns to face the top corner near the door. I follow her gaze and see a red dot of light flash on.
There are no people to witness this, but apparently it is recorded.
How wonderful.
Rebecca turns on her heel and faces Peter. She paces across the room once, looking him over and then returns to her spot.
“They ruffed you up pretty well, now didn’t they? I guess they were afraid you wouldn’t talk,” She pauses. “What is your name?”
Peter continues to stare at the wall across from him. I feel him swallow against my arm.
“I said, what is your name, boy?” Rebecca asks again, more sternly. She motions to Eriah after a moment, and she shoots a bullet beside Peter, making both of us jump.
Oh.
That’s why they need a holder…
I shiver.
“My…” Peter swallows again. “My name is Peter.”
“Peter what?”
“Hemmings.”
“Ahhhh… so you’re the one that Nonna had taken in when you were exiled from the Domes for being… what again?”
“Born too early.”
Rebecca smiles and strides to her left, toward Eriah.
“How long did you live in the Dude’s Dome?” She asks, gagging on the words and turning toward him again.
Peter doesn’t move.
“Why is this necessary?” He asks suddenly.
Eriah brings the butt of the gun down on his ribs, and he wrenches both of us to the side, almost throwing us down on the ground.
“Hold him better, new girl,” Eriah snaps at me. “Or I’ll be hitting you next.”
I set my jaw and try not to glare at her.
“How long did you live there?” She asks, crouching in front of him.
Breathing hard, Peter answers through gritted teeth, “Can’t you do the math yourself?”
Eriah hits him on the head, making him break free from my arms and land hard on the floor. She presses the barrel to his temple, and glares down at him.
I feel anger bloom inside of me, and I try to suppress it by looking away. I can’t blow it. Not now. Not yet. We have to find a way out first. If only they’d stop hurting him…
“Get on him and hold him down, new girl!” She growls at me, never taking her eyes nor her gun off of him. “I won’t tell you again.”
I slowly climb onto his stomach and press his shoulders down carefully. He just lays there on the ground as if defeated, his bruised eyes closed. Blood drips from his eyebrow and a cut on his bottom lip—and all I can do is stare, scared out of my skin, at his face, and sit on his chest, feeling it rise and fall unsteadily beneath me. A lump rises in my throat as I watch him struggle to breathe.
Suddenly, he smiles and chuckles.
Are you insane, Peter? I think. She’ll kill you.
“What is so funny, Peter Hemmings?” Rebecca asks, crossing her arms in front if her.
“Oh, nothing,” He says, opening his eyes and looking at me. “Just that you can’t kill me.”
“And why not?” Rebecca speaks up before Eriah can.
“Because I know where the Leader’s daughter is.”
The ladies are silent for a moment.
Peter shoves me off, and I quiet a cry as I tumble onto my shoulder.
Eriah has her gun pressed to his chest now as they stand face to face. She looks as if she’s waiting for the say-so from Rebecca to shoot him dead.
I get up slowly and wait for my scolding, watching Peter. The red marks on his back and on his face have slowly have turned to bruises. The muscles in his back are surprisingly relaxed as he stands at gunpoint, and a cunning smile plays on his face.
“What’s her name?”
“Eenralla Land.”
“Age?”
“Seventeen.”
His answers are sharp and quick.
“So, you know her?” Rebecca pauses again, Peter watching her every move.
“I’ve traveled with her.”
“Hair color?”
“Blonde.”
“Eye color?”
“Blue.”
She walks up to him and stares into his eyes. The tension in the room grows immensely as the seconds roll by. She and Eriah stand shoulder-to-shoulder, Eriah’s eyes on Rebecca and Rebecca’s on Peter.
“Where is she?” She asks slowly.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
He smiles. “You’re good.”
“I know,” She returns the smile.
“But I know something else,” He whispers to her.
“Really?”
He nods, his smile spreading across his face.
I hear in my head, ‘it is done’ over and over again. That fat mans voice echoing over and over in my mind. This is it.
This is when he gives me away.
“I know…”
My body goes cold.
“That…”
“Spit it out boy,” Eriah snaps, thrusting the barrel of her gun into his chest.
Peter doesn’t move. Doesn’t break eye contact with Rebecca.
“I know that you don’t know what she looks like.”
Rebecca stares at him. A second later, she pushes the barrel of Eriah’s gun away from him, Eriah watching her every movement.
Peter looks straight into Rebecca’s eyes, whose are parallel to his own. They stand, both tall, as if they’re about to break out into war.
“Why do you say that, Peter Hemmings?” Her voice is low and threatening as she steps closer.
“Because she is right underneath your nose.”
Just then, banging explodes from the doors. We all snap our heads around in that direction, waiting for something to happen.
The doors swing open, and one of the guards that had dragged Peter in here steps through.
“What is it?” Rebecca asks acidly, stepping away from Peter.
“There’s a girl out here,” He says, holding his gun tightly. “She says she’s sorry she’s late; it’s her first day as a holder.”
Rebecca and Eriah look at me, and I freeze.
I’m going to die.
The next second, Peter disarms Eriah, and is pointing her own gun back at her.
“Move and I shoot,” He says.
“No you won’t,” Rebecca snaps, her eyes locked on me. “Because if you do, the people watching will see, and you and your friend will be sentenced to death, and then where will you be?”
“Away from you.”
He shoots, hitting Eriah’s leg, and she collapses to the ground. Rebecca lunges toward me and closes her fingers around my throat while Peter is distracted with Eriah.
“If your mother thinks I’ll listen to some teenager after she dies,” She spits at me. “She’s wrong.”
Rebecca backs me up against the wall—one of the walls with the hologram behind the window. She brings my head forward, and then pushes it back with immense force. Pain reverberates through my skull and I hear a crack. A crack outside of my body.
The window behind me is breaking.
I begin to gasp for air as she squeezes tighter.
“Pe…”
Rebecca smirks.
; I look over her shoulder and see Peter and one of the guards holding each other at gunpoint, every one of their muscles tense and ready to fire should it come to that.
I find a moment of strength, knowing Peter can’t save me right now, knowing my fate is in my hands right now, and I pull Rebecca’s elbow in to my chest and bring my knee up, shoving it into her stomach. She wrenches forward, releasing my neck to where I can breathe again. I bring my elbow up clumsily and connect it with her jaw, making her stagger to my left.
I quickly turn around and break the glass, making it shatter into an empty room with two rows of dark chairs. The hologram sputters out.
A gunshot.
Peter shoots the guard’s hand and he drops his gun to the ground. It makes a loud clattering sound over my loud breathing.
Rebecca regains her balance and shoves me hard to the right, slamming me into the wall. I scream as my shoulder collides with the cement.
Suddenly, she’s lifted off of me and thrown to the side. She screams and I hear a crack.
Peter pulls me to the window and breaks some more glass with his fist as Rebecca calls out commands into a walkie-talkie. He shoves me through and I roll onto the first row of seats, hitting my spine on the armrests.
He follows after me, jumping over the sill and into the little room. It would have looked effortless, had he have not been wounded in the way that he is.
I see a door on the left end of the small room, and I open it and run out, Peter limping behind me.
“Go,” He gasps.
I turn around. He’s limping really bad and bleeding everywhere. I can’t just leave him…
He watches me for a moment, and then stops walking.
“Go,” He says again before the sound of several alarms go off, making a high-pitched sounds that make me cringe.
“No,” I shout over the alarms. “I’m not leaving you again.”
I close the distance between us quickly. I pretty much owe my life to this guy, and I’ve already left him behind twice. If I left him now, he’d probably die, some how, some way.
I put his arm around my shoulders, and start to walk. My muscles and shoulder complain, but I’m not giving up this time.
We hobble to the end of the large room that had been connected to the little room, and go through a large door. Behind it is a dark room.
“Set me down,” Peter says stiffly.
“But—”
“Do it,” He says quietly.
I let him go as he finds his way to the floor. I hear beeps as little lights on (what looks like) a keypad below me flicker. The ground starts to vibrate, and slivers of white light wash over the room as the floor before me slides away, revealing a hidden staircase. Each step is lit up by a strip of light on its edge, giving the person walking down the ability to see where they are going. It’s quite genius, actually.
Peter is sitting up, his hands closing the keypad.
“How…”
“I told you,” He says simply. “I’ve been in the Rebellion for a handful of years already. I know a lot more than you think.”
The floor stops opening.
“Okay,” Peter says, holding his hands out to me. “I’m ready to walk again.”
How is it possible that he can still walk? His body has gone through so much… I don’t think I’d even be able to breathe in his condition.
He shakes his hands impatiently, and I take them, pulling him up with difficulty. He’s definitely heavier than he looks.
“I’m not that fat,” He chuckles to me when I finally get him up.
I laugh. “I’m just not that strong.”
Peter looks at me and starts to say something, but changes his mind at the last second. He slings his arm over my shoulder.
He’s so beat up…
“Shall we?” He smiles.
We start down the stairs, walking slowly and taking one step at a time. The floor above us closes as we get lower, but the stairs stay lit. Blood trails are left behind by Peter’s foot, and he is having so much trouble walking. He has to keep stopping even though there are maybe only twenty steps.
“Who’s there?” A voice outside of the range of the lights on the stairs calls.
“Smoth, it’s me, Hemmings,” Peter tries to laugh.
“Geeze, Hem. What did you get yourself into?” The voice calls from the darkness.
“I met this girl,” Peter laughs again as he looks at me, something different shining in his eyes, but it disappears as he groans and takes the last step down to the floor.
A man walks into the light with a gun at his side and grabs Peter at the waist, helping me carry his weight. Smoth is tall and very muscular, with dark blonde hair and a strong jawline. He reaches up with his other hand and switches on a light.
Dozens of people in black clothing and padding stare up at us from the ground. They all sit on the floor near one another and watch me as I let go of Peter.
Smoth takes Peter into another room, and not bothering to look back at me.
“Aren’t you that Eenie chick?” A guy says in the front row of people, who are now standing. He seems almost afraid of me for a moment.
“Yeah,” I nod carefully.
The boy stands and circles me, as if sizing me up.
“There’s a reward for you, you know.”
“Does it have something to do with my mother?” I spit. “She want me dead?”
The boy chuckles and finishes circling me. Standing face to face now, he takes a step toward me and lifts my chin with his finger. I pull away.
“I think—”
“Julias,” Smoth walks back out, empty-handed. “Stop antagonizing our guest.”
“She should be—”
“I don’t care, Julias,” Smoth interrupts Julias’s protesting and flashes me a smile, followed by an extended hand. “I’m Smoth McDoug.”
The memory of Doug flashes through my mind.
“What is it, Eenralla?” He asks.
My throat feels dry. “Your brother…”
His smile falls and he looks at me.
“What about him?”
He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Doug was burned. That he saved my life. That he died saving me.
He has no idea.
“I knew him,” My voice scrapes out of my throat, rubbing it raw with guilt and shame.
“Well, yeah, of course you do,” He laughs. “How else would you get here? Where is he?”
He has no idea, and I don’t want to be the one to tell him that his brother is…
“Well?” He presses.
I clear my throat. “Back at camp.”
“He didn’t come with you?”
A gut wrenching guilt courses through my body as I shake my head no.
“That’s so unlike him.” Smoth shrugs, and waves me into the room he had left. “Peter is in an operating room. His wounds will be mended in no time, and healed faster than normal because of the meds we have here.”
I nod, not able to talk.
“You’re in another division of the Rebellion. It’s run by me and Doug, underneath your mother’s command. We’re the ones that save the Domespeople from themselves and include them in the rebellion. People that refuse to fight or join are held in one of our camps here underground, and taken care of as best as we can take care of them. The people that want to fight are immediately sent to training.”
“Does my mother know about this?”
Smoth smiles. “She does.”
“Why haven’t you turned me in yet if you work under my mom?”
“Because the security is run by me down here. She’ll look for you in her area, and request for us to look in ours.”
“So why don’t you turn me in?” I ask him, crossing my arms.
“Do you want me to turn me in?” He laughs. “Besides, I think you could be useful.”
I watch his face as he strides ahead, walking briskly through the white hallways. What would he need me for?
“So, you can
just do what you want?”
He snorts. “Not really.”
A man in clothes the color of leaves rushes up to Smoth. He nods his head a little, and swallows.
“Smoth, sir,” He says, breathless.
“Yes, what is it, Fam?” Smoth says, sounding annoyed.
“There’s a message from your brother.”
Twelve
My body goes cold.
Smoth straightens up, and heads for the door. He pauses just before it, and, without turning around, tells me to follow him. I jog to catch up with him, and we walk quickly through the doors and around corners. We stop just before I feel like I’m going to collapse.
Smoth opens a black door and steps inside a room filled with TV screens. In the center is a table full of keyboards and wires.
On the big screen in the middle is Doug’s face, frozen in time.
“Play the message,” Smoth barks.
The screen comes to life, and I hear the bombs in the background. The video shakes as one hits the ground.
“My brother,” Doug sighs, guilt and sadness in his eyes. “I have betrayed this whole Rebellion. I hired a rogue unknowingly. She doesn’t work for the Rebellion, and she doesn’t work for the Domes… She works for herself. She wants power, and that’s what she’ll get if you do not get this message. You must stop her.” His eyes flit to and from the camera. He leans on a long table with a map on it. The table he was leaning on when I barged in.
Another explosion.
“Doug!” I hear myself calling. “Doug, you have to leave!” My head appears at the bottom corner of the screen, my hair a mess.
I see the whole scene play, but from a different angle. From a different point of view. I see how desperate I am for him to leave, for him to survive. I didn’t know why I went straight to him. I didn’t know why I cried when he died. But I did it. It happened.
“I can’t. I hired a rogue.”
The conversation goes on, and a knot rises in my throat.
“I’m not going to let you stay here and die,” I hear myself shout over another explosion.
He looks for the map and hands it to me, talking to me. He pushes me out and reappears back in front of the camera, and looks straight into it, tears falling down his face.
“I love you, Smoth, my brother,” He pauses, and pushes his hands against the table, stretching out his arms and looking down. “Send message.”
An explosion.
No more video.
“End message.”
And suddenly, I don’t know if I want to go home anymore.
