The Kidnapped Army

by Shiloh White

  I heard the whir of the machine starting up and then came the familiar lurch forward and we were moving.

  I was on the subway.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To HQ,” Scott's voice answered next to me.

  “You're turning us in,” I deduced. “Why?"

  “I'm doing my job,” he said. After a long pause, he added, “Then I'm bringing him back.” I heard bitterness failing to be held back in his words.

  “Scott, you can't!"

  “Why not?” he shouted. He must have turned to face me, since his voice got louder and I felt his seat shift next to me.

  “Why can't I go?” he repeated, his voice softer and more raw. I wished I could see the pain in his eyes. I wanted to show him sympathy. That I cared. That I was trying. That we were all trying to save Dart. But I couldn't even tell him what I knew. That was the one piece of information we had over them. They didn't know where Dart was.

  “It's just...not safe.” I said. “I've seen the enemy. The ones who have Dart. They want you to go there. They're using Dart & they plans to use you too. The moment you're there, they'll—"

  “Why should I believe you?” he asked. I heard him sit back in his seat. I sat, flabbergasted. I didn't have an answer for him. Was he really asking me this?

  “We're friends, Scott. Why shouldn't you believe me?"

  Scott scoffed. “A week ago, my best friend was a Depression Agent. Now here we are with you, his little sister, following in his footsteps. Who's to say you aren't the one who kidnapped Dart?"

  “Are you mental? That's a lie, and you know it!"

  “It's what the higher-ups believe. And if they desire, it can become truth.” The higher-ups?

  “You mean the Lieutenant?” I asked. “I need to talk to her, then. Maybe she'll believe what I have to say."

  “Oh, you'll get the chance to talk to her, alright.” Scott assured me. “You won't be goin' anywhere for a while. At the very least, we've got you for fraternizing with Depression Agents and assaulting multiple Officers.” Scott's words sounded bland. Rehearsed. I wasn't getting through to him, and he was done talking to me.

  “Listen to yourself,” my voice cracked. I hoped I didn't look as scared and desperate as I sounded. “This isn't you talking, Scott. You've gotta listen to me. Don't go after Dart."

  “That's enough out of you,” he ordered. “One more word and I promise you won't see Topside again."

  30. Watch Out, This Lieutenant’s A Professional

  The rest of the way there, my mind was in a swirl of fear and worry.

  What had they done to Woodstock and Chug? Different subway cars, maybe? I didn't hear them the whole trip there.

  I hoped that Woodstock kept to his word. He said he knew what I was going to say—that he held the only way we were getting Dart back. We couldn't risk losing that.

  I was worried for Chug too. The Officers didn't know what he'd been through, or how long he had at this point. All this moving around might have caused his injury to open up again. What were they supposed to do to help him on the subway?

  Then there was Scott. Or, that’s who he looked like. The way he was talking and acting, I couldn't tell who he was. But it wasn't the Scott I knew. After all, he threatened to keep me from going home. The worst part was, I knew it wasn't his fault.

  Dart was gone, and Scott probably had no way to get him back right now. He was doing all he could—all he knew how to, to help his friend. And yet, as we barreled back to Depression Force HQ, I couldn't even speak a word of how little all this was helping.

  After a while, the subway lurched to a stop. I was escorted—shoved—up the long stairway from the basement into the Depression Force headquarters.

  I heard feet clamber past me in all directions. A few stopped near me, and voices began to mutter:

  “Isn't that the Topside girl who lost it in that Zone last week?"

  “Yeah, she saved her sister and everything!"

  “I can't believe she was a traitor the whole time..."

  “I hate to see them throw their gifts away like that...and for Depression Agents?”

  We continued to walk down corridor after corridor while I was tortured by these whispers. Finally, we stopped and I was pushed into a room. The door slid shut behind me, and all the voices melted away.

  “Where are we?” I asked, despite Scott's warning. Part of me thought he might have left me to some other Agent, but then he undid my blindfold himself.

  “She wanted you to see this,” Scott said. As the darkness fell away, I took in my surroundings.

  I was standing in a small black room, lit by a few dangling light bulbs. In front of me were three people stationed at desks staring at screens and all wearing headphones. They gave Scott a thumbs-up, and he nodded. Scott directed my attention to what was behind me: a giant slab of see-through glass. I was in an interrogation room.

  Worse still was what sat across from me, on the other side of the glass: Woodstock, his arms folded and his face scrunched up into a sneer. For the first time I'd seen him, his arms were covered. He was wearing the jacket.

  She wanted you to see this, Scott's words echoed. Only one person came to mind, and my assumption proved true when the door to Woodstock's side of the room opened up and she walked in. Long blond ponytail coming out of her green army hat, standing as tall as her perfect shoulders and legs would let her.

  She walked in the room, shutting the door behind her, and stared at the glass. No, she was staring through the glass, and straight at me with those piercing electric blue eyes.

  Then Lieutenant Hollister turned around and slid a chair out from the table, facing Woodstock.

  “Let's begin.”

  ✽✽✽

  “Officer Pascal Dart's missing,” Lieutenant Hollister said, her voice coming over the speakers in the interrogation room. “That was the situation to the best of our knowledge, at least. We haven't seen him in almost three days.”

  She stood up, and began pacing around Woodstock, who said nothing.

  “I don't suppose you know where he is? It would save us a lot of time.”

  Woodstock simply sat there, staring straight ahead at the glass. I wish he knew I was here on the other side, to encourage him or something. Realistically, I didn't know what good it would it do him right this moment...make him feel better or something? At least let him know he wasn't alone. He'd carried a lot of burdens lately, including literally carrying Chug. More than once.

  He was strong, though. Woodstock wouldn't budge. That must have been why Mr. Reggie wanted him along in the first place.

  “Worth a shot,” Lieutenant Hollister said, stopping her pace across the table from Woodstock. “As I was saying, we were in the dark for quite a while. Then Stark caught your little buddy’s trail."

  Woodstock twitched. I barely noticed it; the slightest extra scrunch of the face and his eye twitching as well. I almost thought it was nothing, but it was stupid of me to even ponder that. It would've been more ridiculous to think Lieutenant Hollister would dismiss something like that.

  “Ahh, yes,” she said, slowing her pace to a stop just beside Woodstock. “Your friend.”

  Woodstock scowled again. “How is he?"

  “So you can talk,” the Lieutenant observed. “Last I heard, he's not doing so hot."

  I turned to Scott. His furrowed brow and intense eyes were glued on the interrogation in process and his arms were folded and still, making him look like some kind of angry genie or an angry statue. Something angry.

  “Is the Lieutenant telling the truth?” I asked him. Just like a real statue, he didn't answer.

  “I'll only talk if you ensure Chug's safety,” Woodstock declared.

  I bit my lip. I wanted to make sure Chug was okay, too. But part of me wanted to believe they wouldn't leave him alone if he was hurt. Part of me had already accepted that—maybe just because that's how I was treated when I was brought here. Sure, I'd been put in a holding cell whe
n I first arrived, but once we were all on the same page, I was taken care of. Because of that, I wanted to root for Woodstock not telling them anything.

  Only, Woodstock didn't know that side of the Depression Force. As far as he was concerned, all they'd done was take friends from him—other Depression Agents. How could he have any faith in them? Why should he?

  Lieutenant Hollister shook her head at him, just proving my point.

  “You're in no place to negotiate,” she said. “With the most recent development of Officer Stark's passing, we have enough to execute both you and your friends,” Lieutenant Hollister told him. Behind me, I thought I heard one of the technical Officers take in a sharp breath. I wasn't sure if he was surprised some Agents took Stark out, or angry at us for it, like Scott. I didn't dare turn around to find out.

  “However,” she continued, “I respect your sense of loyalty. I'll agree to making sure your friend stays alive as long as you cooperate with us.”

  “You people make me sick,” Woodstock said, his eye twitching. “You have no idea the stuff we face out there!” His nostrils flared, and I could see him getting upset. I wasn't in the room, but I knew it was the same emotion he felt in the Square. And I knew it was justified.

  “Our amigos started disappearing long before Dart,” Woodstock continued, his accent getting thicker, “and you all didn't even toss a yawn in our direction.”

  Lieutenant Hollister considered this with a slight nod. She looked more interested in how long Woodstock planned on standing up to her. Like she was...amused. Or like she understood something we were missing.

  “Our gang brings nada in trouble for your facility.” Woodstock said. “In fact, we've been looking for Damian every day—helping you! Dart understood that. He did more than your entire organization has done by caring about what happened to us. Then, just because he was there helping, he got taken away too."

  “So he came to you alone?” Lieutenant Hollister asked. “To assist Agents?"

  “You're missing the point!” Woodstock shouted. “The minute he disappeared, you turned the fault to us. But it's your own fault one of your best operatives is gone. If he didn't have to come alone, he might not have been taken by the Headmistress like the rest of our Agents! Dart would've—"

  Lieutenant Hollister held up a single finger at him. “That's enough,” she said, and turned to the window. She smiled smugly, and gave a thumbs-up.

  A second later, two Officers walked out the door, and entered the interrogation room. Each one grabbed Woodstock's arms and lifted him out of the chair. They didn't budge him farther than that, however. Woodstock stood taller than one of the guards, and barely an inch shorter than the other. He yanked his arms out of the Officer's grip, and they pulled their batons.

  “Stop!” Lieutenant Hollister said. “Let him walk on his own.” The Officers nodded and walked out of the room, one in front of Woodstock and the other behind him.

  Then Lieutenant Hollister left the interrogation room and joined us on this side of the see-through glass. She pointed at Scott. “Your orders are approved to go retrieve Dart,” she said. “Consider all others—"

  “Lieutenant, wait! You can't send Scott—OW!"

  A strong hand clamped down hard on my wrist and twisted it behind my back. I turned and saw Scott radiating anger at me.

  “I thought I instructed you not to talk.” The edge in his voice had no trouble seeping through his clenched teeth. He gripped down tighter and I winced in pain.

  Lieutenant Hollister closed her eyes and took in an irritated sigh. “It's nice to see you again too, Lucy,” she said. “Or it would be, except for the position you find yourself in,” she continued. I set my chin bitterly. Her words cut me down, making me feel like that much more of a child. This was not starting well.

  “Lieutenant,” I said, “there's a lot you and the Officers don't understand—”

  Lieutenant Hollister held up her hand to silence me.

  I couldn't help scoffing at her. If one more person stopped me from talking, I was going to...do something bad. (I don't know. I'm on the spot, and angry. And in pain. I'll think of something when the time comes. Leave me alone.)

  Then Lieutenant Hollister waved a hand at Scott and he let go of my arm. I pulled it close to my chest and examined it as if it'd been in a lion's mouth. All the skin from my wrist down was red. I could even see the marks Scott made with his hand. I was thinking about showing him when Lieutenant Hollister cleared her throat, waiting for me to continue.

  “Oh, err...” I mumbled. “Uhh, Dart's not all the Headmistress needs. She wants Scott too. By letting him go, you're giving him over to her. And she has something nasty planned for both of them."

  Kill them! She wants to kill them. Why couldn't I say that?

  Because you don't know that for sure.

  The Lieutenant nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. She did it the way someone might react to being told that someone they didn't like was now dating someone else they didn't like. She might as well have answered with “Okay, cool. Who cares?"

  She opened her eyes and pointed with her chin to Scott. “Slight change of plans."

  “Ma'am.” Scott stood at attention.

  “Our objective hasn't changed,” Lieutenant Hollister continued. “You're still to go find Dart. But the moment you do, send us your current location and wait for backup."

  Scott made an annoyed 'tch' noise that I thought I imagined. Until Lieutenant Hollister lifted her eyebrow and her electric blue eyes threatened to shock Scott out of his socks.

  “Is that insubordination I hear?” she asked. If it was possible, Scott stood up even straighter. His eyes appeared to stare just past Lieutenant Hollister's blue ones. He must have felt that sense of lightning coming off her eyes too.

  “No, ma'am,” were the only words he uttered.

  “Right.” Lieutenant Hollister nodded. “Then, proceed to The Academy Anchor Zone. Use the cloth you were given to conceal yourself for as long as possible. And consider anyone besides Dart a liability. An enemy. Handle them with stealth, but handle them.”

  Scott saluted and promptly left the room, the small piece of Lionel's cloak waving in his hand; I hadn't noticed the thing in his hand the entire time we'd been standing here.

  “That portion of the cloak won't be enough!” I told the Lieutenant. “He's going to walk right into the Headmistress' trap!"

  “Well, you know, there's a very easy way to solve that."

  My eyes narrowed at the Lieutenant. “What?"

  She pointed to the comm device on her shoulder. “I can call him back right now if you'd like."

  I'd like to say I understood what she was getting at. I really would. Maybe I was just too angry to see it. All I could do was shrug.

  “That'd be awesome,” I said. “But I don't get why.”

  Lieutenant Hollister rubbed two fingers against her temple. This was obviously taking all her patience. I found it just a little comical. Still, I tried with all of my willpower not to crack a smile. No desire to get blasted with her electric eyes right now.

  “If you give me the cloak, I'll bring Scott to back to get it from you."

  “Not going to happen.” I answered.

  “I'm going to get straight to the point with you as well, Lucy,"—Lieutenant Hollister turned and shut the door behind Scott before looking back to me—"I have an offer for you. Would you like to hear it?"

  I folded my arms together and raised my eyebrow. Any offer she could come up with wouldn't make me budge at this point. Stark had tried to kill me, first of all. On her orders. Then she sent my own friends after me. Now here we were, captured by them. Chug was injured, and in their eyes, the only thing he was good for was to threaten Woodstock. All this to get Dart back, which was the only thing we wanted to do in the first place.

  “What could it possibly be?” I asked.

  “Home."

  31. No, Really. It’s Her Way Or A Jail Cell

  The word stole the air
from my lungs, and left me open. It hung on the air and bounced around the room all at once, echoing back and forth in my ears as a deafening reminder of where I was. Surrounded by death, real depression, and everything in between. This place wasn't where I should be.

  I hadn't spent much time with her the last time I was here, except for when we took on Anti-Lucy. But even still, I had only known her as the woman in charge. Now she seemed distant, like she was sitting atop a brilliant war horse, ready for war. Only she waged war with her words, knowing which to use to bring Woodstock to cough up valuable info. Which words to make me want to utter a surrender.

  I should be home, I thought. And Lieutenant Hollister knew this.

  “What...do I have to do?"

  “Give us all and any information Woodstock neglected,” she said, “and the location of that old man's cloak."

  I snickered. I didn't mean to actually do it out loud, but was she really serious.

  “You know,” I said, “sending Scott despite my warning is even stupider than I thought. Why send one Officer in there undercover when you have the whole Depression Force to throw at the Academy."

  “Because we will lose that fight,” Lieutenant Hollister said. “De Mentoria is child's play compared with the readings we've been getting from The Headmistress' Anchor Zone. We need to rescue Dart swiftly and silently."

  “You don't have the resources to just make another cloak?” I asked. Lieutenant Hollister shook her head.

  “We analyzed the piece Scott brought back,” she explained. “Depression Agent smoke-material was weaved into it. We can't replicate that."

  I fished my phone out of my pocket.

  “What are you doing?” Lieutenant Hollister asked.

  “Thinking.” I answered. I clicked the screen on, and the date bore into me like a drill. No, I thought. How were we this far gone?

  The time read: 12:00pm, Friday, January 12th. If my mind was cooperating right, it meant about 42 Topside hours until time ran out.

  And six hours in the Dust.