The Kidnapped Army

by Shiloh White

  Six hours to get from here to the Academy and back home somehow. Or, six hours to tell Lieutenant Hollister and the others everything I knew. Then I could sit back while I was sent back home just in time for roll call.

  The Depression Force was in the exact same place we were, then. Needed everything we did. Only, they were just out for Dart. Also, even if I got out, it didn't guarantee Chug or Woodstock's safety. Let alone the rest of the kidnapped Agents. Hollister said herself they were just liabilities to her.

  They were just what Dart went in there for in the first place, though. He went to help Mr. Reggie and the Abandoned; one Agent at a time.

  But at the same time, was it really my job to save him? A high school junior sharing her brain with her own negative thoughts and a little schizophrenia mixed in for good measure?

  I got my adventure. Maybe I was just greedy for another taste of it. I mean, since being here, I'd almost died more times than I could fit on one hand.

  Home, I thought. I could go, right now. Escape all this.

  You should be home, my mind repeated

  “We're all making the hard choices now, Lucy,” Lieutenant Hollister said. She was trying to hurry along my decision. I should have been upset at her. Honestly? I was a little distracted by the offer itself.

  “You think I wanted to spend the last few days hunting you and your buddies down?” she asked. “There are a billion and seven other things that we have to do and fight and protect, but I know if I don't do this one right now, everything will fall apart. It's why I'm willing to give you this second chance."

  “This is your idea of a second chance?"

  “The reason Stark tried to kill you is because he didn't tell me who you were,” Lieutenant Hollister explained. “I found that out from Scott. Otherwise, I would've tried to work in a civilized manner from the start."

  “Oh, so that's what happened?” I asked. “I know someone on the inside, so I wouldn't have gotten murdered right away. What if it was some other Topsider?”

  Lieutenant Hollister's eyes looked about ready to strike me dead. I swear I smelled burnt air and ozone. This 'working with me' thing must have been real painful for her. She took a deep breath, then managed to speak without ordering me dead.

  “Lucy, you should already know Topsiders—I mean, people like you and I, hold large amounts of power in the Dust. But when those people are aligned the wrong way, it tips the scale monumentally—in the wrong direction."

  I mean, I didn't plan to tip any scales. All I wanted to do was save my friend. I bit my tongue to keep my thoughts from escaping, however. I didn't want Lieutenant Hollister to change her mind about ordering me dead.

  “I wasn't willing to risk that when Stark gave me that code,” Lieutenant Hollister continued, shortening the distance between us to a step, “but now that I know it's you, I'm willing to diffuse the situation without any...unneeded measures. So what's it going to be?”

  I took a step back from her, my hand on my art bag.

  “I'm not taking your handout.” I said. Lieutenant Hollister looked stunned.

  “What?”

  “Actually,” I said, “I'm ashamed I even thought about it. You just sent Scott to the Academy for his best friend—alone, I might add. At the same time, you're ready to lock up the two boys who are risking everything to save the rest of their friends. Dart went there for them in the first place!"

  Lieutenant Hollister took a step back, raising her eyebrows. “That's what you really think?"

  “I think Dart would never forgive you guys if you went in to save him and no one else,” I told her. “I can't sit by and watch that happen. And I certainly can't give up on my friends.”

  Lieutenant Hollister shook her head and sighed.

  “I'm quite disappointed in you, Lucy.” She pointed to the Officers still sitting at their desks. “Take her to a holding cell, please.” Then she looked back at me. “If you've thrown your lot in with the Depression Agents, you'll suffer the same fate,” she said. “And the only thing worse than a Rogue Agent is a Rogue Topsider."

  She turned her back as the Officers each grabbed an arm. We walked past the Lieutenant and over to the door, when someone came bursting through.

  “Lieutenant!” the woman shouted.

  She plowed past the other two Officers, who were obviously only in charge of technical stuff. They probably hadn't seen a day of physical work since school days. If they were any lighter, I thought the girl might have sent them flying. When they let go, I was shoved aside by the girl next, when I realized who it was: Officer Halsey!

  From the time I'd known her, I didn't put her as the type of person to lash out or get extreme, but she stomped right past me and up to the Lieutenant with a determined look on her face. The Lieutenant turned to face her, gazing at the Officer with her powerfully electric blue eyes, but said nothing. I wondered just how much of a chance Halsey stood. Surprisingly, she didn't give in or look away, which scared me just as the Lieutenant herself.

  “You sent Scott out there,” Halsey said through her teeth. “Alone. You have to bring him back."

  A small sigh blew out of her nostrils. Her shoulders followed, resting at a slight slouch. The passionate master word strategist was gone, and in her place, I saw a tired woman didn't want to have another conversation.

  “Did everyone forget that I'm in charge today?” she asked.

  “Uh, no, ma'am.” Halsey answered. “I'm only saying—"

  “Is this an act of insubordination, Officer?” The Lieutenant asked. Halsey swiftly shook her head.

  “Not insubordination, ma'am. Just a firm suggestion—please bring Scott back. He's emotionally attached to Dart, and that's going to cloud his judgment on this mission. I'll volunteer to go instead."

  “I think there is an attachment clouding your judgment,” Lieutenant Hollister said. “You know you don't have much field experience.”

  Halsey studied the ground, offering no answer.

  “In fact,” Lieutenant Hollister continued, “the one mission I did send you on, I heard there were problems just choosing to follow the objective.” At that, the Lieutenant shot me a quick glance. Halsey followed her gaze, realizing for probably the first time that I'd been in the room. She looked like she was about to say something to me, then thought better of it. She turned back to face the Lieutenant.

  Under different circumstances, I would've gotten a little upset. She shoved me off the bridge, but got all secret about it at the last moment. I'd been pretty certain that was her helping me. But it would probably look really bad if she were to say something about that now. Did Lieutenant Hollister already know about that event? Was Halsey on her way to being considered a traitor too?

  “Lieutenant, this objective is different! I can—"

  “I'm only going to ask you one more time, Officer,” Lieutenant Hollister cut in. “Is insubordination happening here? Because if it is, it won't just be probation from the field—you'll be placed on staff lockdown.” Halsey sighed, her determination fluttering out as well. I watched her turn her face from the Lieutenant, that intense look melting away. Then she looked back up and into the arena to face Lieutenant Hollister's electric blue gaze.

  “My apologies, Lieutenant,” Halsey said in a small voice. She stepped back from the Lieutenant, who walked around Halsey and left the room. The two Officers seemed to take that as their prompt to escort me to the cell, where I'd spend my time changing my mind or waiting to suffer the consequences.

  Really, my only thought as I left the room was how my friend was in there. Alone. Surrounded by nothing but cold and gray walls. At the same time, one friend lay captured. Another one went to save him, but she knew he'd fail.

  The last person who might have been able to do something was being contained by an organization that was acting so narrow-minded; it would cost many people their lives.

  I thought this because I felt it. I felt it because that was where I sat.

  On the ground of the holding cell
, hugging my legs and resting my chin on my knees, knowing our chances were as slim as my time.

  32. My Murderer Breaks Me Out Of Prison

  I stared at my phone for a straight hour.

  Dart. He had spent his time selflessly, looking out for the people he used to be a part of. He wanted to stop them from getting captured, but it just ended up costing him. He didn't even tell the Depression Force. Probably because he knew all this would happen, genius, my thoughts blathered on. Same reason you should have stayed home.

  Scott. I agreed with Halsey. He should have stayed home—err, at HQ. Since the first time I saw him, he looked dead-set (literally, with the eyes of an angry zombie, I swear) on saving Dart. But how did he expect to do that? All that would be succeeded was him getting captured—or worse—and then Lieutenant Hollister would have an even bigger problem on her hands. Did she have that much faith in him?

  As far as she was concerned, just last week the guy had ingested a drug that poisoned his whole system with rage. Personally, I didn't fancy the idea of him going anywhere alone.

  I was glad at least Halsey was with me. But the pressure she was taking from Hollister and Scott and the others at the Depression Force because of me? Almost not worth it.

  I wanted to break out of the cell; whip it down with my paintbrush or something and go give her a hug. But out of all the Officers that brought us here, the two weak, stupid, upsetting technical interrogation workers were the ones smart enough to take away my art bag. Now, they only had enough sense to set it on the front desk across from my cell. But before they left, another Officer came over to stand guard outside my cell. He gave me a cold grin, spinning the keys in his hand before turning his back to me.

  Of course.

  So I sat, alone in the cold room, staring ahead at the black-clothed back of a Depression Force Officer. I got bored of that quick, which is when I began staring at my phone. But it was really just a distraction from the worst thoughts, and they ate away until I couldn't ignore them.

  Stark predicted this whole thing. He said himself that I didn't deserve my power. For all I knew, he was right. Not being able to use my Handle cost me saving Lara. It also got Chug hurt—bad. Now it was threatening to take Scott and Dart away, along with the rest of the Abandoned.

  Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced down to see the screen read: “MISSED CALL FROM ANNA” . I scrambled to push the “Call Back” button, but when I did, it screamed at me that I had no service. I clenched the stupid in my hand, preparing to chuck it across the room. But I stopped short and drew it back to my lap.

  The worst of the worst thoughts stared up at me from the phone screen itself. The lock-screen photo of Anna and I in her bakery covered in dough and wide grins. Guilt tugged at my stomach, but I couldn't look away until blinking stung my eyes. And it should, I thought.

  I got myself into this mess trying to escape my own weakness in the first place—all because I thought it'd be better here. But all I'd made better since arriving were the possibilities I'd die before this was over.

  All the while, everyone on Topside took a second-place hiatus. I promised Anna I'd tell her the truth. Heck, she deserved it, and I'd taken the opportunity away. On top of that, something was going on with her, but it was looking like I wouldn't be getting the chance to figure out what that was, let alone speak my mind to the one person who wouldn't instantly send me to a mental facility.

  Unlike my family, who, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I missed too.

  Well...I missed Chloe. And maybe Dad.

  But seeing any of them again was losing its place in my mind as something realistic. I ran from my real problems thinking I'd be able to fix the ones here in the Dust and now people were going to die—including me. If it wasn't because of my weakness. My inability, then maybe—

  THUD!

  Up in front of me, the security guard fell to the ground. The next thing to hit the ground was his keys, shocking me out of my pity party. Right after that, the lights went out.

  I didn't waste time rising to my feet. I crawled like mad across the cell to grab them. As I reached my hand through the bars, I pushed back Stark's words. My words. If I was thrown in the in this cell without my Handle, I could get out without it.

  But I moved so quickly, it didn't occur to me that the guard probably didn't just pass out. Which meant someone was around doing Disorder knew what, and while I wasn't looking for them, the rest of the Depression Force would be, and they would see me trying to escape.

  I kept on reaching, though. The guard had fallen just an inch or two out of my reach, and the keys another inch further. I shoved my phone in my pocket, the amount of time we had left swimming through my mind. I recited it silently over and over as I reached, forcing myself to inch closer.

  Only five hours...only five hours. I had to make every moment count. I got down flat against the floor of the cell, leaning my body into the bars, stretching the arm that had made it outside. I brushed them with finger. I was close now. If I could just grab a good chunk of it, I could pull them back. But I could do it.

  I had to. This was my chance to keep anyone else from dying. To make it back to Anna. It started here.

  “Are you finished?” A female voice said above me. I froze.

  “I can't open the door until you move,” she said.

  I yanked my hand back and jumped to my feet. I reached for my hip, ready to defend myself...with no paintbrushes.

  SHOOT. It was too dark to see much of anything anyway, besides her silhouette. I didn't see any point in trying to fight her unarmed.

  Plus, I already had a general idea of what was going to happen. Could've been any Agent, but the result would be the same:

  They're going to take you to the Lieutenant. Then they'll throw you out into the Dust, my thoughts mused. You can forget about those five hours. Your time just ran out.

  The silhouette bent over and picked up the keys off the guard. She slid the cell door open, but didn't enter the room. Instead, she called out to someone around the corner. “Did you find the lights?” she asked.

  “Gimme a sec, senorita,” a young man's voice yelled back. “Here they are!"

  Right after he said that, white lights filled the room. They illuminated the cell, and the female silhouette's face became visible. So did her silver hair. And her elvish features, accented by the melancholic smile on her face.

  “Halsey?"

  ✽✽✽

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “There's no time,” she said. “We'll have to talk on the way."

  “The way where?"

  Before she had the chance to respond, Woodstock turned the corner and joined us in the cell, which was becoming more cramped by the second.

  “I knew I heard you over there,” I said, walking up to the big guy. I wasn't sure what for; he didn't seem like the type of person to share hugs or even give high-fives. I ended up awkwardly rewinding those few steps. I pointed at the sleeves covering his bulky arms.

  “Is that the—"

  “Yeah,” he said. “I know I lost my temper with that lady, but I wasn't giving this up.”

  “Great,” I told him. I never realized how strange it was to try to talk to this kid when we weren't chasing something or about to die. Halsey took this moment to lean in and wave, as if she was just now walking in the cell and into the conversation.

  “Don't mean to break up this dry and off-kilter reunion,” she chimed, “but I just committed an act of treason, so we need to get moving."

  “What about Chug?” Woodstock asked.

  “Your other friend's still in the infirmary,” she answered. “That's our next stop.”

  Halsey walked over to me, and removed something from around her neck. “You'll need this."

  “My art bag!” I said.

  “Thank me later,” Halsey said, walking out of the cell. Barely two steps later, she stopped, causing me and Woodstock to stop behind her. “Or you know what? Don't thank me at al
l.” she decided, that same determination from before filling her voice. “Now let's go!”

  “Don't we want to turn the lights on?” Woodstock suggested once we'd started running.

  “And risk waking the rest of the Depression Force?” Halsey said. “Not the best idea."

  We ran for a while, and out of habit I almost asked if we were there yet.

  When I was younger, my family used to go on road trips and stuff, and Chloe was always so calm and patient as a toddler, she never asked if we were 'there yet,’ like a normal three-year-old would. I couldn't stand for this.

  I swear the kid made me more impatient during those car rides. So I asked 'are we there yet' over and over until she finally caught on and said it too. Other siblings might have found this annoying. I thought it was a great bonding moment. (Unfortunately, I probably became the reason Chloe's so fast-paced and impatient now.)

  “You know,” I said as we ran, “you never answered my question, Halsey. Why are you breaking us out?"

  “Ahh, right,” she panted. “That."

  “Yeah,” Woodstock agreed. “I only came because you said you'd rescue Chug too. Why?”

  Halsey stayed quiet for another moment while we kept running.

  “I joined the Depression Force to help protect people,” she said. “All kinds of people.”

  “People like us?” Woodstock suggested.

  “Yeah...and people like myself.” Halsey answered. “When I was just a kid—a little Duster in the Square, an Officer went out of his way to save me. He didn't have to, but he didn't leave me behind. Even though it could have cost his life."

  Halsey turned a corner and stopped running. We'd reached the infirmary. Woodstock slowed to a stop behind me, panting for air.

  “I talked to Scott as he was leaving,” Halsey continued. “He said the other missing Agents—missing people, were going to be left behind and...I'm not okay with that. I'm also not okay with the fact that I had to fight you, Lucy, and push you over that edge."

  “Oh, don't think much of it,” I said. “I didn't want to fight either, otherwise I would have totally won.”