Only when they reached the threshold of the dome did either slow to catch their breath, Deion with one arm propped against the side of the structure, Alex doubled over and clutching at his knees.
In between heaving breaths, his mind still whirling with terror, Deion frothed, “Was that a prop, too, Alex?”
16. CONFUSION
Lizzie could see it up ahead, a faint orange glow pulsing through the trees, the promise of salvation. Paragon.
The sky shone black, but all around her the forest was lit like silver midday, the bright full moon illuminating the world in white and shadow. Each leaf, each branch, each long blade of underbrush rising from the floor stood out in crisp, stark contrast.
Lizzie felt like she was walking on another planet, one where the sun glimmered in blue-gray and steel, a periwinkle fantasyland.
It’d been many days – nine? eleven? – since the explosion shattered Lizzie’s world, and hunger, dehydration, shock, and terror were taking their toll on her mental capacities. However long it’d been was too long – she needed help. And she needed answers.
She’d been replaying her last moments of clarity on repeat for days, in between fits of sleep. But none of it made sense.
They’d exited the building and crossed the parking lot, parting the overgrown grass to locate the narrow path that led into the woods toward the clearing with the picnic tables.
They’d been talking and laughing as the grass receded and the trees thickened around them, Lizzie doing her best to ignore the heaviness in her heart.
And that was it.
Then she’d woken up, sprawled on the ground, tree roots digging into her back, with an ache in her head and no recollection of how she’d gotten there.
The sun had disappeared behind a cloud of reddish dust, and her thoughts had come slowly and laboriously, each movement an effort.
She’d found that her bag was still looped over her shoulder, twisted uncomfortably under her arm, and had sat up to disentangle it.
And that’s when she’d seen the girl – still unconscious and crumpled on the ground not ten feet away. Feeling unsteady, Lizzie had gotten to her knees intending to crawl over to check on her, when she noticed movement in the underbrush nearby.
And to Lizzie’s horror, a monstrous beast had lurched out of the forest, grabbed the girl’s ankle, and – with one menacing growl in Lizzie’s direction, its bulging indigo eyes issuing an unmistakable warning – dragged her off between the trees.
Gathering all the strength she could muster, Lizzie had pitched herself the opposite direction. Clutching at trees and bouncing off rocks, her heart hammering in terror, she’d finally located an unlocked storage shed and collapsed inside, puking as soon as her face hit the cool metal floor. But she’d been too tired to even care – she had just laid her head in her own mess and passed out.
Thankfully, when she’d woken – the next day? – her head splitting and her mind clouded, she had discovered the bag of provisions was still somehow attached to her. She’d gulped some water and choked down some food, trying not to look at the alarming red and purple spots that had sprung up on her hands and arms since she was last conscious.
Lizzie had only barely been able to spare a thought for the little girl before exhaustion claimed her once more.
And that was how she’d spent the next several days – she thought – drifting in and out of this plane of existence, hurting all over, and berating herself for running and leaving Josephine to her fate whenever she could form a coherent thought.
Until she’d noticed her food supply was running low.
Knowing it was the only chance she had, she’d stumbled from the shed and headed toward what she thought was north, wondering all the while what exactly had happened and where everyone else might be.
But all she could do was put one foot in front of the other and pray she was headed the right direction. And that Paragon found her before the Stuck did.
Now, finally, she was here.
Her footsteps rang out clear through the silent, solemn night. The high gray wall up ahead almost sparkled in the rays of the moon, the bars of the gates casting long, rigid shadows over the pavement.
She staggered to the gate and wrapped her fingers around the cold, hard metal, pressing her face up against the bars.
“Stop right there,” a deep voice called.
But she didn’t care what they had to say. She only cared to relay her message.
“Open the gates. I need to see the Developer. Now.”
17. PLOT
“G-good morning,” the Economist extended, the only chipper one amongst the group.
“Is it?” the Doctor queried, raising an eyebrow towards the Developer. “A good morning, that is.”
The Developer bobbled his head noncommittally, his greasy hair barely acknowledging the gesture. “It could be worse.”
“That means it could be better,” the General rasped.
“Why don’t we just get started,” the Draftsman suggested, looking less than enthused at the prospect.
The Developer leaned forward, ever so slightly straightening his perpetually-slouched shoulders to call the group to attention. “The first update is that there’s another escaped prisoner rampaging one of the old drama sets.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “How does this keep happening?” He flashed an accusatory glare at the General.
Ignoring him, the General replied, “I’ll have it neutralized.”
The Developer waved him off. “I already gave the order. But we need to do something about the security within the prisons.”
“I’ll say…” the Economist agreed quietly, shaken.
The General glowered at him across the table.
“How did this one get loose?” the Draftsman inquired.
“Attacked the guards again,” the Developer explained.
“Shouldn’t the guards be equipped to handle this sort of situation?” the Doctor disdained.
“You’ve seen those things,” the General deflected. “Half the time we open a cell expecting a normal prisoner and find one of those monsters instead. What I want to know is why you can’t seem to stop the transformation from happening, or at least give us some warning about when to expect it?” He scowled at the Doctor expectantly.
Coolly, the Doctor replied, “As I’ve explained before, it’s an extreme side-effect of the memory re-encoding. If the brain has been overwritten too many times, sometimes this happens. The threshold varies by individual and cannot be predicted.”
“Never should have started with this…” the Draftsman muttered.
“And there’s nothing to be d-d-done to reverse it?” the Economist asked.
The Doctor flashed a narrowed eye at the Draftsman, then turned back to the Economist and shrugged. “Not as far as we’ve been able to decipher. It’s a hormone issue – the hypothalamus goes haywire, causing hormone production to surge and rapid changes to occur in the body. Even if we could somehow shut it down, the damage has already been done – particularly to the mind. The brain can’t recover from that kind of physical trauma.”
“Anyway,” the Developer concluded, “it’s been an ongoing issue and we’re only going to see more of it as the prisoners are subject to the memory wipe multiple times. I am working on modifying the technology to find a more permanent solution, but in the meantime, do whatever needs to be done to improve security and keep this under wraps,” he directed the General. “We can’t have one of these things terrorizing the compound.”
“Speaking of what ‘needed’ to be done,” the Draftsman segued, “what is the status of the rebellion?”
Picking up on the critical inflections in the Draftsman’s tone, the Developer narrowed his eyes.
“The rebel base has been annihilated, and there have been no further signs of activity since the blast. That being said, we have reason to believe there may have been some survivors outside the blast zone,” he reported.
“Before anyone as
ks, I’ve already deployed teams to search the area, and we’re checking the satellite footage closely as well,” the General barked.
“What about the girl?” the Doctor probed. “It’s been a week and a half since Phoenix set out with her. Why haven’t they reached us?”
The Developer shifted in his seat. “Unfortunately, Phoenix’s tracking chip got damaged by the EMP effects of the blast – an oversight on my part.” His cheeks flushed at this admission, and cleared his throat uncomfortably before continuing. “But we have been able to confirm via satellite imagery that she and the girl were beyond the blast zone before the explosion. They must be making their way here.”
“Are we s-s-sure she would definitely return to Paragon after the explosion?” the Economist wondered aloud.
“I don’t see why not,” the Doctor replied.
“I can think of a few reasons,” the Draftsman intoned, shooting a scathing look at the General.
“We have no indication that there has been any change in Phoenix’s mindset or in the status of her memory alteration,” the Developer insisted. “Not to mention she has nowhere else to go. She’ll be back,” he finished, confidently, he hoped.
“And what are our plans once she arrives?” the Draftsman inquired with obvious judgment.
“Firstly,” the Doctor interjected, “we will take the girl into protective custody, and collect new samples of her blood and tissue to continue our research with the vaccine.”
“And we won’t be letting her out of our sight again,” the General snarled.
“And Phoenix?” the Draftsman continued.
“She’s outlived her usefulness,” the General piped. “I say it’s time to dispose of her.” He looked almost gleeful at the prospect.
“Not so fast,” the Developer interposed. “I may have another task for her yet.”
“Are we telling her who initiated the blast?” the Draftsman asked.
“Absolutely not,” the General rejected.
The Developer frowned, weighing the options internally. “I think we’d do better to keep that information classified.”
The Draftsman’s face was unreadable, and the Developer flushed once more.
But before he could defend his decision, there was a knock at the door and the Developer swiveled in his chair. “Enter,” he wheezed.
A guard stepped rigidly into the room and addressed the Developer. “Sir, sorry to interrupt. There’s someone waiting to speak with you.”
18. MISGIVING
It was amazing what a little hydration and rest could do. Only hours after arriving, Lizzie woke in a soft bed surrounded by the familiar hum of Paragon’s hospital, her mind more clear than it had been since the blast.
She’d gratefully devoured the tray of food waiting by her bedside, and wasted no time reminding the soldier posted outside her door what she was there for. He’d returned only moments later, the Developer in tow.
“Phoenix,” his face brightened, loping through the doorway to take her hand between his cold, clammy palms. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Lizzie tried not to recoil at his touch; she removed her hand quickly to push herself up and dangle her legs from the side of the bed. “You don’t know what’s happened then?” she questioned, searching his face.
His eyes narrowed with what seemed like concern. “I assumed you were back to negotiate a ceasefire.”
Lizzie shook her head and started rambling. “There’s been an accident. Something went wrong back at Raptor. I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden there was this explosion and –”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” the Developer rattled. “An explosion?”
“You really didn’t know?” Lizzie pleaded.
“Of course not,” the Developer lied.
Lizzie sighed. “I can’t… I can’t really remember. I got knocked out. I don’t know how anyone could have survived it, it was horrific,” and for the first time since the blast, Lizzie allowed herself to consider the implications. Her mother was gone. The rebels were gone. Josephine – the world’s last hope at salvation – was gone. Everything she’d worked for was destroyed.
Lizzie buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
“There, there,” he soothed, awkwardly patting her back.
After a few moments, she sniffled and straightened her spine, taking a deep breath. “I failed,” she breathed. “I’m sorry.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” the Developer reassured her. “But, Phoenix – what happened to the girl?”
She shook her head, ashamed. “I don’t know. We were attacked by this, this creature. It took her. I should have followed, but I just – I was scared, I was hurt. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” A deep knot tightened in Lizzie’s stomach.
“Listen to me,” the Developer was very serious now. “Where did you last see her? It’s imperative we find her. Where was she last?”
“It was not far from Raptor, in the woods, heading north. There’s an old picnic area…” Something occurred to her. “But, wait, how did you know she was with me?”
“You mentioned she was attacked when you woke up.”
“Yes, but… didn’t you ask?”
The Developer shook his head. “No. You just said it.”
“I did?” Lizzie knew her brain was a bit fuzzy still, but she could have sworn she’d been answering his question.
“It’s okay,” he insisted. “You’ve had a long journey and a terrible shock.”
She supposed he was right, but still… She wished she could remember more clearly.
Lizzie sighed and looked down at her hands. “I just can’t believe this is all really happening. I tried so hard to change their minds. I tried to get them to come back. If they’d just listened, they’d all be alive right now.”
“You did all you could,” the Developer agreed.
“I didn’t tell them, you know. About the immunity. Not even Regina. I knew they wouldn’t understand.”
The Developer nodded. “I think that was the right call.”
“But if I had… would they all have been there still? Would they have left? I could have saved so many lives…” she moaned, mostly to herself.
The Developer gently lifted her chin. “You couldn’t control their behavior. And if, as you are saying, they refused to see reason, this unfortunate… occurrence may even have avoided further bloodshed here in Paragon. Anyway, if they’d gone anywhere but here, the eventual outcome would have been the same.” He paused, reflective. “It’s a great loss, to all of us – you know better than anyone that they were all chosen for Paragon, and how desperately we wanted them back. But you had no way of knowing this was coming. It was an accident. It’s not your fault.”
Lizzie shrugged. She knew he was right. But she just couldn’t help but feel some way responsible.
“Listen, take a few days to recover. We’ll put you up in a suite over at the hotel for a few days while we try to find you a more permanent position. You’ve been a great help to us. Anything we can do for you, just let us know.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie breathed, and she meant it. She was grateful for his support. She had no one else left.
He loosed a thin-lipped smile as he stalked toward the door. “Welcome home.”
19. CONFIRMATION
They would reach Raptor by dusk. And then they would know for sure, Isaac consoled himself, one way or the other. It would only be a few more hours, and they would finally have some clarity.
It was a good thing, too, because more than two weeks of not knowing what had become of his family and the rest of the rebellion was about all he could take.
It’d turned out that the four days of rations Carlos had estimated had stretched another full week – putting them at 11 days in their dank, overcrowded shelter – but then the batteries in their flashlights and lanterns had started to give out, and finally he’d relented. Certainly none of them could stand the thought of staying in there any longer in the pitch dark. But upon emergi
ng out into the world, they discovered that the wind was blowing in a direction that made Carlos nervous, so they’d taken a circuitous route back to Raptor in an attempt to avoid as much radiation exposure as possible. What should have been a half-day journey turned into five, but Isaac was just grateful that it was almost over.
Alessa emerged from the trees to his right, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, a sickly pallor bleaching her countenance.
“Again?” he asked in sympathy.
She nodded. She’d been puking several times a day for weeks now. Even the fresh air didn’t seem to be helping – but then again, if it was radiation poisoning, traipsing through the woods where who-knows-how-much fallout had settled over the past two weeks probably wasn’t going to make it any better.
He waited for her to catch up and wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders as they walked. She leaned into him, drained; she was breathing more heavily than he would have expected. He squeezed her tighter, trying to take the weight off her feet. She seemed appreciative.
After some time, she spoke. “At least I haven’t had any more visions today.”
“That’s good,” Isaac nodded. The disturbing waves of feeling – from the Stuck, who seemed to be prowling ever closer to their position – had been coming more and more frequently since they’d set out for Raptor. Thankfully, they had not yet been attacked. But between that looming threat and the anxious anticipation of reaching Raptor, everyone was on edge.
Suddenly, up ahead, Carlos stopped and held out an arm in warning. The line of soldiers behind him froze, drawing their weapons and peering through the trees on either side.
Isaac traded quizzical looks with Alessa, who thankfully did not indicate any sense of the Stuck being near, before Carlos caught his eye and motioned for him to join him at the front of the party.
Isaac jogged quickly up the ranks, closing the short distance in near-silence with the thick layer of ash dampening his steps, each boot hitting the ground with a small puff.
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