“Maybe we should find somewhere to rest for the day,” I said, yawning. “We’ll pick up where we left off at nightfall, use the cover of darkness to our advantage.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” he agreed. “Daylight would be too risky given the fact that we’re neither allies with the rebels nor the soldiers.” He put his helmet back on and extended an arm out toward the open road ahead of us. “Lead the way.”
Side by side, we traveled down the desolate road, searching for a place to rest, a plan steadily forming in our heads.
*****
Paige sat at her father’s bedside, his hand in hers, tears cascading down her face. Through the window, the sun shone through, warming her back and casting a faint light on Paul’s face, half obscured by a ventilator. Across the room, Chase sat watching her grimly, already knowing what she refused to process.
“It’s morning, Paige,” he said softly. “You may want to think about getting something to eat and taking a break for a while.”
“I’m not going to leave him,” she answered without turning around. “What if he wakes up and I’m not here? He’ll think I abandoned him.”
“He’d want you to take care of yourself. We won’t be long, I promise. We’ll come right back.”
“No,” she said sternly. “I’m not going anywhere, Chase. He’s been there for me my entire life, the least I can do is be here for him now.”
“Okay,” Chase said, noticing her body beginning to tremble. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go down to the cafeteria and grab you something.”
“That would be great,” she said after a brief pause. “Coffee, please. Cream and sugar.”
“You got it.”
“Oh, and bring one back for dad, too. Make his black. I’m sure he’ll want his coffee when he wakes up. It’s always the first thing he goes for when he wakes up in the morning.”
Chase nodded, trying his best to muster a smile. “Of course,” he said as he turned to walk out of the room. In the hallway, he steadied himself against the wall, emotionally drained.
“Chase,” a familiar voice spoke his name.
“Dr. Morton,” he acknowledged his colleague.
“How is your fiancé doing?” she asked. “Still holding out hope?”
“You don’t have anything if you don’t have hope.”
“That is very true.”
“Tell me, Nicole, is there hope? Do we know how long his brain had been deprived of oxygen before he was found? What about activity? Is there any? Please tell me there is something I can take back to her, something tangible she can cling to?”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder, “but I know you already know the answer to those questions. The only thing keeping him with us right now is that machine, and her refusal to take him off it.”
“I know. I’m just hoping for some sort of a miracle, I guess.”
“Would you like me to talk to her, to convince her not to drag this out any longer than it needs to be? I know how it feels to be put in the middle of something like this, and I don’t want to put you in a position to have to convince her to let him go. She can hate my guts instead of yours.”
“Thank you,” Chase said gratefully. “You may want to cancel all your appointments today because it’s going to take you at least that long to get through to her.”
“Come on, Dad, wake up,” Paige said from inside the room. “The sooner you wake up, the sooner you can begin your recovery and get healthy enough to walk me down the aisle.”
Dr. Morton glanced from inside the room back at Chase. “I’ll page my assistant.”
Chapter Thirteen
Failure
Cameron woke to the sound of footsteps and opened his eyes to see a pair of boots standing in front of him. His heart sank into his stomach.
“Victor, I—”
“Don’t speak to me right now,” Victor said, stooping down to meet him at eye level. He removed a knife from the pocket of his jacket and maneuvered it behind Cameron, freeing him from his zip tie bonds.
Cameron stood up and rubbed his wrists along the indentation marks the zip ties had left, trying to lessen the numbness that had developed in them. “Thank you, Victor,” he said.
“I told you not to say a word.” Already, Victor had begun to walk back inside from the garage, forcing Cameron to run to catch up to him. “I’m not sure what prompted you to act in the manner in which you did, but your foolishness will most likely result in the death of our organization,” he fumed. “Your role here is hardly the muscle, Cameron. Instead of trying to play the hero you were never destined to be, you should have been focusing on displaying your limited capabilities. For starters, you should have disabled the codes for the vehicles and ensured that they never made it out of the tunnel. You should have used the only weapon you know how to wield properly. Your brain.”
“Victor, I thought I could stop them. I enabled the guns in the tunnel, but I didn’t think I had much time, so I panicked and ran out here. Victor, please—”
“Enough, Cameron!” Victor yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls, practically slapping Cameron in the face. “You’ve failed me. I gave you food, a place to call home, a purpose in life, and you failed me. After I plucked you out of obscurity, where nobody wanted you, you failed me.”
“Victor, please,” Cameron pleaded, tears welling in his eyes, “I can fix it. Please, give me a chance.”
“Just get away from me. You’ve done enough today already.” Victor stormed down the hallway, leaving Cameron where he stood.
*****
I opened my eyes to a room so dimly lit that it appeared to be struggling to reach out for the last of the sun’s rays. Dusk. Rolling over, I eyed Ian, who was still asleep next to me in the bed. We’d arrived at the motel, a dive on the outskirts of the Capitol, during the mid-morning. After hiding our motorcycles in a nearby alley, we’d changed out of our suits into street clothes and paid cash for a room, thankful that the desk clerk hadn’t asked for any identification. The second I entered the room, I flopped down on the bed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, drained from a culmination of utter exhaustion and my body coming down from inflated levels of adrenaline.
Ian breathed softly—in and out—and I wondered how long it had taken him to fall asleep, whether he’d lain there watching me sleep like I was watching him now. Gently, I rested my hand on one of his arms draped across a pillow. Though his breath seemed to hitch in his throat, he quickly recovered, oblivious to my touch. In the faint light, I studied his face. Stubble had appeared around his jawline and chin, giving him the appearance of someone slightly older, yet there was still a hint of boy in his face. The boy who loved me.
“Why me?” I asked him, only to be answered by his rhythmic breaths. “What made me so special that you chose me to love?” I smiled involuntarily as though my very being was relishing this moment, right here, right now. “All I know is that I’m not worthy, Ian. I can’t tell you I love you back, at least not yet. But I do know that my feelings for you are strong, stronger than I ever thought I would have for another person again. So, I hope you can be okay with that for now, while I get my life sorted out and become the person you deserve to be with.”
Carefully, so as not to wake him, I rolled over and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the cold floor as I reluctantly stood up to face what was left of the day. When I drew back the faded yellow curtain, my nose crinkled at the smell of stale cigarette smoke, an odor identical to the one the thin sheets on the bed had absorbed. Outside, the sun had already set, leaving the sky a grayish purple. A streetlight flickered on next to our window. It buzzed loudly as it struggled to come to life, fading in and out numerous times. The night was young, our cue to get on the road soon.
“Once you get past the random stains on the carpet, the putrid stench, and the fear of sleeping in the bed, this place could almost begin to feel like home,” Ian joked, joining me at the window.
“Night already? It feels like I just fell asleep.” He stretched his arms, letting out a yawn. “I suppose you want to get on the road, maybe track down some food?”
“Already one step ahead of you on that one. I stole some food from the kitchen. Canned goods mostly, but they’ll do for now.”
“Sounds like you were really prepared for this,” he said, sourness in his voice. “My tagging along is going to put a real damper on your food ration.”
“Ian, stop, please,” I said, turning my head away from the window to look at him. “I’m sorry, I really am. Believe me, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know you didn’t, Celaine. And normally something like that wouldn’t have bothered me, but, I don’t know.”
“What? Ian, tell me, what is it?”
“When it comes to you, everything just seems amplified. Feelings, dreams, life itself, even. Maybe it’s because I never allowed myself to feel anything for anyone but indifference because I was too afraid they would be gone the next day. But after I met you, I unwittingly let my guard down, allowing myself to feel. I came back to life again. I think that’s why you leaving without telling me upset me so much. It was like my fears were coming to fruition. It—”
Before he could finish his sentence, my lips met his—hard, desperate, and surprising both of us as Ian braced himself against the wall. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body into his, keeping his lips on mine, even though I had no intentions of breaking away from him. At that moment, I wanted everything. I felt emotions I didn’t know were there to be felt. My hand guided itself up his back, stopping when I felt his hair entangled within my fingers. He moaned softly, further intensifying the feelings that had taken over me. Lust? Desire? A combination of the two?
Ian pulled away, resting his forehead on mine. “That’s one hell of a way to get me to shut up,” he whispered.
“I always thought you talked too much.”
“That kiss was the first one you initiated. It kind of caught me off guard. In a good way.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“We need to leave, because if we don't I’m probably going to kiss you again, and I won’t be able to let go so easily this time, at least not until after we’ve spent the night in this wretched motel room.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, disappointment unintentionally laced in my voice.
Minutes later, we strolled past the sleeping desk clerk on our way back to the alleyway where we’d stashed the motorcycles. In the deserted alley, we removed our suits from our backpacks, slid them on, unearthed the motorcycles from underneath the refuse and walked them out to the roadway.
“What’s the plan?” Ian asked, his fingers typing in his passcode on the bike’s keypad.
“We’ll ride until we get closer to the city, stash the motorcycles somewhere, and then try to stay out of sight until we locate Marshall Leitner and the rebels.”
“What if he’s already been captured or, worse, killed by Brooks? Do you even know for sure whether he’s still in the city?”
“Where else would he be? Brooks has the place surrounded by soldiers. It would take a miracle for him to escape. Besides, if Marshall Leitner had been killed or imprisoned, Brooks would have made it a point to announce it to the world. He wouldn’t keep that news quiet and lose the chance to deflate the morale of the remaining rebels.”
“Makes sense.” Ian struck the keypad with the palm of his hand. “Come on. Why won’t my passcode work?”
“Cameron or Victor must have disabled them.”
“Well, I guess we should have seen that coming,” he sighed. “Try yours just in case. I don’t want to hoof it or sink to carjacking if we don’t have to.”
“Do you really think that they would deactivate your code but not touch mine? What would be the point in that?” Even though I figured it would be a waste of time, I punched in my code on the keypad, finding myself shocked when it granted access to the motorcycle. “It worked. But why?”
Ian rolled his motorcycle into the alleyway. “Does it really matter why? Maybe it’s an oversight or some fluke thing.”
“Or maybe he wants me to have transportation at the drop of a hat. What if he’s planning something, Ian? Somewhat of a payback for my being less than cooperative during my time at The Epicenter?”
“Listen to you. It’s Victor you’re talking about, not some super villain hell-bent on destroying the planet.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I wouldn’t put anything past him. There’s something about him, something more than what we know.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure Kara will get to the bottom of it. We’ll worry about it another day.” He stood next to me, eyeing me expectantly.
“What are you waiting for? Hop on.”
“Seriously? You’re going to make me ride behind you? Do you know how emasculating that is?”
“Oh, knock it off. That type of thinking is so nineteen-fifties.”
“It’s not like I’m telling you to ‘get in the kitchen and make me dinner, woman.’ All I’m asking for is a chance to retain a shred of my manhood.”
I eyed him, a sly smile etched upon my face.
“You’re not going to give in, are you?”
Our motorcycle roared down the street on our way to the Capitol. Ian gripped my waist tightly as I weaved around potholes, litter, and other random objects strewn along the roadway from protests and sheer neglect. Soon, perhaps a little too soon, we would arrive at our chosen destination, entrenching ourselves in the belly of the beast itself. A place where superheroes truly were needed and where hope became scarcer by the day.
Chapter Fourteen
The Shot
I pulled over along the barren highway. We’d reached Washington, D.C.—the Capitol. There was no turning back now. Ahead of us, buildings towered over the roadway, blending in perfectly with the night sky. With the curfew firmly in place and the electricity cut off, the once industrious city had been rendered nothing short of a ghost town. And if it had not been for the intermittent gunshots and screams that followed them, it would have been easy to assume that the Capitol had met with the same fate as many other cities across the country and now sat abandoned. But we knew better. We knew there were families residing in the apartment buildings that dotted the landscape, trying to go about life as usual, as though a war wasn’t being fought around them. We knew there were rebels, those bravely fighting for their lives for the sake of their beliefs, and those cowering in the corners of the darkened buildings, praying they would remain undetected. Lastly, we knew there were soldiers patrolling the streets, unwittingly programmed to seek out and kill the rebels—and most likely us now, too—without any time spared for mercy.
“From the sound of those gunshots, it seems like most of the activity is centered around the east side of the Capitol,” Ian said. “I think we should take the first exit we come to and try to ditch this thing as soon as possible, as we’re going to draw too much attention to ourselves, if we haven’t done so already.”
I surveyed the scene in front of us, spotting an exit around half a mile ahead. “That sounds like as good a plan as any, I suppose,” I answered him.
The headlight of our motorcycle illuminated the exit ramp, displaying spent shotgun shells and dark stains resembling blood. I shuddered as I shook off the morbid thoughts racing through my mind, telling myself that the discoloration was nothing more than oil—anything but blood. We turned right, down the first street we came to after exiting the highway, quickly meandering down the next available alleyway. Once there, I looked around the narrow expanse to ensure we were secure. Satisfied, I killed the engine.
“Now the battle begins,” Ian muttered. He lifted his leg and pushed himself off the motorcycle.
I walked the bike over to a stack of empty crates and did my best to hide it so that it wasn’t immediately obvious to anyo
ne who passed by. Then, glancing up at the building next to me, I noticed a fire escape. “What do you think?” I asked, nodding upwards.
“I think staying above everyone would definitely give us the advantage. Let’s do it.”
“One step ahead of you.” I backed up down the alley, gave myself a running start and jumped, catching the last rung. Suddenly re-energized, I pulled myself up and began climbing up. Behind me, I could hear Ian’s hands grabbing onto the steel bars and the rubber soles of his boots squeaking against the rungs.
When I made it to the roof of the building, I stayed next to the stairs, scanning the perimeter and everything in between to ensure we were alone. Besides a dead pigeon, the coast was clear. Silence, piercing and eerie, the kind of silence that precedes devastation, like the calm before the storm, conspired with the darkness to suffocate us. Cautiously, I walked across the rooftop and looked out at the rest of the city.
“It’s too quiet,” Ian said, stealing my thoughts. “Normally I like quiet, but this doesn’t seem natural.”
“We’re just going to have to keep moving until something catches our eye. If we move in the direction of the last gunshots, eventually we’ll find something or someone. Let’s just do what we can to stay above them and maintain the element of surprise.”
Off in the distance, yet close enough for us to pinpoint an exact location, gunfire erupted, more violent than the previous rounds had been.
“I guess that’s our sign,” Ian observed. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I prepared myself to jump across the gap to the next building over, when I felt Ian’s hand on my shoulder.
“Hold on a minute.”
“Why? Ian, we need to go while we still have a chance to find them.”
“I know. I know. This will only take a second.”
“A phrase no girl wants to hear, ever.”
He rolled his eyes as he removed his jacket. “Do me a favor and keep this one, please.”
“Ian, I can’t. No, you need to wear that.”
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