by Abi Ketner
“How shocking.”
He laughs under his breath, but my face must look panicked, because he starts talking quickly. “After the Commander had me kidnapped, or arrested—whatever you want to call it—he brought me to the lab. At the time, I didn’t realize my situation was as serious as it was. I was hoping he’d interrogate me about my work, then let me go.” He clears his throat. “When I learned the Commander had faked my death, I knew I wasn’t going home. It tore me apart. As you know, our family was, and still is, the most important thing to me. Yes, I took my work seriously, but you guys always came first.” He takes a breath. “So, I was transported to the original lab and transformation center, where the Commander interrogated and tortured me. When he was through, the guards brought me to this cell, where I’ve lived ever since.” He sighs. “This system has ruined our society, and I fear the worst is yet to come.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” I say, struggling to think clearly. “Did you know … the virus got out? Wilson is using it as a bio weapon to bring down other countries.”
“Unfortunately, yes. It was only a matter of time.” His shoulders slump, and he slides down the bars, resting on his knees while staring at me.
“Why is he doing this?” I ask.
Dad sighs. “Wilson thrives on revenge. He’s had this planned for years. He was livid when the Commander allowed me to live, and it only escalated when a guard was assigned to protect you. He must have realized the Commander was keeping something from him. Plus, he suffers from little-man complex, not allowing him to see that the people he wrongs will retaliate at some point. His desperation for power and getting even are his greatest weaknesses. The virus is his way of showing the world he’s in control.”
I nod, my teeth chattering too hard for me to speak anymore.
“So …” Dad rubs his hands together frantically, which I know he does when he’s on edge about something. “After they locked me up, the Commander worked on your mother. He made sure I was aware of every single detail between them. Your mother loved me, I’ve never second- guessed that. When I learned she was with the Commander, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind she had a plan up her sleeve.”
“So … you both knew all along who the Commander was?” The shock of it holds me grounded to reality.
“Sutton told us, shortly before they came for me.” My father’s lips turn thin, and his face falls.
“M-mom knew all along,” I stutter in shock.
“Of course. But what her motives were, I have no idea. I’m betting she was protecting you kids somehow.”
“She tried … to tell me …” She tried explaining so many things before she passed, but I shut her out and didn’t allow her back in until it was almost too late. “She told me Sutton would be the one to reveal the answers. I’m so confused, about everything.”
“I’m guessing the Commander caught on to whatever she was doing before it got too far.” A shadow crosses over his face, making it hard to read his exact expression, but I can tell his lips are curved downward. “That man was too clever for his own good.”
“He was Sutton’s brother,” I say, “but you still call him ‘the Commander.’”
My father shakes his head. “To me, Sutton’s brother died long before he turned into the Commander. He no longer deserves to be Sutton’s brother.
“Polar opposites, those two,” I say.
“Good versus evil.”
“Sutton took good care of me,” I muse “He loves me, and I love him the same. I hope know that brings you some peace, that he kept his promise.”
“I never doubted he wouldn’t.”
“He kept in contact with Mom somehow. Maybe they were working together.”
My thoughts keep jumping from one thing to another, and I begin to lose focus on his voice as he murmurs, “It’s possible.”“She had me … arrested,” I whisper. “She accused me and claimed it was for my safety, to send me to Sutton and Keegan.”
“Lexi, I understand why that sounds insane, but your mother loved you.” My father squats on the other side of the bars, pleading with me. “She probably felt Sutton was your best shot at being safe.”
“Yeah, that’s the story she gave me.” I take a deep breath, the ice cutting my throat like a knife. “Can you talk about something else?”
“Sure.” He seems to think for a moment. “Rewind back to when the Commander was torturing me. I sensed a weakness in one of the guards, that he didn’t agree with what he was being forced to do. His eyes were pained and sad when he looked at me. He pleaded with the Commander to quit hurting me. I remember him saying it was obvious I didn’t know anything more. When he was ordered again to come at me, he turned around and walked out.
“Later that night, the Commander ordered the guard to be beaten. I can still hear his blood-curdling screams.” Dad shakes his head. “I realized that guard wasn’t suited for this, because he had a conscience.” He exhales. “The next day, the guard snuck into where I was being held. He apologized for hurting me, and I told him I forgave him, for it wasn’t his fault. I told him how brave he was for turning his back on the Commander. He asked if there was anything he could do for me, and so I told him about you. And I begged him to keep a lookout for you, in case you were ever sent to the Hole. And without hesitation, he gave me his word. I even told him about Sutton, and he assured me that he was trustworthy and he’d follow through.”
Oh God, here it comes …
“The guard who protected you,” Dad says, “was his name Cole?”
With a sledgehammer to my chest, my tears spill over. I’m surprised when they’re hot, unlike my frozen body. “Yes,” I whimper.
I love him, Dad. More than my own life. You were right.
“Good man,” Dad says. His face falls as he clings to the bars. “You’re sure your friends will come through?”
“They w-will.” My mind’s numbing, along with the rest of my body, cold and painless. If they’re coming, they’d better show up before I turn into an icicle.
“Stay with me, nugget,” he says. I don’t answer him. “You’re going to get through this.”
But I can’t keep my body from rebelling against my mind. As my eyes close, I have visions of Cole, and I smile. I’m walking toward him, and his arms are open. There’s nothing I want more right now than for his warmth to surround me, like a cocoon.
“Time to go,” a guard’s voice cuts in, and my eyes snap open as he jiggles the keys to my cell. He steps inside and unstraps my wrists from the bars. Then he and another guard move to the opposite side of the room to clean up the water and turn off the fan.
“Go where?” Dad demands. “Where are you taking her?”
“The execution’s today,” a guard says nervously. “Wilson’s orders.”
“No,” my dad says. Anxiety lines sprout from his eyes, as he narrows them. “What’s the rush?” The guards stare at each other in a silent debate before one of them answers.
“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you can figure it out.” But his hands shake, and I begin to wonder if he’s nervous about a possible rescue attempt or something else completely. Or maybe I’m just losing my mind. “Get up,” he says to me.
“You too, Hamilton,” says a third guard. He enters my father’s cell and waits for him to stand.
I try to push myself up, but my hands refuse to hold my weight and my legs are like cement. With a shake of his head and an exaggerated sigh, the first guard pulls me roughly to my feet. I fall down, unable to stand. It feels like every bone in my body has shattered. This time, both guards grab my arms and tug me into a standing position. Since I can’t feel my toes, I sway slightly. They grasp me tighter.
“Now move,” he commands, pushing me forward and into the hallway. I fall onto my face, tasting the putrid, slick cement floor. They laugh from behind me, and then one of them grabs my arm and yanks me along. The third guard gets my father out of his cell and shoves him in front of me.
Unlike when I entered the
hallway, every single prisoner faces us on the way out. They each give my father a salute, and it brings tears to my eyes.
“You can overcome,” my father says.
“Anything short of death!” the prisoners shout back in unison.
A spark of fire lights within me, my blood rushing back to my extremities, pins and needles still jabbing at my hands and feet. Not even the torture of the icebox can dim the energy emitting from the others. My father has touched so many lives and yet … he’s about to be killed.
It must unnerve our guards, because instead of punishing my father, they shove him forward with their guns to make him move faster. They take us up the elevator without speaking. Then they lead us past the lab, where Sutton waits with a grim expression. Gabe stands behind him, looking just as sober. His eyes widen when he takes in my appearance, but there’s no stumbling or faking sickness today, because at the end of the hallway stands Wilson.
His hands are folded in front of him, his face beaming, but beneath the usual exterior, I sense his impatience. He gives a stiff salute to the guards who brought us up and then waves everyone forward.
We take a different route this time, heading up a large, winding staircase. Guards line the hall, weapons ready. Instead of watching us, they face outward, but I can’t see outside the windows, nor do I dare turn my head to try.
When we stop, it’s before a large set of glass doors. At first, I notice the snow. Flakes dance through the air, landing on the ground and melting away. The wind whips them into a torrent. Sinners stand waiting before a crudely constructed stage. The wood’s light and clean, so I know it must’ve been built recently. To the left, the shadow from the heavy main gate barely touches the stage. That’s when it dawns on me. I know exactly where we are.
The entrance to the new transformation center.
Right outside is where I thought all hope was gone when Bill and Roméo tried getting the records out. This is where we made our stand, right in front of the main gate. This is where people were herded inside to get their “vaccinations” against the virus. This is where I’m about to die. There are hundreds of armed guards. I’ve never seen so many together before … There’s no way in hell we are getting out of this alive.
My breath hitches in my chest.
A pair of guards open the doors, and the wind crashes into me, bringing biting cold just as my body was beginning to thaw. Other guards filter out before us, making a walkway to the main stage. Then Wilson leads, with us bringing up the rear. My father grabs my hand, and I flinch from his warmth.
“Shall we?” His turquoise eyes hold hope even in the worst of circumstances. “Let’s show them we’re unbreakable, us Hamiltons.”
I give him a weak grin. “You bet.”
“Lexi, I’m beyond proud of you,” he tells me with trembling lips. “And I love you so much.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, as tears run down my face. “I love you, too.”
The guards summon us forward, and a ripple of surprise moves through the Sinners, their jaws dropping at the sight of us. They recognize me, even without my hair, and I’m sure they realize my father’s the one beside me. Our matching eyes always give us away.
I keep my head held high and my shoulders back, even though I’m weak from the night spent in the cold chamber. I scan the crowd for familiar faces as Wilson has the guards make last-minute adjustments on stage. If there was ever a moment I’d welcome an interruption, it’s now. I bite my lip.
No one. Not one familiar face in the crowd. Heaviness fills my stomach as I rock back on my heels.
Come on, guys. Where are you?
Sutton walks onto the stage behind us. He looks broken already. He’s forced to sit in a metal folding chair in a row with other guards and people whose presence Wilson requested. I shift to get a view of him, but the distant sound of helicopters draws my eyes to the sky. The gray, overcast clouds meet me, nothing appearing out of the ordinary.
This is the worst time for me to start hallucinating.
“You’ve gathered here to witness an execution of one prisoner today,” Wilson announces.
One? Wait, what? My head whips to my father, and we stare at each other helplessly, trying to figure out which one of us has to watch the other die.
“Lexi Hamilton!”
My dad’s about to scream, but I shake my head. No. My poor dad. He’s suffered enough, and now you’re going to force him to watch his daughter get slaughtered.
“I have sentenced her to death,” Wilson announces. The pronouncement fails to ignite the usual excitement. No one says a word. He rushes to add, “For treason.”
It’s silent, until someone shouts, “Liar!”
Another person pumps their fist at him and screams, “Let her go!”
“Murderer!” another voice calls out.
The voices are quickly silenced as packs of guards move into the crowd and take them down. In the midst of that, I start hallucinating another sound. It sounds like tanks or helicopters or something, but I can’t twist to look. My father shuffles his feet, grasping my hand so tight it’s about to break. He’s shaking and crying, and I’m crying because this is my dad, my hero, my backbone, and my death will kill him.
Wilson appears more nervous and agitated than usual. He stares daggers at the crowd and then crumples his speech and throws it on the ground. His boots stomp over to us, and he wrenches me from my father’s grip.
“You heartless fool,” my father says, but a guard uses his baton to bring him to his knees. “Wilson, I’m begging you, spare my daughter!” Hearing my father beg with a desperate heart makes my knees wobble. “I’ll do anything! Anything you want!”
“See, there lies your problem,” Wilson says. He stands two inches away from my father’s face. “You’re worthless to me.”
Wilson drags me front and center, before a crowd of wide eyes and slack-jawed mouths. He parks me there, much like he did to Claire so many months before. He swiftly kicks me in my rib cage. I scream out in pain as I hit the stage and slide a few feet backward. I’m trying to get up when he kicks me again, and the air rushes from my lungs. In the background, someone’s screaming.
“Today’s a great day,” Wilson says as he sends another kick to my stomach.
On my hands and knees, I have no strength left. My father’s cries echo from behind me. A guard holds him in place as tears leak from his eyes. “Go to hell,” I hiss at Wilson, the only thing I can do.
“Such hostility.” He turns to the crowd. “Let this be a reminder. If any of you dare to cross me, you will suffer the same fate!” He pulls me up by the back of my neck and spits in my face. “Where are your friends now?” He shoves me back down.
Then he pulls out his pistol and aims it at me. I scoot backward. Snowflakes land on his uniform and all around us as his eyes bore into mine. He no longer smiles, but his lips pull up into a heartless sneer. “You have no idea,” he says to me, “how long I’ve waited for this moment.”
“So do it,” I say through my tightened jaw.
His finger tightens on the trigger, and I close my eyes, ready to meet my death. Please make it fast.
He presses the gun to my temple.
“Lexi, I love you!” my dad cries out.
“Dad, close your eyes,” I order in a calm voice. “Don’t watch.”
“Wilson! Don’t!” My father’s desperation stabs my heart with a stake, and I gag on a sob. I don’t want to leave my dad. He was supposed to come with me.
I think about all the times I’ve been so close to dying, but it never felt as real as it does right now. The soft snow lands on my bare head, and I press my hands together and say a quiet prayer, even as the rumbling sounds start up again. I’m ready to meet you, Cole, Alyssa, Grace, Keegan, Mom …
“NO!” a familiar voice screams.
My eyes snap open.
Sutton leaps up before any guards can stop him. He sprints like a man possessed, his hair flying wildly about him, across the stage.
Wilson squeezes the trigger.
Sutton dives in front of me. A dull thudding noise is followed by his grunt and his body hitting the stage.
My scream pierces the air.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Sutton’s body lands on top of me as chaos erupts. I grasp at his torso and shift him to my side, rolling out from underneath him. He scans the sky, and then his gaze rests on my face. My heart wells up in my throat, choking my words into silence. He opens his mouth, and I realize he’s trying to speak, but I can’t hear anything he’s attempting to say. His lips move again.
“Run,” he chokes out.
“I won’t leave you,” I say, but deafening noise overtakes any chance of him hearing me. Above and all around us, the sound of whooshing blades and blazing guns combine into one giant smear of bedlam.
I’ve got to get him out of here.
Quickly, I evaluate our situation. Sutton shoved Wilson back when he jumped in front of me, so I know he can’t be too far. My stomach twists when I spot him. His mouth’s gaping wide open at the sky, his hands still grasping his gun. His face is a burning fire of rage mixed with fear as he looks upward. If he turns ever so slightly, I’ll be caught, but for some reason he seems to have forgotten about us. Ringing fills my ears, and I fight the urge to duck and cover. I won’t leave Sutton.
What’s he looking at?
I don’t have time to figure it out, just enough time to drag Sutton away from him. I grab his arms and pull. I gasp as my abdomen burns. Then I refocus on Sutton and slam my pain to the back of my mind. I dig deep and find strength in my legs, so I use every inch of muscle in my legs to continue pulling Sutton. His face twists and contorts as we move, and it kills me that he’s suffering. His eyes open wide, and he grimaces, letting out a soundless groan. I start doubting myself, because I know you shouldn’t usually move a wounded person, but what choice do I have?
None. Now move.
“Almost there,” I tell him. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t even hear myself talking. Sharp knives start stabbing my stomach, reminding me of my injury. I clench my teeth and fight through it, because if I don’t, we’re both dead. My eyes water as my body tries to stop me from going any further. No. You’re not quitting on me.