by M. A. Phipps
As if it’s the only option he has.
The hallways seem to go on forever, trapping us in an endless and inescapable maze. Was the building always this big? I can’t think straight past the dizziness clouding my brain, and I’m not even sure if what I’m seeing is real. Everything is murky and distorted, made worse by the increasing exhaustion creeping through me.
I grip Ezra, desperate to hold on just a little bit longer.
Distant voices enter my ears, growing louder with each step we take. Ezra seems to hear them too and pulls us in their general direction, although it feels like a lifetime before we finally reach them. Upon rounding a corner, we find ourselves face-to-face with Jenner and Rai.
“Where the hell have you been?” Jenner shouts at us.
I ignore him and look only at Rai. Her cheeks are pink from running, and she looks flustered with panic, but she’s here.
She’s alive.
Relief rushes through me, acting as a natural adrenaline and pulling me back from my near unconsciousness.
“Bilken was a dead end,” Ezra says. “It was a set up by Richter. He’s here for Wynter.”
“He’s here?” Rai asks in a small voice.
Ezra shoots a cautious look in her direction, and I notice a flicker of fear in his eyes. Instead of answering, he nods his head.
“We have to go now,” Jenner cuts in. “The others are already out and are waiting for us back in the tunnels.”
“Right,” Ezra murmurs before clearing his throat. “Let’s go.”
We continue through the seemingly infinite corridors. Jenner leads the way while Ezra and I follow, still hobbling along like disproportionately conjoined twins. Rai brings up the rear, ready to alert us if we’re being followed.
We head back the way we came, since finding an alternate exit would also mean finding a new route back to the tunnels. Something we simply don’t have time for. Surprisingly, we don’t run into any resistance along the way. The building is strangely empty, leading me to wonder what happened to the Enforcers that were spotted before.
Has Richter called them off, or are they lying in wait elsewhere, preparing to attack us when we least expect it?
I try to focus on moving forward. That’s all that matters right now.
Get out alive, I tell myself.
That’s all that matters.
Our footsteps echo through the soundless hallways, our haggard breaths filling the gaps in-between. Sweat beads along my forehead, trickling down my skin as a horrible heat begins to consume me. It chokes me like a thick layer of smoke. I can barely breathe because of it, and it only continues to worsen.
The heat triggers a spark, which soon explodes into fire. With each step, the inferno rages through every molecule of my body, tearing through me with increasing severity until I can no longer bear it.
My hand clutches at my throat. Yet, in spite of my suffocation, I’m still able to scream. The cries tear from my lungs. I can’t stop them or the pain now rushing through my head. It strikes fast, hitting me repeatedly in that same familiar pattern.
I can taste the blood before it even floods my mouth, my screams now reduced to a muffled gargle. My feet stumble as my body becomes weak, the pressure building within me dragging me down to the floor.
Through the fog descending around me, I hear Ezra call my name. I feel his warm hands catch me before my body hits the ground, and his arms hold me against him, riding out my convulsions with me.
I try to concentrate on his voice. I try to go back to him to escape the future that’s intent on pulling me away.
But I can’t.
I’m too weak to fight it.
Too weak to do anything except let it overtake me.
As if waking from a dream, I’m no longer with the others. I’m somewhere else. Somewhere . . . familiar. All at once, I realize that I haven’t even left the building. In fact, I’m back in Bilken’s office. The mass of bodies still covers the floor. Blood still stains the carpet. Nothing is any different than it was less than ten minutes ago.
I turn in place, confused by my surroundings.
This is the same night, I’m sure of it.
A loud gasp bursts from my lips when I glimpse Dr. Richter standing before me. He’s positioned in front of a window on the opposite end of the room, staring through the large panes into the darkness of night on the other side.
I watch him carefully, apprehensive about why I’m here, and what I’m inevitably going to see.
Goosebumps prickle my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Austin.”
My heart catches in my chest as a terrible fear rushes through me. Reluctantly, I glance over my shoulder.
Rai stands in the doorway, her body silhouetted by the faint glow of light flooding in from the window. At first, she doesn’t move—her eyes fixed on the carnage laid out between them. I can plainly see the fear in her gaze, which now turns to the only other living person in the room.
“Raina . . .” Richter whispers.
She stumbles forward when he says her name. “I had to see for myself,” she breathes. “I had to see if it was really you behind all of this.”
He grimaces. “And now that you know?” he murmurs. “How does it make you feel?”
“I just want to know why!” she cries, taking another step toward him. “None of this is doing your mother’s memory any justice—”
“My mother?” he asks, wincing slightly. “My work has nothing to do with my mother.”
She gapes at him, her eyes wide with the same doubt and confusion currently holding me in place. This revelation surprises me, since I assumed his mother’s death was his motivation for why he so aggressively pursues anyone afflicted with the same condition. I assumed it was the reason for why he is the way he is.
“It might’ve initially been why I showed an interest in that line of science,” he admits. “But after a while, that no longer mattered. All that mattered was progress.”
His tone is ominous, sending a shiver up my spine, even though I’m not physically here. His explanation also disturbs me, and I can’t help but wonder if the man standing before us is the same person Ezra and Rai knew all those years ago.
What changed him? Was it the State? Did they brainwash him, or does he actually agree with their twisted agenda?
“Then why?” Rai whimpers. The minimal light in the room reflects off the tears welling in her eyes.
“Can you think of no other reason?” he asks her. “Can you honestly not think of why I might find her ability appealing? Why I might desire the power to locate whoever I wish?”
“All this . . . because of me?”
“You gave me no other choice,” he murmurs. “You left me. You chose Ezra.”
“I didn’t choose Ezra!” Her voice is shrill, and she shakes her head furiously as a single tear spills down her cheek.
She begins to close the distance between them but seems to think better of it, leaving a wide berth instead. Glancing down at the floor, her eyes stare for a long moment at the pile of dead bodies. When she finally speaks again, her voice is so hushed I can barely hear it.
“I chose freedom,” she breathes. “Freedom over the life of slavery you were offering me, even if it did come on a silver platter.”
“Slavery?” he sneers. “Is that how you saw it?”
“It’s how I still see it. Everyone up here is a slave, including you.”
“And what sort of life would you say you have now, I wonder? Always in hiding. Always running. What kind of life is that?” he asks.
“One that I chose,” she mutters. “One where my free will wasn’t ripped away from me.”
The hint of emotion I saw before immediately escapes Richter’s eyes, leaving him as cold and lifeless as the corpses on the floor.
“I’m sorry to hear that’s how you pictured your life with me,” he says.
“You weren’t the problem, Austin. You never were. The world was . . . is.”
Any mutual feelings they may have once had for each other seem to be lost in the tense silence. All I can sense now is the hostility between them, due to the opposing paths they chose to take all those years ago. Paths that ultimately led to very different futures.
It’s enough to make me wonder about the defining moment that broke them apart. Was it Ezra’s decision to join PHOENIX? Or did it go even farther back than that? Perhaps back to the moment when Richter’s career was decided? If he had been projected for a different sector, or if he had never been given the opportunity to work for the State, would things have been different?
“I never stopped thinking about you,” she whispers.
For a fleeting second, I see something rise within him that almost makes him seem human, but it disappears just as quickly as it surfaced.
After a long moment, he lets out a deep breath.
“There’s nothing I can do, Raina. You must know that.”
She nods, and I’m stunned to see a smile spread across her face. It’s a sad, heartbreaking expression, but it’s a smile all the same.
“Once an enemy, always an enemy, right?” she asks. “Isn’t that the State’s mantra?”
She lowers her eyes, almost as if she can no longer stand to look at him. Nearly a whole minute passes before she finally peeks up again. When she does, I notice the smile has gone, and tears are now streaming down her face in its place.
“I’ve known from the moment I left . . . what would happen if we ever saw each other again.” She chokes out the words between stifled sobs. “If it's any consolation . . . I'm sorry. About everything. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I wish it was enough, Raina. I really do,” he murmurs. “But the reality is that you brought this upon yourself.”
My eyes widen as alarm bells sound in the back of my head. I try to intervene, but there’s nothing I can do.
Not while I’m here.
As if answering my silent plea to escape this, the familiar fog descends around me, ending the vision. The room darkens into blackness as I fall toward consciousness.
However, as the last remnant of the scene is leaving my head, I once again hear Dr. Richter’s voice.
“If I can’t have you . . . no one can.”
My eyes snap open. I gasp multiple times as my lungs struggle to function, and I glance up to find Ezra leaning over me.
“Wynter!” he nearly shouts with relief.
I inhale through my nose, but my airway feels blocked. If I can’t breathe, I can’t speak.
I can’t tell them what’s about to happen.
I try to convey a sense of urgency to Ezra, but he seems far more concerned with my current well-being. I can feel the fresh blood and tears covering my face, combining with the sticky residue left behind from before.
If there wasn’t the important matter of what I just saw, I’d be terrified about the proximity of these past two visions. As it stands, I don’t have time to worry about that now.
“Ra—” I wheeze, attempting to speak.
The exertion only unsettles my body, igniting the cycle of aftereffects that now begin to attack me.
Blood spurts from my mouth as a string of violent coughs tear up from my throat. Despite how weak I am, I manage to hurl myself forward and spew on the floor. I shudder with each heave, and an icy feeling runs across my skin, frightening me with its intensity.
I can feel Ezra’s hands on me the entire time. They never leave my body, instead holding me steady until the sickness passes. Finally, I collapse back against him, completely drained—my chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
“Wynter,” he whispers. “Wynter, what did you see?”
My eyes shoot open, suddenly remembering the vision. “Rai . . .” I’m too tired to say more, even though I have to. I look up at Ezra, trying to tell him everything with a single glance.
“What about Rai?” he asks. “She’s right—”
He turns to peer over his shoulder, but the only person standing there is Jenner. He instantly straightens up, and I can feel the panic rushing through his every strained muscle.
“Where is she?” he growls.
Jenner scans the length of the hallway, but seems just as surprised to find her missing. “She was right behind us!” he stammers.
Ezra meets my gaze, pulling me so close to him that I’m practically upright. “Where is she, Wynter? Where’s Rai?”
My head is spinning, and I find myself panting, despite my attempts to control my breathing. The pain still clouds my brain, causing a terrible haze to obscure everything around me. I can see Ezra. I can hear him.
But it’s so hard to reach him.
“Rai . . .” I breathe, fighting to speak. “Richter . . .”
Ezra turns away from me, and it’s obvious from his expression that he’s realized what she’s done. I think he knew back when he first told her that Richter was here that it was always a possibility she would try to find him. Maybe that’s the only reason she even came in the first place. Maybe she suspected he had something to do with this and wanted to end it, once and for all.
“I have to find her.”
His hazel eyes stare down into mine, begging me for guidance.
“Bilken’s office,” I manage to say to him.
He nods his head once and then leans in close, so our faces are only a few inches apart. The pain in his eyes is apparent when he speaks.
“I need you to go with Jenner,” he murmurs. “He's going to get you out of here and help you to safety—”
“No . . .” I try to argue. My voice fails me when I need it most, and I find myself weakly clinging to his coat in a desperate attempt to keep him here.
I'm unfamiliar with the emotions that possess me at this moment. It's as if the fear has taken hold of me and is controlling my every movement, torturing me with the one outcome I'm beginning to realize I'm most afraid of. The absolute dread that if he leaves, I'll never see him again—regardless of what the future tells me.
As much as I want to save Rai, I can't let him go.
As much as I want to save her, I can't let him die.
“Uhh . . . I hate to spoil a perfectly good plan,” Jenner interrupts. “But I don't think that's a possibility right now.”
We all glance up at the same moment, distracted by the heavy footfalls coming from the other end of the hallway. The first Enforcers round the corner, cutting off our exit.
Ezra curses under his breath as he rises to his feet, hoisting me up as quickly and gently as possible. The emotional struggle raging inside of him is mirrored on his face. If he wants to save Rai, he has no choice now except to take us with him.
“Come on!” he shouts.
He wraps his arm around my waist and sets off down the corridor in the opposite direction of the Enforcers—back toward Bilken’s office. Regardless of our pursuers, I’m completely incapable of walking, let alone running. I’m too weak. The visions have taken their toll on me, and there’s nothing I can do to recover from them right now.
He tries to run, and I can sense his increasing frustration at my slowness. My feet drag against the floor, despite my internal pleas for them to move.
We’ll never make it at this rate, I realize.
I’m about to tell Ezra to leave me when he suddenly bends down and scoops me off the floor, carrying my entire weight versus simply supporting it. I’m taken aback by the ferocity in his gaze as well as by the sheer power behind his every step. We’re building momentum—somehow, impossibly, even with the added burden of my dead weight. The Enforcers footsteps are growing distant, reassuring me that we might actually make it out of this alive.
We turn into the corridor where Bilken’s office is located, and I can see the faint light from the open door splashing across the floor.
Ezra’s breaths reverberate against me, encasing me in the fear and suspense of the moment. The distance to the doorway is minimal now and growing smaller with every second.
&
nbsp; Maybe we’ll make it, I tell myself.
The whole time I think of Rai, begging her to hold on just a few moments longer.
I tighten my grip on Ezra, urging him to move faster. We’re so close. We’re nearly there.
A feeling of hope blossoms in my chest.
Maybe we’ll—
My thoughts are cut off as that fleeting glimpse of hope is killed right in front of me, destroyed by the sound of a single gunshot.
We no longer move. It’s as if time has ceased to exist around us, and all we can hear is the lasting ringing.
We don’t see Rai.
We don’t have to.
The splash of blood sprayed across the floor is enough.
Ezra drops me as he falls to his knees. I stumble as I try to find my footing, but my legs are still too weak. I’m about to collapse when strong arms, new arms, grab hold of me.
“I got you,” I hear Jenner whisper in my ear.
I allow Jenner to take my weight as I glance between Ezra and the bloodstained floor. This can’t be happening. We were here. We had made it.
This can’t be . . .
“We’re too late,” I breathe in disbelief.
“No!” Ezra screams.
His hand reaches for his gun as he jumps to his feet, driven by the extreme rage now coursing through his body. I know what he’s going to do—what he intends to do. He has a new mission, and its focus is one thing and one thing only.
To kill Richter.
I reach out, pleading for him to stop. There’s no time for this. There’s barely time for us to escape. One death is enough. I can’t let it become two.
Jenner, seeming to sense what I’m feeling, carefully places me on the floor and dives after Ezra. He grabs him by his coat, using all of his weight to hold him back.
“There’s nothing we can do!” he growls. “We have to go!”
Ezra struggles away from him, unwilling to listen to reason—too hell-bent on revenge. He pushes against Jenner, who launches himself forward. In one unexpected movement, he punches Ezra in the face.