by M. A. Phipps
Before I get the chance, Nolan’s voice cuts me off.
“Ezra was a mere figurehead. He never had any real power. I was the acting Head of that sect, and I made every decision, every move. Besides, the people do not need a charismatic leader. They need a strong one. Someone who will rise up from the ashes of the ruined State and rule them.”
“Rule?” I splutter in an incoherent whisper. “What happened to freedom?”
Nolan looks at me now with a dark intent in his eyes. As I stare back at him, I come to grips with the foreboding notion that this man is truly dangerous. Maybe even more so than Dr. Richter.
In an ominous breath, he says, “Even free people need someone to keep them in check.”
What happened to not wanting to lead through fear? I’m tempted to ask him.
Maybe he doesn’t think that he would be. Maybe he’s convinced that he can rule while still maintaining some semblance of free will. Even if he could, it doesn’t mean they would be any better than the State.
Silence descends upon the room like a veil of darkness. Time seems to freeze, and for a long while, no one even moves. When it feels as if the last speck of sanity will abandon me, Nolan asks the all-important question that’s been balancing on the tip of his tongue.
“Now then,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Will you do as I’ve asked?”
My eyes dart around the room as I consider what he’s requesting of me. In an absentminded movement, my fingers rise to my neck and caress the metal collar.
My breath hitches as a sudden thought takes hold of me.
Can the DSD still access my collar? I wonder.
Can they obtain data or see the information it’s collected from my visions? If they can, it means they’ll be able to discover Nolan’s plan. Or, at the very least, see enough to stop what’s going to happen.
I purse my lips as I shake my head. If they could do that, they certainly would’ve put two and two together by now. The collar collects so much more than just the information on what I see. It collects my whereabouts—or it did before PHOENIX disabled the tracking chip.
A heavy feeling in my gut tells me the collar is useless in this respect. The only thing it’s good for at this point is keeping me in control. If Dr. Richter had the means to access it, he would’ve found me by now. I’m sure of it.
My heart clenches as I stare at Ezra, still on his knees with a gun pointed at his head. If I do this for Nolan, people will die. If I don’t, people will still die. Except in that scenario, Ezra and Jenner will be included among the casualties.
No, I tell myself. Regardless of the alternative, I can’t allow that to happen. I can’t lose them, too.
Exhaling a deep breath, I meet Nolan’s gaze and nod my head once in unwilling agreement. It’s all I can do to buy myself some time until I can figure out a better course of action. If there is one.
Oddly, in this moment, I find myself wishing for the one thing I never thought I would ever want.
I find myself hoping Dr. Richter will find me.
I take in multiple deep breaths, inhaling through my nose until my lungs are so full they can’t hold any more air. Clearing my mind, I focus every thought on a specific moment in the future.
On the one moment Nolan wants me to see.
Closing my eyes, I embrace my inner darkness. The sights and sounds around me fall into the backdrop, but through the fog that veils my consciousness, I can still feel every person in the room watching me. Their anticipation mirrors my own.
It happens almost at once. I sense the change in my surroundings as the future comes to meet me, welcoming my existence like a long-lost friend. Swallowing my apprehension, I open my eyes.
As to be expected, I’m back in the Heart.
Back in Zone 1.
My feet stumble forward as my lips part in shock, stunned into silence by the horror I see around me. The city I knew is gone, and what stands before me now can only be described as complete and utter destruction. How reminiscent it is to the first vision I ever experienced makes this entire scenario even more daunting.
I remember it. The end of the world.
Yes. I shudder. This is exactly what it looked like.
My eyes trail across the ground and along the mangled bodies scattered among the dirt and debris. I take it all in, suppressing the nausea and heartache rising in my throat. Behind them, I can feel a scream there. A pure, hysterical cry of terror.
Once again, I think back to my original vision, remembering the endless blanket of death that I alone will be responsible for. What I see before me now replicates that image so closely that I can be forgiven for confusing the two. However, I didn’t cause this death, this destruction.
This is someone else’s doing.
So, what does this mean? I’m in control now, so that vision I saw when my condition first developed—back in the classroom at W. P. Headquarters—will no longer come from me.
But then what about my dream?
Unless, this is only a precursor. Unless the end of the world is fated to happen, regardless of the role I play in its destruction.
I’m hit with a sudden, foreboding thought. What if the universe wants it to happen?
What if Mother Nature has a backup plan—an alternative in case I fail to deliver the mass extermination it has in store for us?
What if the apocalypse will happen anyway? No longer because of me, but because of war?
Project W. A. R., a voice whispers in the back of my head.
A shiver runs up my spine when I make the connection. This attack will only happen because of me. Because of what I am.
Maybe I will be the cause of it, after all.
The rubble crunches beneath my feet as I take a hesitant step forward. As if in response to the movement, my surroundings begin to change. Everything vibrates, pulsating like a beating heart until it reverts to how it was before—moving backward to the point in time when the attack first began.
I see the explosions.
I see life return to the broken corpses around me.
I see the buildings and monuments repair themselves as the cloud of dust hanging in the air melts away into nonexistence.
A clock chimes, echoing throughout the reconstructed plaza. Glancing over my shoulder, I notice the large tower overlooking Zone 1. Narrowing my eyes, I make a mental note of the time before peering at the outer rim where the date encircles the clock’s face.
“Two days.”
Breathing in, I open my eyes, and suddenly, I find myself back in the compound. Nolan stands in front of me, wearing an eager but stern expression.
“Two days,” I repeat through a heavy breath. “It’ll happen in two days.”
He assesses me for a moment, squinting his eyes as he searches my face—presumably trying to determine if I’m lying. I remain still under his leering gaze, refusing to give him any reason to doubt me.
“Very good,” he finally says. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
He waves his hand, signaling to Quinn and the other men, who lower their weapons in response.
I risk a glance out of the corner of my eye, and an intense relief courses through my body when Quinn retracts the gun placed against the back of Ezra’s head. His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t move otherwise.
Content with Ezra’s safety for the time being, I fix my unblinking gaze back on Nolan. He crosses the room to a desk positioned in the far corner and drags his hands across the glass surface. The desktop purrs to life in response, revealing the computer hidden within. His fingers tap the screen, but I can’t see what he’s doing.
A flare of irritation consumes me, triggered by his dismissive attitude even after what I’ve done for him. Unable to stop myself, my body reacts. Two guards attempt to detain me when I begin to storm forward.
“Their blood will be on your hands!” I scream.
Strong arms wrap around me, but I don’t struggle against them. I don’t want to be l
ike Nolan. I despise the idea of being responsible for any more unnecessary deaths, especially when I’m well aware of how many I’ve already caused.
Nolan looks up at me but says nothing. Focusing his attention back on the screen, he waves us away with a flick of his wrist.
My feet scrape against the floor as I’m escorted from the room—his lackeys dragging me away with no regard for my well-being. Yet again, it alarms me how similar they are to the people at the DSD. If Nolan is the spitting image of Richter, then these people are his orderlies.
Letting out a breath, my body goes limp as I succumb to what’s beginning to feel like the natural progression of my life. This place is nothing more than a mirror image of everything I went through before.
The two men gripping my arms tug me toward the door, but they hesitate when Nolan’s voice projects across the room.
“Oh, Wynter,” he calls.
My heart pounds with violent intensity as his sinister footsteps echo off the concrete, resounding in my ears. Keeping his hands clasped behind his back, he glares down at me with a sickening expression of superiority.
“I’ve summoned the Heads of the other sects. When they arrive, you will be required to meet with them. They will wish to hear what you’ve seen for themselves.” Turning away from me, he mutters under his breath, “That is not a request.”
With another wave of his hand, the guards continue their onward march, hauling me off to who knows where with Quinn leading the charge. I look behind me to see Ezra receiving the same treatment, and it only now hits me what he’s gotten himself into. He’ll be viewed the same as me from here on out. A danger. A menace.
A threat.
A part of me wonders if he understands what that means. Although I suppose, in the long run, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. One way or another, it’s clear that the short-lived freedom we enjoyed before is now over.
Within a matter of minutes, we find ourselves back outside the door to my personal prison. The handle squeals as Quinn yanks it open.
“What the hell is this?” I hear Ezra growl.
A vague hint of a smile plays on Quinn’s lips, becoming more apparent when the guards shift position.
A muffled cry of protest forms in my throat as I watch them take turns kneeing Ezra in the stomach. The only thing stopping me from intervening is the gun aimed at the back of his head. Once they’re finished, they push him to the floor and kick his injured body to the other side of the doorway. My heart seizes as he crumples into a helpless, wounded ball.
My eyes lock with Quinn’s, but no words can convey what I’m feeling right now.
Smirking, he purrs in a taunting voice, “Payback’s a bitch.”
Ezra grunts as he gasps for air, and as soon as the guards release their hold on my arms, I rush to his side. The door clangs shut behind me.
I cast an angry glance over my shoulder before turning my full attention to Ezra. In a careful motion, I brush my hand against his forehead while the other gently touches his shoulder. The whole time, a feeling of guilt rushes through me.
I’ve done this.
He’s here because of me.
My lips quiver with an emotion that threatens to choke me. A soft groan coming from the corner distracts me from it for a brief instant, but when I look up, that feeling of guilt returns—weighing me down as it doubles on top of me.
“Jenner,” I gasp.
Even though he’s pressed against the wall, I can still see the blood and bruises covering his face. His entire body shakes when he releases another breath.
Without a second thought, I dart across the room. Crouching to the floor, I try to be mindful of his personal space—especially considering his current condition. However, I can’t resist the urge to reach out and touch him. He flinches when I place my hands on his cheeks.
“What happened?” I breathe.
An unexpected smile crosses his face, and I reel back in shock when he croaks out a laugh.
“I don’t think he appreciated me putting a gun to his head.”
He coughs a few times but quickly covers his mouth. A feeling of alarm takes hold of me when I glimpse the spray of blood coating his fingers.
My jaw tenses as my teeth grit together. Staring at Jenner’s face, I make a silent promise to myself. I vow that, if the opportunity presents itself, Quinn will pay for what he’s done.
A grunt of pain alerts me to Ezra’s presence, and I glance up to see him standing beside us, holding an arm across his midsection. Leaning against the wall for support, his lips curl into a grimace as he slides to the floor.
“How long have you been here?” he asks Jenner once he’s settled.
Jenner shrugs his shoulders as much as he’s able to. “Pretty much since I left your quarters last night.”
My eyes widen as a fresh wave of guilt washes over me. When I was with Ezra, Jenner was here. In pain.
Alone.
A shiver runs across my skin at the thought, and in spite of the control it gives me, I find myself resenting the collar around my neck. If only I didn’t always have to be on the lookout. If only I could just see the important things when I need to.
I stop myself. This isn’t the collar’s fault. This is my fault. If only I had been more aware. If only I had been more concerned with anyone other than myself. My mind was preoccupied with everything Ezra, and there was no room for Jenner in my head at that moment.
I’m startled out of my thoughts by the sensation of a finger poking my left cheek. I look up to see Jenner staring at me. His hand drops to the floor as he smiles.
“You’re you again . . . aren’t you?”
My eyes begin to burn, and I sniff, holding back the tears—all too aware they’ll do nothing to help us. To help him.
“How did you know?” I wonder.
Once again, he pokes my cheek, grinning at my expression. “That,” he whispers. “That’s how I know. It gives you away. It always gives you away.” He pauses to take a long, deep breath. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long.”
The way he looks at me is unbearable, so I reposition myself on the floor between them and turn my eyes so I’m facing the steel door. It would be easy for me to open it. Too easy, even. I just don’t have that same level of confidence when it comes to keeping Ezra and Jenner alive. Anything could happen beyond these walls, and without absolute certainty, it’s just not worth the risk. Not yet, at least.
Not without knowing more about our current situation.
Ezra unleashes a loud howl of exasperation and slams his fist once against the wall. A tremor runs over my hand as I rub it across my forehead, feeling my own frustration taking hold.
Letting out a sigh, I mutter, “Everything is so different now. I don’t understand it.”
At first, neither one of them responds. A strange unease clouds the room, although I can’t pinpoint the direct cause of it. Finally, Ezra’s voice breaks the silence.
“We saw the first changes shortly after you left.”
A feeling of dread sits like a lead weight in my gut, forcing me to accept his impending confession.
He knew.
“There were more meetings. Intel became highly secretive, and before we were even aware of it, Nolan had come out of the woodwork. He had somehow convinced the other Heads to elect him as our leader. I’m sure it wasn’t too difficult, considering the part he played in establishing PHOENIX in the first place. After the chips fell into place, his demeanor changed. It became clear that his motives weren’t to simply dissolve the State, but to rule in place of it . . .”
Seeming to sense his vacillating emotions, Jenner carries on in his place. “What’s even worse is that the other Heads supported it,” he grumbles. “I think they got tired of nothing happening.”
My eyes dart between them, but I’m not sure what to say. Jenner’s comment makes sense. I even remember him telling me once that he wouldn’t be surprised if PHOENIX wound up negoti
ating with the State at some point. Still, there’s so much I don’t quite grasp beyond that.
“At first, we were on board. I mean, anything had to be better than the State, right? But we were blind.” Lowering his eyes, Jenner shakes his head. “We knew Nolan’s ultimate endgame but had no idea how he planned to get there, and he did a damn good job of getting what he wanted without having to do any of the dirty work himself. He made it seem like your extraction was our idea and that we’d be responsible if things went wrong.”
“A burden we were willing to bear,” Ezra whispers.
When I meet his gaze, he looks away as if embarrassed.
“We were only ever here for you,” he admits. “We knew it was the one chance we’d have to get you back, and Nolan was aware of that every step of the way. When you told me about your collar, I began to suspect what was going on, and our little get together with Nolan just now confirmed it. He would’ve gone through with the extraction regardless of us because he needs you to execute his plan. He only kept us around as bait to get you to cooperate and deliver what he wants. Actually, thinking of it like that, we’ve probably unknowingly been prisoners this entire time. I doubt we would’ve ever been allowed to leave.” An expression of disgust crosses his face when he looks up at me. “We’ve been used . . . just like they’re planning to use you.”
“That explains why Nolan didn’t just kill me right off the bat.”
I didn’t understand it before, but now his motives make sense. He needed my power to determine when the State would be at its weakest. Aware that I wouldn’t cooperate, he also knew he would need something to ensure my compliance. So, he used the only advantage he had by forcing me to regain my memories and then threatening the only two people I care about.
Just as I’ve felt many times in the past, I can’t ignore the fact that I’m always playing a part and being used as a pawn in someone else’s war.
A predestined role which I can’t seem to escape.
“It won’t be long now.”
I cock an eyebrow at Jenner in fearful confusion, alarmed by his cryptic words.