by Sarah Noffke
“It’s too late. What you saw already happened.”
There’s a prickle in my throat as I scan Joseph’s face and then his thoughts and then his emotions. My chest convulses likes the beats of a drum as the harsh reality washes over me.
“No,” I whisper again in disbelief.
“I’m sorry. Everyone who was in the main hall is dead. I’m so sorry,” he says, his lips barely parting.
“But maybe you’re wrong. How do you know? It just happened.” The dull ache starts in my back and spasms until it’s around my stomach and threatening to cut off my ability to breathe.
“I know because I was there. And it happened before the sirens went off. What you saw wasn’t a premonition. I’m sorry.” Joseph places his hands on either side of my shoulders and stares straight into my eyes.
The flash which I’ve refused to replay in my mind suddenly fast-forwards over and over until the pressure in my throat is enough to block my air way. Patrick’s limp body lying in the process of regeneration. He never completed it. If the flash I saw came to pass as Joseph says, then the lighting overhead crashed down, frying him, crushing him when he was so close to escaping. And so many others. Inside of less than thirty seconds the vision I saw showed the deaths of dozens.
And the two I replay now in my mind convulse my being. It was easier than it should have been to walk away from my fake parents. To enter this place and know my entire life was a lie has been manageable. Learning my father’s true identity has swallowed parts of my being. But to watch Bob and Steve die in my mind is an aching curse, one that scars my soul, rips hope from my heart. They were the ones to first bury any faith inside me. To love me when I thought I was unlovable. Without them…
I sink my head into my hands and feel tears push against the silk barrier. I can’t try and contain this. If there’s no time to grieve then let Zhuang strike me down, because all I have audience for is the tears erupting out of my being. Joseph’s arms pull me into him. His hands stroke my head; rub my back.
In my mind I watch Bob and Steve laughing in the main hall. Zhuang enters, but they don’t know it; all their attention is on each other. Inside my mind I scream to them, but they’re unaware. They have no idea of the weapons being prepared to attack them. They laugh. Bob pats Steve’s arm. And I watch, imprisoned in my vision. Two twin carving knives, dripping in grease and shreds of meat, spiral through the air. Their trajectory clear. Bob and Steve see the weapons too late. The same as everyone in the room about to be impaled by an innocent object repurposed for destruction. The blades strike each of them like bullets, finding residence in their chests. Steve stands, reaching for the blade and simultaneously pulling away from it. Bob kneels over, disillusioned by the attack and quick change of events. Bloods spurts out of the gashes where the serrated metal intrudes inside their bodies. Collectively they suffer. Gasps for breaths which are limited. Their faces turn to find each other’s gazes and capture a moment of comfort in the other’s eyes. It isn’t poetic that they died together. It’s horrible and only happens in worlds where the wrong people are allowed to live.
My stomach churns with revulsion. Sickness reaches up all the way to my esophagus, and when it’s about spill out of me I swallow hard knowing that now I have to hold it together. The pain sinks back down to a place deep inside me with a promise of exploding in the near future. I push back from Joseph, gripping his hands, letting the tears dry on my cheeks. “How did you escape?” I ask.
“I hid behind a nearby column at the back of the hall. When I realized Zhuang wasn’t going to move away from the exit I ducked under a table, dream traveled to the GAD-C on this level, and generated my body.”
“You did that before Aiden shut them down?” I say in disbelief.
“What?”
“Aiden shut down the GAD-Cs immediately. I was with him.”
“Everything happened incredibly fast, Roya,” Joseph says, wearing the grief of a person who’s just witnessed multiple tragedies. “There was hardly time…”
“We still have to get back to the main hall, even if everyone’s dead, because that means there’s still one last person to kill.”
“Actually we need to stay put.”
“But the fight happens in there.”
“No it doesn’t,” Joseph argues.
“But you said…” I stammer.
“Things have changed.”
“Well, if the fight doesn’t happen in the main hall, then where?”
My brother points down to where we stand. “Right here. In the lobby.”
Chapter Forty-Two
A piercing scream tears our attention away from the current revelation. “Someone help me! Please!” Samara shrieks, her voice sounding to be tattered by fearful tears.
Joseph and I exchange a single glance before bolting down the hallway, to the auditorium where the now incessant screaming originates.
“No! No! No!” she cries and the terror in her voice rips through me, propelling me forward faster. We slow as we approach the auditorium, unsure what danger we’ll encounter. I pull ahead and crane my neck around the corner to get a read on the room. Samara stands on the front of the stage. Tears streak down her red face and her chest is vibrating with hyperventilated breaths. Her eyes are pinned on the floor in front of her. The two-hundred-seat auditorium is empty.
“Help me, please?” she says, her voice a frantic whisper, eyes still pinned on the ground. “Please, Roya. Please, Joseph. Help me.” Something brown and long slithers on the stage next to her. I blink and the object clicks into focus. Only inches from Samara, curled up, is a king cobra. Its tongue flickers out of its mouth and quite suddenly it raises the front part of its body a foot and a half off the ground. It stands, swaying side-to-side, preparing to strike.
Careful not to startle the serpent, I peel around the corner and inch my way into the room. As I move down the main aisle I feel Joseph just behind me. I have no idea how we’re going to rescue Samara from this snake, but I also know I can’t leave her here to die like this. When I’m only five feet from the stage I come to a halt gently. The snake swivels around, eyes fastening on me. The sideways look I give Joseph communicates the doubt running rampant through my being. Samara’s whimpering draws the snake’s attention back to her. A strand of her straw blonde hair falls in her tear-streaked face as she gasps suddenly, backing up two steps.
“Wait,” I say, gripping Joseph’s forearm. “Samara’s hair is white blonde.”
“Shit!” he says and the projection of both Samara and the king cobra disappear. I spin around on my toes, readying myself for Zhuang to fall from the ceiling or throw a weapon at me. Nothing happens. The auditorium is a sea of quiet. Joseph scans the area too and shrugs, confusion binding his eyebrows. A long ten seconds later Ren slinks into the doorway, rubbing his hands together with a conceited knowing expression.
“Hey there, you little prats,” he says, standing squarely in the entryway.
“Why’d you do that?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“You’re daft to think Trey didn’t know you’d try and fight. It’s kind of cute actually that you thought you could stay and save the day. But this isn’t your fight. Leave this one for the adults, would you?”
“Trey put you up to this?” Joseph sounds unconvinced and slightly hurt.
“Well, he told me to make sure you two didn’t get yourself killed. Since you’re so foolish it’s really quite the task. Anyway, here’s the deal. You can dream travel out of here like you were told to do in the first place, or you can play tic-tac-toe until you’re blue in the face. One thing is certain, you’re not physically leaving this room.” Ren flashes his trademark sneer and taps the button outside the door.
Joseph and I race for the door. For as fast as I push myself, I’m still unsuccessful at reaching it before it’s sealed shut. A click. We’ve been locked inside. I rapidly tap the button anyway, trying to reopen the door. It doesn’t budge.
“Great.” I kick it repeatedly
, hoping to break whatever device is locking it.
Joseph checks the other doors and a few seconds later confirms we’re in fact imprisoned.
“This is ridiculous!” I say. “I can’t believe Trey knew all along!”
“Well, you got to give him a little credit,” Joseph says.
I scowl at him. “At this point we might as well get out of here. There’s no point in sitting around,” I say, sliding down the wall and sitting.
Joseph takes a seat next to me. “Don’t write us off just yet.” There’s a curious look on his face. “Is that GAD-C still in Aiden’s lab?”
“Yes, but it’s probably shut down too. And anyway, that’s on the fifth level.”
“Mmm, but it’s there, huh? And it has the screen that enables him to see people while they’re dream traveling, right? Like the other one?”
“Yes, but Joseph, it won’t work and besides, Aiden will be there.”
“Exactly,” Joseph says, scooching down until he’s lying flat. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
My eyes bulge in disbelief. “But what are you doing?”
“What I do best,” Joseph says with a wink. “I’m gonna smooth talk our way out of here.”
He shuts his eyes, leaving me alone in the large auditorium. Not five seconds later something rocks the long wall to the right of me. It shudders for several seconds after the blow. Every hair stands up on my body as my mind begins spinning with questions. Another blow shakes the wall, this one even louder. A major fight is ensuing just outside this room and I’m forced to sit and listen to blow after blow like I’m in a bomb shelter. Are those bodies being thrown up against the walls? Is it furniture? What exactly is going on out there? I know I can dream travel and see firsthand, but I have to stay put and watch over Joseph’s defenseless body.
Strikes now ricochet off the walls adjacent to us every few seconds. Some followed by a howl of pain. Others followed by glass shattering and debris crashing to the floor. Every now and then the loud noises subside for a few seconds, which only makes me jump higher when the delayed bang hurtles against the wall. It’s infuriating to sit and do nothing. I’m not a “do nothing” kind of person, but I didn’t fully understand that about myself until now. I like the drama. I thought it was a curse that I’d been chosen as Zhuang’s challenger, but I secretly have always enjoyed that this was my fate. Stopping evil gives my life a unique purpose, one I never had before I set foot inside the Institute.
I look down and realize that without noticing it I bit my fingernails off. Some are partially bleeding where I’ve ripped them down past the quick.
“Shit!” I curse as the loudest sound yet explodes, making the door behind me vibrate. The lights in the room flicker.
Joseph doesn’t stir like waking from a dream, but rather sits bolt upright, a look of consternation on his face. “Come on,” he says, standing up in one clear movement.
“What? What’s going on?”
“Aiden has this place monitored through a video feed,” Joseph says, taking a measured breath. “Roya, this fight is not goin’ well. It’s actually as bad as it could be. They’re out there losing terribly. All of them are about to die.”
The door clicks, like a lock has been released.
“You got Aiden to free us? How?”
“If someone doesn’t do somethin’ then we’re all gonna die. I told Aiden we stood a chance of defeating Zhuang. That we have a plan that might work.”
“And that’s why he let us free?” I ask, amazed.
“No, he’s let us free because I told him his future...if we all survive, that is.”
Chapter Forty-Three
The door slides back with a sucking sound. Aiden isn’t just allowing this, he’s supporting it. Somewhere there are cameras showing our progress as we move toward the lobby. No doubt he’s watching on them now. He’s stronger than me, because I wouldn’t be able to watch him do what I’m about to.
The lighting in the corridor is minimal, but enough to illuminate the destruction ahead. As I prowl forward the signs that mass chaos have transpired increase rapidly. I almost trip over the AC vent lying in my path. Water sprays though cracks in the ceiling, oozes through the seams in the panels of stainless steel walls, and soaks the blue carpet, making it squishy. It’s hard to believe ten minutes ago this area was completely intact. Shards of glass crunch under my shoes. The display case is demolished. Now that I’m watching the ground for a clear path I see the glass is flecked with blood. The lump in my throat assures me I’m not numb after watching Bob and Steve die. Whose blood is that? Could Trey be dead?
I take each step, careful not to make a single sound. Ahead someone sways, their back to us. They’re cowering over a kneeling figure, which looks only half conscious. I’m so focused on deciphering the scene ahead of us I hardly register the flicker in my peripheral. I edge my eyes to the left and what I see sends me to the far side of the hallway in three silent steps. Joseph slides up next to me, grabs my arm. “What the hell?”
“Rattlesnakes,” I mouth.
He flips his head to the side and spies the pile of snakes slipping through the open AC vent, tumbling over each other as they swarm to the center of the lobby, the same as us. Joseph shivers. “Damn,” he mouths.
I nod, refocusing on the battle up ahead, twenty feet away. Sparks spray above our heads from severed wires in the canned lighting. A small electrical fire brews in the display case, but thankfully the water squirting from various cracks is keeping it at bay. An ache slips through my chest to see this destruction. The walls feel like they’re about to be crushed by the water that lies overhead. This water, which has always protected us, now pushes in, threatening to rip the Institute into pieces. And when it does we’re all going to float away, just as we floated in here. My heart aches with a giant tenderness for the Institute which is about to be demolished and washed into the ocean, destroyed forever. It’s not a place to me anymore. It has such strong characteristics and emotions filling its halls that it’s more like a person. Like a family member. Whether I was willing to admit it before, this place has edged its way into my heart. It’s my home. And no one destroys my home. I swallow down vengeance, bottling it for a single fight.
Sliding along the wall, I progress closer to the lobby, not daring to take anything more than shallow breaths. The leather couch is overturned. On top it’s littered with broken pieces of the coffee table, objects from the display case, and the large ficus tree that used to reside in the far corner. The foliage-rich tree lies on its side, dirt spilled all over the area underneath it. My eyes travel down to find two legs protruding out from under the couch. The black boots are unmistakably Shuman’s. She’s lying face down and is pinned from the mid-thigh up. The weight on top of her would be enough to crush a normal person. But Shuman isn’t built like a normal person, she’s built like a warrior. However, her legs lie unmoving. If I was Trent then I could move all that’s burying her. Instead, I just stare at her legs blankly, letting the surrealism of this experience wash over me.
The smell of burning hair, sulfuric and bitter, assaults my nostrils. Sparks rain from exposed wires over Ren’s head. He’s strapped in a chair by cords frayed at their ends. As if they possess a life of their own they slide around him like snakes. Tiny puffs of smoke linger up every time a burst of sparks shower down on him, making his face contort with pain. Similar to the hair of Medusa, the black-encased wires continuously journey around Ren’s torso, squeezing him every so often, turning his face a color that matches his hair.
We’re roughly ten feet from the action when I recognize the kneeled figure as Trey. Reflexively I gasp. No! Tears I never knew could be connected to him spring to my eyes. My heart races with panic.
On all fours, head sagging, he looks so much closer to death than life right now. Zhuang strides in front of him, his sword swinging by his side.
“You have a choice. I can plunge this sword into you, ending your meaningless life. Or I can suck your consciou
sness out,” Zhuang says, pinching Trey’s chin and pulling it up so he’s looking at him. Most of his face is covered in blood. A sickening feeling unfurls in my stomach at the sight of my father in such a grotesque state. “Your blood does not need to be spilled. That would be a waste. Make this easy and bring down your shield, releasing your consciousness to me,” Zhuang hisses in a low voice, pulling his hand off Trey and wiping the blood on his white silk robes. “I want that life force within you. It will be enormously useful as I besiege the world with my presence. And then I want your daughter’s. That’s all, and I’ll leave your precious Institute.”
“You’re not getting either,” Trey says, spitting blood on the floor. “We’d both die before we gave you that.”
And Trey’s right. I would. I know giving Zhuang the power I hold in my consciousness would allow him to rise to greater strengths, ones that would undoubtedly mutilate the world.
Zhuang tucks the tip of the sword under Trey’s chin, holding his head up at an odd angle. “Let me in. Let me have your power. Give it to me now, and this will all be over.” He presses the point of the sword firmer into Trey’s neck, my father grimacing from the pressure.
“No. Never,” he says, angling his head back away from the blade.
Zhuang flips the sword around, sheathing it with a heavy sigh. “Prepare to say goodbye to your friend.” The lobby erupts with Ren’s guttural scream. It rips though the air as the cords reach around him and jerk in tighter. Ren’s face turns a shade of ultraviolet. He looks close to bursting from the pressure. The end of the cord unravels itself from Ren’s body and winds its way around his neck. Ren doesn’t appear to care as he struggles to bring oxygen into his lungs after being so tightly constricted. I know Trey wouldn’t choose to watch this, but Zhuang grips his hair, forcing his face up. The end of the cord treads once more around Ren’s throat. Zhuang laughs. Turning his attention away from Ren he presses a thumb into a laceration in Trey’s side. “Last chance to give me what I want,” Zhuang says in a gravelly voice.