My vision was beginning to tunnel, making me almost unable to see those in the communications room with me, thinking only of the narrow path ahead of me leading me into Dana’s clutches.
* *** *
Mykail’s health was in steep decline. He wanted to know why I was so pensive when I went to see him after Chris’ capture, but it took me a long time to finally tell him. I was worried about how he would react, considering his delicate state. He listened to me carefully tell him what I had seen on the news, and then he sighed and shook his head.
“You need to get out of Central, Lily,” he whispered, his voice weak, his eyes half-closed as he lacked the strength to keep them open and focused for long periods of time. “With Chris now captured, Dana will be entirely focused on you.”
“I know…” I murmured. “We’ve only got a few groups left. We’ll be getting out soon.” I bit my lip, looking him over. “But I can’t just leave you here…”
“Yes you can,” he whispered. “And you need to. I will be dead soon, Lily.”
The words, even though I had heard them often recently, still hit me like a punch in the gut. I flinched away, turning my eyes to the wall to stop the tears from coming.
“…that may be true,” I hissed. “But I’m not going to leave you here to die alone.”
“I would feel better…” he began, his eyes closing more as he began to drift into sleep, “…knowing you were safe…I could rest easy…”
Slipping into unconsciousness, his last words were a gentle mumble that was barely discernible. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and squeezed his hand.
When I finally left the rec room, Clark was walking down the hall, coming to find me.
“Hey,” he greeted, his tone cautious, trying to figure out what mood I was in after seeing Mykail.
“Hey.”
He glanced at the door behind me, nodding.
“How is he?”
“…not good.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Clark walked forward and hugged me, taking a deep breath and shaking his head.
“I am so sorry, Lily,” he whispered. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“Me, too,” I agreed.
When he broke the hug, he pursed his lips and jerked his head back to the main bunker.
“Let’s get something to eat.”
I could not eat that night once more. My thoughts were too jumbled with thoughts of Dana’s impending victory and pondering the true potential of Eyna. I felt as though I was approaching a cliff and it was a cliff only I could see. I sat silently in the bunker, watching the few remaining groups of people eat their limited rations and talk quietly about when they were going to leave for Mexico.
Once again I met eyes with Mark, who had been staring at me more and more frequently. I began to wonder if he was trying to silently communicate something, as he did not look away when I caught his gaze. But he never made my effort to write down what he wanted to say, which made the frequent a little unnerving.
When it was time to send another group across the border, keeping in mind that we were now racing against the clock, the bunker began to feel very, very empty. Most of the experiments were gone, having one experiment per group of humans for protection, which meant that a few of the final groups would be going without the aid of an experiment. We had tried to carefully decide who would leave Fort Daniels at various times, but the lack of adequate food and little sleep had weakened even the strongest of our group that we had held back.
Then, the question of Mykail came up again. Peter was soon to leave the fort, meaning the dying experiment would have even less care than before.
Mark, Griffin, and Clark met with me in the strategy room as we looked over a calendar to plan the final departures from the fort.
“There’s only five groups left to send…” I murmured, surprised and humbled by the revolutionaries’ quick exodus.
“We should try and get everyone else out as fast as possible,” Clark declared. “Without getting stupid, of course.”
“That really comes down to who is going to be the last group,” Griffin said slowly. “Mark is taking both of you and two others. And I’ve got a group of five coming with me.” The experiment looked at all of us, his eyes finally settling on Mark. “I do not mind leaving last,” he said. “We should get them across the border as soon as possible.”
Mark shook his head, motioning to me. Griffin also turned his eyes on me, confused, but I knew precisely why Mark has pointed at me.
“…I can’t leave Mykail to die alone down here…”
Griffin took a very deep breath, folding his hands in front of him and leaning on the table, almost like a parent trying to teach a child a hard lesson about life.
“Lily…he’s suffering horribly,” he started carefully. “And no one here is qualified enough to see predict when he’ll finally…pass away,” he caught himself. “It could still be weeks.”
“Which is why I won’t leave him down here to die alone,” I repeated strongly. “I know he’s a traitor and I know that he won’t survive what he is going through, but we should have the decency to stay with him to the end and not abandon him.”
“…truthfully, the humane thing would be to end his suffering,” Griffin whispered, his eyes avoiding mine as he studied the grain of the wood table.
“You mean murder him,” I snarled.
“If you want me to call it that, I will,” Griffin agreed, “but the real murderer is Dana, who ordered those wings attached to his body. Those wing and the Commission are what is killing him. What we would be doing is shortening the amount of time he must suffer.”
“Peter also will be leaving in two days,” Clark added, nodding to the calendar on the table. “If something goes really wrong we will have no one left with decent medical training to counter what happens.”
“…I know.”
I could not speak more on the matter. I knew what they were saying made sense logically, but I could not think about that situation logically.
“How many days do we put between the groups?” I finally asked, turning my attention to the calendar. Even though the momentary silence was enough to tell me that the three men in the room were not comfortable with me changing the subject, they humored me anyway.
“I think three days in between is as daring as we can get. That barely gives each group enough time to get to the first safe house and let us know that they arrived safely,” Clark muttered.
“That’s pretty close together…” I said hesitantly.
“Yes but we also have to be aware that Dana is probably hot on our trail, and he will be doing everything he can to be sure to capture us, which means sending more people to help border patrol which means more trouble for us as the later groups,” Griffin added. “The sooner we leave Fort Daniels, the less time Dana had to find us, and to build his forces along the border.”
I sighed, leaning back in my seat.
“Yeah except our groups are walking and Dana will be driving his men to the border.”
“It’s a risk we’re going to have to take,” Clark said with a small shrug.
Looking over the calendar, we decided which groups would leave on what day. Again, my vision began to narrow as I saw just how quickly we could clear out the remaining members of the Central Angels. And when Mark said he would be the last group to leave, allowing me ample time with Mykail, I realized how soon it was that I would have to give myself over to Dana.
The finality of it all made me feel sick.
“So…then, it’s all set…” Clark murmured.
“Just over two more weeks and this place will be empty,” Griffin agreed, his voice quiet as his eyes looked over the calendar.
“We’ll have to be sure that all documents are destroyed, and—”
A sharp sound rocketed through the bunker, causing us all to jump and Mark to put his hand on his gun. The leader of the Eight Group opened the door to the strategy room, peering over the conf
used and worried faces of those who were getting ready to leave.
“Was that a gunshot?” Clark asked, his brow furrowed as he stood and walked to Clark’s side.
I also got to my feet, all of us walking into the bunker. When we could see everyone was just as confused, Griffin called over everyone.
“Everyone okay?” He asked. “Is anyone hurt?”
“It sounded like a gunshot,” one woman said, looking around.
As the silence grew around the bunker, confusing everyone when we could not hear anymore gunfire or anyone screaming, a dark feeling descended over me. A million thoughts of Dana hiding in the bunker, waiting for us to investigate the sound only to kill is one by one began rushing through my head. I looked around the worried faces wondering if anyone else was thinking the same thing.
Mark, his hand still on his gun, suddenly furrowed his own brow, walking quickly across the bunker to the hall leading to the shooting range—and the small rec room.
“Mark?”
I followed him, and he picked up his pace, half-running past the shooting range. My heart began to pound in my chest and my stomach did several angry somersaults as I watched him open the red room door.
In an instant, he turned to me, arms catching me as I tried to get into the rec room. He held me back, trying to lead me away.
That was when I knew.
“Let go of me!” I screamed, slapping at him and kicking my feet angrily. As Clark and Griffin reached us, the commotion also drawing people from the main bunker closer, I managed to wiggle away from Mark’s grasp and stumble into the rec room.
My body froze, my mind turning to static at the horrific image before me. Mykail was on the makeshift bed, and while the sheets had already been stained with blood from the oozing sores, there was a new large splattering of blood around his head. His arm was limp at his side, the fingers loosely gripping the handle of a gun.
He had killed himself.
It felt like an eternity I stood there staring at the pattern of blood on his head, the distortion of his face from the gunshot wound, and the way his entire body seemed to change, now lifeless. I could not process the information, even as I tried to figure out how he could go from being alive an hour previous to dead.
Mark was next to me in an instant, his hands on my shoulders, trying guide me away. Somewhere behind me, I could faintly hear Griffin telling everyone to back out of the hallway. But it felt as though someone had shoved cotton in my ears. Everything was muted. It had to be. Otherwise it was too overwhelming.
Mark tried to turn me around but as my eyes moved off of Mykail’s lifeless body, I found them settling on I person I had not even acknowledged to be in the room.
Hiroshi stood silent near the table of the rec room, his eyes lowered, and the gun missing from the holster at his hip.
“You fucking son of a bitch!” I bellowed at him, lunging forward with my hands extended, not sure if I was going to punch the member of the Eight Group or scratch his face or what my anger would cause me to do to him. Mark’s strong hand grabbed at me, slowing my progress as Hiroki took a step back, his head remaining down. “You gave him your gun?!”
I picked up a chair and hurled it at him. I knew it struck him because he fell to the ground, but I could not assess the damage I had inflicted, my vision covered in red and my body wracked with a pain I had never known before.
“How could you?!” My voice broke, the tears choking me and blinding me further. I wanted to pick up something else and throw it at him, but Mark grabbed my hands when I reached for another chair.
Tanking out of his hand yet again, I turned to Mykail, running over to him and falling to my knees by his side.
“No…” I gasped. “No, no, no, no!” I put my hand on his arm, reaching for his head though I dared not touch the blood, worried I would do something to further harm him. I could hardy make out anything around my tears. Even my hand hovering uselessly in the air appeared to be a flesh-colored blur as the pain overwhelmed me.
“Peter!!” I screeched. “Peter help!!”
I thought I heard someone talking to me, telling me that it was pointless to call Peter, but my own anguished screaming drowned them out. I angrily shook Mykail shoulder.
“Don’t fucking do this to me!!!” I pleaded. I raised my fist, bringing it down on his lifeless shoulder. “How could you do this?!”
I hit him again and again, unable to stop myself, wanting to hurt him and also wanting to shock him back to life somehow. I let out a long cry, my eyes shutting tightly.
“This can’t be happening…” I moaned.
Two arms wrapped around my body, pulling me back from the body as my limp legs gave out completely.
“Let me go…” I sobbed, trying to shake Mark off of me. He knelt behind me, his arms tightening as he pulled my body to his, forcing me to stay still and be subjected to the anguish that engulfed me. I sobbed, the sounds echoing in the room as I leaned forward, trying to hold what pieces of myself I still had together, though all I could see was the splattering of red next to the black shape of the gun in Mykail’s hand.
Chapter Seventy-Three
I was sure such pain had never existed before. It was as if my body had been torn in half and limb from limb, but there was no physical pain. My internal organs ached and there was no way to release myself of the pain.
The time between finding Mykail’s body and the following evening when I found myself in one of the store rooms covered in blankets was a confusing blur. I woke with a pounding headache, feeling sick and dazed. My eyes were unable to focus on my surroundings, making it several long moments before I realized that I was alone in a storage room. I turned over, trying to remember how I had come to be there, but nothing came to mind.
However, all the events before—finding Mykail’s body, trying to attack Hiroki, crying myself into exhaustion with Mark holding me still—those details were painfully clear.
My body jolted with the anguish I could not name as I thought about Mykail’s body once more. It did not occur to me to wonder where the body had been moved, how many people knew of Mykail’s suicide, or how long I had even been in the store room. I could only handle one thing at a time, and I was still wrestling with Mykail being dead.
I scolded myself between bouts of grief. I had known that Mykail would die for months. It had been an inevitability. I had thought that as the time drew closer, I would be able to accept the reality of his situation. Instead, I had become more stubborn and slipped further into denial. But now Mykail was gone, and there was no denying it. Not only was he dead, but he had decided to end his own life, without consulting me, without telling me goodbye, and it was too sudden to bear after weeks of telling myself that he still had time to live.
My exhausted eyes abstract traced patterns in the cold grey ceiling above me as I struggled to breathe.
There was no way to tell the passage of time in the store room, so I did not know how long I had been alone when the door finally opened and Clark walked in slowly, his eyes worriedly looking me over. He did not speak, kneeling next to the makeshift bed and waiting for a long time before he sighed and reached his hand out to me.
Thinking that he was trying to get me to stand up, and knowing that there was no way my static-filled brain could command my legs to carry my weight, I ignored his hand, turning my head away. That did not deter him. He reached over and wrapped his hand around mine, holding tenderly without saying a word.
The gesture warmed my body slightly.
We were silent for a very long time. I slipped in and out of consciousness, Clark staying by my side. He shifted occasionally, going to lay at my side, and then sitting up once more. But he was sure to stay close to me. His silent presence was surprisingly comforting. A small part of me wanted to talk to him, to tell him how angry I was, how much pain I was in, and ask what we were going to do with him now, but the silence was better. There were no possible words.
But I could not remain in silent seclusion fo
rever.
Time passed, and eventually Griffin walked into the storage room, waking both me and Clark. He closed the door behind him and walked over, crouching next to us.
“The next group is getting ready to leave,” he said quietly, understanding that speaking at normal levels would be too loud in the somber storage room. “If you would like to say goodbye.”
“…I don’t think I can…” I croaked.
“Peter is in this group,” Griffin added gently.
I finally lifted my eyes to look at Griffin seriously. I knew I should say goodbye to the medical school drop-out who had taken care of everyone in the fort to the best of his ability. But the prospect of facing people, including Peter, was too much for me.
“…I’m sorry.”
Griffin pursed his lips and nodded, patting my leg gently.
“He’ll understand. You can see him in Mexico.”
Griffin stood straight and left the store room as another pain compounded the pain I was already feeling. I would not see Peter in Mexico. I would be captured by the Commission, at Dana’s whim, all to ensure the continued safety of those who were able to escape the country.
But no words would come forward, and there was no way for me to get up and say goodbye to Peter face-to-face. It hurt to even think about moving. Clark remained silent at my side, his eyes lost somewhere in the floor as he thought. I stared at him for several long moments before finally asking him what was wrong. He sighed and lifted his eyes to me.
“Nothing,” he assured.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I just think I should say goodbye to Peter.”
“Then go say goodbye.”
“I’m not going to leave you alone,” he insisted strongly, shaking his head, though he refused to meet my eyes. I looked over his expression, my eyes trying to discern from his face what he meant.
“…you think I’m going to do something to hurt or kill myself,” I murmured.
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