I understood at that moment that a body was not a person. It was Mykail’s light, his spirit, his smile and laugh that had drawn me to him. I never believed in souls, but it seemed to me that that was what a person truly was.
I glanced briefly up at the message Griffin had finished scrolling in black spray paint across the plastic. It was perfect. And even if it did not change the opinions of the people, I knew that it would plant that seed of doubt that we had discussed.
With a deep breath and the shaking hand, I reached forward and gently touched the cold skin of his cheek.
Before I could think better of my actions with the small Audience behind me, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to Mykail’s forehead.
“Goodbye.”
It was difficult to stand upright, but I stumbled to my feet. My legs felt like lead, and my heart felt heavy, as if it was sitting lower in my chest than it ever had before. I looked over me kill once more, and read the scrawled message above him.
I died for sins that were not mine.
With the gentle insisting hands of Mark and Griffin, I turned my back on Mykail, and we began walking away, Leaving the site to be discovered in a few short hours when the construction site opened.
Chapter Seventy-Four
I thought that the news coverage of Mykail’s body and the Commission being in some hot water again would help ease the pain of his loss, but it did not. I was able to watch the news, and see the pictures of Mykail’s body in the morning light of the construction site, without crying. However, I still felt the pain.
I moved around the bunker as though I was in a trance, never really understanding that what we had done when placing Mykail’s body was actually extremely dangerous. Perhaps it was because there had been no threat that night that I began to feel like I was living in a world separate from reality.
Another group leaving to start the truck to Mexico did nothing to break the illusion. I felt as though I was remaining still while the world moved around me as if I was not a part of it at all.
There were only twenty-three people left in the bunker when the Commission held a press conference about the corpse of a winged person who was found at the construction site for Central Hall. It was much easier to fit twenty-three people in the communications room, which should have helped me come back to the reality of our situation, though it did not.
“Thank you all for coming,” the man holding the press conference greeted the press members. I knew that the man holding the press conference looked familiar because he was my father, but the fog of my brain made me unable to recall exactly what that meant. I was focused only on the words coming out of his mouth rather than the man speaking. “Let’s open it up for questions.”
An eruption of voices could be heard shouting different questions, holding their phones or recording devices closer to catch his answer. He held up his hands, calling order before motioning to one man in the front of the room to speak first.
“Can you confirm that the winged man caught in Central by the Commission and the man found at the Central Hall site are in fact two different men?” he called.
“Yes,” my father answered. “Ample testing has been done and it can be confirmed that the two men are two different individuals, though they are from the same family. To what extent we cannot be sure.”
He motioned to a woman.
“If these are two different individuals, were both of them believed to be working with the Central Angels domestic terrorist group?”
“We cannot confirm that,” my father answered simply. “Considering the skeletal frame and decomposed state of the man found at the Central Hall site, we can assume that he was in poor health for some time, and perhaps had a secondary winged man that was responsible for the destruction that plagued this city.”
“Has there been any progress in finding the other members of the Central Angels group?” a man called in the back. “So far, we have only heard of these winged men and nothing of the dozens of people that paraded the streets of Central.”
“We have found three small groups of individuals who have shown affiliation to the Central Angels trying to escape across the southern border,” my father answered.
I could not hear the rest of his explanation as my brain turned to static.
“Do you think it’s a bluff?” Clark asked sharply, turning to Mark. The leader of the Eight Group remained staring at the screen, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, though he made no moves to answer.
“It’s possible,” Griffin said slowly, also watching the screen, though he spared a glance at everyone who had turned to him, waiting to hear what he thought of the statement. “It might just be a bluff, or it might be an outright lie to assuage the people into thinking that they’ve already begun apprehending us.”
“Or it’s true…” I whispered.
“Considering the numbers we have sent, it is still good odds for everyone to make it across,” Clark muttered. “Three out of twenty-five is still impressive.”
“—we can assure everyone that we are working hard to apprehend the criminals known as the Central Angels,” my father said strongly, pulling our attentions back to the press conference. “In fact, the man who captured the winged man destroying Central has been tasked with tracking down all members of the Central Angels.”
The press conference continued with ease, but everyone in the Communications room had become very pale, turning to one another as yet another layer of dread was added to the few remaining members of the Central Angels.
“We have to get out of here, now,” Jeff snapped, turning to Griffin. “If they’re sending that monster after us we are all dead.”
Nearly everyone voiced their agreement, more worried about the Machine of Neutralization than being caught by the Commission.
A few of the members even stood up and began to leave the room. Mark surprising all of us, suddenly stood and slammed his hand down on the desk. The sound resonated to the room startling everyone to remain still. His eyes were dark and purposeful as they stared each one of us down. He didn’t appear angry, but stern enough that we wanted to obey him.
Griffin stepped forward, clearly understanding what Mark was trying to say and deciding to translate for translate for him.
“We cannot allow this to make us panic,” Griffin said. “This is a scare tactic. Dana is trying to get us to panic and be stupid. We know that the plan we have in place is working, even if three groups have been caught by the Commission, which there is no proof of them doing so.”
Clark and I shared a knowing look.
“We stick with the plan,” Griffin said strongly. “We will not allow Dana to make us panicked.”
Slowly, everyone return to their seats. There was still heavy apprehension over the entire room, since the thought of sticking around and waiting for the possibility of the Machine of Neutralization finding us was nightmarish. However, they all understood that Griffin was right. Mark watch everyone go back to their seats, his eyes sharp like a hawk. I understood his stern demeanor. We had help so many of our own across the border already, it would be a shame to lose our calm so late in the process.
The press conference was filled with similar statements that made us worried for our continued safety in the bunker. Even though we were sure that Dana would have already attacked if he knew where we were, there was no telling how long we would remain hidden from his view. We only had to wait one more week until all of us would be out of the bunker. But one week felt like an eternity.
A day after the press conference, Griffin left with his group.
Somehow, it was harder to say goodbye to Griffin then it had been to say goodbye to Tori a month previous. Griffin hugged me tightly, his large arms making me feel even smaller than I already did. He held me tight for a long time and, for a few moments, I was worried he was not going to let go.
“I will see you in Mexico,” Griffin said strongly, finally pulling away from the hug. I nodded wordlessly. There was no wa
y I could lie to his face and tell him that I would see him in Mexico. It was not true.
With one final, all-encompassing hug, Griffin took his five humans out of the bunker and started the journey to the southern border.
The final few days that we had in Fort Daniels were quiet and dark. The words from the press conference and the threat of Dana looming over our heads made it difficult for anyone to get much sleep.
I had returned to sleeping in the bunk room, but I barely slept. I would stare silently at the bottom of the bed above mine, playing out the different scenarios in my head of Dana taking me into the Commission of the People. With so few of us left, it was becoming a crushing reality what my new future would look like.
The problem I had with turning myself over to Dana was that I was never not under the watchful eye of Mark. I was beginning to suspect that he already knew what I was planning and refused to let me out of his sight so that I would never not have opportunity to turn myself over to Dana. I understood the mentality, particularly after I had left Mykail alone and allowed him the opportunity to kill himself. But it did pose a problem for me ensuring Mark’s safety from Dana.
I was still under the delusion that I had some power over what Dana did. I was sure that if I turned myself over to him, I could negotiate him into leaving the other former revolutionaries alone.
The day before the next group was to leave the bunker, we found out that we had almost no bullets for the guns that the group leaders carried. Mark had some bullet stashed away on the hillside where he normally parked the van, hidden from the general view. Since he was so unwilling to leave me alone, he decided to take me with him as he went to collect the emergency supplies.
I trailed along behind him as we wove through the tunnels leading to the reservoir hillside and finally helped Mark open the door that allowed us to go outside into the fresh air.
It felt like years since I had seen sunlight. It was a mostly overcast day, but the brief glimpses of blue sky beyond the gray clouds offered a small respite to the dark thoughts that had been clouding my mind. I took a deep breath, allowing the cool mountain air to fill my lungs, feeling as though I could finally breathe again.
Mark and I walked slowly toward his hidden stash of goods, both of us reveling in the fresh air we had been denied for months.
I tried to take in every sensation—the feeling of my feet hitting the ground, the crunch of fallen leaves and twigs, the way the cold air burned my lungs as I begin to breathe heavier as we trekked up the hill, the way the sun warmed my face as I looked up to the clouds. Such sensations felt foreign to me, and yet as welcoming as returning home after a long trip. It was the best I had felt in a very long time. Mark also seem to be reveling in the feelings, as he would watch his feet and every now and then glance up at the birds flying into the trees.
It seemed we had both forgotten that there was an outside world to Fort Daniels.
We walked past the water tanks where we had broken out the prisoners of the Commission of the People, but we did not pay attention to them. From there we counted our steps and kept an eye on the distant tree line, knowing that we had to go further uphill before discovering the area where Mark kept his supplies buried. It was nice to clear my mind, and I enjoyed walking in silence with Mark. It felt like the most normal thing I had done in years.
Mark set to work unburying the boxes of ammunition that he had stored near the concealed van. I stood watch, glancing down to see his progress on occasion, but mostly staring at the surrounding landscape. I looked over the glistening waters of the reservoir, trying to recall the feelings that I had felt in simpler times when we were still planning to break people out of the Commission.
Mark stood straight when he had unburied ten cases of bullets and kicked leaves and dirt over the freshly disturbed ground to conceal the location of the remaining bullets. I had no idea how many more he had left, but, as usual, I was thankful for his preparedness. He began handing me boxes of heavy bullets and I took them mechanically, hardly thinking.
A loud metal screech pierced the air, disrupting the calm we had achieved during our walk. We both went deathly still, staring at one another, waiting for another sound. Slowly, I turned my head, my eyes scanning over every tree and bush, trying to pinpoint what had made the sound.
My eyes caught movement near the water tanks down the hill. It appeared the movement had caught Mark’s attention, too, as his head snapped instantly in that direction, his eyes sharp.
I waited to see the movement again, my eyes looking over the brown water tanks surrounded by a chain-link fence. I held my breath, worried. Just as my body was beginning to relax and I began to believe I had hallucinated the movement, I saw what had made the screech.
A man stepped out from behind one of the water tanks, completely naked and dripping wet. His tall, broad frame stood in sharp contrast to the water tanks, and his brown hair, completely drenched, hung over half of his face as he looked around.
My heart dropped to my stomach. I felt every fiber of my being screaming at me to run, but I was frozen to the spot, too overwhelmed to move.
Dana had found the escape route we had used to break out the experiments and prisoners of the Commission of the People.
That meant that he was very close to finding the fort.
Mark’s sudden, vice-like grip on my wrist nearly caused me to scream. I stared at him with wide, fearful eyes, silently hoping he knew how to get us out of this dangerous situation. He was clearly also surprised, but is purposeful eyes somehow kept me from making enough noise to attract Dana’s attention. Nodding to me once, he hauled me to the nearest tree. I pressed my back to the rough bark, hoping my labored breathing was not loud enough to draw Dana’s attention.
In that moment, faced with the very real possibility of being captured, every instinct inside me told me to run. I had made peace with my own inevitable fate, but I did not want to put Mark in further danger.
When I felt I could control my breathing a little bit more, I carefully peered around the side of the tree, Mark doing the same. Dana was wandering around the water tanks, looking over every detail, trying to piece together the puzzle of our escape. I briefly wondered where he had gotten the idea to try swimming out of the river in the Dome.
My curiosity also got the better of me. I had never seen Dana’s skin before. He had always been perfectly put-together, dressed in immaculate three-piece suits. We were too far away to see any details on his skin, like scars or tattoos, but his frame still seemed large and impressive even without the tailored suits he always wore. It was seeing him naked that made me realize that even though Danna was a force to be reckoned with, he was still only a man.
I watched as Dana stepped slowly toward the gate of the chain-link fence that surrounded the water tanks. He seems unconcerned with his naked, wet state, more interested in the padlocked chains that held the gate closed. I heard the jingling of metal, but I could not see exactly what his hands were doing. However, I remembered immediately that Mark had broken the padlock months previous, a memory that came flooding back quickly when Dana easily opened the gate, allowing the heavy chains to fall to the cement below.
As he opened the gate and prepared to leave the enclosure of the water tanks, panic swelled within me once more. I turned to Mark, trying to communicate with my eyes that we needed to run immediately. However, he shook his head, remaining stubbornly in place.
Dana took three long strides out of the enclosure, his toes barely reaching the end of the concrete slab. There, he stopped, staring out over the hillside, still as a statue. I held my breath.
There is no doubt in my mind that Dana was about to discover Fort Daniels. And once he did, the bunker would no longer be safe for us, but rather a place where he could corner us.
There was no time left.
I had to be sure that no one else was hurt because of Dana’s obsession with me.
For what seems like an eternity, Dana studied the hillside, his eyes sharp over
every rock and bush, trying to discern the most likely path we had taken when we escaped the Commission of the People. Eventually, he turned and walked back into the enclosure of the water tanks, not bothering to close the gate behind him, indicating that he would be back soon. He disappeared around the largest tank and everything went deathly still.
Mark made sure to remain behind the tree for an even longer period of time, just to be sure that we were safe. When he was certain that Dana had returned the way he came, he pulled me away from the tree, stooping to gather the remaining cases of bullets before we quickly made our way back to Fort Daniels.
But my panic did not diminish even as we drew closer to the safe haven we had called home for months. If anything, I felt more anxious, as if I was leading Dana to the few remaining survivors, like a fox finding a hen house. My eyes remained on the ground, watching it pass out under my feet as Mark lead me back to the bunker.
Once inside the main bunker, Mark closed the door and turned to the few people left of the Central Angels. His frantic eyes must have told them something was wrong because everyone immediately crowded around, asking what was wrong.
Realizing Mark could not tell them what we had seen, it fell on me to explain.
“Dana is close,” I said.
“What?” Clark hissed, his eyes going wide.
“We saw him at the water tanks just now,” I said, trying not to let my anxiety weaken my voice. “He must have figured out how we got the experiments and the prisoners out of the Commission.”
“What do we do?” one man asked, his eyes shooting wide with fear.
“Don’t panic,” Clark said strongly, though it was clear he was struggling to heed his own advice. He turned his eyes on me. “He didn’t follow you, did he?”
“No, of course not!” I insisted. “We were getting supplies and saw him come out of the hatch next to the water tanks. But if he’s gotten this close, it won’t be long until he finds an entrance to the fort.”
Inside Page 170