“You did this,” he hisses at me.
“No, you did this. You need to calm down,” I whisper, taking small steps away from him. I fear if I make bigger movements, his attention will be drawn back to me.
“You did this!” he screams hysterically, his body turning away from his aunt.
This time, I can’t help it, I run. I run fast enough that I can’t get any air into my lungs. I look for a weapon, for something that I can use against Corby, yet there is nothing. At least, nothing that is likely to work quickly. So I wrap my hands around one of the knives in the kitchen. It’s not the sharpest and it’s small. With Corby in full protective gear, I only have a small hope of cutting his neck to do any major damage.
“What is going—?” One of the soldiers steps up to us and then quickly ducks down when Corby shoots at him. He is immediately eager to scatter away, calling for everyone to get back.
“And what do you expect to do with that?” Corby taunts me.
What do I plan to do? If I do manage to stab him in the neck, what are the chances he survives? Am I planning to kill him? Kill or be killed?
“You know, I told your boyfriend that I would play with you first, is that what you want me to do?”
A cold shiver erupts inside me. How do I get out of this one? Do I get out of this one alive? My mind races and I think back to our previous confrontations. The first one Will was there, as well as other soldiers, and they were able to rip him off me. I don’t have that here, and Corby has a gun. That complicates this. Ethan was able to talk him down. Is that something I can do? Do I try?
“I thought you had to keep me safe? I thought you wanted to protect America? I thought I was needed to do that?” My questions have the opposite effect I’m hoping for. They appear to enrage him further.
“I am protecting America! You need to be killed! You are going to ruin everything. Every mission we’ve done has helped keep America safe. I’m a hero!” he screams at me, wiping at the blood pooling down his face from his nose. “See this? I volunteered for this because I want to do everything I can to protect America. I let them cut into my brain to make me a better soldier, and it worked. I am stronger and fitter than anyone else. I can kill a man with just one fist.”
I begin to realize how misguided these soldiers have been led to be. Ethan, too. They’ve been fed lies to get them to do these unspeakable things, and now they’re being told that what they’re doing isn’t heroic but treason?
“You’re right,” I lie, trying to get the shaking out of my voice. “I’ll stop this. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay with P.A.G.E..”
“You’re lying!”
“I’m not. You’re right, you’re protecting America and we all need you, we need soldiers like you. I won’t jeopardize that.”
“I can’t believe a word you’re saying. You were just planning to escape this place and sell us out. You all need to die for that.” He takes a menacing step towards me, his grip on his gun tightening. Maybe I could get him to grip it so hard that he’ll break it? He’s certainly strong enough to do that.
“But we have abilities, too, remember? I can see the future. I can help future missions, make sure they run smoothly. Will is almost as strong as you. Blake can read minds—”
“Don’t mention that traitor to me!” he shouts, taking another few steps towards me. I’m leaning against the kitchen counter now with nowhere else to go.
“Okay, I won’t again; I promise. It’s just that we have a pretty good team here. We’re all needed to protect America.”
“Wrong. I don’t need you.”
He is standing in front of me now, the gun pointed at my forehead. He looks me in the eye as his finger twitches over the trigger. There is no way he can miss from here and no way that I can avoid the incoming bullet except luck is on my side. The chamber is empty. There are no more bullets left.
A small part of me sighs in relief, but it’s short lived. His hand comes out of nowhere and slaps me so hard across my face that I lose my feet and fall hard to the ground. My vision wavers and I feel dizzy. I watch three Corby’s standing over me, reloading the gun in their hands. I close my eyes, not wanting to see three of the man trying to kill me. I don’t even want to see one.
I feel the knife still gripped tightly in my hand. From this angle, I only have one choice. I slam my hand down over Corby’s foot, piercing the knife into his shoe and stabbing his foot.
He growls at me, kicking me in my ribs with his injured foot, and then he reaches down and pulls it out, throwing it to the side. Just like that, no hobbling, no slowing down, and no sign that I just stabbed a blade into his foot.
I know there isn’t any getting out of this now. As horrible as this moment is, at least Mom and Charlie won’t know about it. They’ve already mourned my death. They won’t ever know I lived on only to be gunned down months later in terror. They won’t know any of this.
“Saying your prayers? Don’t worry; God won’t save you, either,” Corby taunts me.
I open my eyes, noticing his shoulders have shrunk back to his usual size. His eyes aren’t as bloodshot and his face appears pale. Although the color might look worse than it is due to the deep red blood all over him.
“Please don’t do this,” I beg one last time, not bothering to put any feeling behind it. There isn’t any point, he can’t be reasoned with.
He crouches down in front of me, his face coming close to mine and I hold in the vomit rising in my throat at seeing his blood up close.
“You’re a traitor and you deserve to die,” he hisses at me, facing the gun at my chest.
I wait for him to pull the trigger, wait for him to end me, but instead, he winces in pain. His grip loosens on the gun handle and he holds his head as if in pain. Most likely a side effect of his forced ability. I take the opportunity in front of me and grab hold of the gun, however he is lucid enough to realize what I’m doing and tries to keep the gun. We both lose our grip and it moves in-between us. Then my fingertip finds the trigger and I don’t give myself time to think, don’t give myself time to worry about where the shot will end up. I push down on it and hear the blast that erupts from it as it goes off.
The bullet shoots out into Corby’s shoulder and he howls in pain. He falls backwards in shock and I’m left holding the gun. I take it in my hand properly and get to my feet, moving away from him. I only make it a few steps from him when my feet knock into something and I lose my balance. I fall to the ground, but I don’t ever take my eyes off Corby. His shoulders are growing again, his eyes are blood red and his nose continues to gush blood. His whole body expands in front of me as the fear inside me rises with it.
“You are dead. Your friends are dead. Your family is dead,” he threatens me, storming towards me.
This time, everything slows down. My fear ebbs away and my thoughts consume me. If I pull this trigger, I will kill him. I will end his life. I will become a murderer. His blood will never wash off my hands. I don’t have it in me to end a life; I’m not the type of person who can do that. However his words have erupted something inside of me. He threatened my friends, my family. This man is pure evil, and if he isn’t stopped now, then when will he be?
I’ve always known that I’m not capable of murder, but I raise the gun to him and prove myself wrong. For the first time ever, my aim holds true. My arms don’t waver, my hand doesn’t shake and my finger doesn’t hesitate. My heart slows and my body relaxes. I shoot Corby in the chest, and then my finger presses the trigger again and again. It’s four shots later that he falls to his knees, but he doesn’t appear fatally injured. Blood seeps through his shirt, yet he tries to get back up again. I jump to my feet, getting into a better position, standing over him.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. Not to Corby, not really. I’m apologizing to Dana. She would never condone this. She would never forgive me for this. I’m about to kill a human being, one that might not deserve to live, but that doesn’t matter. The old me would have never done
this. I’m forever changed now. The Zoe that Dana knew no longer exists. I may have died inside the same day she did, but there was still part of me left. Now, there is nothing.
Pushing all doubt aside, I pull the trigger and end Corby’s life. I shoot him in the head and he drops to the ground with his eyes still open, still bloodshot. I release the gun next to me, bend over and vomit. When there is no food left inside me, I dry retch, feeling my throat rip inside me. Once I’m able to stop, I stumble backwards, my feet barely able to keep me standing. I make it to the hallway and fall against the wall, sliding down it. My mind spins at a hundred miles an hour. My vision fades in and out. My heart races. My body sweats. I can’t catch my breath and I think I’m going to pass out.
Someone approaches me, someone I vaguely notice is wearing a suit, and the air is officially knocked out of me when I see that it’s Stan approaching me and he’s holding a gun. He is shouting at me, I think. I’m not sure; my ears are blocked and I swear I can hear water rushing over me. It sounds like I’m in the ocean.
Stan holds the gun in front of him, the anger radiating from him already telling me what he plans to do. I close my eyes, listening to the water rushing passed me. I imagine myself in the ocean swimming. I imagine Dana is with me and maybe this is what the afterlife is like. There aren’t bright lights or tunnels to walk down. No, there is just me and my best friend.
When the gun fires, I ignore any urges to open my eyes. I don’t want to leave the water. I want to stay with Dana.
Arms wrap around me, but I resist rousing to the shaking. I let the darkness consume me.
Chapter 25 – THE PLEA
“Zoe, wake the fuck up!” a voice shouts into my ear and I wince in pain. “Finally, come on, I need you awake!” The voice continues its’ badgering of me, and I struggle to realize where I am and what’s happening.
I crack my eyes open, seeing a large man leaning over me. “Ocean?” I mumble, my voice feels raw for some reason, and my stomach is queasy.
“We need to get out of here,” he urges me, grabbing my arms and forcing my legs upright. He has to keep his arms around me because my legs refuse to hold me.
“What happened?” I ask him, not remembering anything since witnessing Frank’s murder. Frank was murdered. Stan killed him. That realization jolts my mind into gear.
“It’s Will; he was shot and I think he’s…” Ocean trails off and I look at him properly. He’s pale, his arm is bleeding, his face is heavily bruised and his clothing is ripped in places.
“He’s what?” I demand, trying to step around Ocean to get to Will, but stopping short at seeing Stan’s body on the ground. He’s still alive, but he’s stuttering blood as he gasps for air. My jaw drops to the ground and I forget how to breathe. “What happened to him?”
“He was about to shoot you; I had no choice. I found the gun by Corby and used it.” Ocean explains, dragging me away from him. I see Martha’s dead body ahead of us and my legs wobble before Ocean’s arms tighten around me. He takes me into the men’s area and, at first, all I can see is the destruction. Bullet holes, blood and broken furniture are everywhere. Then I notice everyone in the room. Ethan is leaning over Pratt where he’s holding a shirt tightly to her chest. I can tell he’s upset and panicked. Next I see Blake, and he’s also leaning over someone. When he turns back and sees me he leans away from the person, and I get my first look at Will.
His eyes are closed, his face pale and blood is covering the entire front part of his shirt.
I push away from Ocean, racing to Will. My feet carry me until I make it to him and plummet to the ground beside him, crying. He can’t be dead. He’s Will; he’s meant to be bulletproof.
I pull his shirt up, ignoring the blood staining my hands and look at his exposed chest. I see the bullet wound. It looks raw and exposed.
“He’s not breathing. There’s nothing we can do. I’m sorry.” Blake places a hand over my arm, but I shrug it off.
“He’s going to be okay. He’s too strong to be killed by this,” I say, sounding more hopeful than I truly feel. I place my hands on either side of Will’s face, leaning over him so my eyes are level with his. “Will, it’s time to push the bullet out. It’s time to wake up.” My tears fall onto his face, but he remains still.
Ethan calls out something and both Ocean and Blake leave me alone to tend to Pratt. They’ve given up on Will.
“You can do this, Will. You can make it through this. I know you can,” I tell him, stroking his face softly. “We’re going to be free of this place and we’re going to get out of here now. You can go wherever you want. You can go back to where you were before, to the friends you made, if you want. Or you can stay with me, you can have a home. Charlie will be there, too, and we can be a family. I promise, Will, you don’t have to be alone anymore. Just push the bullet out,” I beg, my tears coming in thicker now.
I lean back, staring at his blood-soaked chest, watching his chest, hoping to see movement. Noises surround me, but I push them away. I focus everything on his wound. It’s not fair. Will is only a kid, he doesn’t deserve to die. How many times have I nearly died in the past year? How many times even just today? It’s not fair that I got lucky so many times and Will gets the worst luck ever. He didn’t even get a chance to fight, didn’t get a chance to react. His whole life has been unfair. He lived in a bad home where he was beaten by his uncle until he ran away onto the streets. Then he loses his only friend and is dragged into this whole mess. He’s only seventeen and he deserves a chance at a life. He deserves a chance to be happy and normal.
I don’t know how long I stare at his chest for, not sure how many times I have to remind myself to breathe. I focus all my energy on Will and try to see a future for him that’s true. Try to see him alive and happy. And I do see that. I see him wearing a graduation gown, surrounded by all of us and we’re all smiling. I see him looking older, fitter and handsome. He’s wearing a fitted suit and dancing slowly with a woman in his arms. She is stunning, gazing at Will lovingly just as he is looking at her full of love also. He quickly twirls her in his arms and she laughs when he brings her into a dip, taking her close to the ground then lowering his lips over hers.
It changes then and I see him holding a boy in his arms. His dark blonde hair stands out and his skin is deeply tanned brown, a combination of Will and the woman I had seen him dancing with earlier. It’s the same woman who walks up next to him, holding her bulging stomach. She is quite clearly pregnant. This is his family. This is a future he could have if he can survive this.
I open my eyes, my vision swimming; I shake my head to clear it. I can feel a headache forming, but I push it aside.
“We came here together, Will, and we’re leaving together. I don’t care what you have to do, I don’t care how hard it is or how much it hurts, you get that fucking bullet out of your chest and breathe. You stay alive because I promised Rose I would protect you. I promised Rose I would look after you, and you know what? You’re supposed to look after me. We look out for each other and you can’t do that for me if you’re dead. So push the bullet out, Will! Choose to live!” I shriek at him, knowing I sound delirious.
He doesn’t move, my words do nothing and I collapse over him, crying. That future I saw wasn’t true, not anymore. It was my imagination trying to force something to happen, giving me false hope. Will is dead and he’s not coming back.
A long time passes. I don’t move. My body is numb. I think about the Will I met back at The Windmill. It was only just over a year ago now, but it feels like a lifetime. I remember his disheveled hair, how skinny and young he looked. Then I think about the day we staged our own escape. That day we made it outside The Windmill and into the parking lot and felt the rain on our skin. He looked happy in that rain, he looked free, but he wasn’t ever free, none of us were. And now he’s died, trapped in this evil place.
My tears are streaming quickly down my face, and I’m shaking over his lifeless body. I don’t know what I’m suppos
ed to do. I can’t leave here without him. I can’t leave him here like this. He deserves better than that. He deserves to finally be free.
I slowly sit up, my teeth chattering. I think I might be going into shock. I run my now bloodied fingers over his face and feel the soft skin underneath my fingertips. I lean over him, kissing his forehead gently, thinking back to the kid that looked at his presents in wonder on Christmas morning. The kid who gazed curiously over the comics Rose and I had picked out for him. I think about that kid who I had been able to see grow into a man.
“I love you, Will,” I say, staring at his naked chest again. His shirt is still rolled up, and I stare at the intrusive hole, hoping one last time for a miracle. I concentrate so hard on that wound that I’m sure my mind is going crazy when I see him twitch.
Did he just move?
I hold my breath, willing myself to stop shaking so I can be sure.
“Will?” I sound breathless. I blink away the tears getting in the way of seeing his body clearly.
I glance around the room quickly, hoping someone else saw him move, but we’re alone. Blake, Ocean, Ethan and Pratt are gone. Only Maggie remains, and she looks to be unconscious.
I hold my fingers against his neck, hoping to feel a pulse. If anyone can get through this, Will can.
Long seconds, maybe even a minute passes and there is nothing. I sit back in defeat, blinking through fresh tears and then I see it again. His shoulders twitch, and his eyebrows move, leaving him looking as though he is permanently wincing.
I hold my breath, staring at his wound and then out of the corner of my eyes I see something. I look again at his face and his eyes have opened.
“Will!” I yell out, shaking his arms.
When he groans, it’s quiet, but I know it’s there. His arm spasms for a moment before going still again, and his eyes shut.
“You’re alive!” I cry out, patting the side of his face, hoping to coax his eyes open again.
He mumbles something, but there is no way I can hear it. It’s too quiet and my focus is somewhere else. I see the edge of the bullet at the entry of the wound in his chest. I smile, watching it slowly being pushed out.
Taken By Choice (Taken Trilogy Book 3) Page 30