“Hey,” I greet her as nice and normal as possible. She can’t know that I know she’s the traitor. Our safety may depend on it.
“Hey, how are you guys?” she asks nicely. I can’t believe this girl is an imposter. She’s so believable.
“My shooting sucks today. On a scale of shooting like a putz to shooting like Lyncoln…I am pretty much a putz,” Oliver says with a laugh as he looks at his target.
She giggles, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
He pretends to be offended and I laugh. It’s hard to carry on like this when I know she’s a dirty traitor. Does she want to hurt either of the men in my life? I actually like her. Or liked her. It just doesn’t seem like she is capable of doing this.
Why is she doing this?
We shoot around for a bit and I find it odd that Isabella has her last two bullets off of what would otherwise be perfect precision and accuracy. This is what Oliver is talking about. Something isn’t right.
As we take a break to watch Oliver shoot again, I try to talk to her and ask her about our big tests yesterday in an effort to treat her like I normally would. We talk back and forth and I just keep reminding myself that any minute now she will be arrested and we will all be safe. Henry is now just two ranges down, staying close and trying to help me feel safe and stay calm.
Isabella moves to put her hand on Oliver’s arm. “Hey, I have a solo sim in ten. Walk me down?” she asks sweetly. I feel relieved when she puts her own gun down. These guns aren’t real, but they look real, and that was enough to mess with my mind given the circumstances.
“Absolutely,” Oliver responds with a smile as he usually would when she asks for something. She turns to leave and Oliver and I exchange a look.
I mouth to him, “Be careful.”
He nods.
As soon as they are out of sight, I go straight to Henry to tell him what happened. He talks to his guards while I quickly go in search of Lyncoln. I tell Jamie that I need to find him immediately. He comes down the hallway less than two minutes later like he knew I was looking for him. I’m relieved he isn’t wherever Isabella is.
“I was watching you the whole time. What is it?” he asks, looking me over from head to toe worried. His hands naturally land on my hips as he waits for me to tell him what’s up.
“Isabella asked Oliver to walk her to her sim. I know it seems completely normal but I have a bad feeling about it,” I explain. “We need to get him away from her. He isn’t supposed to be with her. She should have already been arrested by now.” My voice sounds as frustrated as I feel.
He nods, “I know. I’ll talk to Taggert.”
He turns but I grab his arm and pull him back towards me. He looks at me confused.
“Not you,” I say stubbornly.
“What?” His hands return to my hips.
“Don’t go down there. Stay with me,” I plead as I hold onto him tight. “Please. I have dreamt this dream a hundred times, a hundred different ways. I need you safe today.”
He smiles at me affectionately and reaches to put my hair behind my ear before his hand returns to my hip. “I wasn’t going to go anyway, sweetheart. I’m staying here to help protect the candidates. I love you even more for caring though.”
Holy crap, did he just say he loved me??
He turns and beckons to his guard standing a few yards back and tells him something briefly before the guard quickly talks into his device and walks down the hallway.
Before I can say anything else, Henry and Knox enter the hallway from the range with Christopher not far behind. My hand is still on Lyncoln’s arm and his hands are still at my hips. I feel a bit guilty, but I don’t let go. I can’t help but wonder if Lyncoln would run into danger if I don’t hang on to him for dear life.
I see a flash of jealousy in Henry’s eyes, but he smiles at me anyway. It’s not his usual smile though because his dimples don’t show. I know immediately that something else is wrong because he and Knox both don’t look happy.
“Hey, have you seen Attie? She was supposed to be back from her sim ten minutes ago and isn’t at the range,” Knox asks me with his brows furrowed. “I saw Henry talking to his guards and knew something was up.”
“No. I haven’t seen her,” I respond shaking my head and am immediately more worried. Lyncoln and I exchange a concerned glance. Oliver and Attie are both with the traitor? Why, oh why, didn’t they just get her last night in her room when she was sleeping? Who cares if she has explosives? I thought the third floor at DIA was supposed to be cleared for just this. This whole situation is going from bad to worse.
“Want me to head down?” Christopher asks Lyncoln. “Check it out? Make it look like I’m waiting for a sim?” He obviously knows what’s going on. Which doesn’t surprise me since he is always in those extra meetings with Henry and Lyncoln. Though I don’t know his exact rank, I know it isn’t as high as Lyncoln’s, but it isn’t low either.
Lyncoln shakes his head no. “Wait a minute. They should’ve already moved. Thanks though.”
Just then, Taggert and five men in tow round the corner quickly and see us standing there. Not even caring who is in the vicinity, Taggert blurts out, “She has been apprehended.”
That was quick.
But before I can take a sigh of relief, I see that he doesn’t look happy.
“But?” I ask.
“But Oliver is missing. He was not with her, nor is he anywhere on the third floor,” he explains.
I know in my gut something has gone horribly wrong. “So is Attie,” I say angrily and glare at him.
It has only taken five minutes or less for this whole situation to go to hell in a handbasket.
****
The next five minutes pass like years. Most of the candidates are rushed back to Mile High with no reason as to why. Lyncoln and Henry try to get me to go, but I strongly decline. Oliver is missing. Attie is missing. I won’t leave until I know where they are.
As the guards are going floor by floor, I can’t help but wonder how they could’ve just disappeared. Don’t they have surveillance for this? As Henry and I walk the same hallway for the hundredth time, we turn to go down another hallway.
“We aren’t even technically allowed here,” Henry says frustrated. “This is the second floor.”
“I know, but I keep thinking about what Oliver said about her taking wrong turns on purpose to explore,” I explain as we get to the end of that hallway and turn around. Probably a dozen guards or so are checking every room on the floor with us. How is it possible that even collectively we still can’t find them?
As I turn, taking the same lap we have taken three times now, I hear a soft sound coming from the door at the end, the one for the stairwell.
“Did you hear that?” I ask, stopping and grabbing Henry’s hand.
I listen again and hear it. I recognize the voice as a panicked Attie.
“What? The stairs were supposed to be closed off,” Henry says, hearing it too. “And cleared already.”
I throw open the door to the stairs and go flying down them to ground level. I hear Henry on my heels and Jamie on his. The sight before me is one I will never forget all the days of my life. My gut clenches and I have a hard time not crying out or puking.
Oliver lays in a pool of blood with a knife stabbed into his chest. Attie is trying to stop the bleeding and is using his ripped shirt to put pressure on and soak up the blood. Both Attie and Oliver are covered in blood and Attie is sobbing, which is the sound I heard from the hall.
“Reagan! Henry!” she says absolutely terrified, “Help! My guard went for help, but it isn’t fast enough. I need a medical team. Now!”
I turn to Henry and squeeze his hand, “Get those guards. Get anyone you can. And hurry.”
He squeezes my hand back and looks me in the eyes as we silently communicate to one another the seriousness of this situation. Henry leaves and I look at Jamie. He gives me the same look. This is bad. Considering the knife to the ch
est and all the blood on the floor, it is apparent that Oliver needs help or he might not make it. I know if anyone can get help here in time, it’s Henry. There is a hospital with medics somewhere here at DIA, so it shouldn’t take them long, right?
“We found him here. Someone told us to take the stairs because the elevator wasn’t working and we found him like this,” Attie says frantically.
Jamie lets out a curse word from behind me.
I kneel down in the blood with Attie. “What can I do, Attie?”
Oliver is rolling his head side to side, barely conscious and looking pale. He has lost so much blood. There is just so much blood. It pours onto the gray cement in an ever expanding pool.
“Me too. What can I do?” Jamie asks, looking bewildered for the first time since I’ve met him.
“Nothing. He needs surgery. He needs a blood transfusion. I can’t remove the knife. It’s too deep. And if it stays lodged in there much longer, he’ll bleed out anyway.” She grabs another piece of his torn shirt as she tries to put pressure on his rib cage, closing the wound around the knife.
“Oliver, stay with me!” I say as I grab ahold of his cheek and his hand while Attie works.
“I don’t have anything with me to use. I need a med kit.” Attie stops a moment to look me in the eyes and that’s when I know Oliver is in even worse shape than I think he is. I haven’t seen Attie look like this before.
Seconds feel like hours as we wait, kneeling in his blood that keeps seeping out of him with there being nothing we can do about it. Keep the knife in, and he bleeds to death. Take the knife out, and he bleeds to death faster.
“Oliver. I need you to stay with me. Please,” I plead and squeeze his hand trying to keep talking to him. “Help is on the way. Just hang in there.”
“Reagan? Attie?” Oliver asks weakly as he comes back to consciousness and spits blood, which runs down his chin. I want to cry out, but I don’t want to scare him so I stuff it down. I tear a piece off my own shirt and use it to gently wipe the blood off his chin.
“I’m here. Stay with me,” I plead and keep pleading as I repeat it. I hear doors slam and loud voices and Jamie yelling directions, and I know help is on the way. He only needs to hang in there a little bit longer.
Just a little longer.
“Can’t,” he coughs, “Tell my mom I love her.”
He spits blood again. I wipe it away like my wiping can somehow magically heal him.
“You’ll tell her. Help is on the way. They’ll be here any second,” I say and feel the tears now streaming down my face. He is giving up. This is not good. Not good at all.
“Thanks, Attie,” he coughs.
“You’re welcome, Oliver,” she says barely looking at him as she’s still working and still panicked.
“Isabella?” He coughs a few weak coughs and looks at me.
“We got her. You did it. You caught the traitor.” I smile through my tears and joke, “Now we know why you’re ranked so high.”
He smiles as much as he can and leans up a little while squeezing my hand with what strength he has left and in-between coughs says, “Well if I can’t win, you better.”
And with that, his eyes close and he bobs his head. He loses consciousness. I can see the life drain from his face like the way his blood pours out of his wound and onto the cold, hard floor.
“His pulse is fading,” Attie says frantically. “I can’t do chest compressions because of the blood. He’ll bleed out quicker.”
Just then the medical team arrives and takes over. At least a half a dozen people immediately begin working around and on Oliver’s body. They are checking his vitals, talking about the knife and its location, and using all sorts of medical terms I have never heard of before.
I don’t want to let go of Oliver’s hand. If I do, I’m not sure I’ll ever see him again. So I stay where I am, watching his pale face while they work.
A woman medic turns to me, “We need to move him and fast, you can let go now, Ms. Scott.”
I don’t move. I don’t want to let go. Oliver isn’t conscious and it isn’t looking good. Their faces tell me it isn’t good.
Unexpectedly, I am lifted up by Jamie’s arms, losing my grip on Oliver’s hand and moved aside. Knox is somehow there and lifts Attie away too as she continues to tell the medical team what has happened and what she has been doing to help him. I reach for her and we hold our bloodied hands together.
They already have an oxygen mask on Oliver and move quickly to get him loaded on a gurney to take him out. It takes less than a minute to get him out of the stairwell once they have him loaded. All that remains is the large red puddle on the floor and the metallic taste of blood in the air.
Henry arrives and Jamie gently passes me off to him. I hold onto him for dear life but keep looking at Attie and holding her hand, wishing more than anything this is all a bad dream or some sort of test.
“Let’s go, Attie. You did everything you could, sweetie. Come with me,” Knox coaxes her.
I give her a tearful hug and they leave. I stand in the stairwell and stare at Oliver’s blood that is everywhere, including all over me. I pull away from Henry and punch the wall with a half scream of frustration. And now there’s blood on the wall too.
“I knew something was wrong,” I sob. “I’ve known something wasn’t right for days.”
“It isn’t your fault, Reagan,” Henry says softly, standing behind me and wrapping me back in his arms. “It isn’t your fault. Let’s go. You did everything you could. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
I just lean against him and cry. I’ll let him take me wherever, but I can’t stop the tears.
Understanding that I’m not going to stop crying any time soon, he gently picks me up and carries me out of DIA. I know Jamie is with us the entire time. I don’t remember the ride back to Mile High, all I remember is the tears as I cried into Henry’s chest and all the questions I have about how it was possible for Isabella to do this.
Chapter 21
Feeling numb, I’m soon sitting in what I assume is Henry’s room while he gives orders to his guards, my guards, and Gertie. I still have Oliver’s blood all over me and a blanket is wrapped around my shoulders. This is a nightmare. At any moment I will wake up. I don’t know as much as Attie about medical things, but I know there was enough blood that Oliver is in bad shape. We were losing him when the medical team arrived. I’m not sure there was much they could even do. The looks on their faces were not encouraging.
“Reagan, honey, I’ll be right back.” Henry is kneeling in front of me although his face seems blurry. I realize it’s because the tears are still just pouring out of my eyes and down my cheeks. My neck and shirt are drenched with them.
He is gone and comes back in less than a minute. I take one look at his face and know what he is about to say. I start sobbing harder if that were possible.
“No. Please, no,” I plead with Henry.
He sits down and pulls me across his lap as I sob harder. “I’m so sorry, Reagan. He’s gone. We lost him.”
“Why?” I choke out. “Why didn’t they just arrest her last night?”
“I don’t know, beautiful, but I do know that she also injured his guard and killed hers in the process. There shouldn’t have been any way that was possible with that much extra personnel and eyes watching. There was a malfunction with the elevators too. They apparently took the elevator to the second floor and then she stuck a shoe in the door to stall it after attacking their guards. Oliver took off for help, and she cornered him in the stairwell. She would have finished him off then, but she heard Attie and her guard from above and took off. She tried to run but we caught her soon after. All of this only took about five minutes or less. We couldn’t find them sooner because they were in a blind spot in the stairwell so we couldn’t see them on the live feeds. By the time they checked all the cameras and watched the footage back to figure out where they were, you had already found them.”
I try to pict
ure Isabella’s guard but can’t. Two people died and one more was injured. For what purpose? How could someone as sweet as Isabella be capable of something so evil? What has happened to her that she would take someone else’s life so easily?
We sit there like that for what seems like hours and I cry more tears than I thought my body had. Sobs rack my body uncontrollably, altering my breathing, and just when I am starting to get myself under control, I hear the door open and close and see Lyncoln. After getting a nod from Henry, he lifts me into his arms and sits down beside Henry, pulling me into his chest. He puts his hands on my face and checks me over from head to toe.
“It’s not my blood.” I choke on the words, holding back more tears. It’s not lost on me that those were the same words he said to me a little more than a week ago.
“I know,” he says softly and just holds me, running a hand through my hair.
As Lyncoln holds me against his chest, his beating heart is the only thing that makes sense. I focus on it instead of Oliver, his last words, and all the blood. Henry grabs my hand and I sit there in the lap of one man, hold the hand of the other, and cry out my soul in-between the men I love.
****
Hours later, Lyncoln leaves and Henry convinces me to take a hot bubble bath. As Gertie helps lower me into a tub bigger than I have ever seen, I realize Henry’s room is much bigger than mine. Not only does he have a huge tub I could almost swim in, but he has a walk-in shower around the corner that is at least three times the size of mine.
“Where am I?” I ask Gertie even though I know exactly where I am. You would think Henry would have had to stay in a room like the rest of us for the duration of the Culling, not here.
The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series) Page 40