Walls surround me on every side. Above, below, there is no escape. And it’s wildly hot. So hot, my fingertips feel blistered from touching the metal several hours ago. Maybe they are, I can’t exactly see.
There’s only miles and miles of darkness; endless metal, smooth in every direction, maybe without corners, maybe not.
I can’t tell anymore. I don’t know how much time has passed. I made it all the way to the vineyards in White Cliffs before the vanishing tech had worn off. With the teleporter ring, I’d escaped scrape after scrape, always landing in an unknown city.
I could figure out my new location pretty fast. I mean, I have the entire Association memorized, and whenever I used the ring, I always had the image of Vi in my head. I liked to think my destination had something to do with her.
The first time I teleported, back in early July, I landed on the beach. Violet loved the beach. I didn’t know if she was on a similar beach at the time, but that’s what I imagined.
That way, our separation didn’t hurt so much. That way, my heart didn’t feel like a fish out of water, flopping and useless.
The teleporter ring ran out of juice by August. Who knew that could happen? Well, me now, I guess.
I’d flung the ring at the approaching guard in Baybridge, nailing him in the left eye. That’s how I’d made it out of that alley. Seemed everyone in the whole blasted Association was looking for me.
I spent the fall on the run, moving from one Midwestern city to another. No one would hire me—my skin held too much sun, and that called everything about me into question. Then officers/guards/patrols would be summoned, and my picture would come up on every screen.
Forcing me to run again.
Sure, I relied on my network of Insiders every step of the way. I knew the hideouts. I knew most of the leaders, if only by name or picture. They certainly all knew me.
My hair went from black to blond to brown and back. An Insider in Northepointe provided me with eye enhancements in October. I got a work permit. I shoveled snow for months.
And I hate being cold. But the bulky suits—and hats—kept me off the radar. It’s my mouth that always puts me back on it.
I choke inside the capsule. There’s not enough air. They know it; they come fill it every few hours.
How long has it been? I don’t know. I take another breath, but I can’t tell if it’s filled with oxygen or only my own exhalations.
There’s only darkness—and the memories inside my own head.
I don’t like remembering. It makes me feel weak, like I should’ve done something different—like I could’ve done something different, if only I had been stronger. Better.
Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.
I’ve been buried alive. I try not to think it, but the horror is always there.
The capsule is so permanent.
The darkness is so heavy.
It’d be so easy to die.
My eyes are already closed. My body is already in the tomb. My girl is already gone.
At the thought of Vi, I force another breath through my body. Her face, fair and fierce, floats in the recesses of my mind.
I can’t give up on her. On us. She’s sustained me through difficult situations before, maybe she will this time too.
I can’t feel my feet now. Or my fingers—even the painful, blistered ones. I slump against the metal behind me. Hot, burning threads snake down my back, but I can’t move. Don’t even have the energy to whimper.
I’m dying, I think. They’ve won.
Pure, unadulterated fury accompanies that thought. I thrash against the darkness, but I can’t clear it away. My eyes are open; my voice screams.
“They will not win!” I yell so loud my throat rips. “You will not win!”
Inside my metal prison, I’m met with only an echo. No one comes. No one comes. No one comes.
There is no rescue from this hell.
* * * I clawed at something that had been put over my eyes. My heart pounded in my throat; I swung my free arm to feel the space around me, and I made contact with a soft body.
“Jag, it’s Indy.”
My head throbbed. I blinked, trying to see. Indistinct shapes hovered in the room; the lights were too dim to really see who was there.
The light meant I was not in the capsule. I inhaled. Oxygen existed here.
“Relax, bro,” someone said. My brother.
“Pace.” An endless depth of relief surged through me. “Help me.”
“We’re trying,” he said. “You’re beating us back.”
My leg pulsed with my heartbeat. The skin along my back pulled, as if a thousand little teeth had found a home there. “What happened? Where’s Vi?”
“She’s here,” Pace said. “She just stepped out to get a bite to eat.”
“You’re all busted up,” Indy said. “Pace has been attending to your injuries.”
Little by little, my vision cleared. I felt a bandage on top of my head; my fingers brushed another binding on my thigh. Indy and Pace knelt in front of me, worry etched into their eyes.
“My head hurts,” I complained.
Pace chuckled. “I bet it does. Just a sec. I’ll drug you up again.” He stepped out of the hospital alcove, leaving me alone with Indy.
I couldn’t catalog all the body parts that hurt. “Hey,” I said, looking at Indy and trying not to cry.
She inched closer, one hand held tentatively toward me. When I didn’t punch her in the face, she threaded her fingers through mine. Her chest rose with a deep breath. “I was so scared.”
Those four words said it all. Indy had a whole I-never-get-scared thing going on. And she usually didn’t. I choked back my own fear—my own memories—and gathered her into a hug. Fire erupted along my shoulders where she touched me. I gave a strangled moan.
“Sorry,” she murmured, removing her hands, but not moving away. “Your back is sort of shredded.”
“Explain,” I said.
“Vi’s been in here, bawling for hours.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“She shattered the glass in the lab, thinking it would debilitate the Directors, buy you guys time to get out. Zenn and Raine and everyone escaped, but you were also debilitated. Took a lot of glass in the back. Pace worked on you, picking out shards for hours.”
I felt shredded inside and out. I held Indy tighter, finding comfort in the way she smelled like grass and something sweet. Her touch was tender, familiar.
“I’m sorry,” I said, apologizing for everything. For not knowing where Irvine was. For leaving her behind in the Badlands with a weak promise that we’d talk when I returned. All the things I’d never said, but should’ve.
Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.
