“Can I ask you one more thing?” I stop before I step through. “I’ve been having visions when I sleep. I don’t know what those are.”
She tilts her head. “Did you not have those before?”
“No. Some scare me, and all show me something that hasn’t happened,” I tell her.
“Those are called dreams. It’s just your subconscious speaking to you. They are harmless.” She smiles as she pushes me into the hallway and closes the door behind me. I stand outside, looking at the three possible hallways that could lead me back to my room. Paz kept me so distracted that I didn't notice how we got here.
Right before I head down the more extended hallway, I see a couple of scientists turn the corner and think better of that choice. I turn and head in the opposite direction. This route weaves and turns, but it remains the original hallway. There are a few large metal doors, but they are all locked shut. After a few more turns, I step out into a giant open room. It reminds me of the massive field I landed on when I first arrived here. This area is not as desolate and gloomy. Hundreds of drones litter the vast room.
“Traitor!” A shout behind me deafens my ears. Before I turn, the hands attached to the voice push me to the ground. I catch my fall and spring back to my feet, facing my assaulter.
I ball my hands up, ready to defend myself. In my peripheral, I see that the commotion has caught the rest of the drones' attention. They are all walking toward me. I can't fight back; they'd tear me to pieces.
The fist of the drone in front of me connects with my jaw. Pain sears through my head, aided by the pre-existing bruises from the fight at KJ's house. The second punch knocks me to the ground. I'm not sure if it came from the same drone or a different one. I pick myself up, but before I regain my balance, a foot connects with the side of my knee. I place my hand on the ground to catch myself. Another drone's foot kicks into the side of my stomach, and a punch hits my forehead above my left eye. The impacts fold me over to the floor. I don't know how much more I can handle. With every drone wanting to get in their hit, I'm not sure I'll make it to the last one.
CHAPTER VII
“Enough!” A booming voice echoes above the crowd around me. From the corner of my eye, I see 13 running toward me. The rest of the drones step back, respecting the command of their leader. He reaches me and extends his hand to help me up.
I look at him but don't take his hand. He pulls it back, understanding my intent. With the last bit of energy I have, I pull myself up and stand next to 13. “Thank you.”
“80 is one of us.” He speaks to the crowd. His audience is attentive, with all eyes on him. It reminds me of one of the dreams I had back in the cell at the compound. 13 continues, “He was shot in the eye while protecting a valuable asset. They must have deemed him worthy if they kept him around and brought him here. You will respect him as your own. Understood?”
It's a command, not a question. In unison, the drones stomp their right feet in compliance. The thunder reverberates over the room. Before it dissipates, the drones disperse and head back to their activities.
“Come with me.” 13 walks back into the hallway from which I came. I follow as best I can, keeping my winces to a minimum. He's already changed a lot. The 13 I first met would have let the drones beat me to death. A little way down the hall, he enters one of the rooms with the large metal doors. I remember trying the handle to this one, and it was locked when I first walked by.
I follow him in. “Is this your room?”
“Yes,” he responds. “Close the door.”
I look around—his room is at least three times bigger than mine. He has his bed in the back right corner, next to the door that holds the bathroom. On the other side are a chair and a desk facing a wall with four monitors. Plastic documents litter the desk, but the monitors draw my attention. One of them displays the big room I was just in, which must have been how 13 found me. The other three show different parts of the exterior of the compound. Not much activity graces those screens. I turn toward him. “What do those show?”
He doesn't look at me. When he finally turns, his face has an innocence to it that seems rooted in pain. “What is happening to me?”
I take a seat in the chair next to the desk, and he sits on his bed. Any questions I have will have to wait. I'm not ready for this talk, but I don't have much choice. Before I start, he disappears into the bathroom and comes back out with a wet towel. He tosses it to me as he sits back on his bed. I take it and wipe the drying blood from my face. I then fold the cool towel up and place it at my ribs where one of the drone's kicks landed.
Over the next few hours, I tell 13 everything. I navigate my explanations with care, but I don't leave anything out. I explain that what he is going through is what I went through, becoming more human and experiencing more emotions. I tell him that it will worsen, but the struggle will pay off when he starts to see the beauty around him. Next, I detail the compound where I came from and the scientists' plans for the end of the world. I
