“What do you want?” I demand. My eyes dart between the pair, keeping myself ready for whichever one decides to attack first.
The one on the right holds his hands up to calm me down. “We are Integers. 13 sent us.”
“Where is 13?” I inquire. I need to make sure they are telling the truth.
“Badwater.” The other drone says. “He wanted us to check on you since he hasn't heard from you or about you for days.”
“So, you guys have turned?” I climb down from my perch on the bed and look at them both in the eye. There is a softness behind them, like jumping into water instead of onto the ground.
“Yes. We were one of the first you guys turned.” The one to my left responds as they both show me the burn marks on their necks from the prods. It's still tough to tell everyone apart, but with time, their personalities will develop.
“I'm sorry that I do not remember each of you.” I don't know what else to say.
“It's okay.” The one on the right smiles. “We find it harder to tell each other apart now, as well.”
“It's like in learning how different we are, we realize how alike we are,” the other one adds.
“Exactly!” says the first. “Anyway, is there anything you would like us to tell 13?
I am so caught up with this exchange that I almost forget my original intention. “I need you guys to get me out of here. I have to get into the city.”
“Okay,” they say in unison.
I'm surprised by the quick response, but then I remember that they see me as their superior. They aren't going to question my orders. “Take me out of here like a prisoner. Lead me out of the stadium through the area with the least amount of activity. I can't be seen by anyone who would be suspicious of my being out of my room.”
“We can take him through the armory,” the one on the right says to the one on the left.
“There shouldn't be anyone there,” the second one agrees. “Come with us.”
The drones open my door and look both ways into the hallway before they lead me out. Each one holds one of my arms in theirs. They take me in the opposite direction than I am used to going down my hallway. It all feels backward to me because, for some reason, I thought there was nothing this way. I had walked down before and found myself facing a long dark corridor. I never went further than that.
Today, however, we dive deep into the darkness. After a few dozen feet, my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness around me. I can make out the faint outlines of cracks in the concrete on the walls.
“Where are we?” I whisper.
“Under the field,” one of them responds. I'm still not sure which.
It makes sense that we are under the field. It's the only place I can imagine where a corridor would exist that is this long. I never imagined that there was much on the other side of the stadium from where I was staying.
After a few more steps, I begin to make out a small birth of light at the end of this tunnel. A perfect interpretation of what it was like to turn from a drone to my current woke form—stepping out of the darkness and into the light.
When we arrive on the other side, the drones lead me through a few more hallways before pushing me through a set of double doors. We pass a couple of scientists along the way, but they all seem content with their thoughts and pay me no mind.
“There is a small door next to the big one at the other end of this armory. That should spit you out at the back of the stadium,” one drone says as the other keeps watch at the double doors.
“Okay. Tell whoever you need to that I'm still in my room, and tell 13 to keep doing what he's been doing.” I turn to see a massive space before me. It rivals the size of the field in the stadium.
A type of weapon or vehicle occupies almost every inch of this space. There are about a dozen Flyz and twice as many roll pods. They look ready for a war, if one ever comes. Long ago, people must have used this area to house other transports for whatever occurred here in the past.
The jog to the end of the armory takes me about a minute. I look up at the big door, which must be at least fifty feet wide and thirty feet high. Whatever needed to fit through there must have been enormous. I hustle to the end of the big door and find myself face to face with a normal sized door. I look back, but the drones are gone.
Pushing the door open, the low light of dusk greets my face. I inch myself along the stadium's outside wall, looking for the right moment to break off and sprint to the city. Luck is on my side as the clouds are low tonight. The cold blanket engulfs the drones on watch at the top of the stadium. With their vision obscured, I'm pretty sure they can't see me. Still, I proceed with caution.
I spot a large heap of rubble ahead of me and know that this would be an excellent place to run to because of the cover it would give me. I look up to make sure the clouds are still shielding me, and with a push off the wall, I run to the heap of concrete and steel.
After checking to make sure that I wasn't followed, I push a little deeper into the city before I catch my bearings. This is a part of
