I kiss her and pull her into my arms. Her hair caresses my cheek. I know that when I let go, I have to run. “I'm going to try to stop them from killing themselves.”
The second I pull away, I don't look back; I just run. The clouds have gotten lower to form a fog around the city again. I pass a few outsiders as I sprint, hoping that they are at the front of the line, but the sounds I hear coming from the stadium tell me that they are stragglers.
Screams and gunshots echo off the buildings. The battle has started. Soon, I pass some of the more sensible outsiders that have stayed back to save themselves but offer moral support. I rush over to a group of three, all much older.
“Where can I find Martha?” I shout at the group, hoping that KJ's mom is not with those already fighting. They startle and scatter away. I chase after the slowest one and catch him.
“Please don't kill me,” he stammers out.
I'm shocked. I wouldn't even consider it. “I won't. I promise. I need to find Martha.”
He points in the direction of the loudest sounds, right at the stadium. “She's at the front.”
I let go of him. “Try to get as many of your people to fall back as possible. They don't stand a chance.”
He salutes me and heads off in the opposite direction of where I'm headed. Every outsider I pass, I order to fall back. Most oblige, but some continue to push their fight forward. After a few more yards, I start seeing dozens of injured and dead outsiders. It appears as though they were dragged to this location from the fight. This is much different from what they taught us as drones. The scientists told us to leave the dead and injured where they lay until we won the battle. This is much more humane.
The few moans of pain I hear are faint compared to the yelling and the guns' amplified sound. I tiptoe around the bodies, trying to respect them as much as I can. My heart aches for the unnecessary loss of life. This is my fault. I should have never said anything to KJ's mom.
I'm about to clear the bodies when a hand grabs my ankle. My heart jumps in my throat, and my stomach feels exposed. I scream with fear and kick my foot loose. When I look down, the hand grasping at me belongs to a bloodied body clinging to her last breaths of life. She lies in a pool of her own draining life. Maybe a minute left, if she is lucky.
Her hand continues grasping for me, so I kneel to get a better look. The hair that isn't blood-soaked is blonde, and her face has features similar to… “Martha?”
She tries to smile with what little energy remains. Her hand grabs my wrist and pulls me down closer to her. I need to help her. I look around for anything that I can use. She drops the handgun in her other hand and, with it, tugs harder. She wants to say something, so I lean in closer.
“Protect my girls,” she whimpers. Her hand lets go and falls to her side.
I jump behind her and scoop her up. If she's not looked at right away, she won't make it. I speed back into the city, looking for anyone. “Help!”
Her body is limp in my arms, but I can still hear her gasp for air every few seconds. Her blood runs down my arms and soaks my shirt. “Somebody, please!”
The breathing slows further. She's not going to make it. I stop and find a flat spot on the ground to set her body. She looks at me, and I brush away the matted hair from her eyes. I grab her hand, and when I look back into her eyes, all I see is emptiness. She's gone.
Tears pour from my eyes as I place her lifeless hand up to my cheek. I hurt for KJ. I hurt for her sisters. This didn't have to happen, and I'm sickened knowing that I am the reason for it. How am I supposed to tell KJ?
I place Martha's hand down by her side and close her eyes. At this point, the outsiders that have been fighting are at the point of no return. There is nothing I can do or say that will save them.
My feet lead me away from the battle and toward a side entrance to the stadium. I don't have it in me to try to conceal myself. As I'm about to reach the entrance, a giant lumbering body charges toward me. It's Farouk.
He lifts me and pushes me against the wall. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
“No.” I grab his arms and pull them off of me. He's stronger than he looks, and built like a brick wall. The man lets me go, and I fall to one knee.
“I don't think anyone knows that you weren't in your room. So, if anyone asks, I'll tell them I got you.” I can't tell if he's upset that I left my room. “This isn't good.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He doesn't look at me, just stares off toward the sounds of the battle waging at the entrance to the stadium. He's too preoccupied to notice the blood on my hands or the little I rubbed off on him when I pushed his arms off. “She will retaliate.”
“Lucie?” I stand next to him, joining him in my stare.
“Yes. And it won't be good. They completed the bunker yesterday. She doesn't need them anymore, and with the Ragnarok coming, she'll justify any deaths.” Despite his hardened shell, Farouk does care about others. The pain in his voice is heartbreaking.
“Is there anything we can do?” I already know the answer, but I'm
