“Not for them.” He grabs me by the shoulders and looks me in the eye. “You need to go tell 13 and the other Integers to be ready at a moment's notice. We might have to leave without much preparation. I'm going to see what information I can get out of Lucie.”
He walks off, leaving me in the low-lying clouds. My body shivers as my other senses have gone numb. This is my fault. I should have never told Martha about the Ragnarok. I put KJ and her family in danger, and I'm responsible for every outsider's death happening before me.
The sounds of gunfire and screams pierce through the clouds and into my head. The focus returns to my eyes, and my legs start to move. Though my heart tells me I should make sure KJ is safe, my mind tells me to do as Farouk said and go to Badwater to talk to 13 and the drones. I'm also not sure yet how to tell KJ about her mother. I'll go to her tomorrow.
The walk to Badwater takes me away from the battle. I can't tell if the sounds are getting fainter because of my increasing distance or if the drones have secured victory. The numbness in my body persists as my feet carry me to the edge of Badwater.
Three Integers approach me, but their voices are garbled hums. I only have one thing on my agenda. “Take me to 13.”
They don't question me and guide me to the front of the building that had become the center of our turning operation. There are about a dozen other Integers gathered outside. They group up next to me as one of them runs to the building to fetch 13.
Some of them are seeing me for the first time in their new woke state, and it's making me uncomfortable. It's a childish adoration akin to that which Pocket has for me, but it's odd coming from them.
“80!” 13 steps through the doorway with a big smile on his face. He puts his arm around my shoulder with a playful demeanor. “Where have you been?”
I faint a smile. “It's complicated.”
He looks at my hands. Martha's blood still covers them. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.” I brush off his questions.
“Fair enough.” He peels off and joins the group of Integers, which has grown to about twenty. They all look at me with anticipation.
Their eyes bore holes into my body. I look around at them. Each one is eager to do as I say. I'm not sure of what I'm supposed to tell them, so I let the words roll out uninhibited.
“Each one of you has embarked on a new journey. A journey of free-thinking and choice. A journey where your fate has not been decided for you. Some of you have just started. Some are a little further along. But you all have a choice on where you end up. You are now finally understanding what life is, at a time when it might be too late. We have woken you to this life to help us fight to keep it. Some wish to destroy it, for they believe that it is the only option they have. This includes many here at this bunker. It's why we were created in the first place. To be the defense against those who might try to stop them.
“Soon, we will all be leaving to go to the compound in Egypt, to do what we can to stop them from destroying the world and every living thing on it. You have a choice to come with us and fight or go off on your own, but I want you all to be ready at a moment's notice.” I scan my audience. Every one of them hangs on each of my words.
A voice speaks up from the back. “Why don't we try to stop them here?”
“Care to answer this, 13?” I motion toward him.
He steps forward, and every Integer turns their attention to him. “This bunker is an arm to their operation. If you cut off an arm, the enemy can still fight. We must cut off the head.”
The Integers mumble in agreement. 13 looks at me, and I nod. He looks back at the crowd. “Dismissed!”
I turn and walk toward the edge of Badwater, and 13 joins me. I get more candid with him. “Be sure they are ready soon. We might have to leave as early as a few days from now. Some outsiders attacked the bunker, and Farouk thinks that Lucie will retaliate. He wants to leave during that chaos.”
“Were the outsiders able to do any damage?” He asks.
“I didn't see, but it sounded like a massacre.” I sigh. “They never stood a chance.”
“No.” He looks at me with genuine concern. “What about your girl?”
“She's fine, but her mother didn't make it.” Saying those words hits hard. A lump builds in my chest, and I fight to keep tears from falling in front of 13.
He reads my body language and stops. “I'll have the Integers ready. You do what you need to do.”
“Thank you.” The first tear slips down my cheek.
13 squeezes my shoulder and then runs back into Badwater. My eyes break open as I turn and walk back to my room. The weight of the dead outsiders, the loss of KJ's mom, and the guilt of knowing that I am responsible for all this have broken through.
The light breeze that has accompanied these low clouds cools my face where the tears streak down. These feelings of pain and sadness are not a welcome addition to this new woke life. When I was a drone, death was nothing more than a lifeless body occupying space, discarded like a used protein pouch. I look at my hands and see the blood-stained fingers. It's Martha's blood and the blood of the dozens of other lives that I took when I was no more than a drone. Though the color will wash
