Escape from Harrizel (47 page)

Focuses
.

And slows…

My gun is in my hands, poised just as a
scientist flies past me, set to dive into Pratt. I find the center
of his head—his temple—and pull my finger. The Dofinike drops to
the ground in a thud at Pratt’s feet. Something’s coming from my
side. Shifting, I find the center of a pair of glaring eyes, set to
destroy me. Pulling the trigger again and then again, down in the
center of his chest, the scientist falls in a motionless heap. One
tries to grab me from the wall above but before I even find the
center of his eyes, Sampson yanks him to the ground, immobilizing
him.

Heart racing, I glance around.

Most of the Rogues take the scientists down
with hand-to-hand combat and their personal weapons. The guns have
been knocked from their hands or maybe they’re already out of ammo.
Another movement to my right. Before the scientist has a chance to
knock me back, his yellow eyes come into view. Focusing on the
patch of scales between them, I release the trigger. He falls at my
feet but then, another one is trying to pull the girl from the
table.

“Get away from her!” I scream at the top of
my lungs.

A scientist dives past Reid, jumps over Able
and soars to knock me down. Again, slow motion takes over. It’s
like time is stilling before me, playing out in loud, sluggish
seconds so I can
see
better,
hear
better. Everything
comes to me with clarity and total consciousness, so that I always
know what to do seconds before I do it.

Just as the custard coat flies for me, I
dive to the side, allowing him to land in my previous spot. Already
anticipating his location, I unload bullets into his head until he
falls, quickly sweeping my view back to the girl on the table.

“Away!” I scream, moving through the beds
around her, aimed and ready.

Something’s shifted.

In me.

I’m the last person here expected to even
fire their gun and now, I won’t part with it. I
can’t
. All I
want to do is tear down this lab. Tear it to pieces. Something has
exploded inside me, something ignited by the sight of all the girls
in here. All the various stages of possible life destroyed. Keeping
the bile from overflowing at the thought of such waste, I move
forward, past the few remaining duels, searching. There’s got to be
at least one.

At least
one
.

“Any still alive?” I lower my gun, only to
dart in and out of the tables.

Scanning each set of eyes, hope dwindles.
They’re all the same—open but glazed over, cloudy. Gone. Biting
back the urge to kill as many Vermix as I can, I keep going, keep
searching. At least one. There’s got to be at least
one
. I’m
not sure how many beds I’ve passed but other than the different
lengths into their pregnancies, they’re all in the same exact
state.

“Fallon!” Reid calls.

The sound of my name forces me to look up.
When I do, I find Sampson and Jothkore standing ahead, amongst a
pile of fallen scientists. The Vermix moan on the ground where they
lay injured. A few yelp while the quieter ones try to pull
themselves away unnoticed. Jothkore’s quick to trash that thought,
dragging them back to the center with the others.

“Are you okay?” Reid joins my side, cupping
the back of my head and shifting me toward him.

“Fine.”

“We secure?” he gestures to Jothkore who’s
dragging a fleeing scientist back to their heap of custard
coats.

Sampson nods. “And your end?”

“
Tying
things up as we speak. But we
need to get moving.”

“What’s the time check?” I ask.

“Three minutes,” Sampson exhales, glancing
back to the rest of the Rogues still working on binding the
remaining scientists. Once they’re locked back to back—like they
did with Jeb and Ergiloff—the Clansmen drag the pairs out, tossing
them in the same sleeping pile of Vermix in the corner with Tetlak
and the others. “We’ll need a few to stay, watch over,” he’s
talking to Reid now, “I’m not familiar with the dosage so the time
may be off.”

“How many? And who?”

“Three or four,” Sampson shrugs, “maybe Moss
and Cramp. Werzo… Booker.”

“And yours?” Reid gestures to Sampson’s
loot. “Vix fixing them?”

No sooner does he ask than Vix slides past,
the same small device she’d pulled off the wall from inside the
weapons room. We all watch as she goes to each bound scientist and
presses the cylinder part of the object to his or her throat. They
squirm for a second, fighting the injection. After a few futile
attempts at ripping through their restraints, they pause, slumping
over in exhausted sleep.

“What is that?” I ask.

“It’s Pillypees,” Reid answers first, “sleep
potion. Knocks you out. Two minutes,” he looks to Sampson. “Anyone
else staying here?”

“I think the four should do it. Have Irie
check in from time to time and we’ll be fine.”

Reid nods, jetting back to his Rogues and
we’re on his heels. Once we reach them, Reid pauses to take count
of his Clansmen.

“Everyone still breathing?”

“Yeah Boss…” most exhale through heated
breaths.

“Yeah Rox,” someone pants.

“You got it Boss,” someone else gulps,
wiping his arm over his brow.

“Good,” Reid looks around his Clan, “Moss,
Cramp, Werzo, Booker—you’re skipping all the drama downstairs. Need
you to stay here, keep an eye on things so I don’t have to worry.
I’ll send Irie to check in but I’m putting my trust in you,” he
narrows his eyes. “Booker, can I count on you?”

An ebony skinned mountain with arms the size
of tree trunks steps forward, answering for his team. “Yes, Rox,
you can count on us.”

Reid nods at the four of them. “Good.
Alright,” he strengthens the volume and command of his voice, “this
is it. Time to go. We’ll be heading down in two evibolas. When we
hit the Auditorium, surround it. I want everyone in a tight circle
around the trunk. I want them in a good spot to hear Sampson.
Rogues?”

“Rox!” they roar in unison.

“Let’s MOVE!” he commands, the lot of us
sprinting from the labs and back for the evibolas. We’re running
down the hall, leaving the four Rogues behind with the sleeping
Vermix as we make our way to the arches that’ll take us back
downstairs. Reaching them, we split into even groups.

I get in behind Reid, Tucker, Able and his
entire division, Rooney and Drenz following behind. Sampson’s on
last and suddenly we’re riding it down to the Auditorium. My heart
races. What if they don’t believe us? We have no idea where the
memories are and haven’t even started looking. Can we force
everyone to listen to us, or it just a transfer of oppression?

There’s no time to consider the what-ifs.
It’s happening regardless so the power is in the present. We’ll get
through this. Once they believe us, once we tell them what we know,
and that for the moment, the Castle’s been freed, they’ll want to
fight back. They’ll
have
to. Especially if they know what
the Vermix have been doing to us.

Just as I feel the evibola’s moving hum
shift to stop, the drumming in my chest intensifies.

“Here we go…” Able inhales.

We step into the darkened room, a thicket of
bodies moving around the trunk, waiting for Reminders to begin. The
Rogues spread out, flattening themselves along the shadowed walls,
keeping their rifles hidden by their sides. Following behind
Rooney, I keep my head down, the gun low on my right hip. None of
the others—outside our group—cling to the walls right now. They
know what time it is, that Jeb will request them to move closer
like he does every night.

Glancing up, I search for the other Rogues,
Jothkore and Vix but I can’t find them. Are they in place already?
And where is Sampson? When will he take the stage and explain the
situation? Before I have time to wonder, a scream breaks through
the room, shattering the low hum of shallow commotion. Another
scream echoes, everyone stilling to an eerie halt.

A third scream and suddenly, the Rogues have
their guns drawn, pointed and aimed among the thick mass, herding
them back. Cries of panic erupt, a loud shuffle from the inner
core, those closest to the trunk. They’re too far in to know what’s
happening.

“DON’T MOVE! JUST DON’T MOVE!” Rooney barks
at a massive Arrival who moves closer to investigate. But with the
Carpenter’s threatening warning and the black rifle in his face,
the Arrival stumbles backward, into the patch of bodies screaming
in terror behind him. “DON’T MOVE!”

At the same time, all the Rogues inch
forward, weapons drawn and aimed. I’m not sure what to look at.
What to focus on. The Rogues back here with me, holding the line,
holding everyone in or the frightened herd ahead, fear in their
eyes at their newest enemy—us.

“Just hang back and stay calm,” Able offers
as he shifts forward, slow step by slow step. His body shakes as he
moves, a lump crawling down his throat. But he doesn’t stop. The
other Rogues follow, inching closer, tightening the massive herd
into each other. Able exhales, keeping his voice strong,
commanding. “We’re not here to harm you.”

Following in suit, I move closer, keeping
aim on nothing, on no one in particular, just the thought that
there’s nothing more to fire at. Putting the rifle safety back on
the rifle, I glance at the glowing trunk in the midst of bodies
ahead. As soon as my eyes drift to it, Sampson leaps up, back in
his human form, a hoard of babeebs over him. With so many, it’s
like a small sun glows atop his head, illuminating the spotlight he
needs.

“We ask for your patience, please and your
cooperation,” Sampson’s smooth words cut through the panic.
Everyone turns inward, away from the ring of weapons surrounding
them and to the man with a velvety reassurance. When he sees he has
the room’s attention, he offers the slightest smile, a peace
offering before the words. “Those armed are not here to hurt you.
They are here to
help
you.”

With this, a little more tension is
released. The room still stands rigid but with each soothing word
from the mediator, the fear abates and is replaced instead with
comfort. The comfort they need right now.

“
I
want to help you,” Sampson goes
on, grasping at their need for him to save them, “but you must
listen and you must listen well. Make no mistake, what I’m about to
share with you
is
the truth. Something I, along with
everyone armed here, risked their life to have you know.” Sampson
takes a breath, surveying the silent mass staring at him in stunned
awe. “There was no war.”

His four words echo throughout the
Auditorium, their shadows lingering into soft layers that
eventually die off. But for a few seconds, that’s all I can
hear—all anyone can hear—repeating over and over.

There was no war.

It’s like he’s unlocked it. Whatever it is
that’s needed to be unlocked, the freedom of saying what we all
knew to be the truth. Thought over and over again, yes, but never
uttered aloud. And definitely not here, in the middle of the entire
Castle with everyone listening. With Sampson’s admittance, it’s
like there’s been a shift, like everyone’s fear of having to deny
the obvious rises, leaving them free to consider the
alternative—were we brought here against our will?

“Not true!” someone suddenly yells, rattling
the newfound ease.

“He’s lying!” another voice pops up from the
opposite side of the trunk. Sampson glances about, locating the
hecklers.

“I do
not
lie and it’d be wise of you
to hold your tongue.”

“Where’s Jeb?” another voice calls out.
“What have you done with him?”

“Please,” Sampson lowers his hands palms
down, requesting silence. “I’m trying to help you. You have no
idea—”

“He killed Jeb!” someone yells across the
way, stirring the panic again. “He’s going to kill
us
!”

I glance to Reid who’s already nodding down
the line of Rogues. They need this taken care of now. Nipped in the
butt as soon as possible, but it’s coming from multiple people.
These are either the newest Arrivals or the ones who’ve just lost
it. Who are too scared to admit to anything that might rob them of
their security.

“I repeat, we are here to
help
you,”
Sampson’s voice, though calm, grows slightly tenser.

“Why the guns?” a new voice pops through the
crowd.

Geez—how many are there?

Before I know what I’m doing, I lower my
rifle to my right side and, in a tone of disdain, yell at the top
of my lungs, “Are you all
stupid
? Can’t you see what’s
happening? Right in front of you?”

The focus suddenly shifts to me, Rooney and
Able who stiffen at the new sea of eyes pouring into us. Someone
goes to grab my elbow, whispering my name to stop.

But I don’t.

“Sampson is here to free you from the
Vermix. You know Beshib… Tetlak… those itching to get us upstairs
so they can ‘cure’ us? They’re
killing
us,” I strain my
voice for all to hear, “’infected’ by ‘infected’. List by list.
We’re not coming back down but you don’t know that because of the
pills. Because they erase everyone you knew on the list. And if you
don’t wake up
now
, it’ll happen to you too.”

“Fallon,” Sampson’s smooth voice calls for
me, his hand extended, “why don’t you join me up here? It was you,
after all, who found the lost.”

A loud curse and I glance to Reid on my
left. He’s exhaling tightly, definitely not happy about this. This
is
not
how he saw it playing out. Stepping toward the
massive crowd, he races in front of me.

“Move!” Reid barks, his rifle set and aimed,
moving from target to target as a path clears for us. He doesn’t
need to say anything else—people scatter as quickly as possible,
rounding off to the side to make room for us, but Reid still keeps
his rifle at the ready, his focus never wavering. Able, Tucker,
Jace and Chief move right behind me, their guns aimed, protecting
our bubble of space.