Escape from Harrizel (50 page)

Converse kicked off by the front door. My
volleyball jersey slung across my bed. Pink Floyd and The Black
Eyed
Peas posters tacked to the wall and
between them, mom’s old vinyl record player past its prime. My
beat-down Cadillac and the dented locker where I keep my purse
stashed at the restaurant where I waitress. Granny Ruth’s casserole
dishes and the wind chimes clinking against her porch, the brown
shag carpet and the yellow wallpaper she’s refused to change since
the seventies. And her yelling at me.

“Put down that book!”

Books.

My
books.

In the cedar chest at the foot of my bed.
Reading them on a soft bed of grass in the forest behind our
country house. Falling asleep there until Granny Ruth comes looking
for me. She gets so angry. She knows where I am. Where I’ve always
been. Tucked away in that forest—
my
forest.

I remember it all. Everything. Everything
from my life. I remember the way Granny Ruth smelled—a mixture of
soap and lotion, like just coming from the aromatherapy store, even
when she never left the house. I remember the green suede journal
tucked beneath my mattress, fantasies of Han Solo scribbled in the
pages. I remember it all.
Everything
. Including my name.
Francie
.

I’m Francie Fallon.

Tears flood as the sound rings in my head.
Francie. I’m
Francie Fallon
, I repeat to myself again and
again.
Francie Fallon. Francie Fallon
. Now it seems silly I
couldn’t remember something so seemingly obvious. I’m Francie
Fallon, twenty-three years old with no family other than Granny
Ruth.

My eyes shoot open as an insurmountable pain
threatens to explode inside my chest. Clarence said not to focus on
it but now that the door’s open, I can’t look away. From the scene.
From those last few moments when it happened. Walking into her
bedroom and finding her body on the floor, bloodying the shag
carpet I played on so many times before. How long had she been like
that? And what happened?

Anger and fear swelled inside me for only a
moment—because that’s all the time I had. Pain like I’d never felt
before ripped through me, as if something had literally reached in
and pulled my organs loose. And then I was stumbling back, crashing
to the floor, still aghast at the image of her body. And then, just
when the pain began to ebb into numbness and the light to fade, he
was there, calling my name.

Clarence.

Tears gush like a broken faucet. I’m too
livid or depressed or crushed to really understand which emotion is
causing them. I’ve been given back my life only to have it brutally
taken from me at the end.

I can’t be alone right now.

Rushing for the door, I head for Reid’s. I
need to tell him what happened—that Granny Ruth was murdered and if
not for Clarence,
I
would have been as
well. I need to hug him right now, to hold him. Racing for his
room, I pass more sobs and screams. Now they know. Now we
all
know. I knock on Reid’s door.

“It’s Fallon.”

When he opens, my stomach wrenches.
Something’s wrong. Drained of all color, Reid is lost in an
expression of shock that frightens me to the core. What could’ve
caused this? Is he one of the five percent too? Did he see his own
near-death?

“What?” I glance between his eyes, my words
are barely whispers. “What happened?”

Shaking his head, he’s lost somewhere,
desperate confusion sweeping his face.

“I’m engaged.”

It takes me a moment to hear it.

Part of my brain dismisses the word, first
because of pure impossibility. I must’ve misheard. It’s the only
reason. But I replay it again, matching the statement to the
paleness of his cheeks and his utter refusal to look me in the
eye.

I can manage only one word. “Oh.”

Reid shakes his head, “I’m sorry, Fallon. I
just—I can’t.”

Pain courses through me like burning oil,
choking out all my air. I can’t breathe. I need to get somewhere
where I can breathe. I’m not sure what happens next but I’m not at
Reid’s door anymore. I’m flying down the corridor, back toward my
room, trying to keep the tears from gushing down my face.

I reach my room, rush in and collapse on my
bed, diving into the navy rags. I just need to block it out. All of
it. Everything I learned tonight. I’ve lost Granny Ruth, my whole
life and now, in the promise of a new future, the one person I
wanted to keep. Sobbing into the blanket, images of Granny Ruth’s
body lying in a crimson puddle take over. I push them from me,
finding Reid’s sullen face as his two words play over and over
again in my head. My tears dampen the pillow as these interchanging
images carry me off to sleep.

***

“If you’ll please report to the Auditorium.
We’ll begin here shortly.” Sampson’s voice rings overhead, forcing
my eyes open.

I kick my feet out of the blankets and sit
up, running my fingers through my hair. A stray strand sticks to my
cheek but I wipe it clean, inhaling the scent of a new day—the
first one waking up as Francie Fallon. It’s the first day I won’t
have to wonder about who I was because now I know what came before
this—before all of this.

People will be sharing their stories,
describing things to one another and offering details of their
past. I can’t let what happened last night affect what needs to be
done today. Last night was just a bad memory—one I can pocket with
my last day on Earth and never think about again.

Forcing myself from the bed, I head for the
Bathing Bubble like usual but find it mostly empty. People have
either passed through or are still in their bunkers, trying to make
sense of a world stolen from them. I take my time, enjoying the
sensation of hot water against my skin as it washes me clean of
yesterday. Of the take-over. Of the horrors in the laboratories. Of
the final images the vial revealed. And of course, of Reid.

Granny Ruth would know what to do. What to
say. It’d be the exact thing to hear to make sense of the world and
its backwards way of working sometimes. One tear ventures forward,
slipping down my cheek and joins the ocean of water at my feet.
Granny Ruth would
definitely
know what to say. About it all,
everything
that’s happened… even to her. She’d come out with
some one-liner that’d wrap it up in a bow, one that would give me
something to think about for a while.

Except I can’t ask her. Not this time. And
that’s what sears more than anything. Closing my eyes, I summon her
face, drowning in it. Large round red frames over golden spheres
that had a way of looking into you,
through
you. That long
nose and her thickly lipped mouth covered in laugh lines. That
mischievous grin, like she could hear my thoughts, like she already
knew what I was going to ask before I did. But I can’t ask her this
time. What if I could?

This one
, she’d say,
you’re on
your own, kiddo
.

I was prepared as Fallon and ready for it
all, ready to
conquer
it all. But an unsure Francie isn’t
the best thing for the group. I need to do this without Granny Ruth
and I can. I can do it as Fallon. She’d understand. I
know
she would.

I miss you, Granny Ruth.

I push her from my mind only to have Reid
pop in again, an alternate wound to nurse. I close my eyes, trying
to forget it, but his words flash over me.

I just—I can’t
.

I really am alone.

Out of the Bathing Bubble, I’m heading for
the Auditorium when I feel a light bump on my hip. “June Pratt.
Nice to meet you.”

“Francie Fallon,” I bow my head in return,
happy to find a friendly face.

“Francie?” she finds this humorous. “I think
I prefer Fallon.”

“Oh really? And what about you? Don’t think
I’m going to start calling you June—I’m already set on Pratt.”

“You can still call me Pratt.”

“Yeah?” We’re almost to the Courtyard, to
the place we first met a few weeks ago. “Not a fan of June?”

“Well, there’s no point getting used to that
name.”

I stop immediately, turning to her. How is
this possible? She’s so young—she deserves a future, a future other
than this. I want to say something, to comfort her, but I’m not
sure what. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Turns out I didn’t have much of
a life to return to… it’s better this way.”

What happened? During her life and in those
final moments? And how is it automatically better this way?
Reaching out, I squeeze her shoulder. She deserves a hug but I’m
afraid the tears will start flooding and they’ll be no turning them
off. I drop my hand and we continue down the stairs.

“Well… at least I’ll have good company.”

“You too?” she’s surprised. “You’re a five
percent?”

“One of the lucky few.”

“Is Reid?”

Without looking at her, I shake my head.

“Oh… well he’ll probably stay anyway.”

It stings me with hope but I shut it out
quickly. She doesn’t know. What the truth of the matter is. That
he’s built a life with someone else, a life he’ll be given back as
soon as all of this ends. I don’t have the energy—or the stomach—to
tell her so I offer a quick shrug instead.

We reach the Courtyard with the others and
descend into the Auditorium. Sampson and Clarence—both in human
form—stand atop the glowing trunk in the middle of the half empty
room, large pockets of bodies occupying all corners of the room. A
few singles wait, arms crossed and concentrated on the glowing
trunk where Sampson and Clarence chat quietly. But even with the
thick clusters of conversation, there can’t be more than two
hundred people here. Where are the rest? Lingering in the Bathing
Bubble? Or have they not been able to pry themselves from bed?

Pratt’s at my side again, gesturing up a
bit. I follow her aim and find a few of the Rogue Commanders in a
tight circle near the trunk. The rest of the Rogues meander nearby,
talking amongst themselves, with their Scouts and others. Pratt
takes off for their area.

“Fallon,” Able smiles widely as I’m slow to
approach. “Or should I call you…?”

“Fallon’s fine,” Pratt grins, winking at me
before redirecting her attention, “and you, Mr. Able? What do we
call you now?”

“Matthew.”

“No nickname?” I try the name on for size.
He’s just not a Matthew. “No Matt? Matty?”

“
Just
Matthew,” he laughs, “although
with two years under my belt as Able, maybe I’ll just stick with
it.”

“Are you one of the five percent?” Pratt
asks, an undeniable hopefulness in her tone.

Able—or Matthew—shakes his head, “Haven’t
talked to anyone yet who is… wonder how many there are.”

“None of the Rogues?” she gestures behind us
and then to the other Rogue Commanders who’ve started a new thread
of conversation.

“If they are, they haven’t told me,” he
glances between us. “What about you two?”

Pratt and I exchange looks. Able’s
expression changes and just when I’m sure he’s going to ask, Tucker
breaks into the tight circle of Rogue Commanders, followed by
Reid.

My heart stops.

The two head Rogues keep their conversation
going as they join their crew, neither bothering to look around.
Harrison, Jace, Chief and Kelly all offer the proper greetings,
Able doing the same. Reid nods, scanning… then sees me.

Our eyes lock for an intense moment, my
heart about to explode from the surprise in his. But he breaks the
connection instantly, looking down. A pain ignites but I ignore it,
focusing on Sampson and Clarence atop the glowing iridescent trunk.
They end their conversation at the same time, looking out at those
of us here, those of us bothering to show up.

“I know this must be difficult for you,”
Sampson begins, silencing everyone, “I cannot begin to understand
your pain as you have felt it, to know what has been taken from you
by those who wish to seek your harm. But,” and his voice
strengthens, “do believe me when I say, I know the agony of being
separated from the ones you love…” his words trail off for a
moment, the same despair rising in them. He blinks his eyes clean,
finding focus with the half-filled audience, “…So it’s my intent to
have you returned to them. But we can’t do it alone.”

He scans the sparse crowd. “There are more
here than I’d hoped—which is good. But still,” he shakes his head,
“it’s not enough. Not for the force Beshib will be bringing back.
Not for the hoards of Vermix—heavily armed, I might add—that’ll be
pouring through the gates, waiting to round you up for ‘routine
check-ups.’ Once they come it’ll be too late. Your death will be
imminent and there’s nothing any of us,” he glances to Clarence,
“can do about it. If you want to return home—if you want to rejoin
your lives—we’ll need
everyone
to fight.”

Sampson paces. “Beshib should be gone for a
total of ten days—
nine
now. In that time, we need to be
training…
preparing
for their return. Vix, Clarence and I
will train everyone on various Dofinike weaponry. Rox and the other
Rogue Commanders will assist on human defenses. We can return you
home but only if we’re ready. Only if we’re prepared to fight our
way out.”

***

Sampson has everyone outside where an array
of Dofinike weaponry has been laid out in a single line, following
the curve of the trench and reaching from one end of the Castle to
the other. Vix, Clarence and Sampson break the two hundred or so of
us into three groups, each focusing on different weapons. I’m
grouped with Pratt in Sampson’s section, to the far right side of
the lot, where the Kings chased and eventually cornered me. Reid is
with Tucker, Able and a few of the other Rogues in Clarence’s
group, which hugs the Water Pole. Vix and the others are straight
across from us, on the left side of the Castle.