Sliding the hatch door open as quietly as I dare, I climb down the ladder and place the box of Oblivion on the floor of the tunnel. Above me, another clatter rings out as Dani tries to cause distractions for Harding.
Hopefully, we’ll get Caleb back and make it back here. But if not, perhaps Frank and Lena can retrieve the Oblivion before anyone notices it’s missing.
I grab on to the ladder and climb back up, careful to keep an eye out for any extra wardens that might patrol the warehouse. Sure that the coast is clear, I haul myself over the edge and close the hatch behind me.
Caleb shrieks out in pain, and I hear the unmistakable buzz of a taser net.
“Come on out, Kyla. Let’s stop playing games,” Harding shouts. I can hear the grin on his face. “Caleb—” a shriek, “—misses—” another shriek, “—you!”
Grinding my teeth, I’m about to shout out to Harding when Dani’s voice interrupts me. “Stop it!”
“But he’s having so much fun!”
Caleb cries out wordlessly, his animalistic wail punctuated by another buzz of electricity.
My feet finally react, and I sneak along the aisles until I can get a visual on Harding. I have no plan—no idea how I could help Caleb, but I couldn’t live with myself if I just left him here.
Following the sound of Harding’s voice, I pass another two rows of storage racks before I see both their silhouettes in the distance. We’re on the furthest end of the warehouse. The racks have finally ended, replaced by a large space for deliveries.
Caleb is slumped against a forklift truck, his arms spread out either side, barely supporting his weight. His knees have buckled under him, so that he’s sat on the floor, but his legs are a tangled mess below him. He looks like a rag-doll, barely staying in place.
Harding stands over him, fully kitted out in his black warden uniform and helmet. His rifle buzzes with electricity at his side, and he scours the shadowed shelves for any sign of movement.
Without being able to see his face, it’s difficult to tell exactly where he’s looking, so I tear myself away and duck behind the last row of boxes, peeking through a gap instead. I can just barely make out his movements.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Dani shouts again—from another part of the warehouse. I could be wrong, but it sounds like they’re trying to change their voice. It sounds lower, huskier.
“That you, Kyla?” Harding’s helmet turns toward the sound.
A scuffling from behind me—Dani’s moving, trying to pretend there are more of us here.
“Not just Kyla!” a different tone again, rougher. It would be comical if it weren’t for our situation.
Harding turns his head again.
While I admire Dani’s bravery, it’s no use—he’s not going to leave Caleb to search for me. He knows all too well how to lure me out. I’m right here, after all. It’s only a matter of time before the torture is too much to witness, and I try to save him.
We both know this.
“I dunno who that is,” Harding growls, “but I’m done with your shit. Send Kyla out here now, or her brother’s going to reform in her place.”
My stomach lurches, and I bite my tongue, softly knocking my head against the boxes behind me. I want to cry out, give myself up, get Harding to let Caleb free. Every fibre of my being is screaming at me: “What the fuck are you doing? Save him!”
But I’m not an idiot. The second I step forward, Harding will take us both to reform. There’s no way he’d keep his end of the deal. And what would I do then? Cry? Beg? Plead? He’d love every second of it.
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The patter of Dani’s footsteps echo from the ceiling, multiplying and distorting with each rebound. They’re still trying, even if it’s useless, even if there’s no way to get Caleb back. They’re trying.
And I’m sat with my back to a stack of boxes, hiding from a man who wasn’t even on my radar a few months ago. I’m stuck fighting the urge to help my brother—my most natural instinct in the world.
I open my eyes, and Dani is staring right back at me from the next aisle. They shake their head, slowly, like they’re reading my mind. Even through the small gap in the shelving, I’m able to see their hands as they sign to me. ‘Don’t you dare hand yourself in. Caleb wouldn’t want you to.’
I frown. ‘What else can I do? What if he kills him?’
‘He won’t. Too much paperwork. We can get him back. Frank is working on—’
“Oh Kyla?” Harding’s mocking call is full of grit and relish. I can practically hear the grin on his face. He’s loving every minute of his torturous game.
Dani raises their eyebrows and gives a curt nod. ‘Don’t rise to it. Trust me?’
Tears prick at my eyes. I wish I could put more into one look—regret, sadness, longing, connection—but there’s no time. I return the nod, though I’m not able to keep the concerned frown off my face.
In one motion, Dani swipes a box from the shelf between us and throws it to the ground by their feet. The contents smash through the silence, shattering from the impact and scattering across the floor—shards of glass and torn labels and liquid spread in a wide puddle.
I gape at Dani, unable to process what they’re planning.
They give me a sad smile. ‘Run.’
Before I can protest, Dani yells at the tops of their lungs. “If you want me, you’re going to have to come find me, shit-for-brains!” It’s an incredibly convincing impression of me this time.
The seconds slow to minutes, and Dani’s half-finished statement rings in my head. ‘Frank is working on—’ Working on what? A coup? A way to rescue more Abandoned? Some plan to get Harding in trouble? It could be anything.
Dani strides along the stacks, tossing boxes off the shelf as they go. Some fall with a heavy thud, others smash loudly as the contents collide with each other and spill onto the floor.
Our thread pulls taut. I grit my teeth and turn away, back towards the hatch. One of us has to get out, go back to Frank and Lena. If they don’t know what happened, there’s no way of getting anyone back.
Tears spill onto my cheeks, blurring the path ahead. I blunder along, grateful for the commotion Dani is creating on the opposite end of the building.
The threads connecting me to Dani and Caleb flex under the strain of abandonment.
Before I know it, the hatch is at my feet. It’s so easy. Dani made it easy for me. All I have to do is open it and step through.
Our threads stretch further, and snap.
A buzz of electricity from the other side. Caleb yells for mercy. Dani shrieks, and a loud thud follows—like a huge sack of potatoes hitting the floor. I screw my burning eyes shut and push my fists against them, cursing my indecision.
A memory flashes behind my eyelids, followed by bile at the back of my throat.
#
I face off with Dani at the counter in Emotiv, my chest heaving with adrenaline, scribbling a note on a piece of paper. I shove it under their nose with an air of superiority.
I will not go to Reform for you.
They roll their eyes, and reach for my pen. I practically throw it at them, and they tut—their long, soft eyelashes fluttering for a moment—irritation? Or disappointment?
Perhaps both.
Calm down. You didn’t do anything.
#
No. I never do anything. Nothing’s changed.
Other people make the decisions, take the risks. I just stand by while they pay the price for my mistakes.
Well, not anymore.
I square my shoulders and march back to the delivery area. A shiver runs down my neck, and I clench my jaw to regain control.
Dani whimpers behind me, unseen beyond the racks, and a gruff voice mutters something in an angry reply.
I keep up the pace, allowing my legs to continue their zombie-like autopilot. Stiff and formal, like I’m walking to the firing squad.
I may as well be, I suppose.
When I round the corner, Caleb is unconscious on the floor, his head pinned at an awkward angle between his chest and the forklift truck. He must have slid down when he passed out.
I walk closer. Harding aims his rifle at me, his face still hidden by his helmet. Trails of electricity snake along the barrel, flashing an eerie blue light over my reflection in the dark visor.
“Alright. I’m here. I’ll come with you. Let them go.”
Harding’s shoulders shake, and he lowers the gun slowly. He’s laughing.
He closes the distance between us, his gait so casual, we might be approaching each other on the dancefloor, about to partner up for a waltz.
So close he’s towering over me now, just like we had been in the storeroom at Emotiv. He leans in, and I grit my teeth, determined that I won’t move, I won’t back down.
“Lead the way,” he murmurs, stepping aside suddenly to allow me to pass, motioning with his hand.
I lift my chin higher and take one step forward. Before I can take a second, a sharp pain cracks across the back of my head, and stars cloud my vision.
My knees give in beneath me, and I watch the room spiral as it fades to darkness.