Falling Skies

Thirteen

Ryder slips out of the tiny prison room and into the white medical halls of Haven, a breath he didn't know he was holding finally releasing from his constricted chest.

He turns the corner, a pitter patter following his every sock covered step as he makes his way down the blinding halls. An overhead light flickering every now and then somehow managing to match the thumping of his hummingbird heart.

3pm. At 3pm he'll make his way back down these winding halls, his mind carefully remembering the labyrinth as he turns a sharp left and immediately afterwards a sharp right. As much as he hates this prison, he's thankful for the internal map, silently quizzing himself on the makeup of it as he wanders back to his room.

At each fork in the hall he quizzes what a left will lead him to, or where he would end up if he were to turn around and take a right at the potted plant instead of a left.

His brain whirls as he comes up with a million and one ways to get to one place: the loading dock. It's the only part of the building that opens up to the outdoors: a place he hasn't felt, hasn't smelled, in the entirety of his life.

What do the woods even look like? Is it just like the hall plant but bigger? And what other animals are out there? He's only really seen the slimy ones that are carried in half-sedated in cages. Are there more of them? Or had Haven hunted them out to extinction?

His mind races over and over, wondering about how they'll get out the loading dock. How far of a run is it to the woods, what happens if they lock the exit? Is there another one hidden for emergencies?

"Thinking hard?"

Ryder's head snaps from his thoughts before his hand reaches up to the back of his neck in pain, slightly wincing at the sudden jerk.

Abrahm stands before him in his usual lab coats, a smear of blood crossing his dark cheek before he rubs it into his flesh with the back of his gloved hand. His expression is hard to read, thick eyebrows slightly furrowed but no more than usual, his face constantly holding an expression of slight anger even on the happiest of days.

"Abrahm!" Ryder chokes out with a false enthusiasm, instinctually taking two steps back from the boy. They're the same age yet something about Abrahm just feels...threatening? "What are you doing out this far from the labs? You okay?" He asks, pointing to the now blended blood smudged on his cheek.

"I was actually looking for you,"

shiz.

"Jenn was wanting to see you and asked me to grab you." Abrahm's face contorts to one of annoyance, eyes avoiding the shrinking boy ahead of him and brows furrowing slightly as if the whole encounter was somehow below him. He can't tell how hard Ryder is trembling, only able to read the way his fingers press into his palm and he consistently dry swallows, attempting to play it cool though on the inside he's dying to escape.

Ryder can barely get the words to leave him, each syllable getting caught in his throat until he can cough them free. "Did she say why?"

"Something to do with the new thing? I'm not really sure and I don't really care, I just know I'm supposed to be prepping it for samples and you're a bit in my way."

Abrahm pushes by, a heavy cloud of cologne lingering in his place as he makes his way down the hallway, the only feature distinguishing him from the backdrop being his wild, dark curls and dark skin. Something about his demeanor has changed, fists slightly balled and steps louder, still clearly audible from around the corner as he makes his way towards Wren's enclosure.

As the footsteps disappear Ryder follows the man's instructions, watching his reflection in the floor tiles as he makes his way towards his Aunt's office, dread washing over him.

It starts so slowly, just a creeping vine that finds its way into his sweating palms and keeps crawling up each green vein drawn against his inner arms. It snakes along his collar bones and wraps around his chest before constricting, pushing in his rib cage until each breath feels physically painful as they become so shallow they're unknown to him. His heart rate slows with the incoming vines, body fully trembling by the time his fist lands against the solid metal door of her office.

"Come in."

He can feel the door unlock beneath his hands, the tiny gears in it coming undone as he pushes at the metal, the door creaking slightly as it invites him in, before closing with a slam to seal him to his fate.

"You wanted to see me?"

His aunt sits cross armed at her desk, legs folded over one another with one sharp heel stuck firmly into the ground. She's uncharacteristically dressed, just a simple blue dress with a square shaped neckline, a singular pearl dangling in the center of her chest off a thin gold chain. Her hair has been pulled back into a tight bun though one unruly strand hangs out, refusing to stick behind her ear as she slightly fumbles at it in her frustration.

"You look nice?" His comment seems to take them both aback, Ryder's lips pursing tight as if surprised by the comment that had managed to escape him. And Jenn. Her facade cracks if only for a fraction of a second, almost as if a trick of the fluorescent lights rather than a piece of her falling. A piece viewing the boy ahead of her as an actual child, an actual human, not an object she's forced to keep around.

"Thank you." Her voice slightly falters but she brings it back to her with one breath, arms crossing again to protect her from any other uncharacteristic comments. "I just thought that I should be the one to tell you the news. I consulted our top scientists, December included, and we all agreed that we should breach the childish treaty between you and him. Now-" she holds up her hand, an oddly civil gesture for her. "let me finish. We have decided that the operation should take place within the next three days. You argued for interrogation but that creature can barely speak, there is no use keeping him alive any longer."

Three days.

Three days.

His body leaves the room yet his mind has no recollection of any movements, just a memo on repeat, a stuttered thought that relapses over and over until it's so distorted he can't make out its original meaning. Just three more days.

And then we're free.