Gods Under The Dome

18.2

《ELOHIM》

¤

At Dove's command, a stillness akin to death had swept across the hall. All eyes, except ours and the now encroaching guards, glowed that eerie shade of violet indicative of a Sunshine-induced trance.

We were trapped and I hadn't brought enough bullets to secure our freedom.

The guards move on us like predators, their footsteps void of sound though purposeful, just like Della's had been, guns poised for action if the need arose. Most of their sights rest on Sin - he's the largest of us, the biggest target, the one who poses the most threat. I've got three red dots dappling my shirt - Dove must have informed them about me — while Marava and Quint each have one trained at that sweet spot between their eyes.

"There's no where to run," one of the guards says, stepping out of formation and lowering his gun. "Do not resist."

Do not resist. Do as you're told. We'd been living by someone else's rules since birth. I look down at the people beside me, staring blankly at the screen, where Dove sits on his throne, hands clasped on his desk top. I resist the urge to flip him off, and scan the room. The closest exit was to our backs and the Militia had it covered. The windows were ten feet up, maybe more, thick-paned and shatter-proof. Even if one of us could lob a chair that high, the likelihood it would break was low. My eyes flit to the sea of chairs and hypnotized citizens. Maybe...

"Whatever it is you're thinking about doing," Dove's voice booms, "Don't, Ten. I wouldn't want you to be the reason the others get hurt." I gulp. What a bastard. Manipulating his words to convey his threat so masterfully. A true Councilman to the core.

I grit my teeth more determined than ever to keep us alive and out of his hands. Taking in a deep breath, my fingers uncurl and grab the hem of Sin's shirt. He looks at me but I shake my head, hoping that none of the guards have noticed, before casting a sideways glance at Quint and Marava. Quint shakes his head, thick wrinkles cutting across his forehead. He was never the cleverest of us. Thank god for Miss 100% though. As soon as I caught her attention and then motioned toward the floor, her eyes ignited in a fire of understanding.

I exhale and shove past the seated citizens, hand still clasped around Sin's shirt. Like dummies, they topple over, one after the other. All eyes fall on me. "Halt!" one of the guards' screams. 

I look at the one who'd yelled. The smallest of the guards, with a thick middle and bow legs. I can't make out his eyes, but a trickle of sweat winds down his cheek. It was good to know that there was someone else present who was just as nervous. His gun shakes as he points it toward me. 

I raise my hand, walk toward him slowly. My foot grazes the first empty chair, and without thinking, I kick it hard as I can toward the guard. It spirals out, chair legs ramming into him. As the guard tumbles backward, his gun slips out of his grip. It slams into the ground and goes off, sending a round into the ceiling. Dust rains down on the other guards who cast wary glances at each other. It's only a second, but that's all I need. 

I knew I couldn't kill them, but they'd come here with guns, better ones than mine and with far more ammo. All I needed to do was get my hands on one. In the background, I hear Dove shouting orders, raging at his subordinates to capture us quickly and humanely. The last part calmed by nerves a bit. At the very least Dove didn't want us dead...yet.

Something comes over me then. Whether it's nineteen years of rage or pent up frustration or Tujo-like stupidity, I find myself turning to face that voice. Concealed by falling debris, my gaze locking onto Dove, I do what I should have done all along and give him the finger. He gapes, his gaze furious. Snarling, he snaps out of his chair and slams both fists on his desk. Tujo would be proud.