The Deathless Trilogy

1.29. In the Bunker

I am strapped into my seat inside one of the Prowlers, but I fidget to get comfortable beneath the strangely patterned armor they've thrown over our uniforms. It looks like a spider has spun a web over our rib cages, each strand a thin overlay of tungsten. I'm not sure it's purpose. It can't be to protect us from being shot, because the gaps in the web are large enough to fit a bullet. I think it must be to make us look like glittering, ominous skeletons.

Mitchell apparently worked all night to convert the remaining Prowler droids into Trojan horses, within which our entire army now waits. He added a few rows of seats against the inner walls going down into the chamber, each connected to a sloped walkway that leads to our exit. Once we are in the bunker, we will all use these walkways to leave the Prowlers' bellies and attack. We've practiced our exit a few times now, so it's firmly in my mind.

Mitchell opens our hatch for one last check before we head out. "Remember everyone: If you are feeling lightheaded, pull your oxygen mask over your face. They are located on the wall beside your seats. Underneath your seats are your gas masks, which you will need to wear when we enter the bunker so that you remain unaffected by the knock out gas. Any questions?" His words echo in the chamber. "Okay. Remember that you're all heroes today. Good luck," he says before closing the hatch door and leaving us in darkness. Our black uniforms camouflage us within the Prowlers' belly. They'll never see us coming, unless, of course, Nate has already told them. In which case, they'll be waiting for us.

This will never work, I think, but I push the negativity from my mind. Declan told me that I'll be coming home to him and Mom, and I'm going to hold on to that hope. It is my last bit of comfort.

Phoebe sits beside me, since apparently now I'm under her watch in the bunker, and Winston and Alexander sit across from me.

Winston catches my gaze. "You look exhausted."

"I haven't slept."

"Rest," he says. "It will be a while before we make it to the bunker."

I want to tell him that I'm okay, that I'm strong enough to stay awake, but I have no reason to lie. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"People on death row used to get last meals. Consider this yours," he says. That's more like what I expected to hear.

The Prowler begins moving. We are on our way. I close my eyes to try to block everything out, and despite the noise, despite my imminent death, I fall asleep.

***

Three days pass inside the Prowler. I've caught up on my sleep, endured angry stares from nearly everyone around me, and lost my dignity trying to use the makeshift restroom hatch at the bottom of the machine's hull. As if marching toward death wasn't torture enough.

I try to block out everything, and I close my eyes to dream. In my mind, I'm back at home. My real home. My whole family is there, and we're laughing around the firepit. I belong. I'm happy.

But then I am shaken awake. "Isla. Isla, wake up," I hear Phoebe saying. I feel hands on the back of my head, and then I feel pressure against my face. I open my eyes to see her placing the gas mask over my face. "We're almost here," she whispers.

"Thank you," I try to say, but she has taped my mouth shut. When I reach up to remove it, I see my hands are bound together too. Not only am I a prisoner, but now I'm going into battle without a weapon or any prayer of defending myself.

Behind me is one of the air holes, so I turn to look out of it. Through the space, I recognize the yard outside the bunker. Then I see a few soldiers watching the Prowlers and guiding them into the mouth of the bunker. They are shouting something to soldiers that I can't see, but I can't hear what they are saying.