Before The Darkest Hour

Seven

Maggie

My stomach churns as I follow the armed men down the hallway.

The walls of this space are eggshell white, and the marbled stone floor seems to move beneath my feet as I stumble along after the man with the stone-cold face, his black hair buzzed close to his head.

I knew it would start soon; the violation of my mind, body, and soul. The numbness I feel now is only amplified by Jezebel's limp grasp on my arm as I shuffle her along behind me. Soon enough, I would be in her headspace as well, just as hurt, just as broken.

But fuck them if they think I will go down easy.

In my mind, I was already cataloging possible escape routes, in hopes of formulating a plan.

They all had guns, but what if one of them gets distracted? Places his weapon down on a tabletop, just in arms reach of me, their desperate captive.

I would take the leap. I would pull the trigger, if that meant that none of us would be hurt.

We pass by wooden doors, some left open with papers littering the floor. Each step takes us deeper and deeper into the building, and the feeling of being underground is claustrophobic. I gag, trying to hone in my anxiety and the fear of being trapped, as I continue to stumble after the soldier.

"No lollygagging, folks. Pick up the pace," Josh says from the back of the line.

I don't dare to look back. Seeing the guns being pointed at us makes this whole situation feel more real, dire, like I truly could die with a single slip of his finger. So, instead, I continue to march forward, pushing through my own panic.

"Where is everyone?" Lyra asks, her voice lacking the sass it had previously, before the truck incident.

Josh chuckles, but the slight nervousness in his voice is the most reactive I've heard from him yet. "They're gone. Dead probably. Off to find their families when the news from Washington arrived."

I want to ask what exactly they had been told. He had to know more about this than we did. Does he know what the vampires want? Does he know if they have any weaknesses? Probably not, considering the rest of the soldiers seem to have abandoned their post. They didn't have much hope for the rest of us.

We are led down the hallway, the bright UV lights flickering on the ceiling. It's giving me a headache, and I doubt anyone here would give me any Tylenol, if they even have any. The slapping of feet against the marbled floor is the only sound that permeates the air for minutes as we march forward. It echoes off the walls, down the corridors that ring like the tunnels of a cavern deep below the earth. The loudness of the quiet was deafening, and I found myself hoping that someone, anyone, would speak up. Anything to distract me from my own wandering mind.

The voice that begins to speak is not one I wish to hear, though.

"In here," the leader of the line says.

He turns abruptly, leading us through the double doors of a large room.

The faint smells of freshly baked bread hang in the air. I stand still as I survey the room, and the others enter the door behind me. There are tables, both round and square, with chairs and benches strewn around them. Some half-eaten food lays abandoned on blue and yellow trays, and a few half-empty water bottles sit on their sides on the tabletop. It seems as if the people here left in a hurry, probably in hopes of getting to their families in time.

I hope they made it.

"Come," the black-haired man says, pointing toward an empty table. I grab Jezebel's hand again and pull her alongside me, and the others follow our lead. Alora has finally stopped crying, and Lyra slugs along beside her with slumped shoulders, but at least she is alive.