Song: Fickle Game by Amber Run
***
Ally and I sit strapped down in the back of a police car. Apparently, handcuffs aren't enough to restrain a couple of kids.
Straps go across our chest in an x formation, keeping us held firmly to the back seat. Our backs crush our hands, which are tightly cuffed behind us. Leather straps run across the tops of our legs and our shins, restricting us from moving at all.
Ally stares out the side window, but I can tell she's crying by her repeated sniffling. No doubt she's terrified that they're going to kill her at any given moment. And honestly, I'm terrified for her too.
"Hey," I lean over, whispering, "you're gonna be okay. We both are. I won't let them hurt you, I promise."
She doesn't answer me, she doesn't even move. "We're in this together, okay?" I whisper. Even if she doesn't acknowledge me, I know she heard me. "Just remember the plan," I mutter.
I watch the city streets pass by, tall buildings towering over everything so high you can hardly see the sky. Few people walk the streets, and those that do are either being attacked or doing the attacking. The sight is so horrifying that I turn away, staring at my lap instead.
After what seems like several hours of cramping and pain, the police car comes to a stop. I glance out the window, but see only a full parking lot. I can't see out the windshield at all due to our sectioned-off cabin, but I know that wherever we are, it's not good.
The officers come around either side of the car and open our doors. I take a deep breath.
The officer unhooks my chest straps first and I immediately bend forward, sighing in relief as my hands cease to be crushed. As soon as the officer unhooks the straps holding my legs down, I bring up my knee to kick him in the face. He dodges it with ease, and I try again, kicking nonstop. Ally does the same beside me, actually managing to kick her officer several times.
Several other officers flood around the car to help stop our attack, trying to restrain us. I notice Ally manages to escape the car, but I have no idea how far she has gotten from there. After a few more seconds of struggle, I manage to jump out of the car.
Only to be tazed as soon as I jump out.
I collapse to the ground face first in searing, blinding pain. My head whacks the pavement with a sickening crunch, and I immediately begin to feel dizzy and nauseous.
Hands come at me from all angles and I can do nothing about it. My vision starts to go fuzzy and the last thing I see before I black out is Ally being held in a basket carry by a police officer.
***
I jolt awake, sitting straight up. Dizziness immediately strikes me and I flop back onto my back, bouncing a bit.
Wait, bouncing?
Very, very slowly, I prop myself up onto my elbows. I rub my hands on the surface beside me. It's soft and smooth. I open my eyes into tiny slits and look around, taking in my surrounding.
I'm in a bedroom - but not my bedroom.
I bring my hand up to my head and lightly touch it. My head has been carefully and expertly wrapped in bandages. It's still tender, however, and I draw my hand back.
I push the covers lower down my lap. My pants, which were black before, are now simple, gray pants and my once green hoodie is now a plain black t-shirt. I run a hand through my hair which is no longer greasy; it's now soft and smooth.
I'm clean.
My first thought is that everything that happened was all a dream. That none of it happened and that I just had a crazy concussion dream or something. I immediately dismiss that thought. It was all far too real to have been a dream.
The second thought that sickens me, however, is how did I get cleaned, changed, and into bed?
But then the third thought hits me. I toss the covers all the way off and very carefully get out of bed. "Ally!" I shout, pacing around the room. "Ally!"
"Hello, Mr. Paget. Good to see you awake," a voice that makes my stomach churn says. "You've been out for nearly a week."
I turn around. Charlotte Baldwin, director of the CIA, stands before me, clad in her usual business suit. "Where am I? Where's Ally?" I ask, unmoving.
"Mr. Paget, will you please sit dow-"
"Tell me what's going on, right now." I demand, my voice quivering with anger.
She stares at me for a moment. "Mr. Paget, will you please sit-"
"I've had enough of your bullshit!" I shout, cutting her off. "You took my life away! You took my family, destroyed my life, and now I don't know what you've done with the only person I've ever called a friend! So no, I will not sit down until you tell me what the hell is going on!" I scream.
Her eyes widen. "Very well then," she sighs. "You are currently at CIA headquarters in Washington D.C. Your friend is being held here in our prisons for her crimes."
"Bring her to me now," I demand, squaring my shoulders.
"I'm not done speaking yet," she insists. "She is a Dasher. That's an illegal crime.We transported you both from the police station in Seattle."
"Where's my family?" I ask, glancing around the room once more.
Charlotte sits on the edge of the bed. "They are still safe and unharmed in Dayton, Ohio. This, Mr. Paget, is where you must make a choice."
"What do you mean?" I ask, beginning to get nervous. Choices are never a good thing, especially when the government gets involved. Nothing is good when the government gets involved.
She folds her hands in her lap. "If you allow us to terminate your friend, Ally, you may have your family back. But if not, your family will remain in carbon freeze until we choose to have them terminated. The choice should be easy," she states, as if she's discussing the weather.
"Why do you want her dead so badly?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her. "Why is it so important that she dies?"
Charlotte stands, beginning to leave the room. "We will escort you to see her, if you wish. Make your choice, Mr. Paget. And make yourself decent. There will be guards coming to fetch you in an hour."
"To go where?" I ask, stepping towards her.
"We're taking you to see your friend," she says over her shoulder.
"Good. And then we're out of here," I scoff.
She turns back around to look at me. "You can't leave. There's someone who wants to meet you. Both of you."
***
