Brought Down

38. The Rival

Julian

Two figures in white robes conceal Burnface from me. I can only see his hand as he reaches for the scanner on the wall. Then, the door slides aside.

The moment it is only half open, a burst of gunfire comes through it. The last thing I see before the bed returns to its horizontal position is an explosion of blood and flesh. Then, the bed clicks, and all I can see is the white ceiling, except it's not so white anymore, with fresh splashes of blood decorating it here and there.

The gunfire ceases. Through the ringing in my ears, I begin to make out voices. The doctors are gone, too, and I can hear them pleading from somewhere on the floor. It means there are rebels in the room, and rebels are my friends now, aren't they? Yet I don't feel particularly relieved, still being unable to catch a glimpse of what's going on.

At last, someone comes to the bed. I blink away my recent tears, trying to make out who it is. Blond hair, like Garrett's, but longer.

Angie's unsmiling face looms over me. Her expression is unreadable under the smears of blood. Not her blood, I assume.

"Is he dead?" I whisper. "Is Burnface dead?"

She contemplates me silently, as if deciding on something.

"Garrett was upset he couldn't make it," she says at last. "I could see how worried he was about you."

Chills creep up my spine. What should I answer? Should I?

"I wonder if he ever worried about me like that," she says. "And we have history, you know. I don't know why he wants you more than he's ever wanted me, but it's a fact." She shrugs. "So I decided to take this detour."

I stare at her, struggling to comprehends the situation. She basically thinks I stole her boyfriend. Also, I'm tied to the bed, and she has a gun.

I'm so screwed.

"Angie, let's go," someone shouts from the door. "They need us at the armory."

"Coming." She raises her gun. I flinch. There it goes—she will shoot me here and now, and nobody will know. Just one more casualty among many others. She will blame it on Burnface. She will have Garrett all to herself. Such an elegant, simple solution.

I would have done the same.

To my surprise, she places the gun on the table. Then, she retrieves a short-bladed knife, and starts cutting my restraints with it.

When she's done, she steps back. For a second, even though I'm free, I'm unable to move.

"Get up," she says, turning away. "We can't wait for you."

I scramble into a sitting position, wincing at the pain as the blood rushes to my numb limbs. I get off the bed, and pause, steadying myself on it. Angie's already by the door. Outside, I can see the two doctors escorted away by one of the rebels.

"Wait," I call. "Angie?"

"What?" she looks back, all impatience. I try to walk but my numb feet barely obey.

"Why didn't you..." I limp towards her the best I can. "Why didn't you shoot me?"

She frowns. "What, so that he would be with me because there's no choice? Because the person he really wanted wouldn't be there anymore?" She shakes her head. "I don't want him on such terms, Julian. I deserve a man who wants me with all his heart, not someone who accepts me as a second-best option."

I try to find the words, but there's too much to express.

"Thank you," I say at last.

She rolls her eyes and walks out without another word.

I pause to look at the bloody heap on the floor. Burnface. So much fear and pain and ruined lives have been caused by what now looks like a torn and battered ragged doll. And he still scares me, even now, even though he's dead and I can't see his face.

I give him a wide berth and leave the laboratory.

I do my best to follow Angie and her group, but they quickly get far ahead. I haven't heard any gunshots in a while. What's happening? Is it over? Have we won?

The once white corridors are barely recognizable. There are smears of blood and dirt on the walls, pieces of broken equipment on the floor. I pass a couple of bodies  in blue uniforms. I wonder if there were casualties on the rebels' side.

The truth is, I just want to know that Garret is all right.

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