Children of the Gamma

chapter two || iv

[ word count : 2,160 ]

The room hushes.

He's dressed in a black vinyl suit, for once unarmed, save the assortment of knives strung along his belt. His tan face, which I've only ever seen on the news and in his wanted ads, is scattered with scars and bruises, scabs speckling his skin. His dull white-blonde hair is cut short, his hazel eyes shot through with blue. If I look closely enough at his arms, I can see the faint outline of his skin patterns under his tight sleeve.

In his scarred hands, Zion clenches a metal container, maybe four feet by three feet. Four other guys follow behind him, armed to the teeth.

My stomach sinks into my feet.

"It's Zion," Dizzy breathes, clutching Aria's shoulder.

I turn, facing them—and hesitate at what I see on their faces. April's eyes glow with rage, her jaw clenched tight. Fear and shock battle across Dizzy's expression as she tries to catch April's eye. And Aria—

Inexplicably, she doesn't look surprised. That's not to say she isn't on the verge of fainting, though. Her large eyes are glazed with, of all things...sadness.

"What the hell is he doing back?" April grinds out between her gritted teeth.

"Did he know we'd be here?" Dizzy's voice shakes.

Their tones give me pause—something's off.

"Wait, wait," I say, lowering my own voice, "do we know him?"

Dizzy spares me a glance long enough to tell me, "We do—I don't think you two have ever met."

"I never planned on it, considering he's a serial killer," I say. "How do you know him?"

Aria speaks up at last, her voice weak. "He's the reason I left the now-here kids. And the reason I came back."

Must she always be so goddamn cryptic?

Dizzy puts a hand on Aria's back to calm her. "What do we do?" She looks between me and April.

"Obviously leave." I risk a glance back at him meandering through the crowd, his steps purposeful. "He's here to—"

"Yeah, we know that," April cuts me off. "Cecil, take the front, I'll take the back."

"Got it." I put myself in front of the three, then plot a route through the crowd. If we stick close to the wall, we shouldn't be noticed. I motion for my friends to follow me as I slip into the crowd, keeping an eye on—

Zion's gone.

I swallow my rising dread and keep moving forward, glancing back to make sure the girls are still behind me. Aria nods for me to keep going, Dizzy checking for April at her back. I skirt around clusters of confused people, staying low—the door's just in sight, not ten feet away—I try the knob—

It's locked. I shove my shoulder against it, but it doesn't budge. No air filters from the bottom. It's barricaded.

Panic constricts my ribs.

I whirl around and rush toward April to tell her to find another—

"April."

A soft voice, carrying through the din of the crowd, bleeding authority.

Zion stands on the stage, the box now resting at his feet. Staring straight at us—at April.

And the patrons have been forced against the wall, his lackeys keeping them in place with drawn knives and handguns.