Within These Walls

Life After Dark: 24 (WTW Sequel)

I was completely on my own here. Unstable, emotional me, surrounded by noise and chaos and assaulted by this pathetic excuse for a man. I didn't want to cause a scene and call attention to myself. Maybe his behavior was completely normal in a place like this, and I was the strange one. I was the one out of place, pretending to fit in when everyone could see the truth seared on my forehead: that I was a fraud, a freak. A monster.

Control. The word darted through my head, taunting me with the impossible. Control. What did I know about control?

"What's wrong with you?" the stranger said, his tone vicious and taunting. "I think you need a drink in you. You'll feel a lot better once you're—"

"I said let me go!"

The words erupted with a forcefulness I'd never felt before. A breath I didn't know I was holding until it left my aching lungs. The stark satisfaction of saying those words mingled with surprise when the man dropped my arm in a rush. I didn't give him time to change his mind. I whirled around and dove into the crowd.

The pressure in my head is blinding. I fly down the long flight of stairs as fast as I can, flanked on all sides by my entourage of Blanks. Holding them within my grasp is like trying to keep a fifty-pound bar suspended over my head; sooner or later, my arms will get tired and it'll crash right down on my head. But failure isn't an option, and the thought of losing Marcus makes me tap deeper into my reservoir of hidden strength, channeling it all into the effort it takes to maintain control over the hordes of mind-dead humans around me.

We make it downstairs and burst through glass doors that open up to the rest of the park. Up ahead, the shadowman is standing deeper in the woods. Between us are about a dozen Blanks, who immediately stop what they're doing and turn to face us.

Blanks don't attack Blanks, I chant in my head as they approach us.

The one closest to me throws a knife that sticks in the chest of one of my buddies.

Dammit. Of course these Blanks would attack us. They're under someone's control and that someone wants Marcus and me dead.

Losing a Blank takes off some of the weight pressing on my brain. I immediately reach out and tear through the rope of control that has the knife-thrower in the Ancient's grasp, bringing her over to my side. That was easy. The Ancient's hold over these people isn't as powerful as I thought. Is it because he's spreading himself too thin by enslaving the whole park? Or maybe he didn't think someone else would ever undo his plans like this.

At seeing their comrade taken by the enemy, the enemy Blanks attack at once. "Stay and fight," I tell most of my Blanks as I back away from the fray. I don't have to give the command verbally, but it helps my panic somehow, to be able to convey with words exactly what's at stake. Months ago, I would've been eaten up at the thought of using human beings as shields, but not anymore. The only thing worse than a dead human is a blank one.

The two Blanks carrying Marcus race after me. We make it about twenty yards when gunfire tears through the noise of screaming park-goers.

"Stop!"

I stumble to a stop and swivel around to face Alec. He's dressed like the four men with him: black uniforms and dark boots, and the memory of the men who chased us and killed so many of us back in the compound floods my head. The soldiers are shooting at the Blanks, all of them. Every time one of them goes down, the pressure in my head dies down until I'm left with two Blanks and Marcus at my side, facing Alec.

Alec Blaine. A gun in his hand and anger in his eyes.

Just like when we left him behind at the compound.