Adrenaline courses through my veins as I sprint down the hallway. My heart is about to burst out of my chest, and I can't tell if it's from anger or anxiety.
I cannot believe I cut off the Founder's hand. I feel blood soaking my leg through my jeans pocket. I'm afraid to look down; the last thing I want is to puke everywhere.
My feet carry me to Dally's residence, and once I get there, I press my finger onto the scanner. My whole body shakes as I wait for Dally to open the door.
What did I do? Paige will hate me forever, and I probably ruined our friendship. Now I am a criminal. I assaulted someone. And it was the Founder. They're going to lock me back in that cell. And once they figure out how to get the reanimation serum to work on other people, they will kill me like they wanted to. How could I be so stupid?
The door slides open, and Dally stands in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. He's wearing a long-sleeved gray shirt that's too small and blue pajama pants with a hole in the knee. His dark hair is a nest on his head, and it comes down in front of his eyes in knots. He moves the hair with his fingers and looks at me. When he sees the state my jeans are in, he grabs my shirt and pulls me inside.
"Are you hurt?" He asks, his eyes inspecting the rest of my body.
"No," I say, my lungs aching for air.
Dally's residence is an exact copy of mine. A living space with a small kitchenette is the main room, and there's a bedroom and a small bathroom off shooting the residing space. The room smells of old engine oil, making my nose wrinkle.
Dally walks over to his bedroom, and I follow. The room is a mess. Clothes pile on the floor next to the two twin mattresses pushed together. "What happened?" He says, digging through the clothes. He finds another pair of jeans and throws them at me.
I reach into my pocket and pull out Mr. Smith's hand. The fingers are stuck in a curled position, and the muscles are frozen. A ring adorned with tiny diamonds is on the hand's ring finger. The wrist is still oozing blood, dripping onto my hand's skin. The tips of his manicured nails turn a dark plum from the lack of blood. I grip it, my hand trembling as the warmth disappears from the skin. I place it on the nightstand next to Dally's bed. The lamp makes the blood pooling on the table shine—the crimson red reminding me of Dr. Chapman on the bathroom floor.
Dally jumps back, his face full of horror. "Is that a fucking hand?"
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. "Yes. It's Mr. Smith's."
"What!" Dally shouts. "Please don't tell me you're the one that did this."
"I did, and I plan on using it to open the control room door."
"Are you crazy? There could have been other ways to get his fingerprint." Dally stares at it, his eyes blinking fast as if he wishes it could vanish.
"We have to act fast. The guards will be looking for me soon, and if we want to open the gates, we have to go now."
"What do you mean we? I'm not doing anything."
"Dally, please, I need your help opening the gates. I don't know how anything works in the control room."
"And you think I will?"
"There's a possibility! You work in Mechanical and might know what all the buttons do."
Dally shakes his head. "I work with machines, not tech, and I won't know what to do or how it works. Besides, how will you distract the guards? There's always someone stationed out of the control room's doors."
'With this," I pull the gun from my waistband, holding it out to show Dally.
Dally puts his hands over his mouth. "Where the hell did you get that?"
"Mr. Smith's office. Paige and I found it when we were looking through his things." I put the gun on the bed and unbutton my pants. I slide them down my legs and push the blood-soaked fabric away from me with my shoe. I pick up the jeans Dally threw at me earlier and put them on.
"The guards have guns, too," Dally says.
"I know, but they'll be surprised to see one looking back at them. I'm hoping the guards will be too scared to shoot me."
"You're basing your life on hope?"
"If it's what I got to do. You don't understand. I need to get out of the compound. Mr. Smith will have me killed for what I did. There's no other option." I tuck the gun back into my waistband, ensuring it doesn't show from under my shirt.
"Ethan, this is too much." Dally rubs his head. "There has to be some way for you to live here without being killed."
"Even if there is, I don't want it. I'm tired of being lied to and manipulated. We have proof that the air is clean outside, and I have to run for it."
"What about your mother? Is she going to stay here without you?"
"Honestly, I don't care what happens to her. She can stay if she wants, but she's not coming with me."
"And what about me?" Dally raises an eyebrow.
"You're always welcome to come with." I smile at him. "It's not like you have anyone to keep you here."
Dally sighs and pitches the top of his nose. "It's such a risk, and we have no idea who or what is out there. It's been six years, and if there are people out there, they could have a new government or way of life."
"I know, but the way of life down here isn't worth it. Dally, I've lost Paige, and I need you. After everything, I need to get out of here. My life depends on it."
Dally looks at the ceiling, letting his hair fall back onto his shoulders. "Let me change and pack a bag. If I die, it's your fault."
...
We sneak through the corridors, hiding from the patrols guarding the hallways, and make our way up to the part of the Hub that houses the control room's entrance. We peer around the corner of a pillar, ensuring we're not spotted. Two guards are standing at the door, holding their AK47s.
"What's the plan?" Dally whispers.
I take the gun and hold it in my hand. The fluorescent light that stretches down its entirety glows a bright cerulean color. The slim metal is cold in my hands, and I feel myself squeeze the gun's handle to steady myself. "Just follow my lead."
I walk out into the open, hiding the gun behind my back. Dally follows, letting his backpack bump against his back as he walks. The guards immediately lift their weapons; they step closer, closing the space between us. I recognize one of them the second I lay my eyes on him. It's Beasley. The guard that caught Paige, Dally, and me in the tunnels earlier. His strawberry blonde hair pokes out from under his helmet, and his military glasses shield his eyes from us. His lips turn up into a threatening smile. "Why isn't it the Founder's daughter's bitches."
I clench the gun behind my back harder. I take a deep breath and decide not to comment on that remark. "Mr. Smith has asked us to retrieve some paperwork from the control room," I speak as mundane as possible.
"No can do," Beasley says. His gun lowers to the ground, and my nerves rest a little. "Only personnel are allowed in the control room."
"I understand that," I say. I can feel my hands shaking. "The Founder's asked us to get these papers, and I'm not returning to him empty-handed."
The other guard steps forward, lowering his weapon halfway. "Unless we hear it from the Founder, we cannot let you inside."
"We couldn't let you in if we wanted to," Beasley speaks. "Only Mr. Smith and General Fox can open the doors."
"I know," With a deep breath, I yank the gun from around my back, pointing it at Beasley. "That's why you need to leave and help him."
Almost instinctively, both Beasley and the other guard point their guns at us in a quick movement. I can see the shock on their faces even though they're both covered by their glasses. "Where did you get that?" Beasley asks, his hands gripping his gun's handle with white knuckles.
"I'd help Paige with her father if I were you. He's likely bled out by now."
"What do you mean?" The other guard asks.
I motion to Dally with a nod of the head. He swings the backpack off his shoulder and unzips it. He pulls out Mr. Smith's hand, holding it out where both guards can see it. Beasley's face goes pale, and I swear he almost faints.
"If General Fox finds out you two knew the Founder was hurt and didn't rush to his aid, you'll be next to be thrown in a jail cell. And if you two don't move, I'll shoot you, and one of you will die, and the other will still get put in a cell." I say, waving my gun in their direction.
"Or we could kill you both. You would be charged with treason, anyway." The other guard says, cocking his gun.
"I bet I could shoot my gun as fast as you. So, no matter what happens, I will shoot one of you. Now, which one I'll choose is a mystery." I raise an eyebrow.
Beasley lowers his gun and looks at the other guard. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out of his mouth.
"You better hurry. Mr. Smith could be dying right now." Dally says, still holding the hand in his. Blood drops to the ground, silently plopping into the accumulated pile.
"I'm not going anywhere," Beasley says. "Put your gun down, now."
"Not until you let us into the control room," I say.
A loud pop fills my ears, and I feel a sudden pressure in my chest. My lungs fill with fluid, and I begin to choke on it, heaving with every breath.
Beasley shot me.
Dally's next to me in seconds. "Ethan, can you hear me?" I feel his hand cradling my back as I fall to my knees. I cough, blood gurgling out of my mouth. The bullet's impact felt like someone was hitting me with a metal baseball bat and simultaneously setting my skin on fire.
"Ethan," Dally says. I'm on the ground now, and he's hovering over me. I see his eyes turning wet. "Goddamn it!" He yells, the sound of it beating into my head.
"Hands up." I hear Beasley say to Dally. From the corner of my eye, I see Dally's arms go above his head.
I notice the gun lying on the ground next to me, and I reach for it, ignoring the burning in my lungs. I grip its handle hard and point it at Beasley. "If you hurt him, I'll shoot you." I cough up the blood in my lungs and feel it slowly dripping from my nose.
A rush passes through my body, and I feel my breathing begin to improve in seconds. I gulp air, and a tingle spreads across my skin. The burning in my chest subsides, and I manage to sit up. Blood coats my clothes, and its stickiness feels revolting against my skin. I look down, and there's a hole in my jacket above my breastbone. Clotted blood clings to the black fabric. My hand reaches the floor, and I push myself up, standing in front of Beasley and the other guard.
"What the fuck?" Beasley says, his eyes staring at me. "How are you alive?"
I smirk and press the trigger of my gun. A bullet pummels into Beasley's thigh, and he falls to the ground in seconds. His scream is ear-piercing, but it brings me joy knowing he's feeling the same thing I felt.
"Go!" I yell at Dally. He springs into action, grabbing Mr. Smith's hand off the floor and running to the control room's door. He takes Mr. Smith's keycard out of his pocket and passes it through the card scanner. Then, he places Mr. Smith's index finger on the scanner while I point my gun at the other guard.
"Don't move, or I'll shoot," I say. With eyes flicking to Beasley, who is screaming and clutching his thigh, the other guard puts his hands above his head. His face is full of panic, and I can tell the last thing he wants is to be in the same situation.
The control room's door slides open with a swish.
Dally and I rush through the door, my gun pointing at the other guard. When the door begins to slide shut, the bullet in my chest falls out of my wound and bounces across the floor, stopping at the guard's feet.