"Do as they say, Josh," my father whispers hurriedly against my ear. Palms sweaty, I nod and follow the guards out of the holding room. Both of them wield unusual-looking weapons that match the dark fabric of their vests. Hushed mutterings drift towards me from the former Depot inhabitants that trail behind us hesitantly. Up ahead, the guards make a sharp left around a corner. I struggle to keep up with them in the near-darkness, my wounded arm throbbing with each footstep.
I don't know where we are. Ever since my father and I were packed into a helicopter with a room-full of others, the only things I could sense were heat and fear and pain. When we landed, we were blindfolded and led into some sort of cavern: at least, that's what the musty smells and dampened stone walls indicate. This is the first time I've left the holding area since our arrival.
"Do you know where we are?" I whisper sideways to my father. He'd been rounded up with the rest of the Depot detainees, in spite of him not technically being a prisoner. John Elliot had ordered that my father receive a trial to determine his innocence after a large bunch of prisoners under his surveillance had escaped the holding room at the Depot. Even though I hate to dwell on the fact that he was plotting against the Resistance all along, I can't help but wonder if he has some useful information up his sleeve. To my disappointment, he shakes his head forlornly, jaw tightened.
"No idea." I bite my lip to keep from snapping at him in frustration. The straight-faced guards lead us around another corner and we pass through a cramped doorway. What the adjacent room lacks in light, it makes up for in sound. Low moans, anguished groans, and pitiful whimpers surround our party on both sides. I struggle to see past the darkness, but I still can't make out the sources of the dismal sounds. The guards must be keeping us in the dark on purpose.
"Pay no heed to our prisoners," one of the guards--a burly, mustached man--demands over his shoulder. "They are mentally unstable."
Upon closer examination, I realize that the two walls enclosing us are made up of large cages, big enough to hold one or two adults. I notice a small movement in one of them but, just before I can focus on it, the hallway ends and we enter another dark room, just slightly larger than the first holding area we were ushered into.
"Sit down," the hulking guard growls. Everyone fills in organized rows of chairs and quietly watches the guards pace at the front of the room. Their faces remain expressionless, though they seem tense. We wait in silence for a long time until a door at the far, darkest side of the room crashes open. The guards jump in shock, and so do all of the people hunched over in chairs. Only a large, muscular, rough silhouette can be discerned of the new visitor.
"So these are it?" He hisses in a haughty, gravelly tone, slamming the door. Unprecedented chills race down my arms and my father grips the seat of his own chair. Since the speaker is bathed in shadow, the only features I can discern of him are two yellow eyes with slit-like pupils. My stomach writhes in undisguised fear.
"Y-yes," the smaller guard stammers. He has a nasally voice and a pointed chin. "Just arrived this morning. Willis and I oversaw their arrival."
This morning! How long have we been here?
"Very good, very good." The visitor's thin, vertical pupils widen as he surveys the terrified crowd. The larger man--Willis--clears his throat and moves closer to the dark side of the room.
"Sir?" He asks timidly.
"What?" The visitor snaps. I can tell that Willis has to try hard not to take a few steps backwards.
"I have an update concerning Region Two."
"Alright, alright, let me hear it." Willis clears his throat again and shuffles nervously.
"Officials present at one of the Academy of Global Doctrines' chipping events have complained of a disturbance. According to my sources, Enna Price, a young man, another woman, and a little girl have escaped the city with two full containers of chipping devices." I tacitly catch my breath. Enna's alive!
The smaller guard cringes a little, as though he expects the shadowed figure to attack him. But instead, the yellow eyes widen in joy.
"Marvelous! She's taken the bait!"
"Excuse me, Master?"
"Oh, come off it you imbeciles!" The stranger snaps. Complete silence hangs over the room, and, despite myself, I feel bad for the guards who face the visitor's glowering stare. "Were you not briefed on the plan?"
Willis opens his mouth dumbly, and then closes it promptly. The small guard's knees tremble a little and his mouth gapes soundlessly. The silhouetted figure continues, ignoring the moronic responses of his cronies.
"In the end, it won't matter that Region Two is short a few thousand chipping devices; what matters is that we have Enna Price in our grasps. I take it that there is a Joshua Grey in this room?"
Heads slowly start turning to me, but I can only sit still, frozen in fear. My father stares at me in mild terror. The speaker's slit-like pupils contract and fix their stare at me.
"Speak up, idiot boy," the harsh voice demands. "Do you or do you not know Enna Price?" My voice seems to be frozen in my throat, so I force myself to nod timidly instead, wondering whether dishonest refusal or truthful admittance is my safest option.
"Don't you see?" The shadow figure addresses the whole crowd now, and my dad grabs my hand. Even though the gesture comforts me, I yank my fingers out of his grasp. Only he could have reported the fact that Enna and I were related in any way. I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Our plan to use Joshua as bait is succeeding. Surely, Ms. Price won't be able to bear the fact that her friend has been abducted. We can safely assume that about her by now."
I stay still and quiet as I let the horror sink in. I'm putting Enna in danger. Me. And it's all thanks to my dad. Anger boils within me, almost spilling over.
"Forgive me, sir, but how are you sure that Enna and her comrades will decide to look for Joshua?" Willis asks, his voice trembling. "They could simply be escaping under our noses! There's no way to be absolutely certain."
The yellow eyes curl as the visitor presents an evil, gleeful grin. A sharp, harsh laugh bursts forth from the darkness, and I feel the urge to run.
"She'll come. We're counting on it."