At times, I hate when my thoughts aren't protected; I don't always remember to guard them, but I suppose I should, especially with everything happening lately.
I wasn't particularly interested in going anywhere with Brink--especially alone where there are no cameras and no way out--but I let him take my hand and lead me to the Landing Zone again.
Once we reach the sparkling blue cave, he starts conversation with a question. "Is it strange that I feel better out here?" His voice echoes in the hollow space.
"Versus cramped up in the HQ? No. We probably just get a little stir crazy," I admit. "Why did you want to come out here?"
"I was headed out alone, but I figured I'd ask you to come along. Get you out of the white walls for a while."
I halfway smile. "The environmental change is certainly nice."
"Dare I ask how your ability is coming along?"
"It's coming," is all I say.
He dips his head. "Hmm...your meeting with Damon? How did that go?"
I smirk, but hurry to hide it. "It was wonderful. Ended up getting the information I was after."
Brink raises an eyebrow. "What kind of information? You could have just asked me."
Yeah, because Brink is always so open to talk about my concerns.
I'd never be able to disclose my thoughts of this corrupt place to him. He's a part of what makes it so horrible.
"If I thought you had the answers, I would've asked you. And stop trying to read my head."
He purses his lips. "Anyway, I did want to talk to you about something--Travis McCormack. I am terminating the investigation. Focusing on your power will be much more useful. From now on, someone else will be taking care of him," he says.
"But you haven't given me enough time to really—"
"You have been at it for days, and nothing of use has come about, so we are stopping it. There are more important things to worry about right now, Aurora. We need to get you fully trained."
His insertion of the words we is irritating. I always feel it's me against everyone else.
"I understand, but—"
"Stop. We are done talking about this. You have new priorities now. End of discussion. It is time to head back."
Training has been new for me. I've surpassed the level I've been on in my obstacle course and am given a new challenge that is impossible to complete. I can jog for miles now and ace my running tests every time. On occasion, I leisurely run around the entire training complex just to clear my head.
I've told Brink I want to opt out of combined training for some time until I am able to fully master my power. I don't give him a date in which I will start up again, but he approves. That's all that matters.
Brink advised me not to visit Travis again. His stern rule has lead me to believe things will end badly for Travis, but I don't think I can let that happen yet. If what Travis has said thus far to me has been the truth, I seek more answers from him.
If I'm going to uncover the corruption here from the inside out, Travis will be a good place to start. The day things went wrong on Earth seemed to be the jumpstart to all of this, and if he's truly from Earth, no one would know better about what happened than him. So whether visiting him is against Brink's little rule or not, I head over to the Holding Room in hopes Travis is still dangling from those shackles, alive.
"Hi," Travis says when I sneak in, greeting me with a grin. His face is so precious as he looks at me, like he's watching a newborn child.
"Hey. So...I'm not exactly supposed to be in here right now, but I really need to talk to you about what happened the day things went wrong on Earth. Can you tell me how it started?"
His eyes shift away from me as he takes in a large breath. He holds it in for a few seconds before releasing it. "Yeah uh..." He clears his throat; I'm beginning to think he does that when he's upset.
Maybe this isn't a good way to initiate conversation. Maybe I shouldn't have jumped into it. I should've taken it slow and eased my way in.
"The virus broke out simultaneously in four continents—North America, South America, Asia, and Australia." Travis begins, his right knee nervously quivering. "One infected person turned into 50 in just minutes. Some said it was through pure contact of those who contracted the disease, while others believed it was airborne because of how fast it spread. No one knew what it was or where it came from, and in two days, more than half of the world population was gone. There was no time for burials. No time to create vaccines or figure out a way to heal the infected, because everyone died too quickly. People just rotted in the streets." He pauses, his eyes distant.
I try to imagine the insanity, try to put myself in his shoes, but there's no way my mind's version can measure up to what it was like to live through.
"Before I left my military base, there was word that the president went into a bunker in DC for safekeeping, along with the white house staff. When I ventured out on my own, I heard a radio broadcast from the president that invited all survivors to go there. I planned on taking my family there, until I found them dead. It turned into a solo mission after that. Then I found Katie. The journey to DC would take forever, but it was my only hope. Then you came along and offered a more realistic, doable option."
It's so difficult for me to wrap my head around what he says is my past when I can't recall an ounce of it.
"You know, I've overheard your people talking about some Operation 533, and I'm starting to think that it has something to do with the virus, because I'm associated with this operation, you are, Earth is, and your capture is. It would make sense."
I shake my head. There's no way these people could pull something like that off, is there? How would they even be able to? "You think these people would do something like that?" I almost take offense. "It was Nazareth's people that did it, not mine. If my people had, then all of what we strive for would be for nothing. That would defeat the purpose of everything we stand for. You don't—that's not--"
"What if they did it just to find you? You seem to be of some value to them. You obviously have their special gene or whatever," he mumbles under his breath. He's irritated. Jealous maybe.
I jut my lips out to think. "You honestly think they would release some kind of disease just to bring me here? They saved me from it," I correct him.
But if I'm immune, why would I need any saving?
I can't stop pacing.
"I'm sorry. This is just... I never expected this to come about. I didn't—Travis?" I gasp. He's slumped to one side with his eyes shut, just hanging there.
I immediately check his pulse. His heart is beating, but so slowly I could hardly tell he had a pulse at all. My breathing accelerates as my anxiety skyrockets. Why did he pass out? I shake his shoulders and whack his scruffy cheek to wake him.
Nothing.
He's going to die if I don't act fast. I frantically search the room for something that could potentially help him, and spot the adrenaline.
I run over to it and position the needle along the side of his neck. There are multiple bruises from previous injections scattered about his skin like a plague. As guilty as I feel shooting it into him, I tell myself to be gentle and plunge it. Then I wait. Ten seconds. Twenty. Forty. The minute mark hits and he groans. His eyes open half way.
"Travis? Travis, can you hear me?"
He winces. "Yeah, when you're shouting in my ear."
"Sorry. Are you okay?"
His head swivels to me. "Do I look okay?" he coughs. "Shit, I have to puke. Go." He gags but holds it down.
"You need medicine! I'll get a Programmable—"
"Those robots won't—Aurora get out!"
"I'm going to search the lab. I'll be right back!"
Just as I open the door to leave, he hurls. I move down the hallway quickly, but not fast enough to draw too much attention. I burst into the lab and scour the shelves for serums with antibiotic properties. Every name is scientific and latin, and therefore foreign to me. Plus, they are in a specific order from what I can tell, so finding the right meds will take ages. I rush to a Programmable to ask it for the correct medicine. Crap. What was the virus's name? Brink mentioned it once to me before. AR something. Gosh, what was the number? 6, 7? 5?
I hope I'm right when I ask the Program, "Where is the antidote for AR-5?"
It scans my body before replying. "Your body does not require the medication."
"I need the antidote. Tell me where it is!" I scream at it.
"What is the operation code affiliated?"
Code? What code? There's some kind of password to get it to tell me? Why? Why is everything such a secret?
I try to think of the numbers Travis said to me back at the room. "33."
"Access denied."
Dammit, what was the number? Did it have three numbers--no four? I can't remember. It had 33 in it though, I'm positive. 933? Maybe it was 333? I say all of the number combinations in my head to see which one sounds right before trying again. "533."
"Question not recognized."
Ugh. I go through the motions of asking it all over. This time, I give it the number I think is correct--that Travis thinks is correct.
"Access granted. What is the password?"
Seriously? Another code? With hope, I tell it the password for Brink's office.
"Access denied."
I don't know any other major codes or passwords besides my own and I know that isn't it. What am I going to do now? I can't go back without the antidote; Travis McCormack is too sick to live much longer without being cured. They're letting him die after all. I have to get one of the others to tell me it, whether it be through force or not. I'm not letting Travis die when I believe he holds innocence--and the truth.
Empty-handed, I storm out of the lab, unable to get anything out of the Programmables there. On my way to Brink's office, I spot him in the hallway, headed for the Holding Room. Why would he be going back there? Is he searching for me? As I wade my way through the sea of robots, he catches me and waits for me to approach.
I'm completely out of breath when I arrive.
"Why are you so tired?"
Lie.
"Travis threw up," I blurt. "Yeah, he hurled all over and I was trying to get a Programmable in there to clean it up."
Okay, it wasn't a complete lie.
He analyzes me from top to bottom. "Oh, well that is quite unnecessary. Programmables can sense when something has been spilled or broken on the floor, so they will automatically enter when something such as that happens. In fact, I bet the job has already been done. Why were you in there anyway? I told you not to return."
"I was going to grab him a supplement."
"That is not your job," he snaps.
I bite my lip. "Well, I wasn't sure if someone forgot, since my interrogation ended."
"No one forgot."
"Can I go in with you?"
He frowns. "Wait outside."
"I'll be fine," I counter.
Keeping his eyes on me, Brink thrusts open the door. Travis slowly tilts his head in our direction, but his smile has diminished. He's furious.
"Look who it is, the devil himself," Travis remarks.
Brink chuckles as he strides over to Travis's body. "Funny, I do not recall the devil keeping people alive." He jams the needle into the side of Travis's neck.
"Brink!" I scold.
He whips his head around and glares at me. "Do you have a problem?"
I speak into his head this time. "You don't have to be inhumane."
Brink scoffs and stomps over to me, "No wonder your interrogations have led to nothing. You are weak."
"I'd rather be weak than a psychopath."
He grimaces and a tingly sensation flares up in my chest and spreads outward to my limbs. I look around the room and Brink is gone. Where'd he go? Damon has replaced him and is walking toward Travis with a syringe in his hand, filled with poison. He's going to kill Travis.
"Stop! Please! I thought we were the good people!" I scream at him.
He merely smiles and adds another bruise to Travis's neck.
When Travis doesn't even attempt to fight it, I spot the irregularity. The scene vanishes. Brink's tricks don't work on me as well as they used to.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I say once my panting stops, and give Brink a small shove. Travis's eyes are wide with concern, trying to see past Brink's shoulder.
"Do not question my doings. This is my Sector, Aurora, and therefore, my prisoner. I do what I want. Do not get in the way of that or there will be consequences."
I cross my arms. "Get out."
"Oh no, please, after you." He holds his arm out, his hand showing me to the door.
I'm not going anywhere. "I need a minute."
He chuckles. "Aurora, if you are not out in five seconds, you are going to regret it."
"You better be out in three." I hold my hand up to threaten him. "Or you'll be unconscious for the next few minutes."
His glares at me before cracking open the door. "I'll be talking to you later."
"Can't wait," I sneer.