"But if you close you eyes, does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?"- Pompeii // Bastille
"Bob!" I accidentally scream. Hopefully henchmen don't hear us and come to get us.
But his voice is so mangled. He's in pain, so much pain.
Tears flow down my face and I raise my pistol, the one that killed Diana. Who's to blame for Bob's strife that I can shoot?
"It's alright, Janis," Ashton assures me in a calm tone, the way he always does. "If he's over the intercom he must be in the control room and I know how to get there."
"Le-lead the way," I choke.
In a second he's got us turned around and we sprint in the opposite direction, even faster this time.
It's terrible, because as we run, the screams don't stop. I just keep jogging. It's like conditioning in tennis practice, I try to convince myself. But I can't. I've never had to run while listening to the horrible sounds of Bob's suffering.
About 5 minutes into sprinting it gets worse: he tries to speak.
I subdue my own heaves and pants to listen. "Janis! Don't come any more! I'll be fine! Just remember that I-" A second later his screams get even worse. "AAAAAARRRGHHHH!" HEXA obviously isn't wanting him to pass any information onto us.
This only makes me cry harder and after that his screams grow continually worse. I only listen as he moans in pain and sobs loudly. "P-ple-" he pleads before howling even louder.
Alice jogs by my side, keeping Perry in her sight and tries to comfort the best she can when we're running down a hallway.
"It's going to be alright."
"You don't know that."
"I don't. I just think it will be alright."
My sister isn't the greatest at comforting people.
On our way to the control room we only run into one guard. Kicking him in the shin he falls to the ground and Ashton lets me shoot him. I've stopped feeling bad about it by now.
No less than 5 minutes after that we arrive.
The control room looks how you would expect a control room would: computer screens and buttons everywhere. But the rest of it I wouldn't have expected to be in a control room a couple weeks ago.
Two HEXA guards sit on either side of where he sits in his chair, writhing in pain, moaning, grunting, and cursing. I remember what he told me on our date in Guaybitos: HEXA used to pour scalding water on him and then ice to see how his skin reacted under the aging serum.
They're going along these same lines now. He's wearing only a pair of gray sweat pants and no shirt. His feet are submerged into a pot of almost boiling water. I watch as every time he tries to pull them out he's prodded by the guards with sticks of red hot iron. Each prod makes him howl and wince and shove his feet back in the scalding in the water. Marks on his chest tell me this has been going on for a while. And since I've never seen him shirtless before, I notice other marks and nasty gashes that I know aren't from tonight.
I notice all this in the seconds before I shoot both of the surprised guards to the ground. I believe they expected us to arrive, but not with weapons. Thank goodness we had Ashton to find the armory.
"J-Janis," he sobs. I've never seen him cry before and I never expected him to, but right now his face resembles a small child. Large, actual tears fall from his eyes that crystalize with their presence. His lip quivers.
He pulls his feet our and I see how red and disgusting they are. What if this has caused permanent damage?
I dash forward finally, embracing his bare, scarred torso. Tenderly, I wipe away the tears on his face, kissing a few of them. "It's going to be okay now, we're going home."
From the doorway, Ashton watches us with unexpected sympathy. Here we are, the whole squad just a group of teenagers, each of them breaking apart.
"C'mon. We must get a HEXA car and leave immediately. We can take the tracking device off. That won't take long," he tells us. He and Guad lift Bob and carry him so he doesn't have to walk on his scalded feet.
The trip to get a car is short but also a blur. All I remember is somber and hasty walking, Bob asking where Diana is, Perry crying, and us getting into a large SUV in a huge hanger.
Ashton takes the tracking device out quickly and offers to drive and no one objects. He and Guad take the front, Bob and I climb in the back, and the rest take the middle row.
The sound of the ignition is alien and nice leather seats confuse me as we smoothly pull out onto the highway towards Sacramento. No one shoots at us, no jungle birds caw above our heads. Why?
Am I safe? Is this what safety feels like?
No one says anything in response to what I think in my mind.
I finally take my bulletproof vest and chuck it in the back, my already ruined t-shirt soaked to my skin in sweat. My breaths are still shaky and I expect a HEXA henchman to fly in through the roof and start shooting at us. It has to come any second now.
For several minutes I stare intensely at the ceiling, waiting for the guard to come in. I keep my hand on my gun, ready to pull it out at any second.
But no one ever comes in. Ashton plays the symphony channel and we glide beneath the stars. Should I take my hand off my gun? Slowly, I do and try to breathe deeply.
For the first time in so long, I'm not feeling like I'm running from something. I start to feel like I'm moving towards something so much better.
Hesitantly, I lay my head on Bob's bare shoulder and he wraps a scarred and barcoded arm around me. Feel better, Bob. Fall asleep, I plead. Let your wounds heal.
It's 2 o'clock in the morning and I'm dead tired.
It's 2 o'clock in the morning and my bones burn in pain.
It's 2 o'clock in the morning and no one aims a gun at me.
It's 2 o'clock in the morning, and I'm finally safe.
. . .
When we wake up we're in the parking lot of an apartment complex. The sun is beginning to crawl up the rooftops of the suburbs to say high. Palm trees sway and a chilly, late winter breeze brushes the car.
I don't recognize the place, but Perry obviously does.
"You're the one who gave me the address," Ashton reminds the boy, who is beginning to look emotional at the sight of what I guess is the home he shared with Diana.
He unbuckles his seatbelt. "It's just- she was supposed to return with me," he mutters, as if hoping no one will hear.
Ashton nods. I've thought of him as unfeeling, stone, and cold. But right now his electric eyes are watching Perry with understanding. "Do you mind if we come in, mate?"
A nod from Perry.
It's quite a process getting us all out. We have to lower the middle row to get room enough to put Guad's combat boots from HEXA on Bob's scalded feet. Even still he winces as he puts them on and walks in. He leans on me to support (probably not the best choice when we have three able bodied men instead).
Ashton tells us it's better to leave our weapons, but I leave my pistol in my waistband anyways. Nothing is going to stop me from making sure that Alice, Bob, and I are safe from danger.
Perry lived on the fourth floor.
"Obviously we having been paying rent, but-" he looks at a paper taped to the door, "it looks like my parents have in case we came back." He breathes out and I wonder if he's going to collapse on the floor. His frame is weak and his letter jacket overshadows him now. His golden hair is close to brown, caked with dirt and mud. "It's just- It wasn't really them who were supposed to not return, you know?"
Alice squeezes his hand.
Opening the door, I instantly feel at home, like I'd want to live here.
Diana and Perry lived in a tidy, neat apartment, with a kitchen and living room in the front and two bedrooms in the back.
A mug halfway full of icy, aged coffee rests on the counter. The mug enthusiastically tells us that "It's a good day to have a good day!" Two bowls littered with popcorn kernels sit in the sink.
Perry tries to explain the bowls. "We'd watched a movie the night before we left," he sniffles and I find it hard to watch. "I told her I'd wash the popcorn bowls afterwards." He looks into the sink with a puckered lip. "I never did of course, but I- I can do it now."
Before we can react he rushes forward and snatches a washrag. Furiously, he starts rubbing a popcorn bowl, spraying kernels everywhere.
"Perry!" cries Alice. She moves to him and pulls his hands away from the dishes. "It's okay," I hear her add quietly. "You don't have to do chores anymore."
Clearing his throat, Ashton says, "Would it be alright if we all went and took showers?"
Shower! my mind squeals. Oh that would be so great.
Sobbing pitifully, Perry nods. "You can wear our clothes. It'd be rude to keep you in what you're wearing." I look around at the assortment of HEXA gear and torn street garb.
Leaving Perry alone to watch the tv, Alice and I walk into what we find to be Diana's bedroom, with it's own bathroom. His apartment is decked, I think, reminding myself to say "his" and not "their."
Her room is more simple than I'd expect it to be, with a view overlooking the quaint, normal street. A chalkboard has some nicely written inspirational quote about adventure. On the walls throughout there are photographs of her posing with Angelina and that blonde girl Lisa. They sit in a coffee shop, at one of Perry's tennis matches, at a carnival, drinking boba in an Asian tea house, with Diana's parents in the front of the apartment when she first moved in, etc.
It must have been a nice place to live.
"You can shower first," Alice states. I don't argue, only nod and walk into the bathroom.
It feels so strange, almost wrong, to just come in and use a person's private space. Especially if the person is dead. I mean, what did Diana do in her room? Talk to Angelina about boys? Call her parents down the street?
I try to ignore these thoughts as I shower, and that isn't too difficult. The feeling of the warm water is amazing and I'm consumed in the high of getting clean again.
I must take a while because it isn't long before Alice shouts at me to get out.
That's strange. It's almost like we're home.
A few minutes later I'm browsing Diana's closet for clothing. I can't deny how wrong it feels. But I also feel as though Diana would definitely be the kind of person to share clothing.
I'm sitting on her bed, finally dressed in fresh, new clothing (a baseball tee and shorts) when Angelina knocks and walks in.
It's as if the room has chemicals in the air that change her. She blinks only once and her eyes well with the smallest of tears. She casually wipes them away, as if embarrassed.
"I just- I need to get dressed too."
The redheaded girl, two years older than me but suddenly so small, hastily moves to the closet and gets dressed.
Afterwards she sit uncomfortably next to me on Diana's bed, wearing a light green blouse that matches her eyes.
"This shirt is mine actually," she tells me. "I left it here."
I don't reply because I don't know how. The sound of Alice's shower fills the silence. A few morning birds chirp outside and it seems amazing to me that the day is only just beginning.
It seems so strange to me that Angelina is acting timid. I never knew her for long before she was taken by HEXA, but I could tell that she was the type of person to be as tough as a rock. Confident and strong, what I've always wanted to be like.
Then it strikes me. Angelina was in HEXA's captivity for months. Just like Bob, she was imprisoned by them and escaped. And we've all seen what being held captive did to Bob.
Did anything terrible happen to Angelina too?
"What happened to you while you were with HEXA?" I ask suddenly. "After they captured you."
"I don't really feel like talking about it," she replies swiftly with a bite.
I turn to her and watch the timid walls melt away. Her pea green eyes are piercing and seem to attack mine.
"You've seen what HEXA can do haven't you?" Yes, I think. They can kill my dad. They can destroy Bob until he's a shell of scars pretending to be happy. They can kill your best friend, Angelina. Observing my expression closely, I'm almost afraid she can read my mind. "That's what I thought. So why bother asking?"
I bite my lip. She's right. And based on the way she's acting HEXA must have done something terrible. But physically she seems fine. Which is almost worse. Everything they did to her was done to her mind.
"I'm going to go back to the living room," I say. "I'm sure we're about to decide what comes next."
Angelina bobs her curly head. "I'll come with you. Perry's in no state to be alone."
For the first time I remember that Angelina is now the only one who knew Perry before Punta Arenas. Before this all started.
Without a word we leave the room and enter the living room where Perry sits slumped on the couch, defeated and dejected. He wears a tennis t-shirt and a clean pair of athletic shorts someone must have forced on him.
His hair that was once so neat is no long and growing past his ears. Bags under his dim green eyes tell me he didn't sleep at all on the ride home, and almost make him look demented. He stares right at me, like an animal and not the charming boy that caught my sister's heart.
"I think we're going to have a council, Perry," I comment, taking a seat in a tall armchair by the window.
"Doesn't bother me," he grunts in reply. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he's glaring at the floor, his chin trembling like he might cry again.
In the other armchair Angelina clears her throat and speaks up. "Who was that guy who drove us here?"
It takes me a moment to realize she's referring to Ashton.
"Oh. That's Finn Ashton. He's good. He worked with- my father," I explain. How much does Angelina know? Did HEXA tell her about PHIE?
As if in response to my thoughts, she nods her head and mouths, I know to me. I bite my tongue thinking about my father. There's no need to get sad about it. He died for a reason now. Not in some stupid car crash.
"What where is Ashton?" I ask, looking around for his tall, brooding figure.
"He left, took the HEXA car with him," says Guad, who's just walked in the room. "Said he had some work to do with PHIE. It looks like we and the project HEXA made with us gave them a lot of complications. It's like that man in the maze in Colombia said." My friend is wearing an outfit that obviously doesn't belong to him. He's rolled up the button down sleeves to hide the fact that they won't come down his whole arm (and that they belong to someone 4 years younger). The gray jeans he wears don't exactly cover his whole leg either.
But the thing that surprises me most about Guad's appearance is how clean he is. I'm sure you don't get many options to shower being homeless and it certainly shows in the clear view of Guad's deeply toned skin and slicked back long hair. For a strange moment I even find him handsome.
"What do you mean Ashton left?" I ask.
Guad fiddles with a small silver tube. "I mean he took the car and left. He talked to me, told me about those complications we made. Did not talk about how we saved his life though. He told me he could get Bob and me papers to make us legal citizens."
"Well that's good!" I tell him, trying to sound bright.
I want to ask what his strange metal tube is, but don't. No one seems to be in a talking mood right now.
"Hey, guys!"
And then Bob walks in.
He's limping on his scalded feet that are wrapped in medical tape. He's wincing from the burns spread across his body but his smile is as bright as can be.
Perry's clothes fit him much better than they do Guad and he proudly wears a polo shirt and dark jeans. It's the first time I've seen him dressed normally in 8 years.
"Don't hurt your feet!" I exclaim, leaping forward to help him to my chair.
He looks at me privately as I sit him down. Gripping my arm and pulling me close he doesn't look so happy. "I'm trying to walk by myself so I can feel strong," he whispers. "HEXA captured me and tortured me again so please let me at least pretend I'm okay?"
Louder to where others can hear, and before I can reply, he says, "It's alright, Janis. I'm fine."
I don't say anything to him about his comment because of the sheer depression it holds. He's reached the point that he has to pretend he's okay, because he knows he isn't. I feel like we all have to some extent, but we can't be as scarred as him. He was trapped in that HEXA facility 4 years ago, tested on by the will of his own mom and dad. They gave him scars and burns, leaving his entire chest disfigured. He was only 14. Now he's 18 and they took him again. To the same facility and tortured him. I can only imagine how he felt in those same halls he spent 3 and a half years trying to get out of his mind.
No wonder he needs some way to feel okay.
We wait for Alice for a few more minutes until-
"We should live together!" she yells, bursting into the room.
I jump, she's never suggested something so abruptly, especially something so important. She's never as much as chosen to go out for food without planning several days ahead.
Perry looks awake for the first time in hours. "You want to stay here? No Wyoming?" He bites his tongue as he talks and I want to laugh, but I'm not allowed. He's just lost his entire family.
"Live in Sacramento? In one house?" asks Guad. He looks, however, as if this isn't super big news. As far as I know he hasn't lived in a house for 10 years.
My sister nods and glances to where I stand by the window for my approval, even though she knows I'll always support her. And why would I want to return to Wyoming? The foster family we're with was going to pass us on to someone else this fall anyways. We've moved from house to house, school to school. The only thing that stayed constant was us. But it wouldn't have to be that way if we lived with the squad. We could finish our schooling here. And we already know how to take care of ourselves: we've been doing that since Dad died.
"Of course!" I agree. The idea almost sounds glorious now. Us managing ourselves, living off inheritance and our own jobs. Finally being free from HEXA.
One by one, every member of the squad nods, Perry with the first look of hope since Diana.
Angelina, folding her arms, stands up quietly. Attentive, we each look to her.
"If it's all the same to you, I have a home. And I'd really like to return to it and my parents."
Being the horrible person I am, I've forgotten Angelina's parents are uninvolved and still alive.
"I'll drive you home," Perry offers instantly. He pushes himself up off the couch and I want to argue that he's not exactly in a good state for driving. But I have a feeling he'll break down if I do.
The blond boy walks with the redhead to the kitchen and grabs his keys from the counter, as if it's a normal day and he's just going down to the store.
"Perry-" Alice begins. I look her in the eyes across the room. Don't, I tap on my leg. This of our symbols is easier to make out with sight because it's not in Morse. She nods and I know she's gotten it.
The rest of us, Bob, Guad, Alice, and I sit and stand solemnly. This isn't our apartment. This belongs to a dead girl and a broken boy.
"What's next?" asks Guad. His voice and accent are soft, as if he's afraid what he's saying is too dangerous.
Alice sighs and says, looking out the door Perry left, "We go and find our new home."