The manacles clink shut around my wrists. I wait patiently as a Whitecoat secures me to the wall of my cell. The chains are shiny replacements for the ones I broke a while back. These shackles aren't bad, actually, no scratchy rust, no bloodstains. The Redcoat finishes locking me in and gives me a small, encouraging smile. Another 'coat stands in the door, arms crossed over his chest. Normally there's only one 'coat, but the smiley one is on probation, I think. Allegedly for helping two Experiments' get married. It was a big deal, Maverick told Elle all about it and of course Elle told me a couple dozen times.
The cell door clicks shut behind the Whitecoat, cutting off light from the hall. I stretch and listen to every bone in my back pop. Today was an exhausting one but at least I got to visit Elle. It makes me antsy when I'm not allowed to see her, it feels like I'm not doing enough. Or worse, that she's faded away for good and they're not telling me because if they do, they'd have to kill me, too.
I slide my back down the wall to sit on the cold floor. A faint light from the small, barred window set in the door illuminates most of the cell. There's not much in here, just a single dresser, bolted to the floor and wall. Its drawers hold three sets of the same grey tank tops, and sweatpants, plus two sweaters for cold days. Resting on top of the dresser is a blue prescription bottle, half-full of oval pills. Savella, pain pills, for the fibromyalgia the Whitecoats triggered when they experimented on me.
They only kind of work but without them, I'd be neck-deep in agony and muscle spasms before the night is up. As if to tease me, a pinprick needles my chest. It's a bad night, then. I lean my head against the wall and squinch my eyes shut. The chains keeping me pinned to the wall are too short, I can't reach the pill bottle from here, and I can't risk getting in trouble for breaking another set of restraints. Especially not after what happened with Dieter. I suck in a huge breath, ignoring the twinge it sets off, and hold it.
Since I'm going to be curled in an agonized ball in a few hours, I might as well get some shut-eye now. I let the breath out all at once and shift to a more comfortable position. It doesn't take too long for me to drift off into a dreamless swirl of unconsciousness.
I wake up to the awful sensation of a chainsaw ripping through my chest. I gasp and make the mistake of bolting upright. Glass shards stab into my back, all along my spine, and thick hot metal bands tighten around my chest. Something akin to a white-hot iron burrows deep in my torso, and the manacles that were mere annoyances early are a sudden, bruising pressure on my wrists.
Don't fight it, don't fight it, don't fight it.
The mantra repeats in my head. The tenser I get, the worse this will be. I force my shoulders to relax, even though it puts that much more weight on my aching wrists. Sweat beads on my temples and nausea swirls at the back of my throat: Withdrawal on top of returning symptoms.
Slowly, slowly, I ease myself up to relieve some of the pressure. Despite my best efforts, the glass burrows deeper into my skin. I tip my chin up slightly, hoping that will help, and that's when I finally notice that it's no longer pitch dark in the cell. The emergency lights are on, bathing the room in an eerie blood red. Puzzled, my eyes flit to the door like it can give me answers. As if on cue it bursts open and crashes into the adjacent stone wall, and all at once an ear-piercing, keening tone floods the cell.
"Why are you still in here?" An angry Maverick storms in. He stalks over to me and makes like he's about to jerk on my chains, but his hand stops halfway, and he pulls back sharply. He must have got a wave of the pain.
"I just woke up." I have to shout to be heard above the high-pitched shriek. I clamber to my feet, grinding my teeth hard against the wave of dizzying pain that shoots from my neck right down through the soles of my feet.
"You slept through fifteen minutes of this racket?" Maverick spins on his heels and strides across the room to snatch up the bottle of pain pills.
"Speaker in here must be out, 'cause that could wake the dead."
Last time those alarms went off, three years ago, a pyrokinetic had nova'd her cell block. Kinetics, very occasionally, go nuclear. Normally a 'coat catches it and puts an end to them before it can get this far, but this time is different. Something must have gone wrong. This time Mac is dragging me out of my cell instead of a Redcoat.
Out of nowhere, the ground shudders, knocking us all to our knees. Plaster dust rains from the ceiling.
"King, help him." Maverick motions to me around a volley of coughs. King, a short black guy, who I recognize but don't know anything about, steps through the door towards me.
"I got it." I wave him off.
"Listen, I gotta make sure nobody else was stupid enough to stick around in here. Grab what you can and meet us out by the court ASAP," Maverick instructs, setting the pill bottle and something else back on the dresser.
"Will do."
He leaves, King on his heels. Not wasting a second, I wrap the chain around my arm, pause as the chainsaw punches through me again, and give a good hard yank. The bolt comes free of the stone wall and in a matter of seconds, I am chainless. I stumble across the cell to the dresser. Two pills rest beside the bottle. That must be the second thing Maverick set down. I pop them in my mouth and dry swallow. Unfortunately, their effect is not immediate, but I don't have time to waste. I open the top drawer and fish out a sweater. I pull the sweater over my head, grab the pill bottle, and shove it in my pocket. After that, I grab an extra shirt, pants, and the last sweater. Whatever is happening, I want Elle with me, and it's bound to be cold outside.
Tucking the extra clothes down my sweater, I jog out into the hall. My leg joints scream in pain as I run down the corridors of Block Three. The alarm blares like a scalpel in my eardrums, and the emergency lights give everything an ominous glow. Another blast rocks the building, sending me crashing into the wall. A scream echoes from one corridor. I make the executive decision not to go see who caused it.
A shadow appears on the wall, and I snap up straight. My right foot slides back a couple inches for better balance. Sure enough, the shadow belongs to a Redcoat. But he barrels past me, shouting something into a walkie-talkie, wielding a shiny black stick. I don't even think he registers that I'm here.
What the hell is going on?
I continue down the hallway, keeping my eyes peeled for other Redcoats and Whitecoats. The blocks aren't particularly big, so it doesn't take long to reach the exit. The door is gaping. Flickering orange light and distant shouting filters in from outside. I sidle up beside the opening and peek out, checking the area for any Redcoats that might take offense to me being out of my cell. The chilly wind nips at my ears and sends shivers down my back.
The Compound is in chaos. Fires are blazing, flames lick three walls of the mess hall. Scorched patches and the fallen forms of Redcoats and Experiments dot the ground. And the fence is broken. Experiments bottleneck the crude hole, Redcoats buzzing around them like flies, darting in and clubbing down an experiment where they can, but it's not slowing the flow. There aren't enough Redcoats to stop them. Where are the rest of the Redcoats? I sneak out of Block Three and skirt along the outside wall. The Infirmary is on the far end of the yard.
The deafening roar of a gun going off cracks the air, and a cluster of fist-sized balls fly over the heads of scurrying guards. One lands in front of the mess hall as another clinks to the ground near Block Four.
The next moment has me skidding to a dead halt. A blinding light flashes, and I throw up my arms to shield my face. That was not a Kinetic. When I lower them, my lungs seize in my chest. The Compound has gone up in a fireball. The heatwave hits me at the same time as a great boom shatters my eardrums. I'm bowled over by the sheer force of the explosion. When it's past, I am left floundering, deaf, with a sickening feeling taking hold of my stomach.
"Elle!" The scream rips from my throat. I can't hear it over the ringing in my ears, but I can feel it scrape on the way out. I shoot to my feet, ready to sprint the rest of the way to the infirmary. Maverick is there suddenly. He and King grab me by the arms, holding me back. They're dragging me away. Maverick is trying to say something, I can see his lips moving, but I can't hear it. I have to get to Elle. I have to.
"She's gone!" Maverick's voice breaks through the ringing. He's wrong. The Infirmary is the farthest building from what I can now see was ground zero. It's still standing. It's also on fire. With a heave, I throw both King and Maverick off. They go flying, ten feet in either direction, and before they have time to recover I take off.
I pelt past still-burning building shells and charred remains of things I don't want to think about. The heat from all of the newly spawned fires is suffocating. Black smoke dries my throat and makes my eyes water. The mess hall is gone, and Block Two, Three, and Four haven't fared much better. As I reach the path leading to the front entrance of the Infirmary, my heart sinks. A blaze has engulfed the entire front entrance. There is no way inside.
No no no!
"Elle!" I call, desperate.
"Hendrix!" The cry is weak.
I whip towards the sound, my eyes searching. I find nothing. Then, miraculously, Elle materializes to my left. I run to her, scoop her up in my arms. Her matchstick limbs wrap around my neck, and she holds on tight. She's alive. Now we can run. I cradle her carefully and turn on my toes to sprint back to the basketball court. I can see Maverick's blurry shape through the smoky haze. Halfway across the yard, one of the round things clinks to the ground and rolls between my legs. Elle cries out, and I have only a moment to drop and cover as much of her frail body as possible before the explosion.
***
"Help me with him."
"And the girl?"
"Did you not just see what he did?"
A few sentences slip through the renewed ringing in my ears, but most get lost under a thick blur of pain. I think my back has been melted off. Hands hook under my prone shoulders and pull me to my feet. I can't suppress a cry at the wave of pain. I also can't see.
"Come on, man, you gotta stay with me, okay? I can't carry you."
My arms are empty. Where's Elle? Where is she? I had her, where did she go? I don't have to speak for Maverick to know what I'm asking.
"Chastin has her, she's fine." Maverick pulls me forward. I stumble. I can't see a damn thing. The scent of burning flesh clogs my throat, and searing pain ripples across my back at every step. Regardless, I clutch Maverick's steadying arm and break into a run for the millionth time this night. Thick smoke clogs the air and screams pierce the sky, overshadowed only by the pop of gunfire. Suddenly a familiar weight settles on the bridge of my nose, and my vision clears. With all the smoke it doesn't help much, but at least the silhouettes ahead are easier to see.
"Almost forgot those." Maverick remarks. Now that my glasses are back, I can see that we've made it past the fence, and we're bolting for the hills. There isn't a lot of coverage here, mostly sparse trees and the dark of night. Somehow, I doubt that the Redcoats are coming after us.
"Thanks," I rasp. My throat is raw.
"Save it." He keeps his arm around my lower back, a support that is the only thing keeping me upright.
The Compound becomes a red-orange beacon behind us. We slow to a jog when we realize no one is giving chase, whoever blew the Compound open is holding up all their personnel. Still, we keep going and going and going until even the fittest of us is gasping for breath. And then we slow again, to as brisk a walk as we can manage. We have to put as much distance as possible between us and the Compound, or else this entire escapade will be null and void. The Whitecoats will make us null and void.
When at last we come to a full and final stop, the Compound is a mere flicker behind us. The air out here should be clear of smoke, but the faint, choking scent clings to our skin. We stand at the base of a shallow rise the crescent moon is beginning its descent to the western horizon, but the sky has yet to start lightening. I almost choke at the sight of someone lingering at the top of the ridge. Then Maverick waves at the lingerer and they return the gesture.
Maverick guides me to a boulder jutting from the side of the rocky foothill and makes me sit. The world tips on its axis. I grind my teeth and clench my fists, but that does little to ease the pain.
"Chastin." Maverick beckons to the guy holding Elle. When he treads forward with Elle still on his back, Maverick shakes his head.
"Leave her with Delilah for a moment. She doesn't need to see this."
'This' I assume means the awful state of my back. I don't have to look at it to know it's a mess. Chastin shrugs Elle off and leads her by the hand to a woman who smiles sweetly and bends down on one knee to talk with her. Maverick paces around the rock, examining the damage.
"Can you get your sweater off?" he asks. I'm surprised I still have a sweater. The whole way here drafts of wind at my shoulders sent chills down my arms. I tug on the sleeves and am met with instant pain. My fingers seize, a spasm rocks up my shoulder. I bite down hard on a groan. Mav whistles.
"Okay. Don't worry, it looks like the heat fused what's left of the sweater to your back."
"Don't worry?" I hiss. Yeah, I have sweaters melted onto my skin every day. No big deal! I push my glasses up my face, fighting to stay in control of my racing thoughts.
"Chastin is going to ice the burn, and I'm going to peel the sweater off, got it?" Chastin steps up to the boulder, the fingers of his right-hand dancing. Tiny snowflakes float to the ground from his hand. So Chastin is a cryokinetic. Nice to know. As he traces the edges of my burn, deep, numbing frozenness follows the path his fingers make.
"Brace yourself, Trick, this'll hurt," Mav warns, then he peels my sweater off, along with what I'm sure is most of my remaining skin.
Hurt is the understatement of the century.
They get the sweater off, and Chastin gives my burn a final numbing. Maverick rips up what's left of the sweater and uses the strips as a crude bandage. By the time he's done, I've contracted a bad case of shivers. The tank top I grabbed earlier goes on, and Mav hands me the extra sweater too. I protest, that sweater is for Elle. She'll be cold. Mav makes me put it on anyways, and since I can't think in a straight line, let alone argue my case, I go along with it. Then, and only then, does Maverick let Elle come near me.
The woman from earlier brings her over. Ellecrawls into my lap, safe and sound. I wrap my arms around her and rest my chinon her frizzy hair. At thirteen, she weighs less than most ten-year-olds.Chastin rises from his resting place at the foot of the boulder to join the woman.They wander a few paces away to settle down for the night. Far in the distance,explosions pop. With the sky is hinting that morning is around the corner, Islump. The little horns on Elle's back dig into my torso, but I don't mind. Ina matter of minutes, I tumble headlong into an exhausted sleep.