I stand slowly, staring at the black screen.
How do I even deal with everything I've just learned?
The lock clicks behind me, and with a rush of air the door slides open. Spinning around, I come face to face with Hartley, who has a gun pressed to Isaac's temple.
"Hello, precious," Hartley says, smiling, "Have you finished watching your movie?" I don't answer, stepping backwards towards the glass door. "It's a rhetorical question. I know you finished. Isaac and I were watching from the next room."
Isaac is still, his chest barely moving as he grits his teeth. Even from here I can see his jaw clenching. His hands are held behind him by Hartley. The man must've snuck up on him, because I can't see Isaac being cornered into this situation.
The door shuts behind them.
I feel around behind me, the cool glass of the door meeting my open palm. My hands move down, and I find the keypad.
"Now that you know what happens to people who fight back," Hartley says, pressing the gun into Isaac's skull, "It's time to meet your consequences."
He pulls the gun away from Isaac, pointing it towards me.
"Any last words?"
My fingers are poised on the keypad, feeling the outline of the numbers behind my back.
It was Mandy's birthday last time. It won't be the same number.
Taking into account what I just learned, maybe my father is still on my side. I can see those cuffs on his hands still, hear the desperation in his voice as he tries to convince me that there was no other option. He gave us the cure to protect us. The virus wasn't his decision. He was forced into making it.
Maybe he's still trying to help me, in his own way.
"Yeah, Hartley, I do," I say, biting my lip. Hartley raises his eyebrows, nodding. "When's my birthday?"
A look of confusion crosses his face, and my fingers are already typing the date in.
"How in the world would I know that?" he asks, scowling at me.
I look at Isaac, who looks just as confused.
Neither of them know it. That means, if I'm right about the code, they can't get in behind me.
"You don't need to know," I mutter, pressing the last key.
12022013.
The lock clicks behind me, and I turn the handle, ducking into the room as Hartley fires, the bullet hitting the door frame when I slam the door behind me. Hartley tosses Isaac to the ground, running to the door. He shakes the handle violently, his face turning red in anger. Slamming his fists against the glass, he glares at me.
"What's the code?" he asks, voice muffled through the glass.
"When's my birthday?" I reply, smirking.
"I don't know!"
"That's the code."
He explodes, hitting the glass with his fists. In fury, he turns on Isaac, pointing the gun towards him.
"When's her birthday, Montez?" he shouts, and I press both hands against the glass.
"I don't know," Isaac says, his voice cracking. His eyes dart between me and the gun, fear in them. It's the same sort of fear I saw the night in the basement, and I begin to feel sick.
"You're telling me you have no idea?"
Isaac shakes his head violently, strands of hair falling out of his bun.
A gunshot sounds, and I clench my eyes closed, chills creeping up my spine. When I look again, Isaac is holding his leg, face twisted in pain. His eyes are closed; blood trickles onto the white tile.
"Stop!" I scream, hitting the glass to get Hartley's attention.
"Then, come out," he says, not looking at me.
"No!"
Another gunshot echoes through the room, and Isaac cries out, pulling his leg up closer to him. The blood seems to be coming from his foot this time.
I watch breathlessly, holding the door handle. Isaac finally looks up at me, his hands shaking on his leg.
"Go," he mouths, tears running down his face. I suck in air, beginning to cry. I shake my head.
"Jaelyn Price, go!" he screams.
Hartley is watching me, his gun shaking in his hand. I've never seen such fury before. He taps the watch on his wrist.
"Every five minutes you're over there, I waste another bullet on him," he says, holding his gun up. "I'll start on his limbs, working from the outside in. He'll feel every minute of his death, and you'll hear him screaming."
I feel like I might throw up. Tears still streaming down my face, I step away from the door.
I have to do this. Everyone is counting on me.
"You'll be responsible for his death," Hartley continues.
I shake my head, walking backwards away from the door.
"No," I whisper to myself, "You will be."
With that, I turn, sprinting towards the back of the room. There's a computer set up with another hand scanner on the screen. Hurriedly, I press my sweaty hand against it, and the screen comes to life.
There is only one file on this screen. It is labeled "Instructions". I tap it, cracking my knuckles as it loads.
Jay:
Congratulations on breaking into the inner room. By now, maybe you've realized I'm on your side. I just wasn't able to be openly on your side. He's always listening, and I'm contractually obligated to do everything he says. He has his ways of controlling me. To this day, though, I'm still protecting you.
But, now you're here. You have to destroy the second strand.
The key to destroying the second strand of the virus is to contaminate it. You can do that by injecting the cure into the tubes of the virus. Each container has a tube leading from the top to the ceiling. The material of the tubes is soft plastic, which can be easily pierced by a syringe. You can get the cure from Room 403 and bring it over.
I have confidence in you,
-Dad
Staring at the screen blankly, I realize the full depth of the mistake I made earlier in the night. I can't inject the cure into the tubes, because there's no cure left.
I tap the red 'x' in the corner of the document I opened, looking around the screen for another file. Nothing. There is no plan b. This is the only option I have. Glancing back at the door, I clutch the sides of my head, pulling at my hair.
Every second I waste is another bullet.
I pace the floor.
Where would I get more of the cure? I can't leave this room and look for some. It has to be within these four walls.
Wait.
I stop pacing, looking down at myself.
The cure is inside of me. I have what's left of the cure.
I grab for the white box attached to the wall that has a red cross on it. Inside, there's different medical supplies. I toss out gauze, antibacterial solution, burn cream, rubber gloves. Finally, I find the tourniquet and a syringe, sealed away in a plastic bag.
When I was in job training, one of the requirements was first aid training, in case of an emergency. I can do basic CPR, and I can inject medicine with a needle if I have to. Yet, I've never drawn blood. I'm not sure I can. I watched a video on it, but that's all.
I tie the tourniquet on my upper arm, watching the veins protrude out of my arm.
A gunshot echoes around the room, following by an ear piercing scream. I can't look at the door. On the other side, Isaac is being tortured.
Yet, I can't leave.
I have to finish this.
I pull the packaging apart on the syringe with my teeth, spitting it out as I position the huge needle against my skin. Seeing it out in the open makes me light headed. Taking a deep breath, I brace myself and push. It hurts, much more than a bee sting, and I fight against closing my eyes against the pain. Blood trickles down my arm, but it also pulls up into the open air in the syringe. I grit my teeth and draw more out, watching the thick red liquid fill the empty space.
After a second, it's full, and I quickly draw the needle back out, stomping my foot hard against the floor. If putting it in was hard, drawing it out is even harder. With my good hand, I dig through the box for a cloth or something. Finding a cotton pad, I raise my arm over my head and apply pressure. Bleeding myself out wouldn't do anyone any good.
Still gritting my teeth, I start to circle the room, injecting a little bit of my own blood into the soft tubes that extend out of the top of the containers. When the drops of blood meet the blue liquid inside, they turn green, spreading like clouds. The blue liquid bubbles up, rising to the top of the container.
I watch the first one as the entire tube turns green. The foam takes over, and when it dissipates, the liquid is yellow and steaming. Then, I move on to the next one, until I have to stop and draw more blood, making an even bigger mess of my arm. I have to do this several times. Blood is running down my forearm before I get to the end of the room, leaving a trail on the white floor.
If I heard another gunshot, I wouldn't have known. Everything is fuzzy, and I struggle to stand up straight as I finish injecting the last tube. After it's yellow, I stumble back to the glass door, typing in the passcode and falling through it.
"You," Hartley growls through his teeth, "You actually managed to destroy the second strand. I'll have your head on a plate. No one will ever know what happened in this room."
Hartley jerks me up by my hair before I can even recover from the fall. I peel my eyes open, seeing Isaac, passed out cold in a pool of his own blood. The breath leaves me, and I gasp wildly for air.
"No," I say, fighting against Hartley's grip. My voices rises as I repeat that one word, sliding around in Isaac's blood as I try to scramble away.
"Guards!" Hartley yells into a walkie talkie, and the door slides open again.
Hartley jerks me to my feet, tossing me at one of the guards. He catches me, and before I can even think about pushing away, I'm cuffed again. My eyes never leave Isaac, who hasn't moved an inch.
The idea of him being dead makes me furious and helpless, frozen and scared.
"Take her to the psych ward. Lock her up in solitary, where she should have been to begin with," Hartley says, pushing Isaac's head with his foot. "And this one... Take him for disposal."
They drag me out screaming, begging, and crying, and all I can do is watch as two guards pick Isaac up and disappear with him.