Kristen Simmons: Article 5

“What the hell are you doing?” she cried.

“Shut up!” I ordered, praying no one had heard us. Chase was sitting up now, blinking rapidly. He still looked ill—and more shocked than Delilah.

“Here.” I shoved the gun into his hand. He aimed it at Delilah. She bared her teeth at him. I saw his hand tremble slightly but knew it wasn’t from physical pain. The last woman he’d held a gun to had been my mother.

“Sorry, Delilah,” I told her as I shoved a clean rag into her mouth. “But there is something out there for me.”

As quickly as I could, I tore the tattered rags to strips and fastened her wrists around the metal bed frame. She didn’t struggle, clear eyes glued on Chase. I slipped the key over her head and pressed it firmly in my fist. My heart felt as if it were going to explode in my chest. If it did, I hoped it killed me before the MM did.

Then I eased Chase back to the bed, away from Delilah, and returned the gun to its hiding place in my dress.

“I must have gotten hit harder than I thought,” Chase said, with the confusion of someone waking from a coma. “How did you get in here? Who is she? And where did that gun come from?” The heels of his hands were pressed against his temples.

“I’ll explain later. For right now, stay here.”

“I’m going with you,” he said.

I shook my head. His jaw tightened.

Don’t fight me, Chase.

I knew he felt as I had so many times on this journey. Completely out of control. Completely reliant. Maybe he realized how I felt now, too, because he didn’t argue, he didn’t fight. He just looked up at me and whispered, “Please be careful.”

A moment later the door locked behind me.

The hallway was eerily quiet, without even the shuffle of the guard around the far corner at the stairs. He was there, I knew, just silent. The guard on rotation would be coming around any second.

Nerves chewed my insides and made my skin tingle. Every step I took felt like walking on a bed of nails. I figured I was losing my mind. It was the only reasonable explanation for my actions.

Before anything else, I grabbed the clipboard outside Chase’s cell. I ripped the pen from its hanging cord and in large letters scribbled what had been written on the other soldiers’ charts.

COMPLETE.

One steadying breath, to find that emotionless calm from before Chase had come, and I returned to my task.

I used Delilah’s key to open the storage room and rolled a cart into the hallway. One of the wheels rattled and flicked awkwardly to the side. I stared furiously at the defective piece, as though this would somehow silence it.

I had just reached Chase’s cell when I heard the clicking of footsteps again.

My body became paralyzed.

A guard with dark skin and a permanent frown came around the corner.

“Good morning,” I said too cheerily.

“What are you doing out?” He looked down the empty hallway.

“Delilah… she came early,” I stammered.

“Where is she?”

“Still cleaning up the suicide in cell two. She told me to wait here.”

“Why here?”

Several swear words tore through my brain.

“To take out the trash,” I answered, quoting Delilah.

The soldier looked at Chase’s chart. His furrowed brows smoothed.

“I guess they blew off the trial. Figures. He didn’t deserve one.”

“Oh no?” Please just leave!

“No. There are bad people in the world. He’s one of them.” He said this as though he were a father talking to his daughter about stranger danger. I thought about where I would shoot him if I pulled the gun.

I tried to look frightened. “Well, I’d better get to it.”

He turned on his heels without another word and did not look back.

Only thirty minutes until the next rotation.

My hands shook so hard I could barely fit the key in the lock. The doubt clawed at me, but I shoved it aside. I would not let Chase down.

I reopened his cell. He was standing inside, the stress still evident through his swollen features. I was careful to make sure the lock did not click behind me. Delilah’s cheeks were stained red with fury.

“Who was that?” Chase whispered.

“Just a guard.” I positioned the cart against the wall. “Get in.”

As I explained the plan, his countenance grew grim.

“And if you get caught? I can’t live with that.”

“You won’t have to for long,” I said morosely, glancing at Delilah, still bound and gagged. The guilt made my stomach burn. “It’s both of us or neither of us.”

His hand scratched through his hair.

“Don’t you see?” I argued. “We have to do something! So this doesn’t happen to anyone else!” He knew what I meant by this. What had happened to my mother. To us.

He swallowed. And very slowly nodded.

We were going to try to escape an MM base.

I didn’t think about it too long. If I did, the impossibility of it would overwhelm me.

I had to help Chase. He had difficulty bending; I suspected a few ribs may have been broken. He sat on the bottom of the cart, his knees pulled to his chest, his head locked down.

“If I hear things go south, I won’t stay hidden.”

I didn’t say anything and closed the lid over his head. One final nod to Delilah was all the time we could afford.

I shoved my shoulder into the cart, rocking it with effort until it rolled into the empty hallway. Every sense vigilant, I made for the elevator. I could hear my heart slamming in my eardrums and the screaming rattle of that stupid wheel as my trembling finger pressed the button. The freight elevator doors made a loud clanging noise as they opened. Did they always do that? I scanned the hallway. Still nothing.

Leaning into the cart, I pushed Chase inside.

The gears of the metal box squealed, then ground us inch by inch to the bottom floor. It took several steadying breaths to regain my focus.

The doors pulled open, revealing the dark, floor-level corridor where I had originally planned on leaving Delilah. Since this part of the building was not often used, the standardized power did not automatically kick on the lights here. I didn’t, either. I held my breath in the darkness, ignoring the frightening sounds and shapes I created in my mind, and took an immediate right. The utility door unlocked easily with my key. When the first breath of fresh air hit me, I felt renewed.

Yes. I could do this. I was doing this.

I had to plant my heels into the asphalt to push the cart down the narrow alley. Twenty more yards to the gate station. Fifteen. Ten.

The guard at post stuck his head outside.

No! Ignore me! That’s what you did yesterday!

“Where’s the old lady?” he asked. He had a chubby face and a dimple in the center of his chin.

“Sick, I think,” I responded. I prayed no one had found her yet.

“That old bat’s never sick.”

I shrugged.

“Early this morning for that, isn’t it?”

“They did it last night.” Please let me pass. Please let me pass.

He pressed the button, and the gate buzzed before dragging open.

We passed through. My heart was racing. I rounded the corner and began straining up the hill. I had to keep my arms locked straight on the handlebar so that I wouldn’t topple backward.

“We did it,” I whispered giddily between labored breaths. I knew he couldn’t hear me. That was okay. He would know soon enough.

Step after step I pushed him up the hill.

Finally we reached the top. I pulled the cart off into a hidden area beside the awning and checked the driveway and hilltop for movement. We were alone.

The metal cover fell open with a clang, and Chase lifted his head.