Demitria Lunetta - In the End

And that’s what I should do again now—run. Run to my cell and lock the door. I know where Tank and Pete are now; it would be easy to avoid them. But then what? Live in constant fear? I scan the Yard for either of them, but they’re out of my line of vision. I tense my body up, ready to bolt for Cellblock B. Then:

“It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like she has a lot of places to hide.”

“But we can’t do it when Jacks is around,” Pete croaks. “He says . . .”

I pull the hood down lower over my face and walk outside, heading in the direction of their conversation. Maybe their attack was motivated by something more than Tank’s bloodlust.

“Well, doing it when Jacks isn’t around is going to be tough. She’s always with him or in their cell.”

“But that’s how Doc wants it,” Pete insists. “When she’s alone. He said the Warden will have our asses if sumpthun’ happens to his nephew.”

Spotting them across the Yard, I duck behind a trampled tent, my heart racing. So Doc wants me dead. Is it because I found out about the testing and he thinks I’ll tell everyone? Or is this coming from New Hope, from Dr. Reynolds? Or from Ken?

I peek out behind the tent and see Tank and Pete still walking, their backs to me. They haven’t seen me, so I continue to trail them. It looks like they’re headed for the front wall, to the guards’ quarters.

“Doc also said to get it done by the end of the day,” Tank says, “but that ain’t gonna happen.”

Pete looks up at Tank, giving a panicked little hop as he hurries to keep up with him. “What are we gonna do? Doc’s gonna be pissed. You saw him angry, what he done to Freddy that one time.”

“I saw him.”

“Made him into a damn Florae !” Pete shouts.

“I said I saw him. Shut the hell up.” Tank looks around. “Everybody in this place is going crazy ’cause they think one of those things got inside, and you’re gonna go around shouting about what we saw Doc do?”

That’s what Doc meant when he said sometimes he had to “create an opportunity” to test the vaccine. Poor Jacks. He has no idea what kind of monster his father actually is.

Pete nods. They’re almost at the wall. “I know, I know. Sorry. But if we don’t make this happen, we’re the ones gonna end up dead.”

“It’ll happen. Trust me. When Doc came to us and told us what he wanted done, I thought it was my damn birthday! I ain’t gonna let that little bitch slip through my fingers,” Tank assures him.

He opens the door and nearly collides with the Warden. “Oh, sorry, boss.”

“It’s all right.” The Warden steps out. “Did you boys take care of that thang yet?”

“Oh no, not yet, boss. But don’t worry. I’ll get it done,” Tank says before they disappear through the door in the wall.

The Warden sighs and mutters, “Useless,” before continuing on his way. He’s heading straight for me, so I duck behind some cardboard boxes, crouching low, hoping I look like one of the helpless masses from the Yard.

I peek around the box to find the Warden continuing toward me, and I pull my hood down low. He pauses a few feet away from me. My body thrums with fear.

“Did you,” his voice booms across the Yard, “just spit on my boot?”

“No, boss,” comes a frail voice. “I didn’t see you was standing there.”

“You didn’t see me?” the Warden asks, pulling the man up by his raggedy shirt. He’s so painfully thin, he shakes in the Warden’s grasp. “Or you didn’t spit on my boot?”

“I . . . I don’t . . . know,” the man stutters out a reply.

“Well, then, clean ’em.” The Warden pushes the man to the ground. A crowd has gathered now, and everyone is staring and laughing at the unfortunate man singled out by the Warden.

“Clean ’em good,” someone calls.

He tries to wipe the Warden’s boot with what’s left of his shirt, but someone else yells, “Spit-shine ’em!”

The Warden laughs and glances around the crowd. I realize this is all for their benefit, to assert his dominance. To put on a show, a spectacle. New Hope was about hiding the bad away from its citizens. Fort Black puts it all on display and lets the people lap it up.

“Spit-shine!” the Warden calls. “Maybe that’s what he was trying to do! I like the sound of that. You, lick my boot clean.”

My stomach drops at the humiliation the man is suffering at the hands of the Warden. Only a coward would treat such a harmless man so cruelly. The man reaches out his tongue and touches it to the Warden’s boot. The crowd erupts in shouts and clapping, laughing at the man’s embarrassment. The Warden pulls his foot away and uses it to kick the man aside. Still laughing, he walks through the crowd, which parts out of his way.

I stare after him for just a moment before I disperse with the crowd and hurry back to Cellblock B. Whether Doc has told Dr. Reynolds I’m here, he wants me dead. Even the Warden is behind him. I guess they realized I wasn’t as good a companion for Jacks as they’d hoped. I should have known they’d want to get rid of me after exposing Jacks to the truth.

My decision’s made. Fort Black isn’t safe for me anymore, if it ever was. Ken’s promise of information isn’t enough to make me stay. I need to get my pack and find Jacks.

When I get back to our cell, though, Jacks isn’t there. I don’t have time to wait for him. I grab a piece of sketch paper and a pencil. A note will have to be good enough.

I’m still staring at the blank paper, unsure of how to say good-bye, when Brenna appears in the doorway. “Jacks here?”

“No. I . . .”

Brenna takes in my wild eyes, the pack on my back. “What’s up, Amy?”

“It looks like I have to leave.”

She blinks at me. “For good?”

I nod. “I think so.”

“Where you going?”

It’s probably better for her if she doesn’t know. “Pretty far away. I guess I’m glad I at least have my bike.”

“I know where there’s a car lot and a mechanic’s shop out there,” she tells me. “I heard Dwayne bragging about it. Maybe we can get you a car.”

“A car won’t be hard to find. There are a million out there, just rusting away.”

“Yeah, finding a car ain’t the problem. . . . It’s finding a car with gas. The Scrappers have sucked all the ones around here dry.”

My eyes widen. I hadn’t even thought about the lack of gas. “Oh, Brenna. You mean you know where to find a working car? That would be amazing. Can you tell me where that lot is?”

“I can take you there. When do you want to leave?”

“Right now.” A car would be a game changer. But I can’t put Brenna in danger. “Do you know how to survive out there?”

“Sure. You know, I used to be a Scrapper. I make a better living at the fights, though. I’ll show you where it is. I’m real good at being quiet, when I have to be.”

“We don’t have to be quiet. I have a gadget that scares off the Floraes.” Immediately I know I’ve said too much. I’m not thinking—or really, I’m thinking of something else, what to write to Jacks.

Brenna is silent for a couple of seconds. “Are you serious?” she asks slowly, her brow furrowed skeptically.

I don’t answer right away. I feel like smacking myself. How could I be so careless? If word gets out about the advantages I have, I’ll be dead within a day. Though it hardly matters now; I’m leaving Fort Black for good. Who cares if Brenna blabs when she gets back? “Yes, I . . . You won’t say anything to anyone, will you?”

She takes another step closer. “Really? Like I’m gonna tell anyone,” she says with a roll of her eyes. I look her in the face, and I believe her. I have to. “Amy, that has to be the most valuable thing in Fort Black. Hell, on the whole planet.”