Chapter 14

Daisy pulled Zane and Joseph aside while Marcus and Mallory were busy admiring the tunnel that lay beneath the wooden racks. She grabbed them by the upper arm and led them over into one of the shooting range tunnels. She was forceful, tugging them along like toy wagons. Her shirt ruffled as she walked briskly into the long hallway before turning to face them.

"There's one small thing you forgot to mention that we need to take with us," she said to Zane, her eyes sparkling. Zane found it hard to differentiate her from the girl who ate a whole box of Froot Loops the other morning. She had intense mood swings so unexpectedly it was almost laughable.

"What's that?" Zane asked, admiring Joseph's outfit, which consisted of cream-colored shorts and an orange and white striped tee. Zane thought he looked great, but Zane thought that of practically every outfit Joseph wore. It was truly one of his weaknesses. And something he was unfamiliar with.

"Weapons, sweetie," Daisy said, pulling out the longest of her hunting knives. She softly caressed the blade, running her finger along the sharp blade. "You guys need weapons. Especially if Wawrzynski sends those soldiers after us." She glanced up at them, moving her eyes but not her head. Her ponytail fell to the side, covering half of her face. In irritation, she threw her head around, whipping her hair back into place. She blew a hair from her mouth and struggled to regain her composure.

"What about our powers?" Joseph asked uncertainly, looking at his hands mournfully. Zane knew the feeling. Wawryznski had referred to them as gifts, but to Zane they were nothing less than curses. He didn't ask for this power, he didn't want it, and he wished it could go away.

Daisy shook her head. "Too unstable," she said. The knife went back to her belt alongside the other two. "Besides, Wawrzynski may have a kill-switch. We know nothing about these powers. We need to have a backup form of protection." She picked up a pistol and offered it to Joseph. Adding that to the one Zane had on him, there was only one left.

Joseph took it with a mournful look at Zane. Zane knew Joseph didn't want to hurt anybody. He just wanted to get the hell out of there. Zane wished he could feel that way. It would make things so much easier. Instead he had to deal with the inner turmoil of releasing his former life.

When Daisy offered him the other one, Zane just lifted up his shirt to reveal the glint of steel against his pale skin. She shrugged and deposited it on the opposite side of her hunting knives. There was no need to leave any weapon of that caliber behind, and Daisy knew it.

"Now excuse me while I go and pack Froot Loops," She told them, a smile creeping across her face. Zane managed a laugh as she walked away. "Don't forget to grab the deer horn knives!" she hollered back. Zane rolled his eyes.

Joseph trailed him as he strode over to the rack and grabbed the knives. The metal ones. The sharp ones. He grabbed a weapon belt from nearby on one of the other racks and slipped the oddly-shaped knives on it. He muttered grim assurances to himself as he felt butterflies creep into his stomach before transforming into bees and stinging his insides.

He kept his hands reassuringly upon the knives as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to do this. For everybody's sake. To disperse the apprehensive thoughts, he recalled every negligent thing Wawryznski had done and every horrible memory about this place.

He remembered the day in Wawrzynski's office, sitting on a lawn chair, as the young man informed them that if their rebellious behavior continued, they would be turned in to the governors. He remembered the cell Joseph and he had been in for many days, and the multiple injections the doctors here had forced upon them. His rage boiled and the bees shrunk back into butterflies. He recalled Daisy's story of Marcus's personality bends, which were the cause of Wawrzynski running tests on him using unstable technology. His hands curled into fists as he thought of the photograph in Daisy's wallet, a symbol of everything she had been through.

He opened his eyes with a new sense of determination, an urge to free these teenagers from the horrible lives they led and let them start over. He would get them out.

Zane noticed that Joseph had not grabbed a staff, or anything. Zane cocked his head. Even he had grabbed the deer horn knives, though he doubted he had any intention to use them. Daisy had simply told him to, and she seemed to have extensive knowledge on dangerous weapons. "Do you think Wawrzynski wants us to escape?" Joseph asked, his gaze travelling over Zane.

It did seem very easy. Wawrzynski had given them practically everything they could need. The scabbards and weapon belts for transporting the weapons and, upon further examination, Zane could see various backpacks hidden amongst a rack of vicious blades.

"We have no choice," Zane said. "If we stay, we become weapons ourselves, things to be used," he answered, convincing himself as much as Joseph. "I don't want that to happen to you, or any of them." He gestured to the room.

"I'm having severe second thoughts, Zane," Joseph said, his hands trembling slightly as he wrung them furiously. "Severe." His eyes glistened with unshedded tears. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

Zane laid a hand upon his arm. "With any luck, we won't see anybody. We'll get into New Vancouver and find a way to get past the wall. After that, we'll be home free, Joseph." He tightened his grip slightly to assure both of them. "We can do this. Together."

Joseph nodded vigorously, his hands turning white from the viciousness with which he wrung them. Zane's eyebrows drew together, and he pried Joseph's hands apart. He held them softly in his own. "Don't worry," he said quietly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Joseph swept him into a hug. Zane heard him sniffle half-heartedly as he pressed his chin against Zane's shoulder. Zane embraced him back tightly. He knew that this was the final straw. Zane would not let Wawrzynski get away with anything else. If he could break Joseph, then he was truly too influential for his own good. He swore to himself he would do whatever it took to get Joseph out of there.

He could feel Joseph's gentle palm splayed against his lower back. The other was across Zane's shoulders. It was a friendly embrace, a reassuring embrace, a necessary embrace. "I believe you," he heard Joseph whisper into his ear. Zane smiled, knowing he had had some effect on Joseph's well-being.

Joseph did not let go of him for several minutes. They stayed there in a companionable silence, confirming each other's fears and apprehensions without any words at all. Zane enjoyed it.

Daisy strode into the room with one of the provided backpacks slung across her shoulders. It was bulging, Zane guessed with Froot Loops. She stopped in the doorway and rolled her eyes dramatically. She threw her arms wide. "What are you doing?" she yelled. "We have no time for canoodling!" She scoffed and dismissively waved them off.

"That's not what we-, you know what, never mind," Joseph said, whisking a backpack from one of the racks and exiting the room.

Daisy wiggled her eyebrows at Zane suggestively. "Nice work, lover boy," she said, swaying her hips.

"Oh, god," Zane said, rolling his eyes. He really did not want to have that conversation. He went for the backpacks, but Daisy barred his way. He moved to one side, but she mirrored his movement. He moved to the other side, but she still would not let him pass. "If there's no time for canoodling, there's no time for this."

"There's always time for this," Daisy said fiercely. "Tell me everything."

"No,"

"I'm your wingman. You're supposed to tell me everything."

"You're my wingman?"

"Self-appointed," she said proudly, puffing out her chest. He reached around her and snatched a backpack, which she indignantly shrieked at. She grabbed at it, but he moved it out of her reach. She frowned. "Don't forget that I can kick your ass." She placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrow.

"Fine," he said. She moved closer, her face inches from his. He leaned back. Her eyebrow was still raised. "If you keep doing that, it's gonna be stuck there."

"Smartass," she spat. "Tell me."

He sighed heavily. He told her about the night Joseph had made the blanket fort, but left out the part about his hand and the ace of spades. He told her about the conversation they'd had in the fort, and the words that had rendered him speechless. And then he told her about the hug and Joseph's reluctance to escape, to hurt somebody.

When he had finished, Daisy laughed. "He is so into you," she said, patting Zane on the shoulder hard enough that he cringed back. Her face hardened. "And he is so hot."

Despite the awkward conversation, Zane found himself grinning. "He's mine," he said forcefully. Daisy narrowed her eyes.

"I'm kidding," she said. "You can have him. Unlike all you horny teenagers, I don't need sex to feel good about myself." She laughed.

Zane smiled at her. She smirked back, and Zane knew something cringy or awkward was coming. It was her trademark comeback. If she was defeated, she made the other person feel so uncomfortable, they had to concede.

"Before you do anything else, let me tell you about the birds and the bees," she said, placing her hand upon her chin. Then she furrowed her eyebrows. "Of course, you'll only have to worry about the birds-"

"And I'm gone," Zane said, knowing she had won. He could practically feel her smirk burrowing into his back as she watched him walk away.

Knowing he had minimal time, Zane hurriedly stuffed several days' worth of clothes into the backpack. He tried to keep track of what he was packing, but he knew that Wawrzynski would be on his way soon, if not already. And he would not come alone. His soldiers would be armed to the teeth with every weapon Wawrzynski could acquire.

Zane, finished with the clothes, darted out to the kitchen, but was met by a stoic Mallory halfway. "We don't have time! Come on!" she yelled, dashing for the weapon room and freedom beyond. Her curly hair was done up in a tight bun and her brown eyes were wild and frightened.

"What about the food?" Zane screamed, but was cut short by a bang against the thick steel door that led to the hallway. The soldiers weren't even bothering to get the key from Wawrzynski. They were coming. Now. Zane's eyes widened.

"No time!" she hollered, and Zane zipped the backpack up and slung it over his shoulder. He ran after Mallory just as the door caved inward and the soldiers poured in. They were covered from head to toe in Kevlar, with mesh masks thrown over their faces, obscuring their features. It was truly a terrifying sight as they continued to pour in through the door. This time, they did not have tranquilizer guns or tasers. They had pistols.

Zane no longer doubted Wawrzynski's need to keep them here. He was not done with them yet. They belonged to him, and he could do with them whatever he liked. If that involved killing several to keep the rest of them here, that's what he would do.

Zane cleared the door to the weapons room as a bullet impacted the steel inches from his face. The noise was deafening and Zane's ears rang. His head felt like it was going to explode. The impact echoed around the steel chamber, and the bullet ricocheted several times. Zane's vision blurred.

He pulled out the pistol from his belt and his feet felt heavy as he neared the upturned steel and the slightly illuminated tunnel below. He turned around, waiting for any soldiers to appear through the doorway. He could hear them yelling and giving orders, but none appeared. Yet.

Zane couldn't hear out of his left ear. The bullet had rendered it useless. His head was spinning and his feet scrambled for purchase on the smooth surface. He could feel something wet and warm trickling down his cheek, and he knew distantly it was blood. His blood.

His brain wasn't working. His fist was clenched around the pistol. His feet were shuffling along the ground. He vaguely heard the others yelling. But he staggered around, disoriented. His vision was all wrong and his hearing was distorted. He tried to walk, but his feet didn't work anymore.

He collapsed to the ground. His chest heaved, searching for air that would not come. His brain muttered incoherences to him, and he was aware that his lips were relaying them, spouting nonsense. His grip on the gun did not lessen.

He felt hands grab his arm and drag him across the floor. The doorway became a sheet of navy blue and black as the soldiers flooded in. A pair of arms wrapped around his chest and enclosed him tightly. He heard bullets pinging from the ground beside him, and he found himself laughing. They missed! His hysteria grew as he was hauled into the tunnel by several pairs of arms. He felt something shred the flesh of his leg. He felt no pain. It was simply a weird sensation to have a hole in his leg.

His finger closed around the trigger of the pistol. It rocketed back in his hand, the recoil far worse than Zane would have imagined. He turned to see a strip of navy blue, a soldier, fall away from the unrecognizable group. A pool of red began to spread out around him, seeming to seek out Zane.

The hands tugged him into the tunnel, and his view of the fallen soldier disappeared.

"Joseph, close that thing," he heard Marcus say. Then the pair of hands disappeared from his chest. A wrenching sound could be heard and then there was complete darkness. He could see nothing.

"There's a little bit of light over there, come on." Zane faded in and out of reality as the pain in his leg struck him. He heard drops of his blood hit the metal on the floor in a continuous rhythm. He screamed, a raw, animal sound. He clawed at his leg, trying to tear away the pain. Hands grabbed at his limbs, holding him still.

"Put pressure on his leg," Daisy said from somewhere nearby. "Both sides. The bullet went straight through."

And then Joseph's apprehensive face was near his own, and Joseph dug around in a backpack until he came out with a shirt. Zane screamed when Joseph wrapped it around his leg. When the boy laid his hands on both sides of the wound and applied pressure, Zane passed out from the pain.