Chapter 18

Zane gawked as the two girls embraced, tears rolling down their cheeks. Anastasia was leaning against Daisy for support, her frail body staggering in the darkness. Daisy held her tightly, obviously and understandably afraid to let her go again.

Despite the happy reunion in front of him, Zane found himself asking questions that could prove to be dangerous. How did Anastasia get out? Would she tell them she had got out on her own, even if she hadn't, even if she'd had help? What if she was just another distraction, another variable for Wawrzynski to record reactions and scribble them on a notepad? He shared a look with Mallory and concluded she had had the same thoughts. She tucked Daisy's sister's gun in the back of her waistband, hiding it from sight.

"I can't believe you're actually alive," Daisy sobbed, her face pressed into her twin's shoulder. Her voice was shaky, and there was a hint of vulnerability Zane had never heard from her before. She seemed to have forgotten her ankle in the excitement of finding her sister alive.

"Me neither," Anastasia answered. Her voice was deeper than Daisy's, an octave lower, and Zane couldn't help but wonder about the reason why. She sounded utterly defeated.

"Sit down, sit down," Daisy said, lowering her to the hard ground. Anastasia glanced at her thankfully and Daisy smiled brightly. Her face was brimming with emotions, thousands of them at once, all brought on by the return of her sister. Daisy rummaged in her backpack.

Zane got an idea of how important Anastasia was to her when she pulled a box of Froot Loops from her pack. Without a second thought, she offered them to her twin. Zane recalled how she had snatched them away from him earlier before he could even open the tab. It was a silly assumption based on cereal, but he sensed Daisy would do anything to keep her sister alive, keep her away from Wawrzynski.

Zane relished in the fact that Wawrzynski had nobody to coerce them back with. Anastasia had been his most important weapon, and yet he'd lost her. Zane's content faded when he sensed that question in the back of his head; What if he let her go on purpose to bring us straight back to him?

Wawrzynski surely had the equipment for all sorts of brain-washing techniques, and Zane found himself wary of Anastasia, as if she were still the unrecognizable figure lumbering through the dark.

Joseph shocked him from his thoughts. "Who's Anastasia?" he whispered frantically, sounding slightly embarrassed that he didn't know.

Zane turned to find the boy's curious gaze fixed on him, a bemused expression on his face. He knew Zane knew who she was. He knew he'd gleaned the information from Daisy. He seemed ready to make another remark about how easy he was to talk to when Zane said, "Daisy's twin sister."

Joseph cocked a smile. "Mhm, and how do you know this?"

Zane rolled his eyes, hoping Joseph could hear it instead of see it. "Daisy told me," he said brusquely.

"Social butterfly," whispered Joseph. He was smiling broadly.

"Shut up and go eat a bagel," Zane spat at him. But he too was smiling.

Daisy and Anastasia broke apart, each sobbing and throwing handful upon handful of Froot Loops into their mouths. Zane sighed and extracted the box from them, away from their pawing hands. "I'm rationing you," he said forcefully. "We can't afford to go through a box a day."

"Bitch," they both said simultaneously.

"Hey, watch your mouths,"

"Fuck you," came the synchrononous response.

Mallory and Marcus were watching curiously, wary of the newcomer. When Anastasia looked over, Marcus tipped his hat to her and Mallory gave a curt nod. The red-haired girl stifled a laugh and Zane was slightly inclined to trust her.

"How did you get out?" Daisy asked, inching closer to her sister who she hadn't seen in months. The others sat down nearby, Joseph near Zane and Mallory near Marcus.

Anastasia's eyes blazed in rage. Zane took a step back. "I heard shouts from the hall," she started, the fire in her eyes only growing with each passing word, like the lava she could summon. "The soldiers were screaming about subjects escaping. One soldier asked for the names of the escaped. He was right outside my door. I heard your name, Dais. That was when I knew I had to get out, to find you again after all these months. They never told me where you were, and they never told me where I was. Hearing your name was the only thing that made me want to escape. I suddenly had a reason to escape, a drive." Zane flinched at her words, and they felt like an unintended personal attack.

"As it turns out, a lava-proof room doesn't hold up the greatest against the pressure of tons of magma inside it. I exploded the room and the hall flooded with lava. I didn't want to hurt anybody, but it wouldn't stop." A tear rolled down her cheek, tracing a track through the dust on her face. "It was like a living thing, seeking out anything with a heart, anything with an ounce of warmth."

"So not Wawrzynski," said Zane. Everyone stared at him. "Not ready to joke about it yet?" The stares deepened. "Guess not."

"Who's the square?" Anastasia asked, narrowing her eyes.

"That's Zane," Daisy said while he crossed his arms and pouted.

Joseph chuckled and laid a hand on his knee. "Don't worry, Z. You can be a triangle if you want to. Hell, you can even be a hexagon," he said. Zane didn't miss the new nickname. Z. His body rippled a little bit when Joseph said it, and he felt a weird tickling in his gut.

"Anyway," said Anastasia, baffled by the turn the conversation had taken and the hardcore blush spreading over Zane's face. "I found this weird room with a bunch of deadly-looking weapons. One of the steel sections on the floor had been pried completely off, and there was a dead soldier nearby, so I grabbed his gun, and I jumped down here." Zane winced at the mention of the dead soldier. The one he'd killed. "By the way, there's a bunch of dead dudes over there," she gestured back the way she'd come. "They got these epically huge claw marks on them. Any idea what could have done that?"

All eyes turned to Marcus, who quietly gazed down at his hands as they transformed. Dark stiff hair spread over his wrists and hands, and his fingers shortened and sharpened, becoming claws. Long, gouging claws. Pads of bare skin formed on his palms, and within seconds, his hands had become those of a bear. His face was a mask of pain and endurance.

"Oh," Anastasia whispered.

The conversation faded into silence. They were all understandably hesitant to continue talking after the dark turn. Marcus sighed and his hands became human again, his nails regrowing and his knuckles wrinkling. "I had no choice," he said softly, a tear pooling at the corner of his eye.

Mallory laid an arm across his shoulders. "We know," she said just as softly, so Zane had to strain his ears to hear. Her mouth was set in a grim, determined line, as if she would do anything to spare Marcus from further violent confrontations, which she would, judging by the defiant look in her eyes.

Daisy and Anastasia were silent, gazing mournfully at Marcus. They both abruptly stood up and walked off in the direction Anastasia had come from. They talked in hush tones, likely catching up on the many months of separation. Zane gestured to Joseph and they strode in the other direction, leaving Mallory to comfort Marcus alone.

Despite the seemingly easy circumstances with which she had gotten out, Zane was inclined to trust Anastasia. Daisy, although possibly biased, trusted her completely. And Zane liked to think he could rely on Daisy's judgement, much like Joseph's, who also didn't seem hesitant of the randomly-appearing twin sister. Daisy and him were the two people in Zane's life he trusted the most, so if they could accept the fact that Anastasia whad escaped by herself and found them, then he could too.

When they were out of earshot, Joseph turned to him. "I'm scared, Zane," he said, stepping closer.

"Are you just trying to get another touchy-feely hug?" Zane said, placing his hands on his hips. Joseph's eyes twinkled in the near-darkness.

"Possibly," he murmured, his breath alighting on Zane's cheek. Zane shivered. His skin suddenly grew very warm, uncomfortably warm.

"Not happening, Joseph," Zane retorted, this time crossing his arms over his chest. He flashed a knowing smirk, and Joseph pouted.

Zane sat down, the coolness of the tunnel floor extinguishing the fire that had rushed over his skin. He adjusted slightly as one of his knives stabbed his thigh. He winced at the sharp pain. One leg of his pants twisted and his leg sunk down on one of the larger pockets. Unfortunately, it was occupied.

The syringe was like a rock pressing into his leg, right where the bullet wound had been. The newly repaired skin was slightly tender, and he drew in a hissing intake of breath, cursing and muttering obscenities.

As he repositioned the fabric covering his legs, Joseph crouched down on the opposite curved wall, extracting the rubber ball from his pocket. It was dirty, as if he had used it multiple times in the definitely-not-clean tunnel. The nervous gesture was almost as familiar to Zane as the color of his own eyes, or his extra toe.

Due to the circular nature of the underground hallway, when Joseph threw the ball, it loop-de-looped up and over them. He simply rotated his hand around and grabbed it as it gained momentum on the way back down. He was watching Zane admirably, his gaze nowhere near the rubber ball, but still he managed to catch it every time.

"What's troubling you?" Zane asked. "You know, besides the imminent threat of being tased or shot and the fact that we're like rats in a laboratory maze." The corners of his mouth twitched upward, threatening to burst into a smile.

Joseph opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his gaze sharpening. "Oh no, I am not falling for your oddly endearing interrogation techniques again, you handsome devil." He tossed the ball again, and it disturbed the air around it as it sped along the wall, creating an ominous whooshing noise.

Zane struggled to keep his composure. "What?" he asked, adding a hint of innocence to his voice.

"You and your baffling persuasive tendencies won't sway me today, Z." There was that nickname again. Zane began to wonder if it meant something. Joseph moved from his crouched position, stretching his legs along the sloped floor. "Maybe I ask the questions this time."

"Go right ahead," Zane answered, linking his hands behind his head.

"Alright," Joseph said, looking extremely confident. "Favorite color?" Zane opened his mouth, found he didn't have an answer and closed it again. It'd never struck him that favorites were something people had in New Vancouver. Joseph chuckled. "Childhood memory?" he said. Zane glared at him. He had squat. He had shit. How could he not remember anything from his childhood? It was as if the first seventeen years of his life had never happened. He couldn't recall a single moment.

Except one. He snapped his fingers, excited to have an answer. "Frozen!" he yelled. "I loved watching that movie!"

"Fair enough," Joseph said. "Dream job?" Zane spluttered, angry at himself for not having any answers. "Irrational fear?" Nothing.

"Alright, alright, I get the gist," he said, gesturing away the questions.

"What are you thinking about?"

Zane was so pleased at finally having an answer he didn't question the word until it was out of his mouth, irreversible. "You." His eyes widened and he clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was already spoken.

Joseph smiled, the ball whooshing around the tunnel. "Good to know," he said, winking. His gaze left Zane but the presumptuous smirk did not fade.

They sat in silence for several heartbeats, but it was a friendly silence. Perhaps more than friendly. Zane liked to entertain that fact.

"My favorite color," Joseph said abruptly. "Is green." Zane watched the ball circle the tunnel, coming to rest in Joseph's hand every time. "Not like the grass or the trees, but the color of your eyes." The ball stopped. Zane had caught it. "Every time I see your eyes, I think I know exactly what springtime looks like. And then I look closer and I know not even spring can compare."

Zane squeezed the ball harder, pressing the rubber into his palm. Joseph went on. "My favorite memory is my mother's flower gardens in the backyard, all the wonderful colors you could see nowhere else in the city. They were dazzling.

"My dream job was to be an actor or a comedian, someone who made people's lives better through entertainment and wit. And I'm terrified of moving forward, afraid that I'll tumble backward instead, and lose everything I've worked for."

Zane's mouth was dry, his throat parched. He dropped the ball, and it wobbled to a rest at the bottom of the curve. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice and hands shaking.

Zane watched Joseph as he picked up the ball and returned it to his pocket. He uttered one word, the same word Zane had. "You."

Zane was shivering. His hair had fallen down over his forehead and was softly tickling his skin, adding to the sensation.

Scooting closer, Joseph rested a hand on Zane's leg, exactly where it had been earlier, over the tender, repaired skin. Zane winced at the initial pressure, but it dimmed. He felt the heat radiating from Joseph's hand.

Zane found himself leaning closer, inching his body closer. Joseph's hand did not stray. Zane felt it like an ever-increasing pressure. His ears rang and a swansong of possibilities raced through his head, filling his brain with pictures of possible futures. Something he'd never allowed himself to think about before. He closed his eyes.

In these visions, he did not see New Vancouver. He saw everything but his old life. He saw himself, smiling as a ray of sunshine cascaded down his shoulders. He saw Daisy, stalking through the bush like a hound on a trail, Anastasia right beside her. He saw Mallory facing the beautifully blue ocean, no end in sight. He saw Marcus, riding a horse instead of being a horse, racing across the countryside. And he saw Joseph, right beside himself, and the sunlight shrouded him, blocking the brilliant smile Zane knew was plastered across his face.

Zane had never seen the outside world, yet he knew he was seeing it now exactly as it was. Brilliant golden sunlight, sparkling blue sky, a rainbow of possibilities just waiting for him outside the city wall. He knew that, to reach these things, he had no choice but to break free.

These new possibilities and hopes brushed aside his reservations of leaving, brushed aside the queens on the chessboard, leaving a clear open path. Not just for him, but for the other pawns waiting for him to show the way. He was free, and he had a number of paths he could follow.

When he opened his eyes and emerged from the strange visions, Joseph's hand was gone. The boy was standing, facing away from him. Zane's ears picked up a faint sound. Footsteps. Coming their way.

Fast.

He scrambled to his feet, disappointed to have his moment with Joseph broken, but glad for the epiphany it had brought on. He righted himself just in time to see Daisy barrel around a distant corner, clutching their packs. She threw them.

Hoisting it over his shoulder, Zane watched the others pour around the bend, and it was a barrage of hair colors in the dim light. Blue. Red. Orange. Black. He blinked furiously, rainbows dancing behind his eyes.

"Run, you dipshits!" Mallory screamed. Her pack was swinging, held up by a single shoulder. Her face was a blend of outrage and terror.

"How many?" Joseph yelled back.

"You think I stopped to count?" She hollered.

Marcus's face was calm, serene, even. "Nine," he said, halting. His voice quieted. "Easy." His eyes narrowed as he turned around, drawing his swords from the x-sheath on his back. He cracked his neck, his cowboy hat tilted on his head.

Joseph planted his feet. Zane rooted his legs to the spot, not wanting to leave Joseph. The other boy curled his hands into fists and his body flooded with silver. Zane heard him inhale a breath as the metallic lustre swept over his head, immobilizing his hair in time and space. He looked back, and his eyes were a startling cerulean stone color, a menacing blue-grey.

Zane drew his knives and stood beside Joseph.