“Help me!” I scream, taking all the frustration I feel and funneling it into a different cause. My eyes fill with tears. “Please! I need help!”
At the top of the fence is a black security camera. It pivots, and the reflective end faces me. A spotlight turns on, covering me with a circle of white light.
I jump and point at the camera. “There! I know you see me!”
A few tense minutes later, the door of the building swings open and Craike steps out, wearing a black suit and a canary-yellow tie. In his slender hands he’s holding a silver handgun. He strides across to the gate and aims it.
Right at me.
A blur of darkness streaks out of the door and stops directly in front of the gate. I stare into the Stalker’s chest. A little galaxy of silver light glimmers where its heart should be.
That’s where I’ll aim.
Craike stops beside the Stalker. He’s holding the gun steady, aiming it right between my eyes. A gust of wind opens his jacket, revealing a second gun strapped to his hip.
“Caden,” he says. “Welcome back. We missed you.”
“Before you do anything, please hear me out,” I say. “I was dragged into rebelling. I didn’t want to run but Dyl tricked me into doing it. I came here to hand him over in exchange for my freedom.”
“You expect me, of all people, to believe you’ve fallen out of love that fast?”
My face falls. “I was delusional, and he was playing me. You know love can drive people to act irrationally. But I’m smarter than my feelings and now I know it was all a fantasy. I want to get back to reality. So please, let’s put this behind us. That’s all I want. I’m good at being a Love Interest, you must’ve seen that, so I’m valuable to you. Let me tell you where Dylan is and then we can…”
He types a password into the square screen beside the gate. It flashes, then the door swings open.
I step forward. “So we have a deal?”
He grins. “Throw him.”
What?
The Stalker’s hand shoots out and grabs me by the neck. It jerks to the side, sending me spinning through the air. The earth rushes toward me. My face grinds into the grass, filling my mouth with dirt clods and warm blood. I place my hands on the ground and push myself up. My mouth is full of warm and salty liquid. I spit, spraying the grass with red.
“Again.”
Hands grab the back of my shirt and yank me up off the ground. The collar of my shirt digs into my throat. A button pops off my jacket and falls, spinning, to the earth. I’m high off the ground, and my body is straining against the material of my clothes. The hands holding me release, and I follow the button down. I barely have time to raise my right hand to protect my head before I land. My nose and my balls take most of the force, and my nose gushes twin jets of blood. As for my balls, well, they feel like mini supernovas of pain, sending an ache right into my core, to the part of me that sits behind my stomach. I curl up, whimpering like a kicked dog.
I failed. I …
Fingers wrap through my hair and pull. I scream and am wrenched to my feet. Craike. I’ll kill him. I want to shock him now; I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Yet I leave the wool glove on, and scramble forward with tears streaming down my face.
The back of my head is pushed, and I land hard on my hands and knees.
Craike is sneering at me. He’s standing about a yard away, aiming the gun at my forehead. Instinctively, I raise my hands, like surrendering will save me.
“Back when you were first released,” says Craike, “I told you what we do to rebels. And you’re a smart boy, Caden, so I think you know that you’re about to die, no matter what your intentions in coming here. But, in case you’re confused, I’ll explain what is about to happen. I’m going to take you to the incinerator.” He turns away and taps on the screen that’s embedded in the wall. It’s a touch-screen keypad. I watch his fingers: the code he enters is 2484972. Easy. “And you’re going to burn.”
I realize the only reason he didn’t try to disguise his password is that he doesn’t think I’m going to survive long enough to ever use it. I swallow, and find my mouth is parched.
The door rolls upward, and Craike grabs me by the shirt and pulls me to my feet. He moves around and places his hand on my back. With a push, I stumble inside. A white jet sits in the middle of the bunker. He presses the barrel of the gun into my spine, and the metal digs into my vertebrae.
I have only one trick left up my sleeve: to be myself. Maybe if I stop acting like the meek, sensitive boy he expects me to be, he’ll be entertained enough that he keeps me alive a little longer. It might buy me enough time to finish my mission.
We reach the silver elevator, and Craike presses his plastic key card against the wall beside the door. The machines start to whir. The doors open, and he turns to me. He’s so close I get a whiff of his icy cologne. “Get inside.”
I walk into the elevator, then spin and face the open doors. Outside, the massive metal door is slowly descending. Past that, the moon is rising. The Stalker struts inside, its cold forearm pressing against my shoulder. I roll my wrists, which makes a cracking sound. The door closes.
The elevator descends, as signified by the streams of white light that pass outside and the general sinking feeling. Craike scratches the tip of his nose.
“Well, this is awkward,” I say.
They both ignore me.
The door slides open, and the Stalker grabs me by the biceps, its grip tight enough to bruise, and pushes me forward into a serene mirrored hallway. Instinct makes me try to step backward, away from this hellish place, but the Stalker is holding me too tight and I can’t move. Relax. Deep breaths. It’s okay. After this, I’ll never come back here. One way or another, this is it for me and the LIC.
A guard dressed in red steps toward us. He’s holding a long black baton. I turn away from him and come face to face with my reflection. Staring back at me is a thin young man with messy hair and hunched shoulders. It takes a second to register that the scruffy kid is actually me. I look more Bad than I ever have, and there’s this intense, fiery look in my eyes. I look nothing like the boy I was when I lived here.
I freaking love it.
“Is everything under control, boss?” asks the guard.
“Don’t talk to me,” barks Craike. We proceed down the hallway. The guard steps into the elevator and then the doors close.
Save for the elevators, there’s only one door on this level, and it’s at the very end of the hallway. It’s made of black glass.