 
# **THE GIRL WHO REMAINED ELUSIVE: PART 3**

**Wanna read #TGWRE series from the start? Here's PART 1 PART 2**

**IMPORTANT:**

This work is part three of a serialized novel called The Girl Who Remained Elusive (or Elusive-for short). This isn't book three; it's part three. I will try to release a new portion every week-maybe more frequently. For updates on release dates, feel free to email me at whitopag at gmail dot com.

**(C) Whitney Pagano. All rights reserved.**

Cover design by Cheryl Ramirez/Whitney Pagano

## Table of Contents

**CHAPTER 35**

**CHAPTER 36**

**CHAPTER 37**

**CHAPTER 38**

**CHAPTER 39**

**CHAPTER 40**

**CHAPTER 41**

**CHAPTER 42**

**CHAPTER 43**

**CHAPTER 44**

**CHAPTER 45**

**CHAPTER 46**

**CHAPTER 47**

**CHAPTER 48**

**CHAPTER 49**

**CHAPTER 50**

**CHAPTER 51**

**CHAPTER 52**

**CHAPTER 53**

## **CHAPTER 35**

Uggggh. My head reverbs the sound of my groan against my eardrums. I wince. Everything hurts. A pair of hands tug me back sharply. My calves scrape against gravel. A ringing high pitched noise fills my ears. I shake my head to clear it, and a sharp blunt pain shoots through the back of my skull. I groan again. Struggle to open my eyes.

A thick wet blurriness clous part of my vision. Through the mask, I see flashes of Jazz's concerned face hovering above me. Her mouth is set in a grim line of determination. Something about the way she looks at me scares me. She swipes at my own face with the palms of her hands.

"Jazz?" The ringing in my ear picks up volume and I can't even hear myself say her name. I must've gotten dirt in them. That's probably why I can hardly see too. Must've gotten dirt in my eyes as well.

I lift my finger to my face, intending to swipe at the mud there. When my palm meets the curve of my jaw, it glides smoothly across...too smoothly.

I pull my hand away and bring it to my eyes. That's when I see the blood. My fingers are coated in it, slick with it. Even with my sudden partial blindness, I know that the blood I'm seeing is way too much blood for everyone to be okay.

Someone's hurt. Badly.

I can feel the panic form like an airtight bubble around me. "Is everybody okay?" My voice sounds croaky and weak.

Jazz doesn't meet my eyes or answer my question. She pulls her sweatshirt over her head and blots at my face. Within a few blots, my eyesight is almost clear. Just the corners of my vision remain blurry. I push her hands away and struggle to sit up.

"Lana, stay down." Jay's voice sounds like a cannon in my ear, but at least the ringings subsided.

I turn to the sound of his voice and his face floats into view. He pushes my head back down towards the ground just before a bullet buries in the trunk of a tree branch a few feet over us peeling back the bark and exposing the white flesh underneath.

I blink rapidly, the corners of my eyesight clearing. Jay swipes a finger along the outer corner of my eyes. They glisten in the light of the moon covered in a light pink fluid. Tears mixed with blood.

"Lana." Pat's voice comes from behind Jay's back. "I'm sorry for passing out and knocking you down in the process."

I giggle. I don't know if it's from what Pat said or delirium from the pain at the base of my head. When I press two fingers to the back of my head, they come away sticky with blood and dirt.

"It's just a scratch," Erwin says on my right. "Surface wound. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not," I say, sounding unconvinced even to my own ears. I wipe my fingers on my pants. "What happened? Is everyone okay? Where are we?"

"Squished behind a rock trying to wait out this dumb ass guard firing off bullets for no apparent reason," Robyn says somewhere near Erwin.

"He saw Pat's chain," I say, clenching my teeth to distract myself from the ache in my head.

Another bullet slams into the same tree branch he previous bullet hit. It hangs above us by a shredded slice of wood the width of my wrist. If it falls, we're dead.

"He'll run out of bullets soon," Jay assures me, following my gaze. "In fact, that was his last. I counted twenty."

"I counted nineteen," Robyn says.

"Eric says he's getting back in the truck," Erwin says.

Jazz frowns. "Could be a trick, though."

Robyn agrees with her. "Could be, but would you rather wait to see if he called for backup or take a chance that he's leaving?"

I'm pretty sure that everyone breathes a sigh of relief when the engine sputters to life. Everyone but Robyn.

"See?" she says, snorting softly. "Now lets get outta here."

## **CHAPTER 36**

With Jay clutching my arm for support on one side and Pat on the other, I stumble down the incline after the others as we make our way towards town. Jazz takes the lead along with Robyn, and Erwin and Eric take up the rear. The hill is steeper than it'd looked and its riddled with rusted pipe ends and debris. Even with the assistance of Jay and Pat, I stumble and slip a few times. By the time we reach the outskirts of town, the pain in my legs is equal in intensity to that of the pain in my head.

We stick to the back alleys, relying on Jazz's memory to get us there. A few blocks in, she tears up the map into tiny bits and drops the shreds into one of the trash bins behind an old building we pass. Pat urges her to, saying that if we were caught and the map was found, we'll have less than a one thousandth percent of surviving the torture Isis would inflict on us.

I sigh in relief when we come to a stop at the back door of a building a lot less crumbling than the others. Patches of bright pink paint cling to its bricks. A square metal plate hangs from a single rusted nail for dear life. The letters painted there in scratchy black paint are barely legible. "Plum's Family Sweets and Treats" I make out.

Erwin holds up a hand. "I'll scout around inside and make sure they haven't put any new cameras in. You guys wait around the corner." Eric follows him inside.

I sit between Jay and Pat in the alley way between the candy shop and another taller three story indescript building. The coolness of the bricks against my head is refreshing and slightly numbs the pain. I close my eyes and enjoy the lull.

Robyn and Jazz take their separate posts on opposite ends of the space. Robyn looks out into the alley and Jazz faces the main street.

"Are you okay?" Jay asks me. He extends his legs out and not waiting for my answer, takes my head and gently presses it onto his legs. "You should try to get as much rest as you can."

I want to resist. The idea of being in such close proximity to him makes my face warm and my hands tingle. But my pain is more insistent than my embarrassment, and I relent, laying my head against his leanly muscled thighs. To 'just be a scratch' as Erwin had said, my head certainly feels really woozy. "I'll get blood in your lap," I mumble, even as my eyes flutter close.

Jay laughs and his stomach jostles gently against me. "You literally fell straight backwards and hit your head on a rock, and you're concerned about getting a bit of blood on me?" His long fingers smooth my wayward curls behind my ear and tucks them beneath my hood.

Something in my chest warms and shoots through my gut like a rocket in reverse.

"Erwin said it was just a surface wound," Pay says somewhere above me.

"Erwin did say that," Jay says. "It pretty well could be as far as we know, but you came down on her really hard." He smooths a lock from my forehead, and his fingers are cool and soothing. "I think you should take it easy until the twins get a chance to look at it and patch you up. We wouldn't want you to get hurt anymore than you are."

I bristle at his words. I hate feeling like the weak link.

"Especially in your delicate situation," Robyn says.

I look at her. With my head on Jay's lap as it is, she's sideways in my vision. She smirks at me. I'm tempted to roll my eyes, but just thinking of the effort makes my head throb.

Erwin and Eric come around the corner. "We're good to go," Erwin says.

"Why'd it take you guys so long?" Pat asks, standing to his feet quickly.

Erwin grins and sticks out his tongue. It's rainbow stained. "Remember last outing when you ate all my favorites? His multi-colored stained grin widens. "Well, I'll just say that if you want the last few m&m's left, you'd better beat me inside."

"Nooo," Pat groans under his breath. He disappears around the corner after the twins quicker than I've ever seen him move before.

"So, he _can_ run," Robyn says. "He just needs the proper motivation." She pulls two small plastic bags from her shoe. "See yall inside."

"Be nice, Rob." Jazz walks over and holds a hand out to me." Seeing that Pat so quickly abandoned you for candy, I'll offer my assistance."

Robyn looks at Jay, her eyes pointy and hard. "This is why we don't recruit Elites, remember? They're usually not physically up to par." She rolls her eyes up to the night sky. "In other words, they can slow us down and put us all in danger."

Jazz bends down to where I'm propped against the wall. She links her arm through mine. "That's not fair, Rob. Pat accidentally knocked her down. Knocked her out. Besides, Pat is an 'Elite, too." Her small lips press into a disapproving frown at Robyn's words.

"Yeah, that's my point," Robyn says, before she slips around the corner.

"Don't worry about her," Jazz says. Her hair tickles the side of my face as she whispers into my ear. "I didn't forget about your...you know.." Her eyes widen and she inclines her head to my stomach. "We'll go check out some stuff at the pharmacy we passed before we leave. Just me and you."

"Thank you, Jazz," I say, pulling my arm free from hers. "I'd appreciate that. About what Robyn said, though: I'm not worried about it. In a way, she's right." I tug my other arm from Jays. "I need to be more fit. I don't want to be a burden or worse-"

Jazz smiles softly. "I get it. You let Rob get to you. Now you need to prove your own way. That's a great quality to have." She pats my shoulder and straightens. "I should go before Rob eats all the goopers. See you inside." Then she disappears too, and I watch her half skip-half run around the corner like a fairy.

Beside me, Jay stands over me, his hand extended. "On three..I'll support-"

"I said I can do it on my own," I say, my voice more stern than what I'd intended.

Jay stoops until he's eye level with me. "I get your need to prove to Robyn that you being a Birther doesn't mean you're weak and superficial. But right now isn't the time to prove yourself. You're hurt.."

He reaches out to my head, and I pull back. He drops his hand, and frowns. "Lana, my job is to care for you. You are injured."

I've never seen the expression on his face before. He suddenly looks older. Seriously worried. If I didn't know better I'd say the emotion seeping his handsome dark face could be fear.

"I don't need your help," I say, tearing my eyes from his before my resolution to be independent shatters under his concerned gaze. I look instead out past the alley and across the main street. A dilapidated wooden building sits there. The black soot sticking to the panels of wood slats that makes up its skeleton hint to a fire of some sort. Something glints like glass from the inside of one of its several gaping rotted holes in the walls. Or maybe thats just the wetness in my eye.

I blink rapidly to keep the prickle of wetness safe behind my eyelids. My head feels like the inside of a beating drum.

"You're crying.." Jay reaches a hand forward.

I pull away from his reaching fingers. "Leave me alone. I don't need your help. I don't need your help!"

Jay recoils like I've just spit in his face. A look of shock shoots across his face. His eyes flash with something sharp and hurting. Then his lips, the lips that made me feel emotions I've never felt before, tighten. He straightens his long frame and stands to his feet. "Fine. I'll leave you alone, Lana."

I watch his boots take wide strides along the length of the wall, watch the glint of the leather bounce along them until they disappear around the corner.

You're being foolish. He was only trying to help. I close my eyes and try to block my conscience from my thoughts. I grit my teeth and pull my knees up. I almost cry out from the pain that shoots from my toes and straight to my head. Using the leverage of my palms on the brick wall, I pull myself up, excruciating inchy by excruciating inch. When I finally do stand, my lungs burn like I've just ran a marathon and my head feels like a sack of heavy sand.

The discarded, twisted metal leg of a rusted grocery cart lies on the ground half submerged under a pile of molding saggy rags. I hobble to it, almost losing my balance and falling on my butt in the process. When I manage to finally tug it free, I see there's a sad half melted rubber wheel still attached to it. I rip it off and using the pole for support, hobble towards the white building we'd passed on our way up here. What had Jazz said? Two blocks down?

I stifle a groan under my breath as my left foot slips on a patch of wet grass growing unexpectedly along the edge of one of the potholes that litter the crumbling asphalt of the road. This will be the longest, most terrifying two blocks I've ever walked in my life.

Maybe I should have swallowed my pride and accepted Jazz and Jay's company. In my head, I see Robyn, sleek and poised, her signature haughty smirk plastered on her lips. No. Scratch that. I need to prove to Robyn-to everyone here that I belong here-that I belong in the Underground Resistance.

Because its the only chance I have of getting me and Uri out of this forsaken place.

## **CHAPTER 37**

I get the neck hair raising, heart beat pounding feeling that I'm being followed just as the rusted used-to-be-fire-engine-red cross of the abandoned pharmacy comes into view. I halt under the guise of adjusting my grip on my makeshift cane. My follower stops a step too late. The sound of their footstep against the asphalt is loud-so loud that even though I pretend I didn't hear it as I readjust the grip on my cane slash potential weapon if need be, there is no doubt in my mind that he or she knows that I did indeed hear it.

My palms grown slick with sweat, making my grip on my cane loosen. I swallow in quick rapid successions to lube my throat. It feels parched and constricted. Against all of my natural instinct to do so, I force myself to continue the previous pace of my unsteady gait. I know that once I blow my charade and try to run, I will be doomed. What with my body feeling as if it was just mauled to pieces by some savage animal, I can barely walk, let alone run.

No. Getting inside the pharmacy is my only hope. Just ten or so steps more. Sweat rolls from my brow and trickles into my eyes, stinging them. I resist the urge to swipe at my perspiration and instead focus my smarting eyes on the vomit green back door of the pharmacy. Is it locked? Give maybe four steps to go if I lengthen my stride just a bit. Not locked. The latch hangs free, and the door is slightly ajar.

With three steps to go, a deadly thought almost freezes me into non-motion. What if its a trick? What if the person following me wants me to go inside? What if he plans to trap me inside?

Too late for fears. My hand closes around the cold metal frame. I pull, but it doesn't budge. Why won't it move? My pursuer's footsteps are too close. I can feel his breath on my neck. Or is my fear making me imagine things?

I give a final desperate tug, and the door swings free. It opens too fast and too hard-connecting with my left knee. I gasp and fall to my knees just inside. The door swings closed behind me.

I frown in the darkness of the pharmacy, huddled on the cool hard floor. Had I imagined that I'd been followed? Maybe Jay was right and I'd hurt my head more than I'd thought. I can't stop the giggle that leaks from my mouth. It turns into a full on stomach laugh that I attempt to smother behind my sweaty palm. I don't know why I'm laughing but I can't stop. Maybe its delirium finally setting in. Maybe it's the strange, sharp pharmacy odors that cloak the air inside like an odd smelling blanket. My shoulders shake, as I steady my bubbling frame against a nearby counter. I should get out of here; I should get what I came for and get out and go back to the others. As soon as I can stop this string of strange laughter, and find my shopping cart cane, I will.

The door creaks The laugh ripping up my throat vanishes. In it's place is that bubble of fear that becoming more and more familiar to me. So I wasn't imagining it. Someone _did_ follow me.

From my position crouched on the floor and leaning against the counter, I watch-my heart in my throat-as the moonlight beaming between the slowly opening door glows onto the tiles on the floor. The lit space on the floor widens slowly, ever so slowly.

My heart beats so loudly, I feel as if there is no way my pursuer can't hear it. The rectangle of light on the floor gets even wider. It illuminates my makeshift cane that somehow ended up a good ten feet away almost flush to the adjacent wall.

I use the counter to struggle to my feet, my body resisting every move. Frantically, I reach a hand up and feel around for something-anything-to use as a weapon. But the counters are empty of jars, containers, or anything else I can use to protect myself. I come away empty handed, my fingers brushing across something round and fury in the process. I shudder.

My only chance is to cross the light and get my shopping cart pole. And I'll have to do it quickly, judging by the human shaped shadow that suddenly stretches across the rectangle of light.

I grit my teeth, readying myself for the pain. Something clicks against metal. I peer around the corner. A boot lodges itself into the door opening. The other remains outside.

One, two, now! I lunge across the moonlight lit tiles, bracing myself for the pain just as my right hand grips confidently around the cool metal of the shopping cart leg. I guess the rush of adrenaline shooting through my body acts as a numbing agent against the pain. I leap to my feet, and swing the pole back. I'll aim for his groin and make him drop to his knees as soon as he steps fully inside.

A second boot appears. I close my eyes and muster all of my strength. I've got one shot and it has to count or I'm a dead girl.

## **CHAPTER 38**

"Lana? Lana are you in here?"

The pole slips unheeded from my grasp and clatters to the floor, making an awful racket. I look up as Pat brings all of his frame into view. He's chewing a wad of something pink, and his eyes are round with worry behind his glasses. He gazes around owlishly.

"Pat!" I whisper fiercely, causing him to jump. "I almost hurt you. I could've killed you!"

His gaze lands on me. "Lana, what are you doing here?" He stuffs the bag of pink and yellow jellybeans in his boot and closes the door, blanketing us in complete darkness.

I ignore his question. "What are you doing here?" I hear him fumbling for something in the dark. Then a faint click. He groans, and his voice is closer to my level when he does. Another click, and a bright light flashes into my eyes, blinding me. "Pat!"

"Oops. Sorry." He maneuvers the flashlight around, illuminating the rows of shelves still stacked neatly with boxes and pill bottles all covered in a blanket of dust and grime. "I came here for an inhaler. I've got asthma, remember?"

He points the flashlight up towards the counter. A pair of brown furry feet scurry from its halo of bright light. I shudder as I remember the furry thing I'd touched earlier.

"I hate rats," Pat says, then he places something hard and oblong in my hand. "Now you've got one too." He points the flashlight under his chin, and the glow makes his usually very pale face appear slightly golden. "Always have two of everything if you can. Except inhalers. When it comes to inhalers too many is never too many. " He smiles. "My mother would always tell me that, and my mother was an extremely smart lady."

"What happened to her?" I ask. "Where is she now?"

Pat points the flashlight away from his face and back onto the shelves, but not before I notice the immediate poignant sadness in his eyes. He stands to his feet. "We don't have alot of time," He says, making his way over to the shelves. "If I were you, I'd have that flashlight on and looking for what you came to get." He picks up a small orange bottle and examines it under the flashlight. "I come here to get pharmaceutical supplies for my allergies and asthma, and every time I leave here, my health problems are worse because of the three inch blanket of dust over everything." He chuckles softly. "What is it you came for?"

I click my flashlight on. "Um girl things.."

"Seeing as 'girl things' can encompass a billion and one products, I'm afraid you've got to be more specific than that." He sneezes softly.

"Tampons, pads, period things," I say. Thankfully, there are no windows in the pace. Otherwise I'm sure that our flashlights would be easily seen from outside.

Pat unwraps a piece of gum and pops it into his mouth. "Those are on the shelf behind the pharmacist's station," he says between loud smacks. "Top shelf." After a pause, he adds, "I only know that because I always get Robyn's feminine things for her."

I chuckle and make my way through the dark towards the pharmacist's station-a high wooden rectangular desk outfitted with a metal chair that looks very uncomfortable and hard. A black telephone set sits on the otherwise empty desk. I don't realize I'm staring at it until Pat shines his light on me.

"I hope you're not contemplating calling for help," he says. "There's no possible connect and no one to call." He chuckles dryly at his own joke, then resumes ruffling through boxes.

I lift the talking piece and hold it to my ear and mouth. There's silence on the other end. I quickly replace it and my empty hand brushes against the dusty white labcoat hanging over the back of the chair. My nails click against something metallic.

I peer closely at the coat at the square of metal coated in a layer of dust. I swipe at the grime with a thumb, revealing the golden hued metal of the name tag pinned to the upper portion of the coat just below the right lapel. 'Allison Decouth B.S. Pharmacist.'

A spatter of brown catches my eye near the shoulder of the coat. Blood. It creates a trail from the seam of the sleeve on the shoulder and down to the hem of the cuff. Curious, I lift the sleeve. It's stiff from non-use and cloaked with dust. I wonder what happened to this 'Allison Decouth'. Wonder how she'd come to have blood on her labcoat. Wonder what she looked like. If she liked her job. If she was dead or alive.

I let the sleeve fall from my grasp, and a small puff of dust rises into the air. It makes my nose tickle. A sneeze threatens my throat. I hold my breath until it passes.

"Trying to kill me again?" Pat asks right behind me. He sneezes twice into his sleeve.

"Sorry," I mutter absentmindedly. The corner of a yellow lined piece of paper peaks from where it's partially hidden under the black rubber wheels of the chair. I stoop and tug it free.

The paper is stiff and crinky. Except for one corner, it's torn on all sides like it was ripped from a larger sheet of paper. I smooth it straight and shake off the dust.

"You _are_ trying to kill me," Pay says, his voice muffled.

I glance back to see him walking backwards away from me his sleeve pressed to his face. "I keep forgetting about your allergies."

He grins and brushes my apology off with a wave of his hand. "No prob. I did almost kill you earlier. How's your head?"

I shrug. "Not as bad as before. I'll live."

"Good. How much more time do you think you'll need? The others are probably stuffed full by now and ready to get down to business."

"Five minutes," I say, turning my attention back to the paper.

There's writing on it. It's scrawled in red ink across the light blue lines. I have to squint and really focus to make out the words. Whoever wrote it had horrible handwriting or were in a hurry. The words read:

_U., if you 're reading this, we've been found out and caught. Don't worry about us. We, like you, are protected as you know. We shall continue our mission on the inside. Don't risk coming into the city unless your supplies run out. The last batch is in the t-_

The words halt to an end at 't'. A long jagged line of ink runs from the cross in the 't' and off the paper.

Small brown dots, identical to the spatter of blood on the coat sleeve are splattered across the paper. More blood. I roll it into a small tube and stuff it into my socks, unsure as to why even as I do it. Whoever Allison had been, she'd known someone who had, like us, taken refuge outside of the city.

"Lana, are you ready to go?" Pat's voice seeps impatience. He stands near the door, his sweater looks bulky and big. He'd stuffed his goods underneath.

"Five minutes," I say again.

He groans. "They're probably really worried by now." He frowns. "Especially Jay."

"Just go ahead," I tell him. "Tell them I'll be right behind you."

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"Here," he walks to me and presses something into my hand.

It's two small white round pills.

"Vicodin. For the pain." He walks back to the door, his flashlight's beam bouncing along the tile.

"Thanks," I say as he opens the door. "Your flashlight, Pat."

"What?" He frowns around the lollipop stuck in his mouth.

"Turn it off before you go outside."

"Oh, yeah." He clicks it off then slips out.

I pull the paper out and unfold it, my eyes roving over the last unfinished sentence. 'The last batch of serum is under the t-" I don't know why, but I can't resist the urge in my gut to solve this little mystery. T..t..t tampons?

My eyes flit to the top shelf where the products are stacked in rows that lean precariously to one side as if they'll fall to the floor from the force of just a mere sigh. I grab the stack with both arms, the note clamped between my teeth. All that's under the boxes and containers is empty shelf.

Too bad. I redeposit the boxes as neatly as I can, then tuck the paper between my ankle and sock. I pop the two vicodin pills into my mouth. They're acridly bitter. I hold them between my teeth. I'll have to swallow them with water later. Right now, I need to get what I came here to get.

It doesn't take me long to find it. Its on the second shelf from the top squished between a packet of sanitary wipes and a dark bottled labeled 'lubricant'. I grab the box and rip it open. Inside is a small metallic packet. On the back of the box are the instructions: Abortifacient. To be taken for elimination of pregnancy. Swallow whole with water. Take on an empty bladder. Side effects: nausea, profuse vomiting, excessive vaginal bleeding to be expected for up to ten days after, severe cramps. (All side effects not to exceed ten days. If side effects last for more than ten days, seek emergency help.)

I rip the packet open and dump the small oval pill in my palm. The side effects, although daunting, not harrowing enough to stop me. I'd rather experience the pills side effects rather than give birth to Isis' experiment baby, I think to myself looking for a bathroom.

I spot it near the area where Pat's inhalers are. Inside, its small and stale. I spot the toilet in the light of my flashlight. I spit the vicodin pills into my palm and pop the abortifacient into the empty space between my teeth. I don't feel as if I have to pee, but I don't want to risk the pill not working because my bladder hadn't been empty enough.

When I lift the lid, something inside catches my eye. I point the light into the toilet bowl. There's no water in it. Instead, a cluster of small tubes fill the opening at the base. The tubes are filled with a clear liquid and a beige rubber band holds them all together.

The toilet! The serum is in the t-. The serum is in the toilet!

I stick my hand inside and pull the cluster of tubes out. The liquid inside seems to be alive. Little circles of yellow liquid inside, just barely visible, jump and wiggle through the clearish liquid.

So, I've found the serum. Now what? What should I do with it? If Katherine the pharmacist had friends who had fled Isis and taken refuge outside of the city, doesn't that mean she is a part of us?

I remove the rubber band keeping them together. One, two, three...five tubes. I tuck each one into the waistband of my sweatpants and tighten the drawstring so they lay snug against my tummy. I don't know who Allison D is or even if she's still alive. What I do know is that she or someone she knew had friends who fled Isis and that she'd thought these little tubes important enough to risk a note to U. and endanger her safety judging by the dried blood on her coat and paper. And that's reason enough for me to think these little tubes are worth saving. Maybe I can give one to the twins. They're scientists. They can figure it out.

The scamper of small feet against the tile startles me. I emit a squeak, dropping the pill from my teeth. No! I drop to my knees to look for it, darting my flashlight around. A rat sits on its haunches in the corner under the rust stained sink. He seems unfazed by the light blaring into his eyes. In his paws, he holds something small and blue. My pill.

Well, so much for that. Theres no way I'm getting it back. I stifle the frustrated groan behind tightly pressed lips, swallow the vicodin and head for the door.

## **CHAPTER 39**

I catch up to Pat a block and a half from the candy shop.

"Took you forever," he mumbles between bites of a sugared orange slice.

"I guess not," I say jokingly. "You haven't made it back yet."

Pat grins sheepishly. "I walked slowly for you. I didn't want you walking alone."

"Thanks, Pat." I steal an orange slice from the bag gripped in his palm. "Is that why you followed me to the pharmacy too? Because I would think that Isis would've already discovered some form of medication to help with your asthma and allergies." I take a bite of the orange slice. It tastes like heaven. I close my eyes and savor it, chewing softly.

"Good, huh?" I can hear the grin in Pat's voice.

"Heavenly," I say, opening my eyes. "Now answer my question."

He averts his gaze, pretending to be fascinated with the street. "Okay." He throws his hands up, the bag of candy bouncing against his wrist. "The Isis medicine is better than the medicine here, but the last memory I have of my mother is of her tucking my inhaler inside my pockets and telling me she loved me. It was my first day of school." He shrugs. "It was the last time I saw her and as weird as it may sound to you, inhalers remind me of her. So, I collect them." He kicks at a small pebble in the road.

"I'm sorry, Pat," I say. "I'm sorry that you lost her."

He shrugs. "Don't be. Don't be sorry for me. I don't think the world was good enough for her." He pops another orange slice into this mouth and chews thoughtfully.

I get the impression there's more he wants to say. "What is it?"

He sighs hard, pushing his glasses onto his nose. "But I didn't need to go to the pharmacy this time. I stocked up last week. Don't be mad when I tell you this, okay?"

"Oookay," I say, swallowing the last of my orange slice.

"Jay asked me to follow you." He looks up at me and sees the almost anger in my eyes. "Just in case you needed help."

So, even after I'd told him that I didn't need help, he'd sent Pat to look out for me. He, like Robyn and probably everyone else, had no faith in me. I ignore Pat's imploring gaze and stare ahead into the semi-darkness. My grip on my makeshift can tightens. I feel a rage in me, bursting from my gut and searing my head. I am not helpless! I want to scream to throw something, because even though I know I'm strong and capable of being what Robyn..what Jay thinks I can't, me being bruised and battered and leaning on a cane only reinforces their false assumptions of me.

"Don't be mad. Okay, Lana?" Pat half turns to me. "I only went along with it because it's my fault you're hurt. I don't believe what Robyn says. I don't think anyone does." He takes a frustrated breath. "Jake just cares about you..that's all. You've gotta understand-"

I clamp my hand around his neck and over his mouth, quieting his words. I yank, pulling him with me behind a group of square metal trash bins in the alley. Pat protests behind my palm. I put my finger to my lips.

"Look. Guards," I whisper, pointing through the space between the rotten-smelling trash containers.

Pat stops struggling and I move my hand from his mouth. "Oh," is all he says, as he follows my finger with his eyes.

Two guards, some ten or so feet away, stroll up the alley in our direction. They don't appear to be in a hurry as they laugh and talk.

"Looks like we need to pick a new meeting spot," Pat whispers to me. "And couldn't you have picked a less smellier place to hide? Like, for instance, over there?" He points to a cluster of round top blue post office receptors.

"Robyn's rubbing off on you," I whisper, watching as his face grows red and splotchy. "Come on. We need to warn the others. We'll go around the front way towards the main street."

Pat stiffs his candy into the waist of his his pants. "How about you go and I'll stay here and be your lookout."

I peer around the bin. They've stopped in the middle of the road, their backs to us. They talk to each other, their voices low. I try to make out what they're saying but they're too far away.

"We're both going?" I tell Pat.

He pinches his nostrils together with a thumb and forefingers. "I don't see how both of us getting caught would be beneficial to the group."

I frown at him, pulling at his hand to help him stand. I'm not sure when the vicodin kicked in, but my body doesn't hurt as much, nor is the pain in my head that noticeable. "Come on. Let's go." I ignore his goran, and bite back one of my own when he leans his weight against me to stand and pain flares up in my ribs.

We slip through the two buildings as fast as we can, and we've just rounded the corner to the front of the candy shop when a movement near the door distracts me.

Another guard stands near the sidewalk that leads to the front door. I duck back around the corner, pushing Pat behind me.

He frowns. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Sssh...there's another guard in the front. He's just standing there..on the sidewalk." I lean my head against the wall, feeling sick. Had Jay and the others been caught?

"This isn't good at all." Pat folds his arms across his chest and rocks back and forth. "Oh boy. Oh, boy, 0h-"

I push a finger to his lips and peer around the corner again, trying to ignore the bad feeling in my chest. I can only hope that the others are aware that they have company.

Apparently not, because the front door opens and Jay steps out. He immediately sees the guard and disappears soundlessly back inside. I breathe a sigh of relief. "They know the guards are here," I tell Pat, who's sunk to his bottom to sit against the wall.

"Good, good," he says, plucking an inhaler from his boot and fitting it to his lips. "I thought this was it. Thought we were all goners."

I peer around the corner again. Jay creeps out the door. I hold my breath as he tiptoes up to the guard soundlessly. Just as Jay reaches him, the guard turns; his eyes show confusion for a moment, then his hand quickly dips down to the belt at his waist, closing over his knife. 

## **CHAPTER 40**

I clasp a hand across my lips to keep my scream from being heard, but I've got nothing to worry about I see as Jay grabs the guard's face with both hands and twists his arms sharply and forcefully.

The fatal snap of the guard's neck is sickening and clear in the night. I watch as Jay hoists the sagging body over his shoulders.

"Let's go, guys. We've gotta get outta here." Erwin comes around the back corner, carrying the slack body of a lifeless guard across his shoulder, too. He's followed by Eric who's also carrying a dead guard. I recognize the dead guards Eric and Erwin carry as the guards me and Pat had just seen.

I resist the urge to vomit the orange slice I ate earlier.

"Is everyone okay?" Jazz asks, coming around the corner. She's followed by Robyn and Jay. I avert my gaze of the upside down and lifeless eyes of the guard Jay carries.

"We're fine," I say and even I can hear the forced cheeriness in my voice.

"Good." Jay doesn't glance my way as he walks past me to join Eric and Erin. They dump the bodies in the trash bins that Pat and I had hidden behind earlier and jog back to us.

"Let's get outta here quick," Jay says. "We need to find a safer place to conduct business for tonight. We still need to give her the rundown." He points a thumb in my general direction.

My eyes smart and my throat gets tight, but I force a nonchalant look on my face. He has no right to be angry at me. After all, he sent Pat to look after me. He's the one who doesn't believe in me.

Pat groans. "Do we have to do that tonight?" He rubs a hand over his midsection. "My stomach hurts."

"Next time, you should take it slow with the m&ms and orange slices," Robyn says."

"There won't be a next time. We can't meet here anymore. Apparently guards are actually people and they like forbidden candy, too." Erwin grins at Jay. "No offense, Jay."

Jay shrugs. "None taken." He looks at Pat. "Yes, Patrick. We do have to do this tonight. Lana's been voted in. We need to give her details now. We never know what could happen to any of us tomorrow. Heaven forbid that all of us were to die tomorrow, except Lana. She would know nothing vital if you had your way. Then what would be the outcome of all of our past efforts?"

Pat hangs his head. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"You're fine," Jay assures him. "Now where are we headed to?"

"The library," Erwin suggests. "There's no reason for a guard to even be there. They have no brains." He laughs softly, then realizes what he's said. "No offense, Jay."

"None taken." Jay shakes his head. "The library isn't that good of a choice. If we need to run, theres only one exit."

"The morgue," Jazz offers, smiling. "It's perfect."

"Only if your idea of perfect is haunted," Pat says.

Jay smiles at Jazz. "The morgue is good. If everyone's scared to go there, that means we won't be disturbed." He looks around at everyone, skipping me to jump from Pat to Jazz, who beams, seemingly ecstatic that her suggestion was chosen. "Everyone in agreement?"

No one says anything.

"Good." Jay points to Eric. "Eric, carry Lana. Otherwise, she'd just slow us down."

What the-? I look at Jay and grit my teeth to keep the insults from spilling out. The tips of my ears feel like they're burning. I have a sudden urge to throw my makeshift cane at him.

Almost as if he can feel the heat of my gaze, Jay looks at me. I expect for him to apologize and explain his reasoning, but he doesn't. He looks at me as I discard my cane and slowly walk to where Eric stands. He doesn't tear his gaze away until Eric stoops and effortlessly hoists me onto his back.

Jay takes the lead and Eric and I make up the rear. As Eric runs, every bouncing step seems to bring back the biting pain the vicodin had seemed to quiet. That's when I no longer try to hold back my tears. I let them fall freely and fast.

I don't cry because of the pain. Though my body does hurt, the pain I feel in my ribs, legs, head and arms is nothing compared to the stifling, smothering weight in my chest. I'd rather him look at me with hate rather than how he'd looked at me just then. When he looked at me, there wasn't pity, sadness or anger in his eyes.

He'd looked at me like he didn't know me. His gaze hadn't been cold, it'd been empty. Like he wasn't the boy who'd made my stomach feel like melted butter when his lips touched mine. And that's what kills me.

********************

"This is gonna hurt just a bit." Erwin's breath tickles the back of my neck.

I'm lying on my stomach on a metal table in the basement of the morgue. Jazz had cleared the table of dust and debris and fallen ceiling tiles as well as she could and then covered the table with a stained mildewy blanket she swore weren't used, just stained and mildewed from non-use. She'd sworn that she'd found it in one of the metal cabinets folded and tucked in a pile of others. I try not to think of the dead bodies it was probably used to cover.

"He's lying." Jazz stands in front of my face. She holds my hair away from my neck. "You should brace yourself. Be ready for intense pain."

"Why thank you, Jazz," I say. I don't bother hiding my sarcasm.

Jazz bends her body so her pointy doll-like face comes into my view. "Would you rather I lie or tell you the truth? If our situations were reversed, I'd want you to be truthful rather than deceitful to me." She straightens, pulling her face from my view.

The ever practical Jazz.

"Here." Pat's boots appear alongside Jazz's. He thrusts a rusted circular rod with a rounded scoop on the end near my nose. "Bite down on this. It'll help with the pain."

"What is it?" I extend two fingers from where my hand rests underneath my chin and grab it. Dried brown spots speckle the inside of the scoop. Blood? Rust? Rusted blood?

"You don't want to know," Pat says walking away. "Just bite down on it." I hear his chuckle from somewhere behind my head, near my feet. "I can't believe Robyn volunteered to keep lookout and passed up the chance to see you in pain. Eric could've done lookout for himself."

"I think she has a thing for my brother." Eric's hands are cool and rough as he rolls the neck of my sweatshirt down towards my back.

"I think she has a thing for you," Jazz says, smoothing her hands across the back of my head and forwards to catch all of my hair.

I wince as her hand crosses the middle of my head where I'm injured. I wonder where Jay is.

"After I take out your b-tab, we'll clean the rest of you up," Erwin says, ignoring Jazz's remark. "Eric's got something that'll have you looking and feeling good as new."

In front of me, Jazz drops her hand to her side. Her first and middle fingers are red with blood. My blood. I quickly look away, staring past the rows and rows of metal tables draped in sheets, some of which lay flat and others that bunch around irregular shapes underneath them. Even though I know what's underneath, I try not to think of them. I focus instead on the white and green diamond shaped tiles and the weeds and grass that push through the spaces between them.

"Are you sure the lights being on is okay?" Pay asks. "It seems like it'd attract attention. Unwanted attention." His words are punctuated by the sound of metal clinking against metal.

Erwin applies something wet and cool to the back of my neck. "The lights won't attract any more attention than you slamming those filing doors."

"Besides," Jazz adds. "We're three floors underground. We're surrounded by solid earth."

That explains the distinct earthy smell with an underlying hint of mold. That and the bones hidden under the sheets on the tables. I'm no stranger to death, but everything about this place-from the tables carrying the bones of the long dead to the stained medical tools scattered here and there to the mold that spots the walls that had ceased to be white long ago to the heavy metal double door furnace on the other side of the room-has every hair on my arms on end with a sense of dreadful awareness.

"Ready, Lana?" Erwin's breath against the damp spot on my neck feels like ice.

"Wait," Jazz says. "Shouldn't you tell her why you're removing her b-tab? Bedside manners and all?"

"I'm sure Jay's talked to her about all of this," Erwin replies. "Besides, I'm not a doc-"

"He didn't," I say.

"Just trust us," Pay says, rolling slowly in a metal framed high back chair on wheels. "Believe me when I say you'll want it out."

"Don't needlessly scare her," Jazz scolds him.

"Yeah, yeah," Pat chides, his voice growing more distant. "You mean the way you did earlier?" His voice rises in pitch as he mimics her. "Brace yourself. It'll be the most intense pain you've ever felt in your life."

"Why you...!" Jazz sucks her teeth in exasperation at Pat's weak efforts to sound like her.

"Go get him, Jazz." A larger pair of boots appear next to Jazz's. "I've got this."

Jay. So he is here.

"I can hold it," I say as Jazz's grip loosens on my hair and I watch her petite boots pivot sharpy and quickly disappear from my limited view.

"Thanks Jay." Her footsteps echo in the brightly lit space until they disappear amidst soft peals of laughter and Pat's wheezy chortles.

My hair falls forward like a blanket; the soft curls hide Jay's boots from my view. I look instead at a single yellow dandelion that's pushed itself through a cracked tile. It's drooped over lifelessly. I feel the way it looks.

"Um, someone needs to hold the hair," Erwin says.

I hear the scissor sound of metal swiped against metal. I recognize the sound. He's sharpening his knife.

"Sorry," I mumble, reaching up to gather my hair.

My hand bumps into Jays. I pull away as if I've been stung. In a way, the feel of his warm, rough hand on mine had felt like one. He uses both his hands to gather my hair close to my forehead.

"It would do you alot of good if you stopped assuming I was helpless all of the time," I retort.

The sound of knife against sharpening tool comes to a halt.

Jay squats. He looks at me, his thick eyebrows bunched together. I can't read the emotion in his eyes, and I can't look at him long enough to label it. I look to the darkened doorway that Jazz and Pat disappeared through.

"I don't think you're helpless." His voice is hard like steel. "I think you're strong and hard willed." He exhales a ragged sigh that caresses my forehead. "And stubborn. Stubborn to the point of dangerous stupidity."

## **CHAPTER 41**

I glare at him then. "How dare you-"

"How dare I what?" Jay cuts me off. "How dare I tell you the truth? Tell you that being strong and fearless is one thing, but being stupid and pushing yourself past the breaking point when you're already injured just for the sake of saving your pride and proving a point is another?" His voice is deadly cold, yet calm. His eyes shoot daggers into mine.

I stare back at him, feeling my heartbeat thud against the metal surface of the table like a train destined to wreck. "Why do you even care?" I spit out.

Jay runs a hand through his hair. His eyes drop to the cracked tiles of the floor.

"Um, should I give you guys a second alone?" Erwin asks.

Jay shakes his head. A knot appears and disappears on his jawline rhythmically as he grits his teeth. "No," he tells Erwin. "Go ahead and take it out. We've wasted enough time tonight. We should be back inside the gates in an hour." He pushes to his feet. "I'll give Lana the rundown while you do what you do."

"Okay. I'll go on three, Lana." Erwin places the palm of his hand along the back of my head, his thumb pressing behind my left ear and a finger behind my right. "One.."

I place the metal rod between my back teeth and bite down.

"Two..."

I close my eyes, squeezing them shut tightly.

"Three."

Cold metal touches my skin, followed by the burn of antiseptic against broken skin.

"I should have told you this before," Erwin says. "But this will be a slow process. I have to follow the suture on your neck from when the put the b-tab in. That way no one at Isis is alerted by the double seam." Then he presses down and white hot pain sears my skin and shoots to the back of my eyes.

I squeeze the edge of the table with both hands in a steely grip. My toes curl in my boots. Spots-black and white-pop behind my closed eyelids. More pressure, more excruciatingly slow dragging of the knife, more knuckle-popping pain.

"Focus on my voice, Lana." Jay's voice seems light years away.

I feel the wetness rolling down my cheeks and I hate myself for it.

"So basically, the b-tab is a virus," Jay begins.

"Not true." Pat is back. "It's-"

I hear the slap of skin against skin.

"Ow," Pat says.

"Let Jay tell it." Jazz is back too.

Jay begins again. "Basically, the b-tab acts like a virus, but it really isn't one. What it does is take over all of your body systems, gradually. When it was initially implanted in you, you probably felt a surge of energy. That's the first stage of the takeover. It was attaching itself to your receptor nerves, muscles...it was learning you. After thirty days, the learning process is complete. It will have learned all of you, your weaknesses and your strengths. It then multiplies the intensity of your strengths. If you're good at memorizing things or retaining info, you master it with the help of the b-tab. If say, your strengths are more physical, your muscle growing capacity triples."

Jay kneels again. I keep my eyes closed, but he's so close I can feel his breath on my cheeks. "After the b-tab has learned your body, learned its weakness and strengths, it uses it's intelligence to eliminate the weakness and highlight your strengths, essentially making you a super human in your strength's zone. Your body begins to grow used to benefitting from the b-tab. Pretty soon, its depending on the b-tab to function."

Jazz interjects. "You won't notice the effects of the b-tab. You seem normal on the inside."

"Right," Pat agrees. "But what you don't know is that the b-tab is controlled by Isis. Somewhere on a screen, the Matriarch or any other Isis person with the right security clearance can pull you up on a screen by your unique b-tab code and basically control you and your actions by simply pushing a button. Scary, right?"

I knew the b-tab wasn't just for security reasons or for finding a lost person's location. I swallow. The back of my neck where Erwin operates has thankfully grown numb. I silently urge him to hurry. Hearing what they're saying about it makes me want it out even faster.

"Right," I say.

"Lana, your b-tab hasn't learned you yet. You've had it less than thirty days, so there's one less thing to worry about," Jay says. "On the other hand, we've never taken the b-tab out of a Birther before. I'm not sure how it'll affect your pregnancy."

I open my eyes. Jay's face is so close to mine that if I move forward just an inch, the tips of our noses will touch. He stares at me, his eyes following the slope of my nose and then lingering on my mouth. In any other circumstance, I'd be tempted to kiss him, but for now I'm still angry.

I quickly close my eyes. "It doesn't matter."

"It's probably not a real baby, anyway," Pat mutters. Silence. Then. "Well, it probably isn't."

"He's right," I say. "I don't remember having se-well, I don't remember..." My words taper off and my cheeks get hot.

"I don't remember either," Jay says, rescuing me from my fumble. "So, you're okay with the possible consequences?"

I nod, keeping my eyes closed. If I don't know what happened the night I spent with Jay, and neither does he, then who does?

## **CHAPTER 42**

After an immense bout of pressure and a slight tug, Erwin taps me on my back. "All done. Eric and Rob should be back in a minute, then we'll get you all cleaned up, so we can get outta here."

I sit up, with a helping hand from Jazz. Jay releases my hair and I hear him leave the room. My neck aches and there's a lingering throbbing pain in my head, but at least its over with.

Erwin pulls a small white cloth from a pack belted under his shirt and around his waist and vigorously swipes at something in his hand. When he's done, he opens his palm to me.

Lying there is a thin square shaped disk. It glows in the palm of his upturned hand.

"Here." He pushes his hand to me. "This belongs to you."

"I take it between two fingers and stare at it. The blue luminescence orbs in and out beautifully.

"Funny how something so pretty can be so evil, huh?" Erwin swipes the flat sides of his knife's blade against another cleaning cloth.

At that moment, Robyn, Eric and Jay come around the corner. Jay laughs at something Robyn says. I wonder what she's saying that's so funny to him.

"Speaking of something so pretty being so evil..." Pat mumbles under his breath.

I turn back around to Erwin quickly before either of them catch me looking. Too quickly. I lose my balance and almost fall off the table.

"Careful." Erwin saves me with a well-placed hand against my shoulder. He maneuvers me back into a sitting position. "Your body was growing accustomed to the perks of the b-tab. Now that its out, you might feel a bit unbalanced or sluggish."

"What should I do with it?" I lift a hand to my neck, suddenly curious to know what it feels like.

"Don't." Pat slaps my hand away. "Eric hasn't done his magic, yet."

Eric comes to stand by me. In his usual fashion, he says nothing as he pulls a small clear tin and flat wooden stick from a pack around his waist-the exact kind that his brother wears. Mouth tight in concentration, he gathers my hair onto my head and secures it, then walks behind me.

His fingers are coated in something smooth and pleasantly warm as he smooths them against the skin on the back of my neck. The feeling in my neck returns, but the pain is gone. Next he pulls apart my hair and dabs at my scalp with something wet and cool. I grit my teeth against the pain. When he tosses the used pad onto the table next to me, it's soaked dark red. He applies the salve to my scalp. It tingles, then the pain vanishes and a warmth radiates there.

No one speaks as Eric administers to me, applying the salve to every place my body is bruised or bloodied. At my knee, he spreads the salve onto the scraped skin there and massages it in with a gentle thumb. When he pulls away, my knee looks and feels like new. The bruises are gone and my skin is unmarked.

"How....?"

"Magic." Erwin says, jokingly, before helping me off the table.

"What's in it?"

"You mean the ingredients?" Erwin asks.

I nod my head.

"Only he knows." He points to the b-tab still clutched between my fingers. "You might want to put that back in. Here." He takes it from my grasp and slips it into my neck.

"Time to head back," Jay says. He stands near the doorway.

Pat chases Jazz out the room as Robyn follows them, warning them to keep the noise down.

"We take the tabs out when we're doing undercover work in Isis," Erwin informs me as I walk between him and ERic towards the door. "If you replace your b-tab with someone else's, you become that person."

At my puzzled glance, he explains, "Not forever, just until the tab is taken out....and you don't really become them truly. Only physically. Inside, you're still you."

We step out into the dark hallway. Behind us Jay flicks the lights off.

"How does switching tabs with someone else and becoming another person benefit you?" I ask, still a bit confused, as we walk up the first two flights of the stairs leading the way out.

"Well, by using the b-tab of another person-say, someone who belongs to a clan that has access to information none of us have access to-we gain access to that info."

"But what about the person you're taking the b-tab from? I'm sure they don't just willingly hand over their tabs, right?" I stumble on a step, misjudging its distance. Strong hands on my back steady me.

"Thank you," I tell Erwin. "That's, what? The fourth time you've saved my neck today."

In the darkness, Erwin's teeth flash white. "That wasn't me, and I've saved your neck three times today."

"I'm sorry," Jay says stiffly behind me. "I would've asked your permission to help you, but by the time I'd have gotten it, you would've already broken your neck." He slips between Eric and I, and I see that we're at the double door exit.

Robyn, Jazz and Pat sit against the wall.

"Dang," Robyn says, standing to her feet. "I feel like I've been waiting on you guys all night tonight." She cuts her eyes at me. "I hope that doesn't become the norm."

"Tonight _has_ been a weird night," Pat grumbles. "I can't believe I'm about to say this but I'm actually ready to go back to Isis just for a somewhat lumpy bed."

Jay walks to the door. "You know the rules. Stick close, be quiet and keep up."

Even though he's not looking at me when he says the last part, my cheeks still burn. I'm suddenly happy for the darkness.

"Ready to go back to hell?" Pat asks me as we squeeze out the door together.

I shrug absently, my mind preoccupied with the convo Erwin and I had earlier. A feeling of having missed something of importance niggles at the edges of my brain. I brush it off as we silently make our way back to the hills on the edge of town.

It's only when I'm clambering up the hill after Pat, dodging the loose rubble kicked free by his boots, that I realize whats bother me about what Erwin had said about the b-tab. He'd said that the underground resistance uses others' by-tabs to pretend to be someone else. Well, who's to say that everyone here is who they say they are?

"Need a hand?" Jay stands on the edge of the ledge, an arm extended to me.

I hadn't realized that I'd stopped climbing, one hand clawing a rock half embedded into the dirt for leverage and the other hand absently rubbing at the small square raised portion on my neck where my b-tab is.

I look up at Jay, at his square jawline, at his low cut black hair, to his lean fingers thrust out to me and back to his jawline. Despite the way he makes me feel, despite the way his mere presence seems to make me giddy and light, I don't really know him. He could be anyone.

My eyes follow the faint line of stubble along his cheek and suddenly the hair becomes a scar-a jagged scar..One all too familiar.

I stumble backwards as his face transforms into hers-cold and haughty. His curls are replaced by a mop of orange-gold strands. He-she throws back her head and laughs.

I'm trapped and she knows it. My hands feel at the earth around me, desperately-hoping to find something to use in my defense.

## **CHAPTER 43**

"Lana, are you okay?"

I blink, my fingers curling around a small stone. The Matriarch is gone. In her place is Jay again. "I'm fine." I drop the stone and climb the remaining hill.

The others wait in the trees up ahead. I see their shadowy figures in the darkness.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jay asks as we walk to where the others wait. "You're not acting like yourself today..like the Lana I know." He lowers his voice as we reach the group. "In fact, lately I've been feeling like I don't know you at all."

I look at him, then. I see the wrinkle in his brow, the slight sag of his lean shoulders. All the anger I've felt at him tonight melts away..I have a sudden urge to wrap my arms around him and stay pressed to his chest. I want to reassure him that I'm still me and that he doesn't need to worry, but the words don't come out.

Just for a second, his eyes flash hurt. He blinks and it's gone, replaced by an emptiness. The same look of nothingness he'd given me earlier when I'd refused his help outside the candy shop. "Maybe I don't know you," he whispers just low enough for me to hear. "Maybe I never did."

He breaks into a jog and I fall into place behind Pat.

"Maybe you never did," I say softly, my chest so tight it feels like it might pop any minute.

"What?" Pat fails in his attempt to turn to look at me while he jogs. He stumbles over his own feet.

"Nothing," I reply. I watch the moon slip behind the trees and wonder if Eric's magic salve works just as well on soothing spurned hearts.

## **CHAPTER 44**

"Pat, what's your job?" Robyn stands on her bed, the top of her white cap almost brushing the low ceiling. The bottom half of her is clad in a pair of black sweatpants. A black cotton bra completes her ensemble.

"Um," Pat stutters, his face even redder than usual. His eyes twitch nervously, landing everywhere but at Robyn.

From my position on the floor near the head of Robyn's bed, I bite my lip to hide my smile at Pat's reaction to Robyn's almost half-nakedness.

"Pat!" Robyn snaps her fingers. "Pay attention. Focus," she hisses.

"I'm the l-lookout," Pat manages to finally sputter, his eyes focused on the well worn carpet.

It's two nights later and we're all at Robyn's place. Tonight is my first mission. Part of me is proud and eager to be a part of a group working against Isis. The other part is nervous and queasy. I swipe my sweaty palms against my oversized black tee. I'm going undercover as a guard and the large clothes look comical on my small frame. I lean my head against the wall and will the knotted ball of tension in my stomach to go away. I close my eyes. 'I can do this. I have to do this. For me. For Uriah.'

"Lana!"

At the sound of Robyn's voice, my eyes fly open. She's bent over me, her eyes shooting fire. "Oh my god, is everyone just not paying attention tonight...of all freaking nights?" She rolls her eyes.

I'm tempted to roll mine back, but I don't. I don't need any negative karma tonight.

"You're going with Jay to the control booth..Get with him," she snaps at me dismissively. "He'll tell you the rest in detail. I don't have the time or patience."

I look at Jay. He sits under the shuttered window, his long legs pulled up and slightly agape. He stares at me, but I can't read his expression. We haven't talked or see each other in a while-partly because I'd been holed up in my room since the outing into town and partly because the underground resistance hadn't held a meeting since then.

Until tonight. I tear my eyes away and push to my feet. What we're doing tonight is bigger than either Jay or mye. Tonight isn't about us or how we've hurt each other in the past.

"So, I hear I'm paired with you," I say. I sit cross-legged next to him on the floor, close enough to hear him, but far enough away so I won't smell him.

"Yeah. Looks like we're partners," he replies, swiveling around to face me and closing the distance in space I'd established.

Being so close to him does strange things to my chest. I meet his gaze for just a second before focusing on my thumbs. I can't let myself get captivated by his good looks if i can't truly know who he is. And I can't truly know who he is....Unless..

My eyes dart upwards. There is a way to discover who he really is.

"Take it out," I say.

His face is a question mark. His brows wrinkle together. "What?"

"Take it out," I repeat this time louder. I stand up. "Everybody..take them out."

The room goes silent. The twins sitting near the foot of the bed look at me and then at each other. Robyn sucks her teeth still standing on her bed. Pat stares at me, his lips spreading slowly upwards.

"It took you long enough," Jay says.

I look at him to see him smiling at me, his full lips upturned slightly. "Here." He reaches behind his neck and shows me his tab. "Satisfied?"

I nod, puzzled. "So you knew I was gonna ask?"

"Certainly," Pat says, holding his tab in the air.

"If you hadn't," Eric says, "..it would've looked bad on you." He waves tab in the air. "And here's Eric's." He pulls his brothers from his neck and holds it up, too.

Robyn smirks. "Took you long enough, new girl." She sneers and I see her tab clamped between her teeth.

"Not long enough for you to win," Erwin says, holding out a hand to her. "What's that? Under a week? Pay up."

Robyn falls back onto her bed, then she pulls off her cap and tosses it to him. "I don't know how thats a win for you, anyways." She pouts, ruffling her short hair.

"Oh, it's definitely a win," Erwin replies, turning to grin at her while stuffing the cap into his waistband. "What else would I call getting to see more of your face?"

Robyn giggles and throws a pillow at him. I guess Jazz was right. She does have a thing for Erwin, and gauging by the goofy grin splitting his face from ear to ear, so does he.

I frown. "Where's Jazz?"

Robyn ducks her head underneath her bed and retrieves a golden wrist watch. "Late," she says. "Or about to be, if her butt isn't her in two minutes."

"Jazz-" Pat begins.

A knock sounds at the door, and Pat halts mid-sentence. Two soft, two hard and then another harder-than the first four.

Fear grabs my throat in a vise grip. I've only been a part of the group for a short while, yet even I know thats not the correct sequence of knocks.

Pat's face has gone white. He steps backwards against the door and stumbles over Erwin's outstretched legs. Eric leaps sprightly to his feet. I hadn't seen him reach for his knife, but somehow he had it; it's gripped in his right hand. I get a flashback of the time he'd held the same knife to my neck. I shudder.

Robyn gives Pat a reproachful look then holds her finger to her lips. "Yes?" she calls out.

There's no response on the other side of the door. Robyn beckons Eric closer with a nod of her head. He takes his position to the side of the door, his knife ready to connect with whoevers on the other side of it.

Robyn puts a hand on he knob. 'On three,' she mouths to Eric. 'One..'

"Wait a minute," I hiss, planting myself between Eric and Robyn. "That last knock wasn't really a knock. I ignore Robyn's death glare and her pointer finger telling me to get back. "It sounded like something hitting the door by mistake."

"Yeah, or someone doesn't know the correct sequence of knocks, and therefore shouldn't know about our meetings," Pat interjects.

"Jay, come get your girl," Robyn whispers ignoring me and shooting Pat a warning glare to be quiet.

I've had enough. My hand is on the knob and the door is open in my next breath. I catch her halfway to the ground. 

## **CHAPTER 45**

"Jazz?" I struggle under her weight. She's tiny but her dead weight is still staggering.

Eric sheaths his knife and both he and Jay reach me at the same time. They lift her from my grasp and deposit her on onto the bed. Robyn mutters expletives under her breath and locks the door.

Pat cries as he sits near Jazz's feet by the foot of the bed. I don't blame him. Jazz looks as if she's been used as someone's private punching bag. She looks like a broken doll lying atop Robyn's faded blanket. Her face is almost unrecognizable, a mass of purple knots and grotesque swelling. One eyes is swollen shut and the other is open just a slit. Blood oozes from her nose, and her lips and cheeks are swollen to extreme disfigured puffiness.

I smooth her hair back from where it sticks in a matted clump against her forehead. What the hell happened to her? "Eric, use your salve?" I blurt out, remembering the 'magic' concoction.

Jazz lifts a frail hand in protest, before it flops back down onto her stomach. Her lips move slightly, but no sound comes out.

"What'd she say?" Pat sniffles.

I put my ear against her busted blood caked lips. "Jazz, I know it hurts, but you've gotta tell us what happened, honey. Who did this to you?"

Jazz's breath is ragged in my ear. I wave in Eric's direction for him to come closer. He stands between Pat and his brother near the foot of the bed. If anyone ever needed his magic potion, it's Jazz.

Jazz gurgles a sound. I can't make it out. I steal a glance at Eric. He shakes his head, his eyes falling to his feet.

"Suspi...sp.." Jazz swallows. Even that must hurt, because a lone tear squeezes from the eye shut tight and seeps into her hairline. "Suh...spiiii...sha..."

"Suspicious?" I ask anxiously. My ear is all but pressed to her mouth, but her breathing is ragged, making it hard to make out what she says, and it doesn't help that I can hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Jazz nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Her tongue darts at her lower lip. "N-n-nooo magic." Her lower face wrinkles into a mask, her version of a feeble smile.

My heart cracks for her. Who on earth would do this to Jazz? Sweet, practical Jazz. "The salve is suspicious?" I blink back the tears threatening to spill on her.

"We can't use the salve," Erwin confirms. "Whoever did this to her was an official. If she were to show up tomorrow morning to her clan-"

"She's a floater," Pat interjects. "She doesn't have a clan."

Erwin nods. "Even still if she were to show up with no bruises to whoever she reports to tomorrow, it would look suspicious."

"Do you have a clean cloth?" I ask him. "Does your canteen have water in it?" I ask Jay.

They both shake their heads, and with the water and the cloths, I make a wet cool cloth pack to lie across Jazz's forehead. With another cloth, I begin to gently clean her face of blood. Jay pulls his canteen from his belt and nudges it to her bloated lips.

"The mission..." Jazz attempts to speak again after she takes a slow sip. "You'll...be..late.."

Jay closes the canteen. "She's right. We can't miss this chance. We need to do this mission." He places the canteen back into it's appropriate holder on his belt. "Eric, do you mind taking over as lookout for Pat? It'd mean you'd have to split from your brother for this one."

Eric and Erwin exchange somber looks. Eric gives Erwin a nod.

"He'll do it," Erwin says.

"Pat?" Jay walks to Pat and places an arm around his round shoulders. "You're gonna sit out on this one; you've got a more important mission." He places the canteen in Pat's hands. "Take care of Jazz while we're gone, okay? Don't answer the door for anyone who doesn't use the knock, kay?"

Pat swipes at his wet face. "Sure thing." He sits next to Jazz, his round wavering eyes never leaving her face.

"Good." Jay points to me. "Lana, we've still got control. Robyn you're job is the same-grab the papers. Eric, yours is still the same, too-shadow Robyn. From a distance." He glances at the black rubber watch on his wrist. "We're cutting it close, people. Let's go."

The last thing I see before walking out the door behind the twins is Jazz's mangled face resting on Robyn's sad excuse for a pillow and Pat's downtrodden one as he leans over her to adjust the bandage on her head. I don't know why Jazz was beaten, I don't know what she did, but I do know that whatever she did wasn't worth her being pummeled halfway to her death.

I catch a sudden chill, as I realize the error in my thinking. What am I thinking? This isn't the old world where people are punished for doing wrong; in this world, people are punished and killed for doing nothing. I can't help wondering if that'll be me next, lying somewhere beaten to an unrecognizable pulp because I refuse to share my family's whereabouts. Or worse. Uriah.

## **CHAPTER 46**

"Remember your part?"

Jay's voice in my ear tears my thoughts away from Jazz and back to the present. We're huddled behind one of the square frames that holds the large light bulb illuminating the stone tiled walkway. The walkway leads to the tall building that towers above us-the control room.

I nod, staring at my hands-or rather the hands of the guard whose b-tab radiates in my neck. "Flip the electricity switch to off at quarter past eleven." I move my hairy big-knuckled hands against my muscled thighs. "Being in someone else's body is strange enough for me, but the itchy material of the uniform makes it even worse.

Jay presses a small plastic needle into my hands. "If you run into trouble, use this."

I turn the tub in my hand. The needle is long and thin.It glints evily in the darkness. "Do you usually run into trouble? I thought that's what the b-tabs are for..to prevent run-ins with trouble.."

Jay shrugs. "We haven't so far. It's just for precaution. It's always better to be prepared for the worst." he lifts his hand upward to reveal the small razor pinched between his third and fourth knuckles. Then he grins, his eyes roving over my face and hands.

"What?" I wrap my fingers around the warm plastic.

"You." His grin gets wider. "It's so weird hearing your voice coming from that body." He thumps my arm. "I wasn't aware that birthers were so...muscular."

I roll my eyes, but can't help the smile on my lips. "I wasn't aware muscular men-birthers were your type." I retort, satisfied when the grin slides off his face.

"Whatever," he mumbles looking towards the trees on the left of the building. He glances at his wrist watch. "Should be any minute now." A worried frown tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"What are we waiting for?" I follow his gaze to the tree line, but I see nothing but the black outline of trees.

"For the signal to go," he murmurs, glancing at his watch again. "Hope everything's okay."

That familiar sense of dread is just beginning to blossom in the pit of my stomach when a light flashes from somewhere in the woods. One, two..three times it beams in rapid succession.

"That's it. Let's go," Jay says. "It's about time."

I stand to my feet, the night air like a kiss of coolness on my face. The light box radiates heat and my body had been growing slick with sweat while we hunkered behind it.

"Jay, come on." I'm eager to get this done and over with. Adrenaline pumps through my limbs as I scan our surroundings. I'm not sure if it's inspired by fear or eagerness. Most likely the first.

Jay frowns, still hunkered down behind the light. He stares at the woods, frowning.

"Jay?"

Jay reaches upwards, grabs my arm and tanks me back down behind the box. The needle, still clasped in my grip jabs against something solid and slips from my grip as I tumble backwards onto the ground.

"What-"

Jay holds a finger to his lips. "There was a fourth flicker. Eric shone the light four times."

"What does four beams mean?" I scramble in the darkness, searching frantically for the needle.

"It means we've got company," Jay says, wincing as he rubs his wrist. "You fell on my wrist. It may be sprained."

I frown at him, my frown turning into a relieved sigh as my fingers close over the plastic body of the needle. "You're the one who pulled me down on you, Mr. Blame-it-on-me."

"Sssh.." Jay leaves the shelter of the light box and scoots slowly backwards under the shadows of the neatly trimmed hedges that line the pathway. He motions with a finger for me to do the same.

I've just tucked my feet under the bush and out of sight, when two guards appear from the corner of the marble baluster framing the entrance to the control building. They descend the stairs, as they talk in hushed voices.

I peer through the leaves. The light from the light boxes illuminates them clearly as they walk down the path and closer to us, and for a second I catch an unhindered look at the two of them.

"....night duty." The darker one throws back his head and laughs.

A bug buzzes annoyingly in my ear. I slap at it.

Jay grabs at my hand and points upwards at the ceiling of prickly leaves and pointy branches above our heads. They jiggle slightly, a reaction to my quick movement. I nod, understanding his unspoken point. Any move I make, makes the shrubs move, too.

They're abreast of us now. So close that if I move the tip of my boot forward a hair, it'd touch the side of the boots of the guard closest to us.

"Wait," the other says.

Their boots come to a halt directly in front of us, and my mind turns to mush. _They 've seen us!_

I cut my eyes to Jay, not wanting to move my head for fear the bushes will move. The shake of his head is almost imperceptible. His hand curls reassuringly around my wrist.

"What?" The other guard sounds impatient.

The bug is back again. I hear it buzzing around my ear. Then it settles on the back of my neck, crawling around until it reaches the base of my throat. I dig my nails into Jay's palm to resist the urge to slap at it.

"Did we lock up?"

The short dark guy groans. "Templeton, you're losing it man. Sergeant what's-his-face stayed late, remember?" He spits and the glistening glob lands no further than two inches from the heel of my boot. I avert my gaze from the dark brown slimy mess and close my eyes to shut the image out.

"What the hell did he do to you, man? Ever since you went out on patrol with him, you've been acting different. All weird and stuff."

I hear him snort again and I squeeze my eyes tighter.

"He's sick, man," the guy named Templeton whispers. "He made me-" his voice chokes off.

I open my eyes. The right boot of Templeton's friend taps against the tile.

Templeton starts again. "I volunteered for patrol with him, right?"

"Yeah, I remember. No one else wanted to. I definitely didn't. Rumor has it that he's crazy, and I've only been here a few weeks, yet I know if somebody labels you as crazy up in here, then you are really loco." His boots turn to face me. "And you're crazy for volunteering."

"Yeah, well, wait 'til you hear this. He caught an orphan out in the streets-a little boy. Richard, I'm talking a tyke..a wee slip of a thing-" His voice breaks again.

"Get it together, man." Richard resumes his boot-tapping.

"Sorry." A sniffle, then.. "Anyways, he set the little boy on fire."

A sharp inhale. Richard's boots stop mid tap. "No way."

My breath catches in my throat. Templeton was the guard I'd watched through the binoculars-the younger one who'd been forced to shoot the boy's dog. Jay's hand tightens around mine.

"No lie. I swear on my mum's grave. He tied this kid to our truck and lit him on fire. Then he...he made me shoot the dog, man." More sniffling.

"I knew he was crazy, Temp. I can see it in his eyes. He's sick in the head."

Templeton loudly blows his nose. "When I was chosen for the guard clan, I was proud, proud to be a part of this elite group. I never knew I'd be killing little kids." He's full on sobbing softly now. "I thought town patrol was rounding up people in town and bringing them back here so they can stay virus-free. Now, I just don't know what to think..."

Richard claps him on the shoulder. "You didn't kill that boy. He did. Remember that. Come on, Temp. You'll feel better after you get some sleep. Tomorrow's Testing Day 1. You know all your skills?"

I watch their boots disappear into the darkness. My lungs burn and my throat aches and I realize I've been holding my breath.

"Let's go, Lana." Jay loosens his grasp on my hand. "We've got-" he glances at his watch..."eight minutes to make it to the top."

I crawl from the bushes and crane my neck to the top of the control tower. A soft light glows from the mushroom shaped glass walled top level of the building-our destination. Energy pumps through me and I have the sudden urge to move. The needle clutched in my hand is hot from my body heat. This time I'm sure of the source of my adrenaline. I can rule out fear. I'm no longer afraid. I realize now that I have no use for fear-no need to fear-because men like the man who sits in that lit room on the top floor cannot be stopped if I'm afraid.

"Come on, Jay," I whisper behind me, refusing to tear my gaze from the window.

Just then I see him. He walks across the room, his profile visible through the floor to ceiling glass windows. Even from here, the crooked arch of his nose as well as the cruel twist of his mouth is clearly visible. He takes a swig from his canteen.

An image of the little boy, dirty and half-starved pops into my thoughts. In my head, I see the hungry, licking flames again. The needle in my hand itches. Nothing would give me more pleasure right now than to plunge this needle into his neck.

"Jay. Come on!" I follow up my fervent whisper with a quick glance behind me, tearing my eyes from the window and Sgt. McKillington.

My heart slides to my feet when I see Jay.

## **CHAPTER 47**

Jay is still hidden under the bushes, but his body slumps slightly to one side. His eyes are half closed and sweat drips from his forehead in small beads of moisture.

"Jay!" I dive into the shelter of the branches next to him. I take his face between my hands. "What's wrong. What happened to you?"

Jay lifts his eyelids slowly, as if doing so is a burden to him. His breath is labored and heavy. "It's alright. I'm fine." His lips turn upwards into a grin that doesn't reach the opposite side of his face. "Remember when I said you'd sprained my wrist?"

My tongue is dry, my mouth feels like I've taken a bite off of a sand block. He doesn't look good at all. He looks like Domini did when that snake bit him. I gently lift his left wrist from where he cradles it between his right hand and stomach. Other than how his hand flops around weakly, I see no bruises around his wrists or lower arm.

"Well, it's not sprained, that's for sure. You shot me with your needle." Jay forces a laugh that dies somewhere between his throat and his lips-lips that have gone completely slack on the right side.

I unfurl my fingers. The needle lies in my palm. On its tip is a droplet of wetness. I drop it like a hot rock. "Jay, I'm sorry." I turn his wrist upwards. Under the base of his thumb is a small red droplet of blood. "What's gonna happen? How poisonous is this stuff? Are you going to die?" I fling my arms around his neck. What have I done? My stifled sobs choke me as his head leans heavily against mine.

"Lana." His breath is much more labored now. It's like he's fighting for each one. "It's not poison. It causes temporary paralysis and unconsciousness."

I pull away to look at him. The entire left side of his face seems to have no muscle control. It droops downwards towards his chin. "How long does it last?"

"Twenty minush..." He smiles again, or at least attempts to. I blink back tears. "I won't remember anything when I wake up." With his right hand, he retrieves the needle from the ground and closes my fingers around it. "You're gonna need this for the guard upstairs."

My jaw drops. "I can't do this by myself." My voice is full on panicky-a mirror to the feeling swirling around in my gut.

"Yes, you can." Jay attempts another smile. This time it only reaches the right corner of his top lip. It looks more like one of Robyn's signature sneers. A trickle of sweat drips down his nose. "Remember, turn off the electricity at fifteen past eleven." He points to the needle. "Be careful with that, Dangerous Lana. If you prick yourself, we're definitely doomed." He places his right hand heavily on my empty hand. "You can do this. You know you can. I know you can." His right eye-his left eye is completely closed now-drops to his watch. "So go do it. And be quick. Robyn's counting on you."

I nod, staring at his good eye. Even with the effects of the drug, he's still handsome. I swipe at the sweat on his brow, ignoring is weak attempt to push me away. "I'll be back soon to get you," I tell him, right before his good eye goes bad and closes. His legs, no longer beign held up by capable muscles, slide away from his body.

A few seconds later, and I've managed to maneuver his legs and conceal them underneath the bush. If I didn't know any better, Id think Jay was asleep. But I do know better. I pat at the moisture on his forehead. What if he lied? What if it really is poison in the needle and he lied to make sure I'd

finish the mission because he knew if I knew the truth, I'd abandon the mission and seek help for him. That sounds like something he'd do-that's the kind of person he is: good, brave...and sweet, even if he never shows the world that side of him, I know it to be true.

I put my ear to his mouth. He's still breathing. Good. I place my head on his chest and breathe in his scent. "If you lied to me about this Jay, I'll personally kill you myself," I whisper against his uniform. I press my lips to his gently.

I shove the needle-point upwards-into my pants pocket, swallow the stone in my throat and make my way to the steps. I've got a date with a needle and a devil, and I don't intend to miss it.

No matter how badly I really want to.

## **CHAPTER 48**

Inside, I'm faced with a dilemma. Stairs or elevator? A quick check of my watch makes the decision for me. I walk past the empty beige metal desk a couple feet from the door. A plastic tag on the otherwise empty desk reads: SECURITY GUARD (entry only accessible to persons possessing SG tags.) I touch the plastic sheathed piece of paper hanging around my neck by a clear string. Good thing I'd had the sense to lift it from Jay's neck after he passed out.

I frown as my eyes rove the cream colored walls of the tiny room. Where's the elevator? Next to a row of pictures on the wall is a black door. The gold letters stamped on it read 'STAIRWELL'. Another glance at my watch tells me I have no time at all to take the stairs to the top floor. I certainly don't have time to waste looking for the elevator either.

I'm just passing by the last wall portrait, a painting of the Matriarch looking her stoic and cold usual self, when my toe nudges something on the floor. I catch myself from sprawling headfirst into the door leading to the stairs by a hand thrown against the wall. My fingers sting smartly and I snatch them away. There's a small shard of glass embedded in the pad of my middle finger. I glance at the wall, frowning. The Matriarch stares back at me behind the cracked glass of her frame.

I'd broken her portrait or rather the frame. Too bad. I bite down on my teeth and pull the splint of glass from my finger, dropping it to the floor. It settles against the tile, its crooked edges glint faintly in the mid darkness. Something circular and black sits near it-almost touching my boot. The something I'd tripped over and almost killed myself because of.

I swipe at it with the tip of my boot, but it doesn't move. Instead, a circle of light shines on me from somewhere above my head. I squint upwards but the light is too bright for me to make out anything.

In the next instant, a circular pane of glass shoots downwards, encapsulating me inside. The scream rising in my throat dies, as the harsh light turns into a softer blue one, and I see the thin blue line that leads from my feet, travels under the glass tube and circles the perimeter of the room. The blue block letters that make up the line spell 'elevator lane'.

I giggle to myself as a holographic number pad appears on the glass in front of me. 'Please press the number of the floor you wish to be transported to,' a computerized voice says from above me. I recognize the voice. It's the same one that comes from the service pad in my room.

I press ten, my hands trembling slightly as I remember who is on the tenth floor. I take a deep breath and focus on my rather large boots. The needle in my pocket glints. The elevator whooshes upward. Knowing I have the needle gives me a small surge of confidence, but it does nothing to quell the tremble in my legs as the elevator comes to a stop and I find myself standing on the tile of the third floor, the only thing separating me from the stocky wedge of man inside is the thin glass of the elevator capsule.

Then with a soft gust of air, that too is gone, and its just me and him-me wondering how on earth I'll pull this off and if he can somehow see the way my legs shake and him, staring at me quizzically over the canteen he holds to his lips.

His deep set eyes take complete inventory of me, rowing upwards from my boots that hide sweaty unstable feet to my body's previous owner's mop of shaggy brown hair.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

## **CHAPTER 49**

Sergeant Jelks-according to his name tag-sets down his canteen with a thump on the corner of the table just under the window. The contents, not water I'm guessing from their golden brown color, slosh over the side of it and land on the slick white pad that cushions the base of a sleek screened monitor on top of the table.

I peer past him to get a better look at the screen. The face of it is squared off into sections across the screen. In the upper right square is a road. It's empty and dark, the only light coming from the streetlamps alongside of it. I recognize the stre street lights. They're the ones out in town. I trickle of fear rolls down the back of my neck. They have cameras out in town?

My eyes slide to the next square image in the upper right corner. I recognize it as the processing room. I also recognize the woman bent over the figure of a small boy. Kate, she'd called herself.

The middle image is the size of the top two images. It spans the screen's entire width. I bite back the bile in my stomach as I see the familiar ten foot fences, watch the rows of boys and girls sandwiched between them. My fingers knot into fists of their own accord as I watch a guard swing back his arm and then bring it forward forcefully, the palm of his hand connecting with the rounded cheek of a tall thin boy. The boy's entire head whips to the side from the force of the blow and when he turns it back around, three jagged red lines man his cheek. The guard grabs the boy's face in his hand, and I see the metal rings around each of his knuckles.

The screen goes black, and my head whips upwards to see Sergeant Jelks not a foot from my face.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" He pushes the end of the remote he'd used to turn the monitor off against the tip of my nose hard.

I blink back the pain and force my eyes to meet his. I'd been so captivated by the video feed that I'd almost forgotten what i came here for-almost forgotten about him. Dumb mistake.

The room isn't large. With two long desks pushed against the walls and filled with panels of blinking lights, the only free space is the rectangular opening in the middle, and most of that is taken up by several chairs placed intermittently under the two tables.

He makes the space seem suffocatingly smaller. If he stood on tiptoe, his golden blonde coif would brush the ceiling. He is much taller than I remember him to be, but then again, I'm not far away looking at him through binoculars either. Right now, I really wish that I were.

"That question requires an answer," he says menacingly. He glowers down at me from his lofty position above my head. His breath reeks of the sharp scent of alcohol.

I swallow the urge to fan the foul air from my face. "I'm a trainee, and-"

"Don't insult me," he sneers, stepping closer until the tips of his boots meet with mine. "I know you're a trainee." He jerks the cuff of my sleeve upwards and shoves it against my cheek.

The single circle of fabric that borders my cuff-a symbol only worn by guard trainees-is the exact shade of the smeared blood on my forefinger. I close my eyes and silently pray that he doesn't notice the needle. It suddenly feels like a brick in my pocket.

"Answer the question," he growls, letting my arm drop.

My eyes dart open. Who am I? My gaze slides down to my name tag. I'm grateful that he's much taller than I am. If he doesn't deem me suspicious now, certainly seeing me read my own name from my name tag would've been a red flag.

"I'm Trainee Thompson and I'm-"

I don't have time to steel myself for the slap. It is quick and cutting. I reel backwards against the table to my left. My foot strikes something on the floor. The elevator button. The whoosh of air as it shoots downwards from the ceilings stings my cheek. I cradle my jaw in my hand and when I pull it away, blood spots it.

Something oozes from the corner of my lips, but I don't bother swiping at the blood as I right myself.

Sergeant Jelks grasps me roughly by a handful of my jacket just under my neck. "You think you sly, boy?" His other hand forces my head upwards, pinching my chin between his callused fingers.

I glance at the watch buried in the thick golden hair of his arm. I'm running out of time.

Spit peppers my face as he presses his face to mine. "I know you're a trainee and I know your damn name." He drops my chin to flick my name tag with a thick finger. "What I wanna know is why the heck you're here, right now, on my shift without me knowing about it beforehand?"

He drops me and turns to grab his canteen. "And don't you give me a smart answer this time," he adds as he turns back to me, twisting the cap off. As he lifts the canteen to his lips and tilts back his head, I see the blood there, dark and bright against the white plastic.

My blood. He'd used his canteen to hit me. Heat flushes my face.

He swallows hard, the overly large knot in his throat bobbing up and down. "Speak, boy," he mutters, swiping at the brown wetness that drips down his chin. His eyes are slightly unfocused and glazed as he lifts them up to the ceiling and gulps some more.

I glance at my watch. "Sir, I want to be the best guard I can be," I begin. My left hand reaches into my pocket. "I love being a guard and one day I want to be the best at it. I want to be the best guard Isis has ever had." I keep my eyes fixed on him like a hawk. His exposed throat ripples as he guzzles, the bulky muscles there rippling.

I decide to aim for his neck.

He takes a final swig and glares at me. My hand stills, halfway out of my pocket, the needle clutched tightly in my fist.

"You'll never be the best. Not as long as I'm alive." His hair hands shake as he fumbles with rescuing the lid.

"I understand that, sir," I say. "All I wanted to do tonight was learn from the best-from you, so maybe one day I can become the be-"

His glare immediately deepens.

"-Second best," I correct myself, stealing a glance at his watch. I don't want to take the risk of looking at mine as it's on my left arm and the needle is in my left hand.

Sergeant Jelks succeeds in screwing the lid on and turns to places his canteen on the shelf. In his drunken state, he stumbles and the canteen rolls off the edge of the desk and under it. He curses as he heavily drops to his knees, searching for it.

My watch taunts me. If I'm to do this, it has to be now. I pull the needle fully from my pocket. Sergeant Jelks curses and groans on his knees to my right.

I push the syringe forward just a bit. I've risked too much already for the needle to not work when I need it to. I'm reassured by the bubble of liquid that emits from the tip of it.

"What the hell you think you doing?"

A cold block freezes my chest as I whip around to see Sgt. Jelks looking at me.

## **CHAPTER 50**

He's still on his hands and knees, but he's no longer under the table. He clutches his flasks in one hand and the other hand fumbles at his belt. He's either reaching for his gun or his knife.

My blood turns hot and my heartbeat slips into overdrive as I leap. I don't even think. Can't afford to. I don't know what he's reaching for, but I'm not waiting to find out.

I land on his back, hard. The contact jars me, sending a bolt of pain through my midsection.

"You piece of-" He rages and twists like a wild bull, trying to throw me from his back.

He succeeds in doing so, and I land with a thump on my side in front of him, the needle flung from my grasp. I watch, horrified and helpless, as it slides across the floor and out of view beneath the table.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sergeant Jelks words are slurred and he's out of breath.

I scramble across the floor and grab the needle. When I turn around, I see that he's succeeded in unsnapping the pouch that holds his knife. I leap just as he pulls it free, a deadly triumphant growl erupting from his throat. But this time I've learned my lesson, and I waste no time in plunging the needle into the veiny bulges of his neck.

His growl turns into a whimper as I push the needles entire contents into his sweaty flesh. The knife slips from his slack fingers and clatters to the floor. He's next, falling onto his side beside it, his face a contorted mask of surprise, anger and fear.

I stand to my feet. My entire body trembles. With shaky hands, I pocket the empty needle.

"You....you....you dog." His head rests heavily against the tiles. The right side of his face is already going stiff. "You infidel. You're a t-t-traitor to Isis. You..pay." His left eye closes and both his arms lose tension. They sag next to his body like limp noodles. "I will see to it." His other eye closes and his legs flop out.

I frown. His paralysis happened more quickly than Jays. Had I killed him? I peer at him closely. I can't tell if he's breathing or no. His girth makes it hard for me to distinguish a rise and fall in his chest. I bring my ear to his mouth.

I recoil. He's still very much alive and in need of a bath and a good teeth brushing, too. I pinch my nose as I back away. Maybe it was the alcohol that made the drug work so quickly on him. I make a mental note to ask Pat when I see him.

The lights! Am I late? I check my watch as I scramble to my feet. Ten seconds!

The panic balloon in my bursts when I reach the table. All of the buttons look the same, small and black. I dart to the other table. Same here. They're all unlabeled and look like exact replicas of each other.

Eight seconds. I close my eyes and force myself to think. What'd Jay said? _Table on the right._ But was that the table on the right as I come in or looking out towards the door as I am now? Six seconds. I pivot, my back facing the door and turn to the table on my right. _Second row, third button from left._ Or had he said third row, second button from left? My finger hovers over the small button, as my heartbeat thunders in my ears.

Four seconds. Come on, Lana. Think! This is all I need right now: to screw my first mission up. That would make Robyn's day. Think, dammit. No time. It's now or never. I take a deep breath as my watch counts down the final seconds. Three..two...one. My finger touches smooth rubber. I press down. 

## **CHAPTER 51**

The grin on my lips is immediate when the small room goes dark. Through the window, I see lights throughout the compound disappear and I release the breath from my lungs. I keep my finger pressed down; my mind is clearer now. I can more clearly remember the rules Jay had hastily given me. _Press the button for sixty seconds._

I use my free hand to press the background light on my watch. My thoughts turn to the others. Robyn should be grabbing the papers right now. I glance at my watch again. Times up, Robyn. I send a quick wish that everything's gone smoothly on their end. Then I release the button, and the light comes on again. A second later, little blocks of light reappear outside, too. I throw back my head and give a silent, relief filled laugh.

Mission accomplished. I look to wear Jelks is sprawled motionless on the floor. Almost.

I stoop and pick up his knife, holding it in the palm of my hand. The weight is poignantly familiar and a pang of homesickness rushes through my chest as I think of home. I run my finger along the edge of the blade, testing its sharpness.

Just as Mr. Pritchard had taught me to. He would always tell me that a dull knife is useless. He'd randomly snatch mine from its sheath and run his thumb along it. "Lana," he'd say, a twinkle in his wrinkled eyes. "You're breaking my heart. Knifes are meant to be sharp. They're knives for a reason." Then he'd toss a sharpening rock at me.

Wetness falls on my hand bringing me back to the present. I hastily dry my eyes with the back of my hand and resheath Jelk's knife. According to Jay, he shouldn't remember anything about our encounter when he wakes. But if he wakes and finds his knife out of his sheath he may have cause to wonder why. Or maybe not. His canteen lies on its side near the elevator button on the floor. I kick it closer to him. It comes to a stop near his meaty hands.

The same hands that had done unspeakable things to an innocent boy just days earlier. I don't even think twice before I lift my boot and stomp. The sickening crunch of his knuckles underneath my heel turns my stomach, but is oddly satisfying as I walk to the elevator shaft.

I'm just about to press the button with my boot when the tell tale swoosh of air signaling the arrival of the elevator hits my ears. I've got company.

## **CHAPTER 52**

I dive under the service panel table closest to me. And just in the nick of time. From my hiding spot, I see a blurred figure through the elevator glass as it zips upwards, the ding of the elevator as it stops, and then continues upwards, leaving behind its human deposit in the control room.

I hadn't been able to make out any definite features as the elevator moved too quickly , but I had noticed the uniform form the blur of colors.

It's a guard. My assumption is confirmed when he takes a step forward and the familiar bottom half of his uniform appears in plain view a few feet from me.

I press myself backwards into the shadows under the table and hold my breath.

Only two thoughts occupy my mind. One: I am sick of surveying people by way of their bottom half. My eyes rove over his prostrate form. Two: I shouldn't have been so quick to resheath Sergeant Evil's knife.

The boots pause at Jelk's head and then promptly step over it and make their way towards me.

My hands slide soundlessly over the empty sheath in my own guard belt and I inwardly groan. When Robyn had given me my uniform earlier, I'd asked about the lack of tools in my belt. She'd ignored my question completely. Pat instead answered, explaining that uniforms aren't hard to come by, but weapons and tools, not so much. He told me that Isis keeps weapons under lock, key and the eyes of many guards.

Too bad. A weapon would definitely come in handy right now.

The boots come to a stop behind the chair in whose shadow I lurk. I tug at the clasp on my empty guard's belt. I can use it as a whip, if I can get it loose. No such luck.

The needle! I slip it from my pocket. Only a drop remains in the tube but it doesn't matter. The needle is a weapon itself. I grip it in my sweaty fist and hold it up, prepared to jab it into his flesh.

I'm still planning my mode of attack, when a large hand swoops underneath and grabs my arm. I struggle against him using my feet against the tip of the table for leverage. But he is strong and my resistance is futile. His hand is clenched around my wrist that holds the needle, so I can't jab him as I'd planned. He tugs again and the table shakes slightly. I drop the needle, intending to catch it with my free hand, but almost as if my tormentor can read my mind, he thrusts a second hand underneath to capture my free arm. With a final pull, he jerks me free from my hiding place and pulls me to my feet so that I'm face to face with him.

But I don't have time to look at his face; I bring my knee back and up hard in a last resort move to break free. I'm expecting for my knee bone to connect with soft flesh. I'm expecting for him to hold the space between his thighs and keels over. But that doesn't happen.

When I swing my knee up with all my might, it connects with something solid and it's me who sinks to the floor clutching my throbbing knee in pain.

The guard scoops and hooks his arm beneath my arm, effectively lifting me to my feet-or foot; I can't put weight on the leg with the injured knee. I sigh defeatedly, and between sharp gasps I silently pray that it isn't broken.

He pulls something from his left side. A knife. long curving. I stiffen, the pain in my knee forgotten. A may-be-shattered knee is the least of my concerns.

The guards grip on my arm tightens. My eyes meet his. Even though my stomach quakes with a heavy fear, if I'm to die right now, I'll do it with my head held high.

Deep set eyes plunked into the flesh of a wide face stare back at me. His lids are fleshy and flushed bright pink, whereas the rest of his face is blotchy. He cocks his head to the side. Looks from me to the knife and back again. He lifts the arm holding the knife into the air slowly all the while keeping his rolly face on me-his eyes fastened on mine.

Something tugs at my gut amidst the fear that makes a home there. I can't place the feeling. I wonder if it's some unique emotion that only people who are faced with death can feel. I follow the curving arc of the oversized knife, my eyes settling on the two point sloping tip. I frown. I've seen this knife before. Something about it...even the way he holds it is familiar.

I turn then to look fully at him. Although the knife looks familiar, the guard holding it certainly doesn't. Fleshy jowls hang in folds of excess around his neck and from his cheeks. Sweat tumbles from the perspiration soaked tuft of short black hair that stands upwards from his forehead and drips downwards, losing themselves in the folds of his face and then reappearing again to drop down to his chin. His breath sputters between lips in surprising contrast to the rest of him-small and thin. The force of his exhale causes the moisture gathered around his mouth to flick free every now and then.

My eyes are drawn back to the hand gripped around the knife's blade-to the odd style in which he clutches it: the forefinger on the same side as the thumb and the others circling around the other side.

What are the odds...? I frown. 

## **CHAPTER 53**

"Eric?"

He inclines his head.

I hug him then. Relief courses through me. The glass of the elevator conceals my chuckles of laughter as we ride down. Eric observes me from his side of the glass and a small smile dusts his lips.

It's only when we've arrived on the first floor when he finally lets go, throws back his head and laughs, too.

And it's then, as I open the door and the glare from the box light hits us for a split second before we take shelter in the shadows, that I see the empty space in his mouth where his tongue should be.

Eric and his tongue-or rather the lack of it-are still on my brain when we get back to Robyn's. Pat Erwin, and Robyn huddle around a large paper spread open in the middle of the bed. Erwin leaps off the bed and grasps Eric in a hug like they've been separated for years.

"Got it?" Jay asks, looking over Pat's shoulder.

"I sure did," Robyn says. She smirks confidently at jay as she lightly thumps the paper.

"We got it," I correct her, before I can stop myself.

Robyn's response is a lift of her eyebrow and a quick roll of her eyes. "Looks like new girls first mission lit a fire in her birther granny-style panties," she mutters, turning her attention back to the paper.

I ignore her and busy myself with taking my boots off. I wince as I rub my sore feet. I've got newfound respect for Jay and the twins. They were these heavy clunky things all day.

Eric and Erwin settle themselves on the bed, Erwin next to Robyn. "Good job everyone," Erwin says, clapping his hands together. "That includes you, too," he adds, bumping shoulders against Robyn's.

"You know I always deliver," Robyn says smugly.

Pat huffs. "Okay, now that everyone is informed of how great a job we did, can you-" He points at me- "please take your tab out? Your new image is starting to freak me out." he glances at Robyn's clock. "Besides, you've had it in for a total of twenty eight minutes and three seconds. You like to live on the edge, huh? Cutting it close."

I slip the tab from my neck and grab on to my pants waistband. As I merge back into myself, the clothes begin to fall off my smaller frame. The only thing I need right now is for my pants to fall down. "Whose tab do I have anyway? Shouldn't he be getting it back?"

Eric and Pat dissolve into laughter.

Robyn grunts. "Newbie alert."

After Pat manages to stop laughing and coughing, he says, "Believe me, Lana, the poor guy this belongs to has absolutely no use for it anymore." He takes the tab from my hand and tosses it to Robyn.

Robyn reaches backwards under her bed and pulls out a small candy tin full of b-tabs. She adds it to the pile and closes the tin before stashing it back underneath her bed.

"I'll explain later," Jay says, noting my confused look. "Here." He places a stack of clothes in my hands-my birther uniform-then he pulls me to the window where he stands between me and the others. "I'll be your privacy," he says winking at me and raising his arms out by his sides.

I smile as I quickly rid myself of the clothes. "Oooooo, thanks for using your arms. They provide so much additional privacy," I chide.

Jay chuckles and the sound is like a ray of sunshine to my ears. It feels good to joke around with him again. "Yeah, yeah," he says. "Just let me know when you're done."

I adjust my dress. "Done."

"Good." Jay turns to me, his face gone serious. "I wanted to thank you for taking the time to hide me," he says, his voice low. "You know...when I was zonked out at control.."

I shrug. My belly feels like a thousand butterflies are flying inside. I curse my body for how it reacts. I've been around him all night practically, and now is the time it betrays me and threatens to melt into a puddle of goo. "It was the right thing to do," say, struggling to keep my voice even and as nonchalant as possible.

I keep my eyes on the gold button just below his neck. Somehow my hands have made their way to the front of my dress and the material is being wrung round and round between them. I drop the fabric and press my open hands to my thighs to wipe the sweat from them.

"Well, I wanted to thank you earlier, but I figured it'd be awkward." His breath is warm against my flushed forehead.

I force a laugh past my lips. It comes out a bit too high. "Again, I only did what I was supposed to. Besides..." I gesture past him to the bed.

Everyone else is engaged in a whispered though enthusiastic conversation. The words 'security', 'guards', and 'access points' are being thrown around liberally.

"...you should be thanking Eric. His paste is what brought you back around before the usual thirty minutes." My head whips upwards. "Wait, why would it have been awkward?"

Jay cups his fingers under my chin and gently tilts my face upwards. "Because," he says softly, his eyes glued on mine, "..when I kiss you, I prefer to kiss you in your own body and not as someone else."

When his lips meet mine, the butterflies in my stomach turn into a warm flame. His lips move against my own so gently that my breath catches in my throat. And when he pulls away after what seems an eternity, my hands act of their own accord and clutch his white tee where it peeks through a gap of his unbuttoned jacket.

I feel like if I let go, I wil surely slip to the floor, my bones having already turned to liquid mush. So, I hold on. He leans his forehead against my own. I close my eyes and savor the weight of his head, his warm exhales tingling every bit of my lips and his long fingers that run electric filled circles along the middle of my back.

Everyone else in the room ceases to exist. It's just me and him. I think back to the first time he'd touched me this way. I'd been scared then, locked in his embrace, surrounded by wine-drunken birthers and their prospective guards; I hadn't trusted him then, hadn't known enough of him to do so.

I chuckled softly against his face.

Jay pulls his head back just enough to gaze at me. His brows crinkle together. "What's so funny?" He closes the gap again to plant a soft kiss on my chin.

"Remember the first time you rubbed my back like that?" I burrow my nose into his neck and close my eyes as I breathe in his scent.

Jay's low chuckle rumbles against my cheek. "I remember every minute I've spent with you," he says.

His tone is matter of fact, as if the opposite is unthinkable. My heart flutters.

"And yes, I do remember. I still have the permanent bruise on my feet from when you kicked me. So there's no way I can ever forget that. Even if I wanted to."

"Really?" I lift my head to look at him. "I'm sorry-" The gleam in his eyes stops me. "Jay!" I give him a playful punch on his shoulder.

Jay grins and shrugs. "What? If I wasn't wearing my boots, I probably would have had a permanent reminder of how mean you are."

He deftly dodges my next punch and grabs my hand. "Come on. Let's explore the goodies we lost our lives for today."

I open my mouth to remind him that he'd been knocked out under some bushes the entire time I'd risked my life. Then I realize that I'd sound just like Robyn, and I promptly shut it. 
THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO DOWNLOAD AND READ!

I hope you enjoyed The Girl Who Remained Elusive: Part 3. I had a blast writing it! If you'd like to know what happens next, stay tuned by emailing me at whitopag@gmail.com

As an author, I love honest feedback. If you took the time to read Part 1, 2 or 3 feel free to let me know exactly what you think of it: the good or the bad. You can let me know what you liked or didn't like by either:

**(1) Leaving a review on Amazon (Honest reviews are hard to come by. If you 've read my work, I encourage you to leave one.)**

**(2) Calling me out/Shouting me out at my twitter handle @WhitOPag**

**(3) Telling me how you feel by email: whitopag @ gmail**

**(4) Using #TGWRE to discuss on twitter**

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

Regards,

Whitney Pagano
