Page 55 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

“I didn’t do it.”

“Messages inside your head? Remember that little conversation?”

“That was you!”

“Yeah. Back at the tower. But I wasn’t in your head when the car stopped. And just before you woke up you were talking to people. Mumbling, ‘Who are you. Who are you?’”

I think about that for a little bit. Because he’s right. My head did hurt. “There’s static in there,” I say.

“What kind?” he asks. Like people say this all the time and he just needs a little clarification to understand it better.

“Are there different kinds?” I ask.

“Describe it,” he practically snarls.

Dick. “Like… like an in-between radio signal. Static like that. And lights flashing. There were words too.”

“What do they say?”

“Just… ‘Sadie, Sadie, Sadie.’ Calling me. You know.”

“Prodigy?” he asks.

“Probably. But then, just before I woke up, they said, ‘Where are you, where are you, where are you?’ Three times. Just like that.”

“They’re looking for you.”

“Obviously.” I roll my eyes.

“It’s some kind of transmission. And now that I know that—thanks for the punctual update, by the way—that’s probably who came to the tower. You were broadcasting to them. You’re probably still broadcasting to them. So hey, bright side.” He fake-laughs. “Looks like we’ll be rescued. Too bad it’s gonna be a bunch of mad scientists who come looking for us.”

We think about that for a long, long time. Time in the dark passes in strange ways and I spend it thinking about the green gas. Then not-dying, whatever that means. And probably going unconscious, at least. Waking up back wherever it was I came from, I guess.

It might all be my fault.

And just then, when I think it can’t possibly get any worse, the flashlight is flickering. Which means the phone is dying.

We really are stuck here. We really are fucked.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to mess things up. I don’t understand anything and I don’t know what I’m doing but I don’t want to go back there. I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want to go back there.”

“Well, Thomas and I don’t agree on much. But we are both one hundred percent on board with staying the fuck out of the grip of Prodigy School.” He sucks in some air and pauses. “We were so fucking close, too. So fucking close.”

“Close to what?” I ask, tipping my head up so I can see his face. It’s still lit up from below. Reflecting eerie shadows onto his cheeks.

“Revenge. We have the perfect plan. And even though I scared the fuck out of Thomas last month when all that shit went down and he tried to blow his fucking head off with a goddamned gun—as if that would make things better—just to get rid of me again…” He stops to sigh. “I was only there to help. That’s all. I just wanted to be there when it all finally went down. And now look. I’m stuck in a grave I made myself. With a girl who has no idea what’s going on. With a plan that can’t even be implemented because my satellites—well, technically, they belong to Thomas, but anyway, our satellites are the trigger that starts the ball rolling and Case won’t be able to initiate Lincoln’s program without them.” He pauses again. More in control when he speaks. “In case you’re wondering what all that has to do with anything, I’m the only one who can initiate the satellites. Irony can suck my dick.”

I almost find him funny. Almost. “Well, maybe next time you should consider letting your team in on your secrets. Then they can carry on without you. And you sure do swear a lot more than Thomas. I think he’s the good twin.”

“Fuck off.”

I laugh. I should be insulted, but he’s frustrated and defeated. And this is the asshole who tied me up and touched me twice. This is the asshole who made himself out to be a god who had all the answers.

His depression lifts my spirits.

“So let me see if I can put all this together. Thomas used drugs to keep you away for all these years. Locked you up in his head by eliminating his emotions. Then that Case dude shot him with something that messed up all his perfectly laid plans. That released you from your prison. And when Thomas figured out you were back, he tried to blow you out of his mind with a gun. Stop me when I get it wrong.”

“Ding. Ding. Ding,” he says, mocking me with his slow words.