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I glimpse at myself in the reflections. Soaking wet and small, my shirt hanging off of one bruised shoulder, and my hands tied behind my back. I watch my own eyes burn back at me, furious I’m back where it all started. I might as well be in that field, pointing a gun at my brother-in-law.
Disgusted, I lower my head and keep walking, thinking of that moment, wishing I’d done something different. Maybe if I’d acted sooner. If I hadn’t worried so much about myself and Dean and had seen what was in front of me the whole time. I could have taken us away — fled before it was too late.
My mind picks awful moments to attack the present, and I know something’s shifting in me, the thoughts invading despite the awful timing.
The grass of our fields brushes my legs and sweat trickles down the back of my shirt, making me shiver. My arms burn from holding the gun with tense muscles, afraid to breathe, afraid to shoot.
I don’t want to go back.
My feet falter with the memory because it’s more than an image from the past that comes to my mind. I’m thrust back to that place and to that time, standing inside my nightmare and seeing it all over again.
Please, no.
My heart thuds in my ears while I watch BeLew running, sprinting for their lives. My brother-in-law aims his weapon at my sister, not caring that her body stands between us. The sound of gunfire rings in my ears, two shots too fast to know which came first. They’re so loud that I gasp and I fall to the ground.
This doesn’t help us. I don’t want to see this.
The field is gone, BeLew’s cries cease, and the picture of my sister fades to nothing as she falls to a heap on the ground. All that’s left is a dull echo of the gunshot, and my vision blurs with tears as I stare down at a steel floor. My rescuer steps back toward me, every stride booming with frustration, his large black boots coming into view.
I’m back.
“We have to go,” he barks. I don’t make it all the way to standing before he turns and continues walking.
I square my shoulders as best I can and force myself to keep going.
Fuck, do they know I killed my brother-in-law?
He had a title at one time, something that made him feel more important than the coward that he was. I don’t think they could know, but I decide that secret is safe with me. How could they prove it without Dean?
Dean.
Was he the man I saw coming toward me in that field, feet faltering beneath him, chasing me through the wind? No, I decide, still unsure if it was real. It felt real, but that meant nothing. Everything feels too real and too raw.
“What’s your name?” I whisper. My rescuer hears me. His shoulders rise, and he slows, allowing me to catch up to his stride. A few moments pass when I open my mouth to ask again.
“Wha—“
“Alexander,” he answers, every syllable tense. He wants to tell me, but knows he shouldn’t. It’s too personal for a representative of the AOE escorting a prisoner to give out their first name.
We reach the end of the hall where people bustle around on the other side of the glass doors. They’re dressed in uniforms, some like Alexander’s, but others are jumpsuits of different colors. I even see someone wearing robes look at us through the glass.
“I wish we’d met under better circumstances,” I confess.
He places a hand on the wall beside the door until it flashes green and opens. Returning his firm grip back to my arm, he pulls me as I struggle to walk beside him, my toes almost trailing along the floor. I don’t miss the way he swallows hard, looking me over once more with sad eyes, but his mask is back in place before anyone else notices. We speed through an open room covered in homage to the AOE’s leaders, and bile rises in my throat.
“Disciple Morgan,” a voice comes from my side. Alexander stiffens, his grip tightening against my skin, but he keeps walking. “What have you here?”
“Infiltrator from above ground,” he answers. “She’s going into holding.”
The man shakes his head. “I felt such confliction about opening the ceiling.”
Alexander eyes the man carefully, slowing his steps.
“However,” the man continues. “I would never question his decisions, so it must be for a great purpose. How ever did she get in?”
Alexander looks back ahead, avoiding the man’s accusing gaze, and walks faster, dragging me along beside him. “If you will kindly excuse my abrupt departure, I need to deliver her.”
The man looks me over, a lip rising in disgust at my appearance, not that I blame him. “I’ll inform the council. The Eminent will not be pleased.”
