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She shrugs, as though I’ve just mentioned an inconsequential detail, as opposed to, y’know,a giant fucking gunfight at a freaking engagement party. “Some people need to learn the hard way,” she sighs. “Now—get in the car.”
I turn when I hear a mechanical growl. Off to the side is an anonymous black sedan, engine humming, another burly brute standing at the passenger door waiting to usher me in.
I cross my arms and stand my ground. “I’m not going anywhere until I know that my family is safe.”
She rolls her eyes in exasperation. “What makes you think I’m going to give you a choice?”
“For God’s sake!” I scream, ready to tear my hair out by the roots. “Have some humanity!”
“Humanity,” Mila repeats neutrally, as though the word is alien to her. “What humanity? Humanity left this world a long time ago, little girl. If you stick around long enough, you’ll come to realize that, too. Now, get the fuck in the car before I make you.”
She doesn’t reach for her gun, but she doesn’t have to. I can see the determination in her eyes, the certainty that she will do exactly what she’s threatening.
I don’t want to be the person who crosses her.
So I do what she advised me to do back in the tunnel: I accept my fate.
I get into the car and she joins me in the rear. As we roll away from the property, I stare out the windows. They’re tinted so dark that all the color in the world is reduced to shades of gray, but that feels somehow fitting. There’s not a trace of yellow to be seen anywhere. I wring my hands together, praying to God that Mom is okay.
Even as I know she isn’t.
20
TAYLOR
“Ow!” I gasp, keeling forward at a sudden stab of pain and grabbing my stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Mila asks.
“I…I can’t breathe…”
She scoots closer to me and cups the back of my neck. Her hands are cool and dry. “Put your head between your legs.” She gently pushes me down into position. “And breathe deeply.”
“I…I… What if she’s dead?” I gasp, trying to suck in air between my words. “She can’t be dead… If she’s dead, how can she beat the cancer…? Oh, God, something hurts…”
“Take deep breaths,” Mila instructs from just above me. She barks something at the driver in what I’m fairly sure is Russian. We pick up speed. The engine whines and growls beneath us.
I can breathe better hunched over like this, but it’s not doing a thing for my panic. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mom’s face. The shock, the horror, the numbness. It’s how she looked when the doctor told her she had cancer. When I found her at the kitchen table with the phone in her hand humming a dull dial tone, the call long since ended but the news of her sickness still fresh and terrifying.
And the rest of my family… I haven’t even seen what happened to Dad and Celine. Who knows where they are? If they’re okay? If they found a tunnel like I did, or if the bullets found them first?
The more I think, the more I spiral. I see Mom lying on the grass, blood spilling out of her as the life drains from her.
And what did I do?
I ran.
Is that the last image she’ll be left with? The fleeting sight of her own daughter fleeing in the opposite direction after witnessing her get shot?
“Taylor!” Mila yells.
I jerk upright, wild with panic. “We have to go back.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“W-what?”
I look down at my torso, the same place Mom had been shot, expecting to see blood there. Is it possible that I was hit as well and just didn’t notice? It would explain why I have this pain in my side.
