The Deathless Trilogy

2.27. Resistance

I creep out of the empty Comforter's quarters, and see that the drones are back up and running. One buzzes at me from the end of the hallway, at the top of the staircase.

I load my slingshot, and fire a spike into the drone's gears, just like I did with my shiv. It sputters, and I see I've disabled one of its propellers, but it continues to fly crookedly toward me. I load again, and shoot another spike at its body, which bounces off, close enough that I could dive and use it to reload. The drone hurries, faster now that it sees I'm a threat, so I brace myself, and throw up my arms.

The working propellers cut through my skin as if it were putty, but once it slows, I use my bloodied forearms to push it to the ground. It bounces off the oriental rug, but I catch it mid-rise, and slam it back onto the floor, throwing myself on top. I'm holding the propellers down, but they still lacerate my hands. I jab one of the spikes into its gears, and push it down until the drone sputters to rest.

Being so close to the drone, it is easy to find the camera, so I lift the dead ball of metal to my face, and say, "C'mon, Gunther, you know where I am. Come and find me." I throw the drone behind me, and race into the next room I find: Mitchell's.

As I enter, I am swallowed by forest green. Like my mom's eyes. No. I can't think about her now. I race to the computer and immersion program. I should save it, ask that Jane take it before they go, but where would the fun be in that? I run and grab the chair at what I assume is Mitchell's work desk, and cross back to the computer. With one downward stroke, I smash the chair over the computer, and watch splinters fall between the cracks in the keys. I smash and smash and smash, until I am only holding a sliver of wood, which I throw across the room.

Screw Mitchell.

I grab the computer, covered in splinters of wood, hold it over my head, and walk over to the window, looking out over the Carrier's quarters.

Pregnant women, going about their business in the yard, are relaxing on chaise loungers and sipping juice. They have no idea what has happened outside of their area of the mansion.

I muster my strength, which is quickly leaving me with the lack of blood and sleep and food, and chuck the computer over my head and out of the window. Gasps permeate the yard. I see Tanya look up at me, and yell something, like I'm supposed to give a damn what she says. So I yell, "Get out! Go to the hangar! You will be saved!" Of course, no one listens to me. Why listen to the crazy girl who just threw a computer out of the window?

"Why should we?" Tanya yells, echoing my thoughts.

"Because you're pregnant with science experiments, and Gunther won't need you once you give birth!" I yell, and then, I lie, "That's what happened with Ava and Eleanor, you know. They were found, but the traveling caused them to have miscarriages, so the soldiers were ordered to kill them!"

"What?" another Carrier calls.

"It's true!" I yell, "Get out!" So much for not lying.

That's when they start to move, and I turn back to Mitchell's immersion program. I think of Declan standing in front of it. His face as he pressed the buttons, nervous and uncertain. I miss him so much.

I grab the program board, ready to toss it out the window, too, when I remember that a virtual copy of my mom may still be left over from our times inside. I pop Nate's drive out of the program, and toss it out the window instead of the entire board. Goodbye, Nate. Goodbye, files from the Immortal. They were never supposed to be here anyway.

Something stirs behind me, so I load my slingshot and turn to see Ian. "Come with me," he says mechanically.

This time, I don't try to reason with him, I know now I can't. So I release my fingers from the spike, sending it into his arm. I chase after the spike—faster than time, faster than light—until I, too, crash into Ian. I tackle him to the floor, like he's a drone, like he's weightless, and I sit on top of him. Even though he's my friend, I can't stop my fists from pummeling his face. He knew my home, he knew my family, he knew what I lost. And he—the mind-controlled version of him—helped destroy it all.