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SUMMER WAS NOTHING more than a pipe-dream. The countless nights spent dreaming of feeling the sun on their deprived skin, gone to waste as the elevator rose to the surface and left the subjects engulfed in a sea of frigid air and cloudy skies. Almost instantly, their moods sank. Except for Subject Nine's. She didn't care if it was the dead of winter or the dawn of summer, she was just happy to finally be outside for the first time. The surface elevator rose to the very top of a hill, a light layer of snow sheeted over the ground where there should have been grass.
And even then, looking out at a motionless Boston, surrounded by lifeless trees and vacant houses, she swore she had never seen something so disastrously beautiful.
A smile appeared on her face for the first time in a long time. In the small moment that she stepped off of the platform and into the snow, she forgot all about the massacre just beneath them in the facility. She turned in the slightest way, an unfamiliar grin plastered on her face.
Everyone formed a smile almost identical and began to step off of the platform until Subject Eleven stepped forward with a solemn look on her face. "Um, I don't mean to be a, uh, a party-pooper, but... I have to go home," she spoke up, and then glanced towards the subject with the six printed on his arm. "I know you said we have to get to DC," she told him, "but I need to check on my family. Either you can all come with me or I'll just go by myself, I don't really..." She wanted to finish her sentence with the word care, but that would've been an utter lie. She would've preferred company, in all honesty. She wasn't sure what to expect when she got home and having people to accompany her would ease some of the fear, but not all.
"We should stick together," was the younger subject's vague reply. It widened her eyes; did he really deny her the chance to see her family? Her house wasn't at all far from the facility; in fact, her employer was very strict about making sure she lived close to work. It wouldn't even take an hour to get there on foot, and with all of the supplies, she knew it'd be worth it. She opened her mouth to protest, to say anything to convince him to follow her, but he cut her off with, "You lead the way."
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As The Dozen approached a new street, Eleven was gradually becoming more and more nostalgic of her surroundings. The very street she remembered teaching her son to ride a bike on, filled in with the houses of neighbors who adored both her and her family dearly. Laying eyes on the paneling of her own house only urged her into a rushed sprint. Her ears filled with her own panicked breath, her shoes smacking against the cement with every quickened step. By the time the rest of the subjects decided to haltingly run after her, she was already hurrying onto her porch and wrapping a shaky around the cold doorknob.
