The Immune

24. Imprisoned

As the guards lead us back down the stairwell to the basement, everything seems colder. The cuffs pinch at my wrists, and my skin grows raw from squirming. No one speaks.

Why should we? I couldn't form words over the knot in my throat if I wanted to. How stupid can I be? I checked the sign outside the door. I heard my dad's warnings. Isaac was even warning me.

And I ignored all of them because I just had to try and save the day. The world's stupidest hero.

The feeling of betrayal stings slightly less than the regret. Dad was working with Hartley. He didn't stop me from coming to the Research Facility, didn't even say anything to me about what was ahead. How could he do this? And what will Hartley do with him now?

There was a cure! For five minutes, I stood in the same room as the world's hope from the virus. Dad's redemption was right beside me. He put everything at risk to create it.

So, why help Hartley trick me into destroying it? Not that he needed much help. I walked into it like a starving mouse going after a peanut-butter trap.

When we reach the basement door, the guards holding Isaac wrench it open. It slams against the wall, but neither of them pay any mind. They jerk us inside, past rows of old-fashioned metal cells. A door opens at the end, and we're thrown together inside.

The same door shuts with a loud clang, and the guards leave. The room falls silent as their footfalls fade up the staircase.

I walk backwards until I meet a wall and then slide down it. My knees come up to my chin; my head falls weakly.

"Jaelyn." Isaac's whisper creeps across the cell at me. "Jaelyn," he repeats when I don't look up.

I can't, though. Doesn't he understand that? Everything we did was for nothing. Clare and Stephen are more than likely captured or dead; Hartley will still spread the second strand. Everyone who died at the Alma will have died in vain because I was stupid. I'm a disappointment.

I don't deserve to look at him.

"Jay," Isaac says, gently, walking towards me. He drags his feet across the concrete. "It's going to be okay."

Anger hits me, and I look up with a glare. Tears glide down my cheeks. "Okay? It's going to be okay?" I can't stop myself from shouting, even when he backs away from me. "Nothing is okay! Even you can't spin this a different way! It's over, Isaac. OVER!"

Isaac sinks back against the wall, his cuffs clattering. "I'm sorry..."

I know it's not his fault; I shouldn't snap at him. Yet, everything is building to a tense head, and I fear I might explode.

The room falls quiet. Raindrops pelt a window high above our heads. The awkward fluorescent lights bear down on us.

"We can't give up," Isaac finally says. He drops down to his knees in front of me, but I look away. "They're counting on us. Clare and Stephen are still in the compound. They're dead if we don't get them out."

"They might already be." My head lifts. "Dad was working with Hartley. He knew I would come to the house first, and I bet he turned them over the moment we left."

Isaac thinks for a moment. "Then why aren't they here?"

"I don't know." He's right, though. Maybe, somehow, by a streak of wild luck, Stephen and Clare got out or hid. This is where they would bring them if the guards got them.

"We have to try and get out," he continues.

"There isn't a way out."

"There has to be. With a little planning, maybe—"