The Unknown

xxxvii.

Jason was gone.

After our little trial, he had begun screaming bloody murder, just as he'd threatened. The music in the bar downstairs grew louder, meaning Rosalie's father had heard the commotion and was trying his best to mask it.

To prevent us from being discovered, Dorian had to secure Jason in a chokehold until he went quiet. Some of the others stared with shock or turned away from the violent scene—Jason writhing and gasping for air—until a tense silence claimed the room.

It occurred to me that we wouldn't be able to take Jason beyond city limits—not with guards on patrol, with him screaming and thrashing. It would very likely get us caught...again. And for him, it wasn't worth the effort. In my mind, we had only two remaining options: kill him or turn him in.

Something in me was against the first choice; the thought of being involved in a murder made ice run through the core of my bones. Yet, after what he'd done, it felt like Jason didn't deserve an ounce of mercy. But who knows—depending on what the government decided to do with him, the second fate could have been worse than the first. I shuddered at the mental image of the kids locked in cells for three entire years.

Of course, the second decision also meant that we would need to disappear immediately: if one of us was caught, the guards might suspect the rest were still in city limits and search the entire district.

Ultimately, we all talked it out and held a second vote—all while Jason gradually regained consciousness—and decided to turn him in. 

It seemed fitting, as it was exactly what he had done to us. An eye for an eye.

So we found a length of rope in the attic and tightly tied Jason's wrists and ankles. It didn't take long to locate a wanted poster with his face on it, which we taped to his forehead. Dorian, who liked this plan better than the last, eagerly volunteered to drop Jason on a shadowy street corner before darting out of sight.

For good measure, Kyle and I watched from a block down the street as a woman stopped, hovered uncertainly over the bound figure, then drew the attention of a guard. Jason had fully awoken and was struggling against his bindings as more guards swarmed. They hauled him into a black armored truck, perhaps never to see the light of day again.

I was bursting with satisfaction, smiling from ear to ear.

***

It had been nice reentering civilization and, for a brief time, having something close to a home and plenty of food. But now, perhaps at the worst time—when icy undercurrents of winter air were sweeping in—we needed to run again. There was a distinct sense of change on the horizon.

Kyle and I were making our way to our new meetup point, weaving through a web of narrow alleyways. The location was near the border where we intended to make our escape in the night. Kyle needed to stop often, out of breath or tense with masked pain. Thankfully, we had plenty of time until sunset.

"You know, there was a moment where I actually trusted Jason." I stared at the ground as the words drifted from my lips with little forethought. "What he did—it made me think...how can you trust anyone, even your closest friends? You can never be certain that anyone is really on your side." I glanced up at him. His stare was tired but intense. "But I can trust you. Right?" I paused. "Never mind, I don't know what I'm saying..."

He stepped forward until I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes, grasping both of my freezing hands and drawing me toward him. His heat melted the cold around us, and the comforting scent of his leather jacket met my nose. "I would never betray you."

A smile played at the edges of his lips. Then it faltered. "But...I want you to be prepared if things go south. With me, I mean. It's only been getting worse," he said gravely.

"Don't say that," I pleaded.

I looked up at him, but he was staring forward, eyes growing vacant and unfocused. He swayed and slumped against a building beside us, with me at his side, struggling to prop up half his weight.

Then he spoke in a nearly inaudible whisper. "How would you know if I wasn't really me?"

I expelled all the air from my lungs in one breath. "What are you talking—"

The muted words spilled from his lips with a strange urgency. "If I still looked like me and sounded like me, could you really tell?"

There was silence. "You're kind of freaking me out."

His eyelids slid shut, and his breaths came in sharp gasps. "Do you ever see something out of the corner of your eye, but when you look directly at it, it's gone? But you know something was there. Something real."

A shudder tore through me. I stared at him. "Kyle..." I trailed off, taking hold of his hand. "You're the one who's always supposed to have a level head. If you're losing it...I don't think I can handle everything alone." My throat was tight, and I had to blink away forming tears."Everyone needs you. We might not survive the winter without you." 

I ran my fingers gently over the scar Doc had left on his palm. Etched into flesh, a permanent reminder that no one could be trusted. 

My last memory of Doc—withered and helpless in a hospital bed, dying of cancer—flashed in my mind. In the end, it seemed that karma had, at least, come for him and his son. I smiled faintly at the thought.

After a minute, Kyle's pupils constricted and he blinked rapidly. His eyes slowly trained on me, then my grip on his hand. His brows drew together with confusion.

He pulled away and turned his back to me. "I'm sorry...I...don't know what came over me." He raked his fingers through his dark hair with a shaky exhale.

I didn't manage to respond—I could only stare at him with fear and uncertainty.

Suddenly, the uneasy silence was stolen by the rhythmic, mechanical whir of a helicopter overhead.

__________

qotd: What do you think of the title (The Unknown)? It was actually supposed to be temporary until I thought of something better (but never did lol). Any thoughts on changing it? 

I still think it could be better, but I also have no other ideas & like the current cover a lot.