Blair turned to Grant and raised her eyebrows.
“Should I go?” she asked.
Grant stammered. Why was she asking him? Huck droned on in the background. The Copia residents cheered and clapped for something they had seen on the screen. “Sure, I mean, if it’s important to you?” he said. “I should probably get into the Center anyway...hear what Huck has to say...”
“Oh,” she said. “Ummm...maybe...” Blair looked conflicted, but Grant felt anxious to get into the large gymnasium and hear about his future home. “Maybe just stay here with Frank until I get back?” she asked.
“I guess—”
But she was already skipping down the hallway when she answered Mick back. “I’ll go to Pod 6. I’ll take my dad’s direct elevator. Turn back on the power and I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“Copy that.”
Grant took a short walk down the hall and dragged Frank with him. He stood next to the corner, close enough to hear the video drone on.
“We have appreciated your contributions to our world...”
Grant smirked. He had contributed nothing to this world. The people watching that video had given money and years of their lives to a cause that ended the world. The only thing Grant had done was get lucky enough to survive. Somehow he felt like he kept cheating the system.
The video was wrapping up. “For us, those who are going to live the next five hundred or more years on the Islands, we will look to you – the Copia – as a tale worth telling. You are worth more than you know.”
Grant felt Frank tug at the leash toward the Center, but Grant pulled him back. Undeterred, Frank barked once and then again.
“Shut up, Frank,” Grant mumbled toward the dog, giving him a gentle tap on the head.
Down the hall, Grant saw Nate look his way. He stared at Grant and then lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth, still keeping Grant in his line of sight. Behind him, the other guards moved quickly to shut the doors to the Center, and his heart began to pound. Jorge and one of the other guards brought big boxes out from a room down the hallway. They were metal and hooked to them were long floppy plastic tubes. Working fast, the men tucked the tubes under the door to the Center and then flipped a switch.
The boxes hummed and churned.
Grant pulled Frank tighter and took a step toward the men.
Nate lifted his gun in Grant’s direction.
From behind him, Jorge shouted, “All six boxes in place. The ones behind the screen are going, the ones from the theater room are operational.”
“Can anyone see what’s happening?” someone shouted.
Inside the secluded room, Grant could start to piece together the sounds of panic. Voices rose and fell in worry and alarm; a woman’s scream, a man’s yell, the sound of traveling feet across the gym floor.
“What’s happening?” Grant called to Dylan, who had taken his place several feet back from the closed metal doors of the Center, his weapon raised.
Now he could hear coughing. A thin film of vapor seeped out beneath the doors and disappeared. Someone hit the doors with full force and they bulged, but didn’t open.
“Prepare for breach!” Dylan shouted.
Huck’s video played on. His voice seeped underneath the new sounds of horror. “You must understand your role. And understand that I realize you will not have seen this sea change coming. But it is imperative to the success of my Islands. Only a true tempest will refine us. I bid you a fond farewell. Please know, in your final moments here, that your memories will not be forsaken.” The video turned to static as some women shrieked in shrill trills. Frank growled and then barked, yanking on the leash and crying out wildly—his cries mingling in with the cries of the people.
Nate stalked forward, his gun on Grant. And Grant backed up.
“What’s happening?” Grant asked in a whisper. He was out in the hallway, taking wide steps behind him without looking where he was going. A cold sweat dripped down his neck. “What’s happening?” he asked again, louder.
Nate shook his head. “Grant...I’m sorry...”
“No,” Grant breathed.
Copia.
It didn’t exist. It had never existed. It was a lie fed to people unworthy enough to travel to the next world. He wanted to let go of Frank’s leash and run, but he couldn’t. Still his feet carried him backward as Nate followed him.
“All those people—”
“Just our orders, Grant,” Nate said. “We liked you, kid. You have to believe me.”
Grant raised a hand to his neck and tugged on Salem’s crucifix. He held on to it and started to pray.
“Help me, help me, help me,” Grant said. “Mother Mary and Lord Jesus, dear God, no, no—”
A rise and fall of screams echoed down the hall, but Nate didn’t flinch.
“Oh my Jesus,” Grant whispered. He closed his eyes. “Forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in most need of the mercy.”
Blair’s screams through the radio seemed to blend in, and Grant almost didn’t notice that she was back on. When Nate finally realized that it was Blair and not the Copia residents, he grabbed the radio and pressed it to his ear with one hand while keeping his gun on Grant.
“Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?”
Grant kept moving backward.
Nate looked confused and tentative.
“Sorry, Blair....can’t really discuss now...in the middle...” Mick answered her in spurts. There was now gunfire near the movie theater exit. People had managed to attempt an escape. Grant took another step back and realized that he had trapped himself up against the elevator doors at the end of the hall. He could feel that his cheeks were wet, even though he hadn’t been aware that he was crying.
“Can you confirm we are all accounted for?” Blair screamed. He could hear her muffled voice. “Confirm! Confirm!”
“I can confirm. All Copia. All guards. Grant. And your damn dog. Get up here, Blair.” Mick sounded angry and stern, panicked. The gas still poured into the Center, the guards looked at their watches. The deaths had only just begun. “Five minutes.”
“Then we have intruders. I repeat. I repeat. We have intruders. Private Ryley’s been shot and we are not alone down here!” Blair screamed. “I’m coming back up. I’m coming back up!”
In his own flustered panic, Grant hit the elevator button with his elbow. Nate’s attention was drawn away for a second down the hall, and Grant eyed the gun. He imagined himself attempting to pry the gun free. It was an act of pure bravado that he thought he might be physically capable of; if he could distract Nate for just a second, he could launch himself. Maybe buy some time.
But it was futile. Nate’s orders were to kill him. If he failed, there was an entire hallway of armed men ready to pick up where he left off.
Grant knew that the direct elevator was at the end of the hallway. He willed Blair to run faster. Maybe she would intercede for him. Maybe she didn’t know about the orders to kill him. He realized that Blair might be his only hope.
Nate tucked the walkie back into his uniform pocket and leveled the gun again. Grant closed his eyes. Then from down the hall, Grant could hear Blair running. No one else was wearing heels. He snapped his eyes opened and watched her approach. Her face was white and ashen, and her shirt untucked. Grant noticed that the tips of the pumps were covered in blood.
Twenty feet away. Fifteen feet away.
“Blair!” Grant called to her, but his voice caught.
“Frank!” she shouted. “I need Frank!”
Nate looked down at the ground and then up at Grant. “It’s time.” He leaned in and grabbed Grant’s shirt collar and began to pull him away from the elevator doors. Grant heard a tiny pop and felt Salem’s necklace snap loose—the chain had broken in the scuffle. With all his energy, Grant tried to duck out of Nate’s grip. The crucifix fell to the floor.