“Are you sure he’s coming back?”
Seven nodded, and they waited again.
If Karl didn’t come back, Fox wasn’t sure what they would do. Karl had to come back, unless he suspected there was something not right with Seven’s story. It was true that agents were really terrible at lying. The plan was to make what Seven said somewhat ambiguous, so that Seven could deliver the story without it being entirely false. To a practiced ear, it still might sound suspicious.
Not that Fox really knew, because he hadn’t gone with Seven.
Seven thought that Karl believed him when he’d said Fox had wanted to show him something and Karl should come right away. They were counting on Karl’s greed, hoping he wouldn’t bring the Cat or the Reaper with him when he returned.
“Where is he then?” he asked Seven. “Could you go and look again?”
“I could, but people will notice if I keep sticking my head out and peering around. We don’t want to give away the fact we’re waiting for him. He said he would come soon.”
Fox thought this might be a stupid plan after all, and considered calling it off. He squirmed, shoulders pressed against the wall of Seven’s sitting room.
The thing was, Karl had the last memory clue inside his head, and without it, the whole plan to rescue King would go down the drain. He had to trust that Joanne and the others would find a way to free their bodies. But after that, if they didn’t have the last memory, what use would it be? Karl might not give it to them, even if there was no other choice. Fox had to go in and extract it.
Seven was surprisingly compliant with the plan, in spite of the fact that it would out him as a double agent. Fox was pretty certain that, with their double-layered mind, the government wouldn’t be able to catch them.
“They could still kill us,” Seven pointed out.
“What purpose would that serve? Then we’d all be dead, Joanne and the others would still be out there, and they’d get absolutely no information from us.”
“True,” conceded Seven. “They’ll probably try and starve us out. It’s slower, and we’re more likely to give in.”
“Starve us out?” Fox didn’t like the sound of that.
“Stop feeding our bodies. Eventually we’d start to feel the effects of starvation. We’d get weaker and unable to function properly. We would feel it, and they would probably hope we’d give in and surrender before dying.” Seven nodded, pleased with his assessment of the situation.
“Starvation would take weeks,” Fox said, thinking of what he knew of the human body’s ability to suffer extreme conditions. “Joanne would have thought of something by then.”
Thoughts flicker across Seven’s face as he thought the situation through and came to his own conclusion. He nodded. “No gain without risk. That’s what King thought as well, right?”
Fox gave him a half-smile. “Yes. But we don’t have to do this. I could try and think of another way, one with less risk, not as many consequences of failure.”
“No.” Seven shook his head. “We’ll do it. If we don’t try something, nothing will happen. We can’t rely on Joanne to fix this for us. We have to do our part, too.”
“God knows she doesn’t consider the peril of a situation before diving in.” Fox laughed. “Okay. We’re both agreed. This is what’s going to happen.”
It had all seemed so easy to say that they were fine with the risks and the consequences beforehand. Now, when they thought their plan might fail before they’d even started it, Fox wasn’t so sure. He paced back and forth, while Seven lounged against the nearest wall, apparently unconcerned.
“It’s fine, Fox. He’s going to come, and he doesn’t suspect anything.”
He flung himself against the wall next to Seven. “Distract me.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
Poor Seven had no idea how high-strung Fox really was in a tense situation. Fox fidgeted with the buckle on his wrist, opening and closing it. It made a clinking sound every time he did, and it was clearly driving Seven up the wall. Well, maybe he’d see what it was like to be driven to distraction.
Flip, pull, clink, slide. Maybe Seven would think of something to do while they waited. Flip, pull, clink, slide. He should have checked when Fox had asked him to, then maybe he wouldn’t be so nervous now. Flip, pull, clink, slide. Besides, the repetitive motion wasn’t that annoying…
Without warning, Seven grabbed his shoulders, pushed him against the wall, and crashed their mouths together. He quickly delved into Fox’s mouth and bit his lip in retaliation. Fox’s lip stung, and Seven lapped at the spot before nipping it again.
That was as good a distraction as any.
Fox grabbed Seven’s belt and dragged him closer, running his hands up Seven’s sides and back, pressing hungrily at Seven’s mouth. He wholeheartedly immersed himself in kissing Seven breathless. Seven made a choked-off groaning noise as Fox thumbed at a nipple through the stretchy, thin material of his shirt.
Fox had forgotten that Seven didn’t have much experience with this, but the reminder came with the agent’s fingers clutching his shoulders and his rough, quick panting breaths. Fox slowed down, gentling his hands and licking at his pulsing carotid artery. Seven whined in the back of his throat.
“Shhh, you’re okay,” he whispered, nipping at Seven’s ear.
He stroked Seven’s back, and a shiver ran through the tight muscles beneath his hand. Seven arched up and their hips ground together, the evidence of the agent’s arousal hard against his thigh. Had Seven ever been touched this way before? It didn’t seem likely, not when he shied away from other people’s hands.
“All right?” he asked, stilling Seven’s hips by bracing them with his hands.
Seven nodded, apparently at a loss for words.
“We don’t have to do anything, not if you don’t want to,” Fox said, because he had to say that, even though Seven was the one who started it.
“I want,” Seven whispered in a tight voice.
“Okay,” Fox said soothingly, and rubbed a thumb over the space between Seven’s shirt and the waistband of his trousers. “Okay. Just trust me.”
He repositioned Seven facing forward with his forearms braced against the wall and moulded his own body behind, against Seven’s back. He mouthed at the soft skin behind Seven’s ear and slid his hands over the agent’s quivering belly. Slowly, in case Seven changed his mind, he unbuckled the belt under his fingers. Seven gasped and pushed back against Fox’s weight.
Seven panted and leaned his neck to the side, and Fox took the hint and pressed biting kisses to the soft expanse of skin next to his mouth.
Delving a hand under the material of Seven’s trousers, he wrapped a firm hand around the stiff length and stroked from root to tip in several long pulls. Seven keened noisily, and suddenly Fox was bearing all of their combined weight as Seven’s legs wobbled and gave out.
“Sorry, sorry, I—” Seven gasped.
“No, it’s fine,” Fox said, and lowered them to the ground. “Can I keep going?”
“Yes…” Seven leaned his head against Fox’s shoulder, and his eyelids fluttered. “Oh, I had no idea that it was anything like…like this…”
It wasn’t long before Seven was thrashing in his arms and clutching at whatever part of Fox he could reach, hanging on desperately. Fox sped his strokes and Seven tensed and held on tightly, sobbing his release and shuddering in Fox’s arms.
“Shhh…” Fox whispered.
It was the Cerebrum, so there was no mess to clean up afterward—at least not here. There might very well be one IRL. Fox zipped Seven into his trousers while he recovered. Seven heaved in deep breaths, eyes closed.
“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” Seven said, voice hoarse. “Karl could get here at any time.”
Fox had completely forgotten about his anxiety over Karl, which he supposed was the main point of the exercise. “Where is he? He should have come already, a long time ago.”
“I’ll go look, if it would make you less edgy,” Seven said, sounding resigned.
“No need. I’ve seen everything I need to,” Karl’s voice echoed from all around them.
Fox had never rolled to his feet more quickly than in that heart-stopping moment, eyes wildly scanning the room for signs of Karl’s form. They hadn’t noticed while they were otherwise occupied, but the light in the room had dimmed noticeably. One corner had darkness gathering, like spreading mold, the edges grasping at the walls.
“How did you get in?” Seven asked, still sitting on the floor with his legs splayed obscenely.
“It was easy. You weren’t exactly making much of an effort to keep up your Mindwall. I must admit, I hadn’t considered you agents had enough willpower left to turn your minds to betrayal.”
“The human mind is our strongest tool of resistance, and it’s all I was left with. A mistake,” Seven replied, getting to his feet and smiling with mock pleasantry. “So what now, Karl? You’re the Brain, the great mind behind the rebel cause, turned traitor. What will you do?”
“Obviously, I’m going to turn you in and reap the greater benefit this knowledge brings me,” Karl replied, the darkness in the corner drawing its hazy edges back in.
“Good luck with that,” Seven said, with a saccharine smile. “You’re exactly where I want you to be. Stay for tea? You might as well, because you won’t get out.”
“What makes you think you can keep me here? I’m leaving, and when I return, I’ll be bringing the Cat and the Reaper with me.”
The darkness melted through the wall, and for a moment, Fox thought that, in spite of all their efforts, Karl had escaped. However, a moment later, the darkness began to show through in spreading patches in the opposite corner, and Karl reappeared. Seven watched, smile never faltering, and Fox felt a chill at how still and cold his facial expressions were.
It was a face without mercy.
“You can’t leave,” Seven said. “Why do you think they let King stay in my head? They knew that no matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to get out.”
A door appeared, and Karl made a sound of triumph, his dark form flowing over the frame and spilling into the cracks and delving into the keyhole. Seven made his way to the door at a leisurely pace and opened it. Fox followed, more apprehensively, and peered through the doorway.
Across the room, he could see his own back, and when he turned to look over his shoulder, there was a door behind him on the opposite wall. Karl was flowing across the walls, an oily black shadow clinging to the surfaces of Seven’s mind. Seven laughed, and the sound of it was like shards of ice shattering, a sound that sent pinpricks up Fox’s spine.
“Seven,” he whispered. “You’re alright?”
“Yes, Fox, it’ll be fine,” Seven replied, reaching backward to grasp Fox’s fingers, and the warmth of his hand through the leather glove was reassuring. “Very soon, he’ll panic and do something stupid.”
The darkness in the corner coalesced into a cloud of black smoke, like the kind Fox had seen from junkyard burn piles, dark and noxious. It swirled furiously before gathering around Fox’s head, as if attempting an attack.
“Like that,” Fox heard Seven say, but all of his concentration was on Karl.
Karl, like Fox, had a problem with his ability to hurt people in the Cerebrum. While his attack was slightly disorienting, it did nothing to otherwise impede Fox. Somewhere in the dark maelstrom was the centre of Karl’s mind, and if Fox could find it, then they would be able to get inside his head.
Suddenly, the door behind them opened, and in walked King.
“Is it safe to come out yet?” he asked, looking around.
Karl’s seething mass froze in surprise, and in that instant, Fox picked out the centre of the storm and lunged. For a moment, he thought he had miscalculated as his body cut through the mist without resistance. Then, his forehead slammed into an immovable force, and he was hurtled straight into the middle of Karl’s domain.
He was still surrounded by mist, this time more of a silvery-grey, thicker and more benign. It floated in wisps around him, cool and slightly slick. Fox shivered.
“There won’t be anything here for you to find,” Karl said from all around him. “What makes you think I’ll make it easy to read my mind?”
“Oh, nothing,” Fox said, looking around. “I just have a tendency to get into places I’m not supposed to be and finding things no one wanted me to ever find.”
“Not this time,” Karl snarled.
Fox ignored him and wandered farther into the mist.
“Where are you going? You won’t get anywhere,” Karl called, but his voice was fading.
“Oh, nowhere,” Fox said and kept walking.
He heard a woman laughing somewhere up ahead, her voice high-pitched and echoing. For a moment, he wondered about it and nearly went towards it. But he wasn’t after the mysteries of Karl’s past; he was here for one memory. Just one.
“You know, Karl, I am named for a traitor,” he said into the fog as he headed in the opposite direction of the laughing woman.
“I’m not a traitor.”
Footsteps rang out behind him, and a bell began pealing. A slight breeze came through and shifted the mist. Fox followed the movement of air, ignoring the skittering noise that started around his feet. There was nothing there. Karl was trying to distract him.
“Humans don’t have a great history for treating traitors humanely,” Fox said, still following the touch of cold air.
He heard a whooshing noise, as if some great bird of prey had swooped down at his head, and the breeze grew stronger. Fox kept following it, and came upon what looked like the beginnings of a forest. It was made up of dark, spindly trees without leaves, and they rattled as the wind rose. Fox picked his way through the space between narrow black trunks.
“I wonder, Karl, what should we do to you? Should we cut you open and pull your guts out?” Fox asked, shielding his face from the wind, pushing forward through the trees.
A sudden screaming sounded, and it reminded Fox of being home in Devon, when the kettle had just started whistling, and he was waiting for his tea and eating Aunt Helen’s biscuits. Cobwebs, strung between the branches of the trees in front of him, clung to his sleeves as he brushed them away.
He kept moving forward, and the wind grew stronger and stronger, tearing at his jacket and whipping his hair in his eyes. Shielding his eyes with his arm, he came upon a howling whirlwind in the middle of a glade, one with light in the middle.
“And to think, I trusted you.”
The wind died for a moment, but the whirlwind kept spinning in front of him. Fox smiled and took a step forward, into the middle of the storm.
He felt a terrible tugging sensation on all of his limbs, trying to wrench him apart. He closed his eyes. “You can try to draw and quarter me, but I am not the traitor.”
Fox fell, and the whirlwind raged around him. He landed in the middle of a memory, and there was Karl—or who he assumed to be Karl—standing next to two old men with greying hair. One had a large mole next to his nose and large, bushy eyebrows. The other was thin to the point that Fox could see hollows in his cheeks, and the skin around his throat was loose and hanging.
Fox walked up to the memory-Karl and looked down at him. He was very short, and from where Fox was standing, he could see the bald spot Karl was attempting to hide with a comb-over. He had a moustache and was squinting through a pair of glasses with small frames.
“You can get us the King,” the thin one stated, his voice wheezy. “If you succeed in this, we will reward you. Not just the patent, but anything else you could possibly want or need.”
“But if you fail,” said the other, eyebrows waggling, “you will suffer as no one has suffered before!”
“No need to be so overdramatic, Reaper,” said the thin man.
“My apologies, Cat.” The Reaper turned back to Karl. “Nevertheless, the consequences of your failure will be dire.”
“Do not sign your contract unless you can guarantee that you will succeed,” the Cat said, handing Karl a pen.
“I’ll succeed,” Karl said, and took the pen, scratching his name on the paper presented to him.
The room burst into light, and Fox stood and stared at the memory swirling in from of him. There it was, the memory that they needed. The last one. Fox stepped forward.
“You can’t have it, they’ll kill me!” Karl screamed.
The whirlwind had stopped, and the fog behind him was moving strangely. Fox turned his back on it and took another step toward the memory. “You have brought this upon yourself,” he said, and leaned forward, eyes shut.
His forehead contacted the memory, and it was soft and warm, like sunlight on an early summer morning, when the day hadn’t become so hot and the coolness of the morning was starting to fade. It sank into his skin, and when Fox opened his eyes again, the memory was gone, absorbed.
“I won’t let you out,” Karl cried, voice rising in volume and pitch.
“I can always get out,” Fox said with a smile.
And he could. A fox always knew where to find the holes that no one looked for, could squirm their way in and out of the secret places of the world and no one ever caught them. Karl was looking for him, and in doing so, he would show Fox the way out. Fox shimmered and melted down, a grey pelt sprouting and hiding him in the mist and a large pair of pointed ears twitching towards the different sounds all around him. Foxes were masters of passing unnoticed.
Karl had filled his entire domain with mist and fog, flickering shadows and phantom noise. Fox skittered through the maze of broken-umbrella trees, waiting for Karl to come looking for him. The laughing woman was back, and this time, Fox followed her voice.
Karl was younger in this memory. His comb-over was still there, but this time it was a statement of fashion rather than an attempt to hide his hair loss. He wasn’t wearing glasses either. Fox couldn’t see the woman’s face. It remained hidden, shrouded in a grey blur, as if she were a witness on a cop show that had requested anonymity.
“This has been the best night of my life,” she said, raising a hand to where her mouth should be. “Don’t tell me you have to leave in the morning.”
Fox went past her, and suddenly he was on a skytrain platform. The signs around him were written in German, and the only word Fox could pick out was the one meaning “warning.”
Fox hopped onto the train tracks, because it wasn’t a real train station. As he made his way to the other side, he realized he recognized this station after all. It was the one in Dresden. Fox had been coming into Germany across the border from the Czech Republic by the vast skyrail network crisscrossing most of Europe. But this was not his memory.
A train passed behind him, and he hopped onto the opposite platform just as a pair of red high heels appeared next to him. He looked up. It was the same woman, and the wind was catching at the hem of her black, lace-edged skirt. Another set of feet, this time in sensible brown oxfords.
Karl was staring at the woman, but she was reading a book—Advanced Theories in Quantum Mechanics—and didn’t notice him.
Fox passed between them and kept going. It was a memory further in the past than the previous one, so he was probably going in the right direction. As he went, he passed through what looked like an art gallery with big skylights, a library at night all lit up with lamps, the countryside in springtime, and finally a hospital waiting room where a now teenage Karl sat motionless with an open magazine on his lap. He wasn’t reading it.
There was an operating room nearby. It probably hadn’t been directly there, but the memory had recreated the layout of the hospital so that Karl was closer to it. Fox went towards it, and as he did, a doctor came through the doors, and by his facial expression, he obviously hadn’t come to impart good news. Fox kept going even as the deep voice behind him began apologizing to memory-Karl.
It was an operating theatre, and above him, rows of blank faces looked down, emotionlessly witnessing the scene in front. Two bodies, abandoned and covered in blood. Red on white, a stark contrast. Pieces of cloth hid their faces, leaving their grievous injuries exposed. Fox was human again, and reaching for the cloth on the nearest victim’s face.
“No! Stay away from them!”
Fox was suddenly hurled away, catapulted from Karl’s mind as if he were on an elastic band. However, it was too late to stop Fox’s fingers from grasping the cloth and tearing it away with him. There, for the briefest instant, Karl’s face had looked back at him.
* * * *
Seven stared at the black curls of smoke writhing in the middle of his domain and waited impatiently for Fox to emerge. He couldn’t help at this point, and as much as he knew Fox could handle himself in tight situations, he didn’t like not knowing what was going on.
At least the rest of the government didn’t realize something was wrong yet. Fox had assured him that Karl was greedy and would want all the credit, so he wouldn’t have alerted anyone if he thought he could handle it. The domain was safely inside Seven’s, so no one had noticed an unauthorized domain transfer taking place.
Seven sat on the black leather couch and heaved a sigh. He wasn’t one of the minds behind Cerebrum domain theories, but he realized that this situation was unusual. One Private domain couldn’t fit inside another Private domain. He’d thought about it a lot, and while it was true that the Government domain was private in some areas, it was being maintained by more than one person. An entire rotation of MindWallers was constantly in charge of its upkeep. But how this could occur was beyond him. Was it because he could split his mind?
King poked his head from the kitchen. “There’s a tap in here.”
“Yes,” Seven replied with a half-shrug. “I like keeping my house looking like it could function as a normal house, even though it can’t.”
“It has running water now. After the reaction Fox had, I thought I should inform you.”
Seven jumped up and ran into the kitchen. King leaned against the chrome countertop and watched as Seven turned on the tap. Clear water ran out with steady pressure, and Seven blinked in surprise.
“Does it work the same way that Fox’s does?” Seven asked, sticking a finger underneath.
“I didn’t drink it.”
Seven got a glass tumbler from the nearby cupboard and poured himself a glass. The water was cold to the touch, and Seven raised it to his lips and took a cautious sip. Most of his memories were rather unpleasant or just plain boring. Nothing good happened to him.
A warm press to the side of his neck and a hint of teeth. Strong hands, warm, running up his sides and down his belly. He couldn’t control his trembling or the sounds coming from his throat.
“Alright?” asked a voice, soft in his ear, and hands steadying his hips.
Couldn’t talk, mouth not working properly. Mind on overload, desire a warm pulse throughout his entire body. Drowning and not surfacing. Yes, yes, yes please. Nodding, chin jerking like his hips, sharp, uncontrolled.
Seven emerged from the memory aware that he was breathing hard and a flush of heat had overtaken what felt like his entire head. He looked at the glass and bit his lip hard. It was a good thing King hadn’t taken a drink. Was it all like this?
Another drink, longer this time.
Waking up with a fuzzy mind. There was someone curled against him, solid and warm. It was comfortable, secure. Seven shifted closer, clinging to the form in front of him.
“Seven?”
Not asleep. Fox wouldn’t want him this close. Expectation of rejection, pre-emptive retreat.
“Sorry.”
A hand twined around his, keeping him in place. “It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind this.”
“I…this is…do you…” He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Why would anyone want someone like him to be close to them? He wasn’t normal. He didn’t know how to act like a proper person, especially in this situation. He moved further, feeling like an intruder.
“You can also move, if that would be better.” Or so he was saying, but Fox’s fingers tightened. If Fox wanted him to stay, he wasn’t going to move. Fox would figure it out, soon enough, that Seven wasn’t a good emotional investment. Until then, Seven would take what he could get.
“Would you?”
The body in his arms froze and started to retreat. No, no, no, that wasn’t what he wanted. Not at all.
“No, I meant around.” Please stay. He just wanted Fox closer. Closer than this, as close as possible, closer than possible. He was inside Seven’s mind. It wasn’t close enough.
The body in his arms writhed for a moment before flipping over. Fox’s eyes this close were mesmerizing in their intensity. He looked at Seven like he was a miracle, and Seven didn’t have the strength of character to admit he wasn’t.
“Where are your goggles?”
Panic. He needed those. No one was supposed to know he was different. Frantic hands trying to recover his only camouflage. “I don’t…”
A slight bump as Fox nudged their foreheads together, connection and warmth. A huff of breath on his face. Limbs entwined to ensure Seven didn’t escape. Seven tried to contain his happiness and hid a smile in Fox’s shoulder.
Seven blinked in surprise at the glass in front of him. Were all the memories in there about Fox? That was embarrassing. He’d have to ensure that Fox never found out about it, or Seven would probably spontaneously combust. His face felt close to the incineration point as it was.
When Seven looked up, King had already gone back to the sitting room, most likely to watch the smoking mass that made up Karl’s domain. Seven swirled the water in the glass and considered the temptation of the memories in his hand. He could stand here for hours and just relive moments he’d spent with Fox.
Yet he stood looking at the glass for far too long, and eventually forced himself to tip the rest of the water into the sink. He set the tumbler on the counter with a clink that echoed in the empty kitchen. If he lived with these memories, he’d never make new ones.
He joined King in the sitting room.
“If this works, then what?” King asked.
“If this works, then we all escape from the Government domain and hope like hell that Joanne and the others have found our bodies and can get them out before they kill us.”
“That’s not much of a plan.”
“I know,” Seven said with a grim half-smile. “But it’s what we’ve got. Sorry, it’s the best we could do. We’ve got to try, though, because if we don’t try something, we’ll definitely fail.”
“I see.”
“If we can get you back your memories, then maybe you can help. Past-King had some sort of plan. You knew that Karl was up to something.”
“Looking at what’s been going on, I’m beginning to think we’ve all been flying by the seat of our pants. It’s as I said—not much of a plan.”
Before Seven could reply, the smoke convulsed suddenly and a shape hurtled out of the middle. Fox somersaulted in midair before kicking off from the ceiling, landing unharmed on the floor in front of them.
“Time to go!” he yelled. “Apart from taking the memory for King, I’ve also managed to really piss off Karl.”
Seven leapt to his feet and pulled King with him. “I’d have thought that breaking into his head and stealing the memory that he betrayed you for would make him angry anyway.”
“I’ve got a talent for taking things to the extreme.”
“Right.” Seven rapidly took stock of the situation. “In order to get Karl out of my domain, I have to close it. Then I’ll reopen it so you two can catch a lift in my head. We’ll have to be quick and hope no one notices.”
“Can’t you just bring Karl with us?” King asked.
“Fox just kicked over a hornet’s nest, and now you’re asking if I want that in my head? I think I’ll pass, thanks. Right, here we go!”
They all popped out of Seven’s domain, and Seven was about to put his domain back in place when he realized that the Cat and the Reaper were standing in front of them. The two had been shocked motionless at their sudden appearance, but Seven didn’t trust that would last very long.
“Just run,” Fox said and took off.
So much for that idea. Seven and King followed close on his heels as they began jumping down links inside the Government domain, searching for a way out. Government domain links appeared as long corridors, wide enough for a vehicle to fit through, and they all looked the same. But Seven knew the way out.
“That way!” he said, rolling his eyes behind his goggles. “Why are you two in the lead when I’m the one who knows the way?”
There was no time to respond as they ran up against a wall of data.
“MindWall!” Fox cried. “It’s a complicated one.”
“What were you expecting? This is the Government domain and it’s gone into lockdown to try and contain us. Can you get us out?”
“I can try,” Fox said, kneeling and getting to work.
Seven waited, watching the hallway behind them for pursuers. He didn’t have to wait long for a group of agents to appear around the corner. He unholstered his pistols and waited as they approached. He didn’t want to fight any of them, because up until now, they had been his only friends in the world. But this was about freedom.
“Seven,” said Eighty-Eight as they drew near. “What are you doing?”
His face was blank, and he drew his own weapon. Eighty-Eight’s fists clenched around his pistols, and Seven wanted to tell him that it was okay. He understood that Eighty-Eight would have to try and stop him.
“You’re aiding and abetting,” added Twelve from behind him.
“You’re going to get terminated.”
Strange that Eighty-Eight would say that, but not say that he and Twelve would be the ones to do it. Maybe they, too, felt this reluctance to harm the other. Seven hoped so—he found he rather liked them, here at the end.
“I won’t,” Seven said with a smile. “Because I’m going to escape.”
“How can you possibly think that you can escape from here?” Eighty-Eight asked, sighing. “There is no escape, not for us.”
“There is, and if I can get out, then so can you. They know where our bodies are. They can free us. Don’t you want that? To see the world outside for once?”
“What would we do?” Twelve asked, a high note of anxiety entering his voice. “I don’t know what it’s really like out there IRL. We don’t know what to expect or what will happen to us. At least we’re safe here.”
“You can stay if you want, but I won’t live the rest of my life trapped in the Cerebrum!” Seven raised his pistols. “Well? Aren’t you going to try and stop me?”
A tense silence followed, and Seven tightened his grip on the pistols. This was it. He was going to have to fire on his own comrades in order to escape. His chest hurt in a strange way, as if it was being squeezed hard. His heart creaked with the pain of it.
“No,” Eighty-Eight said, lowering his weapon.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Seven demanded, barely daring to breathe.
“No, I’m not going to stop you.” Eighty-Eight turned to Twelve. “Let’s go. They made it through the MindWall before it closed.”
Eighty-Eight gave Seven one last desperate look, then turned, shimmered, and disappeared. Twelve half-turned to follow, but stopped to look back at Seven.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Seven.”
“I have a name, Twelve. So do you. We just don’t know what they are yet. I have to try and find out what happened to us. I’ll find out, for everyone. You can come, too, if you want.”
Twelve hesitated, then shook his head as of he suddenly realized that Eighty-Eight had gone without him. He winked out of the hallway, jumping a link to somewhere else.
Seven asked over his shoulder, “Are we almost out?”
“Almost,” Fox confirmed. “Why did they let us go?”
“They didn’t want to fight me. I’m one of the only people in the world they know. When everyone else in this place treats you as if you don’t exist, you have to rely on the support of those who do. There is no one else. To everyone else, I’m just a number.”
“We’re out,” Fox said, voice subdued. “I hope we can find the others without too much trouble.”
“Too much trouble?” King laughed. “You mean, people who have access to our bodies after we’ve stolen the last memory from them, hunting us down isn’t ‘too much trouble’?”
Fox shrugged, pulling on the edge of the MindWall. “What are you waiting for? Get through!”
Seven closed his eyes and jumped.