IMOGEN
The guard brought me another apple and some crackers.
So much for meal changes.
Bert brought me some lotion. My hands burned after I applied it. I tried to twiddle them. I couldn’t. They hurt too badly.
Bert stood over Finn’s bed.
He’d also brought a vial of liquid for Finn and was administering it, drop by tedious drop, into Finn’s mouth. He’d been working on it for half an hour and was only a little over halfway through.
That same guard stood by the door.
I could take him in five seconds, if not for my hands. Maybe even with my hands. I might try, if it weren’t for Bert and the help he offered to Finn at the moment.
I stared down at my hands, observing the way the skin had dried so completely. I had deep grooves in the skin; the cracks turned into craters over the last twelve hours.
Jack and Beckett should have made it out of there by now. Why hadn’t I heard news? The gala started a full five hours ago.
Once Bert left, I’d finish my lock pick, I’d figure out a way to pack up Finn on my back, and then Finn and I were out of here.
My head jerked up when the door swung open and another guard entered.
The guard went straight for Bert and grabbed his arms. Bert was right in the middle of administering a drop.
“Alright, buddy, that’s a wrap. No more play time. You’re going back to the basement.”
Bert’s eyes widened. “Wait! Please! I’m not finished!”
The other guard helped now, pulling Bert toward the door. Bert pleaded, the liquid in the glass vial sloshing menacingly.
“Wait, please! Just let me say goodbye to him! Let me say goodbye to my son!”
Excuse me?
Son?
A million things clicked together all at once, snippets of the last twenty-four hours: Bert, Finn, the guards, the absent Dr. Cunningham.
Yes. Yes, of course.
His son.
And they were taking Bert away.
That did it for me.
I shoved myself up from the ground and took a step toward the mob of bodies.
My hands might hurt, but my body was created for moments like this.
The entire scene paused, as if in perfect clarity. My brain transformed a split-second into minutes, so I could process everything I’d just seen and heard and learned.
To trust or not trust Bert? Trust.
To trust or not trust the man who claimed to be Dr. Cunningham? Not trust.
To take out the guards? Yes.
Administer the liquid to Finn? Yes.
To get out of here now? Definitely.
My mind never failed me in these moments. I knew exactly what my body would do before the motion even manifested in my body.
I stiff-armed the guard coming at me and hit him right in the nose. He dropped to the floor, just as I expected. My hand screamed in pain.
The other guard, still holding Bert, released the doctor and charged me.
The guard’s feet were out from underneath him before he even realized it had happened.
Bert poured the liquid into Finn’s mouth, faster now, trickle by trickle.
Finn choked, gurgled. But swallowed, I think.
Here’s the thing though: I didn’t expect six more guys.
I hadn’t seen six guys total in this place the whole time we’d been here. I didn’t know they even had that many people on site.
One grabbed Bert, the vial not yet fully empty.
My body put up a good fight for me.
My punches tore the cracks in my hands, turning them into full gashes.
My skin bled.
It wasn’t pretty, but I went down fighting. That’s as good as I can ever say.