Page 6

I did not know how many days I had been here. Several was my best guess. The walls were soundproofed so that the room remained permanently silent, and the chamber was so deep underground that nothing from the surface would have reached me anyway. I had never known a silence so complete. I had never known an isolation so profound.

In the first day or so, I’d sung songs. Talked aloud. Pretended that I could speak to those I loved: to John, to Kimmy, to Holly, to anyone. The sound of my own voice was a tether to sanity, to humanity. But soon enough, my throat grew dry and sore, and the water from the tap tasted stale and metallic on my tongue. I stopped singing.

I played endless games in my head. I exercised. I slept whenever I could, though the lights made it difficult, since they were never extinguished. They didn’t flicker, didn’t even make a strange hum that could’ve provided some welcome white noise. No, everything in this room was engineered to be this way. To torment. To provide nothing of comfort to its inhabitant.

I touched my cheek, feeling dirty tracks of tears. I had cried. Screamed. Laughed hysterically, then sobbed again, terrified by the swiftness with which the jaws of my own madness had clamped down on me. I was trapped. Utterly trapped. But still, I had not broken. I hadn’t given him the answer he wanted to hear.

My strength was waning. I was numb and hollowed out, my psyche as smooth and featureless as the white room around me. A husk.

A voice came over the intercom, filtering through a white speaker that lay flush against the ceiling. It was the only possible source of sound other than myself, and it only happened once in a while, at random intervals to stop me from tracking time.

“Have you decided yet, Ms. Ainsley?” His voice was crisp. Sharp. Emotionless.

I usually said nothing. I wouldn’t dignify him with a response.

This time, however, I rasped, “Yes.”

There was a brief pause. Then, “Very well. Major Hamilton will come to escort you to your quarters. Perhaps a house above ground, yes? A reward for your cooperation.”

I felt empty, like a tin can tossed aside in the wind, pulverized by a million cars into a faceless, misshapen flatness. As I waited for the Major to free me from my prison, the events that led me here played again in my mind, taunting me with the futility of my resistance and the loneliness that had permeated every part of me.

Two weeks earlier

The day that I’d been stolen away from John, I’d watched the wild landscape of the Wasteland go by in fast-motion through the window of an armoured military truck, wondering if I’d ever see anyone I loved again. The vehicle was unlike any I’d seen before, even living in the Cave—it was more like a small tank than a truck, and it bounded through the thick brush with an ease only achievable by brute force. A large touchscreen command centre spanned the dashboard in front of the Major, who was driving, and it seemed to display a map with a digital illustration of the vehicle, along with a bunch of various metrics I didn’t understand. The screen lit up his deep skin and hazel eyes, and his expression was stoic and remarkably relaxed, given the circumstances.

The ride through the trees was bumpy, chaotic, and uncomfortable. I was still dressed in only my swimsuit and John’s t-shirt, with no shoes. My feet were torn and bloody from running in the woods. My throat was bruised and sore from where the Sergeant had strangled me.

The Major had barely said a word since he forced me into the vehicle, strapped me into my seat, and drove away. He let me have my little meltdown after that, in total silence. My thoughts were chaotic and fragmented. I tried the door handle, but it was locked, and the locking mechanism on my side was disabled. Still, I tried throwing my shoulder against the door.

“Waste of time,” the Major said nonchalantly. “All the doors are reinforced; the glass is bulletproof. There’s no point trying to get out.”

The feeling of being trapped closed like a cage around my chest. I crumpled at his words, but my mind still raced with thoughts of escape and of my husband.

Was John really… I couldn’t even finish the thought. The pain of it would engulf me if I allowed it, and I had to keep my wits about me. I didn’t know for certain that they’d hurt John. He was more than capable of defending himself, and it was possible, with my diversion, that he’d escaped them.

But if he did, he’ll come after you, and get himself killed anyway.

I did my best to pretend that that wasn’t true, that his attempts to rescue me wouldn’t be futile. I wanted more than anything for him to save me from whatever fate awaited me at the Delta. I wanted to be back in our bed at Summerhurst, waking up from this nightmare with his warm body curled around mine.

Fear twisted in my gut at the thought of what these people might want with me. It couldn’t be anything good. They wouldn’t have sent soldiers to remove me by force if their intentions were benign.

After my tears subsided, a horrible, leaden numbness set in. A bottomless emptiness opened up inside me, and I could recognize it for what it was: a coping mechanism. If I felt nothing, I could survive the agonizing rupture in my world. I’d felt it before, when I lost the Cave and my family and everyone I’d known.

Back then, the numbness eventually made me fall apart all over again. Now, I’d utilize it to my advantage. If the worst had already happened—and losing John was undeniably the worst—then whatever happened next would be bearable, if nothing else. Nothing could touch someone who’d already lost everything.

I couldn’t go back to living the life I’d had at the Cave. If there was even the slightest chance that John might be alive, I had to do whatever I could to escape.

The best thing I could do for now was gather information.

“Who are you?” I asked the Major, keeping my voice even. I didn’t want him to see my desperation.

There was a pause, and I wondered briefly if he’d refuse to answer me anything.

But he eventually said, “Major Andrew Hamilton. I’m part of the Delta special forces. But for now, I’ve been assigned as your personal security.”

That was an answer I hadn’t expected.

“My personal security? Why would I need that?”