Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Twelve

The lunch room is full of round tables surrounded by plastic chairs. Former governors and statesmen pick boredly at the day's food rations: a couple carrots, a single serving of applesauce, a mini bread roll, and a fist-sized slab of meat. No wonder everyone looks so starved! Matthew, Victoria, Gale and I scarf down our food despite its bland, unappetizing taste.
    "Are you sure you want to leave so soon?" Gale asks skeptically, gulping down milk from a cardboard carton. "I mean, we don't have any transportation to New York, the Mothership's useless, and we're in the middle of nowhere!" I stare at the table. I had thought of the transportation issue. That serves as the only problem in our plan. I shrug.
    "We'll have to see if there's a car we can borrow."
    "I'm not driving," Victoria mutters. We all share a deep laugh. It feels nice, sitting here with people that I can trust, chuckling about something that is in no way dark or ironic. The feeling lasts only a few moments. President Burbank catches my eyes for a split second, entering through the dining area's entrance. I duck, trying to hide my face, but it's too late. Matthew notices the nervous movement and he pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. I shake my head almost imperceptibly.
    "Good afternoon, visitors!" The President says grandly, coming to a stop behind me. He casually places a wrinkled hand on my shoulder, as if nothing had happened this morning. "How are we doing today?" I clear my throat, staring at my food.
    "We've decided that we are ready to leave. Your hospitality has been much appreciated." Burbank instantly withdraws the hand on my shoulder.
    "I-I'm afraid I don't quite..." He remains tall, but his eyes betray sorrow. Matthew takes my hand pointedly and glances at Gale and Victoria.
    "What Enna meant to say was that we are leaving tonight. Is there any way you could assist us to New York?"
    "New York?" The President's face twists in anger and he backs away from the table. Men and women dining nearby swivel in their chairs to face their leader. "Have you all gone mad?" Matthew starts to stand and I squeeze his hand, urging him to remain calm. Victoria gets to her feet swiftly and tosses her dark, wavy hair over a shoulder.
    "Mr. Burbank. Excuse our insanity, but our arrival here was completely unplanned. There's something that we were trying to accomplish otherwise." Her intense eyes speak to the President more than Matthew's anger or my calm reason. His face becomes set and stern, and he lowers his voice so only our table can hear him.
    "New York City is being bombed as we speak. It's not safe there."
    "We'll have to take our chances," I mutter, swallowing my shock. Burbank stares at each of us in turn, then shakes his head a little, clearing his throat.
    "At least let me assist you. I will assign one of my most trusted assistants to insure your safe travel."
    "Thank you--" But the President turns away before I can finish, striding out of the cafeteria.

* * *

    According to the small screen in our bedroom, we have thirty minutes before departure. I grab another pile of clothes and begin to fold them more hurriedly, stacking them neatly in my suitcase. Matthew does the same beside me. Brandon had invited us to pack as many clothes and spare items as we needed for our journey. I certainly made good on the offer.
    "So the Master killed Burbank's wife?" Matthew asks quietly, intently trying to fit all of his clothes into a suitcase. I sigh.
    "It would appear so."
    "Why did he want to show you those memories in particular?" I zip up my suitcase and set it against the door. Exhausted, I bounce back on the bed.
    "He wanted me to see that he was forced to agree with the Master's terms. He said he wanted me to trust him."
    "Do you?" I shrug, though I know that Matthew's too busy to notice the gesture. It doesn't take him too long to finish packing himself, then he joins me on the bed.
    "Are the others ready?" I ask, staring through the window at the people who pass through rooms and hallways like busy ants in a colony.
    "I think they're scared," he replies, sighing. "And I can't say I blame them."
    "You don't want to go," I say, lazily turning my head to face him. It's not a question, but an observation. He tries to laugh, but settles for a grimace.
    "At this point it doesn't really matter what I want." He's right. We're not going through this for kicks. I close my eyes briefly, hoping for a moment of peace, but then the door opens and Brandon steps into the room. His face reddens a little when he sees Matthew and I lying together, but I nod him onwards. He recovers swiftly from his awkwardness.
    "Your vehicle is ready on the upper deck, Ms. Price. It's time to move out."

* * *

    Fake Enna

I lounge on the plushy mattress in my regal bedroom, idly listening to the whirring ceiling fan as it repeatedly circles above my head. The television on the wall gleams under the presence of lamplight, and I stretch out luxuriously. I can't remember the last time that I got to wear something other than that spine-bending uniform! While the silence and isolation of my apartment provide a much-needed atmosphere of peace, it feels strange moving about without a camera permanently stuck in my face. I roll my head to the side, facing the empty half of the mattress. Where Matthew would sleep if he were here.
    The thought pops up so suddenly that it takes me by surprise. I force myself to shove it into a deep compartment of my mind. That makes it the second time I'd remembered him since the beginning of my rule. My flesh crawls with dread, and I pinch my arm so the pain can remove the image. What would Jeremy think if he found out that I still thought about my past sometimes? I can't keep showing weakness as if I'm anything like the real Enna! But then, does it really make that much of a difference? Massaging my temples, I sit up and close my eyes, distracting my wandering mind with thoughts of our current military operation.
    Jeremy had been absent lately, tending to his top soldiers and war-copters. Currently, they work to destroy New York City. The RScreened population still believes that an external enemy is behind the attacks, which makes the whole situation that much easier to handle. But the question still remains of where the actual Enna is hiding. Last I heard, the Base's top pilots are trying to track her with the remaining Motherships. Hopefully we can find her before she--
    Frantic knocking breaks my contemplative silence and a jolt racks my body. Breathing deeply, I yank my door open angrily to come face to face with a black-clothed Worker. She is a short woman with long red hair and a fierce curl to her lip.
    "What do you want?" I run a hand through my short hair, crossly. "Can't people get any sleep around here?"
    "Cut the attitude, Princess. I'm bringing an urgent message from the city."
    "From Jeremy?" I ask. All of the anger disappears from my demeanor. The woman nods grimly, and I quickly usher her inside my room, closing and locking the door behind us. "How are things going?"
    "Ask him yourself." The Worker removes a tablet from under the crook of her arm, and I grab it quickly. To activate it, I hold a thumb over the screen so the fingerprint sensor will recognize me. Once it grants access, the screen lights up to reveal a startling image. Jeremy Perkins crouches behind a pile of rubble, holding his own tablet just in front of his face. Bombs and small explosions dot the sky behind him.
    "Enna, I don't have long so listen carefully!" He speaks rushed, like there's a timer counting down his allotted moments. "I'm in New York right now, and things are going as smoothly as planned. Just a moment ago, I received word from two of our top pilots. They said that they received a positive signal from a sister aircraft, just before it caught fire mid-flight." I ball my hands into tight fists and the Worker gasps shortly. I guess she hadn't watched the video before delivering it to me. "These two trusted pilots traced the signal to the southwest, in Region Eight. Denver. After arriving, they found the smoking remains of Price's Mothership. We found no bodies."
    Jeremy takes the time to smile coldly, and in that small moment he looks like a hungry shark who just devoured its last meal. "Enna Price is dead." Just as the fact starts to sink in, a large explosion fills the sky in the near background and the video cuts off. I hand the tablet to the Worker and sit on the edge of my bed weakly. She's gone. For good. I'm the only Enna left, now.
    "Excuse me, but I must get back to my duties," the woman says shakily, making a beeline for the door. She leaves me alone with my thoughts. A grotesque picture rises in my mind: an image of Enna, Matthew, Victoria, and Gale going up in curling orange flames. Before I can help it, a cruel, giddy laugh that doesn't quite belong to me escapes my mouth, smashing through the silence. It takes several moments before I can stop.