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

Chapter Thirty Six

Danny had called back about an hour later. He told me that Leah, Oscar and Becca were safe and waiting near the train yard. He said that the helicopters should arrive in about an hour, and that I should be prepared for action. But none of that excited me as much as it should have. Danny didn't offer one solution for how to get Matthew out of here.
I've tried to contact him through the headphones, but none of my attempts led to fruition. Instead of thinking about escape, I can only wonder why the guards were wearing resistance wristbands. Did they catch on to the symbol and try to trick people out of hiding? Or did they randomly come across them? Maybe there are more labor camps here, and they imprisoned every last one of the Resistance...
And then, I remember.
When Luke had confronted me in the streets of New York, his communication device recorded our conversation about the red wristbands. My pulse slams against my temples like tiny hammers. This is yet another thing that I'm responsible for.
    I sigh and shift on the flat mattress, stomach gurgling voraciously. A minute turns into ten minutes. I dig through the small fridge and down a bottle of water.
Thirty minutes.
I eat a whole package of sunflower seeds.
Forty-five minutes. I stare at the ceiling, stomach churning with nerves.
Sixty minutes...
I start to lose touch of reality or the passage of time after that. But eventually, I hear a shuddering slam that propels me up from my passive position. A beat. Then the tromp of military boots and exclamations of shock.
I rush over to the window set into my door, peering into the hallway. Where it had once been crowded with guards, there is only emptiness. I crack open my door and step into the hallway. No one apprehends me. Carefully, I slink along the route that brought me to my room, hoping to make a quick exit. Hoping that Matthew can find his way from wherever they took him.
    " --Enna Price." I hear my name tagged along at the end of an accusatory sentence. My footsteps quicken, and soon I find myself in the lobby once again. Soldiers wearing rags and wristbands confront a small group of black-clad men who block the door. I can hear the steady whirring of helicopter turbines from outside. My spirit lifts.
    "What about me?" I demand. Like a wave, everyone turns on their heels to stare at me. I straighten my spine and try to look as regal as I can, what with being covered in dirt and blood.
    "Ms. Price," one of the black-clothed men says in a rumbling voice. I recognize him instantly from the hideout in New York. The men in black are allies in disguise. "These lunatics refuse to believe that we were sent to retrieve you." Playing along, I raise my eyebrows and stare threateningly at the real soldiers.
    "Is this so?" I drawl. They stare back at me silently, fear and uncertainty playing over their features. "I hope you remember that I have many servants at my disposal..." Instantly, they start talking, one on top of the other.
    "Of course not!"
    "There's no need for that..."
    "We were just quizzing them, honest!"
    Footsteps sound behind me, and two guards drag Matthew into the lobby swarming with soldiers and imposters. I have to hide a gasp at the sight of him. He looks barely conscious, with purple-green bruises and bloodied wounds all over his head.
    "What's all this?" One of Matthew's torturers asks indignantly. Just because I can, I step forward and slap him across the face. He stares at me, wide-eyed with shock. His skin burns bright red where I struck him.
    "Did I ever ask you to punish my prisoner?" I growl dangerously. Complete silence permeates the close air.
    "No, ma'm," he stutters.
    "I didn't think so," I whisper. Genuine fury strengthens my resolve.
    "Ready, Ms. Price?" One of the resistance men asks.
    "Obviously." It's strange, how easy I'm finding it now to become Fake Enna, to display cruelty in every situation. Maybe we aren't so different.
I turn to the two men who hold Matthew upright. "You two: help him into the helicopter." They rush to fulfill my wishes. Just as I start to move towards the front door, the urgent sound of running footsteps sounds from behind me. What now?
    "DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!" Someone screams. Instantly, I recognize him as the bald soldier. "THAT'S NOT ENNA PRICE!"
    And then, with an odd feeling of deja vu, I sprint towards the escape doors. The black-clad rebels instantly begin to scream and fire on the soldiers wearing rags. Bullets and insults soar over my head. All I can focus on is sprinting out of the building. I trip down the set of stairs near the front door, losing my breath and gaining several stinging cuts. I scramble to my feet and run to where a helicopter lies in wait like a giant, hollow insect roosting in the city street. A guard helps me in. I turn around. Soldiers and wounded bodies pour through the doorway of the school like floodwaters through a dam. A few of the resistance guards limp over to the helicopter and jump in. A few of the actual soldiers sprint our way, trying to sabotage the copter.
    "Go, go, go!" The pilot screams. The aircraft starts to lift vertically. It's then when I see him. Matthew elbows his captors in the face and stumbles down the steps, pushing through the crowd of fighting men.
    "Stop!" I yell, my voice tearing at my already-fragile vocal chords. "He's trying to escape, stop!" My desperate voice is lost among the screaming rotors of the helicopter. I can only watch in disbelieving agony as Matthew sprints towards us. We gain even more height, and the aspiring hijackers leap into the air, barely clinging to the nearest landing skid before falling back to the asphalt.
    "Isn't there a ladder or something?" I demand, swiveling on the guard nearest me. He shrugs and points down to the ruckus below us, indicating that it would be too risky with so many enemies nearby. Staring down at the ground, now way too far below us, I start to sob. It doesn't end until someone carries me over to a seat, buckling me in tightly. Miraculously, I fall asleep.