Splitting a Match

Departure

14.

[Time: 12:22pm]

[Location: Castor Home

Seattle, Pangaea]

[Eight Days Later: December 18, 2097]

Even a week after I found Nate dead on the rooftop, a pistol bullet through his ripped heart, I was still reeling emotionally and physically. I couldn't go to his funeral, which was the 17th, because I feared complete emotional meltdown. I could no longer focus on the most basic tasks, and once Paul healed up (which was remarkably fast) and assumed his post, I requested some time off. Paul was gracious enough to give it to me, knowing full well what I was going through; Nate was like a son to him.

The most disturbing part of the whole scenario is the note scrawled in black marker across Nate's arm. Don't even think about joining Gamma, it said. Right then, I knew who did it. Delta. That was when I went completely berserk.

The next day we found Car's body on the street where I met him.

All I could do was fume and storm around the house, thinking, mourning, and planning. Planning revenge.

I felt completely incapacitated, like my arm was cut off. His absence was so different that I still didn't know what to make of it.

But one thing I did know: I could not stay passive and watch the rest of my friends get killed. The threat on Nate's arm was nothing to me. If anything, I now knew two things: Gamma was truly Delta's enemy, and it was enough of a threat to kill someone over it.

That meant there was hope.

Up to this point, my knowledge of Gamma was extremely limited, nearly all constrained to what Car had told me. It was in Australia, and it sounded dangerous. Yet it was the only option I knew that held some promise of doing what I needed it to do: save Krys and avenge Jared and Nate's death.

So I planned to pack my bags the next day.

~~αβδ~~

[December 19, 2097]

I slammed a suitcase down on my bed and began to fill it up with clothing. Shirts on the left, pants on the right, socks and underwear in the mesh pocket above that. Since that pretty much cleaned out my skimpy dresser and left plenty of space in the case, I took a quick run over to the Court House and quickly explained to Paul my plans. Telling me to grab a few pistols and saying he wanted to talk later, he resumed his post. I pocketed some extra magazines and stuffed two .45 handguns in my belt.

When I got back to the house, after dodging some pockets of Delta officers, I saw that Dad and Krys were in my room, looking thoughtfully at my half-full suitcase. I stopped in the doorway.

Dad gave me a solemn nod, and I returned it. Then he spoke, "Hello, Emmett."

"Hi, Dad. Hi Krys," I replied, pulling my jacket closer to conceal the weapons.

"We're just wondering what's going on here," Dad said, gesturing to the bag.

I bit my lip, deciding if I should tell the truth or not. Immediately, I knew I had to. I sat down on the bed next to Krys and fumbled with my hands for a few seconds.

"You know, Dad, with all the things that have gone on recently, with Nate and Paul and Jared and...Krys," I said, cautiously glancing toward my sister. "I decided that I have to do something. I can't sit here and wait for the rest of my friends to get killed."