The Arena - The Moon Trilogy - Book #2

Chapter sixteen:

When she'd descended again into the cellar safe-house, everyone's eyes were on her, including Johnny's. He had arrived before her and was now leaning against one of the numerous cabinets in the room. His gaze held something different than that of the others, but she couldn't be bothered to figure out what. She was too busy dreading the questions she knew would come.

"Whatever just happened, you can tell us later," Sam said, he was seated between Rachel and Clara, his legs crossed. "Right now, we need to figure out a course of action. We can't just stay in hiding forever."

"Sam's right. Even if we do stay hidden, they'll find us eventually." Rachel chimed in with her usual pessimistic input.

Clarity wordlessly righted the knocked-over chair. She was getting light-headed, so she sat down heavily. Her chair scooted back a couple of inches, scraping against the concrete. The headache from before still persisted at the back of her head.

"We could try and find their headquarters, like we did with the Organization." Clara suggested.

"But with the Organization, we had a place to start." Alex countered. "And someone who knew where it was and how to get there."

"Good point. Maybe we can find our way back to that underground base. There must be something there that could help." Clara offered another suggestion.

"That place is probably crawling with people by now." This time it was Sam who objected.

Clarity's headache was rising in intensity, making it hard to concentrate on the conversation. She closed her eyes, thinking that it might dull the edge of the ache if the light was toned down. But it didn't, and she was soon wincing under the force of the pounding pain.

The conversation around her suddenly stopped. She opened her eyes. To her dismay, she was once again in the black room. The one from her dreams.

Like previous times, August was standing in the middle of the room, but he looked different. Instead of normal clothes, he wore a white garment that closely resembled a hospital gown. His eyes held an empty stare, and his head was partially shaved. A few odd wires stuck out were the hair had been buzzed away.

She was immediately apprehensive. The last time August had looked like that, he had been under the influence of the Organization. She tried her little teleportation trick, thinking hard of the underground room where she knew she had to be sitting, but it was to no avail.

She tried running away. Maybe if she got far enough, he wouldn't be able to reach her with his telepathic abilities. But no matter how fast her legs moved, she stayed glued to the spot. She should have guessed that physics would be all screwed up in a place like this.

Nothing that she tried was working. He had her firmly in his mental grasp. She knew that much.

He took a step, and he seemed to glitch forward. With one movement, he was no more than a few inches in front of her. At this distance, she could see stitches lacing his face. He was bandaged heavily in more than one spot, and there was crusted blood on his hairline.

She felt it the moment that he entered her thoughts. It felt like her head was too full. She was pushed to the side and she felt the control of her thoughts and body slip away. She knew that he was gathering information.

She tried to resist, but nothing worked- nothing could work. She was nothing more than a tiny, flickering candle in the face of an ocean. She had been forced into the farthest and smallest corner of her mind.

She tried to break free of his grip, but already, she was too weak. Every cell of her body burned with the effort to drive him out, but she just couldn't. It felt like someone was kicking her out of her own house, but instead, it was her body that she was being kicked out of.

A second later, he stopped. She knew that he had what he needed. He stepped back, but instead of simply moving away, he vanished entirely.

Unlike the other times in the black room, she didn't leave when August did. She stayed there, standing stock-still. She couldn't move. If she moved, she would surely collapse to the floor. She couldn't trust her weakened and aching muscles.

Her mind felt foreign now, like it had been scrubbed clean of everything that made it hers. This wasn't like the last times that August had been in her head.

Despite her efforts to remain upright, she felt herself being pulled to the floor. She didn't know gravity could be so strong. She struck the blackness that had just been beneath her feet. She didn't really feel it. She was too tired to feel it. She just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. So that's what she did.

She closed her eyes.

She could feel herself drifting off.

She couldn't feel her body anymore.

It felt strange, like she was free of the aching lump of flesh that she'd once inhabited.

Dying wasn't as bad as everyone made it out to be... if this really was dying.

********

Rachel leaped up and rushed to Clarity. There hadn't been any warning; she hadn't made a sound nor complained of any problem. She had simply fallen forward and crashed head-first onto the concrete.

Rachel knelt over Clarity's prone form. She felt for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. She rolled Clarity unto her back. There was no expression on her face, nothing to tell whether or not she was in pain or semi-conscious.

Rachel tried to puzzle out what might be wrong. Was it something to do with Clarity's earlier disappearance? Probably not.

The others were huddled around now, as well.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked worriedly. Apparently, Rachel wasn't the only one completely in the dark about this.

"I have no idea," Rachel replied. She rose to her feet and backed away.

"We have to do something." Clara protested. "You can't just give up."

"We don't know what's wrong with her, and if we don't know what's wrong, we can't do anything to help." Rachel said, trying to suppress annoyance. "We could end up making things worse."

Clara was about to say something when Sam interjected. "There's no use fighting over it. That won't help anything."

Johnathan pushed through the ring of people surrounding Clarity's still figure. He crouched down and felt her pulse. Doesn't he know that I've already done that?

After a second, he moved his hand and placed it across Clarity's forehead. He did this for a moment before moving, placing one hand on either side of her face. What did he think that would even accomplish?

Rachel had no clue what he was doing. Out of the whole group, Johnathan was the one she knew the least about. He never talked about himself. He only engaged in conversations when it was mandatory. She knew almost nothing about him, other than his name of course. Out of all the people, he was the one that had to know what to do? She didn't trust him.

Rachel couldn't see Clarity's chest moving anymore. She told herself that it was because she was too far away. It was because Johnathan was blocking part of her view. But she couldn't fight the rising sense of dread.

Johnathan didn't take his hands away from the sides of Clarity's face. The fact brought her hope. If he was still doing that, then she must not be dead. At least, that's what she continued to tell herself.

For all she knew, Johnathan was performing his ritual of mourning. He was so strange, that that might just be the case. She couldn't even begin to guess what was going through his head.

She checked again, and from what she could see, there weren't any signs of life. She leaned closer, desperate to see something—anything—that might mean the other girl was alive.

The thought made a lump form in her throat. As far as she could remember, she hadn't cried in forever, but to her surprise, a tear traced a path down her cheek.

Clarity was dead...