Book II | Part 7: Germination

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My voice cracked, my taste buds stuck to the roof of my mouth, and the last twenty minutes of nonstop talking didn't help the situation

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My voice cracked, my taste buds stuck to the roof of my mouth, and the last twenty minutes of nonstop talking didn't help the situation. Thirst had been on my mind more than the utter darkness surrounding me. My damaged suit had never extended my straw to allow me a sip and we had removed the pack and its connections, so there was no way to access my water. However, I had to continually communicate to try and convince Patrick to return to me.

I had grown accustomed to his soft breaths. Each inhale and exhale in my ear soothed my anxiety like a baby's lullaby, although I preferred his voice, and for a brief moment, the thought of him never returning to my side left me with a nauseating emptiness.

"It's getting cold, and I'd like to gather my suit to keep warm. Sure, I can try to make my way back where I left it, but it would be so much easier if you were here with the light." After each statement, I had expected him to respond, but his breathing was the only thing that let me know he was still okay.

Still, I couldn't bear the thought of him in emotional pain. I knew the agony of that type of suffering.

"I would never want anyone to suffer like I've done since losing the ones I loved. And neither did Em. She tried her very best to make sure everyone in the facility was treated with the utmost care and respect. And there're certain things she did to ensure that level of justice, but she was punished for it, and now I'm being punished for my part."

The silence over the headset disappeared as Patrick's melancholy voice broke through. "What did you do, Damien? What did she do?"

With the sound of his voice in my ears, relief rushed me, causing the heaviness in my heart to lift. "She only helped people. She stood up for them. Spoke out against wrongdoing."

"Helping people doesn't give you a death sentence."

"It did, and that's because we helped the wrong people in the eyes of the ones doing the sentencing."

"You're not gonna say why you were really sent out here to die, huh?"

"Not every question needs an answer. I'm sorry, Patrick, but I promised her that I would keep my mouth sealed. Everything I know, I will take with me to my grave."

Visions of the upper hemi within the facility flashed through my mind along with a scene of scared and distraught faces rushing down the halls, pushing and shoving, or cowering in corners; smoke filling the corridors and rooms; and glimpses of red lights blinking on and off in the darkness. Sirens, coughing, and screaming ringing in my ears. Em's panic-stricken voice shouting, "Stop this. It isn't right. These are people. Please, stop." Me pushing through the crowd toward her, hand extended, reaching. A bright explosion shakes the ground beneath me and knocks me off balance, and then blackness and silence.

The sound of falling sand to my right demanded my attention. Pressing my back against the dirt wall of the trench, I listened for footsteps, hoping the building or its dismantled parts weren't shifting. When Patrick's light shone over the edge of the trench, I breathed a sigh of relief.

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