He gives me a funny look and sighs. “Whatever, if it helps you get over what’s-his-face. I’ll get you paint.”
I exhale and pull myself upright. I feel numb, detached from the world. I don’t care if the whole place caves in at this rate. I just can’t shake the disparity of my situation. Cole is gone. Why couldn’t Keegan let him stay in another part of the compound? Or trust me.
I stand in front of the mirror and pull my greasy hair into a bun. Then I wrap my hands the same way Bruno taught me. They’re so tight the blood flow is partially cut off to my fingers. I shake my arms and legs out to relax myself. I can do this. It’s just a couple of hours.
* * *
A blow to my cheekbone rouses me.
“Come on, Lexi, you’re getting your ass kicked,” Keegan shouts across the room.
I rub my face in surprise. A girl dances across from me with her fists raised. She’s taller, with straight black hair and a nasty glare. She hits me with a hook on the side of my head.
I groan.
“Protect yourself!” he yells at me again.
I won’t be humiliated anymore. Focus. Just focus. I jab and then hit her with an uppercut right in the sweet spot, and she stumbles backward.
“Better!” Keegan claps.
We do push-ups every ten minutes. We run sprints to warm up and run sprints to cool down. In the mornings, I learn hand-to-hand combat, and in the evenings, we go through weapons training in an indoor range.
When Keegan hands me a gun, my hand shakes so much that I don’t hit anything near the target. Last time I attempted shooting, it was to save Cole and Bruno. It’s not as easy when I have to think about it.
Keegan stands behind me as I try again and seems agitated by my lack of focus. He hands me a smaller pistol. “Here, use this one. It’s more your size.”
“What kind is it?”
“It’s a .40 caliber Glock. It’s a subcompact so it’ll fit perfectly in your hands. Just try it.”
I stand with my feet shoulder-width apart, using both hands to steady myself. I shoot and miss the red circle around the target. Crap. I glance at others as they shoot, feeling self-conscious because they all seem comfortable with what they’re doing. Even the younger citizens seem at ease.
“It’s okay. You’ll get better with practice—lots of practice.” Keegan encourages me.
I exhale. I’ve got to improve. I fill my clip again and try from a closer standpoint. The gun kicks as I squeeze the trigger, but a small hole appears in the target. Excitement over this small accomplishment gives me some satisfaction. I try again and hit it again. It’s not close to the first hole, but I hit it twice in a row.
Saturday. I wake up and see two tin cans sitting in the corner of my room with two paintbrushes lying on top. I jump out of bed and touch them to make sure they’re real. Black paint fills the first one and the second one contains red. I inhale, and the fumes make me light-headed, but I don’t care. It’s here. It’s real, and I get to paint. Thank you, Keegan.
After grabbing a small breakfast at the cafeteria, I shuffle back to my room. I keep my head low, making sure to avoid eye contact with everyone. I have no desire for small talk. The only goal I have right now is to get back to my room without an incident.
I balance my body just right to ensure I don’t fall over when painting. This is different from anything I’ve ever painted before. It’s the future. I arrange the tins perfectly in order to access both colors. I brush up and down, left and right, red and black, black and red. My arms go numb from painting so long.
When I’m not eating, sleeping, or training, I paint. The tension melts away as I do it. I draw the silhouettes of my father and Alyssa sitting on Lexington bay, watching the waves roll in and out.
“What’s that?” Keegan asks as he points to the Monet-style paintings.
I jump, almost falling off the stool.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Just watching.”
I begin putting the brushes away and placing the lids back on the cans. “Squint your eyes and look left to right.”
His eyes widen as he inspects my work. “Holy cow. It’s the Hole getting blown to pieces,” he says while shaking his head. “Damn, that’s amazing. I didn’t know you could paint. It’s kinda Gothic. I like it.” He smiles with satisfaction until his eyes come to rest on part of the painting.
“Is that…?” He stares at the figure of our father.
“Yes, and my friend Alyssa who died of some kind of virus.”
“Was she from the outside?” He sits down on my bed, taking in the bay. It’s breathtaking even when painted in black and red.
“Yes, but she was exiled to the Hole.”
“So how’d you meet her?”
“At the hospital. She was very sick. Sutton did everything he could to save her.”
He looks at me with questioning eyes.
“There’s not a lot of meds available here. Maybe she would’ve survived if she was treated in another place.” It feels like years ago now but hurts all the same.
Keegan shakes his head in loathing. “That’s disgusting. How can they deny a life?”
“You’re a hypocrite.”
“What? How?”
“You’re going to deny lots of lives with this revolt.”
“That doesn’t count.”
I don’t respond.
“Who’s that laying in a puddle of blood?” he asks, changing the subject. His eyes squint as he peers at a small figure in the corner of the painting.
“Me.”
He nods with confusion. An uncomfortable silence lingers, so he stands and leaves.
I turn off my lights and lie in darkness. I smell like sweat, but getting in the shower requires energy, and right now, I don’t have any reserves. I kick off my boots but can’t kick this feeling of abandonment. I thought we both wanted the same thing—to be together. Isn’t this the only way?
I squeeze my eyes closed, but his face, his beautiful face, is etched perfectly in my mind—his long, dark lashes over his charcoal eyes, his dimples when he smiles, his full lips kissing me. Oh God, I’m withering inside.
CHAPTER 19
Tuesday. Target shooting.
Wednesday. Obstacles. Climbing ropes, scaling walls, running through a course, and crawling through another. My hands are raw and my knuckles are scabbed over. It’s the only thing that gives me comfort.
Thursday. Shooting moving targets, shooting while lying down, falling, running, jumping, shooting everything.
Friday. Scenario training.
Saturday. Knife training. Bomb training. Training in everything. It feels good to keep my brain busy.
Sunday. I run my finger up my calves and thighs, feeling the bumps and rigid muscles forming. I’m secretly satisfied.
I unintentionally paint Cole’s eyes on the third wall of my room. I begin with an oval, and next thing I know, it’s his eyes. Always watching me wherever I go. I can train all day, every day, but he’ll never be far from my mind.
Monday. I wake up ready to kick some ass. After taking a hot shower, I pull on fresh clothes. I bind my hair tightly while inspecting myself in the mirror. My face has gained some color from eating better and exercising, but it’s still lean like the rest of me. My form-fitting shirt flatters my athletic frame. I smirk, pleased with my transformation. I wish Cole were here to see it. No… I can’t think like that today. I squash the argument in my brain and bounce into the cafeteria. Keegan looks up from his crowded table and stares at me, dumbfounded.
“Would it be all right if I joined you?” I say as I put my tray of food down beside him. “I’m sorry.”
“Finally! Thank God, I was starting to worry that I lost you forever,” he smacks me on my back. “Watch out, fellas, my little sister here is going to do some serious ass-kicking.”
“I don’t know about that,” I whisper.
“You will.”
“Oh really? How do you know that?”
“Because
I can see all the potential you have. You’re just blind to it,” Keegan says. “If you want strength, you need to eat.” He shoves more food in my direction, and I laugh out loud.
“I’m going to barf if I eat any more.” I push his tray away. “So how do you get all this food anyway? Everyone up top has to scrounge for it.”
“We grow some down here. We barter for the rest.” He shovels in a mouthful of potatoes and keeps talking. “Told you we have connections.”
“Eww, your manners suck. You’re spitting food all over me.” I pick up a napkin and wipe my shirt.
He laughs and more falls out of his mouth onto the table. “Like seafood?”
I swat him and laugh. Some things never change.
The others at the table look at him and then at me. It’s the first time I really see them. They smile politely and laugh along with us. We’re an athletic group, a multicultural quilt of people. I feel at home here and almost safe.
This time I run faster, hit harder, and Keegan matches me up against some of his guys. We wrestle, and I get pinned a few times.
“Damn it. Push yourself!” Keegan shouts. He circles the room, keeping his eyes on everyone. He stops at my mat, evaluating me as I roll around. “Wow, that was impressive! I’m glad you’re over that idiot.”
I clench my teeth and ball my hands into fists. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Oh, but I would give anything to deck him right now.
“At least he allowed you to train well. That’s all the credit I can give that—Wow!”
I reverse my competitor’s guard and end up in a full mount. My smile takes up my entire face. I stand up, and shake hands with my opponent. He’s a little taller than me and slim, but I still beat him.
The training is rough. In the beginning, my body hurt everywhere, but I feel it adjusting to the grind. The daily torture dampens my mental anguish because I’m too busy to think about Cole.
“That’s it for the morning, guys. Go rest up,” Keegan puts his arm around me. “When the revolt breaks out, I want you on my team.” He turns to walk toward the showers.
I chase him, tugging at his shirt. “What do you mean?”
He continues walking, so I match his stride. “For the main operation, we divided everyone into teams. I’m assigning you to my team. One, because I want to look after you, and two, because you’re that damn good.” He cracks his neck and stops with his hand on the light switch. People pass, but we don’t move.
“Who leads the other teams?”
“Sutton, Bruno, and a lot of others… People you haven’t met. Why?” His eyes search mine with a cool stare.
“Just wondered,” I mumble. Obviously Bruno’s alive if he’s going to lead a team, I think with satisfaction. If he’s still kicking, then chances are so is Cole.
“For God’s sake, please tell me it’s not because of him.” His cobalt eyes see right through me. “He can’t be trusted, and for that reason alone, he’s not welcome anywhere near my group.” He takes a deep breath. “Enough about him. Go shower. I’ll catch up with you later.”
I start to speak again, but he’s not in the mood. He slams the switch down and the lights flicker off. The room feels lonely and smells like body odor.
I shuffle to the women’s showers and tiptoe past the stalls before anyone can talk to me.
“I love you, Lexi. You’re all I want. You’re the air I breathe, the very reason for my existence,” Cole says as he kisses along my jawline, my ear, and my neck. Bright light frames his perfect face, and warmth from his body radiates against mine.
I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. “You have no idea how much I love you,” I say.
His eyes light up, and he pulls my left hand to his chest, fingering my ring. “I’ll never let you down,” he says.
I wake up drowning in perspiration and twisted sheets and grasp at my heart as the tears flow down my face. Pain courses through my entire body, causing me to heave. I sprint to the bathroom down the hall to puke and return, collapsing on my bed.
Even though I haven’t seen him in weeks, his face appears in my dreams regularly. It haunts me to remember the hurt in his eyes, his face when I chose to fight with Keegan over him. But I didn’t choose it over him. I chose to fight for us, for my father. My mind twists, desiring to see him, yet I’m nervous he’ll hate me for everything.
The longing always seeps back in despite my attempts to keep busy. The longing for his face, his voice, and his body against mine. I retch in pain while remembering how he touched me. His hands caressed me here, and I touch my cheek. And here. I touch my lips.
I take the ring off my left finger and read the inscription again. “Dad, if you hear me, please, watch over Cole. There’s no way I’d overcome losing him,” I whisper.
“Morning! Hope you’re ready. We have a busy day. First, training, second, a meeting, and then lunch. Everyone’s expected to be punctual—including you! So no farting around,” Keegan says as he walks into my room unannounced.
“Would it kill you to knock?” I ask, sitting up in my bed. “Or is that too much to ask?”
“What’s it matter? Are you trying to hide something from me?” he asks with his arms folded across his chest.
“No, I just want some freaking privacy.”
He arches his eyebrow and evaluates me for a minute. “Whatever. Get up and let’s go.”
“Fine.” I stand up, pull on my boots, and draw my hair away from my face. When I finish, he rolls his eyes and exhales deeply, as if searching for an ounce of patience. Then I follow him down the hall as he enters a few other rooms to rouse people.
He leaves halfway through training and we continue on like good pupils.
Two hours race by. My brain spins from experimenting with pressure points. I see stars when they practice on me. One person passes out, and the medical personnel take him away.
Everyone rushes to shower and meet at the main conference room. I have no idea where to go, so I follow the crowd. They stand outside the heavy doors, waiting to go in. They all form their cliques, but I stand alone against the wall. The light above me keeps flickering, but no one seems to notice. It’s quiet except for the murmuring within their closed circles.
Keegan arrives, and everyone parts like the Red Sea. Several large, armed men follow him. I glance at his entourage and am surprised to see Sutton, Bruno, Zeus, and Cole following along. Sutton nods his head my direction but says nothing. Zeus lunges, jumping and licking my face.
I stumble backward into the wall, laughing. “Zeus! How’s my boy? I’ve missed you!” I wrap my hands around his big ears and scratch his head. The joy is short-lived when I notice everyone staring at me.
Keegan looks mortified. “Please get that stupid dog away from her,” he says.
Cole and Keegan’s men move toward Zeus, but he refuses to move. He plants himself in front of me and bares his canine teeth with ferocity. They try to grab his collar, but he growls and snaps at them.
“It’s fine. Just let him stay with me, unless you want someone to get hurt.” I put my hand through his collar and he doesn’t mind. When I look up, Cole’s eyes meet mine for the first time in weeks. I’m stunned like the first time I met him. He looks more appealing than ever. His hair is newly faded, the way I like it, and his short-sleeved T-shirt gives a glimpse of his well-muscled arms. Something like regret passes behind those familiar, dark eyes as he approaches me, and I want to dive into his skin.
“He needs to spend time with you. He’s been hurting since you’ve been gone,” Cole says. “But nowhere close to the hell I’ve been living without you.”
I’m unable to respond. My heart deflates, and I want to drop to my knees and beg him to forgive my brother for being a jerk. But his tall, masculine figure passes me as Keegan shouts for everyone to go in.
“What the hell? Are you trying to start a riot?” Keegan grabs my arm and shoves me through the doors. Zeus growls at him but stays closely by my side.
“Keep that dog under
control or I’ll have no problem putting a bullet through his head.” The gruffness of his voice scares me and I don’t doubt he’d follow through, but if he harms Zeus, I’ll shoot him where the sun don’t shine.
I recognize this room as the control room where Keegan first took Bruno, Cole, and me. I walk to a spot around the large table in the center and take a seat. People file in until the space is packed with bodies.
Zeus huffs and lies on top of my feet, practically cutting off my circulation until I force him to move a little. “Zeus, seriously…” He refuses to move more than three inches away from me, so I end up sitting cross-legged in my seat, feeling a bit childish. Oh well, I miss him too much to make him get up.
Someone dims the lights as the screens mounted on the walls light up, showing hundreds of people, also underground in other areas of the Hole, anticipating the meeting.
Keegan paces around the center table. “Greetings, fellow warriors! You’re probably wondering why we’re having a meeting this early.” He stands with his fingers steepled in confidence. “It’s time we explain our plans. Many of you know Dr. Sutton, or Sutton, as we call him. He’s a doctor in the hospital, and most importantly, a leader of our great rebellion. He has high connections. With his leadership and knowledge, we’ll take down the Hole, the commander, and acquire power for ourselves!”
Everyone cheers and claps. The person next to me whistles, and Zeus’s ears perk up. I arch my back a little to scan the crowd and see Sutton sitting in the front row, along with Bruno and Cole. They look uptight, but they still clap at all the appropriate times.
“With no further ado, Sutton is here to speak to us today. He doesn’t have a lot of time, so we ask for your complete attention.” Keegan sits down, and the people clap again as Sutton stands.
I catch Cole’s eye. I don’t want to look, but I do. I don’t want to stare, but I can’t stop myself. I break away. I feel the weight of his eyes on my face as a deep flush crawls up my cheeks. He still loves me. I know it.
Keegan hands Sutton a remote. Sutton turns on a hologram that seemingly floats over the center table. The picture is fuzzy at first, but as it clears, a 3D diagram of the Hole becomes defined—the large walls encircling the Hole, the commander’s residence, and the streets with their buildings and shantytowns. I’m confounded by the size, the thickness of the walls with the pathway on top, and the distance we’ll need to travel on foot. My eyes settle on the tallest building—the hospital. It sits central to all the activity. It sickens me to think there’s only one hospital for everyone. It’s no wonder it was always packed, always busy, and disgustingly dirty. Well, except for the basement where the guards train. Yet, how lucky was I to receive a job there, working under Sutton, of all people?