Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) (23 page)

If there wasn’t the
important matter of what I just saw, I’d be terrified about the proximity of
these past two visions. As it stands, I don’t have time to worry about that
now.

“Ra—” I wheeze, attempting
to speak.

The exertion only unsettles
my body, igniting the cycle of aftereffects that now begin to attack me.

Blood spurts from my mouth
as a string of violent coughs tear up from my throat. Despite how weak I am, I
manage to hurl myself forward and spew on the floor. I shudder with each heave,
and an icy feeling runs across my skin, frightening me with its intensity.

I can feel Ezra’s hands on
me the entire time. They never leave my body, instead holding me steady until
the sickness passes. Finally, I collapse back against him, completely
drained—my chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

“Wynter,” he whispers.
“Wynter, what did you see?”

My eyes shoot open,
suddenly remembering the vision. “Rai . . .” I’m too tired to say more, even
though I have to. I look up at Ezra, trying to tell him everything with a
single glance.

“What about Rai?” he asks.
“She’s right—”

He turns to peer over his
shoulder, but the only person standing there is Jenner. He instantly
straightens up, and I can feel the panic rushing through his every strained
muscle.

“Where is she?” he growls.

Jenner scans the length of
the hallway, but seems just as surprised to find her missing. “She was right
behind us!” he stammers.

Ezra meets my gaze, pulling
me so close to him that I’m practically upright. “Where is she, Wynter? Where’s
Rai?”

My head is spinning, and I
find myself panting, despite my attempts to control my breathing. The pain
still clouds my brain, causing a terrible haze to obscure everything around me.
I can see Ezra. I can
hear
him.

But it’s so hard to reach
him.

“Rai . . .” I breathe,
fighting to speak. “Richter . . .”

Ezra turns away from me,
and it’s obvious from his expression that he’s realized what she’s done. I
think he knew back when he first told her that Richter was here that it was
always a possibility she would try to find him. Maybe that’s the only reason
she even came in the first place. Maybe she suspected he had something to do
with this and wanted to end it, once and for all.

“I have to find her.”

His hazel eyes stare down
into mine, begging me for guidance.

“Bilken’s office,” I manage
to say to him.

He nods his head once and
then leans in close, so our faces are only a few inches apart. The pain in his
eyes is apparent when he speaks.

“I need you to go with
Jenner,” he murmurs. “He's going to get you out of here and help you to
safety—”

“No . . .” I try to argue.
My voice fails me when I need it most, and I find myself weakly clinging to his
coat in a desperate attempt to keep him here.

I'm unfamiliar with the
emotions that possess me at this moment. It's as if the fear has taken hold of
me and is controlling my every movement, torturing me with the one outcome I'm
beginning to realize I'm most afraid of. The absolute dread that if he leaves,
I'll never see him again—regardless of what the future tells me.

As much as I want to save
Rai, I can't let him go.

As much as I want to save
her, I can't let him die.

“Uhh . . . I hate to spoil
a perfectly good plan,” Jenner interrupts. “But I don't think that's a
possibility right now.”

We all glance up at the
same moment, distracted by the heavy footfalls coming from the other end of the
hallway. The first Enforcers round the corner, cutting off our exit.

Ezra curses under his
breath as he rises to his feet, hoisting me up as quickly and gently as
possible. The emotional struggle raging inside of him is mirrored on his face.
If he wants to save Rai, he has no choice now except to take us with him.

“Come on!” he shouts.

He wraps his arm around my
waist and sets off down the corridor in the opposite direction of the
Enforcers—back toward Bilken’s office. Regardless of our pursuers, I’m
completely incapable of walking, let alone running. I’m too weak. The visions
have taken their toll on me, and there’s nothing I can do to recover from them
right now.

He tries to run, and I can
sense his increasing frustration at my slowness. My feet drag against the
floor, despite my internal pleas for them to move.

We’ll never make it at this
rate,
I
realize.

I’m about to tell Ezra to
leave me when he suddenly bends down and scoops me off the floor, carrying my
entire weight versus simply supporting it. I’m taken aback by the ferocity in
his gaze as well as by the sheer power behind his every step. We’re building
momentum—somehow, impossibly, even with the added burden of my dead weight. The
Enforcers footsteps are growing distant, reassuring me that we might actually
make it out of this alive.

We turn into the corridor
where Bilken’s office is located, and I can see the faint light from the open
door splashing across the floor.

Ezra’s breaths reverberate
against me, encasing me in the fear and suspense of the moment. The distance to
the doorway is minimal now and growing smaller with every second.

Maybe we’ll make it,
I tell myself.

The whole time I think of
Rai, begging her to hold on just a few moments longer.

I tighten my grip on Ezra,
urging him to move faster. We’re so close. We’re nearly there.

A feeling of hope blossoms
in my chest.

Maybe we’ll—

My thoughts are cut off as
that fleeting glimpse of hope is killed right in front of me, destroyed by the
sound of a single gunshot.

We no longer move. It’s as
if time has ceased to exist around us, and all we can hear is the lasting
ringing.

We don’t see Rai.

We don’t have to.

The splash of blood sprayed
across the floor is enough.

Ezra drops me as he falls
to his knees. I stumble as I try to find my footing, but my legs are still too
weak. I’m about to collapse when strong arms,
new
arms, grab hold of me.

“I got you,” I hear Jenner
whisper in my ear.

I allow Jenner to take my
weight as I glance between Ezra and the bloodstained floor. This can’t be
happening. We were
here
. We had
made
it.

This can’t be . . .

“We’re too late,” I breathe
in disbelief.

“No!” Ezra screams.

His hand reaches for his
gun as he jumps to his feet, driven by the extreme rage now coursing through
his body. I know what he’s going to do—what he intends to do. He has a new
mission, and its focus is one thing and one thing only.

To kill Richter.

I reach out, pleading for
him to stop. There’s no time for this. There’s barely time for us to escape.
One death is enough. I can’t let it become two.

Jenner, seeming to sense
what I’m feeling, carefully places me on the floor and dives after Ezra. He
grabs him by his coat, using all of his weight to hold him back.

“There’s nothing we can
do!” he growls. “We have to go!”

Ezra struggles away from
him, unwilling to listen to reason—too hell-bent on revenge. He pushes against
Jenner, who launches himself forward. In one unexpected movement, he punches
Ezra in the face.

I wince when I hear his
fist make contact, but at the same time, it seems to work, which I'm grateful
for. Ezra falters back, no longer fighting.

“Listen to me!” Jenner
yells at him. “Are you ready to die for revenge? Are you ready to let
her
die?”

Suddenly, he’s pointing at
me. I glance between them in surprise, amazed by not only the pure fury in his
voice but also the impact bringing me into it seems to have on Ezra.

“I can't save her alone,”
Jenner murmurs.

Ezra’s eyes widen in
response to those words. The way he looks at me is unnerving, as if the anger
from before has given way to a new emotion.

An emotion which somewhat
resembles fear.

We all turn at once to the
approaching sound of footsteps. They march in time with one another, the noise
distinct due to the armor weighing them down. The Enforcers have almost caught
up to us. If we’re going to escape, it’s now or never.

Before I can even blink,
Jenner is crouching in front of me. Without hesitation, he picks me up from the
floor, lifting me easily into his arms.

It’s only now that I notice
how strong he is, not just physically, but mentally. When everyone else lacks
the strength to carry on, he is the one to pick up the pieces. To lead.

Without a backward glance,
he takes off down the hallway. I look over his shoulder, ready to scream for
Ezra to follow. Ready to beg him to forget about revenge and come with us. With
me
.

But I don’t have to. Relief
rushes through my body when I see him sprint after us, trailing Jenner’s steps.
He keeps his head down, his eyes turned away from me.

My heart clenches at the
pain that seems to radiate from him. If only there was something I could do.
Not to make him forget, but to let him know that we’ll make it through this.

One way or another.

Within a matter of minutes,
we’re back in the courtyard. We find the hatch easily enough, in spite of the
darkness. Fortunately, we make it without any further problems or delays and
before the Enforcers can overrun us.

Jenner sets me down as he
struggles to lift the door. It screeches when he pulls, the metal protesting
the recent overuse.

I glance down into the
black hole as a bright light shines up to greet us.

“What the shittin’ hell
took so long?” I hear a voice yell up. Duke’s voice.

“I’ll explain later!”
Jenner snaps. He turns back around and shifts my body in front of his, pressing
his hands against my waist. “Catch her, will ya?” he calls down.

I drop through the opening,
my stomach flipping on itself right up to the moment I land in Duke’s arms. He
reels back when he sees my face, gaping at the blood and the inevitable
blackness of my eyes.

He doesn’t say anything as
he places me on the ground beside him.

Ezra follows next, probably
forced by Jenner who likely doesn’t believe he would follow us otherwise. He
doesn’t speak. He just stands off to the side, waiting in silence.

When Jenner comes down, he
signals to the others and then returns to my side.

“Close it up,” he orders.

Duke casts quick glances
between the open hatch, Ezra, Jenner, and me—clearly feeling as if he’s missing
something.

“What about Rai?” he asks
warily.

A lump blocks my throat,
and I feel Jenner go rigid beside me. No one speaks.

“She’s gone,” Ezra says
after a moment, his voice lacking emotion.

He storms past us without
uttering another word. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t look at Jenner. He
simply walks past us, proceeding down the tunnel.

THE JOURNEY BACK TO THE compound is
long and silent. No one says anything, too afraid of upsetting Ezra and too
consumed by grief ourselves—the harsh reality of the past few hours finally
settling in.

Rai’s gone.

It’s strange how someone
can be there one minute and gone the next, like a flame being extinguished. I
suppose I’ve always understood this feeling. After all, my father was taken
from me just as suddenly.

Just as painfully.

We all give Ezra his space
as he trudges ahead of us, barely keeping within sight of the extensive reach
of our lights. He never looks back. He just keeps walking forward, his pace
steady and unchanging.

I struggle to keep up with
the others, even with Jenner’s help. He holds me close to him, supporting the
brunt of my body weight as I gradually regain my strength. Every once in a
while, I can sense him glancing down at me, probably checking to see if I’m all
right. I never meet his gaze. Not because I don’t want to look at him, but
because I don’t
dare
to look away from Ezra. I’m too afraid of what
might happen if I were to take my eyes away for even a second.

I try to imagine what his
face must look like at this moment, but all I can picture are tears. Silent,
endless tears—not that unlike the ones from my vision.

I’m overwhelmed by the
memory of it. By the sadness in his eyes as he whispered those three words.

“I’m sorry, Wynter.”

It’s difficult to imagine a
scenario where he would be apologizing to me, since right now, I’m the one
who’s sorry. If only I had seen it sooner, then maybe I would’ve been able to
do something.

Stop it.

Change
it . . .

Can the future even be
changed? If it can’t, then what’s the point of these visions? Why show me
something if there’s no hope of altering it, especially the events that I don’t
want to happen?

Of reversing our seemingly
fixed fates.

I think of Rai. There was a
goodness in her that was unique in my otherwise uniform life. In the short time
I knew her, she made me feel at home, even when I was a prisoner. She made me
feel welcome in a world where I had never once experienced that feeling—or
expected to.

She was special.

She was kind.

And because of me, she’s
dead.

Tears begin to spill down
my dirtied cheeks. I don’t whimper or try to suppress them. I just cry,
allowing the heartache to overtake me.

I let it in.

The pain.

The guilt.

All of it.

Time passes in a daze until
we finally arrive back at the hatch door leading into the compound. Ezra is
already through it by the time we get there, and we only catch a glimpse of him
disappearing around the corner.

Jenner lifts me over the
threshold to avoid any potential falls in my current condition, but as soon as
we’re back inside, he sets me on my feet. He then rushes forward.

“Ez!” he calls.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t go
after him. He just stands there, staring down the length of the empty hallway.

I stumble forward. “Maybe I
should go talk to him,” I whisper.

“No,” he says firmly. He
rocks back on his heels as he meets my gaze. “What Ezra needs right now is
space. We should leave him be.”

My lips part, ready to
protest, but no air rises from my lungs. No words to tell him he’s wrong,
because he isn’t. As it stands, he knows Ezra better than anyone. If space is
what he’s telling me to give him, then space is what he’ll get.

Besides, there’s a part of
me that’s reluctant to chase Ezra anyway. A very large part that’s afraid he’ll
blame me for Rai’s death. After all, that’s why he brought me along, wasn’t it?
To warn them?

To help avoid events such
as those that took her life.

I stare down the empty
corridor, afraid for new reasons. Afraid of confronting Ezra.

Afraid of him hating me.

A warm hand squeezes my
shoulder, momentarily freeing me from my distressed thoughts. I look up to see
Jenner peering down at me. There’s a certain tenderness in his expression. Or
maybe it’s sympathy. Either way, it makes me feel less alone.

“Hey,” he whispers. “You’re
already starting to look normal again.”

I flush, all too aware that
he’s referring to my eyes. The side effects of my visions always take a while
to clear up and return me to a state where I look relatively human. I’m not
sure why. All I know is that it’s getting worse and that the length of time
needed to recover is growing longer.

“You should go clean up and
get some sleep,” he murmurs. “It’s been a long night.”

Unsure of what else to do,
I reluctantly agree. I nod my head, and I’m about to set off when the sight of
his expression holds me back. He seems worried about something—like the weight
of the world is resting solely on his shoulders.

“What about you?” I ask
him.

He sighs as he runs a hand
through his black hair. It’s the first time I’ve seen him like this. The first
time I’ve seen him look genuinely on edge.

“I have to speak to a few
people,” he mutters. “They’re going to want an explanation about what happened
out there.”

I glance at him
questioningly, wondering why he seems so uneasy. “Do you mean your superiors?”
I ask.

He nods but refuses to say
anything more. Or maybe he’s unable to. Maybe the events of this night have
taken their toll on him as well and the extreme strength he conjured up—not
only for himself but for everyone else—has reached its limit.

Still, his expression of
dread concerns me.

“I wish there was something
I could do,” I breathe.

Warm fingers graze my
cheek, applying pressure under my chin and tilting my face until I’m forced to
look up at him. He holds my gaze for a long moment. His hand lingers against my
skin.

I can hear the air as it
spills from his lips in small irregular exhalations. I feel uncomfortable
beneath his piercing stare, but I can’t find the means to move or speak. Relief
courses through me when he breaks the silence, ending the strange and
unexpected tension between us.

“There is,” he says. “
Rest
.”

He emphasizes the last
word, and I can’t help but feel like a small child being scolded. An unwilling
smile breaks out across my lips, and all I can do is accept his command.

I turn to leave, my
shoulders sagging with exhaustion and the weight of everything that’s happened.
It’s like a heavy burden that I can’t rid myself of, no matter how desperately
I wish to be free of it.

“Wynter,” Jenner suddenly
calls after me.

I peek over my shoulder.
The way he looks at me is dark and unwavering, with something behind his eyes
that I can’t quite place. A warning, I think.

“What happened wasn’t your
fault,” he murmurs. “It was no one’s fault. I don’t want you thinking
otherwise.”

A sad smile pulls at the
corners of my lips, but all I can do is nod in agreement. Even if I don’t
believe him. Even if what happened to Rai
was
my fault. Besides, he’s
only saying this to make me feel better and let me know that he doesn’t blame
me, especially when there’s the possibility that someone else might.

His expression is stern,
and I lack the energy to argue. I stare at him for a moment before retreating
down the hall.

The compound is empty as I
make my way back toward my designated quarters. Considering the time of night,
that should come as no surprise, but the emptiness is still somewhat daunting.
It’s as if the entire place has been abandoned. What I imagine it would look
like if the day were to ever come when it's no longer safe to stay here.

A shiver runs up my spine
at the thought.

Let’s hope that day never
comes,
I
pray.

It’s only when I make it
back to my room that I realize just how exhausted I am. Not to mention filthy.
With a longing glance at my bed, I turn back into the hall, heading straight
for the showers.

The fluorescent lights
flicker on above me. I wince, unaccustomed to their glare after so many hours
in the darkness.

Stumbling toward an empty
cubicle, I reach out my arm and grip weakly at the nozzle. A drizzle of mist
sprays my face as the water turns on. My fingers tremble as I unstrap my pack
and peel off my dirty clothes one piece at a time. They fall to the floor with
a dull thud.

I’m about to step under the
gushing water when something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
I turn, a scream rising in my throat when I see the person staring back at me.

Blood and sweat are caked
on her face and tangled in her wild, unkempt hair. The whites of her eyes are
red, as if she hasn’t slept in days. She looks more like a deranged animal than
a woman.

More like a
monster
than a human.

I gape at my reflection in
horror. It’s too reminiscent of—too similar—to the version of me I saw in my
vision.

Does this mean that moment
is creeping closer?

Does this mean there’s
nothing I can do to stop it?

A sudden and blinding
hysteria overwhelms me. In a fit of panic, I turn from the mirror and throw my
body under the water as my fingers begin to claw at my skin. My nails bite into
my flesh, scratching away the dried blood, eager to be rid of it and the
abomination it belongs to. It rushes in streaks down my naked flesh, filling
the base of the shower with red.

I grip at my face as fresh
tears spill down my cheeks. Each one brings with it a more severe rush of
guilt, growing more intense until I can no longer contain them. The pain is too
much.

My legs give out beneath
me. I collapse to the floor, sobbing into my hands.

I’m not sure how long I sit
here, crying in the pool of old blood. The water continues to wash over me, and
yet, it’s never able to cleanse the horrific images from my mind.

All I can see is Rai.

I picture her face, but as
soon as I begin to focus on it, it’s immediately replaced by that ominous
splash of red. I can still hear the gunshot. I can still hear the way it rang
long into the night.

“It’s all my fault,” I
mutter.

It’s all my fault . . .

It feels like days or even
weeks before I step out of the shower. My eyes are red and raw from weeping,
but my tears have run dry now. There’s nothing left within me. Nothing but the
numbness and the empty shell holding it inside of me.

Nothing but the memory of
unimaginable pain.

I peer down at where my clothes
lay in a heap on the wet tiles. I don’t bother to grab them. They’re dirty and
I’m clean, so what’s the point? Leaving them there, I walk out of the room,
lacking the ability to care about my nakedness. There’s no one around to see me
anyway.

My thoughts are foggy and
distant as I walk back to my quarters. Controlled by the desire to escape
reality, I collapse onto the bed and cocoon myself in the sheets. I can barely
breathe through the material covering my face. But I don’t care.

My eyes squeeze shut, keen
to escape into unconsciousness. I can feel the buried emotions working their
way back to the surface, and I know I won’t be able to survive them this time.
I plead with my body, but sleep evades me, leaving me to suffer through the
images in my head.

Fresh tears burn my eyes as
it all hits me once again. I cry, over and over, until the darkness finally
takes me.

I hardly notice it happen,
since the world beyond waking is just as grim. Just as lonely.

The scene of destruction
and despair greets me, welcoming me back to the place where all of this began.
The debris sweeps past my feet where I stand at what feels like the edge of the
world. It might as well be, since the world as we know it is gone.