CHAPTER SIXTY THREE ( the moon and the sun and the stars )
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OCT 30, 2149 DAY FORTY EIGHT ON THE GROUND
DAKOTA COULDN'T STOP RUNNING.
Her feet were pounding furiously against the floors, racing down endless corridors and multiple sets of stairs to find Fox; following the wretched sounds of the young girl's cries. Adrenaline fueled her every step, ears privy to each and every hint of emotion enhancing her screams. Her aching lungs begged her to stop, tight chest doing the same— she didn't. Eventually, and by some miraculous, divine force, she was able to reach them before horror ensued.
The two guards were still yanking Fox unforgivingly along, not an ounce of guilt or regret on their faces— only anger. In their eyes, the 46 were heartless murderers now; whatever twinge of sympathy they had felt for killing them in the first place had vanished. The girl was still fighting back with everything in her, driving her heels into the ground to try and stay put; her sneakers squeaking against the floor as she kept inevitably losing her footing.
They had sequestered her into a room different than the harvest chamber Dakota had been trapped in all those days, must've having put more space to use since then. It was still the same dark, chilling atmosphere, though. She listened to Fox's terror-stricken whimpers and sporadic breathing increase when her eyes fell to the two stretchers against the wall; Dakota would be lying if she said it didn't cause her to falter too. It was Jessica and the blonde boy they had taken earlier; the bloodied, broken shells of who they used to be, at least. They were dead.
"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!" the Thompson girl bellowed, her hands— still painted a bright shade of red— forming trembling fists by her side.
Only when they turned around, unthreatened by her insufficient command, did she realize she had no plan to fight against them; her eyes widening. In the wake of Fox's abduction and in the heat of having to physically harm Miller to go after her, Dakota had left her machete behind; now entirely defenseless. It was her own damn fault, she knew. She had gotten too distracted by the 15 year old's shrieks. All logic and cleverness had crumbled away.
"That's the one who killed Thorpe." one of the men maliciously growled, beginning to advance towards her; the other keeping his grip around Fox's upper arm. "Come on, let's get her in a cage. We'll make her watch."
But the Bennet girl decided she'd had enough, and with a loud yell, shoved the guard by her side into a row of cages with all her might; slipping swiftly past the second and latching onto Dakota's hand. With the enemy hot on their heels, the two girls spun to dash out of the room; a third guard appearing at the threshold with a handgun already aimed at them. They came to an abrupt halt when they met the muzzle of his weapon, Fox's hands flying into the air in surrender, still hyperventilating as Dakota pushed her to the side and raised her bloody fists; ready to put up a fight she knew would quickly end with a bullet in her skull.
