The In Between

Chapter 39

Justin

There is only one small table lamp in my tiny hut in the High Security Zone. I stare at the cone of dim light it casts on the bed, little more than a shadow, really. An imitation of light.

I don't know how long I've been in here. I try to count the patrols of the Enforcers outside, seeing if there's a predictable pattern. Coach always told us to get inside the other team's head, figure out their game plan and then search for the holes in their strategy. But my mind is foggy, no thought sticks. I don't know what I would do anyway—there are bars on the window, chain locks on the door, cameras inside watching my every move. I stare at my ankle, looking for the tracking chip, but they have embedded it more deeply this time. I run the pad of my index finger over my ankle, my shin, but the skin is smooth. I know the chip is in there, but I can't see or feel it.

Every hour seems to take a week. In a place without tangible reminders of time, I've never been more conscious of it. 

But I know time is running out. 

I alternate between despair and hope: Malthus will return with a plan to reunite me and Tara. He will find a way. I have to believe in him. It is my best, my only, hope. 

I try to imagine what Malthus's plan might be. I list the few facts I know over and over in my head—trying to imprint them in my brain so I can't forget.  I try and make them realign in a way more favorable than what I can see just now.

 I can't go back to the living. Malthus said he'd bring Tara to me in Heaven. 

But the only way I can see that happening is if Tara dies. And I don't want that.

I get up and pace the small circumference of the hut; four strides in each direction before I hit a wall and have to turn, four paces back.

What if Malthus has been captured? Or changed his mind? He's an agent of Hell. Maybe he won't even keep his word. 

Four strides forward, four paces back. 

Damaris seems to have deserted me. I can't persuade her that Malthus really loves her; I can't get her to help me if she's nowhere to be found.

In the meantime, I have to convince Zerachiel that I've accepted my Mission. I try to write Tara a letter, I try to go to her in her dreams, but the words, the images, don't come. My thoughts hit an impenetrable wall every time. Everything is jumbled up inside my head.

I throw the stone pillow on the floor in frustration. It lands with a dull thud.

I pace.

Lie still.

Wait.

Pace.

Lie still.

Wait.

I hear the murmur of voices in the far distance, then nothing.

Total silence. 

I slam my fist into the wall. My knuckles turn red and raw but I can't feel them. Even pain would be welcome at this point. To feel something. To have something to focus on. I watch as the redness fades instantly before my eyes.

I lie back down.

Malthus is coming back, he will help me and Tara, I repeat to myself over and over. 

Somewhere deep in the night, I hear the three locks outside my hut clang open. I bolt up in anticipation, squinting in the dimness. But it's not Malthus—it's Damaris.