Unplugged: The Hidden World (#2, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Fifteen

Matthew

I wake suddenly with a jolt, as though someone had run an electric shock through the mattress. Everything around me seems to communicate the same dismal message: something is wrong. I feel it deep within my chest, like a weight I can't seem to shake off. Breathing hard, I reach out and feel around for the comforter. Nothing. It must have fallen on the floor.

Grunting, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. Morning sunlight sneaks in through the cracks of wood that shelter my window. A foggy account of last night's events swims into recollection. I remember how Enna tried to persuade me to join her in Gale's trip to the base. Instantly, that heavy feeling strengthens ten-fold; it takes impossible courage for me to leave the bedroom. Once I do, I see what I had already expected and dreaded: Enna's bed, empty. She could be in the bathroom, I tell myself. But no; I would have heard the door open or close.

Fear grips me and my throat tightens painfully. I sit on the edge of her bed and place my head in my hands. How could I have been so stupid? How did I never see this coming? My eyes start to grow damp and I wipe them angrily: angry at Enna, angry at myself, angry at my father, angry at the world... Didn't I warn her--didn't I warn her that this was a bad idea? I know that I could have persuaded her to stay, if only... I feel my arms start to tremble with grief.

"Matthew?" I look up, hopeful, but it's just Alice. She rubs her eyes and surveys the scene in front of her curiously, no doubt searching for her daughter. "Where's Enna?" I shake my head, unable to speak.

"Where's Enna?" She repeats, her voice as hard as steel. Ariel begins to wake up. Grief and guilt throb through me, burning like acid.

"She left."

"Left? What do you mean left?"

"Is there any other meaning?" I stand and cross to the window. It faces the front of the hotel, looking out over the parking lot. Sounds drift up to me from the ground, and suddenly I get an idea.

"What happened?" Alice clutches my shoulder and yanks me around so I have to face her. I hurriedly recall our late night conversation. When I finish, Alice's face turns bright red and she glares at me. "And you let her leave? Alone?"

"Of course I didn't let her! She slipped out when we were sleeping!"

"You didn't try to convince her of staying?"

"What do you think I did last night?" Even as I say it, guilt begins to fill up my lungs until it hurts to breathe. Ariel breaks up our quarrel.

"If Enna's gone then we have to find her." Feeling guilty for raising my voice, I force myself to breathe deeply, walking over to the window.

"Ariel's right," Alice admits, her voice still tense. "We must do something. I believe we have been left no choice."

After opening the blinds, I survey the wood that covers the window on the outside. There must be a way to see to the ground without bringing attention to myself.

"What are you doing?" Alice steps up behind me, arms folded across her chest.

"I think they might be down below. If only the windows weren't barred..."

"Who's 'they'?"

"The Workers."

"You think she's with them?"

"That sounded like her plan." She begins to drum her fingernails against her arm.

"If I ever see that Gale woman again, I will kill her."

"Don't make claims like that," I warn. "Gale might actually keep her... safe." I can't bring myself to say 'alive', as if there's any other option. I have to believe that Enna is able to take care of herself.

"Well... Why don't we open the window and cut peep-holes into the wood with a knife?" I pause to find any loopholes in her suggestion, but I can't seem to find any.

"Alright. Get me a knife, quickly." She nods and runs off to the kitchen. Just as I turn around and pull up the window, I feel a weight on my lower body. I turn around to see Ariel, hugging me.

"Enna's going to be okay, right?" She whispers fearfully, releasing me. I stare into her bright eyes, and suddenly I feel a lump in my throat. I squeeze her shoulder and force myself to nod. Then I turn back towards the window. Freezing cold air slaps my face, making it burn.

"You got the knife, Alice?"

"Right here." She hands me the tool, and I stick it into one of the wooden slats. It takes longer than normal to carve a hole: ever since leaving the Depot, I haven't had any time to work on staying in shape. By the time I finish, the muscles in my arms burn with aggravation.

"Can you see anything?" Ariel asks anxiously, trying to stand on her tiptoes. I brush the over-grown hair off of my forehead and place an eye just in front of the whole. I've never won the award for best eyesight before, and I have a feeling that I never will, but that doesn't keep me from noticing something below us. In the darkness, I can barely make out the silhouette of several jeeps accompanied by many black-clad Workers. Between the mass of people, I see two limp figures being dragged along roughly, their hands tied behind their backs. My heart begins to drum against my sternum.

"There. I see her. And Gale."

"What? Where?" Alice shoves me out of the way and searches through the hole desperately. "I can't see anything!"

"They're being dragged off. I think they're unconscious..." Alice and I stare at each other in a knowing way. I feel like I might throw up.

"That's okay," she mutters, denial present in every syllable. "We'll come up with a plan to save them. We'll do it tomorrow."

I almost have the urge to articulate the futility of a rescue mission, but I can't bring myself to do so. If I did, it would be equivalent to admitting that Enna is dead.

* * *

That night I lay alone in bed, our plan running through my mind. Though part of me wishes I could find some sort of loophole in it, I know that it is the best we could come up with: as John Elliot's son, I will pretend to be taking Alice and Ariel prisoner to the base. I will request help from the Workers, and they will let us in. As simple as that. It's almost funny how the thing I hate most--my relationship with my father--is our only chance for rescue. I laugh mirthlessly into the pillow, then it grows to a full chuckle, then a manic outburst.

Anything.

Anything but crying.