The Escape ~ Gally TMR

Chapter Seventeen

Shai's POV:

We'd been walking through the sandy ruins for about an hour now, taking in the atmosphere of a land that had once prospered with civilization. Chris was walking with Lilli, a few paces behind us. It was easy to see that he had taken to her as a sort of sisterly figure in his oh-so jumbled life. I didn't blame him, Lilli was a rock, when no one else could be. I thought more about our conversation earlier with the mysterious young woman imprisoned back at WICKED's headquarters, and the things she had said. She seemed so clear in her head, I didn't see how she could do it. Then again, I didn't know how Lilli stayed so clear in her head, especially with everything that was going on. I honestly wished I could tell her that Gally was alive. I so wanted to tell her that he was out here somewhere looking for her; that he'd be just over the next sand dune. But the truth was, I couldn't tell her any of that. And that terrified me. It terrified me, because Lilli was the rock out of the two of us. She had been since we were kids, though I can't actually remember how we met. Another hole in our memories, I suppose. But that was beside the point. The point was- Lilli was strong, so that the rest of didn't have to be. But lately, it feels like the thing that's kept her going has been the hope, however slim it may be, that Gally was out there somewhere. And as much as I wanted those hopes of hers to be confirmed- it terrified me that if he did die, and she found out, it would break her. I sighed, continuing to ponder as I attempted to kick a pebble, only burying it further into the sand. God I hate sand.

"So what's your deal?" A voice beside me echoed casually. I turned to see Jona walking along side me, though I don't remember falling into step beside him. I didn't give him a reaction, I just faced forward, pulling at the straps of my backpack for no apparent reason other than temporary distraction from how tired my legs were, and how much my eyes ached from squinting to avoid collecting sand in my corneas.

"I don't know what exactly you're referring to, but I don't feel like it's any of your damn business either way." I murmured stoically. He didn't seem phased by this comment.

"I mean, how did you get into the grasp of WICKED. Are you immune or something?" I glanced at him warily, raising an eyebrow.

"How much do you know about WICKED?" I pried. He must have some level of clearance to be allowed out on high-tech berg's collecting data from Cranks- which meant he also had a certain clearance level on information. He rolled his eyes.

"More than you'd guess. I've worked at WICKED most of my life."

"So, your parents turned, you were immune, and WICKED 'saved' you, right?" It was a fairly reasonable guess. It's how most young people get involved with WICKED to begin with. They enlist all the Munies when they're just kids, and they grow up not knowing anything different.

"No, actually."

"What then?" I persisted. He looked down to meet my dark eyes, pursing his lips as he said with complete sincerity.

"I volunteered." My mouth hung open in shock.

"I'm sorry, what? Y-you...you volunteered? Why the hell would you do that? Don't you see that what they're doing is wrong?" Jona just rolled his eyes as though he'd heard the argument a thousand times before. He probably has.

"You don't get it. None of you Munies do. Not everyone's safe from this virus, you know. Most people aren't. And look, I know WICKED's done some messed up shit, ok? Trust me, I know. But god, you don't know what it's like to wake up every day, terrified that you might start to acquire symptoms. That it might be your last day as a sane, rational human being. That you'll turn into the thing you've devoted your life to hunting, and testing. It's not an easy life, and it's not an easy job. But at the point I was old enough to get what was happening in the world, WICKED was desperate for kids like me. They gave me a roof over my head, food, warm clothes, and a reliable job. And it's a fucked up job, ok? It's not like I don't know that. But if doing my job means that there's even a slim chance at finding a cure...then I'm gonna fucking do my job, ok?" I was silent, which was a strange feeling for me, seeing as I almost always had some sort of clever quip to retort. Of course he knew it was wrong...but it was different for him. Desperation makes situations different. I should've thought of that before opening my big mouth.