Lifeless Gain Life [APOCALYPSE]

5. trust me or die

     "You idiot! You had the opportunity to leave and you didn't!" Ezra's voice echoes harshly throughout the room, but I just lay motionless. Blinking, my gaze remains on the stone ceiling. I feel weaker than usual, and it's probably because I haven't had food or water in such a long time. Ezra keeps shouting, but his words seem meaningless.

     "Ezra," I croak, my voice hoarse, and my eyes still tired. It's either really late at night or really early in the morning, I can't quite tell. My head tilts sideways so I can see through the bars over to his cell. He keeps yapping on until I repeat his name, this time using more energy.

     "What?" he says sharply, looking furious with me. "What could you possibly say to make the situation any better?" Why is he so upset? Wouldn't he have wanted me to come back for him?

     "I have-"

     "I don't think you understand the opportunity you just ruined-"

     "I have a knife." This shuts him up for a solid ten seconds. The sound of pure silence is music to my ears.

     "What are you talking about?"

     I slip my hand down into my boot, pulling out the small blade, and closing the handle in my hand. It's cool and when I shut my eyes, I feel as if I'm back in the woods with Meridian. Survival was hard, but it was better than whatever this is.

     "You can break the lock...?" he points out more in question form, and I nod slowly, forcing myself up. My shoulder needed to be bandaged again days ago, but I quickly shake the thought away. If picking the lock doesn't work, hacking at it might. It'll take forever, but something tells me I've got the time.

     I rise, but it almost takes all my energy, and I feel as if I will black out any second. He seems to catch on to this, and reaches his hands through a gap between two bars. "You know, I'm pretty good at picking locks," he says, hoping that this will get me to sit back down and rest.

     "It's okay." I tell him, "I'm fine."

     "If by fine you mean exhausted, covered in sweat, and probably sick with something that's killing you: then I agree, you're fine," he remarks. "I'll get us out of here," he reaches even further, and with hesitation, I'm able to pass the weapon to him. He nods, examining it for a second, and then gets to work. "How'd you manage to get this?"

     "The armory," I admit.

     "Wow. A thief and a Killer, how fun." I shoot him a look, and there's a ghost of a smile on his face, "I know, I know." At least Waverly and him both know the truth. His eyes narrow on the lock in concentration, and then he kicks at the bars in frustration. "No worries," he comforts, when I give him a look, "It's just harder than I thought, that's all. You know, if you get some rest, it'll be done sooner than you think."

     "If anything, I've gotten too much rest. I've been knocked out so many times lately, I don't even want to know how big the bump on my head is," I respond, finger-brushing my gold locks. He's right about me being sick though. I feel extremely weak, and sweat when I feel cold. It doesn't make any sense, but death doesn't seem as bad as it used to. The only things keeping me going are finding Meridian and Alaska, and getting Ezra out of here.

     I'm curious of his backstory. I'd like to know why his own people put him down here, but then again: I'd rather him tell me willingly, then me forcing answers from him. Besides, I wouldn't want him asking about my past either. Growing up with seven siblings didn't bring that much luck to my family, especially my parents.

     I was the middle child. My mother and father, Lilian and Ryen Ambrose had always wanted a big family, and they sure did get one. First, there were my older siblings: Logan, Leo, and Lili. Logan had been going to college, post-apocaplyse, for a year, and Leo was just starting. Lili was a Junior, but she was held back in the second grade. Then, there were my younger siblings: Luccas, Lacey, and Lena. Yep, the 'L' names, so cute.