Year 12 (First Draft)

-Chapter 16-

  I'm walking through the crowd of people, the old man's gun poised and ready. Kane is calling out to me, yelling out to me. Andrea is sobbing beside me, blood trickling down her neck, onto her black suit. I hear the gun go off, and suddenly Charlie is there again, his body collapsing in front of me. I cry out, falling beside him. Suddenly his body is gone, and I am just there sitting in hot blood. I see my mom and dad to my left, their arms around Paul. I watch as the old man turns to them, the gun aimed. Bullets fly toward my parents, but it's Paul that falls to the ground, his glasses shattering into a million pieces. Kane yells out to me again, and I look up, rain starting to pour down from the sky. Water drips onto my face, clings to my hair. I no longer know if the droplets on my face are from the rain or my own eyes. "Felisha," Kane's voice sounds like it's right beside my ear, "don't you dare fail me. After all I've done for you, you need to succeed."

  I wake up, my eyes welling with tears. I know all I saw was just a dream, but it felt so real. I can still feel the cold of the rain, the stickiness of the blood. Kane's words were not his own, yet they feel just as powerful as if he had actually uttered them. My heart is pounding, and my hands are shaking. I sob into the pillow, hoping it will muffle the sound. I don't want or need anyone to come in here. That's not what I need.

  I lean over the edge of the bed, running my index finger over Amelia's forehead. She is still asleep despite my crying, her world still spinning, not tilting, not falling apart. I'm so thankful that she is so young, so blissfully oblivious. My only hope is that I can keep it that way for her forever. She doesn't deserve the burden on her mother's death weighing heavily in her mind. She doesn't deserve the pain of losing any of us who are now bringing her up, raising her. I hope that if only for her sake, that I make it out of this alive. I don't want to leave her.

  "Try this one," Paul hands me another UCP, and I slip it behind my ear, noting the different feel of this one compared to the very first UCP I ever wore. This one is even thinner and much more invisible to the naked eye. Paul never fails to impress me.

  I step in front of the mirror and study my reflection. I definitely look like a Government Agent, that much is undeniable, but there are some details that are fuzzy, unrealistic. I look at my right arm where my Government Agent Bunker Number should be. It's a very small detail that only those who wear the uniform would really know about, except for me. I have taken a lot of time to look into the uniform. I know it like I know the back of my hand. "This is the wrong font," I say, pointing to the number on my arm, "it's not blocky enough."

  Paul bites his lip, upset that I have found yet another flaw in his design. We have spent the past three hours tweaking the creation he spent all last night working on, and so far we have come across four mistakes; things that Paul overlooked.

  "Am I overthinking this?" I ask, turning away, feeling like maybe I have overstepped my bounds in some way. I know nothing about tech. Maybe I'm being too harsh.

  Paul smiles, leaning back against his workbench, his arms crossed over his chest. "Felisha, you aren't overthinking. I really think that it's smart to be so picky. This is a major mission, and we can't afford to make any mistakes. Kane would be the same way. You're doing just fine."

  I realize just how visible my discomfort is in that moment. I feel so wrong making the plans, and being in charge of putting them into motion. That was always Kane's job, and here I am, an impostor, working tirelessly to prove myself and get Kane back home. I feel as though the Year Movement has lost all momentum, all of our time and energy turned toward Kane. No real progress has been made without him here.