Broken Apart

Chapter 8

I took in a deep breath and opened my eyes. Around me, rose tall glass and black metal buildings. Their tips scraped the sky. I spun around on my heel, gaping at the world around me. A wall of pure white glass stretched upward. It curved, barely missing the top of the buildings, and forming a dome. The Dome.

I took a step forward where a ladder had appeared on a brick wall. Nothing in the city was brick. I pulled myself onto the rungs, climbing quickly. I began to pant, pushing air in and out of my brittle lungs. It was sundown, becoming dark quickly. I grabbed the rungs harder, climbing faster. The metal was cold against my bare palms.

"Let me help you." Said a familiar voice. I wasn't sure who it was that grabbed me under my arms and yanked me atop the wall. I didn't look at the face, I looked around me first. In every direction, there was a hole in the glass barrier with train tracks lifted upon beams. I stood on a building top.

"Robin." Said the voice again. I turned to the voice. My legs began to tremble. Finnick was standing there, yet it wasn't him. I reached out to touch him, but my hand passed through him as if he were a ghost. I looked down at his body. He wore blue jeans, combat boots and a back shirt.

"What's going on?" I asked, taking a step closer. "Am I dead?" my lip quivered.

"You aren't dead, sis." He grabbed my shoulders. Grabbed them, he didn't pass through me like I did him. "It's a vision."

"A vision?" I gulped, "Of what? What's going on?" the ground began to vibrate.

Finnick grasped my shoulders harder, pulling me closer into a hug. He pressed his mouth to my ear, his breath sliding down my bare neck.

"Listen, Robin. Be careful what you do." He stepped back and ran a hand through his golden hair.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the ground shook violently now, my knees trembling. "This... This doesn't make any sense!" I wailed.

"In time, it all will." He pulled something from the pocket on his jeans. "You'll need this." He thrust his hand out at me. Coiled in his hand is what look like a silver whip. I took it and let it unravel to my feet. It was stiff at the end, forming a handle, and limp and thin at the end.

"A whip? What do you expect...?" I looked up to see Finnick gone. In his place stood a group of five Linemen. I glanced to the whip in my hand, tightening my grip on it. Lowing my frame, I pulled the whip closer to me, in a position where I could strike. The Linemen amongst themselves before lifted their pistols.

"I've been shot enough." I stroke with the whip. It curled around the nearest Linemen's waist and pulled him to the ground. The guy was wailing.

I yanked the whip again and he came skittering to my feet. I shoved my feet underneath his helmet and pried it off. His eyes were lifeless and dull. His waist was red and steaming. What did I do? I crouched and pulled the clothes away from his skin. There was a deep line wrapped around him. It was red, bleeding and steaming. Purple and blue lines curled out from the wound.

A lifeless body lie at my feet; a life I took.

The Linemen clicked their bullets into place. I stood, enraged, with whip in hand. I stroke again, hitting two of them across the stomach. The shook violently before falling dead onto the ground.

"You two want to die today?" I took another step forward. They both shook their heads, turned, and vanished over the other side of the building. I closed my eyes and sobbed quietly to myself, not letting go of the whip.

"Wake up!" a voice echoed in my head. I opened my eyes and looked around frantically.

"Wake up, Robin!"

My eyes shot open. I sat upright, gasping in air that I so desperately needed. I gripped the side of what seemed to be a mattress beneath me. A hand skimmed the ash covered skin of my arm; my gaze sweeping upward to see who it was.

"Ash." I croaked. "What happened?" I was to afraid to look around.

"You're in our temporary camp. Astrid found this mattress while searching for food." He waved his hand at the white plush beneath me.

"How long was I out?" I let my grip loosen on the cloth.

"Two days. We wouldn't leave until you woke up." Ash let his fingers trail up and down my arm as he spoke.

"Thank you." I reached forward and wrapped my arms around him. I let out a sigh and set my chin on his shoulder. "Is my ankle okay?" I asked.

"Almost. You might have a little limp." He pulled the small vile of oil that Finnick had from his pocket. "This stuff does magic." He gave it a little shake.

My breath caught in my throat. "James."

Ash's eyes darkened. "They still have him." he said grimly.

I lifted my gaze from him and to the sky. It was dark with smoke and clouds. The area surrounding us was clear; a concrete gorge. "Did someone clear this area?" I mumbled, pushing a scourged blanket off my lap. The whip and the wound. I was trying to save James. The dream still lingered somewhere deep inside my mind; deep enough that I could reach it and yank it out of me.

"We have to get to the dome." I hissed, pushing myself to my injured feet. I winced, but it didn't hurt much. That oil had done magic on a bullet wound.

"Why? Why The Dome?" I curled my fingers into my palm, my eyes glazed and staring blankly at nothing.

"James is there."