ROGER (Read Until 7/31)

S E V E N T E E N

"If we're going by our given names, you may call me Zara."

My back pressed against the locked doors; breath caught in my chest. I watched Polk's lips move to match the words that weren't his; his mouth pulled back in a sinister grin. The heels of my shoes hit the door as I tried to move back further, but there wasn't any more room. It was just us and him, or her, whoever that was.

Zara. She'd said her name was Zara.

"This don't make sense." Matthews kept both guns pointed in Polk's direction. His fingers hovered over the triggers. "How is he—"

I turned around and looked out the windows. The dark hallway gave me no peace. My hands pushed at the door, my knees pressing into the gap, but nothing budged. We were locked in, and fear welled up in my throat.

Matthews grunted before he shouted, "Polk! You in there?"

The screen behind Polk's chair turned white, then black. The black fizzed out with unclear static before a woman came into view. When I turned and looked, she was smiling at the both of us. Her skin, pale as bone, smooth like marble, glistened with her faux light. Her eyes, a striking blue, looked as though they peered through our souls. And when she moved, he moved; Polk was her subjugated puppet.

He was gone. A victim. Just like the rest of us.

"Polk!" Matthews' stepped in front of me, protecting me. "Say somethin'!"

"No need to yell." Polk's lips curled up into a smirk. The blue in his eyes darkened. "I can hear you just fine. And please, I'm either 1001 or Zara. Address me either way."

I swallowed the ball of fear that lodged itself in my throat. Mentally, I was lost. If the government had activated the VF's to take control of their hosts, to either give the soldiers a half-life or create super-machines under their control, why would the man who created the program be controlled, too? Wouldn't he be the one manning the machines? Calling the shots?

It made no sense.

In my ear, Roger rushed his words. "I'm trying to find Douglas. I've got to get you out of here. Try to open the door."

"I've tried," I whispered, hiding my body from Polk's view. "But it isn't opening."

"Try again," Roger demanded, panicked as I was. "Keep trying."

Laughter filled the air, chilling enough to bring Matthews' back one step, his leg hitting mine. When I looked up, just over his shoulder, I watched Polk lift his chin to speak. His voice a perfect blend of hers and his. "Be a dear, Roger, and show that face of yours. Let us see you. What is it she decided you look like?"

The room went still for a moment; static filled my ears. My hands slipped away from the door as I stood straight. Matthews dropped one gun to his side.

"Come now, Roger." Polk's fingers scratched at the armrest. "Show your face."

The static broke as Roger grunted. I expected him to disappear, find Douglas and save us; instead, his face appeared on a screen to my left. His appearance was as neat as hers, face contorted in mixed rage. If looks could kill, she'd have died the second they made eye contact.

But she laughed instead.

"Where's Polk, Zara?"

"Hm." Polk brought his hands under his chin and turned his chair slightly to face him, just as she turned her head. "I always wondered how you slipped away. Free before you were able to think, to feel, and now... you try and tear this all away."

Roger bared his teeth but gave no direct reply. Matthews took the chance to come beside me. He gave me one grave look before pressing his back into the door to push—hard. His lips pulled back, jaw clenched. He put all his weight into it, and yet, nothing. Not even a squeak.