The Cipher

Chapter twelve

  Zulu helped me up and we exited the small shack. Turns out, the so-called doctor’s office was the hub of the Slum Sector, which made a lot of sense, actually. In such a large community of poor, bedraggled people, the doctor should be in the center.

  But these thoughts were merely distracting me from the depression that was eating away at my insides like the inexorability of a black hole. The mere idea of my brother enduring Dream Land was infuriating in itself. Dream Land is a pill that once consumed, causes its taker to go into a dream-like state, meeting only their worst fears. One cannot wake up from Dream Land unless they realize that they are not in reality, and as it turns out, the task is harder than it sounds. Dream Land is so utterly vivid, everything feels real. Every tear, every scream, every blood drop that stains the carpet beneath your feet. So much so, that when- or if- you wake up, your nightmares will never let you forget the experience. I sometimes find myself waking up in the middle of the night, shaking; sweating; crying. I would never wish that upon any other human being. Especially my brother.

  Aside from the horrors of Dream Land, there were electrocutions, isolation, horrid plagues, and much more.

  I would die before I saw one more person endure what Cyrus and I had.

  I looked to Zulu, who by then, looked as if she had never shed a tear to begin with. Her eyes were no longer puffy, the bags had disappeared, and the long lashes that ringed her sea-green eyes were no longer clumped together.

  “Well, I’m sorry to say this so soon after your recovery, but we have to get a meeting together. We don’t have much time, Aspen. We have to make a plan in the next day or so if we have even the slightest hope of rescuing Shields. And even after that, we have to be prepared for war. After that, there is no denying the rebellion, and HQ will take immediate action.”

  I nodded. If there was anything I could do, it was this. Cyrus and I, we were the most skilled at public stunts such as these. Zulu and the rest of the rebellion’s expertise lie in the categories of disguise, sneaking, and sleuthing. 

  I sighed. “Alright. Do you have any sort of plan at all?”

  Zulu shrugged. 

  “We all have our own ideas, we just need to put them together, and make them into something worthwhile.”

  I cracked my knuckles.

  “Okay, summon the council.” I said half-heartedly.