Gods Under The Dome

23.2

《Now or Never》

¤

Marava stumbles backward as a thwack echoes throughout the room. Tears stream from her eyes, the flesh of her cheek already beginning to redden. Still, she holds onto all her venom and hatred.

Masters' breaths come in heated huffs, his hand held behind him, in case the urge for a second strike struck his fancy.

"You stupid fucking bitch."

I make for Mars and grab at Quint who looks as though he'll kill the next thing to get in his way. "He's got a gun."

"He--" Quint balls his hands. "He--"

"I know."

Blood trickles out from a cut along Marava's cheek. Without thinking, I tear the god awful shirt Della'd forced me to wear. "Here," I say, holding out the piece of cheap cloth. Marava eyes it then me, then it again. Offering my hand, and her looking at it as though questioning my sanity or it's cleanliness, makes the situation a thousand times worse. I wave the fabric in her face. "I owe you one," I say, remembering the day when Della had served up her idea of freedom, one she'd achieved after having buried hundreds of innocent people alive. "For the time you--"

She takes the cloth and runs it along her cheek. "I remember. Thanks, Ten."

I nod. "Sure."

Masters stamps his boots into the floor and yanks me toward him. "Let's go. I've had enough of your bullshit."

As I'm marched toward the set of double doors, I turn toward the man. "How much favor you think slapping a girl is going to curry with your higher ups?"

"Shut up."

"No," I continue, even as a nurse emerges from the doors, a shiny metal tray carried in her arms. An array of medical instruments, that look like high-tech torture devices, gleam under the light. "Seriously. How many girls would you have to beat to earn yourself a promotion? I'm guessing no fewer than ten, but considering she'd been a Liar, she probably accounted for two or three--"

Masters stops short of the nurse, his hand back and raised. Poised to strike, like the coward he was. "There's really no limit to your shittiness." I rip myself free of his grasp and move toward the nurse. "With that kind of 'can do' attitude, you'd make a great Councilor. Though," I let my gaze drift down his body, before refocusing on his face. "Your temperament is awful. And you'd have to be a lot smarter to be such a high-level bastard." I shrug. "Guess you should just stick to the black fatigues and ass-sucking."

Masters tenses. His fingers go rigid around his gun. His lips peel back into a snarl. "I'll see you in the van." He has to force each word into the world because he's gritting his teeth to the point where I'm surprised they aren't dust yet.

I nod. "I can't wait." Reflexively, my hand closes around the pills. There hadn't been one yet that Nol didn't understand. If one of these suckers could keep me going for hours, a handful had to counter whatever sedative they had here, right?

Guess there was only one way to find out. As the double doors of the operating room peel back, a stalky man in a gauzy white gown and mask, laser scapel in hand, nods at the seat in the center. Shackles dangle from both armrests while two similar chains jut from the floor. Masters smiles.

The doctor nods. "Take a seat."

¤

The ground rumbles beneath me, as something releases a soft moan into the air. The sound is dry, mechanical. There's voices floating in and out, but I can't make out the words. The last thing I remember was the syringe being inserted into my arm, and a surge of what felt like liquid fire. Then, before I could give voice to my agony, the world had gone black and now--