C0NV3RG3 (Sequel to M3RG3)

Chapter 20

For one second, everyone was frozen, eyes wide on the crater that had burnt through the wall. Another boom resonated on the other side, and the house rumbled under the impact. Screams filled the air, heavy smog obscuring my vision.

My hands frantically shoved away dozens of sweaty bodies, ignoring the powder like grime that drizzled on us, sprinkling icing on a cake. Another bang. The metal frame creaked and groaned under cracked cement. A barely perceptible fissure began growing from the roof, zigzagging down the wall.

"Faster, faster!" I yelled. Another bang.

"How did they track us?" Karen hollered, shoving her way past other Revolutionaries.

"We'll figure that out later!" The fissure zig-zagged its way from the roof to the base. The metal frame shuddered, then with another bang, it snapped.

Dirt, debris and grime pelted upon us. Another bang. The cracked cement had finally broken free of its iron cage. Slabs dropped from the air, raining on us mercilessly. The screams quietened, replaced by something stickier, and crimson.

"Keep going! Don't stop!" Oliver commanded, shoving us forward.

There were no more bangs. Instead, a rhythmic thud, the opposite of our chaotic stampede, grew increasingly louder. The Security was coming.

"We can hold them off," I muttered, my mind stitching together incoherent and hastily made up ideas. The result was a jumbled and shapeless mess. "The cement can block them off-"

"I'll hold them off," My mother declared. In her hand was a leather briefcase of weapons and tools. "Don't come looking for me if I don't make it."

"Mum," I whispered furiously. "You can't do this. I can hold them off. I can use a gun and-"

"And what? Shoot them?" She shook her head. "It's my fault. If it's anything, I'm the one that has to make this right."

The debris had mostly crumbled away, and the ink black sky cast shadows over the remnants of the house. Under the moon's radiant glow, my mother's eyes were startling green. Her lips formed three simple words: I love you. Then, she rushed towards the battlefield, briefcase in hand.

"Come on, we need to go," Karen whispered. A murky smoke formed in the horizon, followed by a series of flashing lights. Slowly, I took a step back, my foot nudging something warm. Something that was red.

A large slab of cement had crushed his upper body, and blood pooled out like runny lava. His skin, which had always been translucent, was now ghostly white.

"Caelan," I whispered. "We need to get him out."

"No. We need to keep moving," Karen murmured, gently tugging me away from him.

"No!" My ravaged hands gripped the slab of cement, the stones digging into my palms. "Help me here! Please!"

"Arista, he's dead," Karen spoke gently. "But we will be dead too if we don't move."

More lives gone. Because of me. "He's not!" Maybe I was delirious. So much blood. "He's still alive! I can feel it!"

He's not. Lyla whispered. People can't survive after losing that much blood, especially someone like him.

"No, he is!" I cried. "He has to be!"

"Arista!" Oliver snapped. "Look at me. I know that Caelan was your friend, but he would have wanted you to stop mourning for him and move along with your life."

The harshness of his tone made me flinch, and Oliver's eyes widened when he caught my expression. "I'm sorry, but we should-"

I took one more glance at the halo of blood, the ghostly radiance of his skin, and forced my limbs to move forward, swallowing my emotions like a bitter pill. "Yeah, we should," I replied.

The Affluent house, once pristine and extravagant, was now splattered with crimson, and crumbled to ashes of nothingness. The Republic could easily cover up this scam, and they would blame it on us, that we were the ones causing all these deaths. It was a vicious cycle, the Revolution, the Democratic Socialist Party, the Merging Process, and now, this.

A scream, all too familiar, interrupted my train of thought. My eyes snapped up to the struggling figure among the fog. Then, I was sprinting, my shoes slamming against gravel.

"Mum!" I screamed. Among the Republicans, I felt useless. All our efforts, our numbers, easily wiped out by them. Here she was, fighting against dozens of them, pulling up one trick after the other: tranquilizer darts, tasers, bombs. They weren't enough. The number of Security would always outnumber us. Always.

"Leave!" She yelled, struggling against five Republicans that were trying to pin her down. "Run!"

"But-" Blood bloomed from my mother's stomach. A knife protruded from it, glinting silver.

"I love you," She mouthed, her eyes brighter than the glow of the moon. Her smile was gentle but pained. "Go."

I turned my back, so I wouldn't see the glimmer in my mother's eyes dim, so I wouldn't see the halo of blood encircling her barren body. The ground sagged under my feet, and I stumbled through twigs and branches, kicking up barren leaves as I ran from the Affluent house to the locomotive station.

I was a survivor. I would keep running, no matter how painful, no matter how excruciating, no matter how agonizing everything was.

The remnants of my heart scattered along the gentle night breeze, settling onto the ashy, broken rubble that was once the home of a Revolutionary.

A/N: If it isn't obvious, this is a major story-beat ;)

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Next update: 24/5