subject 13 // h.s. au

chapter ten.

I was getting really fucking tired of his dramatic exits. I didn't fully understand the connotation behind his words, but his arrogant tone made my blood boil. He was utterly infuriating, yet I felt a small twinge of sadness at the fact that I would never see him again.

 I quickly rationalized that it was only due to the fact that he was a mysterious stranger. 

And he has pretty green eyes, my brain added sheepishly.

I turned my head to look at 12, trying to dispel my unwarranted thoughts.

"So, when are you leaving," he wondered, immediately cognizant of the fact that I wasn't going to listen to a single word Harry said.

I steeled myself for a moment, before speaking to him for the first time,

"As soon as you show me how to get the hell out of here," I stated, and he frowned.

I could tell he was upset, but he also knew that this was the least he could do after what he had put me through.

He nodded, his lips still pulled downwards.

"It's not very safe," he cautioned, "Harry said Asher's been surveilling the place."

He then cleared his throat loudly, "Um, that's what he was, uh," he paused, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right word, "talking  to you about."

Visibly uncomfortable, his body repositioned on the bed and he proceeded to ignore my puzzled expression,

"Let's go to my room," he suggested quickly, "I can draw out where the exits are here."

All my still unanswered questions suddenly bubbled to the surface.

"Where am I?" I blurted out, unable to stop myself.

"Shit, sorry, I forgot that you don't really know anything about the surface," he replied, with a guilty expression, as he continued.

"This is Alpha Zero, or AO," he said, pronouncing AO as 'ay-o', "there's a couple other bunkers scattered around the U.S.; Beta, Omega, and so on."

I nodded, and his eyes flooded with pity.

He sighed, "The Doctors either lied or didn't know, 13, but there was a warning before 'Judgement Day' from the government and people got to the bunkers before it hit. They call it 'The Last Day' here."

He cringed as he finished speaking, and I looked at him in shock.

"How many are alive?" I barely squeaked out.

"Somewhere between five hundred to six hundred," he mumbled, "and there's 93 people here."

He shot me a look,

"Well, 94 now."

The Doctors had said there would be no survivors, except if any of the thirteen of us could withstand the radiation. Zero survivors on the surface. I felt a tidal wave of frustration and hurt crash over me. 

Why did they lie? 

I turned my head away from 12 slightly, trying to hide the heartbreak written all over my face.

He sighed again, deeper this time,

"I know you still want to leave," he stated, "but you need to understand that the protocol isn't important anymore."

I felt lightheaded, my breath leaving my body. Of course, I knew the second he said there were over 500 people still alive that the protocol didn't matter, but hearing him say it so definitively, ripped away the last bit of my denial.