With a watch on his wrist, no memory of his past, and a puzzle-filled room, Atlas tries desperately to escape the elevators.
Upon waking to darkness, Atlas stumbles into the white room. His desire for answers driving his feet to move. In the firs...
She doesn't like to read incomplete stories and yet she is patiently waiting for the next update! Thank you for read. It means a lot to me. -^^-
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Charging through the woods, the thunderous footsteps of the hoard was exhilarating. Atlas felt powerful. This was the most successful large scale raid they had accomplished since SCUM took over. The PI guards were merely pawns in their puppet show. Nevertheless, they had defeated one sector. A powerful feeling coarse through Atlas' veins. It was a reassuring wave telling him that they could conquer anything and free everyone. They could live in harmony once again, as his grandfather had. Equality was within their grasp.
The cutting underbrush and briars couldn't stop their momentum as they pushed towards the camp. For the first time since stepping out of those barren walls, Atlas turned his attention to Hope. He expected to see a look of triumph, but her furrowed brows drew his eyes to her scowling face. Hope must have sensed him looking at her because she snapped her head up, giving him a forced smile. Atlas eyed her wearily as they pushed forward, but she focused her attention on the dirt in front of her. The bugs were fascinating.
With his eyes still trained on the woman, he ran smack into the fellow in front of him. He wasn't the only one to stop his crusade, though. The entire march was halted with bodies falling over each other. Hope and Atlas shared a look before pushing through the crowd and to the front. Hope slipped through with ease, leaving Atlas to fight through the sweat and stench. Everyone was standing on their tiptoes to get a better look at what was going on.
Atlas finally brushed past the hoard. As he rounded the final person, his knees buckled. They were in front of the camp. Or what had once been the camp. The warehouse was in shambles. Bullet holes littered the thin metal walls, and the thick smell of smoke hung in the air like a deadman's noose. Atlas clenched his fist as he watched people shuffling around with bandages and bloodied bodies. Many were crying and wailing in agony. He should have expected this, but Atlas had been too high on the glory even to fathom this horror.
The army behind Atlas split off to help where they were needed, but Atlas remained motionless. He felt responsible for the suffering of these people. Even though his memory hadn't been fully restored, he was the one who gave that speech. He was the one who led a legion into that deathtrap. He had no idea if any of them even made it out alive with the rest of them. He was the one who had hurt these people.
Atlas shut his eyes and turned his back on the scene. He didn't want to face his actions. The pain he felt was already too much. Withering in his self-loathing, Atlas barely felt Hope's firm grip on his bicep. His eyes fluttered open helplessly to see her panicked face. Her mouth was agape, but no words came out. At first, the man was confused until he realized what had caused her fear.
Will.
The scrawny blonde's face and toothy grin echoed in Atlas's mind. Without a second thought, he was pushing past the people again, only this time with more force. Atlas bounced around the camp with Hope close on his heels. He passed by many wounded with no sign of Will. Running around like a mad mad, Atlas checked several makeshift tents people had set up to provide some privacy to those tending to wounds. He was met with sullen faces, but none that belonged to Will.
His heart grew heavier with every step. The only place he hadn't checked was the warehouse. Making a beeline for the doors, Atlas dashed inside. The doors were no longer stable and were halfway gone, consumed by fire and bullets. Burnt flesh punched his nostrils as he stepped inside to see Colin standing in the middle of the room. He turned his head to face Atlas, who walked towards the man with questions. He was about to start rattling them off when he noticed the large white sheet on the floor. The cloth was dyed red in places, and it was unnaturally lumpy.
Atlas' hands began to shake, and he heard Hope make a strangled sound from behind him.
No. Not again. Not like Andrew.
Atlas couldn't tear his eyes away from the pile on the floor. His throat felt tight as tears slowly spilled down his face. His teeth clenched as Colin started to speak. His voice was monotone and devoid of any emotion as he watched Atlas.
"We found them like this when we returned. No guards in sight. They ambushed them before all of our troops even returned. They must have had a second unit come around the back and... They were still alive. They made sure that they were all alive to suffer. Fucking monsters!" Colin's voice was strained now as he yelled. The veins in his neck were protruding like an angry sore.
What would his father think? What would Andrew think of him? He had fought for them and their memory, but a memory could only take you so far. This was real, and Atlas was terrified. For the first time, he realized the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. If he had listened to Adira that day and left, he wouldn't have been captured, and Hope would still have her memory. He would have prepared better for a counter-attack if only he'd had his memory; if only he hadn't let his anger get him captured. And it's his own damn fault. He killed Will and the other children.
"He tried to protect them. The boy he―" Colin choked on his words, "He tried to shield them from the pain and took it himself." Atlas dropped to his knees. Head in hands, he didn't hold back as sobs racked his body. They shook him to his core as he wrapped his arms around himself for some semblance of comfort. Colin's words were almost distant as Atlas wept. His knees throbbing from his collapse, and yet, the pain was nothing compared to the agony in his heart.
"The last thing he said was thank you." With hiccups, Atlas raised his head to look at Colin through blurry eyes. He swallowed hard as the tears forced their way out. Conlin's eyes were bloodshot as he continued his speech, clearly wanting to relay the information. "He told me to tell you thank you. Thank you for believing in him and that he believes in you too."
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