Chapter Eleven: The Queen of Darkness and the Queen of Drama

"Everything about the left is perception, manipulation, and lies. Everything. Everything is 'Wag the Dog.' Everything is a structured deception." --Rush Limbaugh

"Ashler." Only two people call me that. One has a very distinctly feminine voice and the other a recognizably upsetting, throaty growl. Fortunately, the one speaking to me now is well received.

I pull my head up after what feels like hours of sitting curled into a ball, arms hugging my legs to my chest and eyes pressed into my knees. In all the compounds, they have a small, air-tight room with glass walls. They have complete control over the oxygen amount in this room, and thus control how much strength I have. They keep it low. I tried standing several times. I fell. One time, I was frustrated enough that I was able to stand. They had the oxygen so low, I nearly passed out and died. I could feel my heartbeat, I had tunnel vision. Still, I stumbled to the glass. I was eighty percent sure I was going to die. I reached the glass and smashed the fleshy side of my hand into the wall. The second I hit, I fell to the ground. I was unconscious for-- oh, I don’t know-- hours. By the time I woke up, I was three feet shorter and with about a foot less of my hair. I couldn’t move to save my life.

I’m around six and a half feet with hair almost to my shoulders. I don’t know how long they plan on keeping me here or if they plan on releasing me at all. I’ve been silent this whole time. I refuse to bless them with my wit and glorious voice. Anyone who stares at me gets a harsh stare back until they look away.

Kelli stands at the edge of the glass wall. I sit in the middle, putting eight feet of distance between us. I wonder why they felt the need to make this room so big. Probably so I couldn’t prop my back against one wall and kick the other with two feet. Maybe to stop all that energy from getting pent up.

She isn’t wearing her usual gothic attire. She has a uniform on, one unlike the typical military wear. She has a long sleeved shirt of a dark blue and black pants tucked into dark brown combat boots. She has a cute little name tag embroidered into a breast pocket. It reads Capt. Oscuro. I chuckle a little, rolling my head to the side. They don’t want to let me out.

"You did this to yourself." She says.

A small eternity passes between us in still silence. "Yes." I finally admit. "I did. I screwed myself and everyone relying on me over."

"You’ve changed since we last spoke." She walks around my circular room, her eyes locked on me.

"Change isn’t exclusive to humans." I inform her.

"Unfortunately." She snaps, her footsteps increasing in tempo and volume. "They once worshipped you. They now curse your name and spit at you."

"Let them. I don’t regret anything."

"You should. You gave up your position of power. You could have done anything. Manipulated everyone without needing my help." She pauses, most likely for dramatic flair. "I thought you were a good enough con artist to know that."

"I thought you had enough of a memory to know that I never wanted to be a con artist. I wanted to be a hero."

"You are so naive. They say you were born when you woke up. Unlike the rest of us, who had the minds of teenagers, you had the mind of a newborn. And it shows. You’re just as foolishly ambitious as a child."

"If you want to lecture me about how much of an idiot I am, make a presentation with Kayd so I can get it all over with at once."

"I can get you out of here. I just have one condition."

"What’s that?’

"I need you to get rid of that human."

"In case you haven’t noticed, we’re surrounded by them. Which one?"

"The one you’re obsessed with. Maverick Jordan Belovick. You don’t call him that, though. You call him Mav. Born in Montana, his great grandparents are from Russia, he ran away and travels with his three best friends. He’s trying to get to Tijuana and live a carefree life. He doesn’t expect to live past the age of thirty and he doesn’t care. His biggest fears are his parents and abandonment."

"How do you know so much?" I ask.

"You think Mr. C. didn’t have me pick through every bit of his mind? I know absolutely everything about him and I learned a lot about you. I also learned that your infatuation with him is ridiculous. When he dreams of you, he dreams of a girl six inches shorter than him with short hair and blue-green eyes. That’s not the real you. He’s never even seen the real you." She seems like a psychopath. Her eyes are stone cold. "He’d be scared at what he saw. When he was little, he read a book his parents had. They were apart of some cult for a brief time. Saw a picture of a fiery devil. Didn’t sleep for months." She stops walking directly in my field of vision and folds her arms. "He’s also deathly afraid of hell. Fire. Burning. Flames. He’s afraid of everything you are."

I motion to the air around me. "Do you see this?" I ask.

"See what?" She asks, her tone low and drab.

"The s***s I give. Oh, that’s right. There aren’t any."

"You really are a five-year-old."

"With my dirty mouth and mind? Poor kid."

"Listen, Ashler." She presses her hands into the glass and leans in. "I’m willing to get you out of there. You can say your goodbyes to the human. Then you get him out to leave and forget us forever."

"Why do you want him gone?" What, did he call her emo? It’s like she has a personal hatred for Mav. Why?

She’s silent for a moment and straightens up, dropping her hands to her sides in tight fists. "I want you to know you’re not the only strong one here."

"I know I’m not." I think we have different definitions of strong. I doubt Kelli looks to people’s emotional strength.

"Good. Nothe military voice. It doesn’t match her height.

I scoff. "Yeah, nice try, Oscw, as your captain, I order you to tell Mr. Belovic to leave and forget about us." She tries her own version of uro. You can erase people’s memories. You can make him walk away from here. You only want me to do it because it’ll hurt Mav and me."

"That may be so, but I’m your captain now and you have to listen to me."

I actually laugh. "You seriously think I’ll listen to you? That I’ll respect your abysmal authority after ignoring Kayd’s? What’s my punishment if I don’t listen? You need me for the battle. You can’t weaken me further."

"Then do it for me as a friend. Do it in return for your rescue."

I can lie. I can say one thing and do another. That's what everyone around me does.  "Fine. But our goodbyes don't have a time limit."

"Yes, they do. Ten minutes."

"Half an hour."

"Ten minutes. After six hundred seconds, I make him walk out."

"Deal."

Kelli steps back until she disappears into the darkness. I stand up as the doors to my right slide open. The second I step out, I can feel the oxygen increase significantly. I take deep breaths in, and I can feel the oxygen seep into my pores. I’m like a sponge for oxygen, absorbing it all in. I can feel myself expanding, becoming broader and taller.

"What time is it?" I ask Kelli as she walks to my side from behind me. I can hear her heartbeat more clearly with every passing second.

"It’s seventeen hundred twenty-three. If the human wants to join the army, he has seven minutes to sign up." She answers. We walk for the doors, our eyes locked ahead.

"Where is he?"

"Lobby."

"Is Ty awake?"

"Since thirteen hundred."

"Tell him I’ll visit him soon."

"Fine."

We push open the doors, exiting the dark room for the brightly lit hallway. She heads left, I head right. She wasn’t lying to me. I can see him hitting on one of the benches, papers in his left hand as he rubs the back of his head with his right.

"Maverick!" I yell over the marching of soldiers. His head pries up immediately, and his grim expression lightens. His hands drop to his lap.

"Hey, Amber. Where’ve you been all day?" He asks.

"I got in trouble again." I tell him, crouching in front of him to be at his height. "Listen to me. I have to be serious." I’m going to miss those bright green eyes. "You can’t join the army. You can’t work for Kayd he’ll punish you to get back at me. This isn’t a war you want to be apart of."

He smiles softly. "I wasn’t planning on joining. Don’t worry." I sigh and look at the clock over the main desks.

"I only have ten minutes to say goodbye. I need to make this count."

"What do you still need to say?" He asks, leaning closer to me.

I chuckle, and I wish I could take his hand. I’m too tall, too strong, too hot. The cloth does nothing for me now. "Nothing I haven’t said before. I just want those to be my last words to you."

"Well, hold on. You finish your mission, and we can meet up in Tijuana. I can wait." He says. He is one of the few people I feel I can trust.

"It shouldn’t take much longer. I just have one more city, then I’m out of the fight."

"You won’t fight in the war?" He sounds proud.

"I can’t. Not after what I’ve seen. I’m not participating in any war." I am sure.

"Atta girl! There’s the fire I’m crazy for." There is more happiness and pride in his voice than Mr. C. has ever offered me.

"Was that a pun or a coincidence?" I ask.

He chortles. "Bad pun."

I give him a kurt laugh for his honesty. "I’m going to miss you. You and all the nomads. You’re the only humans who haven’t lied to me."

"You think you don’t mean just as much to us? We’ve always been outsiders. No one gives us any thought. You’re the first person to actually give a rat’s a*s about us."

"A rat’s a*s?" I break down in hysterics.

He starts laughing at my uncontrollable fit of insanity. "What?"

"That’s just so random! Out of all the things to say!"

"I’m just making sure you’ll remember me."

My laughter dies, and I would sell Ty to be human for just a few moments. "You think I wouldn’t?"

His eyes droop a little, his wide grin turning to a slight, uneven smile. "I hope not." He’s quiet and gentle, two things I’ve never been.

"What happens when you leave? Do you know where the nomads are?" I ask.

"The bald guy with the clipboard tracked them down. They’re on their way."

"I have to say goodbye. I don’t care if I get in more trouble. I’m leaving here soon, anyways."

"We should just tear the place up." He has light stubble around his jawline, only able to be seen from a certain angle. If there’s anyone near us, I hadn’t noticed. Everything is in this moment. "You could probably burn it down."

"Burn it, break it, wreck it, you name it."

"If we were in Alabama, we couldn’t flick boogers into the wind to ruin it."

I laugh curtly but embarrassingly loudly. I don’t really care about what the people around me think. Mav’s used to my weirdness by now. That’s one of the reasons he’s so… unbelievable. "Seriously, Alabama? Out of all the laws to make, and they felt the prevention of boogers flying through the wind was the most important?"

"The hick states have the weirdest laws." He says, and I could legitimately stare at his crooked, toothy grin for an hour. "Like in Louisiana, you could be a perfect bank teller."

"Really? You’d trust me around all that paper?" I only now realize how low and quiet my voice has dropped.

"It’s illegal to shoot bank tellers with water guns." His voice is no lower than usual, and it’s fine by me. "After robbing them."

"Yeah, don’t shoot them with a water pistol, that’s bad. Shoot them with a real gun." I say sarcastically. "Where do I sign up?"

He chortles, leaning his back for a little while. It’s like he wants me to stare at his neck. Stop. Dirty thoughts. "Careful. Making false promises is also illegal."

"I don’t know what I expected from states that ban same-sex marriage."

"Don’t get me started. In Texas, homosexual behavior is considered misdemeanor."

"That can’t be their weirdest law."

"Oh, it’s not. Texas hates girl… pleasure toys."

I start laughing, and I fall back onto the ground when I try and fail to hold my hands over my stomach. Even then, the laughter is uncontrollable. I can’t breathe, and my hair is draped across my neck and in my mouth and over my face and I don’t care. "The things you say!" I blurt through my hysterics. "How you say them!" He waits for me to calm down, giving me time to pull my hair away from my face and open my eyes. He’s just smiling, his eyes barely open.

"I’d offer you my hand," He starts smiling, "But it’s illegal to respond to flirting by using hands or eyes in Texas."

"They’d rather you respond with your butt or b***s or something?" I ask, picking myself up and propping against the adjacent wall on the right. I slide down into a wall sit to get on his level.

"Not Mississippi. It’s illegal for men to be aroused in public."

"How do you remember all of these facts?"

"Oh, like you don’t know random facts? What’s the official language of Antarctica?" It’s adorable how hard he’s trying to stump me.

"There isn’t one. Many countries have claims on Antarctica." I can taste my cockiness. I raise and eyebrow and smirk at him.

"What countries?"

"Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New Zealand, Norway and the United Kingdom."

"See? You know remember weird facts, too."

"Yeah, except I’m the roided up version of a human. The list of unfair advantages I have is insanely long."

He crosses his arms across his chest. "What’s unfair is that I can’t use my lasso to catch a fish in Tennessee."

I start laughing again. "How the hell are you supposed to catch a fish now?"

He begins to laugh with me. "I don’t know!" His grin is wide, his tone is light, his eyes are alive. There’s a gleam in the bright green that screams vitality. In the most cliched, stereotypical, mid-western accent, he says, "How am I s’pposed to feed my family?" He sticks his bottom jaw out, and I feel bad for finding it as hilarious as I do.

I mimick his expression Ty calls derp and copy his accent. "Use the gun, Cletis!"

"Good thinkin’, Bessie! Outlawed my lasso, can’t outlaw my gun!"

I’m lightheaded from laughing my lungs out. I start thrusting my head back and forth, shaking my limp hands because for whatever reason, I have to. I smash my head against the wall, eyes shut beyond tightly. Mav and I are at that point in hysteria where we shake silently, mouths wide and faces red. I can die from asphyxiation. If I do, I want to laugh to die from laughter. There’s something extremely poetic about dying from being overflowed with happiness and being so elated it hurts.

I don’t know how long we laugh. It takes a while for us to reach the stage after the laughter ends, and we’re both catching our breath with the occasional chuckle. "It’s official. Tennessee is the best state." I declare.

"They consider every living thing a ‘dumb animal.’ Everyone could call you a dumb animal, and they’d be correct." He informs me very matter-of-factly.

"No way." I snap back. "Animals are defined as organisms with eukaryotic cells and need to digest food. I’m not an animal."

He start laughing in a far more mild version of the last outburst. "I love how you protest being an animal and not being dumb."

"I have proof I’m not an animal. You can’t measure intelligence. Not accurately, at least."

"That’s deep. Almost as deep as the thoughts that inspired this law from Tennessee: throwing bottles at a tree is illegal."

"Tennessee: the state with the weirdest laws."

"Nah, that would be Utah. I’m not even getting started on that state. You’d have been arrested about, oh I don’t know, twenty times?"

"To be fair, I could be arrested in any state for some horrible crimes."

"Hey, the states are messed up. That’s why I’m bailing."

"Ashler." An voice breaks through the bubble keeping Mav and myself away from the world. Kelli stands, her face stern. "It’s time."

That can’t be right. I look at the clock. Seventeen hundred thirty-four. Ten minutes are already over.

Mav can figure out what this means and begins to stand. I hold my hand out to keep him from leaving. "We’re waiting for his ride to come." I tell her.

"The three tattooed teens in the truck? They’re already here." She says.

I sigh and stand. Mav follows. "I’ll escort him outside." I announce. Kelli steps aside, and the walk is the shortest I’ve ever taken. Before I even think of what I want my last words to be, we’re at the fence. The guard leans out.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

"I’m escorting him off the premises." I tell her.

She opens the gate, we walk along the dirt road to the truck. Dawson and Ardo are sitting in the front. Dawson’s smiling, her hat pulled up to show her brilliant blue eyes and hair behind her ears. I smile for her. Then there’s the loud one. K.B., who was sitting in the back, comes racing out. Her arms are out wide, her hips swish back and forth. "Hons!" She shouts, her voice shaking the compound.

She hugs Mav and reaches for me. I flinch away, and she understands. She wraps her arms around Mav, and I can’t tell you how badly I envy her. Mav hugs her back. "How are you, K.B.?" He asks.

"I was so scared!" She yells into his chest, tears starting to blur her eyes. "I thought you’d died!"

"I’m not going anywhere." He says delicately, like a nurturing older brother. He tightens his grip and squeezes her shoulders. She clutches his shirt. I’m overwhelmed by all the touching they use to show affection. Is this normal for humans? If it is, I have another reason to like humanity.

They part, and K.B. wipes her eyes. "Hey, hon." She tells me. "You change a lot, you know that?"

"I noticed." I tell her, making sure my tone is spritely and amiable. I have to keep my resting face from kicking in.

"You used to be shorter than me, hon." She says.

"I used to be more bald than you." I admit.

She snorts tear-induced snot back into her nose and puts her hand over her heart. "I feel like you’re my baby, going off to college, hon! Just… look at you! All grown and fully clothed!"

I snicker and respond, "None of you are much for clothing."

"Why would I hide my hot body, hon?" She asks, running her left hand from her collarbone to her thighs. Mav smiles and rolls his eyes. She notices. "Oh, don’t act like you wouldn’t hit this."

"You’re like my sister. I wouldn’t. That’s disgusting." He says.

"Whatever, hon." She says.

The car doors open and slam closed. Dawson and Ardo reveal themselves. "Keep your distance." Dawson instructs Ardo playfully. "You keep your mouth away until we get more gum."

"Ardo’s breath is rank without his gum, hon." K.B. attempts to whisper to me and instead practically alerts the entire world.

"Thanks, K.B." Ardo says. His voice is beyond low. It resonates throughout the Pacific coast.

"Anytime, hon!" She hollers back.

"We’ll have to get it before we cross the border. We don’t have any pesos." Dawson says. The two complete our little group. One that readily accepted me and will have to readily let me go.

"You guys could be in Mexico by tonight." I tell them.

"The Los Angeles traffic is supposed to suck, so we’ll probably reach the border at midnight." Dawson says. "But hey. It can’t be worse than the traffic in the city after the bridge collapsed." She looks at me when she calls it the city. I feel so proud for conforming an outsider. I have passed Californian initiation.

"How long have you guys been on the road?" I ask.

"Over a week now. We need to be at Armando’s house by noon tomorrow or we’re homeless." Ardo says.

"We have plenty of time." Dawson says. "Even with traffic."

Los Angeles traffic. I hope there’s none of that tomorrow. If Ty’s awake, we’ll likely leave within twenty-four hours. My nomads will be out of danger by then. No need for them to avoid the biggest city in the state.

"Wrap it up." The guard barks at us through the megaphone.

"Ignore that. We can take as much time as we want." I say, waving away the guard.

"I don’t want to have to say goodbye. We just got to know you well, hon!" K.B. hoots.

"I’ve never said goodbye before. I just kind of left." I warn.

"Doesn’t that sound familiar?" Dawson asks. "We’re runaways. We don’t have experience in goodbyes."

"Wrap it up or Captain Oscuro ends it for you." The guard threatens.

The sudden reality drops on my chest. "Okay, now we have to listen. Let’s head to the truck. That could buy us more time." I suggest.

We head to the car, and I’m looking at them between a metal wall. The windows are rolled down, Mav and Dawson are closest to me. "Don’t forget how strong you are. They can’t make you do anything or turn you into anyone you don’t want." Mav says. He leans with his torso out of the window, and I can hear K.B. complaining about having the rear end of skinny jeans in her face. "If they try to change you, refuse. Everything about you is incredible the way it is."

My cheeks burn. He’s not the first to say it, but he’s the first to mean it. The first to say it with the intention of sucking up to me or inflating my ego. That makes it especially poignant, because this boy who brings about so many firsts in me is now dealing with lasts. Last words. Last sight. Last touch. Last moments.

"In California," I speak slowly. "The golden state, sunshine is guaranteed to the masses." He smiles. "I’ve lived in California my whole life, yet I’ve been in the dark." I thought humans were a waste of time and I was the sole reason God put them on the earth. Humans were more or less the same, with just a few distinguishable traits. I thought everyone different was doomed to loneliness, and that I was never going to be accepted for everything I am. "You brought sides of my life to the light, and I am eternally grateful. In a poetic way, I’m the west coast and you’re the sun."

"Did you just rewrite Shakespeare?" He asks.

"What, is there a law against that?" I ask.

"Probably is in Tennessee." He answers. The sun has less than two hours before slipping behind the horizon, streaking the sky orange and pink. The sun is to his back, and the rays surround him. I want to remember this. This moment right here.

"Next time we see each other, get a lasso. Let’s go fishing." I suggest.

"Is that a date? Because it’s illegal for women to ask men on dates in Tennessee," He says.

"Just shut up and say yes." I tell him, a bittersweet smirk etched into my face.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You did." I lean closer, getting as close as I possibly can. "And you chose to stay in Santa Cruz with me."

His expression is something I’ve never seen before. He looks so touched, so heartfelt. His eyebrows curve upward towards each other, his mouth hangs slightly open. There’s a gleam in his eyes from the reflection off mine. He smiles at me another time.

"Captain Oscuro is on her way." The guard ruins our moment with her stupid megaphone.

"I’m guessing that’s her kicking us out." He says.

"Yeah. We don’t want Oscuro coming and ending this." I say. I quickly steal a glance over my shoulder for less than half of a second. Kelli’s exiting the building. I whip my head around. "I’ll find you in Tijuana as soon as I can."

"Stay safe, you mutant freak." He wipes his mouth with his wrist.

"Don’t die from a car crash or something, you weak human." I can hear Kelli approaching. I don’t want to stop talking. I don’t want him to go away. I don’t want any of them to leave. "There’s no one like you."

In a quick, unforeseen change of events, he closes the space between us. He leans forward, and just for the smallest fraction of a second, presses his lips to my forehead. He pulls away before my skin can sizzle. I stand, my mind silent. He has this big goofy smile. Did he just… what did he… that’s why he wiped his mouth… I don’t know how to react. I never thought I’d be kissed. Never. My heart is pounding like I should be dying and I’m not, because I’ve never been more alive and more awake and more full of either adrenaline or hormones. "I had to do that. I had to." He says.

"Ashler." Kelli hisses.

Mav retracts into the car. "Bye." He utters that short word so tenderly and faintly. It rips into my head and melts forever into my memory.

"Bye." I softly echo, unable to do anything else.

K.B. leans to the side of Mav and into my field of vision. "Bye, hon!" She bellows, throwing her arms around like a maniac.

"Goodbye." Dawson says, shaking her left hand and nothing else.

"Later." Ardo says.

Mav smiles at me one more time, and the truck starts up. We hold eyes as the truck drives away. Then he leans out the window. Neither of us move until the truck is out of sight, and all that’s left is a dirt cloud.

Once he’s gone, it’s like he’s been gone forever. Like the time we had wasn’t as long as I felt it was. Kelli reenters the compound, and I stand in the same spot for a decent twenty minutes, no desire to leave.

It isn’t until the guard starts yelling at me that I’m able to move again.

I walk slowly back into the compound. I keep looking over my shoulder, because for some reason, my neck keeps twisting and I keep anticipating loud, loving voices to accept me as the misfit I am.

But no one is there. They are gone, and I cannot accept that.

I can accept that we are only parting for a brief amount of time. It could be within a week that I am back with my nomads. If Ty is well, we could be out of here before noon tomorrow.

I have to see Ty! My best friend, my partner in crime, I have to bless his evening with my ever-treasured presence.

"Hey! There she is!" Andrew announces as I enter the hospital. The cots have been pushed aside and replaced with chairs. Kelli and Cody have theirs pressed against each other’s, fingers entwined as she rests her head on his shoulder. He whispers to her, and I don’t care to listen. Andrew sits next to the only hospital bed left.

Ty lies down at a forty-five degree angle, an IV going into the back of his left hand. He has bandages on his arms and butterfly patches over his eyebrow and lip. The was once horrible swelling, now late in recovery. He has popped blood vessels in his arms that are slowly healing. His eyes are bloodshot, he looks weak. He doesn’t have the posture he normally does, his hair sticks to his head from sweat. There are staples going horizontally across his chest and a brace around his neck. He’s been healing for hours, and he’s only made this much progress? That’s unusual. At least he’s not on life support.

"Hey, Ty." I say bombastically, standing next to him. He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows.

In a raspy voice that frightens me to hear coming from Ty, the words are put into the air, "I hear you’ve gotten in more trouble than I have."

He’s going to be okay.

"I have." I admit.

"What’d you do? Tell me everything." He croaks. Does he need water or something?

"I yelled at Mr. C., and then I yelled at Kayd. I yelled at Mr. C. a lot, and I destroyed some stuff." I give him the basic overview of what’s gone done in his period of unconsciousness.

"Really?" Andrew asks.

"You did?" Cody questions.

"You stood up to Mr. C.?" Ty asks, more shocked than sick.

"Why does everyone find that so hard to believe?" I ask, scanning my team for expressions.

"You’re a goody-goody. A people pleaser. You follow whatever rules they put in front of you if it means they like you and make you captain." Kelli declares as if she’s recited it in front of the mirror thousands of times.

"You’re a martinet." Cody clarifies.

"Am not." I protest.

"Amber, you are." Andrew says. "There’s nothing wrong with that."

"Well, you all act like there is." I say.

"With us, there is." Ty interjects. "To be honest, we’d make fun of you for being so obedient."

"You would not!" I insist, bolting straight onto my fight. They all stare back at me. Yes, they would. "When?"

"During mealtimes." Ty says explicitly. There aren’t filters with this kid.

"It wasn’t mean-spirited." Andrew assures me.

"Sure. Whatever." I pout, leaning against the wall with my hands folded across my chest. There’s this horrible awkward silence, and I have to be the one to break it. Kelli may officially be the captain, but not in spirit. Not really. "Why were you guys in Santa Cruz? That battle was intense."

"We thought you had died after Sacramento. After San Francisco, it was obvious you were alive. We were sent in as reinforcements for Santa Cruz." Kelli says.

"What about D.C.?" I ask.

"The Feds have it covered." Andrew says.

"Good, because I’m going to need all the help I can get in Los Angeles." I say.

"She’s rebellious and humble? I like whoever replaced Ashler." Kelli remarks to Cody. I roll my eyes. She’s usually more clever.

"This group is no joke. Los Angeles is going to be impossibly larger than Santa Cruz. We stop them here and we win, mission accomplished. We lose, and we’re in serious trouble. This is the biggest and strongest aspect of the group. They have nuclear missiles ready to be launched. I know how to prevent them from going off. We’re going to need a plan, and a couple dozen contingency plans."

"A couple dozen?" Andrew asks.

"That seems extensive." Cody adds.

"‘Too safe’ doesn’t exist. They’re unpredictable. They like to keep people on their toes and try to ruin whatever plans they had. That’s their advantage: their plan is to eliminate ours. Left disorganized and panicked, they have the upperhand and clearer thought." I explain.

"What do you know?" Cody asks.

"They hate me. Like seriously, they probably burn voodoo dolls of me every night. I bet they have an anti-shrine for me. They’ll target me. They aren’t afraid to destroy buildings and kill people. They will take hostages and use them against you. Their goal is to eradicate everything. You, the city, the people. They won’t have any mercy At all.

"They’ll attack in waves. They start small and get larger, so you’re tired and weak by the time you really need to fight. Conserve your energy. Be practical. I made the mistake of being excessive, and I paid the price." Okay, it wasn’t the most awful thing in the universe. I got to meet the nomads. However, I’m not going to highlight almost dying and losing the battle. Los Angeles is the biggest and more important one yet.

"Is that why you were short, bald and blue-eyed?" Ty asks.

I nod. "The more power I use, the more human I become. All of us get tired, all of us can be overworked. Try to show off or something and you’re screwed." Yeah, you and the millions of people either living in or visiting Los Angeles. "They attack on all fronts. Cody, you should be able to cover water. Andrew and Kelli, you got ground. Protect the people. Ty and I’ll take the skies. We help each other out if we can. You finish your front, help someone else. Work together. We need all the help we can get."

"You’re humble now?" Ty asks.

"Okay, did you guys legitimately hate me before?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest. I’ve never really been insulted. Kelli has called me an idiot and other obscenities, but that’s her standard greeting. Ty and I insult each other all the time, and we never mean it.

"We didn’t hate you." Andrew insists.

"You were just so easy to make fun of." Ty clarifies.

"Oh." I say. "That makes it much better." Could I get more sarcastic? Of course I could. I always could.

"Yeah, you’re still annoying." Ty says.

I lean closer to Ty to get in his face and at least appear somewhat intimidating. "Do you want more staples in your chest?" I threaten.

"And whose fault is that?" He asks, sitting up. "I got hurt saving your a*s."

"I didn’t need you. I would have been fine." I counter.

"Yeah, right! You were about to die, Blondie!" He snaps back, getting closer to my face.

"I don’t do the whole ‘dying’ thing."

"Then why’d you just let the wave come at you?"

“Oh, I don’t know. Not because I was in too much pain to move. I just like to make things as dramatic as possible. God knows I’m a slight thespian.”

"Slight? You are the queen of drama!"

"They’re back." Andrew says to Kelli and Cody.

"I missed you, you stupid gambler." I say to Ty.

"I didn’t miss you." He says in the most serious voice possible.

If he didn’t have a neck brace, I would wrap my elbow around his neck and give him the worst noogie ever recorded.  "I hate you." I tell him.

"You smell." He replies.

"You’re ugly." I respond.

"Everyone’s right." Kelli says.

"Hey, Amber." Andrew interjects. "Tell us about your mission."

"You want to hear my elite tour of California and spiritual journey?" I ask. They nod, and I begin with Mr. C. telling me of the mission. I tell them all the details except those involving the nomads and the strange attraction to Redwood City. I finish, and they’re silent. "Eventful days for me. What about you guys?"

"Cody gave Kelli a hickie!" Ty blurts out.

"He did not!" She shrieks.

"Yes, he did." Andrew says.

"I win the bet." I tell Ty and Andrew.

"We were instructed to monitor the perimeter of the white house and report any suspicious characters." Cody says.

"We met the president, and I bet Ty he wouldn’t take his shirt off." Andrew tells me.

"So of course he did." I say.

"Of course." Andrew confirms.

"The president was like, ‘Boy, put your clothes back on. You are a professional. Act like one.’" Ty says.

"You didn’t listen, did you?" I ask.

Ty cackles. "Why would I? There are enough old men telling me what to do."

"His ‘I’m not listening but you can’t tell’ face was on point." Andrew says.

"Andrew was slaying in D.C." Ty adds.

They tell me stories of their wacky times in D.C., and although they explain their inside jokes, I’m not fully apart of them. Our team has always been together. Now it feels as if I have been cut out and merely stitched back on, an unnecessary appendage that needs the organism, not the other way around.

They have not changed. They are the same. I am the one who has changed. And I will never fit back into my group of misfits like I used to. Things will never align they way they once did again.

I convince myself it’s for the better and try to get over it. My attempt is not wholehearted.

We talk for hours. Ty is going to be discharged at oh-nine hundred tomorrow. Everyone is instructed to get some rest, and I retire to the familiar sight of a training room.

As I leave, however, Kelli first heads in my direction. I need to speak with her. I check over my shoulders to make sure that yes, Cody and Andrew have gone upstairs.

"Have you told anyone?" I ask. She’s smart enough to know what I’m talking about.

"No." She plainly answers.

"Why not?" I ask. Secrets about emotions are, for some reason, the best ones. Kelli once told Andrew I had a crush on him. I don’t know if I believe that she stayed quiet.

"You’ve been significantly kinder to Cody. I’d like for you to keep that up." She states. Everything about her reasoning irks me.

"I’m not just some dog you can train." I snap.

She flashes her trademark, devilish smile. "Oh, yes you are. You’re my nation’s attack guard dog. Nothing more."

I can’t argue with her. That is my sole purpose. The only reason I was created. "Maybe I am," I admit, "But I’ve accomplished more than you ever will."

Her smile deepens as if someone carved it into her cheeks with a knife. "You really think so, Ashler? I’m going to have the highest body count. I’m going to be the war hero."

"That’s not what makes a hero."

"Is that so?" She’s like a leopard, the way she hisses and snarls and purrs. "Look at World War Two. The nation who lost the most soldiers was the Soviet Union. The nation with the least casualties? America. Who do we consider the ultimate winners of that war?" I can’t think of a response to that. "The selfless country gets no praise for the sacrifices they made. Because we define heroes as killers. That’s just how my country is."

"You’re wrong."

"We’ll see who rules the world after the war, Ashler. You’ll be deemed a coward."

"Why would I be a coward?"

"Because you’re abandoning the battle." She speaks as if I asked her if it was the B.C. or A.D.

"How did you know?"

"When you elope with Belovick in Tijuana, tell him that I rather enjoyed picking his mind apart." She turns and walks away from me, towards the cafeteria. I glare at her, staring at the shorter, black-haired beast until she’s out of view. Much like with Mav, except I want to run after her and punch her, not kiss her.

No, I decide. She gets enough action.

I hurry to the training room.

How many hours have I spent in places like this? Listening to them tell me to be faster, stronger and more powerful. Never once did they tell me of conversation, practicality or safety. I am a girl made to be a weapon, and I never realized that they were weaponizing me.

I spend my night going sprints from one side of the room to the next. For brief moments at a time, I’m back at the compound in Tahoe. I’m running as fast as I possibly can, and as far as I know, I’m indestructible. There’s something alluring about that feeling. Knowing that I was absolutely vital. Now, I am disposable.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret the choices and realizations I’ve made. I just regret that I hadn’t made them sooner.

Because in this short life of mine, speed is everything. Speed of recovery. Speed of thought. Speed of attack. Speed of sound. Speed of light. Speed of choices. My life has and likely always will be, measured in speed. Not my number of kills or losses. No, that’s how most people measure life. To the majority, life is also measured in speed: how quickly you die.

I don’t know what time it is. I’m doing my aerobics when Mr. C. bursts through the doors. "Miss Ashler." He says, out of breath and sweating. His clothes are loose, wrinkled and stained under the pits. There are dark bags under his eyes, he props his hand against the doorframe.

I continue my jumping jacks. "Go away." I snap. I avert my eyes.

"Miss Ashler." His tone is stern and unfamiliar. I look back to him. His eyebrows are tilted up towards each other, his mouth open and eyes wide. His chest is heaving, his heart is pounding.

Something horrible has happened.

I stop my jumping jacks and run towards him. He takes off, and we rush to the conference room upstairs. Neither of us say anything. I throw the doors open, and several highly ranked militants stare at me. All of them are concerned. All of them are tired. Kayd stands at the front, fingers pressed into his temples.

"What’s going on?" I ask.

"Take a seat everyone." Kayd instructs. They all obey him, taking seating around the table. Kayd looks at me. He doesn’t glare. "You, too." His voice isn’t hateful and cruel. What has happened? What on earth could be so terrible that Kayd is being this… calm? This humane and considerate? Whatever it is, it’s severely awful. I try to brace myself.

"I’ll stand." I insist.

The types something into the laptop wired to the projector. "You’re going to want to sit." He tells me. I don’t want to fight with him right now. I don’t think he has any energy, anyways. I sit down next to Mr. C. and a woman I’ve seen walking around this compound. The lights turn off, the video begins.

It’s pitch black, what looks like a flashlight brightens the face of the man standing in front of the camera. "We have an emergency." His voice is shakey, he’s out of breath. The man only has on a jacket, odd for this time of night. He must be somewhere warm. Perhaps somewhere in the South? No, his accent suggests the south west.  "I’m standing near the Mexican-American border." The camera pans to the right, showing the large fence and many military personnel. There are too many cars. There are too many search lights. There are too many soldiers. This must be morbid. "Minutes ago, at twenty-four hundred hours and eighteen minutes, four young adults were killed for trying to cross." Some people in the room gasp. Others start murmuring to each other. The camera pans back to the man and my heart starts racing. This better not be what it sounds like. Please, God, no. "They had just crossed into Mexican territory, where they were gunned down where they sat inside their truck." It cuts to a shot of the truck, blood splatters on the windows. There are bullet holes in the windshield, cracking the shield like lightning. I start shaking. My stomach lurches. My lungs tighten. "Unbeknownst to the four, Mexico and America had just imposed a treaty. They agreed that travel between the two would be prohibited with the war coming up." I pray to God. Do anything to me. But please, don’t let this be what I think it is.

"Please, please, please." I whisper each word over and over again without a break in between. "Please, God." I break the pattern and close my eyes. I press my palms together, thumb pressing against my nose.

"The Mexican military has returned the bodies to us. They have been identified as the following." I stop breathing. Everything, absolutely everything is silent. I stop my pleading to listen. It’s in God’s hands. I don’t open my eyes. If they show the bodies, nomads or not, I don’t want to see. Someone somewhere is about to feel incredible amounts of pain, and I’m selfish for praying that it’s not me. I don’t care. Please don’t make me the one to endure the agony of loss. Please, please, God.

"All American citizens with their whole lives ahead of them: Ricardo Allino, Melissa Dawson, Katherine-Brenda Winst and Maverick Belovick."