Chapter Twelve: Secrets of the Beloved

“It is absolutely okay with me if you need to keep some secrets...I decided that a best friend is someone who, when they don't understand, they still understand.” -Nancy Werlin

My eyes shut tightly, and a squeak breaks out of my throat. It grows to a low whimper, and hold my hands over my mouth. My shoulders start spastically jerking upward, my bottom lip trembles. I can’t control it. I start hyperventilating, except I’m only breathing in. When I finally do exhale, it comes out as a quiet wail. My hands move to cover my entire face, and wails get louder. The hyperventilating gets sharper and stronger and I inhale so deeply that I lean back whenever I do. I hang my neck back and try to breathe, and there’s something caught in my throat that tries to rip out of my neck. This struggle becomes so violent that I nearly slam my head forward onto the table. I give up and drop my skull, pulling my hands out. I wrap my hands around the back of my head. This sobbing, this vicious, gnarly sobbing, grows. It grows because my nomads are dead because they killed Ardo because they shot Dawson because they murdered K.B. because they stole Mav’s life. My chest hurts, and it’s not like the exhaustion. This feels like my world is ending. This feels like I am ending. This feels like falling into a black abyss with your back to the ground, so you don’t see where you’re going. You just see where you’ve been.

My sobbing becomes hysterical. The wails become screams. I am unable to contain myself. I am beyond sanity, beyond sadness, and yet I shed no tears. I don’t actually cry because I am not a human being. I am not human, yet I feel everything that they do. Maybe more intensely than humans. I can’t imagine it getting any worse than this.

The idea that K.B.’s loud, joyful soul is gone tears at me. Dawson, who was finally happy in her miserable life, will never get to experience it. Ardo has never done anything harmful, and was eliminated like he had murdered dozens. Maverick. My Maverick. He was willing to care for someone as horrible and wretched as me. He was willing to put up with my stupid comments and he accepted my differences. He changed my life and I never thanked him and I never told him that I don’t know what love is I only know it takes a long time, but I’ve begun to love you. I’ve begun to love you and I wanted to reach the point where I loved you, and I could say it and you’d say it back and for once in my life, I would be loved for something over than being a mutant freak.

I start calling their names out, barely audible through the sound. I drown myself in a blonde waterfall that just drowns me in dreadful sunshine. I am not alright because they are dead. They are gone. They are gone forever and we will never meet up in Mexico. We will never live together as normal people would, we will never have another conversation, we will never have just one more laugh. Just one more minute, just one more smile. At the end of their journey, they were murdered. They were murdered and they’re gone and they’re never coming back. I will never see them again. I will never hear them again. I will never again have the privilege of being with them.

I can’t breathe, I can’t hear and I can’t see. My eyes are shut tight, my mouth is twisted and my face is mangled into this ugly expression and I hate it all. I hate that it hurts so bad. I hate that I can’t do anything. I hate that all I can do is cry, and the crying doesn’t make me feel any better. I hate that I can’t be there with them. I hate that I don’t get to thank them for all they’ve done for me. I can never thank them for helping me, making me a better person. I can never repay them. I am forever in their debt. I will die in their debt.

I am bawling in front of these people. I need to be alone. I abruptly stand and sprint for the window. I’m on the roof before any of them can leave the room.

I fall to my knees, then onto my back. I face the stars above, I try to get air back in my lungs, and I scream. I scream their names, I scream no, I scream. I cry. I wail. I’m broken. I’m barely breathing. I’m drowning and I’m dying.

I press the palms of my trembling hands to my eyes. Their faces are there. I imagine them, limp on the ground, bullet through their head, and I break into a new fit of bawling. "I’m sorry!" I scream. "I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you!" I get cut off by my sobbing halfway through and can’t finish.

I have never cried before. No one has ever cried around me. I have never been heartbroken. I have never had to deal with emotional anguish. I was never prepared for any sense of this.

I see Mav, smiling, his left arm holding onto the nape of his neck. His tattoos, one of which that reads, "I’m alive, what else do you want?"

I didn’t think it could get worse. But it does. My crying continues to grow in volume and in the shrieking. Mav is not alive. He will never tell me another state law again. K.B. will never call me hon or give me one of her "tricks" again. Dawson will never see the beauty in life again. Ardo will never again chew his gum.

I am alive and they are dead. It’s not fair. After all I’ve gone through, they take one bullet and die. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I can survive what they can’t. It’s not fair that they die from a single piece of metal. It’s not fair that humans are so violent it’s not fair that they kill their own kind it’s not fair it’s not fair to me.

It’s a long night, where time seems to be stuck in a loop. I sob my eyes out for what I suppose it like an hour, then just lie in soul-crushing silence until the sun pierces the night, but fails to rid me of the darkness.

Ty is discharged at his scheduled time with only scars remaining. The drive to Bakersfield is expected to be around two hours. My team is assembled and herded into the back of a military truck. I sit on the right of Ty, who sits next to Andrew. Kelli sits on Cody’s left, across from Ty. It’s just the five of us in the back. This is never a good idea.

The plan is for us to get to the compound in Los Angeles. We’ll stay there as the troops set up and prepare for the battle. They’re sending spies in to locate the enemy’s location. We’ll be on call the whole time. The second they pick up on any activity, we’re racing into battle, ready to kill.

I can’t imagine having to fight right now. I just don’t have the will or strength to run and fly and punch and try. I just want to sit in lonely silence. I prop my head against my palms, elbows pressed into my thighs. I look at the ground and try not to think about the nomads. I try not to imagine the bullet holes in their brains and death putting them through rigor mortis and its monstrous transformation to corpses. I try to imagine them, instead, sitting at the beach, barefeet tucked under the sand. Sunshine hits their faces and Dawson pulls her fedora down to cover her light eyes. Not because she’s hiding from the world. Because she doesn’t want to get burnt by the intense light. Mav puts both hands behind his head, he’s alive and no one could ask anymore of him. Ardo doesn’t need to wear shoes or even a shirt. No one will question him. K.B. can be as loud as she is, and nothing bad will happen to her.

"Amber?" Andrew’s voice snaps me out of my haze. I pull my head up, and everyone’s staring at me. The only sound is the truck racing along the highway. "Are you okay?"

I attempt to stealthily take a deep breath. "Yeah." I lie. "Fine." I refocus my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to talk right now.

My heavy, overbearing silence keeps the mood dark and low. Andrew and Ty attempt to start conversation and fail. Perhaps to them, the trip is unbelievably long. To me, it is curt. In comparison to last night, a marathon is brief. We arrive solemnly in Los Angeles

The compound is much larger. It takes up nearly an entire block. There’s a large chain linked fence with large cement checkpoints every twenty yards or so. They have a huge display of tanks, trucks and other death machines.

Kelli enters first. Cody follows, then Andrew, then Ty, and I lamely trudge behind. My eyes rest on the heels of Ty’s shoes. I can’t pick them up. Any faces I see will be morphed not into the nomads. Into the corpses of the nomads, gray and waxy skinned, hairless, stiff, eyes sunken into the skull.

My team is assigned a single room to share. There are four beds, two on each side of the wall. They argue over who gets to sit where, and I perch beside the narrow window. I watch troops jog around the perimeter and more vehicles enter. What I would do to see a rickety old truck drive through the gates, half of the nomads in the back. The blade of darkness is still lodged firmly in my gut. It spreads into the surrounding areas of my body, and everything is numb. My thoughts, my senses, all of it.

I’m barely breathing. I can’t hear or feel my heart beating. There is no way to tell that I’m alive at all. If I were to lose my balance even the slightest bit, I would tumble over and fall right onto the ground. Like there’s no life in me.

I wish I could will myself back to when I last was staring out the window of a compound. I was almost fifteen, Ty and I had set up a trip wire to drop ten pounds of ketchup and mayonnaise on Cody. Kelli ran over to yell at us, Andrew tried to break up the roast. Mrs. M. felt the need to intervene, and being the annoying/sassy youngsters we were, we decided to piss her off more. She turned us into Mr. C., who got us all in trouble. That wasn’t new. What was: Mr. C. told me to avoid Ty. He called Ty "a bad influence" and forbid us from hanging out. I retreated into my room for a while, and imagined what it would be like to go outside. Where we weren’t restricted and trapped. Of course, Mr. C.’s rule was short-lived.

What I wouldn’t give to go back then and fix my life. No one would have had to die the way they did.

I feel a hand press onto my left shoulder. I know it’s Ty. Anyone else would have flinched away and yelped in pain. "Hey." He says softly before sitting next to me. I keep my eyes locked on the ground outside. "The others went to lunch. What’s up?"

I just shrug. I don’t know how else to respond.

"Something’s bumming you out. Something pretty big. What is it?" He asks.

"It’s nothing." I mumble. Why doesn’t he get that I don’t want to talk?

"No it’s not." He moves his head to be in my field of vision, and I give up. I let my eyes latch onto his as he moves back to his old position. "Come on, Blondie. We don’t keep secrets from each other."

I’m starting to get frustrated. "I know this is a stupid excuse, but you wouldn’t understand." I growl.

"You never know." He says.

"No," I snap. "I do know. You’ve never experienced anything close to this. You can’t make me feel better, so just stop."

"Stop? I’m supposed to just walk away and let you wallow here in sadness?" He asks.

"Yes, you are." I snarl, looking back out the window.

"Fine." He abruptly stands up and takes his time crossing the room. "I’ll just bail on my best friend when she very obviously needs support."

"Close the door on your way out." I tell him.

His footsteps stop. I hear him take in a sharp breath. "D****t, Amber!" He slams his fist against the wall. That doesn’t get my attention as much as hearing him use my actual name. I whip my head around. He faces the wall and maybe doesn’t know I’m facing him. "Damn you!" What? Why is he saying that? Is he finally mad at me for hurting him. "I’d die for you, and you won’t even open up to me! I’m supposed to walk away?" He turns to face me, and he’s no longer concerned. He’s beyond enraged. I’ve never seen him like this. "We’re supposed to be best friends! But recently, you’ve just been an a*****e to me!"

Normally, I would respond with a snarky remark of some sort. I can’t think of anything, and I’m too stunned to even make a sound. So I just stare.

"What? Do you shut down when people don’t compliment you? When we’re all not kissing your a*s? Because you don’t deserve to be babied!" He has the intention of insulting me. He succeeds so easily and quickly, I have to believe that these words have been in his mind for a while. To execute them with such accuracy, he must have practiced. Said them thousands of times in his mind. "First, you just up and leave for a solo mission without telling me! Then, you nearly die, and we all think you’re dead, and you don’t think for a second that I’d like to talk to you! That I’d really like to know if my best friend is alive or not!" He puts his hands to his forehead and up through his hair. "Next time I see you, you’re weak and you’re not you!" He’s gone from anger to panic. Both of us share that emotion with wide eyes. "I wake up, and you’re not there! You’re gone, and you’re talking to some human! Some human you didn’t grow up with!" He throws his head back and lets out some sort of furious yell. "It’s like you have no idea how freaking important you are to me! You and Andrew are my best friends! Everyone else hates me! Kelli does! Cody does! Mr. C. does! Without you, I’m all alone! You can’t turn you back on me!" He pauses and lets his head drop in defeat. I don’t know who’s heart is pounding faster. We could both die of heart attacks if we were human. "Everyone else already has."

Oh, my gosh.

That’s why Ty and I immediately became best friends. That’s why we’re as close as we are. Not because we have similar personalities. Not because we love to piss each other off. And certainly not because we both disliked Cody.

Because we’re both lonely.

We’re both outsiders. Hopelessly desperate for friends of any sort. He’s just as confused and curious as I am. We’re freaks of nature, and we’re freaks to those freaks. There’s something so relatable and comforting in another weirdo.

I don’t know what it is that makes Ty lonely. All I know is that there’s something unlike the rest of us in him. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for him. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s been eating him. To never find respite in some people. Finding only slight solace in one person, who promptly runs off. Runs away and avoids all their problems.

What I loved most about the nomads was that they were outcasts. I thought that as long as I have them, I’ll never be alone. I was wrong. I’m not abandoned on my own. Not unless I turn my back on the one person I can always count on.

I don’t say anything. I jump to my feet and sprint at Ty. I throw my arms around his chest and lock them tightly. He gasps a little, and I keep my face buried in his shirt. He tenses for a moment, then relaxes. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on them. I’m fine with him being taller than me.

"I’m sorry." I say. No eyebrow raised, no hands on hips, no sarcasm. I replace it all with sincerity.

He exhales. "It’s okay." His voice is soft, low and beyond comforting. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." I tell him.

We just hug for awhile. Content in silence.

When we do let go, we decide to go to the roof. Ty sits on my right, just like he would at our home compound. This time, however, there is no glass dome over our heads. Instead of hundreds of little, distant stars, we have one huge, bright one. We can actually smell the fresh-- scratch that. It’s Los Angeles--  air and feel the breeze. Los Angeles is a trippy city. There are buildings that to a Californian, are skyscrapers. To every other state, they are barely medium. The traffic is colossal. There’s a downtown area with the tallest of the structures, surrounded by one or two-storied buildings. It is sunny, as was guaranteed to the masses, and the air is thick with smog. It’s not like I imagined it, full of limos and a-list celebrities. Hollywood is a small part of Los Angeles, like Chinatown to the city. I wish I could have casually visited Chinatown as normal people do. It would have been the ideal chance to try my Mandarin.

"So," I break the silence. "You’re an outsider?"

He nods. "You, too?"

"Yeah." I admit.

"What’s different about you?" He wonders.

"All of you are somewhat human. You have human flaws. You need to eat, sleep, excrete, that kind of stuff. I don’t. I don’t cry or fart or bleed or anything. You take that away from a person and you realize just how relatable it all is." I explain. "I have nothing in common with humans. Not a single thing. It’s a miracle when I can form a meaningful relationship with anything at all. I’ve spent the majority of my life alone, in a training room. All the time you’ve been sleeping, I’ve been awake with no one other than myself. I just kind of got used to the loneliness. I didn’t think I could relate to anyone, so I never brought it up."

"For the record," He says loudly and confidently, which for some reason reminds me of a rooster, "Humans and half-human-half-mutants feel emotions. We all get lonely."

"You are as flawed as I thought." I respond.

"Oh well. We’re all at least a little messed up. Every single thing." He stretches out the last sentence, putting emphasis on each syllable to make sure I really hear it.

"Is that so?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. He nods. "Then what makes you ‘at least a little messed up’?"

His shoulders drop. "Um…" His heart picks up the pace. This is either going to be incredibly juicy or morbidly heartbreaking. "I promise I’ll tell you. After you tell me why you’re sad."

"What? I just shared my secret!" I protest.

"You call that a secret? You just told me something I already knew!" He counters.

I throw my hands in the air. I don’t want to argue right now. "Whatever. Fine. But you can’t tell anyone. Promise?"

"If you don’t spill my secret, I won’t spill yours." He answers.

"Okay." I take a deep breath. "I met these four humans during my mission. At first, they just helped me with transportation when I was too weak to run. Then I really started caring about them, and I think I started to begin falling in love with one of them. They were travelling to Tijuana, and when they crossed the Mexican-American border," I pause, bracing myself for the rock that will drop into my stomach. "They were all shot and killed." There it is. And it hurts just as much. The blade’s still there.

"No. You’re kidding." He says.

"I’m dead serious. There was this blonde boy named Mav, and I liked him. A lot." My cheeks are burning. I can’t believe I’m embarrassed over Mav. He and Ty would get along well. I think.

"How old were they?" He asks.

"Who are you, my older brother?" I ask.

"Well, aren’t I?"

"Touche." We know each other better than most siblings do. "Mav was nineteen. Two others were nineteen, another was twenty-one."

"Did you guys ever do anything?"

I snicker a little. "What, was Cody’s errotica not enough for you? I never knew you were so into romance." I elbow him in the ribs.

He pushes me back. "I’m more curious as to how he didn’t burn to death."

"It wasn’t anywhere near what you’re thinking of. We never even made out." My cheeks. They’re bright red. I can feel my face heating up more than normal.

"Oh, my gosh."

"What?"

"You wish you did. You’re blushing. Oh, my gosh. That’s adorable." He starts grinning and even laughing.

"Stop it!" I shove him, and he bounces me back, retaliating with just as much force. "You said everyone feels emotions."

"Yeah," He stops laughing and keeps smiling. "Except you used to hate humans, and you only had a crush on Andrew for like a year."

"I know that." I snap. "Don’t judge me. He was funny and kind and smart and brave and," And I could go on forever. I start sighing frequently and zoning out, thinking of how he was just days ago.

"And dreamy?" Ty clasps his hands together and holds them against his jawline. He bats his eyelashes and continues in a higher voice than usual. "And sexy? And a nine on the richter scale?"

"The richter scale?" I ask.

"Because he makes you crumble." He uses his stupid fake girly voice, suddenly making it sultry and deep for the last word.

"If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you know what I’m going through." I say.

I expect him to shove me or shoot me a, "You wish!" Instead, he looks down and drops his hands. Is he going to justify his silence? I give him time to answer, and he doesn’t move.

"Ty?" I ask.

"You’re as liberal as Andrew, right?" He questions.

"Of course." I assure him.

"Good." His heart is beating rapidly. "Okay." He takes a few deep breaths in. "You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?"

"Is it bad?" I ask.

"No." He says. "Just really personal."

"I won’t tell anyone."

"Not even Andrew?"

I want to say I probably won’t tell, but I know that Ty’s being serious. I need to prove that I can be, too. "Not even Andrew."

He takes a deep breath in. "I’m gay." He spits the words out, like they’ve been a rotten tooth lodged in his mouth for years.

Whoa. I wasn’t anticipating that. I don’t know what exactly I was anticipating, perhaps a confession of love for Kelli or me? Admitting to a kinky fetish? Bringing up a traumatizing event? Not this. It’s his turn to blush.

"You’re not joking?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"I can’t say I blame you. Andrew has a nice a*s." I admit.

"You think I don’t know that?" He asks. His response catches me off guard, and I burst into laughter. I grab my stomach and kick my legs, letting my ugly laugh out proudly. I scare the nearby birds-- and probably soldiers-- with my psychotic hollering.

I finally calm down, my side aching. "I love you." I say.

"No, you love Brad." His tone is light and he smiles.

"You messed up his name on purpose."

"Yes I did."

"Why?"

"Because I’m an a*****e. Yet you love me, a*****e and all."

"You just made a very innocent, family-type love sound perverted and sexual."

"Yes I did." He states the fact proudly. I am convinced Ty feels no shame.

"No wonder no one likes us." I announce.

"Seriously, though." Ty’s tone drops to become flatter. "You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to come out."

"When did you know?" I ask.

"The second I didn’t enjoy being with two gorgeous girls. Also, Andrew. I had a crush on him before you did." He says.

"I’ve always shipped Tyndrew." I proudly declare.

He smiles to himself. "I knew you’d all be fine with it. It’s just.. people make it seem like such a big deal."

"Love is a big deal. It’s more important than I gave it credit for."

"Only because you met a hottie."

"So what if I did? I know you’re jealous." I tease.

"You tell that to yourself." He says, rolling his eyes.

"You know, no matter what, we’re partners in crime. Fire doesn’t exist without air. I don’t care if you’re sexually attracted to alligators or sandwiches." I tell him. He has to know that. I don’t want him to have to hide who he is or dislike a part of him he can’t control.

"Good. Because I’m partial to Andrew’s sandwiches."

"They can’t be that good."

"They are."

"Really? That good?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, Blondie. I’ve just gotten everyone to lie to you for the past five years because I have nothing better to do." Sarcasm is contagious. "They are seriously that good."

"He’s probably making one right now in the dining hall. We could go steal it." I suggest.

"There you are, Blondie!" He bolts onto his feet, grabbing my hand and squeezing it until it nearly cracks in half. He yanks me up and runs across the rooftop. "Let’s go break the law!"

"We’re going to Vegas after this mission!" I decide.

"Male strippers and gambling!" He sounds like he might pass out. Like it’s too good to possibly be reality. "I’m so in!"

Jogging with Ty, I can live with the blade in my gut. It’s still there. I still feel it stirring up my insides and pooling in my mind and heart. Its venom is much less painful this time around. I can go on like this.

I’m sure.

"You're naked again." Kelli points out. She sits next to Cody, who probably thinks that no one notices his hand on her thighs. Andrew sits across from them, next to Ty. I sit next to the guy who can fly. Cody, Kelli and Andrew have trays with various foods: all exclude meat and dairy. Andrew has gotten to them. Ty doesn’t bother getting his own food. He figures he can mooch a sandwich. "Enlighten us."

"I'm not naked. I'm wearing pants." Ty says, and he is.

Kelli rolls her eyes. Our immaturity. It must be overwhelming to someone of her caliber. "Half naked. Whatever."

"Did you lose your shirt in a bet?" Andrew asks, taking a bite out of a ridiculously red apple. He must have grown that himself.

"You could receive a replacement." Cody suggests, taking a dainty sip of his soy milk.

"Not for Amber-resistant clothes. They only make like three of those." Ty says. They have one extra not being worn, and it’s a back-up for me.

"I still don’t completely understand why you need fireproof clothes." I tell Ty.

"Because they know I'm going to hang out with you." He says. "Hanging out" for us is beating each other up.

"Why, exactly, are you shirtless in the dining hall?" Kelli asks, loud enough to make those not already aware of Ty’s exposure well aware. If I wasn’t already used to staring...

"Okay," Ty begins, leaning forward. "So Amber and I were heading over here, and this soldier's swerving like a drunk driver." He uses hand motions to show the movements of this man.

"We suspect several drugs." I add. They needed to hear that.

"Multiple drugs at once. He's moaning and everything. He starts bumping into the walls and eventually falls over." Ty says.

""He's still conscious, though." I pitch in.

Ty shoots me a look and continues. "Barely. I try to help him up, and it's like he doesn't have bones in his legs."

He’s understating how limp this guy’s legs were. "Or muscles or anything that would provide some degree of stability." I explain.

Ty drops his forearms on the table and faces me. "Can you let me tell the story?" He asks. I thought no one had less patience than me.

"You're telling it wrong." I counter.

"Right, because you're the master storyteller." He says.

Clearly.

"Anyways, I'm basically carrying this guy. I'm like, ‘What's up? Are you okay? Did something happen?’ He turns to me, boy's got stank breath," He pauses. Probably in anticipation for my comment, but I remain silent. I motion for him to continue. "And his face is--"

"This hideous shade of--" I cut off Ty, only to get hit in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind away. How dare he interupt my interjection. How dare.

"His face is green." Ty goes on, completely ignoring the beautiful insults I throw at him. "He tries to say something and instead, throws up. Throws up all over my shirt, and it’s like warm casserole. It’s this chartreuse-orange color, and it reeks. Like seriously, worst thing I’ve ever smelled. It’s warm, too." Ty leans back and shakes his head. "So freaking nasty."

I have to fill in what he left out. "He started freaking out like a little girl. Shrieking and shaking his wrists. He drops the sick dude, and the guy falls on his face. His nose goes straight into the linoleum."

"Dude puked on me!" Ty slams one of his hands on the table. He’s easily the loudest one. He directs his volume directly into my ear."Nasty a*s vomit was all over me!"

I address the group and anyone eavesdropping on what they must assume is the weirdest conversation they’ve ever heard of. "He gets his shirt off in like, two seconds, and throws it on the ground like it’s a bomb. He kicks it across the hall, checking himself to see if any barf got on him."

Ty turns to the group. "Blondie’s not helping me at all. She’s just laughing maniacally, because apparently, this is the best thing ever."

I chuckle. "And it is," I announce.

"A*****e." Ty doesn’t bother murmuring.   

"Dumbass." I use the same volume.

"We tell the dude to go the infirmary and get some pepto bismol or something. I take my shirt to be cleaned by nudging it, tapping it with my toes."

"Ty’s like a little kid, afraid of a mouse. It’s absolutely hysterical." In case they haven’t already gotten the point that Ty’s misfortune greatly entertains me.

"She doesn't help me. At all. Just trails behind me, laughing." Ty says.

"Oh, because you’d help me if I was in your shoes." I point out.

He stares at me blankly for a second as I await his response. "I would."

I start laughing and point an accusatory finger at him. "You hesitated! You just proved my point!"

"I hate you." That sentence, he grumbles.

My laughter calms down. "Not as much as you hate the puker. You cursed this guy out like twelve times." I face the others and point to Ty. "He went off."

"He had to puke on me. Couldn’t lean to his left, had to lean to his right and into me." He’s still pissed off, and I think I find it funnier than it is.

Night comes, and a lights-out has been ordered. Our battle begins tomorrow. The last of the mission. The first of a war. I am fighting my whole life.

Ty and Andrew sit upright in their beds on the right of the room. Cody and Kelli sit next to each other, arms tangled around hips and backs and waists and necks. I sit on the windowsill, looking out into the stars. I wish Mav was looking at them, too. Same stars, different place. Maybe he is. Maybe the different place isn’t a different geographical location. I like to think that wherever he is, he’s content. He isn’t yearning for me. I just want him to be happier than I’ve been.

"Hey, Amber." Andrew calls out to me. I whip my head around. He waves me over. "Come join us."

I lean against the wall between Andrew and Ty, who stares at me and mouths, "I’m going to tell them." I nod.

"Hey, guys?" He asks. His voice is weaker than usual. "I have something you should know."

"I already know you’re gay." Kelli says.

"You’re gay?" Andrew asks.

Ty turns to me. "Did you tell her?" He demands.

"I can read minds, stupid." Kelli snaps at him.

"You knew?" Andrew asks me. "Is that why you shipped us?"

"I’d have shipped you even if you were both hetero." I admit.

"Good for you for coming out, Ty." Andrew says. "That can’t have been easy."

"It would have been hard if Kelli didn’t blurt it out." Ty says.

"You’re welcome." She sounds like she’s snarling at us. Cody buries his face in her neck, and she shuts her eyes. Andrew, Ty and I stiffen and look at each other.

"Is there a curtain we can pull down or something?" I ask.

"Dude," Ty says to Andrew. "Bring their bed down into the earth."

"No!" I shout frantically. "Don’t give them a dungeon!"

"Come on, guys." Andrew calls to the two lovers. "Don’t make us watch."

"Know that we’re judging you very harshly right now." Ty adds.

They finally stop, and Cody returns to his bed. He’s already exhausted. He’s going to die tomorrow in battle if his stamina is that bad. He’s covering the ocean aspect of battle on his own. He’s got a lot to deal with.

"What’s the itinerary for tomorrow?" Cody asks.

"Breakfast at oh-seven hundred. We leave for our battle stations at oh-seven hundred thirty." Kelli says.

"And we just fight all day?"Andrew asks.

"Depends how long we last." I warn.

"Were you nervous?" Andrew asks me. "Before your first fight?"

"No." I admit. "But I should have been."

They eventually doze off, and I return to my windowsill. I miss Mav. I miss K.B. I miss Dawson. I miss Ardo. I haven’t fully accepted the fact that they’re dead. Part of me wants to believe in the poetic sense that their souls or essence are still here, that they’re never really gone as long as I remember them. Most of me, however, realizes that they’re gone, they’re dead, and there’s no coming back. Sooner or later, I have to accept it. Somehow I’ll move on. I don’t think there’s some universal remedy for post-death heartbreak, nor do I think one can use the same recuperation for every death. I think it’s something people learn as they go along in life: how to deal with death.

I’m sure that by the time the war is winding down, I will be used to tragedies. I will be an expert in recovering from death if I have not already forced others to recover.

Around three in the morning, I hear footsteps outside of my door. Half curiosity and half boredom drives me to rush to the door. They stop about three feet from my door, in the middle of a hallway intersection and begin speaking. I press my ear to the door and peek underneath it at the people’s shoes. They’re doing something. I can’t see what.

"I don’t understand." One of them says. They’re female, young. Twenty-three, perhaps? Normal heartbeat. Her voice is unfamiliar to me. "They disabled every single alarm." Is that what they’re doing? Activating the alarms?

"There’s no footage of it happening, and you have to do it manually." This voice is definitely from a male. A little bit older, likely around twenty-six. Nothing atypical about him based on his vitals.

"That doesn’t make sense. Not unless it was one of…" She drops silent and their shoes turn to face my room. I back away from the door to avoid my glow or warmth seeping through. Her voice drops to a whisper. "The mutants?"

"It can’t have been." The male assures her. "They’re accounted for every minute of the day. Security already checked it out."

"There’s not a malfunction?" The woman asks. I hear a soft beep, and the two start walking down the halls.

"Not one. Someone intentionally turned the alarms off." He tells her.

The last thing I hear before they turn a corner and go out of range is her saying, "The only alarms they missed were smoke detectors."

I rapidly scoot away from the door, scrambling to get away until my back hits the wall. I stare at the light, trying to get my chest to stop heaving. I have to stay calm. I have the upperhand now. I can deal with this. I’ll be okay.

Only smoke detectors were left working?

Someone in the building is trying to kill me.

And they’ve figured out how.