I follow Marcus like a cat introduced into a new home, slowly and cautiously, The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I feel on edge. The rock walls are making me claustrophobic and my teeth chatter from the coldness emanating deep inside of me.

"I know you have a lot of questions that you wish someone to answer, and I will answer as many as I can, in time," Marcus smiles at me as we all sit down.

Liam and Anthia sit opposite me. Marcus puts a scratchy blanket over my shoulder, which isn't doing much for my cold and tired body. He takes a seat next to me, facing me with his hands resting on his knees, giving me his full attention.

"Liam, can you please grab the first aid kit and clean Elly up, please?" Marcus says without looking away from me.

I hear a chair scrape against the floor and rummaging through papers, but I can't look away from Marcus, waiting for him to give me answers. My attention on Marcus is stolen when Liam kneels in front of me. I notice small droplets of blood on the floor beneath me from my cut-up hands.

He gently takes my hands and starts to clean them with something that stings like a bitch I hiss and want to rip my hand away, instead, I look away from him, ignoring his sweet smell and focus back on Marcus.

"What is this place?" I demand.

"Ah, I cannot tell you that just yet." He sighs.

"Seriously? So much for answers."
I push Liam away, who has finished bandaging my hands.

"Look, I can tell you that we are safe, we are hidden and for now, Zenith doesn't know this place exists."

"Fine, why are you all here?"

"We don't believe in the new regime," he says matter-of-factly.

"Are you part of the terrorist group that Zenith has been looking for?"

"We are not terrorists; we are a rebellion. We aren't hurting anyone, we are trying to save them." Marcus quickly stands up. 

He walks towards a bookshelf that I hadn't noticed before and picks something off the shelf. When he gets back in front of me, he slams a worn-out brown book onto the table in front of me. I jump, I wish I hadn't, it makes me look weak, but I did.

"They have been collecting their prized humans for months now, but even before Zenith took power, they were secretly stealing people off the streets," He starts pacing, " Over the last ten years, the amount of missing people has risen one hundred and twenty-five per cent. Hundreds, if not thousands of people have disappeared with no trace. Their families have no answers." He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm himself.

"They are building an army to get rid of the rest of us. You saw only a few ordinary men chasing you, but they weren't ordinary. Their senses have been heightened, their human DNA has been genetically modified." He runs his hand through his hair.

"How do you know this?" I look down at the book, opening to the first page containing a list of names. I flick through some of the other pages that look like reports from various names on the list.

"We have people on the inside." He smiles proudly.

"Aren't you worried those people will be, what did you call it? Compromised?" I ask.

I look around the table at Anthia, then Liam who was still kneeling in front of me, bandaging my knees.

"We don't," he sighs, "But we have a few people working on a serum that will block any genetically modified substances placed in the body"

"But how can you create a blocker? Wouldn't you need a test subject, someone who had the altered DNA?" I ask. 

Genetics was a very interesting topic at school. Anthea looks at Marcus with an amused look.

"She said you were smart," he smiles warmly," we do have a test subject."

I stare at Marcus in horror, the fact that they have a test subject sends chills down my spine. Does this make them any better than Zenith? Even if they are trying to help people.

Marcus holds his hands up, "I know what you are thinking. How could we be the good guys if we have a human being who is our test subject? I want to assure you, this person is in the best possible care. We are trying to help him, not hurt him."

I'm still unconvinced, but I nod my head.

He clears his throat, "You must be starving. Let's continue these questions another time."

He looks at Liam, who gets up too quickly, causing the first aid box to tumble over. Liam bends back down, roughly shoves the supplies back into the box and hastily throws it on the table.

"Follow me!" Liam barks at me.

I stumble trying to catch up to him. His long legs give him an advantage as he walks quickly through a labyrinth of halls. My head starts to spin and my stomach heaves again. I stop to catch my breath.

'How big is this place?" I pant.

"Huge."

I roll my eyes at his sarcastic one-word answer.

"What's your problem?" I growl.

"Nothing," He says as he turns around and faces me.

His hand shoots out towards my face and I stiffen. He may have been nice in passing, but I do not trust anyone anymore. But his hand softly pulls something from my hair. His face turns sour.

"You need a shower, come on, I'll take you to the shower block."

He turned and hurried away, leaving me to catch up to him again.

After several long hallways and multiple turns that make my head spin, we walk into a large bathroom that is damp and a little musty. Showers line one wall and sinks with small round mirrors line the opposite.

Liam cleared his throat, "I'll go and get some of the girls to bring you a change of clothes. Just wait here."

He awkwardly walks backwards out of the bathroom, hitting his shoulder on the door as he exits. I don't even thank him, instead, I walk over to one of the mirrors and gasp at my reflection.

My strawberry blonde, shoulder-length hair is matted with dirt and twigs, my face is tear-streaked, and my freckles and pale skin are hidden behind a thick layer of grime. My usually bright green eyes look wild and frightened, I frown at the black bags under my eyes. No wonder Liam ran out of here, I look like a wild, homeless person.

My body has always been built bigger than the petit girls I knew before everything, even my breasts were on the bigger side. I never really felt self-conscious of my image before, but looking at myself, after all I had gone through, my stomach knots with embarrassment. Abby was so small and thin, she always looked better in dresses than me.

A memory began to play in my mind, like a movie that I had forgotten.

I was sitting on Abby's bed while she tried on all her dresses, throwing the ones she didn't like on a growing pile of discarded clothes. She looked at herself in the mirror, a frown on her face.

"You look gorgeous in anything," I told her.

"You're only saying that because you're my sister, you're obligated to." She huffed as she pulled off a lilac shift dress with ruffled sleeves.

"I am not obliged to. Look at you and look at me." I laughed.

She looked at me as if I was crazy. Abby had always been beautiful, with her long blonde hair with natural honey highlights, her natural curls always sat perfectly, even when she had just woken up. Her eyes were such a dark blue that I swore if you looked long enough, you would see galaxies swirling in them. She could wear anything and always looked flawless.

She wasn't popular at school, not in the way every gorgeous girl seemed to be. She despised popularity, she was more into activism and trying to make the world a better place, but she was still a 17-year-old girl who was obsessed with her phone and dressing for a date with a boy she liked.

Abby walked over to her bed, now dressed in a pale blue t-shirt dress, and sat down next to me. She grabbed my hands and pulled me into a hug.

"You are gorgeous, inside and out. Never let anyone make you feel any less." She whispered while she stroked my hair.

We sat there for hours, giggling and talking about boys, the sun slowly fading outside, rays of orange and pink filled her bedroom and Aby looked like a goddess in the warm evening light. She left for her date with a huge smile on her face.

That was the last good memory I had of her before Zenith. I never want to forget the happy, beautiful, laughing Abby.

A shadow behind me pulls me out of my memory and I wipe a tear away as the shattering cold comes back. I turn to see a dark-haired, olive-skinned girl, no older than fifteen, standing behind me. She smiles a pearly white smile that glows.

"I'm sorry to intrude," she says awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it." I offer a gentle smile and patiently await for her to proceed.

"I'm Millie, and you're Eleanor," she says excitedly.

"Elly," I correct her, "do you mind if I shower now?" I try and say the words nicely, but they come out impatiently.

Millie playfully smacks her forehead and then skips toward me with enthusiasm, handing over a small black duffle bag, her warm smile lingering as she exits the room.

I peer into the duffle bag as I walk towards the showers, hoping there is at least some shampoo in there to clean my hair. As I step into the shower, I start to take innovatory of what I've been given. One old brown towel, shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap and a cheap-looking toothbrush. Sighing with relief, I start to peel my clothes off.

The hot water takes a while to come, but once it does, I moan deeply at the warmth as the water drenches me. Ignoring my stinging hands and knees, I get to work cleaning myself. The shampoo smells too flowery, not like the coconut shampoo I'm used to, but it does its job and I watch the leaves and twigs wash down the drain with the soap suds.

The hot water works out some of the tension in my muscles, but I still feel the stress of all the unanswered questions. I try to take as long as I can in the shower, but too quickly the water turns cold.  

** P.S If you like Death Train, please hit that star button!