ROGUE

Razor and two other recruits drag me to a room down the hall. One arm around Razor, another around the girl. The third recruit stands behind me in case I'm faking. He steps on my heel occasionally. If I had the strength I would have snapped at him about forty-eight seconds ago, but my head hangs loose, chin against my chest and blood soaking the t-shirt I'm wearing.

I wish Razor would say something. A tiny whisper, a comforting squeeze of my bicep — anything to tell me that he still believes me, that he doesn't care what Vosche says, that I'm not a Dorothy, I'm still completely sane. But he doesn't. And, eventually, I stop wishing and start praying.

I've never been very religious. My family was pentecostal and I went to church when I was younger, singing as loud as possible with my annoyingly-squeaky voice, but after my mother stopped forcing me to go, I did what any teenager did and stopped going. I used to believe in a higher power even after I stopped going. After the Arrival, that changed. But, now, as I start to question even my own sanity, I start to pray. I wonder briefly why this is, and decide that's a thought that is too deep-rooted to think about right now. I just had several people downloaded into my consciousness — I need a break.

Razor and the girl lay me down on a hospital bed that I don't register until I feel the scratchy, white sheet beneath my skin. Touching it leaves my mind reeling, but I have no strength to move away.

I catch Razor's eye. He's never been good at hiding his emotions — still isn't — but my head hurts too much to understand what he's feeling. It rolls to the side lazily as the recruits begin to attach restraints to my ankles, wrists, and waist. I don't see why. I can barely move as it is.

Dr. Mark, a middle-aged man from the ward, comes in beside Dr. Claire. Claire rolls in a table full of syringes. Mark connects an iv and hooks up the monitor beside the bed. The needle presses against my skin, sinks lower, into the muscle, burning the whole way. I'm surprised I felt it in the first place. My toes and fingers feel numb, the sensation flowing up my limbs slowly.

The monitor beeps. When my vitals appear on the screen, Mark looks concerned. He nods to Claire, who wraps a blue rubber band around my arm and taps the inside of my elbow. She injects the first syringe easily. Mark grabs a stopwatch.

"It'll relax you," Claire says, trying hard to keep her voice level. I can't tell if she's happy or upset that this is happening to me.

The girl recruit leaves, closing the door behind her. My eyes drift away from where she was standing, back to Razor, who stands at attention on the opposite side of the bed from Claire and Mark. I wonder what he's thinking. 'Just another Dorothy,' probably.

Suddenly, Vosche is standing next to me. My head spins. When did he come in? Was he there the whole time? I swallow thickly. What does he want?

"Perfect," Mark says, glancing between the stopwatch and the monitor.

"I won't help you," I mumble, but it's barely intelligible.

Vosche smiles. "You will."

"Inserting the hub now," Claire says. The second syringe. The hub. Alien technology?

"Stop," whispering, out of tears, feeling as though I'm about to explode, "Please, stop this."

      I don't hear his response. I feel a pinch in my arm and my head rolls back. The last thing I see is Razor taking a step towards me, hand outstretched, before everything disappears.

      Vosche's voice makes me open my eyes. I'm not sure how much time passed. The stopwatch is going, making an irritating ticking sound as the seconds go past. I don't know how much time passed. I don't even know what's going on. I don't even know if I'll survive.

      Claire says something that I don't understand. The world is muffled. Vosche holds my chin in his hand, keeping my head upright. Ice cold eyes pour into mine, staring into my soul. Does he know everything about me? I know everything about Ben Parish and I've never met him. Vosche has access to everything via Wonderland: Does he know everything about every kid he's hooked up to that machine?

      Does he know where my brother is?

      The sound of the stopwatch, the monitor, Razor breathing, it all returns in a matter of seconds. It's everywhere, it's nowhere at all. It consumes me, it leaves me empty.

      "You will be my soldier," Vosche whispers, an inch from my face. "You will do everything it takes to stay alive. You will reunite with Sofia. You will betray her. You will return him to me, alive. You will help me, Courtney. You have no choice. Do you?"

     "No," I answer, honestly, knowing why he's chosen me now. I know things about Sofia. I'm a familiar face in a world full of unfamiliarity. She will trust me because of this, and I will betray her to save her life. And he won't tell me where Kyle is until it's been done.

      I have to return Evan Walker to this base to save everything that I have lost.

__

The device is called the 12th System. Vosche tells me this the second time that I wake up, which must have been hours later judging by how drowsy I feel. He also tells me that I've seen this before, the first day I arrived at Camp Haven. Back then, I was made to believe that it was an Infested, an alien attached to the brain of a normal human. That was a lie.

      The hub is microscopic, fastened to the prefrontal lobe of my brain. He had called it a central processing unit. The purpose of it is to coordinate the forty thousand mechanized nanobots inside of my body. He told me that it would take only days for my body to decide whether or not it could handle the hub. If it didn't, I would really go Dorothy. Or I would die. He said it varied from person to person, really. I think it was meant to be comforting. It didn't work.

      Razor becomes my full-time caretaker. The energy to speak doesn't come often, but when I can manage to get out a few words, he barely acknowledges them. Nothing more than a small nod or a 'Really? That's nice'. Maybe it's for the better. If Vosche doesn't know that we're friends (if we even are anymore), then he can't target him. 

      Claire comes in once a day, checking in on everything. According to her, things are going smoothly. I have a slight fever and the constant blood taking makes my muscles sore, but besides that, it's all going great. She set my nose while I was asleep. Somehow, it didn't wake me. Somehow, it healed completely. I don't ask how. It definitely has something to do with the alien technology coursing through my veins.

      I can't take it anymore. When Razor brings my lunch for me on the third day, I start crying. He stands beside the bed, frozen, watching the tears rolling down my cheeks. He glances to the corner of the room, knowing a camera is there, and then pulls the tray in front of me. I don't bother caring about whether or not Razor will be targeted by Vosche -- I had forgotten something. When he hooked me up to Wonderland for the second time, our relationship would have been introduced to him. He already knows.

      "Eat something," he begs quietly, no longer looking at me, eyeing the mushy carrots instead. "They told me to make sure you eat everything. I don't know why. Just do it."

      "I'm a Dorothy," I lie, watching as his eyes snap to mine, dark brown full of question. No Dorothy is sane enough to admit it, but it's worth a try. Maybe this is how I make him trust me. Even if he doesn't, maybe Vosche will let him talk to me more if he knows I won't tell him anything.

      "Eat something," Razor repeats.

      I eat all of the carrots. Nausea threatens to make them come back up, by I force it down swallow by slow swallow. When I'm done, Razor presses the button that lowers the bed so I'm laying down. Before he leaves, he warns me to roll on my side if I plan to sleep. It'll stop me from choking on the carrots.

      I roll on my side and press my cheek to the hard pillow. When the carrots come back up, I don't choke on them.

__

Razor doesn't bring me my supper. Instead of him, it's the girl recruit that dragged me here the first day. She doesn't say anything as she slides the tray on the adjustable table and sits me up.

      "Is he dead?" I ask, staring at the grey mystery meat.

      "Who?" she asks. Her voice is velvety and kind of comforting.

      "The boy that usually brings my food."

      "No clue. Eat your food so I can leave."

      I eat everything I can, which isn't much. She doesn't lay me back down before she leaves. I lose the energy to call out to her. I realize almost fifteen minutes later that it was intentional. It's confirmed when he shows up in the doorway.

      Vosche is smiling when he comes in. It's not out of amusement, or even happiness. It seems... surprised. Content. Maybe even relieved.

      I ask him the same question I asked the girl. He tells me that Razor is alive but he's been injured. When I ask if it's my fault, he tells me no.

      "Ringer," Vosche says, nodding in thought, looking to me to gauge my reaction. I barely blink at him. "She was apart of Squad 53."

      "You found them?" The monitor picks up the spike in my heart rate. So does Vosche.

      "We never lost them. We've always known where they've been, Courtney. But we're not looking for them. We're looking for Evan Walker."

      Wonderland. If they have Ringer, then they must know if Evan Walker's in the hotel. "So he's not with them?"

     "I'm afraid not," Vosche reveals. "I haven't been totally honest with you."

      "Clearly."

      The corner of his lips curls up. "We already know where Walker is."

      "Huh."

      "He's been staying with a Silencer. A Droid, as you prefer to call them. He was badly injured from the explosions and they've been helping him heal. The problem is, he escaped. He tried to take Grace out, but she made contact to inform us of the departure."

      I let out a shaky breath. "He went to the hotel."

      "In the general direction. Our assumption is that he will arrive there a day or so after Ringer leaves."

      "And, what? You want to send me there to intercept him?"

      "Not yet. For now, accept the hub."

      My head rolls forward, eyelids drooping once more. When I manage to look back at him, he's already gone. The words twist around her, trapping her in her thoughts. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop the acidic vomit sliding up her throat.

      For now, accept the hub. I thought that I was doing that already, but apparently the forty thousand mechanisms aren't agreeing with my system. Was it a matter of self-acceptance, or something else? I wasn't sure. I wanted to be sure. I missed being sure about things.

      "I accept," I whisper.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Razor and Courtney's relationship is beautiful and I love them so, so much. I'm excited to further develop the relationship and, especially, introduce Ringer! Y'all already know her obviously, but her dynamic with Courtney is much, much different than her and Sofia's. It's going to be interesting for sure.

I'll see y'all in the next update ;)