Chapter Forty-Four

Caleb

I didn't look back once as I sprinted through the darkness, hurrying Jeanette and Christopher ahead of me. There might have been shouts and footsteps following us, but I was too busy running to notice. I had no idea where we were, or where we were going, and at that moment, I hardly cared. The only important thing was getting out of there without being shot down by Leary's minions.

And, for me, trying not to think about Ms. Shea, lying dead on the floor of her prison cell.

"This way!" Christopher shouted from in front of me, his waving hand a barely visible outline in the shadows. I saw Jeanette dash after him, turning a corner through the endless hallways of the cell block. Resisting the urge to glance over my shoulder, I followed as well, through an open door and into what looked like another cell.

Jeanette was in there, hands on her knees, breathing so hard that you'd think she had just run a marathon. She glanced up slightly as I skidded in and looked around the small, dim space.

"Where's Chris?"

"Hell if I know," Jeanette panted, shrugging. "I just need a break."

I frowned, knowing better than to call out for my brother as I walked the perimeter of the room. Unlike Ms. Shea's cell, there was no second entrance, no shrouded doorway leading into a maze of corridors. It was possible that Chris had gone on down the hall, but if he had, we would have heard his footsteps.

"Was the door already open when you came in?" I asked, turning around.

Jeanette, who was leaning tiredly against the wall, nodded. "Wide open. I expected your brother to be in here, but he wasn't."

My frown deepened, and I quickly forgot about our potential pursuers. Running my hand against the wall, I roved its surface for any signs of a door carved into the stone. There was none. I could see every miniscule ridge in the rock, but there were no telltale slots or indentations.

"Jeanette, are you sure you didn't see any—"

A sharp gasp from behind me cut off my question. I froze, and without looking over my shoulder, murmured, "Jeanette?"

Two light footsteps and the unmistakable click of a closing door were the only response I got.

I turned around very, very slowly, expecting Leary's two guards or worse, Leary himself. Instead, to my utter shock (and horror) I found myself faced with someone else entirely. Charisma stood by the door with a smug expression, one hand pressed over Jeanette's mouth and the other curled around her throat. She smirked at me, her eyes conveying intense dislike toward me. I was surprised at her sudden appearance, to say the least. But I was floored at the sight of the person beside her, standing confidently with a gun in his hand.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, bringing a hand to my forehead. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The second figure laughed, a sound that bounced off the walls and seeped beneath my skin.

"Sorry, little brother," he said, "but this isn't a joke at all."

○●○●○●○

I was at a loss for words, and could do nothing but stare at Christopher as he crossed his arms and smiled at me. He didn't have the same menacing, disconcerting presence as Dr. Leary, but that didn't make me any less distraught. I didn't know what was going on, but based on the leering grin on my brother's face, I knew it couldn't be good.

"What are you doing?" My voice was tight as I edged closer to Chris and Charisma.

Unlike Leary, who seemed to love cryptic wordplay, Christopher's answer was short and blunt. "I'm taking you to Miracle."

I felt my mouth slide open into a wide circle of surprise. I half expected Chris to laugh, to say he was just kidding and then shoot Charisma in the head. But he didn't. His face stayed deadly solemn as he regarded me, gauging my next move just as I was gauging his.

"I don't understand," was all I could say.

My brother laughed, just slightly, without smiling. "You made a mistake in telling me everything," he said quietly. "We may be brothers, but we're on opposite sides. I was surprised, actually, that I managed to fool you into thinking that we were allies. I thought you were smarter than that. Apparently, I was wrong."

My mind raced as everything connected and clicked into place. I suddenly felt stupid—so, so stupid—for having been so open to someone that I knew was working for Miracle. Brother or not, it was unforgivable.

"So you've been lying," I hissed, "this entire time. About everything."

"Not everything," Chris contradicted. "I did know about us being brothers, and who I used to be. I knew about Dyanne, as well."

I could only gape. "How? Did Miracle tell you?"

He cast a sideways glance at Charisma, who looked on with interest, before laughing bitterly and shaking his head. "Hardly. She's kept many secrets from me. No, I found that out by myself. I was telling the truth when I said that my sleuthing abilities are...rather exemplary."

"Now Miracle knows, though," I pressed. "She knows that you know what she's been hiding from you. She isn't angry?"

Christopher, surprisingly, snorted. "Do you think I told her everything? Maybe you really aren't as smart as I thought, Caleb. I only told her the necessary things; ergo, everything about your coming down to the tunnels. I had taken the first step in arranging to accompany you down here; Miracle instructed me to apprehend you."

I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to drop to my knees. Everything was unraveling just as quickly as it had strung together, and through my naivete, I had ruined everything for everyone, all with a single idiotic conversation.

But, devastating though it was, I couldn't dwell on that. My life at that moment was measured in seconds; precious, fleeting seconds that I simply couldn't afford to waste. I had no weapons, no object of self-defense save for my own two hands. Everything rode on my ability to talk myself out of the situation.

And talk I did.

"After all her lies," I began, drawing from a hidden reserve of strength, "you still plan to choose Miracle. After all she's done to you. She took you from your family, wiped your memory, and killed your girlfriend. Is she really deserving of your loyalty?"

Christopher shrugged. "Miracle has the power. If she wants to, she can stop the Pro-Inferiors with one hand and blow up the country with the other."

I thought about the Pro-Inferiors, running beneath the Capitol and laying down bombs that would soon blow everyone within the dome to bits. Maybe Miracle would be able to stop a few of them, but she only knew as much about their plans as I did, which was very little, so she'd be apt to miss a few. Enough would be left to do some major damage.

Narrowing my eyes, I stared down my brother, and he gazed back at me almost lazily. I had to make a choice between the Superiors and the Pro-Inferiors, and I had to make it now. I figured that I'd be going down either way; it was a matter of what side I was on when I did.

Did I choose the Pro-Inferiors, who wanted to blow up the entire Capitol whether there were innocent people inside it or not? Or did I choose the Superiors, who conducted mad experiments in the basement and tortured art teachers to death?

I had to keep Christopher talking.

If it meant staying beneath the Capitol until the bombs went off, then so be it. Despite my misgivings about the Pro-Inferiors, despite everything, I was willing to sacrifice myself to stop Miracle, Leary, and the Superiors.

"So you're willing," I said at last, "to give up your own younger brother just to appease Miracle."

Chris shrugged. "Essentially, yes. Really, what's one life lost?"

At that, something snapped inside of me as I realized that my brother truly did not care. Maybe I was hoping that deep down, Christopher still had a a shred of humanity that would feel compassion for the little brother he was practically laying down to slaughter. But there was none. There was nothing in his face, in his soul, even, except a raw, primal hunger for power.

My voice was tinged with pain and anger as I screamed, "God, I'm gonna kill you!" and charged at my brother, palms out, face twisted, and ready for murder.

Until a hoarse scream sounded from my right and stopped me in my tracks.

"Uh uh uh," Christopher taunted, waggling his finger back and forth. "If you so much as brush a hair on my head, the girl gets it."

I turned my head slowly, almost afraid of what I would see. Jeanette was still locked in Charisma's death grip, and no matter how much she kicked and struggled, could not get free. Her face was a gradually deepening shade of violet, and her eyes were wide with terror.

Charisma, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself.

"That's enough, Ris," my brother said dismissively, "I think he understands." Charisma released her grip, and Jeanette fell to the floor, gasping for breath as her cheeks returned to their normal shade. Charisma looked disappointed, almost, at having had her strangulation session interrupted.

Concerned, I moved toward the breathless Jeanette, but Christopher held up his gun to stop me.

"She'll be fine," he said, his gun following my movements. "You should be worrying about yourself."

I squinted at him, hoping for some kind of sibling telepathy, but could not for the life of me figure out what he was planning.

Swallowing any traces of fear, I pivoted so that I was looking straight into the barrel of the gun. Up close, it looked extremely threatening, but I forced myself to focus on its center, hoping that staring at the dark circle would clear my mind.

"Nothing to say?" Christopher taunted. I gritted my teeth.

"All right, so maybe you like Miracle because she's powerful," I conceded. "She is; extremely so. But so are the Pro-Inferiors. They're just as powerful as Miracle, maybe even more. Do you really want to let them fail?"

My brother merely tilted his head to the side. "Let them fail?" he echoed, as if the words were in another language. "I'm not planning on letting them fail. In fact, the Pro-Inferiors interest me."

I blinked in confusion. "They interest you?"

"Yeah. I agree with what you said, about them being powerful. For a rebel group to grow and prosper under the radar for such a long time...it's amazing, really. I respect their efforts, if nothing else."

I risked a small step forward as I regarded Christopher's impassive face.

"If that's true, why did you betray their plans to Miracle?" I questioned, becoming more bewildered by the heartbeat.

"I didn't. I told her that you were coming down to the tunnels," he corrected, "but that's the extent of the truth. I lied on the rest, fed her a load of bull-crap about you planning to escape. Now she wants you dead, which works just as well for me. She ordered me to take you to her for questioning. But if something happens to you along the way...well, that's not my problem."

Smirking, he lowered his gun. Unmistakably, I heard the safety click off.

"Wait a second," Charisma spoke up for the first time, "Champion, what the hell is going on? You said we were just going to nab the kid and—"

"Shut up," Christopher snapped, abruptly cutting her off.

Charisma opened her mouth to retort, but didn't get the chance. In one fluid movement, Chris had whipped up his gun hand and pulled the trigger deftly. A bullet released from the chamber with a crack before any of us could react, zipping through the air at lightning speed. It sped toward an unprepared Charisma, burying itself into the soft flesh at the base of her neck.

For one perilous second, she clutched at her throat, her eyes burning with shock and betrayal. Then, like a collapsing building, she toppled heavily to the ground.

Jeanette let out a hoarse and painful scream.

"Is she dead?" I whispered, after a prolonged silence.

"If not yet, she will be soon," my brother replied calmly.

Charisma's body was splayed out in perfect crime scene fashion, slowly being soaked in the crimson blood that seeped from the hole in her throat. It trickled across her flesh, dripping onto the floor and running in red rivulets along the stone. It was a small wound, but a lethal one. Regardless of whether Charisma was dead or alive, the sight was not pretty.

After tearing my eyes from the grisly picture before me, I managed to ask, "Why?"

"I won't need her anymore, once the Pro-Inferiors do their business," my brother stated.

"If you're letting the Pro-Inferiors complete their plans, you're not helping Miracle," I reasoned.

Christopher nodded. "No, I'm not. Like I said, I find the Pro-Inferiors intriguing. I plan to let them stick around, at least for a while. They'll be my booster, a lesser force than I can use to catapult myself to ultimate power. I'll see what their ideas are, then when I get bored, I'll get rid of them."

"You'll get rid of them," I echoed dimly, my voice very quiet.

"Like pests in a garden," he affirmed, spinning his gun around his finger. "Which brings me to a more important and pressing matter: getting rid of you. See, little brother, I figured that once Miracle is gone, there will only be one person with enough determination to try and stop me from seizing power. Not Jeremy Fairleigh, Nessa, or Perfecta—but you. You have a strange perception of wrong versus right, and it just so happens to conflict with mine." He paused, took a breath, and raised his gun. "As much as I hate to do it, I want power. And you might just be the only thing standing in my way.

I stumbled backward frantically, but it was too late. There was a blasting slam, the snip of a trigger being pulled—and then, like a thousand firecrackers, the deafening sounds of gunfire filled the air.

A/N: If there are grammar mistakes, spacing errors, or choppy sentences, I'm sorry. I wrote the majority of this at past midnight, in the dark, without my glasses. ALL FOR YOU GUYS.

So you'd better appreciate it. Or else.

Just kidding, I love you guys.

But seriously. You'd better appreciate it.

Don'tlistentomeit's3:17I'mdelirious.

GOODNIGHT.