Chapter Forty-Seven

Caleb

"Are you going to help them?" Jeanette demanded, snapping me out of a trance. I shook my head, clearing it. The two people in the room were undoubtedly familiar, but I couldn't let that distract me.

"Yeah," I muttered, already forming a plan. "But stand back."

I was moving before she could respond. I skidded around a surgical table, then came to a stop in front of a large box, where I had a straight shot to the glass-enclosed room. Gritting my teeth, I began a mad dash forward, moving at top speed toward the transparent wall thirty feet away.

The boy and girl froze mid-yell.

Just before slamming into the glass before me, I turned, lifted one leg, and drove it forward with as much force as I could manage. The action sent a wave of pain flowing up from the bullet wound in my abdomen, but I ignored it.

The force of the impact sent me flying into the room with a spray of glass in my wake. My body acted for me, guiding my arms up to protect my face as I slid forward across the shining tile. Bits of glass rained down on me, scratching the bare skin of my arms and slicing through my shirt.

Eventually, I managed to catch myself, and, hands on my knees, watched as a dozen hairline cracks drew spiderwebs across the glass. Then, with quiet tinkling sound, the wall collapsed, dropping hundreds of shards into a glimmering pile on the ground. A few skittered my way. I caught an especially sharp one under my shoe and picked it up, examining it quickly before sliding it into my pocket.

From somewhere behind Leary's equipment, Jeanette shouted, "Is it clear?" I called out an affirmative response before turning to assess the situation.

The boy and girl, who I was almost certain were related, were banded securely to their seats. Apart from a few bloody scratches on their wrists and ankles, they didn't seem to be harmed; they were too far away for the shower of glass to have reached them.

A third chair sat empty beside the girl's, its cuffs retracted, but the blood on its seat suggested that someone had been sitting there. It only took a moment to locate the chair's former occupant. She was lying on her stomach the ground, propped on one elbow, her brown hair a frizzy, sweaty curtain around her face. There was something startlingly familiar about her, too—something in the way her eyes blinked at me from behind her rectangular black glasses that I was certain I knew.

All of a sudden, a flash pain flooded into my head, overriding the ache of the bullet wound and the sting of the glass in my flesh. This was something heavier, deeper; a fierce monster that shredded my mind, digging and prodding for...something. A memory, I realized with a start. A memory that was just out of reach.

And there it was: a flash of remembering, lasting for no more than a heartbeat. A fleeting image of the girl before me, sitting with the other two on wooden chairs in a small, cramped room. The three of them looked at me, their expressions guarded but undoubtedly scared, and beside them, smiling coyly, was—

The memory was gone before I could see the fourth person. There, then gone. Just like that.

The agony faded, and I took a shaky breath. The girl was still staring at me, but neither of us had spoken. When I caught her eye, her lips parted slightly, and she murmured, "I knew they'd save us."

I wasn't sure what she meant.

She stared at me unabashed, her eyes roving carefully over my face as I shifted beneath her gaze. Her expression was one of surprise, and, just barely, disgust. This girl, whoever she was, saw my face and was appalled.

"Hey, Caleb," Jeanette snapped, jolting me from my reverie once again. She was standing at the threshold of the room, her arms crossed. "The girl needs help, don't just stand there gaping."

With a start, I quickly realized that the girl's body was crossed with scratches that marred her skin and seeped drops of blood. They were everywhere: on her arms, her legs, her neck—even the cloth of her jeans and shirt was torn and bloody.

I swallowed hard. "Then help her," I replied coolly. "I'll take care of the other two."

Jeanette rolled her eyes, but picked her way through the glass to the girl on the floor without commenting. Meanwhile, I whirled around to the other two. I winced as I did so, suddenly becoming aware of several glass shards that protruded from various places on my body. I pulled them out as I limped toward the chairs.

As the siblings (as I assumed they were) watched me, I stepped forward and wrapped both hands around the cuff that secured the girl's left wrist. With one deft movement, I twisted the metal until it became so thin in the center that it simply broke apart. I repeated the same ritual with the other three restraints, then moved on to the boy. It wasn't until I had freed them both completely that I noticed the incredulity painted across their features.

"What?" I snapped irritably.

The girl gaped, lifting her hands and marveling. "H-how did you do that?"

I shrugged. "I just did. Superhuman strength, I don't know."

Both of them sat there for a long moment after I was done, staring in near-disbelief at the metal bands I had torn like paper.

The pair gawked to the point of my discomfort, provoking me to turn away. I glanced at Jeanette, who had managed to get the second girl to her feet. There was no question that she was worse for wear than the other two, who, despite having scratches where the cuffs had bit into their wrists, were at least decidedly conscious. She, on the other hand, looked like she would pass out at any second.

But that didn't stop her from looking at me and saying, "I'm so glad you're here. I've gotta say, though, I didn't expect them to send you."

Confused—and concerned about her condition—I tilted my head. "You didn't expect who to send me?"

"Nessa. Perfecta. The Pro-Inferiors." She waved a weak hand. "They said they'd said someone to get us out of here. Isn't that you?" Now it was she who looked puzzled.

"No," I said slowly. "no one sent me anywhere. Jeanette and I"—I gestured to Jeanette, who was supporting all of the girl's weight—"found our way in here by accident. I don't know what you're talking about."

Her face suddenly fell. "D-Don't you know who I am, though?" she asked.

I shook my head, feeling uncomfortable. "No, I—I have no idea. Sorry." But even as I said those words, I knew they were a lie. Maybe I couldn't remember her name or her relation to me, but I did know her. I had known her.

"How would you?" the boy said scathingly, speaking from behind me. "It's probably near-impossible after they wiped your memories. I wonder if you'd even want to remember us, though. The choice you made suggests otherwise."

The boy's words confused me, but one thing registered in my mind. He knew about the memory wiping. If he did, then most likely, so did the others. Which meant that all three most likely knew me before I'd become a Superior.

If only I remembered them.

The other girl, who had red-streaked black hair, looked at me imploringly. "You don't remember us? Not at all?" She had stood up, and was now standing beside her chair with her hands clenched into fists.

I held up my hands in a shrug. "I don't, I—"

"Hey, shut up for a sec," Jeanette interrupted abruptly. "Hear that?"

I shushed everyone and listened carefully. At first I heard nothing—then I caught it. The sound was faint, probably fainter to normal ears, but grew steadily louder until it was easily recognizable.

Footsteps.

I cursed under my breath. "We've got to get out of here."

Jeanette nodded, but the other three just looked baffled and worried.

"Not without an explanation," the boy contended after a heartbeat. "Tell us what's going on."

"No time; get moving. If they get in, I can't protect all of you."

The boy crossed his arms. "Who's 'they'?"

"People, okay?" I was quickly getting fed-up with his attitude, no matter how familiar he seemed. "I'll explain on the way. But for god's sake, go!"

"No. Tell us, we go. Otherwise, we're staying right here."

"Trai," his sister warned.

Trai. The name immediately struck a cord in my mind. But as much as it pained me to do so, I shoved the thought away, banishing any stray memories before they could overwhelm me and make me lose focus.

Narrowing my eyes, I returned the boy's—Trai's—cold glare. He was angry, confused, and disappointed, among other emotions—I could read that much in his eyes. But most of all, he was determined. I could see that he was adamant to stand there until I gave in, even if it meant having his brains blown apart by Leary's hired guns.

"Okay, look," I said eventually, ignoring the look of satisfaction that crossed Trai's features, "I don't know who you are, any of you—and I'm sorry for that. Obviously you know who I am, and you know that I've had my memories wiped, and that I really can't remember anything about before. I'm sorry, okay? But I can't do anything about it, no matter how much I want to.

"There will be time for niceties and reintroductions later. Right now, there are armed guards outside, sent here by Dr. Leary. You all know him, right? They're angry because Jeanette and I are down here unauthorized. Oh, and in answer to your earlier question: no, I was not sent here by the Pro-Inferiors to save you. I was helping them, yes, but at the moment I'm just trying to get out of the Capitol before they blow it all up."

"Blow it up?" Trai's sister echoed.

"Yeah," I affirmed. "There are dozens of Pro-Inferiors running around beneath the city as we speak, laying bombs that will reduce this place to ashes. They're set to detonate at two o'clock. It's"—I glanced at my digital watch—"one twenty-seven right now. We have like thirty minutes, and the time's going to pass in a blink. If we don't move, and now, we're done for."

There was silence for a moment. Then the girl (whom I'd mentally dubbed 'Red') let out a harsh, hysterical laugh. "I knew it. They weren't going to save us," she spat. "They were going to leave us here to explode with the bombs." She laughed again and waved her fist at the ceiling. "Thank you, Nessa, for failing to inform us that you're planning to blow up the Capitol! I swear to god, if I ever see that woman again, I'll—"

"Plan your revenge another time," I snapped. "I explained, and now we're leaving."

As soon as those words left my mouth, there was deafening pound on the laboratory door. It appeared that Leary's guards had arrived, and they didn't have a key. How long that would detain them, though, I wasn't sure. We had to assume the worst.

"Go on," I urged frantically, ushering Trai and his sister out of the room. I turned to Jeanette, who was twisting under the weight of the brunette girl.

"I don't think she can walk," she informed me. It was true: the girl was leaning fully against Jeanette, and Jeanette, though taller than her, was not strong enough to support the girl's weight. Not only that, but the girl's eyes kept drifting shut. Even now, though she wasn't moving, beads of sweat were forming at her hairline and slipping down her face. Those symptoms couldn't just be from pain or loss of blood; there had to be another factor in effect.

As if reading my mind, Trai said, "Dr. Leary gave her some kind of immunity-inducing injection. He would have given it to all of us, but he got interrupted by the Pro-Inferiors. I don't know what it did, but it really messed her up."

"Yeah, I think she might have a fever," Jeanette said worriedly.

I spat out a curse. The pounding got louder.

"Fine, fine, minor setback. Give her to me; I'll carry her."

Jeanette passed the nearly-unconscious girl into my arms, and I awkwardly lifted her, putting one arm on her back and the other beneath her knees.

"I can carry her," Trai interjected.

I glanced at him. His expression was icy, his fingers twitching. "No, you can't. You're bleeding all over the place."

He barely looked at the cuts on his wrists and ankles. "So? You have a bullet in your stomach." I did a double take and saw him looking down at the tiny hole in my t-shirt.

"I'm fine," I insisted. "Now can we get out of here before someone ends up with a bullet in a more vital place? Like their brain?"

Trai still looked dissatisfied, but he didn't argue. I took that as grudging cooperation.

"Go right," I commanded, shifting the girl's weight in my arms. "There should be a door on the far wall. And hurry it up, would you?"

I urged the other three ahead of me, following them at a light jog as the pounding on the door turned to gunshots pelting metal. Then, quietly, a voice said, "Caleb, wait."

It took me a moment to realize that the words had been spoken by the girl I was holding. I had thought she'd passed out a while before.

"Not now," I hissed, not stopping.

She ignored me. "I know you don't remember me," she whispered, "but my name is Delaney."

Everything suddenly ground to a halt, including my feet. I stared down at the girl in disbelief, at her barely open eyes and fever-flushed cheeks. She was burning up.

I remembered, then, the conversation I'd had with Nessa only days before, when I'd first learned what Miracle and Dr. Leary had done to me. I remembered the question I'd asked her, just before she left the room.

Did I ever know someone named Delaney?

And I remembered her response.

No, Caleb. You've never known anyone named Delaney.

Had it been a lie?

I looked at the girl, Delaney, then glanced over my shoulder, where the barely-visible door was pocked with bullet indentations. There would be time to worry about whether or not Nessa had been lying when we were safe. But for now, Delaney expected an answer.

"That's great," I said, easily faking nonchalance. Delaney's face twisted in disappointment. Behind us, somewhere, the door creaked a warning.

"That's great," I repeated, my voice tighter this time, "but tell me more later, maybe. We've got to go." I hurried forward to catch up with the others, who were pulling open a big black door that led into tunneled darkness. And quietly, to myself, I added, "Because time is running out."

A/N: Before anyone says something... THERE IS NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN CALEB AND DELANEY. THERE HAS BEEN. THERE NEVER WILL BE. That is all.