The Collective

Chapter Eighteen

     I moaned. My head hurt, but that wasn't anything new. My eyebrow was all sticky. I tilted my head towards my shoulder. The floor dropped out from under me. I snapped to attention. The room around me slowly came into focus. Ethan was tied to a chair across from me. I cringed. He looked worse than he did the first time.

     "Ethan?" My voice sounded alien to my own ears.

     "Hey, uh-uh," Max tapped my face. "I do the talking here."

     I jerked away from him, the pain in my eye flaring up at the sight of the gun. I shook it off. Probably not the most important thing right now. Except for Max had it, and he was driving into Ethan's head.

     "Leave him alone." My voice came out a little more normal.

     "There she is. I thought that would wake you up." He slipped his gun into his blazer. He looked really nice.

     "Max, leave her alone." Ethan rasped. "I don't know anything."

     Max stalked towards me. He hung on the back of my chair. "All I wanted to do was kill her. I swore I never wanted to see you again, but he wouldn't shut up about you. You destroyed him." He stood up. He unrolled a leather case. A variety of surgical and garden tools lied on it. He picked up a pair of pliers. "You wouldn't give me what I want. And then, I started thinking, what if I just take away everything he loves? Give him a taste of his own medicine."

     Ethan strained against the zip ties. "Max, stop! Don't you touch her!"

     Max pressed the pliers against the corner of my mouth. I forced myself to hold Ethan's gaze. I wanted to tell him I understood, that it was okay. This wasn't his fault. None of this was his fault.

     "You have something I need, and now, I have something you want." Max pried my mouth open. "What's it gonna be, lover boy?"

     I gripped the chair with both hands, gagging on the taste of the metal. I shook my head, trying to dislodge them, but Max wasn't having it. He grabbed a handful of my hair, forcing my head back. His voice brushed against my ear. "I don't want to hurt you. Tell him to give me the codes." He pulled the pliers out, shoving my head forward.

     I coughed, dry heaving. I dragged myself up, staring at the back of Max's head. "Bullshit."

     He froze, turned towards me. "I'm sorry?"

     I spit, desperate to get rid of the metallic taste. "Bull. Shit. You've wanted me dead since the day we met. Even if he tells you, you're gonna kill me anyway."

     Max barked out a laugh. He pulled a knife off the leather. He eased it out of the sheath. He knelt down, pressed the blade against my face. "Did Ethan ever tell you what he was planning behind my back? Did he ever tell you how badly he wanted to watch the world burn? Because, Ethan knows best, doesn't he? Never mind the fact hundreds of millions of people are going to die. No, this is what needs to happen to fix things." He plunged the knife into the table.

     "Max..." Ethan's voice cracked.

     Max whipped towards him. He swung the gun into his head. "She needs to hear this. Stop. Talking." He stalked towards me. "He doesn't love you. He can't. He wants it all, life, love and the pursuit of happiness, to end." He lowered the gun, desperation sparking in his expression. "You're the only one who can help me."

     I shrank under his gaze, shivering.

     His eyes glinted. He leveled the gun at my head. "Give me the codes, Ethan, or she dies."

     Max screamed. The gun dropped from his hand. He gripped his shoulder. He stumbled towards the door, knife sticking out of his back.

     I exhaled slowly, as the pressure in my chest let up.