The Immune

27. Sacrifices

I've barely stood up when I hear the door slide open behind me. I spin around to see Hartley in the frame, Isaac trapped in a headlock. His chest rises and falls quickly; his eyes sit wide open panic. Fear courses through the both of us— Hartley has a gun pressed against his temple.

"Hello, sweetheart," Hartley coos. "Did you finish watching your videos?" I step backwards towards the glass door, ignoring him. "I'm being rhetorical. I know you did; we were watching from next door."

My eyes lock on Isaac. He's gone still, but his jaw clenches as he grits his teeth. How in the world did Isaac lose a fight with Hartley? He just took down a man four times his size.

Hartley inches closer to me; the glass door presses against my back. I feel the doorknob, the keypad, my escape. But how am I going to get Isaac from him? What's the code, first?

"Now that you know what happens to people that fight back, do you still feel like rebelling?"

I slowly and hesitantly nod. I can't stop now. I've made it too far.

He tsks at me. "Too bad. I guess it's time to meet your consequences then." He presses the gun deeper into Isaac's skin and moves his finger to the trigger. "Any last words for your boyfriend, here?"

I trace the buttons on the keypad with my fingers, placing the numbers mentally. They're soft and worn, waiting. The code won't be Mandy's birthday. Not again.

I run what I just learned through my head. Dad's still on my side, even though I originally thought he wasn't. He wants me to destroy the second strand. So, he wouldn't make this too hard. It's got to be something I know and Hartley doesn't.

"Yeah, I do," I blurt out, looking back at Hartley. "When's my birthday?"

A look of confusion crosses his face. My fingers start typing the digits in.

"How in the world would I know when your birthday is?" he asks, scowling.

"Haven't you been listening in on all of my birthday parties? Or is it just campfires that interest you?"

He smirks. "You're feeling brave, aren't you?" I wince as he squeezes Isaac, forcing him forward. "Why should I know your birthday?"

If I'm right about this, Hartley can't follow me in. I have to be right. There's no other choice.

"You shouldn't," I mutter, pressing the last button with a trembling finger.

1202

The lock emits a loud beep, and the door slides open behind me. I grip the handle and duck into the room as Hartley aims for me. A bullet lodges itself in the glass as the door slams shut again. My feet take me back a few steps, away from the rage on his face.

In one furious movement, Hartley throws Isaac to the ground and rushes to the door. He jerks at the handle, slams random numbers into the keypad, and bangs on the glass. Nothing happens. Finally, he straightens up and glowers at me.

"What's the code?" he hisses. The glass muffles his voice.

"When's my birthday?" A nervous smirk creeps up on my face.

"I don't know!"

"Well, that's the code."

He explodes, slamming his fists into the glass again. Face red, he turns to Isaac, pointing the gun at him.

"When's her birthday, Montez?" he shouts. I trip over my feet running back to the door— one hand on the handle, the other plastered against the glass.

"I— I don't know." Isaac's eyes dart between me and the gun, wide and panicked. They mirror the fear he showed in the basement, when he saw the Infected behind me. My stomach does a flip so intense that I think I might puke.