Desolation ✔️

Chapter 27: Revealed

I can't see anything.

A blindfold shields my eyes and my arms are tied to cold metal at my sides, likely the arms of a chair. My captors didn't bother taping my mouth or gagging me; I guess they know there's no one in the area alive to help. The world is dead.

Footsteps echo on tile coupled with rattling chains and groans; a few incoherent voices. The smell of death overpowers, but there's also a hint of bleach and antiseptics. My mom worked in a hospital; not all these scents are entirely new to me.

"You're such a good girl," a voice says nearby. The voice unmistakably belongs to the man with white hair and dark eyes. Metals clanks nearby and I freeze. My heart hammers. Breathe. Despite being on the verge of a panic attack, I can't freak out. There's gotta be a way out of this...

Someone tugs the blindfold off me in a swift but harsh movement. Light floods my vision and my eyes blur from the tight binding, so I have to blink my surroundings into focus.

Fluorescent lights overhead. A few Hazmats armed with guns lining the walls—all eyes on me. To the left is a whole wall with cages...for the undead. Sickly gray arms reach through the bars but a collar on their necks tugs them back. More cages at my right...but these are filled with people. My heart stops when I realize they're all lying on the floor of their cages unmoving.

Except for the one closest to the wall near the Hazmats. His body is curled into a ball, dark clothing torn and smeared with blood and his dark hair messy and damp. His chest still rises and falls but his current state is unnerving. My heart collapses on itself.

Ash...

"He wouldn't cooperate, so his current state is only a punishment for his actions. You must understand that."

I meet the man's cold, dark eyes. He wears a satisfied smile, completely content with the situation. I want to smack that smile right off his face. My throat is scratchy and dry from so much screaming and crying, but I muster what I can. "Is he...?"

"Dead? Oh, of course not." His grin widens. "Yet."

"You can't kill him!" I spit at the man. I tug on my restraints, but the hard metal cuts into my wrists and leaves several painful bruises. "I won't let you."

"Ah, well the choice isn't up to you, is it?"

I glare daggers. "What do you want from us? We didn't do anything! Why are you collecting the dead? How did you find me? And I'll ask again...what did you do to Carter?"

The man folds his hands behind his back and tilts his head to the side. "Questions, questions, so many questions. I'll answer one. Choose wisely."

I try kicking my feet, but they're restrained, too. My chair is the only one in the center of the large room we're in, and it's nailed to the floor. Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. Think clearly...stay calm... I inhale slowly and stop fighting my restraints. "How do you know me?"

"Wise choice. Easy answer: You're number twelve."

Number twelve? "That doesn't answer—"

"It's my turn to ask a question. Does...PSCC ring a bell?"

I remain silent.

"Of course it does. It should. You, Miss Scarlett Evans, weren't even chosen to be part of the convention. How sad is that?"

Heat burns in the core of my chest. I shift my eyes to the pocket of his lab coat where a pen is hooked. It's not much, but if I could just get my hands on it...