Chapter 69 The Blood on the Concrete
The woman’s head snapped back. A small, dark hole appeared right between her eyes. She didn't even have time to scream. Her body slumped over the steering wheel, and the car horn began to wail, a long, flat note that sounded like a funeral bell.
"Down!" Kael yelled.
He tackled me to the wet pavement just as a second bullet whizzed over our heads. It hit a streetlamp behind us, showering us in sparks and broken glass. The rain was coming down harder now, washing the woman's blood off the car door and into the gutter.
"They’re not letting us go," I wheezed, my heart thumping against the ground. "Even out here, in the real world, they’re still writing the ending."
"It’s not the company," Kael said, his golden eyes scanning the rooftops. "The shots are coming from the prison."
I looked up at the high-security tower across the street. The man in the orange jumpsuit, the one who looked like my father, was gone from the window. In his place, I saw the long, thin barrel of a sniper rifle poking through the bars.
"My father wouldn't shoot us," I said, though my voice shook. "He wouldn't."
"That’s not your father, Eara," Kael said. He grabbed my hand, and I felt the warmth of his new, golden power. "That’s the original 'Lead.' The man they based all the villains on. If he’s in that prison, he’s not the victim. He’s the boss."
Another shot rang out. This one hit the pavement an inch from my foot.
"Run!" Kael pulled me up.
We sprinted away from the car, ducking behind a row of trash bins. My mind was spinning. Everything the woman had said before she died was a lie, or a trap. If my father was a monster, then my whole life was built on a mistake. My revenge was aimed at the wrong people.
"We have to get into that prison," I panted. "I need to see his face. I need to know the truth."
"It’s a fortress, Eara," Kael warned. "And my power is fading. The real world doesn't like my code. I’m leaking."
I looked at his arm. He was right. Small bits of gold light were flaking off his skin like dry paint, vanishing into the rain. If he ran out of energy, he’d go back to being a program, or worse, he’d disappear forever.
"Then we move fast," I said.
I looked at the silver pen I still held. It was the only thing I had brought from the other side. I looked at the metal gate of the prison. It was covered in sensors and cameras.
"Kael, can you talk to the gate?" I asked.
"I can try. But it’ll take everything I have left."
He placed his hand on the keypad. The gold light flowed from his fingers into the machine. The sensors began to blink wildly. For a second, the heavy iron bars groaned and slid open just enough for us to squeeze through.
Kael fell to his knees, his skin turning grey and dull. "Go," he gasped. "I’ll hold the gate."
"I’m not leaving you!"
"You have to! If you don't find the truth now, we’ll never be free. They’ll just keep writing us into new boxes. Go kill the story, Eara!"
I hated it. I hated leaving him behind again. But I knew he was right. I turned and ran into the dark courtyard of the prison. The searchlights swung across the wet concrete, missing me by inches.
I found a side door and jammed the silver pen into the lock. The metal hissed and clicked. I burst inside, finding myself in a long, white hall. It looked exactly like the labs at Loom Media.
"Subject 702 detected," a voice boomed over the speakers.
It wasn't a computer. It was a human voice. A voice I knew.
"Hello, daughter."
I froze. At the end of the hall, a door opened. My father stepped out. He wasn't wearing an orange jumpsuit anymore. He was wearing a clean, white suit. He looked healthy. He looked powerful. And in his hand, he held a remote control that looked exactly like the one the lead designer had used.
"You did well," he said, walking toward me. "The 'escape' was the best footage we've had in years. The fans are crying. The stocks are up."
"You... you’re in charge?" I whispered. My stomach felt like it was full of ice. "The prison... the suffering... it was all yours?"
"Loom Media was my company, Eara," he said with a small, proud smile. "I needed a star. And who better than my own flesh and blood? You have the best emotional range."
I felt a scream building in my throat. Every nightmare, every death, every time I had cried for him, he had been watching it like a movie. He had been counting the money.
"I’m going to kill you," I said, my voice deathly quiet.
"With what? A pen?" he laughed. "I’m your father, Eara. You can't kill the one who gave you life."
He pressed a button on the remote.
Behind me, the floor opened up. I didn't fall into a pit of fire. I fell into a room filled with water. But it wasn't water. It was a thick, clear gel.
I struggled to swim, but the gel was too heavy. I looked through the glass walls of the tank. My father was standing there, looking at me like I was a fish in a bowl.
But he wasn't alone.
A shadow moved behind him. A tall, thin man with a bone-white face and no eyes.
"The Buyer is here, Eara," my father said, his voice muffled by the glass. "And he doesn't want a story. He wants a transplant."
The blind man reached out and touched the glass. The tank began to hum, and I felt my very soul being pulled toward his fingertips.
Suddenly, the glass didn't break. It turned into a mirror.
I didn't see my reflection. I saw Kael. He was standing on the other side of the world, screaming.
"Eara! Look at the floor!"
I looked down through the clear gel. At the bottom of the tank, under my feet, was a body.
It was me. The real Eara. Dead, cold, and preserved in the gel.
I wasn't the girl. I was just the memory they had put into a new body.
"Which one are you?" the blind man asked, his voice echoing inside my head.
The tank began to fill with black ink.