Lilly
Ididn’t pack any bags.
I didn’t grab any clothes, any toiletries, or anything at all.
Hell, I didn’t even move from my bed.
Perhaps this was just stupid defiance, but with guards posted on my balcony and outside my door and with my father running around the house, commanding his men to be ready, I thought that the best form of protest was to do nothing. Not to flee, not to prepare, but to just not do anything. I had no idea if it would work.
A few times, I stood on my bed and looked out the window facing toward downtown Springsville. Somewhere out there... maybe Cole was still alive. Maybe he was injured, but coping. Maybe he had…
Maybe he was dead.
No. Cole wouldn’t die that easily.
And what makes you think that? You don’t know him. You haven’t seen him in battle. You’re just making blind wishes.
Damnit…
Each time that I had that thought run through my head, an acknowledgment that I didn’t know what had happened and had no basis for thinking, I just slumped back down to my bed, now unable to do anything. Eventually, I would regain the strength to “do something,” and in feeling that way, I would actively refuse to get ready.
The third time I stood up and looked out my window, a knock came at my door. I ignored it.
“I know you’re in there, Lilly,” my father said from the other side. “I’m not going to barge in because I assume you are getting prepared, but we leave here in fifteen minutes.”
I almost said “OK,” but even that felt like I was giving my father too much of a response, so I just kept my mouth shut and turned my eyes back to Springsville. It wasn’t much from here; no one would ever mistake this small town for Los Angeles or even, say, Long Beach. But all of the individual places, from Bottle Revolution to Mama Sue’s to even small places like the government buildings or the park or the hiking trails... I’d never get to see them again.
It wasn’t like I had sentimental attachments to any of them individually. But collectively—
A fireball went up about four miles south. Seconds later, the sound of an explosion reached the windows, followed by several of the men at my father’s house yelling expletives.
“Reapers!”
“They’ve attacked the clubhouse!”
“Get ready!” my father yelled.
“Sir! Reports state there’s about twenty of them heading this way!”
Is Cole among them?I couldn’t believe that thought crossed my mind. Even if Cole was, there was no guarantee how he’d react upon seeing me. Maybe he’d think me being back here was a sign I’d betrayed him. Maybe—
CRACK!
I jumped as the door to my bedroom splintered open. My father’s foot retreated, and his hand reached into the hole and opened it up.
“What are you doing?!?”
“There’s no time!” he said. “The Reapers are coming here and they’ll be here any minute. It’s too late for us to flee.”
“What are you doing?!?” I repeated, now more fearful than angry.
“Keep your mouth shut,” my father said as he firmly grabbed me by the hand and dragged me away.
I screamed for him to let me go, but he ignored me, pulling me with the kind of strength I realized now he had never before had to use on me. Now that I was in his grip, not only was there no escape, trying to escape would just get me hurt more. Realizing I had no choice, I followed him downstairs, keeping my head low as the guards got in position.
He led me through the main atrium, down the hall, and paused just at a spot between the bathroom and one of the memorabilia rooms. He pressed something on the thermostat, and seconds later, a part of the wall pulled back and shifted to the side.
“What the hell—”
