“Don’t you want to ask what the invite was for?”
Carver forced himself to stand, leaving Clara at his feet. He couldn’t get her out with these soldiers at his back. Best to face them head on and protect her while he still could. “What was the invite for?” His voice sounded flat even to his own ears.
Again, the man grinned. Feral. “To see who would be brave enough, or foolish enough as it turns out, to attempt and steal from us.”
Carver gaped, wanting to throw up a defense. All of the plans were foreseen. They were expected. “You got further than we expected, actually. That girl of yours, she’s bloody brilliant. Tougher than we expected. And now, you’ve reached the end. Thank you for showing us the weaknesses in our labs. We appreciate it.”
The man snapped his fingers and guards stepped forward in unison. Carver didn’t even have a weapon to lash out at them. He stepped over Clara’s body, determined to do something, anything. The man froze before he left, “Take her to the creature labs. With the loss of her arms, she’ll be a perfect candidate for our new bio engineering program.”
Carver yelled, standing his ground even as the soldiers came within feet of him. “Kill the boy.”
One of the soldiers lifted his gun and fired.
Carver woke up, completely soaked in sweat and panicking. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. He was certain he had been screaming. His throat felt raw, and he was surprised Clara hadn’t shaken him awake or wasn’t glaring at him from the edge of her bed.
A sickening feeling crept into his gut. Clara. He scrambled off of his mat, his feet tangling in his blanket. He tripped and crashed into the edge of the bed before he was able to righthimself. “Clara?” He didn’t bother to whisper or be quiet. He needed to hear her voice, needed the reassurance that she was okay.
There was no response. He saw her hands falling. He saw the blood pouring from the stumps. Her falling to her knees and passing out. “Clara!”
He threw open the bathroom door. She wasn’t there. He flipped on the light in the room. Her bed was empty and her shoes were gone. “No, no, no.” He groaned. Where would she have gone in the middle of the night?
He slipped his own shoes on as he rushed down the stairs, not bothering to tie the laces. Maybe she was only in the kitchen? Maybe she had gone for a walk and was getting back? The adrenaline from the dream still flowed through his veins, and even if those were the more likely options, his body was still telling him that something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Clara was in danger.
She wasn’t in the kitchen. He rushed out the back door, forgetting to close it as he surveyed the alley. No sign of her. “Carver?” Marsh shouted from the doorway.
He turned, barely even registering her frame. “It’s Clara. She’s not here. She’s in danger.”
“You don’t know that. She probably just went for a walk. I’m sure she’s fine. Come back inside.” Marsh yawned, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I can’t come back inside. She’s in danger. I know it.” He paced back and forth through the alley. Where would she have gone? Where could he look?
“Even if she is in danger, you have no idea where she is. Go back to bed, and I’m sure she’ll be back by morning. She’s tough, remember? She doesn’t need your protection.”
The man’s words from his dream resounded through his head, renewing fear within him. They knew Carver and Clara were here. Somehow that man knew.
Carver knew he wasn’t being entirely logical. He couldn’t even prove that man was a real person. He had been having nightmares for years, and none had come to fruition. He had no evidence that this one was different. But it felt different. Somehow. He knew that something was wrong.
“I have to try and find her.” He emphatically responded.
He started at the bar. No sign of her inside. It was late enough that a lot of the patrons had cleared out already. He stopped the bartender and described Clara, hoping that maybe he had seen her. There had been no sign of her.
Where else? He walked through the town square, a few drunk groups stumbling and laughing here and there. The shops had closed up, and the stage was now entirely empty. No sign of Clara.
He exhaled heavily, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He slowly spun in a circle, surveying the area and trying to think where else could she go.
No. No. She wasn’t stupid enough to try and steal the vials on her own. No way. Was she? His heart sank. Maybe not stupid enough, but she was stubborn enough, and sometimes those two went together. He exhaled, trying to shake the anxiety grasping at his chest, and sprinted across the town square to reach the edge of the alleys.
He crept along the forest line, pausing behind the trees that were big enough to hide his body so he could listen for any noise.
He was close enough to see the guards, and silently laid on his stomach so he could watch them without being noticed. Nothing seemed wrong. Everything seemed like it was okay.
The guards were talking quietly, looking thoroughly bored with their evening. Carver couldn’t blame them. Guarding anelectronically guarded door frame in the middle of the night must have felt like a pointless assignment.
He tried to see behind them, desperately wishing he had binoculars. He couldn’t spot anything out of order. His heart rate slowed, and he started thinking maybe Marsh was right. Clara did like to expend energy through exercise. Maybe she couldn’t sleep, and so she went for a run. She was probably back already, and her and Marsh were mocking him for his over protectiveness.
Yeah, that was what would happen. He’d get back, they’d be in the kitchen with tea, and he’d get laughed at. He’d pretend to be frustrated at their laughter, but truly, he would enjoy every minute of it because it would mean that Clara was safe and his nightmare was just a dream.
