47. Merle
Merle
Isurge up past Raptor and grab control, whirling and flinging us through corridors and doors and past huge metal beasts of dead machinery. None of it matters. I just need to get outside.
Running. My superpower is running. I can save us.
I can save Pix, I just need to run fast enough.
My heart is going to explode. Pix is in trouble, he was watching them. It was live, and they are going to hurt…him.
He found them, of course, he did, he was always going to find them. Father knows everything.
There was no hope, no winning against him, no fighting.
There is only running.
“Merelee!” he calls and laughs. That evil laugh echoes around and around the factory until I have no idea where it came from.
I let out an involuntary squeak and run faster, darting back the way I came. I get lost in the maze of skeletal machinery.
Confused and turned around.
My panic grows until my breath is sawing in and out of me.
“Run, little girl, run. You have been very bad, and it’s time for you to be punished.”
Panic slices through me, stabbing me in the chest until I think I’m having a heart attack. My shoulders curl, and my vision gets dots. I pant, sucking in air that does satiate my starving lungs.
Tears run down my cheeks, I grip my hair and turn in a circle, trying to work out which way to go. I’m so confused. So lost.
“Merelee!” he says sharply. “Run!”
I scream and bolt in any direction. I just move.
He laughs long and loud.
I run until I’m covered in sweat and bruises and exhausted.
I run straight into the arms of his most reliable devotee. Over his shoulder, I see the night sky and those storm clouds.
In my mind, I see King’s gentle smile as he brushes back my hair.
Blaze dancing with his dao, spinning with so much grace.
Sage grinning wickedly as he sticks another of those bobble-head toys up, knowing it will irritate Blaze.
Rolly and his enthusiastic emotions. Pix and his eyes that hold shadows like mine, and Roseland watching me like he’s waiting. What is he waiting for?
I was so close.
Brian is a beta who loves to hurt people as much as Father does.
He has a thick neck and the visage of a monster.
His scarred and pockmarked skin does little to hide the cruel and too-wide eyes; they always look like they are bulging.
His lips are grotesquely large, and his beard grows patchy and wispy.
He’s got muscles on muscles, and he is strong.
I once saw him crush a man’s head just with the strength in his fists.
Brian is a monster, but he’s Father’s monster. A trained and reliable lapdog that is eager to please and attack on call.
He holds me by the throat, squeezing so tight it’s hard to inhale, as he walks me away from the night sky and the stars that are so close.
“Father is waiting for you.”
I tremble and give up my hold on the body.
There’s nothing I can do to save us now.