Chapter Eight
Gemma pressed the button behind her head and closed her eyes as she lowered her arms to her sides. A soft, mechanical whirr resonated.
She winced as the needles jammed into their proper deltoids, then the blue liquid flushed into her system. A chill ran through her body. The chamber brightened around her until Gemma had to cover her eyes to protect them.
A wet, whooshing noise caught her off guard. She’d only heard that sound in optics from Earth. There’s no way . . .
Gemma uncovered her eyes. Her jaw dropped.
She stood on what she’d learned was called a beach, staring out over an expanse of deep-blue water that foamed white as it hit sand. Squawks of birds sang from above, and the salty smell of the sea filled Gemma’s lungs.
She couldn’t help the grin spreading across her cheeks as she stepped forward, the sand crackling beneath her feet. A breathy chuckle escaped her.
“Are y’all seeing this?” Alfie said from Gemma’s right.
She turned her head. Her teammates stood next to her on the beach, but instead of gray jumpsuits, they now wore black military gear like the guards who had stood in front of the elevators when they’d arrived at Zion.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” the same feminine voice from their optic spoke.
Gemma turned to her left where their ebony-skinned guide now walked toward them, barefoot and dressed in a flowy white gown. She was ethereal.
“To be able to feel, see, and smell a place from another world is an experience you’ll never forget.” She waved her hand, and tall, purple grass surrounded them now.
The smell in the air was flowery—heavenly.
Gemma had smelled flowers only once before, when she’d been lucky enough to procure a cube of expensive soap from off-world.
She’d used it as a scenter in her wardrobe until she was fired from the infirmary and had run out of money.
She’d been forced then to use it as actual soap, and she’d sobbed the first time the cube got wet.
Flowers were definitely one of her favorite smells.
To their backs were ruins of what had to have been a cozy little village. The roofs of the structures had collapsed, but some walls still stood, and a gated stone wall provided entry. It was eerily beautiful.
“Not gonna lie, I’m starting to freak out a little,” Imara said.
Their guide smiled. “This is where I leave you. Each of you must pass this test in order for your team to win. If one falls, all fail.”
“What’s our objective?” Hawk’s face was tight in confusion.
The optic smiled again. “Survive.”
The flowery smell disappeared, replaced by the scents of smoke and decay. The sky above was no longer bright and blue but hazy, as if the world knew it was on fire. Gunfire reverberated from every direction.
Gemma’s stomach sank.
“What do we do?” Alfie asked. “She said ‘survive.’ What does that mean?”
Gemma spun slowly, surveying their surroundings. The purple grass was now gone, replaced by its scorched remains. The village no longer held a beauty to them but was rotted and worn. Death had severed their ties to the world with a serrated blade.
A battle cry echoed from the distance.
“Anybody else hear that?” Gemma asked.
Her teammates paused, turning to face the direction of the noise.
The air glitched, like out of place pixels on an electroglass screen. Then men and women in brown military uniforms with orange symbols painted on their chests suddenly appeared, sprinting toward them.
Gemma recognized the design immediately. It was the letter “D” from old American sign language.
It was the mark of the Dissent.
Bile churned in her stomach. This was Rami stirring up hatred for his enemy. He wanted his soldiers to hate the Dissent, to eliminate the Dissent. But if Gemma wasn’t here right now, she’d be on that side. The side that ran in her direction, brandishing weapons and fighting for freedom.
Those were her people.
Her eyes burned. This is a simulation, Gemma. Just get through it.
“There’s cover behind us,” Christian yelled. “Move!”
Imara, Hawk, and Colton were quick to obey, but Alfie stood motionless, staring straight at the Dissent soldiers.
Gemma sprinted to him, grabbing his arm. “Alfie, let’s go. Now!”
Alfie didn’t move. His dark face paled as he stared wide-eyed at the small army barreling toward them.
Gemma smacked Alfie hard across the face.
He toppled sideways, yelping, and pressed a hand against his cheek. He gawked at Gemma.
“Run!” she yelled, and this time, he nodded. They bolted to where their teammates had crouched behind the stone wall of the village.
“What do we do now?” Imara asked.
There was a short pause before Christian and Hawk were on their feet, hurrying through the few small, single-roomed buildings that remained. Loud bangs sounded every time they kicked open a door, and with every strike of their foot, Gemma’s breath caught.
Please, please, please find a clue.
“In here!” Christian shouted from a short distance away.
Gemma and all but Alfie hurried to where Christian stood in the middle of a decimated dwelling. He unzipped two large, black bags and pulled out several supplies, including firearms.
“Praise the stars,” Hawk sighed, reaching into one of the bags and loading himself up with weapons like he’d been in battle one hundred times. “Guess all that VR training will come in handy, after all.”
Gemma raised an eyebrow. Glad he’s on our side.
Christian pushed long, black guns at Gemma, Imara, and Colton.
The three of them stared at him, delicately holding their weapons like they would explode. His jaw flexed, but he handed each of them a pair of metal tubes full of bullets.
“I take it none of you have used a rifle before,” Christian said.
They shook their heads.
He lifted his and pointed it away from them to demonstrate how to use it.
“This is your safety, your trigger, your magazine. You saw how I put this in. When it’s empty, you hit this to pop out the magazine, then you take a fresh one and stick it in.
Pull this to cock it. Aim and squeeze the trigger to fire. Got it?”
“Not really,” Imara replied.
Christian strapped a dagger to his leg. “Good enough. Just don’t point them at each other. And make sure your safety is off when you step out to shoot. Ready?”
“Let’s go,” Hawk said, leading the charge.
The Dissent members had already started leaping over the stone wall.
Alfie crawled away, shrieking and trying to cover his head. Christian and Hawk immediately jumped into action, shooting round after round into their enemies as they found cover to stand behind.
Gemma watched them and tried to mimic their stances. They were both really good. Hawk said he’d used VR, but how had Christian learned to shoot? Did Perileos even have a place for weapon or gun training?
She shook the thoughts from her head. Time to go, Gemma.
She sucked in a deep breath before stepping out, pointing her rifle at one of the Dissent members. Stars, forgive me. Her whole face scrunched in pain as she squeezed the trigger.
Click.
“Blast!” Gemma snapped as she braced behind cover again. She’d forgotten to release the bloody safety. Her heart flipped as she flicked it off. She took a deep breath. We got this.
Gemma stepped into the line of fire once more and pointed her rifle at the Dissent army.
A bullet whooshed past Gemma’s head. She yelped, tumbling sideways onto the ground.
“You good?” Christian yelled from across the street.
“Oh, yeah. Just great.” Gemma crawled back behind her cover before getting up onto her feet. This shooting people thing is ridiculous.
Hawk was amazing at short range, using the bodies of the fallen as protection as he moved from cover to cover. Christian stayed back near Gemma, his rifle snapping up and down in quick, fluid movements. Never once did he miss a shot.
Gemma couldn’t see Imara or Colton, but at least they hadn’t managed to go sailing into the dirt like her.
Minutes later, the battle was over.
“Everyone okay?” Hawk asked when the five of them regrouped at the gate. Resounding yeses followed.
“I even managed to get in a head shot.” Imara smiled smugly.
“Where’s Alfie?” Christian asked.
Gemma’s stomach fell. How did she not notice one of their teammates was missing?
She furrowed her brow. The last time she’d seen him, he crawled along the stone wall, away from the action. Gemma hurried in the direction he’d gone.
Alfie sat on the ground, leaning back against the stone wall. Crying, he grasped his upper leg tightly with both hands.
Oh no. Gemma pushed her rifle into someone’s arms and sprinted the rest of the way to him.
“What happened?” she asked, dropping to her knees to assess him. His dark skin had drastically paled.
“Freaking loitersack cut me,” Alfie gasped.
Gemma looked up at Christian and held out her hand. “Your knife?”
In seconds, the hilt was in her palm. She sliced open Alfie’s trousers’ leg, stopping inches below where he was putting pressure.
The wound was inside his upper leg. Not good.
“How long ago did this happen?” Gemma asked Alife.
He shook his head. “I dunno. Maybe a minute? I think he was one of the last people y’all killed.”
Blood trickled down Alfie’s leg from under his hands. Gemma knew she was taking a big risk by asking him to release some pressure, but she had to know exactly where he’d been cut.
“I need to see it,” she said.
Alfie nodded and lifted his hands.
It was like someone had turned on a sink at full blast. Blood spurted out of him, coating his skin red.
Gemma might as well have been stabbed in her own heart.
She clamped her hand down over the wound, putting her entire body weight onto Alfie’s leg, trying to stifle the bleeding.
“I need someone’s belt and then something sturdy like a stick or–or–or a twisted shirt,” Gemma said. “Something I can use as a tourniquet.”
Imara handed her an empty magazine, and Hawk passed his belt to Gemma, having beaten Christian in the race to see who could disrobe faster.
In seconds, Gemma had the tourniquet over Alfie’s artery, inches above the bullet wound. Using the belt, she twisted it into place, cutting off the circulation from Alfie’s heart.
He cried out in immense pain before fainting.
Gemma pressed her fingers to the arteries of his neck, wrists, and ankles. He was alive, but barely. His pulse was so weak.
She wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of a blooded hand. “We need to get him out of this simulation alive if we’re going to pass, right? How in the blazes are we going to do that?”
“Well, what’s our next step?” Imara asked.
Colton stood amongst dead Dissent bodies and waved a bloodied piece of cloth that he must’ve taken from inside one of their vests. “Seems our overlords left us a message. It’s an old game from Earth: ‘Capture the Flag.’ Kind of cliché, but whatever.”
“Well, look who finally decided to help,” Imara drawled, flapping her arms in annoyance.
Colton worked his way toward them. “Hey, while you lot were tending to that waste of space, I actually found our objective. So, a thanks would be nice.”
“Never gonna happen.”
Hawk held up his hands, silencing them. “Okay, so it’s ‘Capture the Flag.’ What does that mean exactly?”
Colton stuck the cloth in his pocket. “It means we leave this loser behind and hope he doesn’t die.”