Now Playing • Don't Let Me Down by The Chainsmokers
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𝟗:𝟓𝟓 𝐩𝐦 • 𝐋𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐕𝐚𝐧
There's clear pain behind my eyes, even though I don't say a word. His next words are even harder to swallow.
"Good, choosing the silence is the hardest part of the job. It's not 'staying put,' Addison. It's holding the line."
I stare at my Kindle. I don't scream or throw things, I simply stare. Ethan then says, "Luther, status."
"Electronic blackout for six blocks," Luther grunts. "The SUVs are dead in the water. We have exactly four minutes before their backup triangulates our last known heading based on tire friction and street cams. Ethan, we need to dump the van."
What he just said makes me look up. "Dump the van? This van?"
I look at both of them. I just got used to this space. "It's a beacon now, Addison," he replied, stepping into my line of sight–forcing me to look at him. "The EMP bought us a head start, but the moment the grid resets, this van is a giant 'X' on a digital map. We stay in here, we're sitting ducks."
"What about my mother? Are we gonna leave her to die... a second time?" I ask, my voice cracking a bit.
He steps closer, trying not to crowd me. "Addison, listen to me. We aren't leaving her. We're moving toward her. If we stay here and get caught, the Index is erased, and the only trail leading to her vanishes forever. Staying in this van isn't protecting her—it's letting them win."
𝟏𝟎 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 • 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬
Well, I trusted them and followed. For how long were we walking? That much seemed unclear to me. As we walk, every sound crashes into me like a ton of bricks. It's all too much, but I know we have to keep moving.
"Keep your eyes on my shoulder, Addison," Ethan says, without looking at me. "Focus on the rhythm of the walk. Four steps, breathe. Four Steps, breathe."
I do as told and focus on the rhythm of the walk instead of everything that is happening around me–while also clutching the very thing that could determine the path we take. I don't, however, notice my knuckles turning pale.
Suddenly, we stop. Almost too abruptly. "Why are we stopping? Ethan?"
Time was ticking and we were stopping which I don't understand. He looks at me, gesturing me to be silent. What is going on?
He's speaking into his ear-piece again. I stared at him, waiting for signal or something when our gazes lock. And then gently he says, "Addison, I need you to listen very carefully. The rhythm is about to change. We aren't walking anymore."
"What do you mean?"
Pointing up he says, "It means we're going up." Oh great, more unexpected stuff. Climbing up? oh boy. Wait, I have done this before with my dad, so I just nod.
Ethan tells me to go, grabbing the rung of the ladder. A ladder. A ladder. It's a muted metallic color. I am so not sure about this anymore.
"Don't look at the ground. Don't look at the men. Just look at the rust on the metal. Count the bolts. One by one."
He hoists me up, and that gives me somewhat of a momentum to keep going. "Keep climbing, Addison. Don't stop until you reach the sky."
𝟏𝟎:𝟒𝟒 𝐩𝐦 • 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐩
I did reach the top, the place where the sky and the atmosphere touch creating a blend of a painting. A beautiful painting. And I might be able to touch it, when I hear grunts and gunshots from below.
Peering from the edge I shout, "Ethan?"
A rifle, and it's pointed right at him. "Get back from the edge, Addison!" he finally yells back to me. "Count the bricks and stay low!"
Ethan pushed the guy off who pinned him against the ground and finally made it up. But the rifle-man didn't kill him, and thank god for that. I scrambled away so he could get up here. "Are you okay?" I ask just he informs Luther of our information and location.
"I'm fine," he said, getting up, well trying to sit upright.
I help him to do that after going up to him. Being near the vents was a little soothing from those gunshots. And I still refused to let go of my kindle.
"Are we not going to save my mom? Isn't that what you promised me?" I almost screamed at him.
"Hey.. hey.... we will but... first we need to get out of here, got it?"
His breathing was hard. And he seriously need to get his wounds checked out. He isn't fine. And I can tell.
𝟐 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 • 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭
Luther somehow managed to snag us an empty compartment on the train. I held onto my kindle, staring Ethan down for all I care. The train's movement almost felt like a cradle from my mother.
"I can feel you judging my 'I'm fine' statement from two hours ago," he says, like this is normal for him. Maybe it is. But it's not for me.
"They always say that before they collapse in the third act. I've read the scenes... far too many to know you are just pretending. And.. you are a bad liar, Ethan," I replied, eyeing him.
Leaning his head against the window of a moving train is certainly a choice. He knows I am right. No one in his condition is fine.
He says, "The third act usually involves a lot more fire. But I'll give you this: your pacing is better than most operatives I know," as he pulls out something from his jacket. A small Medical kit. Even though his fingers seem steady, they seem to shake.
He looks at me, and then my kindle which clutched within my grip. I set it down and say, "Let me help... Ethan. Cause maybe that's the only thing I'll ever get to do."
For awhile we stare at each other. Please Ethan, I beg you. Don't let me down.