My eyes open to complete and utter darkness. I’m sitting on a hard, cold surface. At first I have a difficult time standing up and I can’t get my balance. Well, I thought it was completely dark until I see the faint glow of a light. I reach my arms out, trying to find my way to the light. Suddenly, there is a wall in front of me -no, not a wall- but a door. The light is coming in through a small, square window. I look out the window and everything is white: white walls, white floor, and a white ceiling. For as far as I can see, there are no other rooms, no other doors, nothing. Only a faintly lit, empty hallway.
I scour the door up and down, side to side; until I find a handle. I twist and push - that doesn’t work. I twist and pull - that still doesn’t work. You have to be kidding me. Now I’m screaming, hitting, and kicking at the door. I swear I look like an angry chimpanzee. The next thing I know I’m sitting on the floor crying my eyes out. There has to be a way out. Someone has to know that I'm in here. Why is it so dark? I decide to be more productive to figuring out my escape then just sitting on the floor. So, I search the room for a light source, maybe even a light switch. My hands can touch the ceiling if I stand on my tiptoes. Walking to the middle of the room, with my hands above my head, I find a light bulb. Yes! So there has to be a switch somewhere. My hands are out in front of me, once again, and I’m feeling every inch of these walls, as fast as I can.  I start by the door, feeling around the door frame. There’s nothing there. Minutes, possibly hours, go by, and I still have found nothing. Once again, I find myself hitting and screaming in frustration. Finally, I hear a raspy voice from somewhere. It can’t be from my room. I searched everywhere.
“There’s no switch. The lights come on about every six hours for maybe thirty minutes.” Female. It’s a girl.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Someone who has been here for a long time. I’m Sarah,” she says this all in one tone.
“Aria. Nice to meet you,” Then the lights came on.
I am having a hard time adjusting my eyes to the sudden brightness. Once I do, I look for the owner of the voice I heard. I see a small woman, maybe in her late thirties. She has long brown hair and her eyes are a sharp, crystal blue, just like me. She looks alert, but very tired and worn out. Next, I look at myself. I’m clothed in a thin, white gown and my hands and feet are bare. Strangely, I feel clean - like I just recently showered.
When was the last time I showered? What did I last eat? What day is it? Why can’t I remember anything? Suddenly my life flashes in front of me like a movie. My name is Aria Rose Davis. I am seventeen years old. My birthday is November 9. The last thing I can remember is that I was walking down the street heading home from the store and then everything went black. I know that my parents disappeared when I was a baby, too little to remember them. I can’t seem to remember any of the small memories.
I must look confused because Sarah says, “You’ll be like that for a while,” I give a small sigh of relief,  “the memory loss will fade soon.”
“Thanks,” I say half-heartedly. I really do appreciate her trying to be helpful but none of the information is very useful. The only knowledge I have gained from her is how often there is light and when I’ll get all of my memory back. What I really want to know is if and how I can get out of here.
I go to the opposite side of the room that Sarah is at and lean against a wall. With nothing to do, I simply just look around, studying every inch of the room. The wall adjacent to me has some sort of engraving on it. I walk over to see what it says.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
This is such a strange place for a poem like that. Maybe the person who engraved it there needed all the hope they could get. I don’t know what the meaning of it is but I do know that it makes me feel warm and bubbly inside. I like that there are so many ways people could take it. Maybe it means that hope will always be there, even through the worst times. That hope comforts those and never stops.
“You know, that isn’t going anywhere and I am pretty sure we aren’t either.” Sarah says snapping me out of my thoughts. I look at her and I can’t get over her eyes. They are hard, cold, tired and something else in there I can’t identify yet. I don’t reply because it doesn’t seem like I need to.
Sarah comes over and sits down beside me. She has a motherly vibe to her, not that I would know. I never had real mother, besides my foster mom. At least, as far as I know.
“So, do we get food, or are they just going to let us starve?” I question.
“They should be coming soon. Halfway through the time the lights stay on we get food. Based on the color of this light it is morning. Pale red is afternoon, pale green is evening, and pale blue is the middle of the night. When the light is green we can go out to the bathroom, but we get our ankles shackled.”
“Weird -”
The door opens with a loud creak. A tall, slim, man, dressed in a hazmat suit, walks in. Hazmat suit? What’s wrong with us? He places two sets of what looks to be oatmeal on the floor, but you might as well just call it hot mush. Quickly, he leaves without a sound. I walk over to the “oatmeal” and I take a bite. Surprisingly, it is sweet, but also lumpy and thick. I scarf it up in a few bites.
The lights switch back off. So much for fifteen minutes. I need to get out of here, soon. There is no way I could handle the one-a-day potty breaks and the different colored lights every six hours. I haven’t even spent a full day here, awake and aware, and I already can’t stand it.
“Psst...psst….Sarah!” I whisper, not sure if anyone is listening to us.
“Yes?” she says, in the same volume as I spoke.
“We need to figure out a way to get out of here. I mean, how have you lasted in here this long? So, you said they take us to the bathroom at the end of the day? We need to take down the escort and take his keys. Then we should unshackle ourselves and find a way out of here. What do you say?”
“Well, you have clearly thought about this thoroughly,” she starts, “I’m up for a try. You’re right, I’ve been in here for so long and I’ve been so compliant. I think it is time we get out of here. No pressure, but this is the first and only time we can do this. If we don’t make it out, who knows what will happen to us.”
She has a point, but she is also up for it. That’s all I need, all I want.
Sarah was right, I am starting to get my memory back, well most of it. So I decide I want to hear about her past.
“Tell me something,” I say.
“Like what?” she replies with slight excitement in her voice.
“Anything. Everything. Something you remember,” I say almost as excited as her.
“Hmm, okay,” she pauses for a moment,”When I was young--younger, that is--I was married, his name was Joseph. Three years into our marriage I found out I was pregnant. When I told Joseph, he got scared, and he didn’t know if he could take care of a child. So, he disappeared. I went nine months without him and the delivery day came. He showed up at the hospital saying that he was ‘sorry’ and that he’s ‘ready now.’ I was beyond ecstatic that he was there. I gave birth to this stunning, precious, little baby girl. Honestly, she was the most gentle, beautiful thing I have ever seen. She had blue eyes, like the ocean. I saw her and I thought ‘wow’, but then I realized that I couldn’t be a mother; I wasn’t good enough. I was the one who wasn’t ready. So, I held her small body in my arms and looked at my handsome husband. I said, ‘We need to give her the life she deserves. We need to give her up for adoption.’ Joseph agreed and that was it.” She said, voice shaking.
And that was it. And that was it. How could that have been it? I grew up in foster care. If my parents hadn’t given me up then my life would have been completely different, maybe even better. She gave up her child just like that. Now I am infuriated. It’s just not fair! Although I am so angry at her, at the same time I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She was so overwhelmed by becoming a mother to that new beautiful baby of hers, she felt so compelled to give her up. That she wouldn’t be a good enough mother to her daughter.
Sarah breaks my thoughts, “Now it’s your turn, tell me something you remember.”
“I can remember this one day perfectly. I was about nine years old and it was a Sunday night, my foster family and I had spent the entire day at the beach. We went that morning and built sand castles. Mine was massive, with a moat and everything. It was amazing,” I say with a smiling forming on my face.
“I remember my little foster brother had tripped and fell on my castle,” I continued,  “I was so angry I had tears streaming down my face. My foster mom came over and told me that it was okay. She said we could build a new one together. This time it was even bigger and better. By the time we finished it was lunch time. We had a picnic and when we finished we all went in the ocean. It was my first time ever in the ocean and it was certainly my favorite time. We stayed until sunset and it was so beautiful. The colors painted the sky. It was absolutely incredible.” I swear, if Sarah could see my face right now, she would laugh at how big my smile is.
“I wish I could have been there to see it. It must have been wonderful,” she says with slight disappointment.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Well, we have a lot of time to kill until this evening.”
“We do. We are going to need as much energy as we can get for later so I think I’m just going to close my eyes for a while,” I say, it feels kind of awkward now.
“Okay, you do that.”
Hours have past since I fell asleep. Sarah and I are resting, preparing for later.
“So, what’s the plan, Aria? Look, I’ve been in here for years and I haven’t thought once about getting out. We get food, and shelter without even asking for it,” Sarah says with anger rising, unexpectedly, in her voice, “Look, we don’t know how many guards there will be after we take out the one. Of course I want to get out of here, but I want to get out of here alive and unharmed.”
“We will. I can grab our guard from behind while you take his gun and the keys. Then with his gun,  hit him in the temple to knock him out. Unlock the your shackles and run If we come across any more guards, we’ll be armed.” I respond, angry that she is doubting this.
“Okay, we can try. Get ready. They will be here soon,” she says matter-of-factly.
We fall back into silence. I am more than ready to get out of here. Can this go any slower?
Once again the lights come on, this time a shade of green. Only a few minutes now, and we’ll be home free.  I give Sarah a nod. It’s time.
The same tall man comes back in.
“It is time for your daily restroom trip. Do not resist me or the shackles,” he says, expressionless. He starts putting the shackles on Sarah first. So, I jump on his back, thrusting all my weight on him. We topple over on to the floor. As he struggles to get up, Sarah grabs his gun and does exactly what I told her - knocks him out. She grabs his keys and unlocks herself.
“Why are you just standing there? Let’s get out of here,” she says with a smirk on her face. We run.
Not sure of the way to go, we take a left down a long hallway, then a right down another. We see a door, with a handle this time - ours had a high-tech key card recognition system.
“Should we?” Sarah gives me a strange look but as I gesture to the door, she understands.
“Might as well,” she says with a shrug.
The door opens with a shove. Inside there are screens covering all the walls. They show different rooms - like ours. Some are filled and others are empty. The filled ones have boys about my age and men around Sarah’s age.
“Hey Aria, look at this.”
I walk over to a table in the middle of the room. Papers completely cover the table in neat stacked piles. Sarah hands me a piece of paper.
Subject 476:
Sarah A. Davis
Birth Date: August 10, 1973
Spouse: Joseph C. Davis
Date of Spouse’s death: March 15, 2000
Children: Aria R. Davis
Date of Contracted Illness: November 18, 1999
Date of Cure Admitted: November 25, 1999

Subject 477:
Aria R. Davis
Birth Date: November 9, 1999
Date of Contracted Illness: August 27, 2015
Date of Cure Admitted: September 3, 2015
Parent(s): Sarah A. Davis, Joseph C. Davis (see above)

I look up at Sarah. I really look at her this time. I have her eyes, at first I thought that we had that in common - blue eyes. We have more than that in common though - our flesh and blood. My mom. I’ve finally met her.  She gave me up. My whole life I felt unwanted, and not truly loved. Of course I had my foster family who cared for me, but not my real family.
Here she is, right in front of me. 17 years she never knew me, 17 hours she has. I remember the story she told me about her child - me. She said I was beautiful and precious. Sarah - my mom - wanted to give me a better life and a better family. What she didn’t know was no one wanted me. I was never adopted. I guess that I can’t completely blame her for that. November 18, 1999. Nine days after I was born. Even if she wanted me back she couldn’t get me, she was locked up in here.
“You’re my daughter,” she says casually, as if it’s nothing.
“You’re my mom,” I reply.
“Yeah, well, here it says that we both contracted an illness and a cure was given to us,” she says, changing the subject, “There are dozens among dozens of sheets just like this. Some are of fathers and sons. Others are of mothers and daughters, like us,” she states, as she looks through piles.
“Wow, there are so many. Maybe we should look for something about the illness, like what is and why we’re here,” I suggest.
“Already on it,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Here.”
Wow, that was fast.

The Virus
Hereditary - mother to daughter, father to son
Starts around age 16, progresses as Subject ages
If not treated, illness could lead to paralysis and death.
Symptoms: drowsiness, depression, frequent headaches, dizziness, body aches, nose bleeds, low immune system
Cure Side-Effects: Slight memory loss, emotional imbalance
Cause: Unknown
Subjects should remain in Contamination Unit for observatory purposes

“So there is something wrong with us,” I say. I have an illness. The Virus. Why me? Why us? How? This is a lot of information to grasp at one time.
“I guess so,” Sarah says, “I don’t remember feeling any of those symptoms. How did they find us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they were watching us?” I suggest.
“Maybe. There are just so many questions.”
“For now, let’s see if we can find a layout of this place to plan our escape.”
As we look through the endless piles I can’t help but think of the poem:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Hope. I have hope that we will make it out of here. I have hope that Sarah and I will develop a relationship after all this. We are so close to escaping.
“Here you go,” Sarah says as she hands me yet another piece of paper, but, this one is larger.
“Wow, you’re good at this,” I say, amazed at how fast she can find things.
I point to a place on the map labeled Control Room. “So this is where we are.” I move my finger across the map to an area labeled Outside Exit, “and this is where we need to go. There is only one exit?”
I look at Sarah. “That’s the only one I can see,” she says.
Studying the map, I see that we have to walk through multiple hallways and pass many doors - cells. I cringe at the thought of being locked up in there again.
“I know that we should be doing everything we can to get out of here quickly and quietly,” I say, thinking about all those people locked up, just like us, “but we have to walk pass all these other rooms.” All these other unfreed people. These people like us.
“And you want to get them all out,” she says.
“Wouldn’t it be kind of selfish to just save ourselves? Look at the map, there aren’t that many rooms,” I say, lying to even myself.
“I suppose that we can start by letting out the people nearest to where we are,” she says, “and we find some other guards to take down to get more key cards, so we can open more doors.”
“More?” I say confused.
“I saw this on the guard that came to get us,” she holds up a key card, “and thought that I should take it because it might show itself to be useful.”
“Well, you were right,” I say.
“Aria, I’m happy we finally met,” she plainly states, “Let’s get started,” she changes the subject, again.
I think that it would be a good idea to grab some of the papers so I take the map, of course, the paper describing The Virus, and the one that states that I’m Sarah’s daughter.
I have the map and key card; Sarah has the gun. Holding the gun, she looks younger and braver. My mom. It doesn’t take us long before we find the first door.
As I put my hand over the slot and stick the card in, the door makes a click sound. I shove open the door. In the center of the room I can make out the figures of two bodies.
“Guards! Aria! Let’s go!” Sarah urges me.
“We can’t just leave them here!” I say to her then to the figures, “Come on! Get out of here! We are trying to help you!”
Two guys come out; one looks to be the same age as me. The other is tall and may be a few years older than Sarah. They both have scared and confused looks on their faces, so I say, “I’ll explain later, but we have to go now!”
The footsteps are getting louder, they are getting closer. I’ve never had this much adrenaline run through my body. All four of us take off, sprinting in the same direction. The map is still in my hand, so I unfold it to see where we should go. It’s difficult to see the map and run at the same time, but I try. I think that once we make it to the end of this hallway we can turn left and hide in a storage closet. That way we can come up with a better plan.
I fold the map back up, and run faster.
I can’t remember the last time I ran full speed. I used to love running but when I turned 16 I started losing my passion for activity. I became sick often and never felt fully recovered. Now I know that it was The Virus.
As we approach the turn to the closest, I can hear the footsteps fading. I get to the door first. I open it quickly and as quietly as I can. As I slide my way in, everyone else follows behind me; Sarah, the older man, and then the younger guy. The young one has these big, beautiful, brown eyes, they’re the same color of his hair. He’s tall, fit, and almost perfect looking. Oh,  we’ll get along just fine. His father, I’m assuming, has the same eyes as his son does, but his are older, and hard.
I notice that I’m staring, but they are too. I break the silence, “Hi, uh, I’m Aria, and this is um, my mom, Sarah,” I speak in a hushed voice.
The younger one talks first, “I’m Jack and this is Paul,” They don’t know yet,  “What’s this about?”
We tell them everything starting with The Virus and ending with the fact that it is hereditary.
“So, basically they found out that a bunch of people were having the same symptoms of this strange illness and they locked them up for observation. Once their kids starting showing symptoms, they took them - us - too,” I say. “They brought the kids here and placed them in the same room as their mother, or father. Jack,” I gesture to Paul, “he’s your dad.”
They turn to each other, they study each other. Jack looks astonished, confused, and happy. Is that what I looked like when I found out? Paul looks like he found a missing piece to his favorite puzzle. Unexpectedly, they hug, Jack’s eyes are watering and Paul’s smile extends passed his ears. Why didn’t Sarah and I react like that? Why wasn’t I overjoyed about finally meeting my real mom? Maybe it was just bad timing.
“I knew that I had a son, but I couldn’t remember anything about him. Now he’s here,” Paul says thrilled.
“I could barely remember anything about my life,” Jack says, “Now my life is going to be totally different.”
“I know what you mean,” Sarah and I say at the same time. We look at each other, and something is weird between us. Like she doesn’t want to let me in too deep, but I’m her daughter, for goodness sake. From what I already know, we are so similar, and all I want is to know her more.
“Okay, so should we try to save everyone at once, or should we find our way out and come back with a plan?” I ask.
“So we can risk our lives once, or we can risk them twice,” Paul says.
“At least we would get an idea of what it was like to get out before we save everyone else,” Sarah agrees with me.
“We can get out then study ways to come back and get the others out safely,” Jack says.
“I mean, if you have any other ideas, Paul?” I gesture to him.
“Okay, seems like everyone is leaning towards the opportunity to die twice,” he says, trying to add levity to the situation, “Let’s give it a shot.”
“Should we wait a little while longer to go out there? I haven’t heard anything in awhile, but maybe it’s better to leave later. Maybe they’ll think we escaped or got stuck somewhere,” says Jack.
Sarah starts, “Yeah, maybe we should rest up for a little while. We’ve all had a lot of information to process and we need to have plenty of energy to get out of here.”
We all silently agree. Each of us take different sides of the small space. I sit between a cart of cleaning supplies and a shelf of more. I look up and Jack is coming towards me. I’m already thinking that there is barely enough space for me to sit here, now he comes along. Not saying a word, he squeezes between me and the shelf.
“Where are you from?” The question kind of surprises me. Here, planning an escape, and this is the question I get asked.
“Kansas City. You?”
“Phoenix,” he says like it’s a distant memory.
“Must be nice there,” I say awkwardly.
“Yeah, it is. So, how long have you been here?” he asks.
“Since this morning,” I say with a slight laugh, “I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it and here we are. What about you?”
“A few days. I was scared to do anything I wasn’t told to. I can’t believe you thought of that in a few hours.”
“Yeah,  I’m always up for something new and exciting. I just thought of this as a new game that I have to win,” I tell him.
“I bet it’s easier to get through everything that way,” he assumes.
“Exactly. How much do you remember about your dad, Paul?” I ask.
“A lot actually. When I was little he would spend hours teaching me everything about sports. Especially basketball and baseball. We did all sorts of things together,” he says smiling, “What about your mom?”
“She gave me up for adoption. She thought my life would be better than the one she could have given me.” I don’t know why but I feel like I can tell him anything.
“Did you?”
“I grew up in foster care - no one adopted me.”
“I bet all those people, including Sarah, missed out on a lot,” he says.
“You don’t even know me,” I say harsher than meant.
“I want to,” he looks at me with his adorable eyes.
“If we make it out of here alive, I promise you can,” I say attempting to make a joke.
“Man, now I have to work extra hard to protect you,” he says.
“Who says I need protecting?”
“Well, we don’t want you dead,” he flashes his big, bright smile.
“No, we don’t,” I can’t help but flash mine.
We sit here for a while and talk about almost every clear memory. From pets to friends, to embarrassing stories, and everything in between. The longer we talk the more I like him.
“Guys, we’re going to have to leave soon. I think that the faint blue light in the cells will turn off soon,” Sarah says.
At this, we stand up, ready to come up with yet another plan. I grab the map from the shelf where I left it.
“Okay, so we’re here,” I point to the spot that says Supply Closet 1, “We need to get to this exit,” I point to the Outside Exit, which is located on the other side of this place.
“There’s only one exit, hun,” says Sarah, with a laugh.
“Yeah, okay, anyway, we need to make it all the way over there, without dying,” I manage to get a laugh out of Jack, thinking of our conversation.
“We could just make a break for it,” Paul suggests.
“Sprint from the bullets, yeah good idea,” Sarah sarcastically says. I guess they didn’t get along well.
“What else are we going to do? There’s four of us and one gun. Our chances of getting out are slim but we have no choice now, we have to go,” says Paul.
“Anything will be better than living in that room with disgusting food, limited light and nothing to do,” I say, my voice rising with every word.
“She’s right.  Even you said that you would rather die than live in there,” Jack says.
“Who gets the gun?” Sarah chimes in. “I don’t want it.”
“Neither do I, I wouldn’t be comfortable with it,” I say.
“I think you should have it,” Jack says as he grabs the gun from the floor and hands it to Paul. He gives Jack an understanding nod and holds the gun with pride. Unlike Sarah, he looks frightening and authoritative.
“Look around for anything that might be useful. We’ll leave in a few minutes,” Sarah commands.
I start looking through the stacked boxes on the shelf I was sitting by. No way! I find a box filled with pants and long sleeved shirts. The box underneath has different sized shoes.
“Guys! Look at this!” I say.
“Oh, sweet!” Jack says.
“Now that’s useful.” Sarah adds.
We all rummage through the clothes and shoes. What a strange place for this. Quickly, I find a shirt about my size and pants that are a size too big. The shoes I get are too tight around my toes. This will have to manage. Jack’s clothes, on the other hand, seem to fit him perfectly.
“Are we ready?” Paul asks. Am I ready? Ready to go through hallways where armed guards could come out any second? I need to be free. Once again, I think of the poem. I’m hopeful we’ll all make it out that exit.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I unsurely say.
“Let’s do this,” Sarah says, determined.
We step out into the dimly lit hallways. I make sure that I’m light on my feet, barely making a sound.  We have to go down four different hallways and up one set of stairs. I, again, lead the way, with Jack next to me and Sarah a few feet behind us. Paul trails all of us, with the gun in hand, looking out for the enemy. This hallway is coming to an end, and according to the map, we need to go left. I turn slowly, peeking around the corner, making sure there are no guards down there.
Fortunately for us, there is no one at the other end. Rapidly, we walk down the hallway. Within a matter of seconds, it seems, we reach the end. Another hallway, a set of stairs, and the last hallway, then we’re free. Again, the hallway is empty. Thank goodness. This time I start into a jog, we are so close to our freedom. Jack and I make it to the door that leads to the stairway. We stand here, waiting for Sarah and Paul to catch up. As soon as they get close, I bolt up the stairs. I stop again at the top, so that we all can go in together.
“I’ll go first, I have the gun,” Paul whispers.
The rest of us nod and wait for him to open the door. He takes the key card and scans it. A light turns green, letting us know we can enter. Paul walks out and signals to us to come. This is it. A few more minutes and we’ll be outside.
We walk forward. I look down the hallway and, sure enough, the door is there. A window shows the darkness of outside. We start sprinting down the hallway; I’m running as fast as possible.
“STOP!” A voice fills the hallway. We immediately react, so of course we stop and turn around. Standing at the end of the hallway are at least five guards. They outnumber us by one. Of course we couldn’t get out of here without trouble.
The owner of the voice I heard is tall and muscular. Him, along with the other four guards, are all holding guns - pointed at us. One gun against five. The outcome of this can’t be good.
“Lower your weapon and stand still or I swear we will shoot,” yells the man who’s been talking.
I notice that we are only feet away from the exit. With distraction, we can easily make it out. Then we have to ‘easily’ make it back in.
“If you shoot, you’ll have less people to observe. You know, to see how the cure affects multiple sets of people,” Sarah says, thinking along the same lines I was.
“How do you know about that?” he asks, the word ‘you’ sounding like it tastes sour in his mouth. I slowly start backing up.
“Where do you think we were all those hours?” Sarah responds harshly. Jack seems to notice I’m not standing as close to him as I was. He looks at me and realizes what I’m doing. He starts to move backward, too.
“We didn’t know. We had no idea where any of you were. We sent guards everywhere,” I’m shocked at how truthful he is. I see that Sarah has started to back up. Paul hasn’t caught on quite yet.
“Obviously not everywhere,” Sarah says. We are inches away from the door.
“Yes, not everywhere and not good enough,” he replies. Sarah, Jack and I are right next to the door, but Paul still hasn’t moved.
“GO!” Paul yells as he turns around. I don’t know what else to do than open the door. Sarah comes behind me but Jack is standing there.
“Jack we have to go!” I exclaim as I grab his hand and pull him towards the open door.
“We can’t just leave him, he’s my dad!” He says as gunshots fire in the background. I watch Jack’s expression change completely.
“He sacrificed himself for us. The least we can do is what he told us to. Now we have to go!” I try to reason with him but it’s hard to do in this situation.
“I’m sure they are going to send people out looking for us. Start running,” Sarah commands.
We have no sense of direction, no idea where we are, absolutely nothing, but we run anyway. I listen for Sarah’s footsteps ahead, making sure that I’m near her. How does she know what to do in every situation? What would it have been like to grow up with her?
Suddenly I remember I’m still holding Jack’s hand. We’ve been running for minutes and I just now remember my hand is entwined with his? I let go and start running faster.
“Okay, this should be good enough,” Sarah says between breaths. It must of been later than we thought because the sun is peeking over the horizon. We sit for minutes upon minutes. I suspect that no one wants to comment on Paul’s absence. I walk over and sit next to Jack, thinking that he really needs someone right now.
I rest my head on his shoulder, “Everything’s going to get better, I promise. You just need to hold onto all those memories you told me about. Remember why he died. For you,” I say hoping it cheers him up.
“Thanks for that. I get that we barely know each other but I just have to do this,” he says as he leans in and plants a kiss on my lips. I can’t help but smile. Even on such a sad day I can’t help but be happy.
“And thank you for that,” I say trying to make a joke out of it.
“Don’t get too comfortable kids, we have to leave soon and tell the authorities and shut this thing down,” says Sarah, “Hey Aria, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure.” I get back up and head over towards Sarah.
“I just want to let you know that I really do want to get to know you. When this is all over, could we do that?” She says so sincerely.
“Of course, I would love that,” I tell my mom. This is only the second time she has talked to me like that. The first was when she told me about my birth. She was so open then and now she’s so closed off. I want to get back to the first version of her. The poem. I had hope about everything, making it out and developing a relationship with my mom. I got that - well most of it, besides Paul.
Jack makes his way over towards us and grabs me by the shoulders, Sarah’s smiling and the sun is rising high in the background.
“Let’s get going,” I say for the final time.