My jaw practically hits the floor, and I stumble away from my syringe table. The men soon regain their senses of being, not scared or startled whatsoever. This is really bad. Really bad. The Enhancement Project is expanding its reign.

And I'm the accomplice.

The C.C. tells us to dismiss the men, and I do so without much of a choice. The vaccinated citizens head out of the barn, forming a quiet group as they filter out. By the look of their calm behavior, I decide the Project is letting them walk by themselves. At least for now.

I watch the men the entire time they exit, feeling myself descend secretly into hysteria. I can't continue to harm these people, but I can't refuse either. What am I kidding, I can't just not inject them. Not here, not now. I'll be dead within the second, screened or worse.

The urge to turn towards Stephen hits me like a Train crash. I know I can't turn around, or else the Project might somehow figure out the technology in me is damaged. If I do anything suspicious, then we might be punished or separated. I care so much about him that it takes every ounce of strength to shut him out for a minute.

The next round of patients enters the barn, all of them Screeners. Walking in tight ranks, they split up evenly between the stations in the large barn. The sight of them makes my fingers shake.

As three Screeners sit down at my station, I prepare more injections. Grabbing nine syringes and needles from the metal cabinet next to me, I click them into their correct spots as the Screeners talk behind me. My mind whizzes, bouncing between surrender, hostility, and Stephen.

A cocky female Screener says, "So I'm hoping I get reassigned to guard the farmlands."

A helmet clunks onto the ground as a male replies, "Me, too. That's where all the violence is anyway."

The same girl snorts. "Of course. That's probably where all these rebels are coming from. The fields have the least number of guards."

"Stupid lower-classes," the second girl mutters. "They better wise up before we have no buildings left."

"I want to shoot every one of 'em," the boy declares in agreement. "Everyone knows that they're the ones trying to terrorize society."

But how could they get control of the broadcasts and set up those bombs, I think silently, helplessly sliding another needle into place. The bombers I saw that day didn't look like lower-class citizens. Some of them looked skinny and dirty, almost...

"Dead," one of the Screeners says. "They should all be hung for treason like that other bitch."

My fingers clamp around the final syringe, a hard-set glare ingrained in my face. That's my mom they're talking about. My own mom.

"Uh, hello?" the mouthy Screener says, knocking me out of my thoughts. "Are you going to give us our vaccines or not?"

I turn around, facing the three of them. "Unless you'd rather have me mix up these syringes and kill you?" I snap.

No reply.

"That's what I thought," I huff, grabbing few injectors. I bend to my knees, aligning my syringe with one of the male's temples.

"Any day now," he smirks.

I push the needle in his skin as hard as I can. He jumps, his eyes watering.

"Better?" I ask. He doesn't say anything. I do the same to the other two girls.

"Just remember," I say as I vaccinate the male's other temple, "that no one is below you."

I take another two syringe from the metal table, my heels clicking on the ground. I align the needle with the next temple, my blood boiling. "Not any person from any social class." I push down the button, giving the girl her second injection.

I move on to the next girl. "Not even those rebels." I push the syringe into her skin and back out.

"Because all of your lives rely on these needles right now."

"Amen," the girl snickers. "And they call this a promotion for you?"

I grab the final three gun-syringes.

"Yes..." I click a shot into the male's neck.

"They..." Another staple-like sound into a girl's neck.

"Do." The final shot goes into the final girl's neck.

The three arrogant Screeners sit motionless with straightened spines and empty eyes. Satisfaction seeps coldly into my chest for a moment. Then I realize that I've made the problem worse.

All the Screeners in the room stand up together, slamming their helmets back on their heads. The wide doors open once more, and natural light illuminates the building even more.

Just as I turn to cross my arms and watch the Screeners exit, a nearby voice bellows loudly into the barn, causing me to jump. "Out of the building! Let's go! The rebels are--"

Screeners guarding the door blast their weapons at oncoming people armed with massive-looking guns. The gunshots break the quiet air into shattering pieces.

Ears ringing, I quickly turn to Stephen's station and watch in horror as his feet jerk and give out underneath him. The sight shreds my heart apart as I scream.

Remembering to react, I scramble to slide under one of the metal tables to get to him, to save him. I pull his gun out of his severely-shaking hands.

"Steph-- have-- go!" I yell as bullets steal my words. Stephen continues to spazz out as I try to drag him to a standing position. One of my high heels twists my ankle, and I kick it off, growling. I pull Stephen across the floor as he twitches, both of us crawling away from the gunfire. He presses against me tightly.

A small device launches into the building, and it bounces twice on the ground. My eyes widen in recognition. Our hearts catch in our throats. Stephen and I quickly claw away from the device, stumbling and knocking over metal tables and chairs with loud clatters.

The mini bomb blows up, heat and dirt exploding on us. Stephen and I both scream as heat singes our skin and clothing. I pray as hard as I can that the heat damages the mind control technology in Stephen's body. I'm just about positive that's what destroyed mine.

Hands locked with each others', we crawl to a standing position and stumble away from the bomb, choking on its smoke. Guns fire and people yell as the robot Screeners fight the rebels outside. Shots continue to beat into my ear as the building fills with smoke. The farther set of doors in the barn cracks open, and the remaining unarmed Screeners slip outside.

Stephen and I bolt along the wall, crouching at every gunshot. We finally reach the doors and squeeze outside, expecting safety. The scene is even worse.

The forest has been reduced to a battleground. Screeners and rebels shoot at each other, few bodies falling dead. Stephen and I rush through the danger, sticking near the paved pathway. My bare feet slap against the ground as we dodge bullets the best we can. No one seems to aim directly for us although I swear I see a bullet narrowly miss Stephen's head. I'm tempted to fire back with my own gun, but it's too risky; fleeing is our best option.

I glance behind us and watch death tear the world apart. My body can't stomach it. Mentally I reject it, pretend it's not real. Weight piles on my chest until I gasp for breath and let Stephen pull me away from it. Too much blood everywhere, but the adrenaline and fear in me keep nauseous tears at bay.

Out of breath and covered in dirt, Stephen and I make it back into the city. Blaring sirens sound from every street corner, and citizens run to their apartment buildings, frantic. A stream of black smoke emptied from somewhere in the south side of the city.

Stephen and I take a jagged route towards our apartment building. Some streets are entirely blocked off by rebels, half-dressed in Screener gear and supporting weapons. We make it down an entire block before being forced into a random building to hide.

Just as the door closes behind us, a pack of rebels run down the street, guns ready to fire at any moment. I look away from the scene, breathing hard. A close call once again.

As our gasps slowly fade, Stephen and I scan the dark office cubicles for any people. All we find are desks covered with lonesome papers. Every visible hall fills with an eerie silence.

My brain moves a trillion miles a second. We sift through the front desk for any supplies, and I spot a metal box attached under the tabletop. Making an executive decision, I stand and fire Stephen's gun, an ear-splitting bullet at the lock of the metal box, breaking it open. I shakily pull out the emergency weapon inside and hand it to Stephen.

Checking outside the main door once more, we slip into the street, continuing our hide-and-run pattern four more times. After searching the lobby floor of a building adjacent to ours, we bolt into the street and sprint to our apartment building.

Relived that we're finally safe, we clamper slowly across the lobby. Entering the emergency stairwell, we descend ten flights of poorly-lit stairs curving underground. Once we finally reach the bottom level, an ominous, bullet-proof door detects our motion. A hologram pops up, and I scan my fingerprint before Stephen scans his own. The door unlocks, sliding open.

We enter our emergency shelter, every teen in the low-ceiling room staring at us. The door slams loudly behind us, trapping us in.

"What the heck happened to you two?" someone calls from across the bunker. All eyes turn towards the boy, his clothes revealing him to be a high-profile intern doctor.

"The same thing that happened to you," I say. "We got caught in the bombing attack."

Stephen and I pass by all the interns, taking a seat on the floor next to the boy who spoke. All of the building's residents wait restlessly in the bunker for what feels like hours, minimally talking to one another. My cheek ends up on Stephen's shoulder again, and his rests on my head once more. We breathe in sync the entire time, terrified of everything.

Out of nowhere, the bunker's door slides open with a hair-raising scrape. We all look up, expecting another intern.

"Everybody put your hands in the air! Get on your knees! Drop your weapons or we will shoot!" a deadly voice yells.

A dozen rebels stream fiercely into the room, pointing their powerful weapons at us and repeating the same three sentences. Stephen and I jump apart, getting on our knees. The rebels seize our guns before we can hide them.

One of the men menacingly yells, "Hands up! Right now!" He waves his gun especially at me. I raise my hands higher so he moves his barrel away from my chest.

"Where are Holland Renner and Stephen Moore?" another rebel announces harshly, this time a female. She points her rifle at random people, all of them trembling as the gun passes by them.

My heart freezes. I hold my breath. No one moves.

"I said where is Holland Renner AND STEPHEN MOORE!"

The woman scans the room and spots us looking considerably more overdressed than the rest of the interns. Her eye contact is knife-like.

"Get them," she commands, and the rebels grab Stephen and I roughly, dragging us out of the bunker. Their iron grip is too solid to resist, too strong to fight.

"The rest of you," the lady rebel announces loudly as her warriors push us up the stairs, "can wait in your apartments for further orders."

She takes a deep breath before belting out another yell. "Now EVERYBODY get UP. We're here to rescue you from your own nation!"

-- -- -- -- --

this was a poor way to use the word "destination", but i made a fight chapter out of it. be glad that no main character died... this time.

just kidding lol.

anywho, if you haven't already, check out my other book, instability. it's already completed, so if you want to read at your own pace and fill in some time while waiting for Enhancement updates, go add it to your library. instability also has a ship: dashley. *wink, wink*

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