Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all the basics.

Rated M for several reasons.

Part Two

Chapter 17 The Walking Dead

RPOV

When it does happen it happens so fast there isn't time to think.

With no warning whatsoever something broadsides us with a deafening explosion of tortured metal and shattering glass.

We don't turn over, thank god, but the impact sends our back end flaring out and off the road until it hits a tree, then we're spinning faster, lights illuminating a blur of road, trees and debris before we rock to stop.

I blink and it seems like in just the space of that blink we're surrounded by men pointing guns at us . . . .

BPOV

"Get out." A flat, inflectionless, voice orders.

Rose and I ease ourselves out carefully, some instinct compels me to leave Alice where she is though I can't believe she isn't injured.

As soon my feet hit the dirt I'm grabbed by the throat and thrown to my knees with my head shoved down and my hands placed behind it. "Don't move." A voice orders as Rose is forced down beside me, followed by two others and finally Pete whose limp form is left to flop forward on his face. There's just enough light spilling back from the pickups' high beams to see four sets of booted feet arrayed in front of us.

"Which one of you is Scarlett Greene?" The voice demands.

None of us answer.

"There's one missing." Another voice observes. "We're looking for six."

"Well then we'd better start getting some answers." Voice one sighs. "Because they won't all fit in the car."

I had forgotten someone was behind us until a hand fists tightly into my hair, lifting me up so I squeal in pain. Along the row someone shouts, surging to his feet but one of the men steps forward to bludgeon him back to the ground with his rifle butt.

I choke back a sob because I can see now, to my side are my friends all with varying degrees of injury and in front of us are four shadowy armed men, pointing their guns at us.

"Which one are you?" Voice one, which I can now see belongs to a short barrel chested man with a shaved head.

I can't find my voice but I don't need to because his attention shifts to my cast.

"Peyton Kristen." He intones. "Not on the list but about to make yourself useful anyway. The blonde next to you must be Nikki Andrews so the lady we want is missing. Where is she Peyton?"

"I don't know."

"I find that highly unlikely." He snorts. "Dave, if you please?"

My hair is released and I thud back onto my knees but the relief is short lived, two hands immediately grip my arm, twisting the cast and the broken bones in two different directions.

I scream in agony.

"She's in the truck! She's in the fucking truck!" Rose screams at the same time.

One of them scoots round us and reappears with Alice's limp form in his arms. Jasper curses out loud as she is carried away into the darkness and I sob in earnest as my arm is released and I collapse in on myself.

"Now then." Baldy man begins. "Just one more thing we need to keep you for. Any takers for Rob Peterson?"

Again no one answers and I drag my head up to see what's happening.

The man behind me has moved away down the line to haul Edward back onto his knees. I can see he's barely conscious as his head is pulled back to expose his throat.

"A speedy response would be appreciated as the hour groweth late."

A huge serrated knife appears suddenly at Edward's throat and I cry out but Jasper is already speaking.

"Stop!" He orders. "He's Peterson, he's the one you want."

Baldy considers him for a minute and then nods, the knife disappears and Edward is dragged away into the darkness after Alice.

"Excellent. Thank you for all your help." Baldy says with a slight bow before he turns and walks away.

"Kill them." He throws over his shoulder. "Put their bodies in the truck and torch it."

For a long, long, moment nothing happens and then the gunfire is deafening . . . .

EsPOV

Emmett McCarty. I had quickly noted him down as being brave and protective. Been amused at his rapid attachment to the archetypal statuesque blonde. Clearly he wasn't the total fool his football scholarship suggested but beyond that there was little about him that intrigued me, his reactions to our experiments were on the whole balanced and rational.

The boy has hidden depths though. I was quite sure that when he realised who I was the guards would have to haul him off me but he just frowned at me for a long moment and then smiled.

"Well, well. Dr Esme Cullen. Fancy finding you lurking in another hole in the ground. What's with the plastic leggings, planning on doing a bit of bog snorkelling while we're down here?"

"It's nice to see you too Emmett." I smile, sitting down opposite him. "How is your arm?"

"Extremely sore if you must know."

I nod and begin making notes, curious as to how long he will wait for me to speak. Dr Masen had done an excellent job amputating his left hand given what he had to work with but Professor Weber's team had to do some remedial work so the prosthetic can be fitted later. I observe him from under my hair, he's calm, sometimes watching me, sometimes the window behind me where scientists and workers are probably passing to and fro in the corridor.

His suite is considerably less salubrious than mine and he won't be getting an access card so he can come and go as he pleases, nevertheless he has a king size bed, a table, cable TV and his own bathroom. He has no external window though, not down here on the Andromeda level.

"Are you looking forward to getting your new hand?" I ask eventually.

"That depends what kind of cool attachments it comes with." He laughs, flashing me his dimples and his big blue eyes.

"What sort of attachments would you like Emmett?"

"I couldn't possibly say ma'am." He snickers. "Not with you having a husband around here somewhere."

I have to forge a relationship with the patient for this study so after taking a moment to steady myself I tell him the truth.

"Carlisle didn't make it out of the Facility alive." Under my scrutiny he hides his shock quickly and then narrow his eyes.

"I'm not sure I believe you." He says eventually.

"In your position I wouldn't blame you." I allow. "Aro's rescue squad killed him."

"How? Why?"

"Sam assumed it was because he didn't want any witnesses."

He's quite for a moment, his face impassive as he processes my news.

"If you don't mind me saying so." He drawls eventually. "I find it fucked up in the extreme that, if what you say is true, you'd come down here to work for the evil old bastard."

"You think I had a choice?"

"Forgive me Dr Cullen but you don't exactly look like a prisoner down here."

"Ah now Emmett." I smile ruefully. "I just have a much nicer cell . . . ."

RPOV

The hail of bullets seems to last forever, which I'm going to make an educated guess is what happens when you die.

But then, abruptly, there is silence and rough hands lift me up and throw me into the back of a large truck. Bella, Jasper and Pete quickly follow and then the door bangs shut, enclosing us in total darkness.

"Everyone alright?" Jasper asks.

Pete is silent. Bella whimpers and I have no words so I just reach out for Jasper's bicep in the darkness and give it a brief squeeze.

Jesus but its fucking cold in here!

Bella and I huddle together as Jasper inspects his 'little' brother.

"Is he okay?" I ask quietly.

"I think so." Jasper sighs. "He's breathing easy enough but there's a massive bump on his head."

We're silent for a few minutes, swaying slightly with the movement of the truck.

"What just happened?" I ask eventually.

"I have no fucking idea." He admits. "But you should get your head down while you can."

"Okay."

More silence.

"Jasper?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry about Alice."

Silence.

I wake up cold, stiff and blinking frantically when the doors open to let light stream in.

"Out." A masked man orders, gesturing with his assault rifle for emphasis.

Jasper and I climb down awkwardly, assisting Bella and a mercifully now conscious Pete.

"Move."

The barrel of his gun points to an open barn door and I risk a glance around. To our right is a huge farm house with a classic wrap around veranda, to the left a flat pasture ringed by firs and ahead, a classic redwood barn with white trim.

The man cajoles us halfway along the straw bedded stalls and then orders us into one that's ringed with iron bars.

And of course, he locks us in without another word.

In silence Bella and Pete curl up together in the corner while Jasper and I pointlessly test out the bars and boards. Jasper also tries jumping for the rafters above us, but to no avail . . . .

BPOV

I snuggle into Edward, wanting as usual to prolong the stolen intimacy for as long as possible, but the pain in my arm makes it impossible and as I pull back to sit up reality reasserts itself without the aid of an anaesthetic.

"Careful." Pete groans as I accidentally elbow him in the ribs.

"Sorry." I hiss as my arm flares in agony.

"I wasn't dreamin' then." He sighs heavily as we survey our stable accommodation.

I can't speak. First Em, now Alice and Edward. And us? What's going to happen to us? Why aren't we dead?

Across from us Jasper is asleep sitting up, with his arm thrown over Rose who is snoring softly as she curls into his side.

Heavy boots stomped toward us and a masked man rattles the stall door.

"Wake up assholes." He grumbles. "This is your one and only chance for a comfort break before we leave. If you piss yourselves on the journey it's your problem not mine."

"Where are we going?" Jasper demands rising groggily to his feet.

"They don't tell me shit like that." The man shrugs. "If you gotta go you've got ten minutes to make like the animals and then we're outta here."

He remains where he is.

"You going to watch?" Rose snarls.

There's a beat of silence and then he turns his back.

Jasper and Pete immediately point Percy at the Porcelain, or wooden wall in this case. And after a moment Rose and I exchange looks and then retreat to the other corner of the stall to tend to our own needs.

Outside slanting rain pummels us in the face as our guard orders us back into the refrigerated truck, slamming the doors behind us . . . .

RPOV

I am a mass of random aches and pains and judging by the periodic groaning so are the others.

And it's fucking cold in here.

At least I have a watch, albeit a cheap one I picked up in Target. Five hours we've been in here. Five cold, miserable, uncomfortable, nausea inducing hours. Five hours further from Alice and Edward and god knows how many hours further from Em.

I can't even cry or sleep because my mind is spinning with violent scenarios. So help me god if I get the chance someone is going to regret not killing me when they had it . . . .

.. EMT …..

"You have an update?" Aro enquires as he answers his secure line.

"The team in Bismark have picked them up." Garrett informs him.

"And?" Aro purrs, refusing to acknowledge that Garrett's plan of calculating where they might cross through into America, and placing teams there, bore fruit.

"They reported a bit of trouble but everything is under control now."

Now Aro sighs because he detests having to coax information out of people, especially people he is paying the gross national product of a small country to.

"We have Brandon and Masen." Garrett continues. "The others are dead and their bodies cremated."

"Does Professor Weber know?"

"She does. They are on their way to her as we speak."

"Good."

"Are we ready for the next step in the plan?" Garrett asks.

"Almost, I have another palm or two to be greased first."

"As you wish. What would you like me to do next?"

"Follow my new assets down to Argentina, make sure they settle in well and security is up to scratch."

"Professor Weber won't like that."

"I am sure she will not." Aro chuckles happily. "But we should not allow her to get too comfortable in her little domain, should we . . . ."