The lanyard sits motionless in my lap, a smiling black-and-white photo staring back up at me. What do I do? She said I needed to leave tonight. Alone. That's my best chance. Then I can come back for them. No, I can't leave them. But she said I was better off on my own. And she's right. I know she's right. I can always come back, with help. With my…family.
They're probably waiting for me in the woods. She said there would be a signal. They're probably waiting to hear me running around out there, then they'll blow their whistle. Or they'll sense my presence. Are the rest of them Force sensitive, too? God, will they hate me for killing Rowan? Is this just a trap to get their revenge? Why would they pay to bust me out of here after what I did to their patriarch? But I didn't know. Surely, they understand that.
I just stare at the door breathless, paralyzed. God, what do I do? I know I have to leave on my own. But can I live with myself for leaving them? Is that in itself even more selfish, to attempt to bring them with me just to save face? Why am I even debating this?
I let the blanket slip off my shoulders as I rise to a standing position on shaking knees. If the opportunity presents itself, I will take advantage of it. But without the connection to the Force, I'm truly stepping into the unknown. I've never felt so vulnerable in my life.
I struggle to control my breathing as I take careful steps toward the door and grip the handle. I take a pause to listen for any sounds in the halls but can't make out any voices, radio chatter, or footsteps. I push the heavy door aside just enough to peer through and look for any cameras. Suspiciously, I see only one in this hall. It looks in my direction then lazily turns away. I hold my breath and slip out, like taking the plunge into deep, cold water.
I will my limbs to move and reach the nearest cell door. I peer through the small window and try to make out the sleeping form on the cot, but don't dare try to wake the person. I fling the key-card up to the door as if by instinct but just stare at how useless it looks against the traditional metal lock. I couldn't get anyone out of these cells if I tried. Not with this.
A door slams closed down an adjacent corridor and I freeze in terror. There are no rooms to duck into, so I just break into a run down the hall, trotting on the balls of my feet as quietly as I possibly can, praying no cameras are following me. I still have no weapon to defend myself, and my throbbing cheekbone from yesterday's fight is a sad reminder of my previous failure.
As I run, I hear calm footsteps seeming to follow me down the hall, but I don't dare look back. I turn a corner and spot an open entrance to a lab. The only illumination is from the still running monitors and machines, but it looks otherwise empty. I slip inside, weaving ever deeper between the equipment and workstations, and spot a small metal cabinet under one of the counters and climb inside, closing the doors and holding my hand over my mouth to muffle the panting. Those calm footfalls continue to approach, with a playful whistling that gets louder and louder. Suddenly all the lights in the lab turn on. I hear the door latched closed and locked.
Maybe they'll be done soon. It's just one person, how much work could they have? Especially at this hour. I can wait them out. The whistling gets closer to the table I'm hiding beneath. I hold my hand tighter over my mouth.
My metal tomb explodes in echoes of something bashing against the doors. I gasp and jolt uncontrollably, kicking over nearby beakers in a loud clatter.
"Why don't you come on out of there?" The voicing is grating and familiar.
I freeze, wide eyed, unsure if I can keep this up and still pretend I'm not here. The doors suddenly fling open and before I can adjust to the onslaught of light, someone reaches in and grabs me by the hair, yanking me out and up to my feet. I grip his wrist and stare up into his eyes, panting in fear and rage. I'm all too aware the lanyard fell out of my lap and is still inside the cabinet.
I'm transfixed by his piercing silver eyes, the pale, tattooed face, the unnerving grin. I'm a rabbit in the headlights. I sneak a glance downward and recognize the bat in his hand.
He suddenly begins to laugh. "I watched every second of that, you know. I saw you sneak out of your room, try to break someone else out. I was watching from the cameras in the security room down the hall from you, you fucking moron. You Jedi are truly bumbling idiots without your precious Force."
I have a small twinge of worry, wondering if he saw the nurse leave my cell right before my escape. If he connected the dots and if there will be hell to pay for her.
"Well you made one grave error yourself, my friend." I feign as much confidence as I can through my trembling voice.
He cranks my neck up toward his face more and I wince in pain. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
"I suspect you decided to take care of me alone. You didn't call for backup. It's just me and you in this room, and I've decided I'm leaving this place tonight."
His eyes widen in glee. "Really, now? Is that so?" He cackles.
"Oh yes."
The tattooed man lifts his bat and waves it around in my line of sight. "It would appear I'm the only one of us with a weapon, though."
"Perhaps we can share."
His smile twists into a terrifying snarl and he launches me back against the table, finally releasing my hair. Beakers are knocked over and shatter on the floor. We stare at one another, heaving, and I venture a glance at the door out of the corner of my eye. Running away won't work this time. I think I have to kill this man.
He lifts the bat and swings it toward my skull. I drop to my knees and feel a rain of glass shatter down on top of me. Before he can strike again, I dart back up to my feet several steps away and we circle each other in silence once more.
A glint of light catches my eye from one of the tables, and I look over to see a large, savage shard of glass. I snatch it up, holding it out between us, watching the first few drops of blood drip from my palm. He chuckles and shakes his head at the sight, twirling the bat around, tauntingly.
I lunge forward, aiming the glass at his sternum. As he attempts to jump back, a table blocks his path and I'm able to make contact. He takes a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth and begins to flail the bat wildly. I start inching backward, darting back frantic glances to avoid being cornered by surrounding tables. I start to lose track of the bat amidst his mad swinging, and instead listen for the smashing glass or the sound of metal whistling through the air to know when to dodge.
I launce myself over the top of one of the counters to get distance between us and regroup. He stares at me panting like an enraged, wounded animal again. There's blood lust in those eyes. As much as I pray desperately that no one has heard us and comes to investigate, neither does he. He makes no move to call for backup. Doesn't touch the radio hanging on his belt. Nor does he seem to want to sedate me like the others have done. Like he could easily do.
"I don't want to have to kill you." I pant. "But I have to leave this place. And I'm not going to let you stop me."
His glare never lets me go as he stalks around the counter towards me. "Oh, but I do want to kill you. And I will."
"Why?" I'm livid now.
"The fuck-"
"You know what I mean! What is with your grudge against me? Is it something you have with the Republic? I'm a Jedi, I don't represent them!"
He slams the bat down hard on a metal countertop and I flinch. "That's the worst part about you! You're all they're little pawns, and you don't even seem to get it. You're either lying to me, or just completely naïve. I frankly don't know what's worse. The only thing more dangerous than a Republic drone is one that yields all the power."
"I don't know what you've been hearing from…Rowan, or whoever. We're not drones, or pawns, or whatever you've been led to believe. Please, we're peacekeepers. Please let me get my friends so we can just leave this planet."
"We've heard the transmissions! They're already sending Republic forces to Stewjon! This is war!" His irate shouting makes me glance back at the door nervously.
"Look what you're doing!" I snap back, lifting up my shirt to show the ugly scar. "What, you expected zero consequences from this?"
"You ungrateful little brat. This is so much bigger than you. You're helping save future generations from kidnappings, but all you people can ever think about is your own damn misery."
He scrapes the bat off the table and starts walking toward me, shaking in rage.
"Well, you said it yourself, I'm part of a bigger plan now. What good am I dead?" I say with a cracking voice, backing away again.
"We have a 20% death rate in this program. I'm alright to lose a Jedi subject. I'll just sneak you back into your room, and they'll assume you died in the night. Your poor little heart gave out."
"Right. A bashed in skull and they'll assume natural causes…" I regret my sarcasm immediately.
His wicked grin is as disturbing as it is unexpected. "No one will care."
I see him grab at something from a nearby countertop and fling it in my direction with pursed lips and hungry, gleeful eyes. In an instant, a hot liquid covers my face and my eyes begin to sear in such burning agony that I drop to my knees and claw at them screaming. I still feel his presence somewhere out there, nearby, so I stumble back up to my feet and hold my little shard of glass out into the air in front of me, utterly blind. I hear his laughter from somewhere beside me, and I try to whip around to meet him, struggling in vain to force my eyelids open. With my free hand, I rub as much of the offending chemical away as I can, and take a few cautious blinks, seeing nothing but formless shapes and shadow. The bastard must have turned the lights off when I was down.
I struggle to calm my breath so that I can listen for him. My heart beat echoes in my skull, making it all the more difficult. Then I hear the whistle, the blessed familiar, and wait just as the metal sings within inches of my skull before I drop to my knee and wheel around, slashing the shard of glass through the air blindly. I feel it make contact- I feel it slice through skin, eliciting a howl of pain, and I smile. I can't waste a second. I hurl my body in the direction where my little blade made contact, and feel my shoulder slam into a solid, organic mass.
I will my eyelids to stay open harder than ever, and can barely make out his pale skin, the glint of his silvery teeth bared in rage. I manage to straddle his chest and pin down his arm, struggling to peal the bat out of his grip. A fist cracks into my jaw, sending me flying backward, and suddenly he's on top of me, hailing blow after blow. I hold my arms over my face uselessly and feel my vision slipping away again. He grips my hair and begins slamming my head back down into the hard, tile floor repeatedly. As my world goes black, a little voice dances in my mind, reminding in detached kindness just how seriously this man intends to end my life. This will be the end if I don't fight.
As he bashes my head into the floor, my hand carefully travels up the length of his arm, probing with curiosity until it finds its mark- the inner crook of his elbow. With a sharp jolt backward, I collapse that arm, and drive my other hand up into the shoulder. I dig my heals into the floor and launch him off of me with the impact of my hip. I'm able to regain enough sight to see the stunned look of shock on his face as I mount him once more, and seize the power of his surprise by wrapping my hands around his neck. His eyes grow ever wider and he thrashes his hands at me, tearing into my fingers or just flailing up at my arms and face. I'm careful to stay high up on my knees; his attempts to throw me by bucking his hips or wildling kicking his feet have no effect.
Through the increasingly erratic and desperate flailing of his feet, and the tearing of his fingernails into my hands, I let out a slow, methodic breath. I keep my eyes locked onto his and just concentrate on keeping myself upright and never easing up my grip, even as my arms quake and the sweat drips off my brow. I feel an intense surge of exhilaration erupt from my gut as the focus begins to wain from his eyes and I know I'm close. He's no longer looking at me, but past me- through my head, and up at the ceiling, possibly all the way to the heavens. He sees or knows something now that I can't possibly see or know. The thrashing of his legs slows to a useless flop and I watch as his fingers lose their grip around mine and the arms slip lifelessly to the floor. And I can't tear my eyes away from his, not until I see this through. I feel the tears building, and start to heave violently in uncontrollable and inexplicable sobs, but I stay steady as I watch the life leave his eyes.
My fingers audibly creak when I will them to open, and only now do I realize how heavily I'm panting. Everything is still and silent, and I stay hovering over his body for several moments, watching and waiting, making sure he doesn't move.
His eyes did the same thing. When he lay in my lap, I saw the life go out of them, too.
I stagger off of his body and fall to my hands and knees, violently heaving up nothing but bile from my empty stomach. I'm stuck in this position, hyperventilating, watching a drop of something fall into the pool of vomit. A tear. From the strain of retching, or the horror of what I've just done?
I can't waste any time. I stagger to my feet and stumble like a drunkard back to the metal cabinet. I find the lanyard and do my best not to look back down at him as I kneel down and scoop up his bat and make a run for the door. I pause at the threshold, struggling to control my panting just enough to listen for anyone else, then step back out into the hall.
The harsh fluorescents dance and flash in my battered vision, and I have to run my fingers along the walls, feeling for doorways and bends in the halls, to navigate my way back to my cell. I find where I had stopped, where I heard him opening and closing a door from around the corner, before he followed me into the lab. I thank the Force that the lock accepts my key-card, and I slip inside the security office. I stare for a while at the ever-changing screens, but the empty halls broadcasted back at me say nothing. Beside the monitor is a clipboard of crinkled pages with multi-colored ink notations. Must be some kind of rounds checklist. The left-most column- names! Tachi, S: cell 104. Vos, Q: cell 216.
I rip the paper out and shove it into my pocket. Now I need a real key, a master key of some kind. As I riffle through the drawers, a panel on the wall catches my eye. With a flashlight, I'm able to make out the labels near each of the switches. One in particular jolts my stomach with utter excitement: master lock release- cell block 1.I scan a facility schematic to find Siri and Quinlan's cell block numbers, then flick each of the switches, praying it doesn't trigger any alarms.
Just holding my new bat is like a lifeline of confidence as I venture back out. The sudden brightness brings tears to my wasted eyes, blurring my vision. I have to trace the room numbers with my fingertips to confirm what they say. When I reach 104, my heart leaps. The unlocked door slips open easily, and I scan the room with the flashlight. The cot is empty, sheets halfway hanging onto the floor. I call out her name uselessly, as if she'll materialize out of thin air.
A wicked voice seems to whisper mockingly in my ear, "she's dead." Or perhaps dying. Somewhere. Could they still be holding her somewhere, doing their…experiments?
"Shit!" I seethe through gritted teeth. Closing her door, I head toward cell block 2. I find Quinlan's door and pray he's not missing as well. The door creaks slightly as I push it open, so I jump inside and close it quickly in case anyone comes to investigate. Someone groans and stirs from the cot, and a flood of relief washes over me.
"Quinlan!" I whisper, shining the flashlight toward him.
A bruised and battered face peers over the woolen blanket. "Obi?"
I rush over to him and place a stern hand on his chest to stop him from sitting up. With another groan, he acquiesces and lays back down. Carefully, I peel the blanket away and begin inspecting for any serious wounds or bleeding.
"Is this a fucking dream? Are you really here right now?" There's still a hoarseness in his voice.
"I'm no apparition. This is very real." My smile fades. "But I tried to find Siri. Her cell is empty, I don't know where she is."
"Oh, she escaped already."
I freeze. "What?"
"Yeah, I overheard some of the guards talking about it this morning. I don't know how she managed it, but fucking good for her!" He starts to laugh, but immediately chokes and starts convulsing over the edge of his cot, sprinkling blood on the floor with each cough. I rub circles on his back as I stare off, shocked.
She just left. She took her chance, and left. Did she know where I was? Did she think of me?
Quinlan lays back down and gets his breath back with a blood-spattered grin. "I'm so glad to see you. Are you okay?"
"I think I might be doing better than you. Do you think you can walk?"
"Oh, if it gets me out of this place, I'll prance."
I smile. "Not necessary. Here, let me help you. Once we're out of here, I can get a closer look at your wounds."
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I help him to his feet. I hold his quaking form close to mine and can feel his blood begin to seep into my clothes. I really start to worry. We need to be quick. I'm not sure if I can drag his unconscious body any distance at all.
"Do you have a key?" He asks as we limp together toward the door.
"The cells are unlocked. And I have a key-card for the main facility doors."
"Well, here's hoping the others wake up and realize their doors are unlocked. If they can walk, that is." Quinlan chuckles.
"You don't think we should find them?" As I say it out loud, I realize how absurd the idea is. There were 15 of them. 15 security forces members kidnapped, somewhere in these halls. In varying states of health, maybe some dead, unknowable.
"Honestly, man, no. I'm no good to them like this. Maybe they're better off in their cells. I can't protect them if we're caught."
I say nothing and just stare at the floor. Quinlan seems to sense my worry and adds, "Don't worry, Obi. We'll be back for them. We'll get help and bust them out. Mission accomplished at least- we found where they were!"
"We don't even know where we are." My voice trails off and I don't know if he heard me.
With one hand wrapped around Quinlan's waist, and the other gripping the bat, we make our way slowly down the hallway. I search my memory of the facility schematic, but start to panic as it all blurs together in my mind. We blindly turn corners, and duck into hallways at every suspicious sound.
"Do you know where we're going?" Quinlan whispers.
Before I can answer, I spot a familiar door and stare, trying to pinpoint this feeling of dread. This was where they dragged me into for that hypothermia experiment. It led to an outdoor courtyard.
"As a matter of fact, I do." I grin, and pull him along almost faster than he can stagger.
Using the key-card, I open the door and see the gurney they had wheeled me in on. I start to feel sick and force myself to look away. The card opens the second door, and a wall of chilled air engulfs us.
"You fucking did it!" Quinlan nearly yells.
"Well not just yet." As our eyes adjust to the moonlight, the massive walls surrounding us come into form, and I can feel Quinlan's posture sink.
"It's alright, we'll figure it out. We're so close, Quinlan."
"I don't know if I can even lift myself over that."
"Here," I crouch down and place my interlaced fingers over my knee. "Step up. You'll go first and pull me up."
He looks down at my palms, hesitant, but places a foot inside and I start to hoist him up.
Just as he reaches his fingertips on the edge of the wall, a sound so shrill and abrupt makes me jolt. Quinlan is knocked off balance and falls down into the snow, letting out a choked cry of pain. I throw myself down to the ground with him and wrap my hand around his mouth to muffle the sound.
Through the wails of the siren, I whisper into his ear. "I'm so sorry!"
He grimaces in agony, but doesn't fight as I pull him rather roughly to his feet.
"Come on," I encourage as I push him up the wall once more. "You got this."
I glance back toward the door, and finally see the camera just above it, trained right at us, giving us away. I can't believe I didn't check for that.
Quinlan manages to grab hold of the top, and pull himself up with such strain that he lets out a yell mixed with pain and grit, just barely drowned out by the sirens. Once on top, he turns and stretches a hand down toward me. At his point his face is dangerously pail, and his eyes look as though he has nothing left. Reluctantly, I jump up and grab ahold. As he pulls, I kick my feet into the wall and run up it, nearly slipping on patches of ice.
Thankfully he knows to let me go once I get my hands on the top of the wall. I pull myself up the rest of the way, and Quinlan already disappears over the other side. We both jump down, our fall somewhat padded by the powdery, virgin snow. We wrap our arms around each other and stagger away as the sounds of shouting begin to build behind us.
The moon illuminates the snow in a soft glitter and guides our way toward the forest's edge. I dare not look back as I hear the ferocious sounds of Anoobas hounds howling into the cold night, no doubt thrashing against their leashes so they can chase us down and tear us limb from limb.
More shouting follows us, then the blaster shots. Quinlan and I break into our closest approximation of a run as the laser bullets explode into the snow around our feet.
"Almost there."I chant in my head, hoping the Force dampener has worn off enough for Quinlan to hear me.
As we move deeper into the forest, the light fades. We run blindly, dodging trees and sinking knee-deep into the snow with each agonizing step. Darkness creeps into the corners of my vision and exhaustion begins to take hold. I can feel Quinlan's body becoming increasingly limp in my arms, until he's nearly flopping like a ragdoll, along for the ride.
Figures dart past us, sailing over the snow like dancers. I feel like my mind is playing tricks, but the figures keep passing by, running toward where we came from. I hear more shots behind me, and whip around to see those figures illuminated by the shots of their blasters. My jaw drops in shock, but before I can comprehend what's happening, I feel a hand grip my arm.
"Keep going. Come with me. They'll handle this." A woman's voice comes out of the darkness.
With her steady grip on my arm, we keep running. I feel Quinlan's weight begin to shift off of me, and look over to see strangers supporting either side of him, their blasters bouncing in their slings.
This must be them. The Kenobi clan. Just as the nurse promised, staged and waiting for my arrival. Her end of the bargain is now met. I pray they won't find out what she did for me.