eleven

                                    

                                          
I succumb to Wyler's idea of starting the bon fire. There's part of me that knew this is where we would wind up all along, in Environettix's hands. Even if Lex and Kelly are alive, the chances of them making it back to Wyler and I while I'm still alive, are slim to none. I'm going to die. Of that I am certain. It's just a matter of when and how torturous the last moments of my life will be, either as a guinea pig at the hands of Environettix scientists or dying a slow miserable freezing-cold pain-filled death from my wound and this monstrous storm. But for now, we will continue on as if we stand a chance, as if we can beat the odds even though they are stacked against us.
Wyler lifts me carefully into his arms and I try not to scream at the pain. I wince and bite my bottom lip, unable to completely hide my feelings.
"Should I stop?" he asks.
"No, just go slow."
My body is dead weight as he lifts me from the car. Immediately, we're hit by a gust of wind and pounded by snow as we exit the vehicle and make our way to the cave. Our new temporary shelter is about 100 feet away, just close enough for us to feel the heat, but hopefully not so close that we go up in flames.
When I'm settled in the cave and covered with the only remaining blanket, not drenched in my blood, Wyler makes his way over to the Defender. He hesitates for just a moment, perhaps taking in our last moments of freedom before he seals our inevitable doom. He turns back briefly to look at me. His face is tense with anguish. I sense he needs my final approval, so I nod for him to proceed. He turns and lights the match, flicking it under the vehicle, into the pool of gasoline. It ignites immediately. The flames reach a tremendous height within minutes and black smoke billows up into the atmosphere. There's no turning back now. Environettix is sure to pick up on our SOS signal quickly, and within minutes my prediction is confirmed by the chopping sound of a helicopter in the distance, making its way through the blizzard.
"Here, take this," Wyler says once he's back in the cave. He hands me the beacon that Kelly gave him. I look at him confused.
"They'll search me, but not you. They'll be too preoccupied with your wound. Hide it wherever you can before they take you into surgery."
"What for?"
"On the off chance that Kelly and Lex reached help, I want them to know exactly where you've been taken. Hopefully they can get a message to Ivanov and send backup."
I have little hope that this will work, but I nod in understanding.
"I need you to know something," Wyler says as the rumbling sound of the aircraft grows increasingly louder. They'll be here soon.
"I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, but I had to do what was right in the moment, even if it doesn't seem that way. I never wanted anyone to get hurt, especially you."
"I know," I respond, trying to make sense of the agony I see in his eyes.
"I meant what I said to you last night."
My cheeks turn red at the memory of his confession, that I'm still not sure is real.
"You were drunk." I turn away towards the sound as it grows louder, but he grabs my face with his gloved hand and turns it back towards him.
"No, I wasn't. Mods, even the defunct versions, metabolize alcohol much faster than a normal human. It's one of the reasons why I had to drink so much to get drunk. I meant everything I said. I need you to remember that."
Does he really think I could forget the words that I've been longing years to hear him say?
"How could I forget?" I reply, to which he gives me a look of distress. I can see the torment in his soul. He's holding something back. There's something he's not telling me.