The Catastrophe Theory by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-09-08T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Written by TW Piperbrook

The last half hour had been a flurry of commotion— men, guns, and orders. Eve stood in the corner of the room, her back pressed against the cold bunker wall, her heart destroyed in more ways than she could handle.

Cassie was coming. In spite of all Eve’s efforts to save her, her daughter was going to deliver herself to this madman. She watched Emerson pace the room, his face smug and determined. It was as if he’d forgotten she was even there.

Ever since Cassie had made radio contact, Eve had become part of the background, a forgotten pawn. Her purpose had been served, and now she was as insignificant as the cement walls or the ceiling. She had no idea what would come next.

But she knew she had to stop it. And she knew she needed answers.

Once Cassie arrived, it’d be too late. It was clear the man in the room was unstable. Whatever his sick game was with her daughter, she needed to prevent it.

She eyed the gun on the table, contemplating making a lunge for it. It was about ten feet away — close enough that she could trace the contours of the metal, but far enough away to be a gamble.

She inched closer. She needed to bridge the gap.

Before she could make progress, the door slammed open and two armed guards rushed inside.

“What should we do about the light we saw earlier?” one of them asked Emerson.

“Tell the others to keep moving toward it,” he instructed. “Now that I’ve got the ultimate prize almost in hand, we need to snuff it out. Preserve the darkness.”

She recognized the look of resolve on his face. It was the same expression he’d worn at the Institute meetings — the look of a man who made all the rules, everything else be damned. A few hours earlier, though, right after Jared’s radio had gone silent, she’d seen his face soften. She’d seen the chink in his armor.

It’d only been for a few seconds, and she might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been staring at him so intently. When it sounded like he’d lost Cassie, the corners of Emerson’s eyes had wrinkled with concern, and he’d pursed his lips.

Was it possible he felt for the girl? That he cared for her more than he let on? Even though he wasn’t her flesh and blood, perhaps he viewed her as his creation. It was a warped perception, but at the same time, the man wasn’t exactly sane.

Emerson stood in the center of the room, giving directions to his subordinates. If he cared about Cassie, it was impossible to tell now. A few more people had meandered into the room, and he was speaking to them like a crazed televangelist, waving his arms and raising his voice. She recognized a few of the faces as some of the people who’d first captured her, and she felt a surge of hatred. The Dark Worshippers. They’d abused her creation. Destroyed the Institute’s vision.

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