The words hung in the air, incomprehensible and heavy, like a foreign language. Asher's knees threatened to buckle, his eyes welling with tears. On the bleachers, Kira sat frozen, struggling to process what she had just heard.
Fresh tears streaked her cheeks as the moment felt like a horrifying nightmare—one she desperately wished to escape. This couldn't be happening; everything they had planned and worked towards crumbled before her very eyes.
"Mr. Prescott, come with me," a soldier commanded, stepping forward.
Kira shot to her feet, her voice breaking. "No! You're not taking him anywhere!" She darted down the bleachers, weaving through the hushed crowd. Their eyes followed her with sympathy—and the silent, scornful weight of "I told you so."
Some of Asher's admirers sobbed quietly, while others simply watched, too heartbroken to speak.
A soldier stepped into Kira's path, blocking her. She tried to run around him, but he caught her arm.
"Stay away from the mutant, Miss Shawn," he barked.
"Let go of me!" she screamed, struggling against his grip. Her sobs turned into tremors, shaking her entire body.
"Get your hands off her!" Asher bellowed, lunging forward. But two soldiers grabbed him, pinning his arms.
"It's best if you comply peacefully, Mr. Prescott," one of them growled. "No one needs to get hurt."
Coach Grayson pushed through the crowd, his expression grim. Murmurs rippled around him as he reached the group.
"They saw this coming," someone whispered.
"She could be positive—who knows? It's best if she stops overreacting," another added.
"Asher, go," Grayson said firmly. "I'll take care of her."
Kira shook her head, her tears relentless. Asher met her gaze, his expression softening, though his own pain was etched deep. He'd known, bitterly, that this day would come. But Kira—she hadn't been tested yet. If she tested positive... they could take her too.
"I love you," Asher said, his voice cracking.
Kira's heart shattered. This wasn't one of his casual reassurances or a quick "I love you" meant to calm her fears. This was a farewell. A final, devastating goodbye. She tried to speak, but her grief weighed down her words.
"I'll never stop," he added, his eyes locked on hers.
Her sobs came harder, louder.
Asher turned to Grayson, his jaw tight. "Keep her safe."
As he left, she fell to the ground, clutching her aching heart as she cried profusely; the sounds of her sobs echoed through the room.
Meanwhile, as Asher took his leave, he clung to a tiny thread of hope that she could test positive and they could go together. He broke down on the bus, not caring that the soldiers were watching him with sympathy. When other positive mutants boarded—fifteen in total—he fell to his knees in despair. She wasn't there.
Back in the lab, Kira held the cotton ball on the puncture wound where her blood had been taken, scanning the crowd for Coach Grayson among those already taking their leave after the tests were concluded.
"Coach Grayson!" she called, her voice raspy from crying as she tapped the man on the shoulder. He turned to look at her.
"Kira, I'm so sorry—"
"I want to talk to him! The bus hasn't left yet. Can you help me talk to the soldiers?" she pleaded.
Grayson clicked his tongue. "Kira, I wish I could, but they won't even let parents in. I'm sorry. If you go near there, they'll kill you or lock you up."
Kira sighed, trying to hold back new tears as she walked backward, then turned to face the door as she bolted outside.
"Kira!" Grayson yelled, running after her. She raced through the hallways as fast as her legs could carry her, her mind focused on seeing him again. She hadn't told him that she loved him and needed to assure him that they would meet again—that he'd get out, and they would fix everything together.
She slumped to the ground again, scraping her knee on the rough concrete when she reached the parking lot. They were already gone.
Grayson finally caught up with her, relieved that she hadn't been gunned down for defying the VORTEX's rules.
"He's gone, Coach Grayson. He's gone," she whispered.
*****
[Asher, it's been 72 hours since you last slept or consumed food and water. Your body is severely dehydrated, and your vitals are weakening. Your heart rate is elevated, and blood pressure is dangerously low. Your cognitive function is deteriorating, and without hydration and nourishment, you risk irreversible organ damage, seizures, or loss of consciousness. I strongly recommend seeking medical assistance or rehydrating and nourishing yourself immediately. Shall I send a message to the Vortex directives?] Terry, Asher's orb-like AI assistant, informed him.
Asher groaned, turning on the bed to face the ceiling, observing the geometric patterns and a large digital clock above. "Just leave me alone," he muttered.
[Your class ranking is also dropping. Your uniform has been left unattended since your enrollment, Asher. You risk failing the general examinations.]
"Just shut up, will you?" Asher growled, tossing a pillow at the orb, which sleekly dodged.
[It is my job to assist you, Asher, and I can't do that if you're dead.]
"You want to be of help? Fine then. When will I leave this place?"
[I'm not programmed to tell you that, Asher. I'm only here to help you with day-to-day activities and your academics.]
"You're just useless," Asher hissed with a grunt, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.
Before he met Kira, they had never been apart for this long. Nothing excited him here—not the large, soft bed with an illuminated blue edge that he couldn't share with her, nor the constant electricity powering the neon blue lights, pendant bulbs, and lamps. The incredible view from the large windows was something Kira had wanted for their next apartment.
The study was something she would appreciate—a desktop computer, a large shelf stocked with books, and a plush chair beside the bed, one he imagined having her in his lap while he read her favorite novel or watched a movie. A bitter smile crept across his face at the thought. With each passing day, the chances of seeing her again grew slimmer and slimmer.
He still wore the outfit he had on during the tests, clinging to the remnants of her scent. On day one, he had attempted to run away during the orientation, only to be disappointed by the grim revelation that they were isolated in the middle of nowhere, which explained why the bus ride lasted for hours. Sleep eluded him.
Day two was a continuation of his defiance. If Kira wasn't brought to him, then he wouldn't attend classes, take the pills meant to ease his symptoms, accept the chip meant to control his powers, eat any meals served to him, or speak with anyone.
While others were thrilled at the idea of joining the Vortex Academy, Asher showcased an attitude that intrigued the higher-ups.
Asher blinked away a few tears as he sighed, glancing at the time: 11:00 a.m. The day was moving quickly, and he cared little about food. He had gone weeks without eating anything alongside Kira during the apocalypse; three days was nothing.
The door slid open, and an older man dressed in a lab coat walked in, wearing a bright smile.
"Good morning, Asher." Dr. Fowler grinned, gulping down a glass of water meant for Asher the previous night.
Asher sprang from his bed, his crystal-blue eyes burning with a mix of determination and rage. "I don't belong here! I need to go to—"
"Kira." Dr. Fowler chuckled, tapping Asher's shoulder lightly. "Yes, yes. You've made that very clear."
"Would you do that for me?" Asher asked, softening his tone in desperation. If he wanted to leave, it would be best to stay polite—at least for now.
"Walk with me," Dr. Fowler said brightly, already heading toward the door.
Reluctantly, Asher followed as the man led him through a shortcut. They stepped out of the male dormitory into fresh air, the faint scent of damp earth and pine filling Asher's nostrils. The path wound through a lush canopy of large green trees, sunlight breaking through in patches, guiding them toward the training grounds.
"Are you taking me to her?" Asher asked, a flicker of hope creeping into his voice.
Dr. Fowler flashed him another smile, but his expression was unreadable. "You're a viper, Asher."
"No, I'm not. That's something you made up."
Dr. Fowler ignored the protest and spoke into the air. "Freda, please display Exhibit 45."
"[Exhibit 45 will be displayed in three seconds]," an AI-generated female voice replied, smooth and mechanical.
Asher stiffened, his mind counting down instinctively. Three. Two. One.
A hologram projector activated in front of them, and Asher's breath caught in his throat.
It was Kira. She was seated on a basketball court, her face lit by a soft smile. Asher watched himself approach her on the screen, his steps hesitant yet filled with anticipation. She rose to greet him, and he embraced her warmly.
Then, the scene twisted.
His fingers retracted into razor-sharp claws, sinking into Kira's throat. Her gasp rang out like a piercing cry, her eyes wide with betrayal as her voice choked into silence. Blood pooled at his feet. When he finally released her neck, she crumpled to the ground, her lifeless form sprawled on the concrete.
"No," Asher whispered, shaking his head violently. His legs trembled, threatening to give way. "This isn't real. It can't be real."
Dr. Fowler's satisfied smile was like a knife in the gut. As the hologram flickered and disappeared, he leaned closer, his tone calm but laced with malice.
"Think of the millions of possibilities, Asher. The deadly venom you possess could take her out in less than a second. If you truly love her, as you claim, you'll protect her."
Asher struggled for words, but nothing came.
Dr. Fowler clicked his tongue. "Let her go, Asher. I'll schedule a meeting for you two tomorrow." He walked past the boy with a grin, satisfied that his job was done.