36. Stage three

Bogan steps into the room where everyone is crammed together waiting for his next orders. First, he looks at everyone in the living room, and then his gaze falls on me. His gaze lingers for a moment until he focuses on the rest. My breath leaves my mouth in a sigh. The fear I feel for this man is more than imagined. In the factory, he was already a burly man, with a deep voice, but now he seems to have even more power. He seems even bigger than he has ever been. "Members, joggers, warriors. This is the moment, we have been waiting for!" Yells Bogan through the hall enthusiastically and in a deep tone, so that the hairs on my arm begin to stand up. This is not good, this is only going to get worse. I think to myself as I focus my gaze back on him. "This scar was caused by the head of this disgusting planet. So now our plan goes forward to deliver that vile creature, who did this. Deliver it to me," Bogan says, ever pointing to the thick, red scar on his cheek. The question I had in my mind earlier, how he got that scar, was answered immediately. And deep down inside I have a suspicion about who he is talking about, the head of the council. The boss of their high tower, which they consider the sanctuary. Shit, this is really going to be war and this is not going to end well. Is this man even aware that this planet contains more than thousands of vampires? This is just a suicide mission with the only purpose of revenge. Scratch power. This is more than power. Waylon standing in front of me instantly stills. His muscles are tense through his T-shirt and with the good hearing these powers have given me, I hear a growl come from his throat. This was not the plan Waylon had in mind. He is as much a victim as I am of his power over these people. Maybe plan two is a better idea. I'm going to get Waylon on my side now. Perhaps with an empty promise to give him power, maybe? Still, I continue to be horrified to hear how Bogan is inviting everyone to take revenge for him. All too naive to think that this is not possible. Look at our group, there are 100 of us, with some who are listening in through the door. This is madness, downright madness. Everyone is just talking along, everyone is following him as he walks out of the room with his large stature. On the path of war, and nothing is there to stop him. No one but me.

My hope comes suddenly when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "We have to do something, Cara. This is not the way we work," she says in a stern voice. Voice I recognize that she has a plan. Then miraculously, Waylon joins us. "I'm in," he says with those piercing blue eyes fixed on both of ours. Verona still wants to open her mouth, but he puts his firm, muscular hand on her mouth. "No, this is something, you can't protest." She just nods, and we follow him behind the rest. I should keep my gaze around the group, who are grabbing from crates the weapons that will bring them to their deaths. But my gaze goes to Verona, who can't keep her eyes off Waylon, who has on a tight black T-shirt with tribals of black ink under it covering most of his left arm. Personally, I don't think he's a bad guy either, although he gives me the creeps most of the time. You never know if he's being honest or just wants to stick a knife in your back.

We go ahead and all three of us grab our weapons, just like the rest. Although our plan is not to follow them into town. No, we stay behind unseen, safe in the house. They all had a long way to go, which we want no part of. Bogan himself is far too preoccupied with his revenge plan that he doesn't even realize that a part is staying behind. Yes, indeed a part. A bigger part than hoped for. At first, we thought we were three. But after most had left, we were left with ten. Everyone looks at each other, and we all realize that we are left doing the same thing. Seeing that we survive. Not everyone is like the mad pursuit who wants to have his death known, just for a moment to feel like you are supreme among those tall vampires.

"Stragglers, I'm Waylon as you well know and this is the group of saviors than the group of crazy who are facing their death." That's all I hear before I can pull myself loose from where I'm standing. He had me firmly attached to the ground. These are the words I wanted to say. This is the group I wanted to lead. Even every word has been picked out of my head. Fear creeps up on me. How on earth could he know this? How?

Verona comes up beside me and takes me closer to the rest. "We're going to join them later. Why? Because you will realize that theirs will be dead by then. Our friends we're not going to see again, but we can honor them by making peace, by the head, and being able to set us a peaceful path back home." Again, I am perplexed. Again, all my words that remain unsaid in my brain. Verona notices my tension and takes my hand, squeezing it lightly. "Let us prepare ourselves and learn to use our weapons usefully until we leave." Then we all dispersed. Most went, as Waylon said, to train. Verona and I went outside together, where we set up under the tree to talk. Waylon had gone with the other couple to see what had been left behind.

"How did he know all this?" I ask Verona in a voice that made my panic ring clearly true. "I have no idea. He wouldn't have overheard us, would he?" She asks when it suddenly occurs to me that yesterday I had indeed felt something from someone close but had written off to paranoia. "Would he have fallen that low?" I ask her, unsure and thinking that I am dumber than thought. She looks at me again first and what I had been putting off most of the time now comes out of her mouth, "Why didn't you say anything? I thought we were friends?" She asks me, glancing across the garden. I had an inkling this was coming. How could it be otherwise? I was the one she had been taught to kill. "We are friends, of Verona. What would you have wanted me to tell you? You would have killed me right in that alley." She nods in confirmation of my words. What I had expected it to be because of the trust I had given her that she did not kill me. "Then why show me what you are?" She asks me further, still avoiding my gaze. "I couldn't let you die or just change. Changing has to be a choice." Now she does look at me with her green eyes that let me see into her soul. That's how clear they are, that's how clear I want to keep them. She is my friend and I would do anything to save her. I don't say those words, but she realizes it all too well.