Taylor swallowed hard, finding her throat completely empty of words as the little life in her hands finished detailing the blood-soaked testimony of how he came to fear her kind.

            She tried to look away, but found it impossible as Ben breathed a redemptive sigh, his chest heaving up once, having at last gotten a direct account out of his system.  Even when he was brought into Aegis the night of the crime to identify the drunken murderer of Eric and Jane, all he’d been able to do was point a finger through a window without opening his mouth.  There were plenty of other eye witnesses present to corroborate the truth, but even if there weren’t, the Beta wouldn’t even have been able to utter the story back to anyone with a pair of pliers holding his jaw open.  It was simply locked inside, allowed to fester like a tumor through five years of stewing anxiety and near-silent therapy sessions with a caring Aegis therapist.

            Until now, anyway, when his own end seemed to come nearer with every passing minute, and he was cupped in the palm of one of the very beings that had slaughtered the only family he had.  The irony wasn’t lost on Ben as he laid back in Taylor’s hand, weary from the effort to expel the grisly history.  A tired smile appeared on his face.

            “Thank you, Ben,” Taylor whispered, not entirely sure at the time where her gratitude came from, but feeling it potently nonetheless.

            “No, really, thank you,” he muttered.  He felt lighter now, as though he might be able to stand up and leap right out of the Alpha’s hands and carry himself to the finish line.  “So… what about you?”

            “I guess it is my turn, isn’t it?” she breathed.  Taylor rose back to her feet, careful not to jostle her trauma patient of a passenger, and glanced back up to the vent.  Her hand ascended into her hair, where Ben obediently twisted himself back in her soft black locks.  “I’ll tell you on the way to Alice.  Hold tight now.”

            Dr. Herman Randolph stared blankly through the crowded, muggy darkness of the prison.  Several thin slits in the metal along each side wall were the only source of oxygen or glimmers of light provided for what he assumed to be more than one hundred Betas trapped in this same box with him.  The vast majority of them were kids, hardly old enough to have begun puberty, and yet here they were, breathlessly waiting to be slaughtered like barnyard animals.

            The possibility of their demise was something the doctor had already worked out just from the crude design of the self-sealing panels that could contain the air if directed, as well as a thick hose that ran through the center of the square container.  The tube was pockmarked with openings intended to diffuse an aerosol, which Herman had to assume was something meant to bring a swift end to the functioning heartbeats of everyone in this box, as well as the countless identical ones all lined in single file upon the stage.

            Of course, he’d kept this information to himself, knowing the chances of minimizing anxiety attacks for the terrified teens would be vastly improved if a reasonable doubt was maintained.  Already there’d been a lot of hyperventilating amongst them that only spread by a panicked crowd mentality, which he’d been able to keep in check with some soothing words, but he knew it would only do so much good.

            “Dr. Randolph?” Ben’s teacher Mrs. Hall whispered, crouching next to where he’d slumped against the cold wall of their box.  “Lift up your arm.”

            “Thank you,” he said, using a free hand to hoist his limp elbow up high enough for the Beta educator.  Delicately she wrapped another strip of cloth torn from her sleeves around his shoulder for use as a sling.  He lowered it back into his lap and winced at the sting of it, but considering Halle had literally swatted him across an entire stage, he considered himself lucky he’d only come away with a broken arm and severely twisted ankle.

            “You’re welcome,” she said as she finished tying it off.  “I’m sorry I can’t do much more for it.”

            “You set this pretty well, actually,” he said, running a hand along the strip of fabric.  “Had any medical training?”

            “Just first aid,” Mrs. Hall answered.  “My mother is a nurse, though.  She made sure I had a few skills I could pull out if need be.”

            “Beta?”

            “Alpha, actually.  She tended to worry a lot about me for it, I suppose,” she said.  “Glad to know it’s coming in handy now.”

            For the first time in the hours they’d all spent in the box, there was a hush hanging over the teens as they huddled together.  Some continued sobbing dryly into each other’s shoulders, most of them having run out of moisture for tears, but otherwise the dim space had become a graveyard of sniffling and heavy breathing.

            Earlier, when the air was filled with petulant screams and rambunctious arguing among the students, Herman had only hoped for eventual silence so that the group might be able to calm down.  Now that no one spoke, it somehow made the dread twist even tighter inside his gut.

            It was like many of them had given up already.

            “Everyone?” Herman called out loudly enough for his voice to fill the blackened void above their heads.  Most at least lifted their heads to look in his direction, though many remained with their chins slumped against their chests.  “I’d like to go over that breathing exercise again, for anyone that needs it, okay?  Let’s start out by straightening our spines out.  Just sit up, that’s all you have to do.”

            There was a low groan as several dozen of the students who hadn’t yet reached their emotional breaking point begrudgingly did as instructed, either too determined to surrender or too numb to care.  As long as they were still willing to respond to a voice, Herman knew it meant they had a chance of coming out on the other side.

            “All right, that’s good.  Expel all the air from your lungs.  Now, let’s just inhale slowly again for four counts.  One, two, three, four,” he sounded off as gently as he could while still letting his words reach all corners of the box.

            There was more shuffling as the outliers among the rows of three-inch-tall students joined the oxygenating party.  They sat up straighter and inhaled together.  Mrs. Hall gave Herman a pat on his good shoulder as she followed along with the exercise, obviously requiring a boost of hope just as much as any of the youngsters.

            “Good.  Now, just hold that breath for seven seconds.  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” he continued, holding his free hand up and measuring the beat with his fingers.  “And finally we’re going to let it out, nice and easy, for eight counts, until you’re on empty again.  Ready?  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

            By now the majority of the box had joined in as the collective exhalation filled the space with a temporary breeze.  Herman smirked in spite of himself, glad to see the downtrodden masses were still willing to keep rolling onward even with the possible object of their doom hooked directly into the center.

            “Very nice.  Now, we’ll just keep doing that.  Do it for as long as you like.  Focus on counting each second, one step at a time,” Herman instructed.  He counted again, quieter this time, and heard the group move onto their second set of inhalations.  His own heart, troubled as it was, was aided by it, even though he knew how feeble a tactic it was given the circumstances.

            “You know Ben, don’t you?” Mrs. Hall whispered to Herman after he’d ceased counting aloud, though the breathing exercises audibly continued throughout the space.  “Ben Wagner?”

            “Yes, I know Benjamin,” he said.  “Old friend of the family.  Are you his-”

            “His homeroom teacher, yes,” she answered.  “He’s a good kid.”

            “That he is,” the doctor replied.  “I haven’t seen him in here.  I would’ve assumed he was with your group.”

            “I… haven’t either.  I remember, before the ceremony started, he… went off toward the restrooms.  I don’t know if he made it back in with the class later on,” she explained nervously.

            “I’m sure he’s all right.  He’s got a logical head on his shoulders,” Herman said, lying even to himself.  As smart as Ben was, he knew the teen’s timid nature meant he would’ve been hounded fairly quickly even if he wasn’t in the auditorium at the time of the takeover.

            Still, it didn’t pay to squelch positivity.  Not in a place like this.

            “Yes.  Yes, he’ll be all right,” Mrs. Hall answered.  It sounded like she as well had to convince herself.

            “Pointless,” a voice croaked from somewhere in the huddled crowd, his voice cracking on the first syllable.  “It’s all pointless!”

            A low murmur ran over the group as a few Betas whispered to one another, trying to identify the voice’s owner without a face to look at.  The steady synced breathing was momentarily interrupted, mismatching the counting order.

            “Just focus on the breathing,” Herman repeated above the mumbling.  “Everything will be all-”

            “Don’t you see where we are?” the teen protested with exhaustion.  “Look at that tube in the middle!  It’s going to-”

            “Right now, it’s not our job to worry about where we are,” Herman interrupted, knowing he couldn’t simply quell the crowd with a few entry level breathing games while a half-panicked kid was trying to drum up some terrorized solidarity.  He didn’t blame the teen in the least for his reaction to the situation, but he needed to be shut down before the fragile equilibrium of the group was tested beyond repair.

            “Michael, please…” Mrs. Hall implored sympathetically.

            “Well, then whose job is it?” Ben's bully screeched, ignoring his teacher.  A few of his neighboring students attempted to shush him, to no avail.

            “Aegis,” Herman said calmly.  “Don’t doubt for a second that they’re doing everything they can right now to get each and every one of us out of here, safe and sound.”

            “Oh, right.  Because they’ve been working just so hard all this time, haven’t they?” Michael spat, descending deeper into wild hysteria.  “We’ve been in here for HOURS.  If they were going to do something, they’d have done it!  They’re… they’re just gonna let them fill this box up.”

            “No they’re not.”

            “Are you all fucking BLIND?  Look at the thing in the middle?  Don’t you know what that is?” he cried, waving his arms frantically at the hose.  The murmuring around him grew louder, and fresh sobbing broke out as anyone who’d somehow managed to block out the image of that deadly instrument was reminded of it again.  “They’re gonna gas us like rats!”

            “It’s taking time because they’re going to ensure that everyone gets out of here safely.  All right?” Herman said, careful not to snap and just increase the frenzy level.  All around, the students were already breaking back down into tears again; clearly, many of them were thinking the very same things this anonymous rabble-rouser was spouting.  Admittedly, he wasn’t exactly unfounded.

            “You all think they’re going to let us get out of here alive?  You’re all crazy!” Michael shrieked, on the verge of hyperventilating now.  Several students worked to keep him from moving, wrestling him closer to the ground, but the Beta was obviously intent on being heard as he simply raised his voice.  “Do you KNOW who that is out there?  Who built this fucking thing we’re inside?”

            “Now, now, let’s just-”

            “Alma fucking Warren!” he croaked.  This name caught the attention of a few more agitated kids, and ignited further squeals and pants-pissing writhing.  For many, no explanation was required to accompany with these three words.

            Alma was the kind of person who acted as the subject of everything from cautionary tales by parents to spooky campfire stories: a monster in human skin, albeit one who was not only very real but locked in prison and ready to eat her way out and make up for lost time.

            Herman sighed, hoping to have kept the identity of the death trap’s architect secret from the masses for as long as possible.  He, too, knew the face of the woman from the moment she’d scooped their party up and deposited them into the box, most notably in a lecture he’d attended where her mugshot was featured.

            “You’re right,” he said to Michael with more calm than he had a right to.  “That is Alma Warren out there.  But I’ll tell you all something else.”

            Miraculously, enough of a hush fell over the group that the doctor could actually be heard.  He bit his lip, knowing that even now, they still were willing to believe there was a sliver of hope.  The man already had to lift their spirits about the future on a well-lit stage today; it was his duty to continue doing so now.

            “If their plan was to do away with us all, they could’ve easily done it already.  They want something from Aegis, and it’s just a matter of time before we’re let out and things are set right.  Because they caught her once, and they’ll do it again.  And the same with all her friends out there,” Herman intoned.  There was a hefty silence as the fear-mongering Beta student was at last convinced to shut up by those around him, and the deluge of tears abounding the space seemed to slow as well.

            “Now, let’s start up again.  Everyone together, with me,” Herman began, lifting his arm up to count off.  “One, two, three, four…”

            “Are you sure this is safe to come out here?” Ben whispered as Taylor slid out of the vent and into the partially constructed new north entrance hall of the Norman & Joan Tyler Convention Center, littered with construction tools across the tables, the truck Roger and Gail had used for entry into the building, as well as the dusty rubble of the pillar after it was blown out by a well-placed grenade during the encounter with Tricia’s SWAT forces.

            “As safe as it’s going to be,” Taylor reassured as she crept between portable cement mixers and piles of metal girders, keeping to her hands and knees between each.  “I’ve seen the feed from the control room.  They don’t have a camera set up here yet, and this is the quickest route over to Alice.  We need to stay out of the open until we’ve put her down for a nap.”

            “Okay,” Ben sighed, winding a leg through the Alpha’s hair for added support as she glided from one hiding place to the next.  It was strange to find themselves back in the light again, filtered through the numerous tarps hanging over what would eventually serve as ceiling-high windows between the positively towering trio of pillars.  The Beta felt intestine-churningly exposed to be robbed of the darkness and silence, and instead plopped out into the open, but he trusted the girl’s instinct for efficiency in dire situations.

            That trust was heightened after learning of Taylor’s unique career path: from her beginnings as the child of two black market arms dealers who taught her self-defense and self-reliance with the tools of the trade, leading to her violent expulsion into a normal life where she tried to blend in as a sorority girl, and finally found herself in Omega enforcer custody for pledge initiation exercises that involved swallowing and vomiting up several forcibly stripped Betas served from a punch bowl.  The job at the Convention Center was her work release, and subsequent employment by the Paradise sisters an unlucky sequence of events mostly reliant upon her strategic position within the structure.  It was a lot to take in, and Ben knew he’d have had difficulty processing it if the much more pressing matter of their imminent and mortal peril wasn’t taking precedence.

            “Alice is just down the hall from here,” Taylor whispered.  Steadily she ascended back to her full height under the shade of the abandoned truck.  “We’ll stick close to the walls, and I’ll put you in my pocket once we’ve found her, so you don’t get stuck in the middle.”

            “Right,” Ben nodded, distracted as he gazed up between the strands of Taylor’s hair.  His eyes settled on the crumbled remains of the stone support Roger had blown out earlier.  “That sounds good.”

            “What is it?”

            “Nothing,” he shrugged.  Once again, knowledge was a useful friend for the Beta in times of potential terror.  “Just… the way this hall is set up.”

            “And?

            “Well, see how there were three pillars?”

            “Yeah.  Except they blew the middle one when Aegis tried to come in,” Taylor agreed, peering up toward the ceiling far above.  “Why?”

            “It’s just… well, we should probably keep moving out of here.  The way the roof is supported, when it’s not completely reinforced yet… those pillars are really the only things holding it up.  It can handle losing one of them, but with just two left?  It’s still dangerous.  If it lost another one, this whole area would collapse.”

            “Okay.  Noted.  We’re getting out of here,” Taylor uttered, darting along the trailer of the vehicle and peeking around the corner of its front cabin.  “How the hell do you know that, anyway?”

            “Architecture course,” he said smugly.  “Read a few books on it, too.”

            “All right, all right, Raphael.  Let’s just keep a move-on before you try to show me up again,” Taylor smarmed in a low voice.  She lifted reached a hand up toward her shoulder, spreading her fingers for Ben to climb in.  “Why don’t you get in?  We’re almost at the end of the hall, and I want you in my pocket so Alice doesn’t get a chance to second-guess.”

            But the Beta made no reaction from within the canopy of the Alpha’s hair.  Taylor could feel his tiny fists trembling around her locks, his legs quaking against the skin of her neck.

            “G-G… G…” he mumbled.

            “What?”

            “Get down!” Ben shouted into her ear.  Startled, Taylor dropped to the ground, diving away from the truck just as a rapidly advancing Roger swung a hulking fist into the window of the truck where her head had been a heartbeat before.