Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

My mind is a jumbled mess when I arrive at the safe house. Molly’s car isn’t here. She chose a small one-storey house situated at the outskirts of West London. There are only a few old buildings in the distance that seem like abandoned factories.

This one has patched up walls that didn’t see paint in decades. It looks like an abandoned warehouse more than anything.

My gaze strays around the bushes and the old factories in the distance. Rusty metal machines lie between tall grass. Humidity permeates the air and a few crows chirp in the distance. It’s like a scene from a dystopian film.

I stash a knife in my waist, retrieve my gun, make sure it’s loaded and then head out of the car.

Branches and pebbles crunch under my feet as I make my way to the house. I keep a watch on my sides, expecting a dystopian being to jump me. There’s this eerie feeling that’s been gripping me by the gut since I arrived here and it won’t go away.

I stop near the side of the house, searching for a window. However, a door sitting ajar invites me in. I push it with the barrel of the gun.

A loud squeak fills the air. I pause, raise my weapon and focus on my surroundings. At moments like these, I prefer that my body was pumped with Omega so I’d have sharper senses.

When nothing makes a move, I take a deep breath and tiptoe inside, pointing my gun ahead.

It’s a complete abandoned warehouse. Light slips through cracked windows to lighten a few rusty, old machines. The smell of metal and humidity lingers in the air.

A whimper comes from between the machines. I run towards the sound, my gun still pointed ahead.

When I find the source of the whimpering, my eyes widen.

Sarah is huddled between two machines, handcuffed to a metal bar. Silver duct tape covers her mouth. Dried tears and mascara stream down her cheeks. She appears half-dead; too thin and bony as if she didn’t eat in days.

A rusty rod from the machine is lodged in her side. Blood drips out of her wound slowly, too slowly. From the pool underneath her, it seems she’s been like this for hours if not days.

I fall to my knees in front of her. Damn. Damn!!

“Sarah!” I slap her face and rip off the duct tape. “Sarah, wake up!”

Her eyes crack open, and they widen when she sees me. “M-Mist…?”

“Yeah, honey. It’s me. I need you to stay strong, okay?” I do my best to hide my emotions and remain as the rock she always saw me as.

“S-she… Jessie… she…”

“I’ll get you out of here.” I clutch the rod but stop myself from pulling it out. Even though it’s rusty, it’s keeping her from bleeding out. I retrieve my gun and opt to shoot her handcuff. “Don’t move, Sarah. Okay?”

“M-Mist… she… has… she— ”

A gunshot hisses past my head. I fall on my rear in the pool of blood as Sarah’s head snaps back against the wall and her vacant brown eyes stare at nowhere.

“Loud bitch.”

I whirl around, and all air knocks out of my lungs when I see the one who has been ruining my life for fifteen years.

“Molly?”





40





Mist





When life ends, it doesn’t make a sound.



The only time I’ve ever been speechless was when I realised my child was cut out from my body. I shut down and was never the same after that.

Now, I’m also speechless.

Molly, my disciple and my closest friend, stands at the entrance. The light from behind her casts dark shadows on her face. She looks like a monster dressed in fishnet stockings and with colourful rainbow hair. She chews on gum while holding a gun but she’s not pointing it anywhere. Her other hand is fisted in Jessica’s hair as she drags her across the floor.

The latter’s mouth is covered with silver duct tape, arms bound in tight, thick rope behind her back. Jessica’s half-torn, dirty dress showcases a galaxy of colours over her scraped arms and legs. She tries to keep up with Molly’s fast pace, crawling on all fours along the harsh, cracked ground.

I’m still speechless as I stare in the eyes of my most trusted person. Molly. My Molly.

She keeps dragging Jessica by the hair as if she’s deaf to her pained whimpers and blind to her cascading tears.

This is the Molly I trained. The fun, albeit not so strong Molly. This is the Molly who helped me all this time.

But again, she isn’t the same. The Molly I know wouldn’t have murdered Sarah and tortured Jessica.

I grab my gun and point it at her. “Let her go.”

Molly stops and cocks her head to the side. Without breaking eye contact with me, she jams the barrel of her gun against Jessica’s forehead. The latter’s expression freezes and more tears fall down her dirt-smudged cheeks and onto the duct tape.

“Not sure if you noticed, Misty, but I don’t give a fuck if I send this bitch after that bitch.” She motions to Sarah who’s drowning in her own blood. “So be smart, yeah? Drop your gun and send it my way.”

I meet Jessica’s widened blue eyes, and I know. I just know that Molly wouldn’t bat an eyelash when she finishes her life. I purse my lips as I place my gun on the ground and slide it in her direction. I still have my knife.

Molly kicks the weapon away without looking at it.

“Why?” I stand and try to ignore Sarah’s warm blood that still drips down my T-shirt and trousers.