The Treatment (The Program #2)(45)
Author: Suzanne Young

The passenger door of the van opens, and I’m so overwhelmed by the situation that it takes me a minute to realize who climbs out: Arthur Pritchard in a sharp navy suit. I have this sudden and crazy hope that this is all a plan to save us. I take a step toward him, ready to beg for our lives, when Roger walks out from the other side of the van. He actually laughs when he sees me, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. When Dallas sees him, she begins screaming—something manic and animalistic—once again.

I can’t believe Roger’s here. I can’t believe this is happening.

I back into James, and across the lot the doctor slides his hands into the pockets of his suit.

“I am sorry for this, Sloane,” he says sadly. His shiny shoes make a tapping noise on the pavement as he moves closer, keeping an eye on James.

James puts his arm in front of me, slowly backing us up, and then to the side as the handlers encircle us. We could try to fight our way out, but there are so many of them. How would that end? I look back to the woods, wondering if Realm is out there somewhere, if he can see us. If he’ll save us.

“I never meant to betray you, Sloane,” the doctor says. “But I had warned you about running. Ultimately, you put your trust in the wrong people.”

I’m too devastated to fully comprehend his words, and I hold tightly to James as he tries to keep us shielded. Dallas is struggling to free herself from her handler, yelling for Cas, but our friend is just standing alone, watching her helplessly.

“They’ve come for The Treatment, Sloane,” Arthur says.

“I’m so sorry.” Hurt crosses his features, and I can see his intention was never to harm us.

“Then why are you helping them?” I ask.

“I didn’t tell them you had The Treatment, ” he says, “even though I knew you did. They’ve been embedded with you this entire time. I told The Program I could help procure your surrender today.” He swallows hard, glancing back at Roger, who is just starting to focus on what the doctor is saying. “But really, I’m here to make sure you do what’s right.” James stills, and I feel my face go cold. “And what’s that, Arthur?” I ask.

“Don’t let them get their hands on The Treatment.” Arthur has barely gotten the words out before his entire body convulses, his yelp cut off by the vibration of the Taser wires shooting volts of electricity through his body. He drops to the ground, flopping like a fish, and I scream, horrified.

James grabs my arm and we start to run, but one of the handlers catches me around the waist and tears me away, lifting me off the ground as he backs me toward a van. There is so much screaming in all directions, and Arthur’s body looks lifeless, lying on the concrete in a heap. Cas is still standing there as two handlers wrestle James in the other direction, tearing us apart.

Before the handler holding me can set me down to properly restrain me, I kick him hard, sending myself headlong into the ground. My forehead ricochets off the cement, and for a moment I see stars. A warm rush of liquid travels down over my eye and I blink through it, wiping the blood away with my hand.

The handler is about to converge on me again. “Wait,” Cas calls out, surprising me. I’m half-dazed as I look up, seeing him slowly approach with his hands up in surrender.

“Run, Cas,” I say in a weak voice as my head spins. Now’s his chance to save himself.

Watching his approach, the handler steps back, giving me space. James is across the parking lot with a handler on each side of him, gaping in concern and terror. As Cas gets closer, he presses his lips together, looking absolutely miserable. “I’m so sorry, Sloane,” he says.

I wipe the blood out of my eye again and slowly sit up. I hitch in a breath as it hits me, and fresh tears start to stream down my cheeks. “No,” I say, when the crushing reality settles over me. “No, Cas.”

“Just give them The Treatment,” he begs quietly, as if he’s the one who’s pained. “Give up The Treatment and they’ll let you go.”

“You son of a bitch!” James yells, renewing the guard of his handers as they wrestle him back a few steps. “I will f**king kill you!”

Cas’s eyes weaken, but he shakes his head, determined to keep his focus on me. “Give them the pill, Sloane, and this will all be over. We’ll be able to go home again.” Tears mix with the blood on my face; I’m too stunned to speak. “We couldn’t keep running,” he adds in my silence. “My intel showed we had only a few days lead. They would have caught us, but I made a deal.

The Treatment for our freedom.”

My head is spinning, and it’s not just from where I hit it.

Arthur lies unconscious several feet away. Behind him, Roger watches on, a sick smile on his lips. In his expression I can see that he has absolutely no intention of letting us leave here today. I try to get to my feet but stumble to the ground again, skinning my knee and crying out in pain. I hear a scuffle and know James is once again trying to get to me. But they’ll never let him get that close again. I sit back on the pavement and look around once more. When I find Dallas, she looks catatonic.

Her eyes are wide, unfocused; her mouth is hanging open. Her arms are still wrapped around herself as a handler restrains her, but she’s not fighting. She’s just staring at her best friend, absolutely lost in her grief. I cry for her—the only person Dallas had let herself trust again, and this is what he’s done.

Cas reads my expression and slowly, he turns to face Dallas.

He tilts his head, covering his own cry at her appearance. “Let her go!” he yells out in a thick voice. “She’s not part of this. You said you only wanted the pill.”

“I’m sorry, Casanova,” Roger says, stepping over Arthur Pritchard’s unconscious body. “I’m afraid our agreement is void.” Cas swings to face him, his posture hardening. “On closer look, your friends have been deemed infected. We’ll be taking them all into custody at this time.”

“You’re not going anywhere near her, you f**k!” Cas shouts.

Roger laughs, shaking his head dismissively before another handler puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder, a subtle warning to stay back.

“Oh, come now,” Roger says with a grin. “Dallas and I are old friends, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Cas and James both start cussing at Roger, and my stomach lurches at the thought that anyone can be as sadistic as he is.