RESCUE

Chapter six: Tristan M.

All is silent at the back of the van now. I don't think anyone's in the mood for talking. Adam's gone quiet again and this time Eli's joining him. Luke hasn't been too bothered by Becky's abduction, but I'm sure he must be. He's got to be. I look at him from across the van and see him looking at his gun questionably. Maybe he's dozing off. I am, too. No surprise there. It's been one hell of a long drive. But I can't sleep now. I'm too scared. Whenever I hear a noise, I jump and grab Owen's forearm. He snapped at me for the first few times, but he's gotten used to it now. It's been two days since Becky and Clare were captured. Two whole days. We haven't been able to leave base because the infected managed to locate us and were prowling around for ages. We couldn't risk going out and facing them so we had to wait for them to clear. We waited two whole days. And even that short amount of time could be too long. Everyone's on edge now. Everyone is drained.

We haven't been this quiet since the canister drop-off day. Nobody is speaking to one another. The only person whose said a word to me is Owen. Even Maya and Tori are as silent as can be. Well, Tori's always silent now, to be fair. Ever since we lost Zig she hasn't quite been herself. I try to tell her that it wasn't her fault but she never listens. She doesn't sleep well at night, and we often catch her muttering things to herself and crying. She's never fully aware of her surroundings either so we always have the act as her guide. There are some moments when we think the old Tori is back, but in less than a second she snaps out of it and returns to wallowing in her misery. Her mind is elsewhere. The old Tori is gone. This leaves me lonely, mostly, so I've gotten a little closer to Maya and Cam, though he doesn't like talking to me much.

It's even more frightening with the hockey players and, especially, the Bakers around. But now that both Becky and Clare have been abducted by those raiders, or whatever they are, I actually want them back. Even Becky.

Before I know it, I hear the sound of four tires digging into a mess of rubble and Officer Turner pulling the gear into park. I look up from my hands and peer up at the driver's seat. If I thought it was quiet before, I was truly mistaken. Because now the van seems to be filled with ghosts. I don't think anybody's even breathing. I'm definitely not. Turner looks right back at us and he doesn't need to speak to tell us that we've arrived. That we're in danger. That we have to be careful. We know. So, instead, he gives us a nod then he turns in his seat, heading for the door. I press my back to the side of the van and take a deep breath. I hear the doors open, and the people around me start to leave. But I can't bring myself to even looking at the exit. Owen plants his hand on my shoulder.

"Tris," he breathes, "We have to move." He tells me, pressing his fingers onto me a little harder. I finally lift my gaze and look sideways at him. He gives me a pat.

"Can't I just wait here?" When I ask this, he sighs heavily and pulls a face.

"No. The infected could target you." He says in a scolding voice. I purse my lips and begin t nod. "Come on, it'll be fine." He mutters. Even when he tries to comfort me I can sense the doubt in his voice. I try not to think about it as I turn on the spot and place a hand on the open door, pulling myself out. My feet touch the filthy pavement and I feel a nudge at my side immediately. When I turn, it's only Tori with a gun in hand.

"Here. You'll need this." She says. My eyes widen and I take the gun away from her.

"Tor, don't point that thing at me!" I insinuate. Maya, who stays by her side, grins at my response. When I look back at Tori, I see that her cold, blank expression remains. She's still gone.

"Doesn't matter anyway." I hear her say under her breath. She looks down at the ground with some sort of longing, and by the time I try to comfort her she turns away from me and wanders off. I glance at Maya worryingly and she returns it. We both don't know how to fix this. Perhaps there's nothing we can do to help her. But I refuse to lose hope.

"We have to move." Turner hisses from up front. I lift my gaze to see him observing us with a stern expression. He doesn't look at us like we're kids anymore. He looks affronted, dangerous, frightening. He licks his lips and turns his back to us. He lifts a hand and gestures for us to follow. We've set up this entire plan, but it's already slipping from my mind. I think we're supposed to head through the bad door and just run in and grab them out. If they're still alive, that is. We sneak around a corner and peer back ate the building. From where I stand, I think I see people swaying around the back of the building. When Turner grabs me by the front of my shirt and shoves me back into our group, I realise what they are before he even opens his mouth to warn us. "It's the infected." He breathes. I swallow hard and already fear that they've heard me. "I - we..." Turner looks around the corner again, with ambivalent eyes and creased brows. He looks back at us, tugging his firearm closer to his chest. "We run." He states.

"What?" Dallas asks, exasperated. "You want us to run right into them?"

"No, I want us to run through them." Turner says with another uptight glance back at us. I raise my voice to speak.

"Officer Turner, sir, I mean no disrespect, but... You're an officer, so I guess this stuff is pretty basic to you. But, we're just teenagers."

"Not anymore, you're not." He sighs, loading his weapon. It makes a loud cracking noise which stuns me alert. I scramble to get a grip on my own firearm, though I know close to nothing about using it.

"We move on the count of three." Turner says. "One." I glare at him, starting to shake my head.

"No. No." I mutter, feeling my heart skip in my chest. Turner signals us with a wave of his hand, and crouches before trudging sideways, out into the open.

"Two." He grumbles. I'm about to protest again but Owen shoves me down, and I see that everyone else is crouching too. I shake my head another time. I am not in any shape or form, ready for this.

"Owen." I intone desperately. He grabs my shoulder, just as Turner takes in a zip of air.

"I've got you, Tris."

"Three!" Suddenly, Turner launches forward. Before I can even process his action, those around me have followed him into what could very well be a death trap. I don't have the will to move, but a hand on my shoulder drags me forward. My feet hit the pavement and Owen tugs me close. I hear gunshots up ahead, but there are too many of us for me to see who's shooting who, or what. Owen brings up his arm suddenly, gun out, and yells at me.

"Head down, Tris!" He shoves the back of my head towards him, and now my face is in his chest. I cradle my front into him as he fires his gun, again and again, and we keep running. Objects and substances crunch under my feet as Owen hauls me in different directions and shoots overhead. He shields me with his body and shouts at Turner whenever he can. But I can't see a thing. Everything is the colour of his shirt, so I shut my eyes and hide away from the commotion. And like the coward I clearly must be, all I do is pant and scream and hope for the best. Then I trip over a small bump and Owen shoves me forward. I fall into several pairs of arms now, and can finally open my eyes. I'm in a shadowed area now. When I look down at where I tripped, I spy the wedge of a doorframe. Owen quickly appears between the frame and slams the door shut. The people cradling my fall push me up to my feet, and I bump into Owen again. He looks up at me and grabs my arm.

"You alright?" He asks. I nod impulsively, though my entire body might be shaking. Owen taps the firearm that I have clutched uselessly in my hands. "Next time, use this and this," he taps my temple, "Okay?" He breathes. I give him another nod, which he bothers to return this time. He pats my shoulder hard before making his way passed me. I look back after him, and see that some of the others are already dispersing up the stairs, and through t the next room. I forgot we're here. That we've made it to the bakery. I instantly grip the firearm tighter, and try to follow after Owen, who is already on his way to the second room. He turns around at the sound of my footsteps and looks sternly at me.

"Don't follow me. Go upstairs after Tori and the others." He instructs in a sensible manner. I look up at him in confusion.

"You want us to separate?" I ask him in a small voice. He sighs, and looks into the other room, as if he's checking for the others. I grit my teeth and realise there is nothing more I can say to convince him otherwise. I swallow my pride and turn for the staircase. Now is not the time to think for myself. I have to think about Clare and Becky. Besides, Tori and the others are already way ahead of me.

"Tris," Owen hisses from below. I keep my feet planted to the ground, and stay steadily on the stairs. I do not turn to him when he speaks. "It'll be fine, I promise." He tells me. There is a pause between us before I hear a scuffle of shoes and then a swift turn. I don't need to turn back to check if he's still there, because I know he's gone. Instead, I stand up defiantly and continue up to the second floor. Each step is covered in a layer of dust littered with multiple footprints and dark substance. I assume it's blood. When I reach the top of the stairs, I bump right into a mass of bodies, which I quickly identify as Tori, Adam and Dallas. Dallas turns to me and shushes me jeeringly. I quickly correct myself and my stance, filing in behind them. We stand in a well-spaced hallway, painted a sloppy white and grey. Everything about this place is forlorn and I can almost hear the echoes of those who once worked here. On the right side of the hall I spot four doors, and to the left, only one. The one of the left is broad and metallic, with a heavy handle right in the centre of it. At the end of the hall lies another ascending staircase formed in a black spiral. We prowl down, falling entirely silent. The only noise that is audible to me is the sound of my own heartbeat. I'm starting to sweat irritably at my temples, hands and down the back of my neck. Dallas has his gaze locked on the right, Tori has hers on the left, and Adam seems to be watching the staircase up ahead. Where am I supposed to be looking? Behind us? From the side I catch Dallas nearing the first door. His hand nestles on the doorknob and he sucks in his breath. I want to call out and tell him to stop, but he opens it before I can. Tori, Adam and I crouch back and wait as Dallas pushes the door open noiselessly and peers inside. I expect to hear gunshots, but nothing happens for some time. Dallas pulls out of the doorway and looks back at us ambivalently.

"It's empty." He mutters as he shuts it. Adam and Tori glance between each other, before Dallas turns to face down the hall again. We resume the same approach as before, and slither towards each door like a pack of cunning animals. We near the second door, and I prepare myself this time. Dallas touches the doorknob and twists it. Just as he peers inside, I catch something in the corner of my eye and turn to face the metallic door on the left. The three circular glass panels by the door's side are what have my attention. I glance back at Dallas then turn towards the panels again. They make no sense to me for a moment, and then I peer closer. One of them is a timer, one has a number pad, and the other looks like it monitors temperature.

"What's that?" Comes a quiet voice at my side. I jump when I turn to face its owner. It's only Tori. I sigh and look back at the door. It has the tinniest little window just above my head, but I can't see through it because of the white, wispy steam pressed to the glass.

"A freezer, I guess." I respond in that same hushed tone.

"Pst." Comes a snap. Tori and I look back to see Dallas with an angered expression. "There's no time for chit-chat." He scolds, almost inaudibly. He has a point. I crouch again and follow after the three of them. We scale the walls and head for the third door. Just as Dallas's fingertips reach the broze doorknob, we hear a hum. No, not a hum. A whimper, maybe. The four of us remain entirely still as we wait for it to come again. I hear a muffled impact against something, and then the whimper comes back as a sharp yelp. It's Clare. Or Becky. It's someone. Dallas's hand slides off the doorknob, and we all begin to approach the final door. As we crowd around it wordlessly, we hear a harsh gurlge of a voice.

"…no. No, you're staying right here with us!" The man orders. He sounds older than us. Maybe in his thirties or forties. "No! You shut up and sit still!" He continues. I look up at Dallas with worry spreading like a wildfire across my face. He swallows hard and slides his finger over the trigger. His eyes dart from the doorknob to the three of us then back again. His motives are unclear to me until starts to bring his arms back, aiming his elbows by the doorknob. My heart leaps in my chest, and I almost loose my grip on my firearm. But I have to keep my head, and my focus. I watch Tori and Adam tense in front of me as Dallas holds his breath, and swings. This is it. The door slams open and Dallas lurches inside and almost immediately gunshots follow. Adam and Tori spill in and I know I have to as well. I rush through the door just in time for the man Dallas has hit to collapse to the ground, while another darts away behind a desk. Adam grabs my arm to pull me behind a set of crates, but as he does, I catch sight of Clare. She's in the center of the room, tied down in a chair. I see blood but I don't know where it's coming from. Her body disappears from view when I take shelter behind the crates and face the dull gray wall. I slide down to the floor as bullets are exchanged between Dallas and the man across the room. My biggest fear is that Clare gets helplessly caught in the crossfire. Dallas falls back behind the crates, cursing. When I turn to him I see blood at his wrist. He's been shot but it wasn't a direct hit. It's barely skimmed him but the impact is enough to break skin and draw blood. I lick my lips and stare at the wall again as Adam speaks.

"Clare!" He shouts. More gunshots. Adam ducks further towards the floor. "Clare, we're getting you out! Don't worry!" He calls. I slow my breathing and realize that Clare could already be dead. And where is Becky? Have they disposed of her already? Now is not the time to be afraid. Now is not the time to be Tristan Milligan. Now is the time to be like Owen. I suck in my breath and look up at as shadow moving across the wall. With whatever confidence I've managed to salvage, I twist on the spot and hold my firearm over the crates, exposing myself. I see the man moving away from the table and heading for the door at the end of the room. Adam grabs my arm just as my finger finds the trigger. "Tristan, get down! You're going to –" I fire. Once. Only once. And I blink just as I do it. I fear I've done something redundant and missed, or even worse, hit Clare. But instead the man cripples forward with a cry of pain. I haven't hit him anywhere vital, but when he collaspes to the ground I see that he clutches his calf. Everything becomes quieter as the man struggles on the floor. Dallas peeps up from the crates and stares at me for a moment.

"Good shot." He mutters in disbelief. I feel a wave of pride rush through me and know I've done my name some good.

"Clare." Adam gasps, bringing me back to my senses. I push aside my ego and look away from the man as Dallas goes to finish him off. I swerve around the crates towards the center of the room where Clare remains strapped down in a steel chair. The dry, hefty ropes are tied around her so tightly that they visibly pinch her skin. Adam kneels down beside her and drops his firearm, quickly going to untie her. The tears, both new and dry, down Clare's cheeks and neck are mixed in with an accumilation of sweat, and blood which leaks from her lips. She also has a piece of fabric that parts her mouth and prevents her from speaking. Her blue eyes are a sea of pain and without a moment's hesitation I start helping Adam with the ropes. I hear gunshots downstairs. Many of them. There isn't much time. I reach up and untie the fabric at Clare's mouth. When I pull it off her she gasps for air even if she'd been breathing out her nose.

"Becky!" She croaks instantly.

"Becky! Becky, where's Becky?" I ask her quickly, kneeling down by her side just as the ropes fall to the ground. I start to fan my face with my hands, feeling as if I'm losing breath by panicking. Clare's arms and neck are covered with streaks of pink, purple and red from pressure. With her hands finally free, she wipes blood from her chin and sways forward. Dallas and Adam are quick to steady her. She looks up at me.

"The freezer." She chokes out. My body stiffens and my heart stops.

"The freezer." I repeat, eyes widening in realization, "The freezer, oh god, she's in the freezer!" I find myself on my feet again and rushing out of the room. Tori is hot on my heels as we fall out into the hall and chase after the giant metallic door. When we reach it I drop my firearm and check the timer panel, which clearly reads eleven minutes. The temperature reads 14 degrees fahrenheit.

"We're too late." Tori deduces in a whisper. I shake my head.

"No, we can't be, Tor." I grasp the handle, turning the wheel along the arrow directory. Tori snatches my forearm.

"Tristan, we're too late – this is no time to play hero!" She bellows over me as the gunshots increase on the level beneath us.

"Yes, it is!" I snap back. Dallas and Adam reappear into the hall with Clare between them, holding onto their shoulders for support. I grab the wheel again and twist it, but it doesn't seem to be working. What if Tori's right? What if we really are too late? The handle doesn't budge. Not even slightly. "It's jammed." I speak the dreaded words. Clare gasps for air, but I'm sure her throat is too dry to form a sentence. It looks like she's trying to indicate something but I can't make out what she means. Adam and Dallas let her sink to the floor and they rush over, trying to turn the handle as well. Even with all their power it's not moving at all. It keeps getting stuck within the first three inches, then they shove back and try over and over again, thudding their entire weight into each pull. And it still doesn't move. Finally, Clare digs her nails into Dallas's ankle.

"2178!" She whimpers at first.

"What?" Dallas breathes. Clare looks up at him with her teary blue eyes and shakes her grip on him.

"2178!" She repeats, now louder and desperate. Then, a switch flicks in my brain. The pannels. I spin to the circular keypad and flip the glass over it open.

"Tristan?" Dallas questions.

"The password!" I exclaim, pressing my fingers to the faded keys. When I've finished, I hear a loud sibilant wheeze, and notice a form of icy white steam whistling out from the doorframe. The wheel begins to twist on its own. I stand back slightly and look at Clare, who rests against the wall and has her eyes shut, wheezing for air. For some reason that I do not understand, Adam catches my attention when he lurches forward impatiently and forcefully turns the wheel faster himself. His eagerness to get to Becky surprises me, just as it surprised me the day when we moved base. I don't understand his courage. And I probably never will. Nevertheless, he pulls and pulls until the door seemingly falls loose. Adam heaves it open and lets it slam to the wall. Steam tumbles out of the room quickly, and evaporates into the air. As the silver room begins to clear, we look straight through the doorframe. In the center, between empty shelves and crates, sits miss Sunshine State Becky Baker. Unlike Clare, the ropes remain around her wrists and ankles, but nowhere else at all. She sits motionlessly with her head ducked down and her hair over her face.

"Becky." Adam murmurs. When I glance back at him, the shock and fear riddled across his face is pallable. He bursts into the room and we quickly follow after him, leaving Tori outside with Clare. When we reach her I feel my body starting to become weak. We're too late, we're too late. I practically throw myself behind the chair and pull at the ropes on her hands. My skin meets hers, and I feel just how icy cold she's gone. Adam skids in front of her and his mouth opens, trying to form something, but all that leaves his lips are empty sentences. When I wrench the ropes off of her, her hands swing loosely through the air with no reaction. I crawl to where Adam is just as he reaches up and gently pushes her head back. My stomach lurches with bile. Her skin is paler than white paper. Her pink lips have gone blue, and a single line of blood trails down her chin. The crimson substance is frozen like ice. Her eyes are open but they're glassy and unmoving. Dead.

"Oh my god – "

"Holy…" Even Dallas turns away from her, with a hand to his lips. Adam remains in front of her, staring. His eyes become frantic as he holds Becky by her jaw. His face breaks in pain.

"She's freezing." He whispers. Dallas has his hands on the back of his neck, and his eyes are shut as he shakes his head.

"We're too late, man." He says. Adam stares at Becky's face. He's still trying to speak, but nothing's coming again. All he does now is shake his head.

"No." He says, barely audibly.

"Adam, she's dead, there's nothing we can – "

"No!" Adam intones harshly. To my surprise, he's crying now. I'm sure of it by the rise and fall of his breath and the way his voice breaks. He holds Becky's face in both his hands. "Becky. Becky, wake up, you're fine. It's fine. Everything's fine." He tells her. She can't hear him. I know that she can't. I sit back and trying to ease the unsettled feeling in my stomach. "Becky, please!" He begs now. My insides twist. I hear him shake her. "Come on! Don't do this! Just…" His voice trails off, and the room grows horrifically silent except for the gunshots and yelling downstairs. I hear Adam sniff. "She's not dead and we're taking her with us." He states firmly. At this, I lift my gaze and catch him trying to pull Becky up.

"Adam, she's gone."

"No! She's not, she's breathing!" Adam yells back. I frown and lean forward. A strand of blonde hair that hangs just in front of Becky's parted, bloodied lips sways back and forth softly. Becky is alive.

"Dallas, she's breathing – she's alive!" I shout quickly. Dallas rushes over, staring with wide eyes. Adam tries holding Becky up again but it's no use.

"I can't carry her. You're going to have to. I'll support Clare, at least she can stand." He says sternly, glaring at Dallas. Dallas nods and swallows hard. He hauls Becky's arm over his neck and starts to pull her up. I watch as Adam's jaw tightens and wipes the tears off his cheeks. By the look on his face, I can tell that he doesn't want me to ask about his desperate attempts to save Becky. I keep my mouth shut. For now. Just as Dallas has an arm under Becky's knees and manages to hold her up – I hear a scream from outside. And what's worse is that I know that scream more than anything. I've heard it over and over in the back of the van, and late night in bed.

"Tori!" I call, dashing passed Dallas. Adam accompanies me and when we emerge through the room, my worst fears are met. There is a man just behind Tori, and he has her in his arms. But he is weaponless. His eyes meet mine and things are even worse than I imagined. He's infected. I slap my hand to my side for my gun, but I remember dropping it by the door earlier. My heart stops in fear. Adam, however, fires before I can just as Tori squeals again. The infected man falls back with a groan. Tori bends over, clutching her shoulder. I race for her. "Tor…" I say in a consoling voice. Just as I touch her arm, she snaps a hand forward and slams it into me. The force of her push shoves me back onto Adam. Blood dribbles from her shoulder down her arm. My eyes dart up for just a second to see an open wound at the collar of her shirt. I look at her face, she's crying.

"Tris, go." She says under her breath. My eyes widen and I step forward again. "Tris, go!" She repeats in a scream.

"No!" I shout back. "You're my bestfriend, and we're getting out of here! We're going home! It's just a scratch!" I plead while my eyes begin to sting. Adam voice comes in at my shoulder.

"It… it's not…" He whispers hoarsely. Tori grasps her shoulder and the look on her face is so painful that I feel it in my bones. Adam takes my wrist but I shove him back and rush for Tori again. I cup her face.

"Tori! Wake! Up!" I shout. She begins to shake her head.

"No, Tris, you don't understand… Zig – I want this! I want this for Zig, Tris!" When she says this, I begin to realize that she never did call for help. She waited for the man to attack her. She didn't even shoot. I clutch her, shaking my own head as my tears begin to race down my cheeks.

"No. No, Tori, it's just a scatch! You'll be fine!" I tell her. Adam grabs me again, pulling me away from her.

"I won't, Tris." Tori says shakily. Adam parts me from her, and another set of hands suggests that Clare must be standing too. A cry wrenches through me.

"Tori! Come with us right now!" I order desperately. She moves away from me, and the blood seeps through her shirt. "Tori!" I call.

"It's not just a scratch, Tristan! Any contact with an infected person by blood will turn you into one of them!" Dallas shouts, he's further down the hallway at the stairs. I stare at Tori's face through my blurred vision and reach out for her again.

"Tristan!" Adam shouts.

"No, Tori!"

"We have to go!" Dallas roars. My fingers touch hers just as Adam yanks me away. The force is so great that I almost topple over onto the floor. I thrash in Adam and Clare's arms but they're too strong and I'm too weak. In a couple of seconds I'm being dragged down the stairs. I look up, screaming for her. The last I see of Tori is her cradling herself to the wall, and sinking against it to the floor. I'm enraged. I'm blinded by tears and I just keep screaming. I have no idea where they're taking me, and I don't care what happens on our way there. All I know is that Tori is upstairs on her own and she's been infected. All I know is that she's my bestfriend. That I love her. That I will always love her. Everything is a mix of colors and voices, but I can't quite put anything into focus. I only begin to collect myself when I feel metal beneath me and find myself in the van again. I curl up on my own and dig my nails into my skull. I think I'm saying her name on repeat. My lips form the two syllables over and over but I don't know if I'm speaking. I don't even know if I'm awake. I feel hands on me as the van races down a road. Everybody is yelling, but I can't make out what they say. A harsher touch suggests that Owen is one person comforting me. A softer one may be Maya. Whoever they are, they can't help me right now.

I see Tori's face as she slides to the ground in tears. The despair she wore. The words she said. I want this. I want this for Zig, Tris! It was suicide all along. She brought this onto herself and she always intended to. After what seems like hours, but may only be a matter of twenty minutes, I finally can see again. I look up from my hands, and see that Owen and Maya have not left my side. Maya's face is burried against me, and I can see her shaking with tears. Everyone else's faces come into focus and I can see where the yelling is coming from. Adam and Luke are having a go at one another again. The ringing in my ears slowly begin to fade as I blink myself back to reality.

"…you get your hands off of her because I'm her brother and I say so!" Luke's voice wavers through the thin air. I look ahead and see Becky in Adam's arms now. Even Dallas holds a part of her. I know what they're doing, they're using their body heat to bring her back to consciousness. Adam yells something but once again his voice fades out and I can't understand the rest of the conversation. Suddenly, Becky lifts a shaky hand at it touches Adam's neck. He jumps and stops mid-sentence, glaring down at her. She blinks slowly and lifts her gaze to look up at him. "Becky!" Luke gasps, trying to scoot his way towards them.

"Stay away, Luke." I hear her mutter.

"Becky, I was so worried about – "

"Stay away, Luke!" Her voice cracks and Luke stops right where he is. His face, along with Adam's, falters in shock. Becky, now shivering, looks back at her brother. The bitterness on her face is frightening. "You're never there for me! You never help me – everyone else does! How come you don't? You're Christian! You're my brother and you never help me!" She cries. I know she intends to be loud and demanding but her voice is so weak that she can barely raise it at all.

"Well, Becky, I…" Luke's eyes widen as Becky hides her face in Adam's shoulder and clutches him, shaking with what may be relief, fear or sadness. Whatever it is, it shocks all of us. Did someone smack some sense into her when I wasn't looking? Adam holds her carefully, and the touch is so familiarly delicate that I crumple back into a mess of limbs. Tori's gone. She's gone. More than anything I want to see my bestfriend again. I want to see her smile at me one more time and tell me that I'm special. But she's gone. In fact, she's been gone for some time now. But she has nothing to be scared of anymore. Now she is fearless.