Fearless

by Sarah Tarkoff

As he was preparing his exit, however, the accountant remembered: “I saw that social worker get Punished, too.”

  “When?”

  “She got food poisoning, she was sick and throwing up for a couple days, and the next time I saw her, her face looked all messed up.” Zack vaguely remembered her skipping a couple workouts.

  “You don’t know what she did?”

  “Nope.”

  And then Zack had an idea. “Where did they take her? When she got sick?”

  “There’s a medic on the grounds. We passed his office on our runs, that building behind the big tree.”

  Outside. The medic was outside.

  Zack left and found Jenna in her room, alone. “I know how to get you out.”

  6

  Zack had faked being sick plenty of times, pre-Revelation. But Jenna had the advantage of never having been Punished for lying, so she was an expert. Within minutes, she’d worked herself into a sweat. She gagged herself to induce vomiting, leaving residue on her clothing.

  “Authentic,” Zack admired.

  She grinned, the “sick” facade dropping immediately. “Thanks.” She seemed to take pride in the ways she was able to deceive people . . . a trait that left Zack unsettled.

  He helped Jenna draw a map based on their memories of the grounds, and she listened intently as he laid out the plan. “They’ll take you to this room here. When the nurse goes into the storage closet to get you some medication, you’ll have a window to escape.” As he spoke, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He could get kicked out of the program for this. He had a feeling jail time could be involved. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he trusted this woman—someone he knew all too well he shouldn’t trust.

  But she was out the door, with barely an expression of gratitude for the risk he might be taking. Whatever help he’d given her, it was up to her to escape.

  That evening, he picked at his dinner, trying not to listen as others speculated on her absence. “I wonder if she figured out who it is,” the NYPD officer pondered. “Maybe she moved on to the next phase or something.” It hadn’t occurred to Zack that he might be the only one who suspected her. He wondered if her attempt at escape might be the thing that led people to consider her.

  But then, as dinner ended, there she was. All cleaned up. Grabbing food for the road. “How are you feeling?” Zack asked her.

  She shrugged. “Medic told me whatever bug I had must have passed.” She said no more. Zack suddenly considered the possibility that they were being watched, a worry that seemed to be confirmed moments later, as they were herded into a meeting room for a stern lecture.

  “You’ve had a month to get to know your fellow recruits,” Esther said. “Which leads me to believe someone’s being held back by loyalty. Loyalty is not rewarded in this program.”

  There went Zack’s theory about testing for piousness.

  “In case you thought, ‘perhaps this person isn’t so bad,’ I’m going to tell you a little more about them.”

  The story began simply . . . a person with two loving parents, who struggled to manage their difficult child. Then those loving parents went missing, presumed dead. The child, armed with their inherited life savings, began a life of conning. Growing close to people, earning their trust, seemingly innocent and helpless, and when his or her use for their mark was over, the mark would mysteriously disappear.

  Jenna’s face showed no emotion as Esther continued to list her crimes.

  “You see, when one lives without Punishment from Great Spirit, there is no limit to the pain they can cause others. The peace that’s swept around the world relies on human beings trusting one another. The moment they realize they can’t, they shouldn’t, that peace will descend into chaos. If any of you decide now that you don’t want to be a part of this force, helping Great Spirit to preserve His utopia, you’re welcome, as you always have been, to leave the program.” Her words had a finality to them, and Zack realized then what he needed to do.

  As everyone headed back to their rooms, still consumed by the mystery, Zack approached Esther, speaking in hushed tones. “It’s Jenna.”

  Esther pulled him aside and pulled out a voice recorder. “Why? Why do you say that?” He was uneasy, speaking ill of his friend on the record, but he felt like he had no choice. After Zack listed his observations, Esther turned the tape off.

  “Well done,” she said.

  Jenna was waiting in the hallway as Zack exited the room alone. Her voice was ragged, betrayed. “You gave me up, didn’t you?”

  Zack held firm. “You lied to me.”

  Her anger rose to the surface. “They lied to you. You believe any of that? You think this is anything more than propaganda? We’re in some kind of Nazi brainwashing center, don’t you realize that? They’re turning you into a monster, they’re dehumanizing people like me. Even if my brain works differently, that doesn’t make me evil . . .”

  Zack was too exhausted to fight her. “Jenna, I don’t want to have this conversation.” He walked away, shaking.

  The next day, he was the only one at breakfast.

  7

  No Jenna, no other recruits. No dining hall staff either, not even a speck of food. As he looked around in confusion, Esther entered. “Congratulations.” Her voice was warm, welcoming.

  Zack was still on edge. “Where is everyone?”

  “They were all told they advanced to the next stage of the program, and that you and Jenna failed. But as I’m sure you’ve guessed, that’s a lie. Each pool of recruits only nets us one agent. You’re that agent.”

  It didn’t seem fair to Zack. Jenna had pursued him. She was the reason they became close, not any special investigative skills on his part. Really it was luck, that the one person he got to know over the course of the program was the only one who mattered. He tried to express this to Esther, but his concerns were dismissed.

  “Do you want to forfeit your spot? I’m sure one of the others would be glad to step in.”

  Zack almost said yes. The emotional toll the program had taken on him thus far was overwhelming. He still felt guilty for turning in Jenna—maybe she was some kind of devil-worshipping sadist, but he’d developed feelings for her. She’d thought she applied for the program just like everyone else—little did she know that in her psych profile, instead of vetting her to be CIA, they’d singled her out as an example, exploited her as a test case. He could chalk it up as karmic retribution for all the times she’d exploited others, but as a man who’d come of age in such a moral time, he didn’t like the idea of retribution.

  Then Esther started talking about duty, about honor, about serving one’s country—ideals that had always struck a chord for Zack. And in that moment, he knew he had to do anything he could to protect the nation he loved so dearly. Though he believed in Great Spirit, he’d always worshipped a different master—patriotism—and when invoked, he had to glorify that god.

  Zack followed Esther outside the compound, into the sunlight. He was released! Whatever training still lay ahead, just being out in the fresh air again was some relief. For a moment, he wondered where he should go, what he should do next. But then Esther answered the question for him; she walked into another building, and he followed her down another corridor, to a different set of doors. Dread built inside him—was he about to start this terrible process all over again?

  “Step inside,” Esther said, and he could tell that any questions he asked now would go unanswered.

  So Zack did as he was told, and the doors closed behind him. He was alone in a large, strange, square room—every surface, walls, floor, and ceiling, were all composed of a hard, porous brown material. He ran his fingers across odd dents in the walls, wondering what might have caused them, before a door on the other side opened, and Jenna entered with a smirk. “So, you’re the other sociopath.”

  “What?” Zack asked. They regarded each other, wary, from opposite sides of the room.

  “There were two of us. You almost had me fooled, w
ith that loverboy schtick. It was sweet.”

  Zack bristled. “I’m not a sociopath. I caught you, that was the game.”

  Jenna scoffed. “And I caught you. And first.”

  Zack was getting irritated now. He knew Jenna was trying to manipulate him, trying to gain the upper hand. She thought she could win something by messing with his mind, and he had no patience for that. “This isn’t going to work, lying to me.”

  “Why would I lie to you? We’re the same.” She took a slinking step forward, never breaking eye contact with him.

  “No, Jenna, we’re not.”

  “Embrace it, Zack. It’s a good thing. We’re special. Great Spirit’s favorites, right?”

  It was then that he noticed a glass case in the center of the room. He couldn’t see what was inside it, but he saw that Jenna had been edging toward it ever so subtly. As he worked his way closer, he asked her, “If we’re favored, why did we spend all that time learning to identify people like us?”

  “Because the government needs us. Needs people who can do things that others can’t. It’s our job to bring them in. Recruit them. Convince them to help us.”

  He finally saw what was in the glass case. An item he’d become so familiar with over the previous month. A gun.

  8

  He understood then why Jenna was distracting him. She was now much closer to the gun. He could make a gamble, run for it, but she might make it there first. He didn’t know how hard the case would be to open, and even if he succeeded, Jenna might be skilled enough to disarm him.

  So he didn’t head for the glass, he headed around it, toward Jenna. He’d watched the way she manipulated people, the levers she pushed—and he had a feeling he could push hers right back. “I don’t know what I am,” he said as convincingly as he could. “I want to say you’re wrong, but who’s completely self-aware, right?” They’d taken enough of the same psych classes to share a chuckle at that. Zack continued, “I do know I have feelings though. Even sociopaths have feelings.”

  “They do,” Jenna said evenly.

  “And I have feelings for you. Maybe that proves I’m normal, maybe it doesn’t.” He was steps away from her—he just had to keep up this act a little longer.

  She seemed wary, didn’t like him this close. “You don’t have feelings for me.”

  “Of course I do,” he said, a little bit of the truth seeping in. “Why else would I have spent all that time with you? Why would I have waited so long to turn you in? I’m not saying I’m in love with you. I’m just saying—what you and I had was real.”

  Her voice was quiet now. Moved. “I know it was real.” For a moment, they were both taken aback by each other.

  Maybe Jenna was lying. Sociopaths don’t have the same capacity for love, Zack reminded himself. But maybe, Zack thought, whatever had transpired between them did mean something to her.

  And then he saw Jenna glance at the glass case. Instinctively, he lunged ahead of her, reached it first. In a race of strength and speed, he was always going to win. The case opened easily, with a latch at the bottom, and as her fingers reached ahead of him to grab the gun, he was able to wrestle her away, grab it himself, and back away to a distance of a few feet.

  Whatever sweet moment they’d shared was gone. The facade of affection was over, and Jenna seemed genuinely fearful. But she gave him a sad smile. “I told you on the first day, didn’t I? That it’d come down to just the two of us?”

  “Prescient,” he said, amused.

  Jenna started to tear up. “Don’t do that,” Zack said, anxiety rising.

  “I’m smarter than you!” she cried. It wasn’t a manipulation this time, Zack realized, it was a meltdown. “This isn’t fair. You aren’t special, I’m special.”

  Zack watched, not sure what he was supposed to do with the gun in his hands. He didn’t see a reason to kill her. She was locked up, what would be the purpose of that? But no one was coming out and declaring him the victor, saying he was ready to serve his country. And he knew Jenna well enough to know that his position of power wouldn’t last. When her meltdown ended, she’d realize he was too weak-willed to kill her, which meant she’d have a chance to get the gun out of his hands. And unlike him, she wouldn’t hesitate to use that chance. She’d see it as proving her mettle, proving her ability to thrive under pressure, to outwit a stronger opponent.

  Maybe that’s all this program was, he thought. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was a training ground for sociopaths themselves. Instead of a group of potential agents, rising to the top by sorting out who the sociopath was, what if the goal was to see if she could outsmart them all? Pick out her greatest competition, and pull his heartstrings as a defense. The more he considered it, the closer he came to pulling the trigger.

  But still he didn’t. Her lips curled into a sneer. “You aren’t going to do it, are you?”

  “I’d like to avoid it,” he admitted.

  She yelled up at the ceiling, “Okay, he got me!”

  Silence.

  “Well, I tried,” she said. She sat down in the corner. “If you’re not going to kill me, I’m going to rest my legs.”

  Zack’s instinct was to sit as well, but he knew better. He kept the gun trained on her. “Face the wall, lie on your stomach, put your hands on your head.”

  “Jeez, chill out.” But after a moment, she did as she was told.

  He looked around the room. There must be some trick here. He looked at the glass case—flipped it open and closed, but nothing happened.

  He looked back to Jenna, lying in the corner. And closed his eyes as he squeezed the trigger. BANG. Jenna screamed as the bullet hit the wall above her.

  “What the hell!” She instinctively sat up and glared at him.

  Zack had hoped his intentionally wide shot might evoke some response from the outside world, but there was still nothing. He walked over and took a look at the bullet in the wall—it was real all right. He opened the chamber—five bullets left.

  “Hey, do I really have to kill her?” he called out to the ceiling. There must be a speaker of some kind in here, a camera, some way of monitoring them. No answer.

  “What are you going to do?” Jenna asked, boredom seeping into her voice.

  Zack felt defeated. “I’m not a sociopath. Great Spirit will Punish me if I kill you, so what’s the difference?”

  “Unless you’re killing me in self-defense,” she suggested slyly.

  He glared at her. “That’s not allowed either. Not that you’d know.”

  “So if you’re not killing me, I guess, given enough time, I’ll have to kill you.” Her smile was vicious.

  Zack looked at the imposing metal doors on both sides of the room. He raised the gun and fired all five remaining shots into them, one after another. Jenna covered her ears as the rattling metal echoed around them. “What the hell?” Zack kept shooting, click click click, even after the bullets were long gone from the chamber.

  When he was finally satisfied the gun was empty, Zack heaved all his weight on the bullet-ridden metal—it still wouldn’t budge. He stepped back to catch his breath, when one of the doors on the opposite side of the room cracked open, nudged from the outside. Zack ran toward the open door, only to watch another glass case slide through the small opening. Just as he reached the door, it slammed shut again. Zack didn’t even have to look—he knew that inside that second glass case was a second gun.

  This time, Jenna didn’t hesitate. She was across the room in a second, lunging for the case. She had her hands around it, and Zack had to pry her fingers from the glass. Despite how poorly she’d performed in those physical trials, with her adrenaline rushing she was a force to be reckoned with.

  “Let go of me!” she cried out. She clawed at his bare arms, drawing blood. He shoved her roughly, with a physicality he’d never used on anyone before, much less a woman. Her head slammed into the wall behind her, and she screamed expletives he hadn’t heard since pre-Revelationary times. He scrambled away, glass ca
se in hand, and pulled out the gun.

  Jenna crawled to grab the first, now empty gun he’d left lying on the floor, then lunged at Zack’s ankles. She slammed his Achilles’ heel with the butt of the gun, bringing him to his knees. She grabbed for the loaded weapon, and Zack instinctively pulled the trigger. The bullet went over her shoulder, but it scared her, and she backed away, up against the wall.

  “I’m sorry,” Zack said, genuinely stunned himself.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I bet you are.” She was poised to pounce, pissed and ready to claw at him until she’d gotten that gun. As she moved toward him, he steeled himself, focused the sight, and closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger.

  When he opened them, she was still there, advancing on him, angrier than ever. He found himself shooting again. And again. The last bullet finally made impact, hitting her in the side. The sound it made, she made, when the bullet hit, would stay with him for years to come, a kind of slick thump. She cried out and dropped to the floor, clutching her side.

  He stayed poised over her, gun lasered in on her heart—but she didn’t bleed, like he expected her to. She’d passed out when she hit the ground, and now she lay there, totally still. Still breathing.

  They must not have been real bullets, he thought with immense relief. They were something else, like tranq darts, or maybe some other technology he wasn’t familiar with. There was still a chance she’d survive.

  He retreated to the other side of the room, gun still trained on her in case she woke up, and weighed down by the enormity of what he’d just tried to do. The sin he would have committed, if the bullets had been real.

  The doors opened, a tease—just enough to dispense a tray with a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. Zack went for the opening in the door, but it closed before he could reach it.

  Though he felt ill with guilt, he also hadn’t eaten yet today. The silence around him suggested that this was his next mandatory task, so in an exhausted, mechanical haze, he chowed down on the sandwich, never letting go of his gun, or losing sight of Jenna. As he ate, he felt his strength returning, his guilt melting away.