by C. C. Lynch
The door clicked behind me leaving the walls to be my only company once again. A loud and obnoxious sigh of disapproval left my mouth before I dropped onto the bottom bunk and lay there to get lost in my thoughts. While staying in the A room I was allowed to leave the room and walk the short hallway of similar detainee suites. The hall was secure, but it was still a hint of freedom that was not allowed in any other accommodation. I tried pulling at the door in my new room, but it was locked. Apparently the ability to roam a short distance was granted for only the best behavior. I was trying to behave, but I certainly was not going to act like a brainwashed fool.
Boredom rocked me to sleep. A short time passed before a female voice jolted me awake. “That’s my bunk,” it had said.
“Sorry,” I sat up and looked at the girl in the doorway. Pale lavender locks rested on her shoulders. Her vibrant green eyes seemed to shimmer below her perfectly arched pale blonde eyebrows, bringing my attention away from the scar of a corrected cleft lip. She had on jeans and a grey Replyx t-shirt. I wondered how she had the privilege of wearing half a normal wardrobe, but I did not particularly feel like asking.
“What are you in here for?” She asked once I had scooted onto the top bunk.
The way she had asked made me feel like I was in jail. “Excuse me?” My voice somehow sounded both strained and annoyed.
A short haughty laugh preceded her explanation. “Your gift. What gift sets you apart from the others that made you a lucky target?”
My gut told me to lie to her. She was a stranger and did not need to know I was a replicator. “I’m a healer. Jeremiah and his men raided Glaston Academy and I was one of the students to get transported here.”
She swung her legs onto the bed and sat next to me. Apparently personal space was not an issue for her. “I haven’t seen you around the exercises so either you’re very new or you’re just a pain in the ass for them.”
“I keep trying to heal Jeremiah and I guess he does not approve.” I shrugged and looked down at my fingers that were squeezing one another anxiously. “What about you?”
“I’m Lacey,” she put her hand out to shake mine. “I’m a manipulator.”
Why were there so many manipulators? “There sure are a lot of you around.”
“Yeah,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “We each have our specialty so they like to get all sorts of different ones to try and discern whatever it is that sets us apart.”
“Wait,” I put my hands up in a stop position in front of me. “What do you mean?”
She sighed and looked up preparing her explanation. “Okay, so let’s say that healers are historians and manipulators are scientists. There are hundreds of different types of scientists and a few different types of historians. We were born with our minds geared with a particular subject. There’s one person here that is good at making people see certain things, another here can control a person’s actions like one of those zombie parasites, and I can warp people’s memories.” She shrugged, “So it’s like there’s an ophthalmologist, parasitologist, and psychologist here.” After a long pause she continued, “perhaps you’re better with humans than the environment. Go ahead and finish the analogy for me.”
“Makes sense,” I nodded and leaned against the cold wall.
Vlaine had never explained that each mental manipulator had a different skill, that it was just an umbrella term for a bunch of different abilities. I suppose I had never asked him, but I should have known seeing how Will had made me see him as Jay and Erik had his strange tingly touch manipulation.
Lacey cocked her head to the side. “Can you heal yourself?”
“I’ve never tried,” I admitted, “but I can heal animals pretty well.”
Lacey twirled a chunk of hair around her fingers. “You probably can’t, most healers can only fix other things.” She had said it matter-of-factly but gave a sympathetic side glance.
It was the first time I was communicating with anyone my age, aside from Erik, since I was at Glaston Academy. The way she skipped all formalities and just jumped right into a personal conversation struck me as strange. I figured that if I were to meet anyone at Replyx there would be at least a few days of weariness before going right to personal topics, but I liked how she was so open. It was a welcomed change.
Seeing how she was not afraid to ask questions, I figured I should not be either. “How long have you been here?”
“Oh,” she shook her head and began primping her cuticles, “over a year.” My brows clinched together as I began to apologize for whatever she’s been through but she put her hand in my face. “Don’t pity me. It was bad for the first couple months but once you agree to work with them things begin to get better.”
I stared at her blankly waiting for a further explanation. She had been here for over a year and knew the ins and outs of Replyx far more than I could. I bet she even knew how to get out of the building.
I twisted my lip in contemplation. Part of me wanted to know what life was like if I were to comply, but the other part did not even want to consider I could be stuck at Replyx for that long. “So, what do I have to look forward to here?”
“The process is different for everyone but it is usually a four trial period: physical, mental, emotional, and a battle. Don’t let the last one scare you because the emotional is way harder than any of the other ones. The battle is a test of the other three by using your gift. Whoever can use their gift most effectively wins. There’s barely ever a life lost.” She snickered to herself like it was a personal joke.
It was hard not to be intimidated by the term “battle.” If there were any other replicators, there was no telling what skills they had in their arsenal. “What exactly do you ‘win’?”
“Freedom!” She rested her head on her interlaced fingers against the wall and looked at the cracked and peeling ceiling. “That’s when you get the option to work for Replyx.”
“Oh.” I did not know what to say to that. Did she really find that working for Replyx was the best outcome? I would imagine that freedom for me would be leaving and never looking back. How much had this place warped her mind?
Lacey pointed to me like she had an epiphany. “You’re wondering why I’m stuck in this room instead of in a worker’s suite. If you mess up a task then you get punished and have to get put back into the battles. Don’t worry about me though,” she flicked her hand, “I know how to win. I have won nearly half a dozen times now.”
That meant she also messed up nearly half a dozen times. “Great,” I nodded, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to try and get some rest. It was nice to meet you Lacey.”
“Nice to meet you too, Abrielle.” She winked before jumping to the ground.
I had never told her my name but she spoke it like it had slipped through her lips a thousand times. Her knowledge of my name was irking and I was tempted to dig into her mind and see what she was thinking, what she knew. Would she know if I did? My internal battle of whether or not to dig into Lacey’s mind was short lived, as I fell asleep far too soon to go memory diving.
Erik’s tradition remained and he visited when I was deep in a dream. It was the sort of peaceful dream that, when ripped from it, I was angry to have had to leave. The sudden weight of his body plopping onto my feet startled me so much that, had I not been anchored by his weight, I surely would have fallen off the bunk.
“Seriously, does anyone know what personal boundaries are around here?” I groaned.
He shimmied his rear off my feet and raised a satirical brow. “My invasion of your boundary just saved you from falling off the bed.”
“No,” I clenched my teeth and buried my face in the scratchy blanket. “I wouldn’t have almost fallen off the bed if you didn’t land as gracefully as a rhinoceros on top of me.”
His face was turning red from holding back his laughter. “I just wanted to congratulate you for graduating to a B room, finally.”
I pulled my legs into my chest and pursed my lips, unent
hused. “Thanks, maybe tomorrow you can bring me a graduation cap and cake.”
“If that’s what you want.” He squeezed my knee before I sent an annoyed kick to his hip.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, Erik. Just make sure to decorate the cap with pictures of us and all the fun times we’ve had together. Maybe you can put our initials on there too in a glittery glue heart saying best friends forever.” Erik’s eyes sparkled with the idea, as if he was mentally decorating the hypothetical item. Before his imagination could get carried away I put my pillow over my face and mumbled that what I really wanted was to go back to sleep. Despite my agitation, Erik was never fazed by my harsh tones. He continued on conversing about nonsense that I cared very little to hear about.
Before exiting the room he turned to my roommate and gave a disgusted sneer to Lacey. “Screwed up again, I see.”
The one sentence had more venom than I knew Erik was capable of exhibiting. I leaned over the bed to glance at Lacey who was smiling, but fiddling with her hair nervously.
Her eyes met mine and though I meant to ask her how she knew Erik, what came out was “What was that all about?”
“Mmmm,” Lacey sounded like she was eating her favorite dessert, “don’t you want to just run your hands through those gorgeous locks?”
Apparently she did not want to answer my question. “What? Erik’s?” I could not hide the surprise from my voice.
“Yes,” she squealed excitedly.
I searched my mind for a way to sanely give in to the girl talk that she was clearly trying to start. “Yeah, I guess he’s decent looking.”
Vlaine was handsome. He was the only one I thought about in a non-platonic way. Thinking about him made my chest hurt. I missed him. I honestly missed Liz too. The next time I saw Liz I was going to hug her tightly and never again be irritated with how taciturn she could be.
“Decent?” She sputtered, standing to meet my gaze. “He is chiseled perfection topped with wispy locks of pure gorgeous. Who could possibly hold your interest over Erik?”
Lacey’s enthrallment with Erik was grating. She was only being a girl, something that I had wanted desperately while I was at Glaston. Why was it bothering me so much now that I was finally able to divulge in the scrumptious details of all things juicy and gossip? Perhaps because it made me miss Vlaine that much more or maybe because I was trying so hard to tolerate Erik when I particularly abhorred his part in my abduction. The answer was most likely both.
“Erik’s just not my type.” I placed a strategically girly smile across my lips and added, “he’s all yours.”
The tips of her cheekbones just beneath her eyes grew pink before she turned away to tousle her hair. “What is your type?”
The words “not a manipulator” almost left my mouth, but I clamped it shut before I could possibly dig that hole. “I go for the bad boys, I guess.”
“Bad boys, huh?” A girly giggle escaped her lips. “I thought for sure you would be ogling the lacrosse captain or something like that.”
“Did your academy have a lacrosse team?” My eyebrows flew up at my surprise of the sudden fall of my walls allowing girl talk to slip through.
It seemed to have surprised her as much as it did myself. “I don’t remember,” she said quickly before finishing the conversation with an equally as quick “goodnight, Abrielle.”
“Night Lacey,” I mumbled.
Erik was back on the bunk the first thing in the morning with a coffee in his hands. I offered a half smile before taking the beverage and inhaling the aroma that I hadn’t had the privilege of enjoying in over a month. He did not force conversation, just simply allowed me to enjoy my coffee in silent peace.
Lacey rolled out of bed with her hair in a messy pony tail that somehow looked impressively attractive and waved her fingers before leaving the room. Erik ignored her and looked at the opposite wall as she left.
“What’s your deal with her?” I inquired noticing how cold he was to my lilac headed roommate.
He shrugged and continued on with the morning silence.
My interest was piqued. Why would he give her the cold shoulder treatment?
“I didn’t know it was possible for you to not like someone.” I raised an inquisitive brow.
His face twisted as if he had something vile resting on his tongue. “She’s a manipulator.”
I guffawed so loud he jumped. “You are a manipulator.”
“She’s a different type of manipulator.” Erik somehow looked even more disgusted.
“So you’re like…” I searched for the correct word, “branchist?”
Erik’s lip tugged upwards in a slight smile. “She has too much power and I don’t trust her.”
Visions of my freedom flashed before my eyes with the possibility of Lacey being a strong enough gifted girl to get us out of Replyx.
“I’m a replicator.” I pointed to my chest. “I have too much power,” I countered.
Erik’s eyes softened as he held my gaze. “You met her, you touched her, are you going to go mess with anyone’s memories?”
“Ew, no, I cannot imagine how that could benefit anyone.” My thoughts ran quickly like a marquee in my mind. “I mean, maybe if they had a really traumatic experience or something. But how exactly do you figure out the morality of that?”
“See,” he pointed at me, “you’re not going to go around and mess with people’s minds. You are trustworthy. Lacey is a banshee in disguise.”
It was the first time I had seen Erik show any sort of fear or contempt towards anyone. If he abhorred Lacey so much, how could he have been friends with Vlaine knowing he was capable of equally despicable things? I wanted to ask him, but I did not want to mention Vlaine’s name in the chance that it would put their attention on another person I cared about. It was bad enough that they had Nicholas whose wellbeing was still unknown to me.
“Where is your mind?” His hand was drawing near my arm and I flicked it away.
Shaking my head I leapt from the bed. “What is the plan for today? Which part of the trials am I completing now?”
The muscles in his jaw were tensing. “Don’t listen to anything that witch has to say.” Following my lead he got down and opened the door. “You’re on a different track than the others. Today is another medical screening.”
“I thought I was done with the medical stuff.” I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. Erik cocked a brow and remained silent despite my concern.
I let out an exasperated sigh and followed Erik to the elevator that led to the “medical” offices. I knew the hallway well. Six doors lined the left and five were on the right. The hall was designated for females only. I had no idea where the males were, but there were four floors we needed to descend in order to get to the one with the medical screening. I had never seen any exits but I was waiting for any sort of hope on the matter. Not that I expected to see a bright neon exit sign that would lead me to a nice paved parking lot where I could just grab a taxi and head off to my family, but I still had hope.
Jeremiah was already seated at a table in the room and Beatrice was on my heels. She handed me a packet, her eyes never met mine. “Please complete this psychological survey.”
I had done countless assessments for them at this point. At first I had tried to keep my answers secretive so that they could not get an actual read on me. Unfortunately, there was no way I could keep up any façade with so many different answers and no possible way to know their end game.
I knew there were telepaths around, but I could not figure out why I had to take these assessments when there were people around with the sole purpose to do precisely that. The only thing I could guess was that they were trying to jog certain memories or thoughts by giving me the paperwork and listening in while I answered. I tried to emulate the gift of the musical boy whenever I filled out the forms so that they could not get a read on my mind.
“All set.” I pushed the papers in front of Beatrice.
She nodded towar
ds a mirror and a few moments later Slade and Luther came into the room to escort me back to my newest quarters. I had been there for a good hour before Erik came to take me to lunch. After being locked up in solitary for so long the privilege of being able to interact with another person and eat food was virtually overwhelming.
The smell of soup met us as the elevator doors opened. I could see a large opening where a cafeteria stood but he took me into a conference room just before the cafeteria itself. Food was already set out and he nodded for me to choose a sandwich. I made my way to the one that looked like it had more vegetables and sat down.
Moments of silence passed until I finally took the liberty of speaking first. “How is Nicholas doing these days?”
I was scared to look at him, scared to find the worst possibility in his eyes. When I did look at him he was staring at his food as if he had never heard my question.
“Erik,” I cleared my throat, “is Nicholas okay?”
“Don’t worry about him, princess, he’s in a suite living the dream of skipping all those boring senior classes.” He never allowed me to see the truth in his eyes, he never looked my way. The fact that he was avoiding eye contact meant that he was lying.
“Fine,” I huffed, aggravated with his lack of desire to divulge information about my best friend. “How am I on a different track than the other people here?”
“You,” he paused to take a bite of his sandwich and continued while both masticating his food and conversing, “are a rare breed in these parts. We cannot exactly complete the physical profile without others to compare you to, nor can we put you into battles. The only other replicators we have here are workers and we’re not about to put you against someone that can just kill you in a split second.”
“Wow,” I coughed at his abruptness, “comforting.”