by Sara Kincaid
Neither of us blinked, each challenging the other. His arm moved slowly reaching for a weapon or for some hidden call button. My eyes swept the room, filled with travelers. People sat on benches, leaned against walls and sat on the floor. Everyone was going somewhere. If I caused a lot of damage and injured others, the Curare would be feared and hated. There were no doors visible for a swift exit except for the one behind me. We had walked too far for me to feasibly escape capture or worse. I shuffled my feet, inching back from the soldier slowly. The machine beeped and my heart skipped along with it, my breath coming fast. The soldier looked down again, breaking eye contact with me, and in that second, I turned to flee.
I gripped the shoulder pack strap tightly, pulling the bag taut against my back. I kept my eyes down, refusing to acknowledge Adem as I fled, hoping to save him from the fate I now feared. I nearly tripped over his feet when I turned, but he stood stock still in line, waiting his turn. “Stop!” the soldier’s voice reverberated around the hall. Conversation stopped and people turned to stare. Other soldiers appeared, their uniforms filling doorways and windows around the station. Their shadows darkened each way I turned.
Swallowing the sour taste of panic, I ran, my feet slapping loudly against the stone floor. I ducked between a pair of bewildered travelers, hoping to throw my pursuers off. They blazed through the crowded hallway, jumping over packages and luggage, dodging people and shoving hazards out of their way. Leading the pack was the man with the clear blue eyes.
As I fled, I dropped my awareness to the earth, hoping to find easy access to the energy that laid there, ripe for the taking. Recalling my experience in the City prison, I was afraid to use up my reserve energy.
I turned toward a set of stairs and stumbled as I reached the bottom. Shots from the air rifles ricocheted off the stone walls. I struggled to my feet and kept running. Without the use of the energy from the earth, my stamina quickly deteriorated and my breath caught in my throat. This is what it felt to be simply human. But still I ran and suppressed the poisonous thought that all my effort would be in vain.
“You are under arrest for carrying falsified papers!” the same soldier cried, his voice practically in my ear. His voice was strangled with effort as he followed in my wake.
Knowing that I was at a severe disadvantage, I ducked into a thick crowd, hoping to lose my pursuer. Cloaked by the large group of people, I slowed to a walk and swallowed my ragged breathing, my heart hammering against my chest. My legs wobbled with weariness and I fought the urge to steal from the people around me. “Stop that woman!” the soldier cried. His narrow face was contorted with anger, his lips set into a thin line. The crowd was sluggish or unaffected by his cry. I dodged a person sitting on the ground and felt the soldier’s hand close on my arm. Instinctively, I reacted, drawing his energy into me. In that instant of contact, I had stolen enough energy to begin the wasting process that I had so often lost control of as a child. He pulled his hand away with a yell and looked bewildered at the withered appendage. A shock of red hair fell over his ear. He blanched when he saw his hand, his blue eyes growing wide with fear.
It took him longer to figure out what had happened than I expected. I had already started running, but his next words dropped my heart to my knees. “Curare! Curare on the loose!” Immediately the travelers in the station began to panic. Many of them joined in, grabbing for me and tugging at my clothes and the pack on my shoulder. Running through the crowd reminded me of running through the bramble in South Farm, each branch reaching like seeking fingers and mauling my skin with their sharp talons. These were fellow humans, people who lived and breathed and loved just as I did. And yet, I was the enemy, an animal to be captured and ferreted away into slavery.
Somehow, I managed to make my way to the entrance of the station and convinced myself that if I could just get through the door, I would be safe. I broke through the crowd and felt my energy surge as I glimpsed the grimy City streets just beyond the windows. I hopped down a small set of stairs and the puff of an air rifle echoed around the room. I managed the first of the next set of stairs, but collapsed on the second as an unfamiliar pain bloomed in my calf. I grabbed the injured limb and a cry of rage and pain ripped from my throat. Blood surged between my fingers.
The soldier with the red hair approached, gun held at ready, puffing as he tried to regain his own breath. He glared down at me over the arch of this thin, pointed nose “Don’t move, Curare. I’ll shoot you again.”
“Do you really think guns have any lasting affect on me?” I growled through my pain.
He ignored my question and stepped closer still. “So you don’t deny it then? You are Curare?”
“What does it matter to you?” I could feel his energy intensify as he moved nearer. I licked my lips.
“It doesn’t.”
I grunted in reply and cringed as another wave of pain descended. I could feel the bullet, lodged somewhere in my calf. Blood leaked onto the floor, leaving a shock of red against the drab concrete. I tried to stand, strove to drag myself forward. The street was mere feet away from where I lay. “Don’t move, Curare! I will shoot you again,” he warned, disgust hardening his tone.
He was within arm’s length now and he grabbed the wound he had inflicted between his thumb and forefinger. The world tilted and flashes of light flickered behind my eyelids. I cried out in pain again as he dug his fingers into my injured flesh. “Whatever you did to me back there, I’m not going to let that happen again,” he grunted, his breath sour against my cheek.
My body was frozen in a paroxysm of pain. I tried to separate myself from it, to concentrate on the connection the soldier boldly created by touching me so that I could steal his life energy and heal my wound. Defeated, I lay my forehead on the cool stone floor, gasping as the soldier’s fingers dug further into my wounded flesh.
“No!” Adem’s big voice boomed across the entryway.
“Adem!” I cried. “Don’t! Get out of here!” I watched, frozen to the floor, my pain all but forgotten as he hurled himself at the soldier with another shout of rage, pouncing like a bear. Simultaneously, the sound of gunfire ricocheted around the room. I gasped, watching as Adem’s large body collided with the soldier, knocking him off of me and sending the air rifle spinning across the floor. I waited for Adem to swing his fists, to bellow once more, but no sound came and he didn’t move.
A sob caught in my throat. “Adem,” I cried, my voice cracking. I tried to drag myself to my feet, fighting the urge to collapse in grief. He can’t be dead. He can’t. I crawled across the floor and put a gentle hand on my friend’s lifeless form.
Soon other soldiers arrived holding their weapons at ready. The soldier pushed Adem’s body off of him and rose to his feet. I held Adem’s shirt tightly in my hands. When the soldier stood, he kicked cruely at my side. I yelped in pain and curled into a ball. But I wouldn’t let go. He then trained his weapon on me with his one good hand. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” he growled.
The other soldiers peered curiously at us from across the room. “What do you have there?” one soldier asked as he shouldered his air gun.
“Curare,” the red haired soldier responded, his voice filled with gloating.
“Oh Maric’s found himself a Curare,” another soldier, this one female, taunted. “Looking to move up are you? You ran faster after her than I’ve ever seen you move during drills,” she sniggered. Other soldiers tried to stifle their laughter.
“He found one, but killed another. I think he’ll stay right where he is,” another who had walked over quipped. He turned Adem’s arm over so the others could see his mark. Bitter laughter followed.
“She’s property of the CPA, you know,” another soldier with thick facial hair and a round nose chimed in. “If she’s really a Curare.”
Maric trembled. “If, Devon? Did you see what she did to my hand?” He held up his other hand to reveal his withe
red flesh.
The female soldier took Maric’s hand and examined the wound I had inflicted. “How would she have done that? Curare can’t use their abilities like that.”
“Maybe she’s not Curare,” the male soldier with the gruff voice replied.
“Uh oh. There goes Maric’s reward,” another soldier behind me called out.
As the soldiers traded barbs, I felt Maric’s hold on me weaken. I struggled against my captor and he pinched my wound until I went limp once again. “You know, Maric, Kade won’t be happy if you kill his Curare.” Devon reasoned.
“And you won’t get your reward if she dies before you get there. Might want to wrap up that wound,” the female soldier reasoned.
I sensed a moment of hesitation and finally Maric shouldered his gun. My first instinct was to fight, to take my revenge. But that wouldn’t get me to Kade and he was all that mattered now. Instead, I dipped into my own energy reserves and settled into my memory of the growth of the grass and used that to begin the healing process. The energy it took to heal such an injury surprised me and my limbs quaked with exhaustion. A hole about the size of my thumb still gaped in my calf, but the bleeding had slowed and I was able to reduce the pain significantly.
When Maric turned back to my leg, he jumped back with a start. “What just happened?” he cried.
“What is it?” Devon asked, clutching the gun in his hands.
“The wound’s healing!”
“Curare can’t heal. She can’t be Curare. Sorry, Maric. No promotion for you,” the female soldier joked. She appeared at ease, leaning her weight on one foot, her knee bent slightly.
“You could shoot her again and see if it happens again,” Devon suggested.
“What? What’s the matter with you, Devon? That’s horrible,” the female soldier cried. Her voice was muffled by the face guard on her helmet. “No one’s shooting anyone else. Besides, you know how angry Kade will be if you ruin one of his specimens.” They all paused as something silent passing between them. “She’s not going anywhere.” Then she turned to look at me and through the haze of exhaustion and pain, the light around her appeared to glow. “You’re not going anywhere, right?” Her green eyes pleaded with me. Her nut-brown hair lay flat across her forehead, cropped short just below her ears. I nodded slowly, mesmerized.
“There’s one way we could test her. Pop,” Maric continued.
The woman put her hands on her hips. “You’re not certified to administer the Pop test. What if she reacts violently like some of the subjects have? You could kill her.”
“You’re no fun, Rhina.”
Rhina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Round her up, Maric. She’s your prisoner.” Rhina pulled her air gun out of the holster at her hip and held it at ready, though pointing to the ground. The other three soldiers followed suit. Maric prodded me with his foot. “On your feet, Curare. We’re off to the CPA where you belong.”
At his urging, I struggled to my feet, fearful of further pain he might inflict on me. When I took a step and placed my weight on the injured leg, it gave out beneath me and I fell in a huffing tangle of limbs. “Not so healed after all, are you?” he taunted.
Recalling the blatant mistreatment of the Curare I’d seen in the past, I didn’t expect any help. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to my feet once more. The pain in my calf rocketed up to my brain and my head swam. Slowly, I took a determined step, and then another. My progress remained slow and I felt Maric’s air gun at my back. I focused on where my feet fell, my head turned to the ground. Drying blood stuck to my ribbons and caked my feet. Briefly, I wondered if footprints etched in blood were left behind.
In spite of my predicament, the irony of this possibility caught in the back of my throat in a rough laugh that I masked by coughing.
I limped behind the stream of CPA soldiers and followed them out into the street. Maric remained at my back, ever eager to prod me with the gun. We exited through the main entrance. Warmth of the outdoors warmed me and I reached out tentatively, grasping onto the small tendrils of energy that poked up through the cracks in the sidewalk. The grime of the City, the soot, the smog that clogged the sky invaded my nostrils and filled me with the sticky residue of defeat.
Rhina opened the back of their transport vehicle and ushered me inside. With one hand under my arm, she guided me onto the floor. We shared a look before she closed the door and the City disappeared from view. She nodded once, her eyes filled with remorse.
Inside the transport vehicle, it was pitch black. My hands shook with fear and panic filled me with its poison. I reached out hesitantly into the void, hoping to sense another Curare or even just the gentle pulse of the earth. All I felt when I stretched my senses outward was an oppressive darkness and the terrifying sound of silence.
Bram,
Curare. They call you Curare. It’s a peculiar word that twirls on my tongue when I speak it aloud. After your death, the GFL began searching for more people like you–and they have started to find them. Mostly people on the farms, each of them with power over a different element and each element accounted for in turn. Earth, air, fire and water. Terrae, Venti, Igni, Aquae. This is what they call you. The GFL has your journals. I don’t know what will happen next.
Zane and I have been in hiding for many weeks. I still fear for our safety. I finally escaped the City. We traveled through No Man’s Land to the farms. Bram, I finally got to see West Farm, your home. I stood barefoot on the land belonging to your ancestors and now I am learning to understand the unique needs of the earth. I can see this place through your eyes, I can see the beauty and also the destruction that our ancestors wrought in their dismissal of the earth.
My belly is large now and your mother helps care for me. They insist that I rest, but I feel compelled to repay them for their kindness. I sit on my knees, my back hunched as I dig in the dirt, filling the spaces beneath my nails and the lines of my skin with the earth as I imagine you did as a child.
Your parents have been questioned by the GFL. But the City has no jurisdiction in the farms and thus has no authority here. Your family is safe. Still, my presence is kept secret and it is in this secrecy that I nest and our baby grows.
Aster
Chapter 12
In the belly of the transport, I lost all sense of time and space. Initially, we made frequent starts and stops and then after a prolonged stop, moved continuously. Without a window, I had no way to know which direction we were going. I imagined us to be somewhere over No Man’s Land, in that dead trench between the farms and the City. I knew that the soldiers were taking me to the CPA facility.
I blinked owlishly, unable to register my own hand in front of my face, and breathed the damp, warm air. The back of the transport was quiet. I pressed my ear against the smooth metal wall, hoping to hear my captors, but was greeted only by the metallic rumbling of the engine as it echoed through the hull. Escape with my abilities was feasible. But out in No Man’s Land, there would be nowhere to hide and my wound would hinder my getaway. Besides, I reasoned with myself, the only way this ordeal would end was if Kade and the CPA were destroyed. As much as I hated to admit it, I was on the right path.
Uncertainty danced in my veins and fluttered my heartbeat. With Adem and Leo both gone, I was truly alone. I bowed my head, remembering them, and swallowed a strangled sob. Fear would not rule my body or my mind as it had ruled my existence in South Farm. Gone was the frightened child I had been, the person who hid in the fields, quaking in my loneliness, learning to be at home in endless night. Or so I tried to convince myself. My only hope left was that Kerria would come through with the Undergrounds.
The gentle hum of the transport filled my head and lulled me into a dreamless sleep. When I awoke, I was curled in the corner of the transport. I shifted my limbs, now numb and tingling painfully. The wound in my calf remained partially healed, though it would require the atte
ntion of a doctor if I did not take further action. I couldn’t squander the energy in my system to do this, though, because there was no telling when I would have the opportunity to restore my reserves. Instead, I unwrapped the ribbons from around my feet and tied them together before wrapping them around as much of the wound as possible. I sighed into the dark, the tight hold of the binding bringing me some relief.
When the doors opened, a harsh light breached my dark cocoon, blinding me. I covered my eyes until the pain subsided and my eyes adjusted. Three soldiers stood with a bright light shining behind them. I recognized two of the soldiers, Maric and Rhina, from my capture at the transport facility. Maric’s hand was wrapped in thick bandages and I turned my nose up defiantly. “Don’t touch that one, Captain Bertin,” Maric advised their new companion. “There’s something strange about her. She’ll get you.”
“That a fact?” the burly man with a double chin and a thick brow bone chewed the inside of his cheek. My eyes trailed down his uniform, noting the patches on the shoulders and chest. I shifted uncomfortably in the hull of the transport and the jumpy soldiers gripped their weapons tighter. “Have you checked her arm? What sort is she?”
Taking his cue from the superior officer, Maric drew his weapon. “Okay, Curare. Show us your arms. What mark do you bear?”
I looked up, regarding him through my dark lashes, my green eyes blazing. If I wanted, I could destroy him. I reigned in my wild anger, crossing my arms tightly over my chest and burying my hands against my body. “Nothing,” came my curt reply.
“No marks?” Bertin narrowed his eyes at Maric. “Are you sure she’s Curare? She’s too old to not have been identified. She had to have escaped from the facility. I don’t have time for this, you know.” He sighed and leaned back on his heels, relaxing.
“I’m not wasting your time, sir. She did this to me just by me touching her skin!” He held out his bandaged hand for emphasis. “Tell him, Rhina. You were there.”