Oculus (Oculus #1)

by J. L. Mac

  My once useless eyes burn and tingle and they feel really dry, but I take my time eyeing the man in front of me and what a man he is.

  Sic jumps to his feet and firmly cups my face in his big hands. I wrap my fingers around both his wrists as he studies me with concern etched across his face. His brows furrow. His eyes intense. His jaw tight. Lips press into a thin line.

  “Does it hurt? Does anything hurt?” he asks in a hurry and moves his fingers to press against the artery in my neck. His thumbs pull gently against my lower eyelids and I watch as his piercing eyes evaluate me. “Would you say something? You have to answer me. You’re pale. Sit,” he demands as he all but forces me to the edge of my bed.

  “Sic, I can see,” I repeat, still waging war with rage and confusion and elation.

  “Yes you’ve said that, but, Iris, are you hurt?” He asks me coaxingly like I’m simple minded and it snaps me out of my daze long enough to send a glare in his direction.

  “You’re okay,” he announces while swallowing down the smirk that I swear I saw. I saw!

  “Why did he hide this from me?”

  “He had to have had very good reason.” Sic looks me over then steps back and begins pacing the floor. He’s better than my dreams. He’s more handsome than I could have ever dreamed and he’s mine.

  “Sic,” I whisper, causing him to halt in his tracks and face me. I bring myself to stand in front of him and I make my dreams come true.

  His scar against my palm. His body inches from mine. The air between us is electric. Sic slips his arms around my waist and pulls me forward, closing the gap between us.

  “Sure?” he asks with his brows slightly raised. I appreciate his thoughtfulness following everything I’ve been through and my close encounter with Ingram and the atrocities he was very close to forcing upon me, but Ingram is exactly why I want Sic right now. I need him to mark me, to claim me as his, to fill the space from the last bad thing that happened to me and the next good thing that will happen. I want him to transport me from one point to another where hopefully all memories of what nearly happened will be dulled by the steady strong Dark Lander that is somehow my destiny.

  My mouth covers his and I allow my lips to offer up the best answer I can. Sic groans as he answers my call with as much passion or more than I’ve experienced from him yet. My lips part for him. Without hesitation he indulges in me and I in him. His tongue slips past mine luxuriously slow. Our breath mingles. My body is lit up with need. His hands move up my back to cradle my face. Without preamble Sic hoists me up, prompting me to wrap my legs around his hips.

  In my dreams of him, he’s always been agile and quick and right now in this moment I’m glad he’s still agile, but it seems that he can turn his tendency to work quickly off, because he takes his time roaming my body with his lips, his tongue, his fingertips…

  I watch with amazement as he puts on a visual show that brings all my senses to attention. His crystal gaze watches me closely. He’s doing this on purpose. He wants me to see him. It’s difficult not to gasp when he slips his pants down his muscular legs, allowing me to revel at the image of him.

  His cheeks change color and it’s the very first time I behold what someone blushing must look like.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer, feeling like I’ve made him uncomfortable with my ogling, my studying.

  “Don’t be,” he whispers as he plants one knee on my bed and undresses me. I find my eyes studying both of our bodies in amazement. With my heart hammering out of control in my chest, I find the courage to expose myself to him. With my knees parted and my body bared to him, he settles himself between my trembling thighs.

  “Watch,” he commands and I don’t think I could disobey even if I wanted to. I watch closely as he nestles the rigid length of himself at my center. My body submits to his as he eases himself into me. Sic grips one of my thighs in his hand, forcing my leg higher on his waist as he braces his weight on his other hand pressed into the mattress. I hold on tightly as he drives deep, propelling both of us toward bliss.

  “Sic,”

  “Hmm?” he muffles against my chest half asleep. My fingers sift lazily through his hair. He likes this. I like it too. It’s so contradictory to who he is; what I know he’s capable of for him to be relaxed and lulled to sleep by me running my fingers through his hair. I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t make me feel like a very powerful female at this moment. The idea that with his cheek pressed to my bare chest and my fingers laced in his hair, a man like him is pliable and subdued because of me. Me.

  “I need to go see my dad.”

  “Mm,” he breathes and somehow his weight on top of me feels a bit heavier as if he would much rather I stay put.

  “I have to see how he’s doing. I want to look at him. I want to see Hattie too. I want to see everything,” I mumble, looking around my dimly lit bedroom, still marveling at the fact that I can see and furious that I have gone all this time thinking that there was no help for my impairment. “I can see,” I whisper aloud still in disbelief.

  “You used to see. Don’t you remember?”

  “Sic, I was born blind. My dad—”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I—” Unsure of what to say to that, I let out a breath of resignation.

  “Listen to me. I don’t know why and I don’t know how but I remember you. I remember them bringing you to visit me. I remember you carrying a book with you. I remember your dad. I don’t know why you can’t remember but I do.”

  “It’s not possible.”

  “Trust me when I say that anything is possible. You don’t know what these Corps are capable of.”

  “What happened?”

  “With what?”

  “Everything.” Sic sighs and sits up, bracing his weight on one elbow. Looking me in the eyes, I’m taken aback by the sense that my life is about to get a lot more complicated.

  “I spent most of my time at Talpa looking forward to seeing you,” Sic traced a finger along the skin of my arm, raising goosebumps on my skin and sending shivers of pleasure racing across the surface. “Do you have any idea what it’s like out there?”

  “Rumors mostly.”

  “It’s savage like they say but not because people outside these compounds are reckless criminals who enjoy murdering and raping and maiming. They resist and that’s what makes them Dark Landers. That’s what makes them an inconvenient lot to The Corps. They want the liberties and freedoms from the old world. They want rights to make their own way and as long as The Corps keep a stronghold on resources there will always be fighting. They control everything and it has to stop.”

  “What do you mean they control everything?”

  “Just that. Food, medicine, technology, electricity. All of it. Unless you are willing to sell your life to one of The Corps and reside within a walled lab cage, you are exiled to the Dark Lands where The Corps spend excessive time and effort to make it as inhospitable as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? When the flare happened, they were prepared. They had contingency plans and that made them the most powerful entities on the planet, particularly because they have an endless amount of slaves working under this rouse that they are the lucky ones.”

  “We are fortunate,” I offer feebly.

  “No. You aren’t. None of The Corp employees are fortunate. You are all slaves and you don’t even know it. It’s impressive really.”

  “What would happen if The Corps went under. What if people fought back against them?”

  “I really don’t know. But what I do know is that spreading disease to which the only antidote is dispensed by The Corp is wrong. And there’s no excuse for children in the Dark Lands dying because they get sick and no one can get them medical help. There’s no excuse for things being the way they are.”

  “You fight back?”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “I was designed to fight. So were you.”

&nbs
p; “What do you mean?”

  “Talpa Corp made both of us. I am a weapon—a physical weapon. You, well, I don’t know what they meant for you to do, but I think your dad would know.”

  “Sic, I’m no weapon. I’m a woman!”

  “So was Joan of Arc and Cleopatra.”

  “Who?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it when we leave the compound. But for now, you need to go get more information from your dad.”

  “We can’t leave.”

  “Well we can’t stay.”

  Muscle memory is a powerful thing. Though I can see, something that still baffles me, my hands reach out and drift across surfaces like I’ve always done. My stick is still tethered by a strap to my wrist. I still turn my head at the sound of things to better hone in on the direction from which the sound is coming from. A bird behind me, a railcar approaching from the right. Someone walking away with a purposeful pace. Someone shuffling toward me in no hurry…

  My nose still sniffs the air to get a feel for the weather. Rain in the air or no rain. Colder weather coming or oppressing heat and humidity from summer to make a short lived comeback. How heavy railcar traffic is based on how much vibration courses up through my feet when I’m close to the tracks.

  I’ve never worn the glasses much. They aren’t designed to help me but to make people around me more comfortable. It’s not that my eyes are disfigured in any way. The problem is quite the contrary. Most people who aren’t paying attention don’t realize that I am—or was—blind. If someone is unaware of the fact that I was visually impaired and I stare at them completely on accident it tends to make others uncomfortable. That was the explanation my father gave me all those years ago when he had paid a wallop of time for the plastic frames that rest across the bridge of my nose.

  Today is Procurement Day and employees are out in droves to collect their monthly rations. Sic made it a good point about “playing the part” before I left our house. Bounding out of the front door shouting from the rooftops that a miracle had occurred, unwanted attention would descend on me and my dad and subsequently, Sic in no time.

  He’s absolutely right about me playing the part. At least for now. It’s difficult though to not look around in awe. Flowers, metal, colors. I find myself reeling trying to guess which colors match which thing. The sky is blue. I know that. I lift my gaze just enough to avert my eyes skyward.

  “Blue,” I mumble to myself. I’m forced to remind myself not to allow my attention to wonder as I wait for a railcar. Hattie’s scent wafts my direction and before I can practice more discipline, I turn towards her as she closes the gap between us.

  “Hattie,” I croak, feeling overwhelmed by emotion.

  “That nose of yours is really creepy. I think it will always weird me out how you sniff around to identify people.”

  “Sorry,” I laugh, trying to reign in my emotion.

  “One day I’m going to wear my mom’s perfume just to mess with your head.”

  “Somehow I think I’d still know it’s you.” I can’t help the grin that takes over and I release Hattie to get my first look at the girl next door who had been my constant companion for so long. She’s a little smaller than me. Her hair is like Sic’s, but lighter. Her eyes look like the sky. Blue. I study her face as she eyes me from head to toe, wincing at the colorful blotches. I never would have imagined that bruises would look like they do.

  “What are you doing here? Where’s your car?”

  “Oh, my dad is having it serviced. Something about the computer being out of date.”

  “Ouch,” I whisper, knowing that Fenra is likely going to charge Mr. Brighton a hefty amount of time just for doing the mandatory maintenance on Hattie’s personal railcar. I shove away thoughts of Sic and our earlier conversation about how The Corps use and abuse its “employees,” seemingly eager to capitalize by creating mandates that only force employees to spend more time than they will ever manage to actually pay back. The stranglehold is undeniable.

  “I heard that you and your dad were involved in a misunderstanding at Security. That’s what my mom said anyway. How is he?” I can’t help but take notice of the chill and distance in Hattie’s voice. She’s never been this way with me.

  “A misunderstanding?”

  “Rumor is that you and your dad were there giving a statement and you were attacked by some Dark Lander that they have in custody.”

  “Wha—no—that’s not what happened at all. They came and took me and dad—” Hattie links her arm with mine, interrupting me as she pulls me aside like she’s done so many times.

  “I don’t want to know, okay?” Hattie whispers.

  “What? Why?”

  “My mom and dad, they just, they don’t want to be involved in anything and neither do I. People are talking, you know.” I watch from behind the dark lenses of my glasses as Hattie’s eyes dart from side to side, scanning the growing crowd waiting for Fenra transportation.

  “I understand. But Hattie, I haven’t done anything. You know that right?” Even as I say the words, I feel like a fraud because I have done things. Multiple things that are illegal. I’m harboring a fugitive in my home at this very moment. I fought with three separate security agents. I have contraband in my possession thanks to my father’s hidden box of treasures.

  I try to keep any physical reaction at bay as I watch Hattie’s lip curl with what I assume is disgust. She rolls her blue eyes skyward and shakes her head so subtly that I can’t hear her hair brushing against her neck and shoulders. I wonder how many times my “best friend” has reacted to me this way. How often have I incited this display of exasperation in her? How many times has she responded to my presence this way, capitalizing on the fact that I can’t—couldn’t see her? Well, now I can and I’ve seen quite enough.

  “You’re right, Hattie. Best if you don’t get involved with the likes of me or the rumors pertaining to whatever I’ve been dealing with,” I turn away from Hattie just as the vibration of an approaching railcar begins tingling upward through the soles of my feet. Metal against metal screeches as the crowd pushes forward, ready to hop onto the large railcar that was meant to carry upwards of a dozen employees at a time, all standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “Iris,” Hattie snaps reaching for the arm that I just unfolded from hers.

  “Oh and one more thing,” I say half-turning back to face her. “You shouldn’t shake your head and roll your eyes like that. I bet it’s unbecoming. Then again, maybe you should. That way when someone asks you about all the rumors and your affiliation with the crazy blind girl who has been in trouble lately, you can rely on public displays like this to keep you safe.” I barely register the sound of her gasp over the scanner droning on as the doors to the railcar slide open and passengers fill the cramped space.

  The compound is bustling with people going to and from Procurement Day with food and supplies rations. It’s difficult to not stare at all of them. Tall, short, round, thin, skin like mine, darker and lighter shades of skin, long hair and short hair in every color and style. Dirt. Concrete. Paint. Lights. Clouds above me.

  I recall well, sitting in my father’s lap as a little girl, crying after a group of kids made fun of me because I couldn’t play the cloud game. I had no concept of what a cloud was or what it looked like. I couldn’t quite understand its purpose or the scale, the sheer magnitude of the sky in general. They’d pick out clouds and shout out descriptions to each other.

  “Dog with its tongue out!” the kid had shouted.

  “There!” answered back a handful of other kids.

  “Railcar!” another kid went on.

  “There!” they all shouted again.

  I sat in his lap, frustrated that they made fun of me when I asked to play, and I rolled his pendant between the pads of my fingers, back and forth. That was my safe spot, my security blanket. When reality was crushing and small minds made my already small world even smaller, I had my dad’s reassuring voice in my ear, his necklace in my fi
ngertips and his enduring vision for my future to see me through.

  I just can’t imagine what reason he could possibly have for allowing me to remain blind when he knew he had that device in his closet. Didn’t he know what it was for? Did he think it was too dangerous to try? Did he care at all?

  The subtle scent of sterilized surroundings snaps me out of the typhoon of thoughts threatening to overtake me. With this scent in my nostrils, I remember exactly why I’m at The Corp’s hospital. My dad was beaten, banged up as he had said, when Ingram had taken me from our home.

  It occurs to me that I’m about to see my father for the very first time and I should be elated, overjoyed, but I’m scared. Scared of what I’ll see, scared of what he may tell me about my past, scared that I’ll say things in anger that I won’t be able to take back.

  I’m careful to allow my hands and stick to guide me as I normally would. It helps to close my eyes but I find myself reluctant to shut off my vision of my new world, afraid that when I open them they will be useless once again.

  My father’s nurse spots me and makes her way right for me. I halt when she clears her throat, announcing her presence as if I could miss the squeaking of her shoes.

  “Ms. Tierney, I’m glad to see you back but I’m afraid you’ll have to be quick. Doctor Tierney really needs to rest. With his chronic high blood pressure being out of control right now, it’s best if he not get too worked up or excited. Sleep is best for him at this point.”

  “Blood pressure?”

  “Yes. Doctor Tierney has had hypertension for quite some time. Often times traumatic injury or illness can wreak havoc on blood pressure so we are keeping an eye on him. He’s been given medication to help.”

  “Okay. Half an hour?” I ask, raising one eyebrow hopefully.

  “Yes. That would be fine,” she nods, though I’m not supposed to see it.

  “Thank you.” I say as I make my way into his room through the open door. I had no idea that he’s had any health problems and thinking back to all the stress and arguing I’ve put him through makes me feel an inch tall. Why wouldn’t he tell me?