by Wendi Wilson
“As heartwarming as this reunion is, we have important work to do,” he said, rubbing his palms together.
I looked around, taking in my surroundings for the first time. The living room we were standing in was small and cozy, furnished with plush couches and a dark-wood coffee table. It would have seemed downright comfortable, if not for the watchdogs guarding the front door.
Two people, a man and a woman, stood on either side of the exit, their legs slightly spread and hands clasped behind their backs. Dressed in black, they each had a pistol holstered at their side and large knives strapped to their calves.
The stress must’ve been getting to me because I almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of their appearance. Cliché much? I thought. It’s like they shopped at a secondhand store for used movie costumes.
Mom’s hand wrapped around my bicep, pulling me from my thoughts while tugging me toward her. “She’s only a child,” she said. “Please, just let us go.”
Dr. Patton chuckled. “She’s old enough to make her own decisions. She decided to persuade you and take off on her own. She decided to stay with those Alts, choosing to live a life of sin instead of following my instructions and guidance. She decided,” he said, his voice deepening, “to use her unnatural power to nearly kill me.” The wrinkles of anger in his face softened as a smile formed on his lips. “And now, she’s decided to help me save the world.”
“Save the world?” I spat. “That’s what you’ve convinced yourself you’re doing?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Of course, it is. You are insane.”
“The masses assumed Jesus was insane when he claimed to be the son of God. He was persecuted, hung on a cross, killed by the very people he was trying to save.”
“Are you seriously comparing yourself to Jesus?” I snapped. My mom’s hand snaked out and latched onto my wrist, stopping me from mocking him further.
“Of course not,” he huffed. “I cannot claim to be the actual son of God, but I do consider myself one of his loyal disciples. I shall spread his word to the people of this once-great country. Together, my dear Savanna, you and I shall rid it of the vermin, making it great once again.”
“What are you planning to make her do?” my mom asked, the fear evident in her voice.
“Tonight,” he said, his smile sending a chill down my spine, “we shall attend a very important party.”
“What kind of party?” I asked.
“One political in nature. That is all you need to know, for now. Angela, Roman, please show your daughter to your room and help her pick one of the dresses hung in the closet. I have some calls to make.” He looked at me, his eyes gleaming. “I shall collect you at six-thirty. Be ready.”
The threat was clear. If I decided to balk or refused to cooperate, there would be consequences. I nodded and let my mom steer me toward the back of the one-story house. As long as he had my parents, I would do as he wanted.
Once they were free, though, all bets were off.
Mom pulled me into a spacious bedroom and Dad closed the door behind us. They both hugged me again before releasing me and taking a step back. I sank onto the bed, reading the anger and disappointment on their faces.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I said, my voice resigned. “I’m so sorry. I should have come to you instead of using persuasion to keep you out of it. I thought if I left, it would keep you safe.”
“It’s our job to protect you, Savanna,” my dad replied. “Not the other way around.”
“I know,” I mumbled, feeling stupid and ashamed. I looked up at my mom. “You tried to make me leave them.”
“And you ended up leaving them on your own,” she observed, her voice gentle despite the anger I knew she harbored toward me for my disobedience and erratic decision making. “How did you convince them not to follow you?”
I looked down, shame causing a blush to burn across my face.
“Oh, Savanna. You didn’t,” my mom said.
I looked up at her. “I had to. I had to keep them safe. Dr. Patton would kill them.” I looked from her to Dad and back again, my eyes begging them to understand. “I couldn’t bear it if something bad happened to them because of me.”
“I’d wager they think you’re worth the risk,” Dad stated.
I sniffed. “They’re here.”
“What?” Mom said.
“Not here, in this house,” I clarified, “but they’re in D.C. I saw them, Mom. They were running toward me before Dr. Patton shoved me into the car. Somehow, they broke my persuasion and came for me.”
“Do you think they will find us?” she asked. “I know they’re determined, but three boys don’t stand a chance against Earl and his unpersuadable minions.”
“They’re not alone,” I said. “Silas and Slade Madsen, the Alt brothers we were staying with, are with them. And Lizzie Williams.”
“Lizzie Williams?” Dad exclaimed. “Isn’t she with the Purists?”
I shook my head. “No, not anymore. She actually drove to Connecticut to warn me that she heard her parents mention your names.”
They were silent for a moment before my mom shook herself. “Well, despite everything you’ve done, we ended up exactly where I feared we would.” She waved a hand through the air, encompassing the whole room. “This is what I was trying to avoid when I suggested we run away.”
I flinched, feeling the sting of accusation in her words. My guilt quickly turned to anger and I stood, pulling myself up to my full height, which put me at about four inches taller than her.
“Well, if you hadn’t tried to make me leave, I never would have persuaded you to stop worrying about me and we’d all still be together, protecting each other. Dr. Patton never would have been able to take you if the boys and I were there.”
I crossed my arms and tucked my chin against my chest so I could stare down my nose at her. I knew it was childish, but I had always felt at a disadvantage when I argued with her. My height was one of the few things I had going for me.
“Oh, don’t be naïve, Savanna,” she snapped back, her own anger rising to challenge mine. “He won’t let anything keep him from his ultimate goal. Not us. Not you. Not his nephews. No one.”
My blood felt like fire in my veins, whether from anger or remorse, I wasn’t sure. Anger was easier to deal with, so I opened my mouth to spew out more accusations.
“Okay, enough,” Dad said, his voice harsh enough to shock us out of our argument. “These what ifs and suppositions aren’t helping us. What happened, happened. We all made choices that contributed to the situation we find ourselves in. What’s important is that we’re together now.”
I looked at Mom, my expression sheepish, and she shot me a small smile. Dad was right. The blame game did nothing to alleviate our situation. I mumbled out an apology and she did the same.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“For now, we play along,” Mom said. “If we give him our full cooperation, maybe he’ll let his guard drop just enough for us to find an opening to escape. There are two people guarding the front and back exits all the time. Maybe they’ll get lax and we can get past them.”
“And what then?” I asked. “Even if we do manage to pull off an escape, he’ll just come for us again.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she vowed.
“Your mother is right,” Dad said. “We need to get out of here first. We can worry about the rest later.”
I wandered over to the closet and slid the wooden doors open. I slid one dress after another across the rack, my eyes wide. There were five fancy cocktail dresses in various colors. Pulling out a little black number covered in sequins, I flipped over the price tag still attached to it.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “This dress cost two thousand dollars.”
I looked at my mom and dad, my expression incredulous, before hanging it back on the rack and pulling out a purple dress with a flowy skirt. That one was less expensive, but still outrageous at thirteen hu
ndred dollars.
“He can’t really expect me to wear a dress this expensive,” I declared, hanging it back up without looking at the rest. “Where on Earth is he planning to take me?”
“Well, we are in D.C.,” Dad replied, pacing across the floor and back. “And Earl said it was political. Maybe it’s some swanky elitist party? There’s probably some pretty influential Purists in the capital.”
“I don’t know, Roman,” my mom said. “It’s awfully hard for people in the spotlight to keep secrets these days, with the press and social media. I think we’d know if any legislators were Purists pushing an anti-Alt agenda.”
“Unless they are keeping it under wraps on purpose,” he argued. “What if the Purists have been strategically placing Purists in high positions in the government for years, waiting for the perfect time to out themselves and strike against the Alt community?”
“If that were the case, what would he need with Savanna? He’d have any number of cultists to help him push his agenda.”
Dad’s face fell, my mom’s logic slicing a hole in his conspiracy theory.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said before shrugging. “I’ve got nothing else.”
Sensing my agitation, Mom changed the subject after that. She asked me about my time in Greenwich, and I told her about the Madsen twins and the fun things we did there. She was relieved to hear that Mr. and Mrs. Madsen had been so accepting and nurturing toward me, stepping in as surrogate parents while I was there.
Time moved forward as it always does, and soon it was time for me to start getting ready. There was an en suite bathroom, so I took a quick shower and washed my hair. Mom helped me blow dry it to perfection before I brushed on some face powder and a swipe of mascara. Then, I put on the purple dress. I didn’t bother checking out the rest of my choices. The purple one fit and that’s all that mattered.
I slipped on a pair of silver, flat ballet slippers I found in the closet and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked really good, fancier than I ever had, but I couldn’t drum up an ounce of excitement. The unknown was too overwhelming.
A sharp knock on the door startled me. Dad walked forward and swung it open. Dr. Patton stood in the opening, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo and shoes so shiny I was sure I’d be able to see my reflection in them.
I shivered at his appraising look, his eyes traveling down my body and back up again before he nodded in approval. His eyes sparked with excitement, but I could tell it wasn’t attraction or anything too disgusting to consider. I was fairly certain I never had to worry about any sexual advances from him. I was less than half his age. And an Alt.
No, it wasn’t an appreciation of my assets that lit a fire in him. It was anticipation.
Whatever he had planned, he couldn’t wait to get started.
Chapter Twelve
“Where are we going?”
The black limousine turned the corner and headed north, toward the city. We sat in the back, a black-clad driver ignoring us as he navigated the streets. I assumed that since we were on our way, Dr. Patton would finally tell me where we were headed and what the plan was. I needed to have some kind of preparation. I wouldn’t be able to execute his directives if he didn’t give them to me.
I was right.
He sat up straighter, his eyes alight with excitement as he spoke. “We, my dear, are attending a party hosted by our commander-in-chief.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “The president?”
He chuckled, positively giddy. “The one and only. It’s a gala, really. A chance for him to thank the campaign contributors who donated the most funds. Our little church donated millions, under a shell corporation, of course. He couldn’t accept money outright from a group some people see as… extremist.”
Last year had been an election year and President Worth was sworn in as our new leader a few months ago. He was the country’s youngest president ever, only thirty-seven years old at his inauguration. Meeting him would be quite the honor. If only the circumstances were different.
“So, what is it you need me to do at this party?”
“I chose him,” he said, his lips turning down, “because he’s young and I assumed he’d be more susceptible to my powers of persuasion.” He laughed at his own pun, but the sound was ugly. “As it turns out, he is smarter than I imagined. He surrounded himself with Alts.”
“What?” The word exploded from my mouth with shock.
He nodded, his expression solemn. “The secret service agents tasked with protecting him, his personal assistants, hell, even the wait-staff are all filled with Alts devoted to him. He uses them to influence his political rivals, foreign leaders, even his own cabinet. It’s disgraceful.”
“But… how does he get away with it? Don’t these people know they’re being persuaded?”
He shook his head. “They can persuade without speaking, if need be. They wear colored contacts to hide the silver in their eyes. No one knows.”
“How do you know?”
His smile returned. “I told you, Savanna. Purists are everywhere. They see things. Hear things. And they all report to me.”
That last statement threw me a little. I knew he was the leader of the Savanna Purist community, but he was making it sound like he was at the top of the entire church. It was mind-boggling to consider, so I tucked it away to think about later. He still hadn’t explained my part in his plan.
“What do I have to do?”
“I need you, and your ability to persuade other Alts, to get close to him at this party. He’ll thank me for my contribution publicly, posing for the cameras while shaking my hand, but I need more private access. I need to get him alone, with no one else around, so you, my dear, can… recommend some changes to his policy.”
“What kind of changes?” I asked despite my fear of his answer.
“We’ll get to that when the time comes,” he said, ending the conversation. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.” He handed me a plastic case with rounded containers on each end. “I need you to put in these contact lenses before we arrive. Can’t have everyone knowing my escort is an Alt.”
“I don’t know how to put in contacts!” I exclaimed.
“You better figure it out quickly,” he said, his malevolent smile firmly back in place. “You have about five minutes.”
He reached over to the panel beside me and flipped up a plastic cover to reveal a mirror. When I didn’t move, he motioned for me to get started before tapping the face of his watch. He turned then, ignoring me as he stared out his own window.
I unscrewed one of the lids on the container, seeing a rounded lens floating in some kind of liquid. There was a blue circle around the middle, very close to the color of my own eyes. At least, the color they were before the signature Alt-silver formed around the outside.
Remembering how I’d seen people do it in the movies, I situated the lens on the fingertip of my pointer finger of my right hand. Using my left hand, I pushed my eyelids apart, exposing more of my eyeball. Sucking in a deep breath, I brought the lens closer and attempted to rub it against my eye.
I didn’t even get close. Despite my attempt to keep my eyelids apart, they blinked rapidly as the lens brushed against my eyelashes.
I tried again, prying my eyelids as far open ad they would go. The cool air inside the car quickly dried out my eye, but I pushed ahead and rubbed the contact against it. It felt strange and annoying and I blinked a few times. The lens popped out onto my cheek.
I pinched it and repositioned it on my finger before using my other hand to rub at my irritated eye. Putting in contacts sucked. I was glad I didn’t have to do it every day.
Third time’s the charm, I thought, as I tried once more.
The contact settled against my eyeball and I blinked rapidly. It stayed put and I stared into the mirror. My left eye was completely blue, no silver in sight. The white part was streaked with red, a sign of my many attempts to get the damn thing in.
I o
pened the other side of the container and fished out the second lens. That one only took two tries and, as we pulled into a long, circular drive, Dr. Patton nodded with approval.
Stopping the car, our driver hopped out and jogged around to open my door. As I climbed out, a series of flashes blinded me. I instinctively held up a hand to block the lights before someone grabbed my wrist and yanked it down. My eyes zeroed in on the sausage-like fingers attached to me before following the arm up and meeting Dr. Patton’s eyes.
“Smile for the cameras, dear,” he hissed from the corner of his mouth.
I tried my best to fake it, but I was sure my smile looked more like a pained grimace as I discreetly attempted to pull free of his iron grip. He seemed to realize I wasn’t above making a scene, as he let go to wave at the reporters shouting questions and snapping pictures.
My eyes traveled over the façade of the building. I half expected to pull up to the front of the White House, so I was surprised to see the entrance of a swanky hotel instead. A red carpet led the way toward revolving doors and I could barely make out the glitter of sequins and rhinestones through the glass.
As we walked slowly toward the entrance, Dr. Patton stopping every few steps to pose for a photograph or quip out an answer to a shouted question, I let my eyes wander past the crush of reporters and camera operators. That’s when I saw them.
Teenagers. Kids that looked to be my age, give or take a couple of years. And they were everywhere. Dressed in black suits, guarding the entrance. Standing at the back of the crowd of reporters, holding recording devices and sporting press passes, yet their focus seemed to be on the other reporters, not the arriving guests. Even the couple dressed to the nines walking behind us seemed young and out of place, certainly too young to have been major campaign contributors. They didn’t even look old enough to vote.
“You will have fun tonight,” the girl said as they neared us, catching my eye. “You won’t ask any questions, and if anyone asks, the president is an amazing man who can do no wrong.”