Violet Path

by Olivia Lodise

  “So you can kill him yourself. It’ll be the perfect test to see if the program works. Trust me, this isn’t what I had planned.”

  “Why rewire me? You’ve trained me, conditioned me. I’m barely human already!”

  “I need your complete submission, total trust and loyalty, which come from control. You were supposed to understand that and be on my side with the upper hand, but don’t worry, I’ll get you there anyway. You’ll still think for yourself, only how I want you to act and what I want you to do.” He was insane, a psychopath, inhumane.

  “Sir, we have a problem,” the intercom resonated around us. “They have taken a third of the ground, neutralized almost thirty percent of your men. Some are roaming the buildings, and I have lost video connection now. What are your orders, sir?” The voice was robotic, monotone, analytical.

  “It’s only thirty percent. They can’t do much more. Keep your positions,” Matthew said confidently.

  “Sir, we may have killed some of their men, but not even a fifth, and we are outnumbering them. They haven’t actually killed any of your men, but we have lost communication with them, and they are not responding to their usual programs. Sir, I think you need to call more men out.” The intercom was getting itself into more trouble. Matthew wasn’t the type to take orders.

  “Call everyone! Annihilate them! Not one left, and no more survivors!” Matthew screamed. “What do they want?” He looked at me, his voice trembling with frustration.

  “Your head,” I told him blankly.

  Matthew turned and glared at me as everyone else cleared the room to fight outside. I had gained a few more hours of humanity. He slapped me across my face, scratching my eyebrow with his golden wedding ring.

  “I’ll be back,” he announced and left quickly.

  I was finally alone for the first time in over a year. I needed a way to free myself. I remembered my dagger in my boot from Sam, but had no access to it. I thought of squirming through the cuffs, shooting them, biting them, but everything was unrealistic and plain stupid. By the time I realized I was truly imprisoned, Matthew had returned.

  He was furious, blinded by rage. He freed my right hand followed by my left. Relief ran through me. This was it—my one and only chance. I had to make a run for it. As soon as he bent over to unlock my feet, I pulled his gun from his belt. He immediately stepped back, shocked.

  “Uncuff my ankles,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let me go.” I held him at gunpoint. The temptation of pulling the trigger then and there was unbearable, but I couldn’t free myself. Only he had the key, and he was too far for me to take it from him.

  When I could feel the blood circulating through my ankles I stood, but he punched me in the jaw, then kneed me in the stomach. I dropped the gun.

  Matthew laughed, then dove for the gun, but I kicked him away. For once, he was the prey. I ripped the dagger out of my boot. I cut him a couple of times—I wanted his blood, his head, his life. I wanted revenge. I wanted him to suffer. Nothing other than his slow and painful death would quench my thirst.

  He threw me against the wall, bashing my skull, and a steady, thin stream of blood trickled down my brow and filled my lips. I spun back and kicked him, followed by a few other strikes before he pounded on me. I ran the dagger across his arms, his hands, his chest, anywhere that I could reach. I pinned him to the wall and brought the blade to his throat. His purple eyes glimmered with fear and desperation, as his lips slowly let out quivering breaths. He was losing. This was my chance, to end his life. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I felt a smile creep onto my face.

  Finally, he fell to his knees, defeated, surrendering to fear. I looked at his bloodied body. I hated him, and the idea of slicing his throat boiled in my veins. I slowly, calmly walked up to him, determined to finish him, to take his life, until he spoke.

  “You can’t kill your father . . . not the man who gave you life,” he muttered in a deep voice.

  I froze. My father? I didn’t believe him. He was lying. He was trying to save his neck. He couldn’t be my father. A father was supposed to love his child, take care of his child, help his child, but all he’d ever done was torture and kill. We couldn’t share the same blood. I refused to be his daughter.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” he laughed. “Think about it—your eyes, your hair . . . You don’t know your last name or your parents. I was against giving you the C.I. Pill. You’re my heir. I can tell you everything you’ve ever wondered about.”

  “No!” I yelled. I had to make him stop. He was infiltrating my mind like a virus, a parasite. He was persuading me to spare his life. I brought the blade closer to his throat.

  “I had a computer set up when you were born that’s connected to your mind. It has recorded every moment of your life. Everything you’ve ever seen, heard, smelled, tasted, felt . . . You can see what I’m saying if you don’t believe me. How else would I have known you were at The Shadows? I didn’t attack simply because you allowed me to learn so much about the enemy. You fed me all the intel I needed. You were the spy and the traitor for The Shadows. You showed me Maria.” Matthew dragged me through the dirt with his words.

  “That’s not true! Why did you ask me about Nick? You would have already known who Maxime was without having to see his scar. You would know . . .” I stopped before I gave too much away. I was choking on my own words.

  “I knew exactly who Nick was, but I needed to test your training. Maxime, on the other hand . . . your emotions blurred many images. I know you better than you think.” His eyes were glimmering with fear. He was desperate and would say anything to save his life.

  “That’s not true! Stop it!”

  “Your full name is Alexia Rebel Matthews, born March 25 on a Sunday night at 10:34 in the evening. Your mother was Catalina. You look just like her.”

  “I don’t believe you! It’s not true!” I cried.

  “Not believing it doesn’t make it false. Ask me anything. Anything!” Matthew’s violet eyes burned.

  “What happened to her? What about my brother? What about Maxime? How could you use your daughter as a scientific experiment?” I was ready to plunge the blade right through him, but something stopped me; I wanted answers.

  “Your brother?” He was surprised I knew. “Sam is only a couple years older than you. He didn’t understand the War. He was a pacifist and couldn’t be my heir. Your mother sent him away without my knowledge until it was too late to bring him back.”

  “Why would she send him away?”

  “Because she didn’t think he was safe here.”

  “In Tamizeh? His land? Home? I want the whole story! The truth!”

  “I–I wanted to disinherit him.”

  “So she sent him away? Stop lying!” I pressed the blade against his neck and a trickle of blood oozed down his neck.

  “I was going to give him the C.I. Pill. He couldn’t lead. He wasn’t made to lead.”

  “What happened to my mother?”

  “She died two days after you were born.”

  “Of what?”

  “Side effects. We had injected the S.S. chemical into her body three months into her pregnancy. Her body couldn’t take it, but yours adapted.”

  “And Maxime? Why?”

  “Please—”

  “Tell me now!” I leaned harder on the dagger.

  “I didn’t think you would be strong enough. I needed a son.”

  “So you used me for ten years to transfer my mutations to Maxime?”

  “They’re not mutations! They’re gifts! Please, you have to understand. Tamizeh is huge. I needed to know my heir would be strong enough to support it, strong enough to fight for it. I didn’t know you.”

  “Am I strong enough now?” I wanted to break him into pieces and hear his bones shatter for all he had done. I wasn’t sure whether I could believe him or not, but his stories had some truth to them. He had killed millions without blinking. Family or not, only hate bonded us, not a drop of lov
e. I needed his blood to spill.

  “That knife you’re holding was your mother’s. She gave it to your brother on his fifth birthday and he put it aside, not knowing what to do with it. I may be a monster, but I didn’t put weapons in children’s hands.”

  I looked at the dagger as tears filled my eyes. My whole life was a lie.

  Suddenly, Matthew kicked me and tore the knife from my hand. I dove for the gun, but he picked it up. I wasn’t ready to give in, not after having endured so much, regardless of its danger.

  I kicked his hand, and the gun flew into the wall. As he went to grab it, I ran out into the hallway. A few shots were fired. He ran behind me, calling for soldiers, his footsteps beating in my ears.

  I ran up the first flight of stairs and found prisoners locked in cells all around me. I saw Nick and ran to him. I pulled the door wide open with the keys I found not too far away. I dragged him to his feet, and he smiled. I hung his arms over my neck and hauled him onto my back. I wasn’t leaving him behind. As I lugged him down the corridor, the soldiers started to catch up, firing bullets, and I dragged Nick into an adjacent cell.

  “I’ll hold them back, and you make a run for it. You can’t take me with you, and you need to go now!” Nick screamed.

  “Nonsense! I’m not leaving you!”

  “You wouldn’t be. You’ll come back; I know you will, but to do so, you need to leave now.”

  A soldier walked in from behind, and I quickly threw him hard against the floor and disarmed him. Nick grabbed the laser.

  “Please go. Trust me.” He propped himself up against the wall, ready to fire at the coming soldiers and Matthew. I nodded, but promised to return, and he smiled warmly. He would survive; he always did.

  Nick shot a few laser bullets, and I made a run for it. As I shut the door behind me, I heard one gunshot. I froze, waiting to hear the outcome. I needed Nick to respond, to give me a sign of life.

  “Finish him off!” Matthew screamed, and one final shot resonated throughout the corridor. Nick had died because I had left him. I could have saved him. He had given his life for mine when I had nothing to offer in return. He had left his wife, family, and friends. And he had died in my place.

  I choked on my tears. It was as if the shot had gone through my heart, like it was intended, how it should have been. Nick was gone.

  Suddenly, I was tackled from behind, and Matthew pinned me to the wall, smashed his gun down on my head, and I collapsed. He pushed my face into the wall, grinding my cheekbones against the cold surface and tugged on my arms. He turned me around and pounded my head against a door. He tied my wrists together, cutting off the circulation. I had failed. I hadn’t even been able to avenge Nick.

  “Was any of it true?” I asked sadly.

  He sighed. “All but the story about the dagger. Yes, you are my daughter. The dagger was your mother’s, but she was against Sam training so young and would have never given it to him. I gave him a laser gun when he was four. He couldn’t aim at all. It was frightening, and he would always cry to Catalina, because he was against the War. There was a time when she truly loved me, you know? But after she heard me speak of the C.I. Pill, I became a monster in her eyes. She didn’t understand that Sam wasn’t the heir I needed. She looked at me like I was lower than dirt, but I loved her. I did.” Matthew’s violet eyes grew soft, and it was the first time I’d ever seen him show a real human emotion.

  “What do you want from me?” I muttered. He hadn’t shown the slightest bit of mercy for Nick. He hadn’t given him a chance. I loathed him more than anything.

  “You heard, The Shadows attacked. I need you to get them to surrender. They’re not giving up,” Matthew explained as he pulled harder on the rope’s ends.

  “I won’t do it,” I said.

  “I didn’t give you a choice. Come on, we need to hurry.”

  Matthew put the gun to my back and had the soldiers return to the battlefield. He kept pushing me and yelling at me to pick up my feet as he dragged me around.

  We went upstairs instead of using an elevator or suction capsule. He bounced me off walls, fighting me to keep moving. I wasn’t ready to give in. I couldn’t tell where we were headed, but the building was empty and the electricity gave out. Hope flourished in me as the evidence supported Matthew’s defeat. He was losing everything.

  He opened a door at the top of the stairs and pushed me through to the roof. The sky was heavenly, the air was cold, but pure, the sun was radiant, and a clean, thick layer of snow covered the whole area. It was beautiful. I wanted to see beyond the roof, and Matthew conveniently brought me toward the edge.

  Chaos reigned. Bodies were scattered everywhere on the field. Blasts of burning energy surged from every direction. Yells and screams suffocated the foul stench of fresh blood that drowned the soil. Matthew’s men were being spared, disarmed, and immobilized by The Shadows’s army, which had multiplied in mass and was using 6359Ts. Maxime’s men were being brutishly exterminated, but kept moving forward, fearless. Matthew was running out of soldiers and ground. Somehow, The Shadows was slowly and painfully obliterating H.S.H.S., but at a very high price. They were outnumbered, but each Shadow soldier took on five of Matthew’s. Although they were being slaughtered, they were gaining ground.

  Matthew pushed me to my knees. “All this blood is on your hands. You could have avoided this. This is why Tamizeh needs to take control. With one superior community, no blood would need to be shed, but you refused and had to pull Maxime back into this. This is on you—your fault; your genocide. Don’t worry; it can still be fixed. Your community does not have to be exterminated,” Matthew spoke calmly with a tint of uncontrolled rage ready to be unleashed.

  He lifted me to my feet again and walked me to the edge with the gun under my chin. I looked up to the beautiful sky. He might have given me life, but he would not control it.

  “Maxime! I know you can hear me. You’re looking for me and Alexia. I have one offer: you surrender and she lives. Your choice!” Matthew shouted into the biting wind. His voice roared with fear, complete madness, and a splash of tensed joy.

  There was no answer.

  I longed to hear Maxime’s beautiful, soothing voice. I was truly desperate to see him, feel his warmth. But not in this way, not like this.

  “Maxime!” Matthew yelled.

  And then he pulled me back, aimed his gun, and shot me in the right knee where David had shot me so long ago.

  I collapsed and howled in pain. Warm blood gushed from my leg, spilling out onto the fresh, white snow. I clenched my jaw as tears slipped down my cheeks. I turned onto my back, twisting in pain.

  Matthew took me by the arm and pulled me up. He pressed his gun firmly under my chin. Agony pierced through me, as if my leg had been torn off. I cried out in pain . . . it was all I could do.

  “What happened to not hurting family?” I managed to say through gritted teeth.

  “I just said you couldn’t kill your father. This is a different situation,” Matthew spoke to the wind, scanning the battlefield, looking for Maxime.

  “Two minutes ago you wouldn’t have killed me,” I laughed.

  “I don’t have many options. Besides, there will be more children to choose from to bring up as my heirs, and running tests on you afterward could only make the results better. Don’t worry; it’s nothing we can’t heal.”

  He pressed the gun harder against my throat, choking me. My head started to spin as blood pooled around me, seeping into the snow, melting it like acid. I closed my eyes and tried to remain conscious, although I could feel my life slipping away.

  And then I heard that sweet, soothing voice.

  “Let her go!”

  Maxime’s voice rang in my ears faintly, like a disappearing memory. It was a dream that I desperately wanted to reach out and grab.

  Matthew spun around, and I slowly opened my eyes. While the cold snow started to fall, the blur in front of me turned into a figure, then a silhouette until I could completely mak
e out the deep, cerulean eyes framed by the soft, black curls.

  Maxime was pointing his gun at Matthew.

  “You can’t shoot me,” Matthew laughed.

  The vision of Maxime brought me strength and hope. I smiled with all that was left of me, trying to meet Maxime’s glow, remembering his warm touch and wishing it were draped around me to protect me from the bitter cold.

  “I, on the other hand . . .” Matthew shot at Maxime, who took a bullet to his right shoulder. I tried to push out of Matthew’s grasp, but he tightened his arm around my neck to keep me in place. My left leg started to wobble. Matthew gave up using me as bait and threw me aside. I fell face-first into the ice. I weakly turned onto my back, but I could only watch from a distance.

  Maxime was shaking, unable to keep the gun pointed at Matthew. Matthew tried to shoot him again, but Maxime spun around and just barely saved himself. He didn’t wait for the next shot and ran up to Matthew, slid across the snow, tripped him, and the gun flew out of reach. Matthew pounded on Maxime, who couldn’t return any strike.

  “You can’t win, Maxime. You were defeated before you even started.” Matthew struck Maxime in the stomach, who let out a faint grunt before getting his head smashed into the ice. A thick, fetid odor of blood started to leak from Maxime’s skull.

  I tried to untie myself, but couldn’t get the rope off my wrists. I dragged myself through the snow toward the gun. A trail of blood followed me, loyal to my every move. I bit my tongue to hold in a scream and kept my eyes shut to focus my energy and keep the world from spinning. Hums of explosives rang in my head, while blasts echoed behind me from below. I reached out for the gun, just able to touch it, but my fingers were crushed by a heavy boot. I looked up to see Matthew glaring down at me. He pulled me to my feet and took the gun. Maxime laid in agony by the edge of the roof, squirming, striving to get back to his feet. My heart sank. He needed to get up; he had to get up.

  Matthew dragged me over to Maxime and pointed the gun at Maxime’s head. I closed my eyes and looked away, choking on my own saliva and drowning in my tears.

  “Please,” I begged. “Please don’t do this.”