by SF Benson
We drag Griffin inside, tie and gag him, and leave him in a locked closet. I retrieve my weapon from the front porch before we run down the stairs to the boat.
“Z, did he mention Leon?” Asher steers the boat out onto the open water.
“No. Either he’s at the marina, or on his way to North Woods. We’ve got to get there before him.”
Asher says, “I’m stuck on how he found us.”
The image of the old man on the dock yesterday comes to mind. What if he told them about us? “Ash, we need to be more careful. Yesterday, there was an old guy on the dock watching us.”
Asher slams his fist on the steering wheel. “Why didn’t you say something yesterday?”
I have nothing to say. A dumbass move on my part, which could’ve gotten us arrested or worse. Like I said, when the heart’s involved, mistakes are made.
I glance at Ko sitting in the other seat. She’s a statue, pale and blank. Proof that there are flaws in the Riza program. I tap Asher on the shoulder and jerk my thumb toward her.
“Yeah. I know.” He settles back into the seat and maneuvers the boat in the direction of a small community up ahead.
“Ash, you wanna switch places?” I ask. “Let me drive.”
“No. I’m fine,” he says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Yeah. Right.
Asher lands the vessel along the shore and we pile out. He reaches for Ko’s bag, but I push his hand away.
“I got the bags, man.” I jerk my chin toward Ko. “See about her. She needs you right now.”
He glances at Ko. The girl forces a watery smile on her face. Asher opens his arms wide, and she collapses in his embraces.
This shit ends here. She has to be trained the right way. Riza’s Cadet program assumes officers will never see the front lines of battle. Well, there’s a war brewing, and everyone has to fight.
The three of us walk away from the marina. I’m surprised to find another black Mustang parked on a back road. Ko climbs into the rear seat and closes her eyes.
Asher slides into the driver’s seat and presses the ignition button. “Courtesy of Mark. I told him we’d need transportation.”
“Ash, we’ve got a problem,” I admit after he steers onto the blacktop and Ko falls asleep.
He glances into the rearview mirror and says, “Tell me about it. She can’t help us right now. Dude, what am I supposed to do?”
“Maybe we can find an inn—”
He glares at me. “I won’t leave her. She can’t protect herself.”
“I realize that, but she’s going to end up getting killed.”
“I won’t let it happen,” Asher says, his voice strained. “We finish this, and I’ll get her some help. Maybe I’ll take her to New Mexico. Start over.”
“She doesn’t need a fresh start. What she needs is to be trained. Teach her how to fight. Hell, even Tru can stand up for herself.”
“Drop it, Zared,” he orders and stares ahead.
At that moment, it crosses my mind Asher might blame me for my father’s actions.
“A better tomorrow starts with inoculation today.”
—An announcement from the Centers for Human Advancement
Tru
Taa escorts me to Shara’s room—a tribute to an antique Barbie dream house. Barbie’s anatomically incorrect man friend is the only thing missing from the putrid pink room. The Easter Bunny would throw up with the amount of pink adorning the small space—a pink floral comforter, pink shag rug, and a pink and white desk. A white wardrobe is near the door with pink handles. I sit down on her twin-sized bed and clutch my stomach.
“Let me guess, Shara’s favorite color’s pink?” I run my sweaty hand across the hot pink scrubs.
“Yes. What’s your favorite color?”
Most people gravitate toward only one color. But when you see the world like I do, there’s beauty in every single shade. To appease Taa, however, I tell her, “Purple.”
“Interesting.” Taa goes to the closet. “You’ll find warmer items in here. When they come for you in the morning, choose wisely. You’ll be outside for a while.”
“If I show up in a jacket, won’t that tip off people?” I inquire anxiously.
“No. Shara’s special here,” she states. “They’ll indulge her final whim to choose an outfit instead of wearing scrubs.”
There won’t be another time to learn the answer, I realize. “What makes Shara so special?”
Taa twists her body and looks at me. “When I see her, I see Gabriela.”
I didn’t expect that answer.
She continues, “Despite our differences, your mother and I were friends.”
I know the answer before I even ask the question. “Differences?”
“I knew about the affair.” She sighs and sits next to me. “It happened before I left. Katsuo was never an easy man to live with, but he got worse right before the virus began. Maybe it was the stress. I don’t know. I think he genuinely loved her. I planned on leaving him. The virus and the need to trap Malcolm made my choice easier.”
“But you left Zared behind with that man,” I accuse.
“Katsuo would never hurt him.”
“But…” It’s not my place to discuss Zared and his father with her. Let her hold on to her delusions. Enough lives have been destroyed.
My eyes scan the room for cameras. Oddly, nothing resembles a listening device. “Taa, is this room bugged?”
“No. Shara didn’t require it,” she says with a somber expression on her face.
I don’t know what type of person my replica is, but I do know she’s worth saving. No one should have to put up with the cruelties delivered in this place. “Can you make sure Shara’s safe? She can’t stay here with Holden.”
Taa takes my hand and this time, I let her. “No need to worry about Shara. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“How will you protect her? Holden won’t forgive either of you when he learns the truth. Maybe you should leave with me.” Although I’d only known Zared’s mother for a short time, I’m certain he'd want me to save her as well.
A smile tugs at her lips. “You, Truly Shara Shepard, are a beautiful human being. You care for others even if it means risking yourself. I understand why my son cares for you. Your mother must have been proud.”
I hang my head. The memory of my insufferable behavior is too fresh. “My mother and I didn’t part on good terms.”
“My dear”—she lifts my chin—“your mother loved you so much. I’m sure nothing you did changed that.”
“I’m not so sure. I wasn’t a good daughter,” I admit.
“Nonsense. Gabriela loved you. She never stopped talking about you.” Taa drops her hand. “Do you know the meaning behind your name?”
“No. I’ve always hated my name.” I figured it was an insider’s joke between my parents. “Who names a kid Truly?”
“Your name is prophetic. Shara means ‘she sings the truth.’ Gabriela added truly before it to emphasize the message. Your mother once told me you could be an insufferable little girl at times. You had this thirst, she called it, for wanting the truth.”
“I guess I still do,” I mutter.
“Something you inherited from both parents, I’m afraid. Tomás was a whistleblower. It’s why he joined the Alliance. Your mother stumbled across Operation Rescue while she was pregnant. I advised her not to say anything about it.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want your life in danger. But she didn’t listen and created the SIM card. She wanted to expose the government’s plans. Gabriela said Tomás would have wanted her to do it.”
“I’m not trying to be rude, but why the prophetic name?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with your parents’ obsession with the truth.”
“And the card? What did she want done with it?”
“She wanted the info exposed, but not before you were ready.”
“M
e?” A deep ache settles in my chest and throat.
“Gabriela wanted you to reveal the info on that card. She encrypted the card with your passcode. You were supposed to receive it on your eighteenth birthday if you had managed to avoid the vaccine.”
“Why didn’t she tell me these things? We could have avoided so much if she had said this.”
I open and close my mouth. Don’t trust anyone. Cris’ words come back to me. Mom didn’t want me to know about the SIM card. He warned me not to let her know I had it. Suddenly, Taa’s words fill me with doubt.
She is right about one thing—my obsession with learning the truth. I’m intolerant of liars. I judge others harshly. Instead of moving beyond lies, I let them color my vision, my actions.
“Maybe she was just protecting you,” Taa suggests.
“It doesn’t matter what her intentions were,” I state. “I became an idiot obsessed with the truth. And it robbed me of my final days with my mother. She gave me a cross too heavy to bear. I’m no one’s savior.” The lump forming in my throat won’t budge, no matter how hard I swallow.
I flinch when Taa places her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself for what your sister-in-law did. Eden is a reckless, vindictive bitch.”
I’m guilty of recklessness, too. “But—”
“No buts. Listen to me,” she says. “You’re a fighter. A survivor. You need to stay focused to escape this place. Help is coming, but you’ve got to rely on yourself until it gets here.”
She’s right. If I stay alive, I’ll see Zared again. “What do I have to do?”
“In the disposal room, we inject you with a medication that slows your heart rate. Normally, the person dies on the table. I’ve rigged the machine to read you’re dead. I’ll insist on preparing your body myself for departure. After I inject you with the reversal drug, you’ll have twenty… maybe thirty minutes before you’re awake.”
“And then what?”
“Bodies are transported in a van,” she responds. “I’ll make sure you have a weapon and a burner phone inside the body bag.”
“Where does the van go?” I fidget with the edge of the comforter. Vultures take the place of the butterflies and peck away at my insides.
“An incinerator in the town of Gwinn. You’re going to have to restrain the driver.” Concern flickers in her eyes. “Can you do that?”
“Yes.” I never thought I’d have a use for all of Cris’ self-defense lessons.
“Good. You’ll travel to the safe house on foot. It’s at the edge of town near the lake. I’ll get you the address in the morning.”
I place my hand on her knee. “Taa, promise me you’ll find a way to leave here with Shara.”
Taa shakes her head slowly. “Tru, I can’t—”
“I don’t care about protocol. Get Shara out of this place,” I say. “I don’t care how you do it. If people ask, say she’s my twin sister. It’s important to me that both of you are safe. Meet me at the safe house. If you don’t do it, we’ll come back for you.”
She places a hand on her chest. “You’d honestly come back for me?”
I smile. I have my doubts, but this is his mother. “After all you’ve done for me, do you have to ask? Besides, there’s no way Zared would allow you to stay here.”
She pushes a strand of hair away from my face. “You are a remarkable, bright girl. Let no one fool you. If you applied yourself, you could be Cogent.”
“Maybe. But being Cogent lacks beauty. It’s all about symmetry and order. I’m a free thinker. I appreciate things that are out of alignment. I find beauty in chaos. There’s no way I’d trade being a Creative for anything.”
“Understood.” Taa reaches over and removes the band from my hair. “In order to pass for Shara, you need to wear your hair loose.”
I nod. “What else?”
“I’m sure you noticed her speech is rather formal. When you walk, take shorter strides. She’s never in a hurry to get anywhere.”
“Got it.”
She holds her hand out. “I’ll need Holden’s promise ring.”
I gladly remove the ring and drop it in her palm.
“Allegiance to the New Order causes stunted brain development, impaired thinking, and hopelessness. Don’t you deserve better? Join the Alliance and save yourself.”
—A message from the Alliance
Zared
Sudbury, Ontario. A nice name for a ghost town. Asher steers the car around the corner onto a street named Moonlight Avenue, a fitting name. Nothing but the light of the moon would want to occupy this desolate area.
Asher drives the car past rows of boarded up buildings devastated by what…war? I assumed the AR was the only country which suffered from the Street Wars. Then again, maybe this town’s blight is a result of the Virus.
A single-story, run-down motel is at the end of the road. Heaps of orange and brown bricks litter a parking lot full of potholes and cracked pavement. Parked amid the rubble is a black pickup truck. Inside is my nemesis, Mark Carter. Asher pulls the car alongside the vehicle.
A tall, muscular man with dark stubble, wearing jeans, a leather jacket, and a beanie gets out and tosses a faded green knapsack on the hood.
Asher glimpses over his shoulder. “Ko’s still asleep. Let’s go see Mark.”
Demolishing the dump of a hotel might improve its appearance. A broken and cracked sidewalk borders the front of the building. Shards of glass dangle from the windows. Warped tiles rise from the roof. Near the front door sits a rusty tricycle. The pungent stench of urine hangs in the air.
Asher greets Mark. “Good to see you, dude.”
“Same here,” he says with a quick glance in my direction. A flash of temper lights his eyes.
I close the car door and catch sight of… Leon. He sits behind the wheel of his Pathfinder truck in the middle of the street. How the hell did we miss him back at the marina?
“Ash, we’ve got company,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the truck. “Four o’clock.”
He starts looking around. “Damn. Who is it?”
“Leon. He’s in his truck.”
Mark lights up a cigarette. “He’s been sitting there for a minute or two. Pulled up shortly after I did. Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of it.”
Asher puts his hand on his gun.
“I said I got this, Jones.” Mark takes a drag on the cancer stick. “Take the knapsack. You’ll find IDs, passports, cash. Look in the back of the truck and you’ll find three more sacks. Each one has a disguise. Get to a transit center and take care of it.”
“Any news for us?” Asher asks.
Mark jerks his thumb toward me. “He’s still wanted if that’s what you’re asking. There’s been some turmoil up at North Woods. Supposedly, one of the scientists is sick.”
I keep my eye on Leon. He sits there with his hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at me. No sign of Griffin.
“Any idea who it is?” I ask.
Mark glares at me and then angles his body toward Asher. “No confirmation of the identity nor what the illness is. They’re on high alert.”
Asher rubs his neck. “Which means we need to pick up the pace. How do you want to handle Jolly St. Nick?”
The two of them huddle closer together.
I clench my jaw. I’ve grown tired of Mark treating me like I don’t exist. We still share a mutual dislike for each other, but I would’ve thought he’d gotten over himself by now. This isn’t the time to rehash some childish shit. Mark needs to grow up.
“Give me a minute,” I say. “I want to find out what he knows.”
Asher jerks his thumb toward the sky. “Stay cool, Zared. We can’t call attention to ourselves.”
I glance up and notice the drone hovering overhead. Any sudden moves would alert the authorities, but we can’t stay here, either. “Maybe your friend can do his part if he’s got a blade.”
Mark glares at me and opens the back door of the Mustang. “Get in the truck.
”
Ko wakes up and looks around.
“You too, Sleeping Beauty.” He pulls her out of the back seat.
The three of us pile into the cab. I feel for my gun. Mark stands near the Mustang. Leon approaches the truck as I lower the window.
Jolly St. Nick clears his throat. “Good to see ya.”
“Can’t say the same, old man. Where’s Griffin?”
The man ignores my question. “I opened my home to ya, and this is how ya treat me.”
“Your stepson held us hostage. Not cool.”
I notice Mark walking toward Leon’s truck. Jolly St. Nick leans over the open window.
“That’s your plan? Your friend slits my tires to slow me down. Did ya think I wouldn’t notice?” he asks.
I pull my gun. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t need you nor Griffin slowing me down. I’ve got a mission to complete, and I’m not above putting a bullet in your jolly, fat ass.”
“Fine.” Leon raises his hands and backs away from the door. “But this isn’t over. You’ll see me again.”
“I don’t plan on it,” I say, slowly raising the window.
Asher starts the engine. I don’t see Mark nor the Mustang.
“Where’d Mark go?” I ask.
“He’ll meet us at the safe house.” Asher eases the truck onto the blacktop, revs the motor, and speeds off.
“Safe house?”
“Yeah. Just got word. My contact will have Tru out by morning.”
“Imagine the advantages our country would see if everyone had the same potential for greatness. There’d be no need for menial work for there’d be no menial workers. There’d be no need for educational assistance because all citizens would be well-educated. Our learning centers would evolve into Centers of Excellence where all children succeeded in all STEM subjects. The UN’s ban on genetic engineering is based on fear, not rationale.”
—An interview with Jacob C. Venter, Leader, American Republic
Tru
I lie back on Shara’s twin-sized bed and try to wrap my mind around the situation. I recall her fascination with Taa’s room. Had she spent her entire life in this nauseating pink bubble? In every practical sense, Shara has been deprived. Deprived of experience… of environment… of… life. She needs rescuing just as much as I do.