When the exact same scenario happens every single morning, it’s easy to spot what is different today. Today, he’s not resting a hand on his pistol. I’m not sure if that means he is becoming more relaxed with me, or if he is getting lazy, but it tells me that he doesn’t see me as a potential threat. Nor should he. I don’t plan to do anything. I don’t even plan to try and escape even though I know at some point I’m going to find myself in the sewers of this place, guards shooting at Amber and me.
The hallways we walk through are dark but for a few soft lights that illuminate our path. It gives me the feeling of being on the inside of a Navy boat or submarine, but I know that isn’t the case because I’ve never felt any swaying. I always look at the doors we pass, wondering what might be behind them. It makes me wonder what else goes on around here. Are there others being held against their will? Are they Starborns? Am I Peter’s only subject? I’ve already decided that these observations are coming close to an end. I might have a couple of more weeks left, but soon they will discover that my power will go only so far. Then they will kill me. They’ve already taken my blood. I suppose Shadowface is waiting to see if my blood is worth injecting. Jeremiah had told us that taking the blood of a Starborn is potentially dangerous. The effects cannot be measured.
The guard and I finally make it to the end of a long hallway where I always have breakfast. There is another guard waiting outside the door and he opens it for me to enter.
Just like my bedroom, and in stark contrast to the hallways, the breakfast room is a brilliant, polished white. The floors, the walls, everything shines like someone waxes every inch daily. The lights in here are not soft, rather a bright florescent white that shows every detail of the person that sits across from me. As I sit across from Amber, I can see the red rope burn around her neck where the guards hung her in her room for about thirty seconds. There are a few spots on her face where blood vessels popped from the pressure. The sight of her brings tears to my eyes almost daily, and this morning is no different. But I don’t let them fall down my cheeks. The feeling of guilt I have outweighs the feeling of sympathy. It’s because of me that she’s being tortured. She and I both know it. But Amber knows that I have no way to stop it, doesn’t she? I hope she doesn’t blame me for this.
When she looks at me, she doesn’t usually seem angry, just scared. My coming to breakfast means another round of torture that she doesn’t deserve. I don’t know why Shadowface or Peter have decided to do it this way. I don’t know why they can’t just ask me to predict what kind of food she’s going to get for dinner. It’s sick what they are doing to us and it makes me hate Shadowface all the more.
But today, Amber looks neither angry nor scared. In a stranger twist, she actually grins at me slightly, though it’s only for a brief second. Her eyes leave my face and we look down at the plate of food in front of us. Like every day there is a single fried egg, a piece of toast, and water. It isn’t much, but both of us eat it gladly each morning. My eyes move from the plate to the card. Peter has told us both that conversation is more freely allowed now that we understand our boundaries better. The cards are meant for suggested conversation unless there is something typed out in bold. Today there is no bold, but the conversation pieces include: What is your favorite animal? Why is it your favorite animal? If you could be any animal, what would you choose? Shake Amber’s hand and see into her future for 10:00 PM.
“I don’t want to talk about these things,” Amber says to me. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Her desire to talk at all comes as a shock to me. Just because Peter said we could talk more freely didn’t mean that we ever did. I don’t even know what to talk about.
“Okay,” I say.
“What are some of your goals? Your ambitions?” Her voice cracks a little when she speaks, no doubt an effect from her punishment yesterday.
It’s an odd question, especially given the world we live in today. I would think that the answer is obvious. “To survive,” I say.
Amber shakes her head at me. “That’s not what I mean. One day we’re going to live in a world where the greyskins don’t exist. What do you want to be doing when this is all over?”
The question stumps me. It’s hard to think of life beyond the moment. A month ago my answer might have hinged on those that were around me, but for all I know everyone I cared about is dead. The outbreak happened at a point in my life where I wasn’t thinking about what I wanted to be or to do. I was just living my life, living in the moment—not much different than how I’m forced to live in this greyskin world.
“I don’t know,” I say. My answer depresses even me. If my hope is simply to survive, that isn’t much of a hope.
“There is more to surviving than simply staying alive,” Amber says to me. “I want to be a journalist.”
I turn my head a bit, confused. “A journalist?”
She nods. “That’s what I’ve always wanted to be, and soon, there will be a need for news more than ever. People will need to know what is happening in the rebuilding process. News from other towns and settlements will encourage others to continue the rebuilding process as well. Now, we have no way of transmitting information. But everyone needs it.” She shrugs as she cuts into the runny egg and takes a bite. “That’s my dream anyway. You should be thinking about what you want to do when this is all over.”
Having seen the way Amber is supposed to die, it’s difficult for me to hear about what she dreams of doing. Though I know I can see into the future and change it, sometimes change comes with the ultimate sacrifice. From what I’ve seen of her getting shot in the pool of water, it would seem that the only way I could change it would be if I took the bullets for her. I don’t want her to die, but I can’t say that I would sacrifice myself for her. I don’t like these thoughts. I feel so selfish, and they only add to the guilt that I already have.
We finish our breakfast in silence and it’s already time for me to take a short glimpse into her future. Before I reach out to touch her hand, I prepare my mind to look at her future specifically for 10:00 PM. I hate wondering what I’m going to see. It makes me want to kill the monsters that run this place.
My hand is in the air just above the table. Amber looks at it for a second, and the short grin returns. I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one that can notice it. Peter won’t see it behind the two-way mirror, but it’s like she’s trying to tell me something.
She reaches for my hand, and just before the familiar white light flashes in front of my eyes, I feel a small piece of metal placed against my palm.
It’s 10:00 PM and Amber waits in her room patiently. A guard walks in and he’s holding a club in his hands.
“I’ve been given free reign tonight,” the guard says. “You know it will be worse if you fight it.” He starts to unbuckle his belt as Amber stares at him nervously.
When he gets closer to her, she doesn’t look afraid. She doesn’t look anxious. She seems ready for something. She sits on the bed, one hand resting in her lap, the other behind her back.
“I won’t struggle if you promise not to hurt me tonight,” she says.
The guard hesitates for a moment, probably not expecting her to be willing.
“This doesn’t have to be a night of pain,” Amber continues.
The guard takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing and his mouth curving into a wide smile.
When he gets to the side of the bed, he grabs Amber by the shirt and forces her to her feet. He brings his face closer to hers. “Then kiss me,” he says.
“Okay,” Amber replies.
Her left hand goes to his neck gently, but her right remains behind her back. Her fingers clutch around a piece of sharp metal—not a knife, but a jagged piece from her metal bed it seems.
The guard closes his eye briefly to accept her kiss, but it never comes. With a tight grip, she swings the metal shard into the guard’s throat. Blood squirts all down the front of Amber’s shirt and arm as she takes a step back.
The guard’s eyes are wide and he’s unable to scream out, producing only gargling noises as he drops to his knees. Amber sits back on the bed briefly, waiting for him to be still. Finally, within a few seconds, the guard is dead on the floor, his eyes staring into the ceiling.
Amber bends down next to his body and takes his club from him. Clipped to his belt is a taser, and she grabs that too. As she walks to the bedroom door, she tries to wipe the blood from her arms but quickly gives up. She takes one last look at the dead body on the floor before leaving the room into the dark hallway beyond.
When I let go of Amber’s hand, I grip the small piece of metal that she placed in my palm. At first, I think she’s giving me something to do my own stabbing with, but as I feel it under the table with my fingers, it’s just small and flat. It feels thin like I could bend it. I want to know what it is but I can’t look down at it. Not with them watching me.
“I know not to ask you what you saw,” Amber says. “But I hope it’s good.”
I stare at her with no words to say.
“With the look you’re giving me, I might rather swim in sewage than experience whatever it is you saw,” she says. “I don’t even know how I’d get there. Maybe the second hallway? The third door on the left?” She shrugs, looking away.
Peter’s voice calls out over the intercom. “Amber that’s not the kind of conversation we need to be making. If you’re having trouble, stick to the card.”
“Sorry,” Amber says, looking at the mirror. She taps the side of her head. “Sometimes I forget to lock my mind and all sorts of words are free to flow out. Guess I need to make sure nothing is wedged in the latch.”
I feel for the metal in my fingers. She’s not really talking to the person behind the mirror. She’s still talking to me. That’s what the metal is for. She plans to escape tonight, though she doesn’t know how it’s going to play out exactly like I do. She also doesn’t know that she will be shot while swimming through a pool of muck, though I bet she would rather that happen than experience what the guard plans to do to her.
I can feel my pulse quicken as the doors open behind us and it is time to go. I know I won’t see Amber again until it’s time to try and escape. Perhaps I’ve gained enough skill in my ability that changing Amber’s future of getting shot won’t be as difficult as I think. I will just have to see when I get there.
As I’m led to my room, I think about the words Amber spoke to me after the vision. Sewage. Second hallway. Third door on the left. She was trying to tell me to meet her there. At 10:00 PM, she will have killed the guard. I need to be ready.
The guard in front of me isn’t really paying attention as we walk forward. He’s talking to someone on the radio. He’s distracted. He unlocks the door to my room and I know I only have one shot it this.
I look behind me briefly and notice that the other guard starts talking to the one that was in front of me, and the door standing wide open. I stop in the doorway and lift my hand just enough to slip the piece of metal in to keep the latch from locking in place all the way. The guards don’t notice me until they realize that I’m just standing in the doorway, staring at them.
The one closest to me scowls. “Get in your room.”
I take a step back and he closes the door. Immediately, I squat and look at the latch. With a little prodding, I’ll be able to get this door open without any problem. I don’t think this place was initially intended to be a prison. I’ve got my way out. Now Amber has to do her part.
I sit in my room and wait for Peter. I haven’t thought of what lie I’m going to tell him when he asks me what I saw. I suppose that I will just say that the guard plans to rape Amber—that he goes through with it. I suppose it doesn’t matter what I tell him. As I sit at the table, waiting, I think about the past month and how strange it has been. I’ve hated it worse than anything. Of course, when I allow myself time to think, my mind drifts to how I got here, and the sacrifices that were made. They weren’t voluntary sacrifices. The day Mitch made me shoot Ethan… I shake my head at the thought. I haven’t cried about that day much. At first I did. But not lately. Lately I’ve felt numb—tired. Right now I can’t help but wonder if Mitch is still out there terrorizing others with his mind control. I think back to a month ago and I feel sad.
Chapter 3 - Waverly
One Month Ago
My hands shook and I dropped the rifle to the floor. I couldn’t pull away from the window or tear my eyes from Ethan who was lying on the ground in the street below us.
I was the shooter. I could feel my hands trembling at the thought. I had never seen myself in this scene of Ethan’s future, but it was because I was so far away from him. I tried to see if he was breathing, but I couldn’t tell from that distance. Blood pooled out from under him. If he wasn’t dead already, then he would be soon.
If I hadn’t still been under Mitch’s control, I would have picked the rifle back up and shot him with it. But it took only a word from him for me to lose control of myself.
We should have never taken that vial of blood from Scarecrow’s car, I thought. I wish we had never gone through that small town. Back then it was just me, Ethan, Gilbert, and Lucas. If we hadn’t stopped there, Lucas and Gilbert would probably still be alive. And now, Ethan was as good as dead, too. I was the last of our group, and I didn’t foresee living much longer.
Part of me didn’t hate the thought.
Mitch walked away from me like nothing even happened—as if shooting Ethan was so insignificant to him that there was no reason to give it another thought. I finally turned and looked at him. His brown eyes looked angry. His hooked nose and clenched teeth makes him seem half insane. Of course, he may have been on the brink.
I tried not to look at the floor where Lydia, Evie’s caretaker, was. She wasn’t supposed to get mixed in with all of this. She had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. If we hadn’t brought this mess to Elkhorn, she might have still been alive. Next to her was the body of Mitch’s girlfriend, Ashley. Both of them had been killed by Samuel, who stood like a statue up against the wall, per Mitch’s command.
All it took was a spoken word from Mitch and one was forced to obey him. It’s what the Starborn blood must have done to him. Within him, Mitch carried the power to control anyone’s mind or action. If he turned and asked me to jump, I wouldn’t say how high. I would have jumped as best as I could.
He sat on his knees next to Ashley, weeping. I didn’t know how long I stood next to the window, watching him. He was unarmed, but he needed no weapon. He was a powerful Starborn. My life was in his hands.
I looked back and forth between Mitch and Ethan. I couldn’t help but hope that I had missed his heart and that he would be okay. All I needed was a wave of the arm and I would have known he was alive. I squinted through my watery eyes to see if he was breathing, but my sight failed me. I looked away from Ethan and glanced in Samuel’s direction. He stood motionless against the wall and his eyes caught mine.
I didn’t know much about the man. All I knew was what I saw in the visions and then in real life only a few moments before. His ruthless, murderous actions were cold and terrible. I had already judged Shadowface by the company she kept, and now I judged her even worse. Whoever she was, she needed to be stopped. I just feared that I would have no part in it.
Mitch was going to kill me.
Many thoughts passed through my mind in those few seconds as I watched Mitch cry. One of the thoughts was that I somehow deserved what I was going to get from him. Though I had not pulled the final trigger to end Ashley’s life, I had meant to. But apparently she had been planning to meet with Samuel all along. It seemed that she was supposed to meet Shadowface. That was all part of their plan.
Mitch’s angry eyes found mine. “You ruined everything,” he said.
“She was going to kill you,” I said, though I know now it wasn’t true. What I had seen in the vision seemed different than when I was there in real life. In the vision, I saw her pointing a gu
n at Mitch’s back when, in reality, she was probably aiming past Mitch at the greyskins or enemies outside the window. But in the vision, she had said she killed everyone. “She even told Samuel that she killed my sister. She killed Jeremiah.”
“She was lying,” Mitch said. “I saw my father last night.”
“What about my sister?”
Mitch shook his head. “It wasn’t part of the plan. Ashley didn’t kill anyone. She was going after Shadowface, but she needed the blood first.”
“Then why didn’t you just include me in your little plan? None of this would have happened if you hadn’t have been so secretive.” I wasn’t sure if pointing the blame at Mitch was such a good idea, but his expression stayed the same and he remained at Ashley’s side.
“It was between me and her,” he said. “We didn’t trust anyone else.” He looked down at her body. “It has always been just me and her.” He stroked her arm up and down with his knuckles as if she was sleeping soundly while he admired her. But the bullet hole in her forehead allowed for no such illusion. He looked away from her and back at me. “The plan was to steal the blood from you in the last moment to keep you out of the loop for as long as possible. We didn’t want any loose threads. But Shadowface’s attack was much more difficult to predict than we thought. More…explosive.” He set Ashley’s arm on the floor gently and stood to his feet. His eyes went to Samuel who stiffened slightly. “You told her that Shadowface would meet with her today. You said that she would be here, but you already planned to stop using Ashley, didn’t you?”
“We knew her time was up,” Samuel answered involuntarily. “We’ve suspected all along that she was playing both sides to see which would come out ahead, but we found that to be even more useful than trusting her completely. It made her predictable. Today Shadowface decided that she was finished with Ashley.”
The Starborn Ascension: Books 1, 2, and 3 (The Starborn Saga) Page 48