The WereGames III - Game Over: A Paranormal Dystopian Romance

by Jade White

  JJ watched as Stephen’s eyes widened, and gone was the rage he’d seen in them. His younger brother took another step back, just before JJ could pat his shoulder. “Steph-” “We should -- you should get back. I need to rest for a while,” Stephen said, trying to gain some of his foothold back. JJ watched as his brother left the room, and he couldn’t help but be filled with worry. He would have to come up with some credible excuse for Stephen’s sudden departure.

  Walking back to the ballroom, he saw that the crowd was enjoying the spectacle from the dancers that had been hired, twirling their colorful skirts, looking every bit like some Broadway performance. He saw Dr. Wallace from across the room, calmly seated on a gilded chair, enjoying the spectacle of people ogling over half-naked women; his attention was not on the women themselves.

  He was holding a glass of sherry, and from afar, he looked every bit a decent gentleman, were it not for the sinister smile that crossed his lips once in a while. There was a glint in his eye that made JJ think that Dr. Wallace wanted to dissect each and every person in the ballroom, including him.

  It sent a shudder down his spine.

  *

  Stephen curled up on his old bed, a bed he hadn’t slept on in months. He was always away in the field and had been used to hard and lumpy cots, or the ground. It was a comforting feeling to be back in his bed, but it made him feel vulnerable.

  What the hell had that been? It was as if something had taken over him. JJ’s question kept reverberating in his mind. What did Dr. Wallace give you?

  Yes, what was it? All he had gotten was a bionic arm. What else could it have been? He couldn’t have injected something into his arm without him knowing about it. He’d been there during the entire process, an excruciating thirty-three-hour operation that had gone on for a span of two days. His father had commended the job Wallace had done and had finally seen his son in the infirmary for a mere five minutes; all the time, he had been unconscious. He was only informed of it hours after he had woken up, groggy from the painkillers.

  Painkillers. Stephen took a breath, suddenly wanting to talk to Dr. Wallace. He needed to know what else was in those painkillers, and perhaps, he would need more. He had just gotten up when he heard a knock on the door. He could smell perfume, and it was suddenly a stronger scent than he remembered. He knew it was her, knew it was Jeanne.

  “Come in,” he said, trying to control the annoyance in his voice.

  Jeanne stepped in hesitantly, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dimmed room. His room was like any other ordinary masculine room, and it was surprisingly clean. “Are you okay? I waited for you to come back… General Magnus said you weren’t feeling too well. Is it your arm?”

  Stephen was confused. Earlier, she had been uncomfortable with his arm, and now, she was acting like she had been concerned all along. He could see right through her. “You don’t have to be here.”

  “Excuse me?” she said, stopping in her tracks.

  “You don’t have to pretend that you feel even an ounce of empathy for me. Obviously, you don’t. My fake arm bothers you; it doesn’t even look like one, does it? It’s not made out of silicone or rubber; it’s just all titanium and carbon-fiber, fused with my veins and muscles. You wouldn’t want to marry me, Jeanne. You can marry anyone else, but not me. Let’s make ourselves happy, huh?”

  Jeanne stood in silence at first, blinking and digesting what he had just told her. “You’re not happy with this arrangement?”

  “Why? Are you?”

  “I- I’m only doing my part,” she stammered, surprised by his sudden viciousness. Gone was the controlled, and sometimes childish, fiancée. In his place was a soldier who most likely suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder.

  “You’re going to marry a crazed soldier. Would you want that?” he challenged her.

  “You’re the president’s son,” she breathed out, not wanting to be bullied. The Caledons needed her family as much as her family needed them. It was all part of the plan, and her father wanted to get into the family’s inner circle, like General Magnus’ wife had.

  “I know what you’re like, Jeanne. I know how people like you are.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You’re only in it for the power, and you don’t even like me.”

  “I tolerate you,” she blurted out.

  “You and most,” he gave a mirthful laugh. “Tolerate. I suppose it’s better than being hated, now isn’t it?”

  Jeanne said nothing, but he looked at her as she slowly backed away toward the door. “Don’t move an inch,” he growled at her. His eyes gave off a reddish hue; Jeanne saw this and gasped.

  “Steph, you’re scaring me.”

  “I’m not doing anything to you. I said don’t move an inch,” he said again.

  Jeanne took a shaky breath; her scream was caught up in her throat. “Please, please, Steph. I need to go back.”

  “You’re marrying me anyway. Who says we can’t have time together?”

  Jeanne closed her eyes, the urge to scream growing stronger. “Steph- please, this is getting silly.”

  “Childish?” he interjected. “They’ve always thought of me as the spare, you know. Just in case JJ dies, I’m the replacement son.” He stood up, cracking his neck.

  Jeanne could hear it from a few feet away. One foot slid behind her, ready to run. He was going to hurt her, she knew it. He quickly walked up to her and held one arm. She struggled. “Let go of me!”

  Just as she was about to scream, the door flung open and in came JJ and his wife, Vanessa.

  “Let her go, Stephen,” JJ intoned.

  Stephen’s irises were tinged with red. “Whatever for, brother?”

  “I said, let her go.”

  Stephen sighed, closing his eyes. He flung her away, and Vanessa caught the terrified young woman in her arms. Jeanne was sobbing, mumbling something about ‘he’s crazy.’

  JJ turned to look at his wife and nodded. “Take her away. She needs to freshen up.”

  Vanessa nodded, eyeing her brother-in-law, who was irate and irrational. She was trying her best to soothe the twenty-year-old as they walked out of the bedroom. As soon as the door slammed shut, JJ locked it.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you?” JJ snapped. “What did you take?”

  “Nothing!” Stephen spat out. “She only wanted to marry me for power.”

  “That’s what arranged marriages are for. Are you high?” JJ asked him, walking up to his brother. He towered a few inches above Stephen, and he could see his young brother’s pupils were dilated and reddish. Without warning, he injected something onto Stephen’s neck, tantamount to stabbing him.

  “You son of a-” Stephen crumpled to the ground, his eyes closing.

  JJ pressed a button. “Yes, I need a doctor – east wing, Third floor, 12th door to the right of the hall,” he said. He looked at his brother on the carpeted floor, his face contorted as if in pain, even if he was unconscious. Stephen was going to have a few tests run by doctors who weren’t from Sector 13.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It had been a blur of faces, and Ryker surprisingly remembered them all. He forced himself to. These were the people who would help him get Alexia back. Sarah had turned out to be the daughter of General Langley, a weretiger who was the head of their military might of five hundred men and women.

  Leopold had introduced him to everyone who worked for weaponry and tactics, and he had been introduced to a handful of scientists – a good number of twenty-five. His DNA test had come back positive, matching his hair with those people in the photos.

  “So, I’m really an Auberon,” he’d said, elated and yet dejected, the moment he had found out. He was indeed the great-grandson of the former president of the country, when it had been a true democracy. It made him feel disjointed from what memories he had held onto with Raven and Philip. The Locklears were still his family, no matter what.

  “Congratulations,” Leopold had told him, “I wasn’t lying.�
��

  “I didn’t-” Ryker stopped, knowing he had willfully called him a liar. “I was just… I apologize for my behavior the last time.”

  “You’re forgiven. There are more pressing matters to attend to. One, I’ve had Alexia traced. The last place she’d been seen was crossing over to Washington State.”

  “If you’re hiding here, how can you --” Ryker stopped, confused at the espionage game the tribe had employed. They barely ventured out, and yet they knew where Alexia had last been seen. “She’ll be too far away now,” Ryker added.

  “Nonsense. That’s why we’ve developed jets.”

  “What?”

  “Jets.”

  “How can you-” Ryker stopped, not wanting to ask any more questions. So, they were prepared for a battle, but they weren’t prepared for a war.

  “War is the last thing on our minds, Ryker,” Leopold said, as if knowing what he had thought about all along. “You think we’re ready to face nearly a million of his men? We’re werebeings, but they have werebeings as well. We do this the old-school way, by espionage.”

  Ryker stared at him, trying to imagine how they were doing it. “If you’ve been doing this for so long-”

  “Why are we still here?” Leopold interrupted him. “Well, young man. These things take time. And what better timing than your arrival?”

  “You had no idea I was still alive.”

  “I had hoped you were, but of course, we didn’t just bank on that. There are two escape plans for this endeavor, and all endeavors hope to have zero casualties on our civilians.”

  “This place could collapse anytime, if they ever find out.”

  “And they haven’t found out yet,” Leopold said. “We’re a careful community because one false move could mean our death.”

  “But you took me in. They’ll try to find my body-”

  “Not just yet. You’re buried underneath a mountain, and they have better things to do since the week you’ve been gone. I’m not saying they won’t – they will – although not just yet. There are things astir in the capital, Ryker; one of the highest members of the cabinet has plotted against his own president.”

  “And you know of this because?” Ryker questioned. “You’ve got a mole inside?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “This might hurt Alexia…”

  “We’ll be very careful. That’s why you’re joining us daily, hourly if possible. None of us have been in the capital for many years, and you’re the only one who’s been inside the current White House.”

  “Security is tough,” Ryker told him. “The weresoldiers are tougher.”

  “How mutated are they?”

  “Far mutated,” Ryker said. “They shift faster, with lesser pain.”

  “And they developed this through?”

  “The children they experiment on. These children aren’t werebeings, but from what I understand, their blood’s properties complement an existing werebeing’s. It’s like a steroid of sorts.” Leopold was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “It’s best we safe keep them as well –werebeing or human.”

  “If there are any left. And if there are a lot of them left, how will you take them out? The place from the outside must be a fortress.”

  “But it’s not much of a fortress on the inside, now is it? How did you escape, if it was?”

  Ryker frowned. “There was an accomplice.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Who would defy Caledon if they gained his favor in the first place?”

  “Someone will always defy a tyrant. Caledon defied a democrat. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in politics, it’s that no one stays on top forever, even if you have the best of intentions.”

  “Like what happened to my great-grandfather and grandfather,” Ryker said in a quiet voice. It sounded strange, but it was a step to acknowledging his lineage.

  “Exactly.”

  “The moment Caledon knows who I am, I think our family tree will end with me,” Ryker suddenly said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

  “I’ll make sure that won’t happen.”

  “You don’t even know me yet,” Ryker protested.

  “Why? Do you think you know me? Sizing me up the moment you found out I led this tribe for a couple of years?” He saw the look on the young man’s face. “Yes, you don’t. We base our initial trust on our initial judgement. From the looks of it, you still don’t fully trust me, and I won’t beg for you to. I’d rather show you why you should trust me.”

  Ryker closed his eyes. Every second that ticked by was a moment with Alexia lost. What if Alexia no longer wanted to be found in the first place? Or what if they had buried her in some vast and deep complex? He didn’t want another bout of casualties. “If my grandfather had faith in you, then it’s only right I should, too.”

  Leopold smiled. “I’m honored.”

  *

  He was smiling at her, a smile that she wanted to keep seeing until she died. There was something reassuring about it, and she could feel the warmth that came from within him.

  “I have a lot to show you. I’d like to take you to cities and take you to restaurants that serve food from all over the world, and then we could go to public libraries and borrow books, and then we could climb up mountains and look at the view without being afraid anymore,” he told her.

  “Will that really happen?”

  “If you’d let it, if you’d let us,” he assured her.

  “You love me that much?” she found herself asking him, knowing she was red in the face.

  He smiled at her. “Take my hand, Alexia.”

  She nodded and reached out for his hand, but as soon as she did, his face began to disappear. The moment she blinked, she saw she was in another room, in another time and place.

  “You’re not taking away my son,” the woman vehemently insisted. “You’re not taking him!”

  Her face was tear-streaked, and so was the little boy’s in her arms. The little boy was shaking, out of fear and confusion, and his mother held onto him, tighter than ever, as she knelt on the floor while he stood, facing a much older man with a most dangerous face.

  “We must. He is an aberration,” he began.

  “He is our son!” she reasoned, her embrace tighter this time. “Why are you doing this?”

  Her “why” sent painful stabs into her heart; she had never seen that beautiful woman cry before, not until now. She was standing in the corner, unable to move at first, not understanding why this was happening. Why was the man angry at the little boy? What was aberration? She gingerly took a step forward, reaching out to the little boy, and then the scene dissolved into a scary place.

  Machine were loud, and they hissed and beeped and pumped things into her. At first, she couldn’t move. She was trapped behind wires, and there were people surrounding her as she was kept behind glass. She began to cry, realizing she was a little girl trapped in an aquarium.

  She banged her hands on the glass, to no avail. “Mommy!” she screamed. The woman never came for her; instead, from across the glass, she could see a little boy, his hands tied up. He was being forced to do something, something that he didn’t want to do. When the little boy looked up at her, she could see bloody tears cascading down his face.

  Beside him was a young man, his face filled with cuts, and he was bleeding heavily from a temple wound. He called out for her before he crumpled into the ground, a mass of bear fur replacing his body; blood pooled underneath it.

  Alexia screamed.

  “Shh.... you’re alright, you’re safe,” a soothing voice told her. She could feel her eyes slowly opening, slowly for they felt heavy; and when she opened them, the lights hurt her at once. She closed her eyes once more, feeling tears roll down the sides of her face.

  “How’s her EEG?” another voice asked.

  “It showed a slight seizure,” another said.

  “Will someone clean up her nosebleed?” a man requested.

  Her eyes foc
used on the dimming lights above her. She tried to move, but she realized she was strapped down, heavily. “Where am I-” She stopped, realizing her throat hurt more than it should. It felt raw and dry, as if she hadn’t had water in days and had screamed for hours on end. Had she screamed while she was knocked out?

  “You’re in the hospital,” a woman in white said. “You needed some more tests. Remember what we told you earlier? We need to see if you can help these people who need your blood.” The nurse felt bad about lying; it was a white lie of sorts, after all. There were talks that they wanted to make her unsterile, just to see if her offspring could produce a higher level of werebeing genes. Faster, stronger, and smarter weresoldiers were Sector 13’s aim now.

  She nodded, trying to come to terms with the fact that she’d been tested once more. It was with her consent, right? There was no need to sugar coat the pain of the tests. She could feel the pain. From the corner of her eye, she saw four bags of blood being carefully placed inside a cooler. The cooler was locked with a code.

  “We’re wheeling you back to your bedroom now for some rest, okay?” the nurse told her.

  Alexia nodded, albeit groggily. The last few days had been a blur to her, and she’d slept for hours on end after every test. Sometimes, her meals had to be intravenous since she was too weak to eat by herself. She was hoisted onto a wheelchair, her head lolling like a doll’s, unable to keep it steady as she was brought back to her room.

  After the orderlies placed her on the bed, Alexia stared at the floor, trying to make sense of what was happening to her. Everything Dr. Wallace had said had been a lie. She had seen other children in the area; all were younger than she was, and they had looked frightened. Had she been like that before? She was glad she couldn’t remember her past; her memories were only up until two weeks ago, but she dreamed constantly and vividly, often forgetting the faces she had seen in her sleep.

  Her room was a small one, with a tiny window that showed that she was surrounded by thousands of trees. It was the only good thing about the place. She had been told she would need to stay here indefinitely, that there was an epidemic that needed to be fixed among the werebeings.