Enmity

by E. J. Andrews

  What the hell is he doing here? He doesn’t look like a keeper.

  Before I can ask one of the many questions flooding through my head, the stranger lifts his feet off my bed, drops the book onto the floor next to him and raises his glasses up to sit atop his head. ‘How are you feeling? Fuzzy? Any pain?’

  I am very fuzzy, and my neck hurts as though I have slept on a rock rather than a pillow, but I can’t help wondering why he is asking.

  ‘Are you a doctor?’

  The stranger just keeps looking at me, then gives the smallest of shrugs.

  ‘Something like that,’ he responds.

  I continue to watch him, curious about his motives.

  ‘I’m Josh.’ He finally relinquishes his name and then holds his hand out to me. I try not to look too disheartened as I shake it.

  ‘Nate,’ I reply, which makes Josh smile.

  ‘I know,’ he says matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve read your file.’ For some reason I am instantly panicked.

  ‘My file?’ I say. How could they have a whole file on me?

  ‘Yeah, Darria stole everyone’s medical records, criminal files, stuff like that.’

  Why does this surprise me? He went to the extent of killing my family and kidnapping all of us; of course he was going to do some research first.

  Josh stands and then picks up a folder off a small bedside table. He pushes his glasses back onto his face, then starts to write things that I cannot see and should not care about, but I care very much about what he is writing.

  Then Josh drops the folder and takes off his glasses; somehow he seems younger without them, almost free without them.

  ‘Where are you from?’ I ask, just because I don’t want to sit in this silence anymore, and because I am slightly curious.

  Josh’s face is heavy and light at the same time; it seems he wears this mask often.

  ‘A long time ago it was called Great Britten, but now—’ he pauses, looking far off, ‘—it isn’t called anything.’ Josh speaks as though he is talking to himself, or simply to the world around him.

  I start to think maybe there is more to this Josh guy than I first thought, and I feel horrible for it.

  ‘What brings you here?’

  I know I’m prying, but I must admit I don’t like this guy knowing so much about me when I know nothing of him.

  Josh stands and walks over to a filing cabinet that sits against the blank wall across from me.

  ‘My entire family was killed. There is nothing left there for me now.’ He comes back to me and inspects the top of my forehead. I feel a stinging there; I must have been wounded.

  ‘Lucky you already had short hair or I would have had to cut a patch out.’

  He’s changing the subject, which I wish he wouldn’t.

  ‘Do you know what happened to my family?’ I ask.

  Josh finally looks at me for a short moment, raises his eyebrows, looks as though he is about to say something, and then leaves the room, saying nothing.

  Maybe I’m not the only one with family issues.

  Hermia

  My head is still a mess of words and sounds and feelings. The feelings are the worst.

  Law is now escorting me to meet with Darria. I don’t know why it makes me feel so horribly angry that Law, who is obviously rather up there in ranks around here, is the one to bring me to meet with Darria.

  I am trying to be cautious, trying not to even think about the fact that mere minutes ago I was kissing Law’s son.

  Chase. Chase. Chase. Chase.

  STOP.

  I can’t think about him, I can’t think about the blood coursing through my veins hotter than liquid fire, as though it is screaming for him.

  No, I can’t think about that now, if ever. Yes, let’s choose never.

  So I do now what I always do in these situations. I get angry.

  Ice-cold rage begins to replace the hot burn that Chase left behind. My strides grow longer and deeper, but Law doesn’t seem fazed by my sudden energy.

  I don’t even wait for Law to open the door for me; I push forward, into the unknown realm of Darria.

  I walk into the room and am instantly brought to a halt. Not by the man behind me, but the man in front of me.

  Darria sits behind a desk, scattered with papers. His hair is a mess, and he has dark circles around his eyes.

  Darria looks up briefly and then continues writing on the scattered papers for a few more moments, long enough for the last of my anger to dwindle out of me.

  All at once, Darria drops his pen, wipes his open palms over his face and stands. He takes a deep sigh and then looks straight at me, deep and serious.

  We are at a silent stand-off, both knowing there are things to say, but not wanting to be the one to speak. It is one of the ways that we are so alike.

  ‘Why?’ I ask without thinking it through.

  I have wanted to know since the second I was brought here, the second that I saw it was him. But I don’t know if I want to hear the answer now.

  ‘The war—’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  Again, we cannot speak because we both are afraid of what those words will do to the other.

  ‘Is this about her?’

  Darria’s eyes seem to gloss over into a blank stare. He only looks this way when he is thinking of something that angers him, and right now that thing is my mother.

  ‘This is bigger than just your mother now, Mia,’ he says. I am about to fight this, to scream at him, because he knows how much I hate that nickname, but the look in his eyes stops me. ‘It is about you as well.’ I feel my heart pump a little heavier for a long few moments.

  Darria comes forward from behind the desk; he leans against it, facing me.

  ‘I knew this was coming, I knew we’d have to speak sooner or later.’

  I still cannot speak; of course he knew we’d have to discuss the fact that he kidnapped me.

  ‘Who, exactly, are we supposed to be fighting?’

  Darria doesn’t look as though he is about to fess up, though I didn’t expect him to. I only expected to see that flicker in his eye that tells me I’m getting close to something that scares him.

  I scoff. ‘Well, if you’d had all this ten years ago—’ My voice is raspy, filled with resentment. I don’t even know if Law is still behind me but I sweep my arm around to emphasise the manpower Darria now has. ‘—I wouldn’t have even had a choice, would I? It would have been your way or no way at all.’

  Darria still looks unaffected, but that just makes it easier for me to keep on going.

  ‘Ten years,’ I start, thinking over the time. ‘Ten years. And nothing. Not a phone call, not a hey, how’s it going—’

  ‘I thought you were better off with her—’

  ‘Bullshit!’ I now scream.

  Everything out of his mouth feels like a lie. Like it always was. I try and calm myself as I continue.

  ‘She would ask about you,’ I say. ‘When she was talking. You know how little she talks, but she would always ask about you.’ I feel like he has kicked me, and now I am giving him a gift. The gift of knowing my mother still thinks of him, even after he left us to rot. After he left me deal with the ever inflicting misery which is my mother.

  Now Darria looks a little less hard, a little less like Darria the leader, and a little more like Darren, the man I once trusted.

  ‘I’m sorry I made you choose, I’m sorry I never came to see you, and I’m sorry . . .’ he pauses, a far-off look in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry I helped make her this way.’

  I want to scream and yell and tell him it is all completely his fault, and that the guilt he feels is nothing compared to what he deserves to feel. But I don’t, because I know it isn’t him I want to scream those things at.

  ‘You know that’s not true,’ I start. ‘You know there’s no one to blame but my father.’

  Now Darria’s eyes are alive. Angry, bulging, warped and alive.

  ‘You know—’


  ‘I know enough,’ I admit, though I don’t. I don’t even know his name.

  ‘Mia, you didn’t see what she was like with him—you would hate him like I do too.’

  ‘I think I already do.’

  Darria comes forward a few more feet and stands before me. I notice that we both have the same crook to our noses, the same deeply set cheeks. I hate these features in myself, because my mother shares them too.

  ‘He is who we are fighting,’ Darria says, though the words feel as heavy as the weight of the ocean, pressing down and lifting the air from my lungs.

  ‘Who—’ I barely breath the word.

  Darria stands and comes around from his desk, standing inches from me.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who he is, he’s no one.’ He says the words like it is an insult to the air it takes to speak them.

  What my father has done to my family makes him someone, it makes him a very important someone indeed.

  I look up and see a man deranged by an anger that has been fuelled by my parents, and anger I now feel starting to grasp onto me as well.

  I now see my uncle.

  I feel myself sigh as I push the anger back. There’s one thing I still understand about Darria, if he doesn’t want to tell you something, he won’t.

  ‘Why the others? Why this whole stupid plan with the kids?’

  Darria looks worried, he lowers his head and places his hands together in front of him.

  ‘They all possess something I need. Winter’s father is the president. Marina’s father is extremely wealthy and has a staggering amount of influence,’ —side thought, I knew she was a liar—‘Kane’s father is still undecided what side he is taking.’ Darria finally looks at me and his expression is guarded. I want to know more. Why is it important for him to choose a side? ‘Lola’s parents are currently fighting with my parents so—’

  ‘John, what about John?’ I interrupt. Darria looks at me, steady. Then he sighs.

  ‘John was working for The Cain. For Blake and Caden.’

  I feel my face scrunch in dismay.

  ‘No—’

  ‘Yes.’ Darria fires back. ‘He came to me saying that he was sick of the brutality and Caden’s ideas for the new world, though he wouldn’t speak of what those ideas were.’ Darria leans back against the top of his desk, folding his arms on his chest. ‘He would press for information that I would say is classified.’ I watch him and I don’t think he is lying. He always was a terrible liar when I was young. ‘I’m sorry you had to see his death. I feel some of your companions are a little soft—’

  ‘And what’s so wrong with being soft when there is no need to be stone?’ I am upset and he can tell. Darria raises his head back, trying to seem larger than he is, and more powerful than I know he is. I will prove to every single person in this building exactly what he is.

  Nate

  All I want to do is get back to my room, to be somewhere familiar and normal in this crazy foreign place.

  I open the door to find a set of eyes eagerly watching me as I step inside the room.

  Marina stands as soon as my feet have crossed the threshold; she looks beyond tense, which in turn makes me tense.

  We stand unspeaking, and I wonder what she is thinking. I know that I am thinking how hard it is not to just walk up and kiss her, to know that I have this one sure thing in my arms, and that it is mine. But I hold back.

  ‘I have a concussion,’ Marina says. ‘They said I shouldn’t sleep, so I came here.’

  My pulse quickens; she came here to not sleep?

  ‘I thought if you weren’t here I would just sit and worry until you showed up, and now you have,’ she says. ‘And you’re okay, so I should go.’

  Marina moves over to grab her jacket off the edge of the bed, next to where she was seated a few minutes ago, and then she goes to step out of the door, but I am blocking her way.

  I can’t help but stare at her. Have I mentioned lately that she is beautiful? But you can’t just say that, you can’t just tell the girl you think you might love that she’s beautiful, especially not when we have both been so badly beaten. Wait, love? What?

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask her, trying to chase the whole love thought from my head.

  The only mark on her is a large, purpling bruise that takes up most of the left side of her forehead.

  Marina suppresses a smile, which makes my heart lighten its tight grasp, just a little.

  ‘I’m fine. How are you?’ She says it as though she is asking if I’ve had a busy week.

  I manage a small laugh and then walk forward, closing the short gap between us. I wrap Marina in my arms and just stand there and feel the pressure of her body against mine. I never realised how much I have missed this feeling until the split second I get to feel it again.

  Her lips find mine, or mine find hers. Either way we are kissing.

  Now I have kissed girls before, don’t get me wrong. But kissing Marina is like seeing a perfect sunset, and feeling like nothing in the world could be wrong. The way it fills you with such a sense of completeness. Like that sun has the potential to obliterate you, we all know that pretty well by now, yet when you’re looking at that setting sun all you can see is the beauty of it. You can’t see the possibility of a tragic, horrible end because that moment is all you can think of.

  I decide in that moment to stop thinking, to stop worrying about what comes next and just enjoy my sunset while it lasts.

  Hermia

  I leave Darria’s office, or room, or whatever he calls it, with a newfound rage.

  I exit the elevator and the keeper inside escorting me back stays put.

  As soon as I am out of the elevator I see Chase leaning against my door. I look around and see that everyone is in bed, he still shouldn’t be here and besides, I don’t particularly want to have to explain this to him, to explain why it is that Darria asked to see me the way he did. I could lie, but then what will the lie do for either of us?

  Chase smiles as soon as he sees me, like the mere sight of me makes him happy. I hate that. I don’t want the pressure of being responsible for someone else’s happiness.

  Chase opens his mouth to speak but I beat him to it.

  ‘Darria is my uncle. That’s why I knew he was going to want to speak with me and that’s why I’m here.’

  I stand before Chase and wait. I left my door open when I was called away and I guess no one else has thought to close it. Especially not Chase, who now stands right in the doorway.

  Chase rests his arm high above his head against the doorframe and regards me silently.

  ‘I was wondering when you were going to tell me.’ It is hard to hide my shock.

  ‘You knew?’

  Chase almost scoffs as he pushes away from the door and starts walking over towards the elevator.

  ‘Well, I knew he was some relation to you. I thought he was your dad for a moment, after you chose that crossbow.’ He pauses for a second as I follow his steady stride. I wonder what he would think if he knew who my real dad is. I’m still having a hard time processing it myself. ‘Then I thought maybe not.’

  Chase doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t press it. He keeps walking and I realise I really don’t give a crap if he thought Darria was my father or not. I mean, he practically was for the first seven years of my life, but the less people who know that, the better.

  ‘You want to tell me where we’re going?’

  Chase just smiles his sweet smile; I hate that smile, because it seems the most fake.

  ‘I thought since you’ve finally decided to come clean, I’d introduce you to everyone.’

  My eyes get a little wider and my breath catches a little tighter. Introduce me? To everyone? Who the hell is everyone?

  Curiosity bites at me, but I bite it back. I would rather hold my tongue than have Chase know how much I want to know, that his ploy—whatever that may be—is working even slightly.

  As we enter the elevator I watch Chase slide his hand along t
he right-hand wall. I have noticed other keepers doing this as we enter, but I still don’t understand what it means.

  Chase taps his left hand twice over the screen that shows what level we are on; I have seen the other keepers do that too.

  The doors close and then the number twenty-two appears on the screen. By the look on Chase’s face, I can tell mine holds a lot of curiosity now.

  Chase smiles simply.

  ‘It reads our fingerprints here.’ He points to where he slid his hand across the wall. ‘Then there are different codes that mean different levels and sectors of levels. Right now we’re going to level two, sector two.’

  This information is staggering; I can’t help but wonder how he trusts me enough to divulge it.

  ‘What’s in sector two?’ I ask.

  Chase considers me a moment, as though he is weighing up which words to use before he speaks.

  ‘Home,’ Chase replies.

  And I am instantly caught in his game of curiosity again.

  There are people everywhere, all dressed in the same disturbing pale grey. I am afraid I will attract attention in my jeans and black T-shirt.

  Chase takes my hand and hastily pulls me through the sprawling crowd. He takes my hand so easily and so naturally it takes me a moment to realise it. So far no one has noticed us, but I don’t want to push that fact by pulling my hand from Chase’s now.

  The room is spacious, though it doesn’t feel like it with all these people wandering around. It seems as though this place is centred around something, as everyone seems to be facing away from us. I notice now that the walls are also grey; everything here is just another colour duller than the last.

  We get to a long hallway and Chase just keeps on walking, until he gets to a door reading twenty-six. He enters without hesitation.

  Room twenty-six is a bedroom, as I expected, but it is nothing like I imagined a bedroom here to be. Of course the walls are grey, but with a white trim that somehow makes the place homelike. There is a bed pushed up against the far wall and it has a blue patchwork quilt over it, but the most amazing thing is that far wall. It is covered in old-fashioned photographs—small square colour prints with white borders. I only see the wall at a glance, but I can see some of the pictures—different landscapes, different abstract images of random things, and different people. The one picture that stands out, even though I have to squint slightly to make it out, is one of Chase, his brother, Rence, and their father, Law. They are all smiling, sun beating on their faces and a squint in their brown and grey eyes. It is the most genuine thing I have ever seen from any of them. This photograph is pure, untainted by the brutality of this place, by the lives they now lead. It makes me want a picture like that, something to prove that I might actually have been genuinely peaceful with the world at least once in my life, even if only for a moment.