Enmity

by E. J. Andrews

  ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ I say to Chase.

  Chase shrugs and takes my hand as he drags me over to the elevator.

  ‘Nothing here does.’

  Nate

  I am wrenched from a dream by a banging on my door; it is a hasty, panicked knocking. I jump awake, startling Marina beside me. I slide out of bed and rush to the door to find a keeper, no, Law, standing at my door.

  His eyes move over the length of my body, then one of his brows rises. This whole greeting would have been rather entertaining had it been almost anyone but Law.

  ‘Get dressed and meet me at the elevator in five,’ he says with his usual authority, then, seeing Marina in my bed, back out to the world, he cracks a small smile.

  Law turns and leaves and I start working on getting dressed.

  The ride in the elevator is tense; Law isn’t exactly the warmest person. And as I’ve now seen, neither are his sons.

  Law turns to me. ‘You did very well against Rence yesterday.’ Then he turns away as though he had never uttered the words. I want to thank him for saying it, but I am too shocked.

  We arrive and I am led forward to a room resembling an office.

  Darria sits behind an immaculate desk; it is all very prim and proper, with only a single folder and a computer in front of him.

  ‘Nathaniel, come in, sit down.’ He speaks as though I am an employee.

  ‘I’ll stand,’ I answer, defiant.

  Darria looks over at me, like he is eyeing me up. Then he shrugs.

  ‘Fine by me.’ Then he stands and comes over to sit on the front corner of the desk.

  ‘I’ve brought you here because I think it’s time I explained myself.’ Finally.

  ‘I have been keeping an eye on you for quite some time, letting things play out, if you will.’ I now wish I’d taken that seat—this feels like it’s going to be a lengthy story. ‘Your aunt and uncle did a marvellous job of raising you—’

  ‘What the fuck?’

  Darria holds up a hand. ‘I’m getting there.’

  ‘Get there faster, what the fuck?’

  Darria lets out a long breath and then points to the chair again. He returns to his own chair behind the desk as I take the seat and wait for him to explain.

  ‘Your father is a man named Blake—I used to know him back when I was younger, around your age.’ I don’t know if I believe this yet.

  ‘As I have said, we are fighting two men named Blake and Caden. Blake is your biological father.’

  No. This isn’t real. He’s lying so that I will comply with him and his band of grey-clothed freaks.

  ‘What happened to my mother, then?’ My voice is far smaller than I meant it to be.

  Darria looks at me as though this is the hardest thing he has ever had to say. I know what he is going to say before he even speaks a word.

  ‘There were, complications with your birth. I tried everything I could to save her—’

  ‘Were you her doctor or something?’

  Darria looks at me with pity. I can’t believe I’m even considering that this is the truth.

  ‘Or something,’ is all he answers, then he continues after a beat. ‘I helped your aunt take you away from Blake. His brother Caden had these crazy, misguided ideas about creating a new, better generation. One that people would fear and bow down to, obey.’ He shakes his head. ‘I helped your aunt take you from the hospital, away from Blake and Caden and all their ideals.’

  I don’t want to believe this, but then memories start flooding back to me. Half-conversations I heard between my parents. Arguments about something. About me? ‘We don’t know what he could become,’ my mother once said. ‘We don’t know the extent of what he did.’

  ‘When Blake found out where you were, he killed your aunt and uncle and their daughter—I think you called her Olivia?’ I nod. I did. I did call her Olivia.

  ‘Law had a team assembled and they took out a few of Blake and Caden’s men, though Blake and a couple of the others got away. I had no idea what to do; it wasn’t safe for you out there. So I left you a note, giving you time to say goodbye to your family, and hoping that it would lead you here. And, well, here you are. Because I need you to help me.’ Darria sounds almost pleading. ‘You are the one person he might not be able to fight back against.’

  Why can’t the bad guy just stay the same guy?

  So Darria has always been trying to help me, ever since my birth, maybe even before that?

  ‘Will you help me with this?’ Darria asks.

  I stand and look down at this little man named Darria. He looks so very easy to break. He looks like he will need all the help he can get.

  ‘I’m still undecided.’

  Darria lowers his head but manages to nod. ‘Why did you kill John?’ Darria seems surprised.

  ‘John was an informer; he was working for Blake and Caden and I had gained all the information I needed from him.’

  It doesn’t explain why he would kill John in front of us, but it does explain why he would kill him.

  ‘So you just want me to kill Blake?’

  Darria nods as though it is just that simple.

  ‘I’ll play then.’

  A smile spreads across Darria’s face. ‘But first you have to tell me everything.’ The smile is gone in an instant.

  ‘Everything would not be to your advantage.’

  I stand and then shrug. ‘You want me to kill someone; you have to make it worth my time and guilt.’

  I leave Darria sitting behind his desk, mouth agape.

  Hermia

  The days are now marked down at thirteen and I’m starting to forget what real sunlight feels like; the light and the air in the meadow room are different, not quite the same, but somehow better.

  We have to meet in the training room in an hour, but I am biding my time. I will leave it till the last second to leave.

  I’m in the meadow room now, only I asked Darria to grant me permission to change it to a different landscape. He reluctantly agreed. Guilt-tripping always was my forte.

  So I sit with my legs dangling over a cliff that overlooks a large desert, as the sun beats against my skin. It doesn’t feel as warm or as filled with vitamin D as the real sun, but it is still nice to at least feel outside. I slide my sunglasses around on my nose to make them more settled, then look out to the fake world around me.

  My minds keeps going over and over the conversation Chase and I heard between Darria and President Collins. They’re only young.

  I hear footsteps approaching, and I turn my head to see Nate.

  ‘Wow,’ he says as he takes a spot next to me. ‘How’d you manage this?’

  No use in lying now.

  ‘Darria is my uncle.’

  The simplicity in my voice astounds even me. It seems I am almost as good at telling the truth as I am at lying. ‘Wow,’ Nate says again. ‘Really? Wow.’

  ‘Stop saying wow,’ I snap.

  Nate makes a face and shuts his mouth. For all of twenty seconds.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’ He states the obvious.

  ‘And that’s why you’re here.’ I look out into the vast open space before us, and wonder why I am the one who Nate needs to speak with. I’m pretty sure his girlfriend is a better listener than me.

  ‘Darria told me that my father is one of the leaders of our opposition.’

  I think about this for a moment.

  ‘Isn’t your father dead?’

  Nate looks at me with hard eyes and a creased brow. Not my moment of greatest empathy.

  ‘Apparently he wasn’t my biological father.’

  Biological is a word I despise and I hate that sad, empty look on Nate’s face because of it. And I hate the fact that I hate it.

  ‘You said one of the leaders?’ I press.

  Nate looks up, a little brighter.

  ‘Yeah, the other guy’s name is Caden.’ I feel a shiver travel the length of my body. ‘And my real father’s name is Blake.’ I a
m instantly angry.

  ‘That guy isn’t your father, Nate.’ He looks at me questioning for a moment before I continue. ‘Your father is the man who raised you. Your biological father is basically just a guy who had sex with your mother and gave you half your genes.’ To my surprise, Nate laughs.

  ‘So you’re saying this Blake guy is basically a sperm donor?’

  ‘Basically,’ I shrug.

  ‘Thanks, I guess.’

  He seems just as confused as before, but not as drained.

  ‘Do you think they’re really as bad as Darria makes them out to be?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answer honestly. Then I turn and see Nate looking at me as though I have said something very strange. ‘I don’t think Darria would go through all of this unless it was something particularly troubling.’

  Nate starts nodding and then looks off into the canyon. I want to tell him about what I heard between Darria and Collins, but I can’t. There is no useful reason to share this information with Nate. He now moves around to come and sit next to me, though he keeps his legs up with his thighs near to his chest.

  Nate clears his throat and says, ‘Even though I think this place is total bullshit, it does have some pretty cool scenery.’

  I choke back a laugh—he’s right. I honestly think the meadow room is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. I just needed something less beautiful today.

  ‘What is it you think we’re doing today?’ Nate breaks the silence again. I miss it for a second, and then respond. ‘Whatever it is, I’m betting it’s not fun.’

  Around an hour after I leave the canyon room, we are all brought into the training room again and told to stand behind the benches. Our weapons are there waiting for us.

  I look down at my crossbow and smile at it. I do love the crossbow, for one simple reason. It’s completely and utterly badass.

  I mean, who the hell just whips out a crossbow and starts firing away? Me. That’s who. And no one would forget that all too easily.

  Nate stands next to me and looks down at his knife with a little less enthusiasm.

  Law and Rence stand across from us, just off the large blue mat that takes up the centre of the room. It makes the room look even more like a gymnasium. That and the high windows with bars across them. I’m not sure if that is natural light coming through them or not. Suppose it doesn’t matter either way, not like I could get high enough to look through them.

  ‘These are the weapons you chose—are they still the weapons you wish to keep?’

  Without even thinking—which again, isn’t much a forte of mine—I pick up my crossbow with my left hand and fire off a shot into one of the many targets off to our left. I would like to state, for the record, that I am right-handed. Though with weapons I am sometimes ambidextrous.

  Some of the group shuffle uncomfortably, and I can sense their fear; I don’t even have to look to know my arrow has hit the bull’s eye.

  ‘I’m good with mine,’ I say as I place the crossbow back down onto my bench.

  Nate looks straight ahead but I can see his lips tighten as he tries not to do that big goofy smile he is getting more and more used to wearing.

  Rence rolls his eyes but Law simply turns the sides of his mouth down and shrugs.

  ‘Well—’ Law says, and then walks out towards us, looking over each of our weapons. ‘I would recommend that if you do wish to change, you head through the door on your right, and choose more wisely.’

  We all look over to the dark red door—blood red, I’d call it—set deep into the fake wood of the walls.

  I watch Nate fight with himself; he cannot fathom that this decision might mean his life. If he did, the choice would be simple.

  ‘Just go get a gun,’ I whisper over to him. Nate looks at me as though he didn’t realise he was so obviously distressed.

  He glances around and then walks straight up to me, speaking quickly and quietly. ‘But what if they’re going to teach us about them? I don’t want to choose something I already know how to use.’

  He looks down at my crossbow. He is either trying to ask if it is the only thing I know how to use, or warning me that I am missing an opportunity to learn something new.

  I look around; everyone else has disappeared except for Georgie. She just sits with her orb in front of her as its colours keep slowly fading from one to the next.

  ‘I’m going to stick with Georgie on this one,’ I answer.

  Nate looks at me curiously and then heads towards the blood-red door to choose a new weapon.

  I make my way over to Georgie.

  ‘Still keen on the orb, I see,’ I say as I stand in between Georgie and Robert’s empty bench.

  Georgie smiles over at me with her little smile that is basically all cheeks.

  ‘I still like it,’ she shrugs. ‘I like the fact that a weapon can illustrate how powerful feelings are.’

  Georgie looks at me as though she knows something I don’t. Then she smiles again.

  I stand up a little straighter. ‘Just don’t be afraid to use it this time.’ Georgie nods and tries to look serious.

  I walk back to my bench, hoping I never have to see the full force of Georgie’s feelings.

  Nate

  Back again. Looking at weapons. Trying to decide what I want to kill people with. This is a seriously messed-up situation.

  I’m looking at a black sniper rifle that seems sleek and as dangerous as Hermia on a bad day. I feel a hand in mine and look over to see Marina at my side.

  ‘Ninja star?’ She holds one up between her fingers. I smile at her and shake my head.

  ‘I’m a terrible thrower.’

  I look down to the knife in my hand. Why did I choose this in the first place, I wonder. I am a terrible thrower.

  I put the knife down and pick up the rifle.

  Marina looks worried instantly. I hate that look on her, but there is only one certain way to stay alive in this world we live in. And that is to kill or be killed.

  Hermia

  We all stand in front of our dismantled weapons. Taking weapons apart is such a lovely repetitive thing that it makes me happy to be back in the training room, back destroying things and using my hands to do it.

  I don’t know how many times I have had to replace the wire string on my bow back home. I wonder if my grandparents have kept it.

  We have been at this for almost two hours, taking apart each of our weapons, waiting until the last of us are done, then putting them all back together. I must say, everyone is getting faster and faster the more times we do it.

  Chase walks past my bench with a slow and steady stride, lingering to take a closer look at the knot on the right side of my crossbow.

  ‘You’ve tied this in a cross knot. It should really be more—’

  I look up at Chase and he stops talking as soon as he sees what this look is saying.

  He keeps moving down the line and I smile to myself as I continue repairing my weapon.

  ‘Does he seem strange to you?’ Nate asks, nodding towards Chase.

  I don’t know how to respond. I shouldn’t really jump to Chase’s defence; Nate could figure out that Chase is something more to me than just a keeper.

  I shrug. That will suffice. Words so often betray me.

  ‘Why?’ I ask a moment later. Damn curiosity.

  Nate looks down our row of benches as he watches Chase point out a flaw in Kane’s work.

  ‘It’s his eyes.’ Nate shakes his head and goes back to his gun.

  I look down to Chase again and wonder why I don’t understand what Nate is saying. There is nothing wrong with Chase’s eyes. They are in fact beautiful eyes that seem to breathe life into anyone looking into them.

  ‘They’re brown?’ I say in my most sarcastic of tones.

  Nate laughs as he carries on jamming pieces of his gun back together. Then he is finished and he rests his gun back down on his bench and turns his full attention towards me.

  ‘No, they’re more like
cat eyes.’

  I start tapping the string of my bow like a string on a guitar and keep watching Chase, who has now moved down to Georgie. Since Georgie has the orb, all she has to do is keep the colours changing at a certain pace. She is doing quite well, actually.

  Nate is right. Chase does have cat eyes. Not in shape or colour. But in the way they see things. They look almost bored at the things they see, but they are always seeing. It is as though he is always making mental notes, logging what he sees in his mind. I don’t know if I like that.

  ‘I like him, though,’ Nate says, snapping me out of my watching stare.

  I turn to Nate. ‘Really?’

  He nods earnestly as he picks up his gun again.

  ‘Yeah, he seems to actually care that we’re here.’

  I look back down to my bow, now sitting in perfect condition in front of me, my hands having finished my work without me being conscious of them doing so.

  I look back to Chase, as he wanders back down the line with his watching eyes. Always, watching.

  Nate

  I’m down to, if I push it, forty-eight seconds. To dismantle and reassemble my sniper rifle.

  Asking to take my gun back to my room with me seemed stupid and unlikely, but Chase approved it. Rence looked as though he thought I might go on a rampage. Would help if they gave me some bullets.

  I sit on the floor, pulling the gun apart and putting it back together again, over and over. Marina sits on my bed and watches me with little amusement.

  ‘Training finished hours ago,’ she sighs and throws herself onto her back, so she is lounging on my bed.

  ‘No rest for the wicked.’ I don’t notice until I’ve said it that I have said exactly the same thing my father used to.

  ‘You’re not exactly wicked.’

  Marina sits up, smiling, and then her smile is wiped from her face once she sees mine. She slides off the bed and takes the pieces of gun from my hands, placing them on the ground.

  I don’t notice until Marina takes my hands in hers that I am shaking so hard. My chest feels so heavy I begin to choke, to cough, and then the cough turns into almost a sob within me.