by M. A. Phipps
I consider her for a moment, all too aware that I have no other choice, except to tell them what they want to know. If I don’t, they’ll probably kill me. If I do, well, they may still kill me. But what alternative do I have? If I try to escape, all that’s left for me to go back to is the DSD, and like hell do I plan to go back there.
Besides, why would I have bothered coming here at all if my intentions weren’t to help PHOENIX in some way? Sure, I came here to find Ezra, but I should have known that wouldn’t be enough.
I weigh my options.
“My name is Wynter Reeves,” I finally answer, deciding my best bet is to go with the truth. “A couple of . . . I . . . I don’t know how long it’s been . . . .” I stammer.
The realization is somewhat horrifying, as if I’ve lost a chunk of my life that I’ll never get back. How much time has passed? It feels like years since I sat my exam, but realistically, it can’t have been more than a few months.
“Since what?” the woman asks.
I meet her expectant gaze and take a long deep breath, preparing myself for their inevitable reaction.
“Since I was taken by the DSD,” I murmur.
All of their eyes land on me at once.
“Come again?” the black-haired man splutters. The tone of his voice seems to mirror what the others are feeling.
“Jenner,” Ezra snaps.
The other man, Jenner, abruptly goes silent. Still, in spite of the hush, I can sense them all watching me. Waiting with bated breath for my story to continue.
I shake my head, suddenly feeling flustered. “I was sitting my work placement exam.” I hesitate, feeling uneasy. “By the time I got home, the Enforcers were already there.”
“What did they want with you?” Ezra asks.
“I . . . I didn’t finish the exam. I left in the middle.”
He looks away from me, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the woman glance up at him. She seems confused, as if something I’ve said simply doesn’t add up.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “The DSD doesn’t deal with minor crimes.”
“Is blowing off the exam even considered a punishable offense?” Jenner pipes in.
I watch as the three of them debate amongst themselves, trying to determine why the DSD would show an interest in me—in particular, why they would care if I finished my placement exam. They don’t seem to feel that the test matters, even though it’s the deciding factor in regards to our future. Well, it is for those of us still implanted within society. Although I suppose, after all of this, that future no longer includes me either.
After a long moment, I attempt to set the record straight.
“That’s not why I was taken,” I exclaim over the commotion.
The clamor ceases. All three sets of eyes stare back at me once again.
“Something happened,” I whisper, “. . . during the exam. Something having to do with this rare condition I have. I didn’t even know about it until someone at the DSD told me I have it. This guy named Richter. He’s a . . . a doctor, of sorts.”
My explanation feels clumsy and not like much of an explanation at all. However, what I’ve said seems to have clicked with the others because I notice a response in Ezra’s eyes. I see the same reaction in the woman.
They briefly exchange glances.
“Richter?” she asks me. “You’re sure?” There’s a frightened excitement in her voice while Ezra looks subdued. His face wears nothing more than a mask of stone.
I nod my head once.
“Did you catch his first name?” he asks me.
“No,” I mutter. “I wasn’t even told any of the other doctors’ last names.”
A tense silence fills the room, and I take advantage of the sudden hush to try to explain myself further. I grab the white coat off the table beside me.
“This belonged to him. To Dr. Richter. I took it right before I escaped.”
“You escaped?” Jenner gives me a strange look before releasing a strained laugh. “That’s impossible. No one escapes.”
An unsettled feeling weighs heavily in my stomach. I remember the circumstances surrounding that moment, and truth be told, I can’t help but agree with him.
“I think they let me,” I admit. “The DSD has reason to believe I can find something they’re looking for. They could’ve stopped me at any time, but they didn’t. All that security and they let me walk out the front door?” I shake my head. “Trust me, this isn’t the first time I’ve questioned it, which makes me think they had an ulterior motive. They probably figured if they let me go, I’d eventually lead them to what they want.”
The woman’s eyes widen as soon as she realizes what I’m saying. “Us,” she breathes.
“Is that why you cut out your tracking chip?” Ezra murmurs.
“I can’t go back there,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I can’t let them find me again.”
There's a hint of suspicion in his eyes, and I can’t ignore the feeling that he doesn’t believe me.
“So, why come to us? What about your family?”
A lump rises in my throat. If only I had family to go to. Someone who would protect me from everything that’s happened—or at least attempt to. Assuming protection from the State is even possible.
No, I don’t have anyone like that. I thought I did, but it turns out, that was all a lie.
“My mother was the one who gave me up to them in the first place,” I reply flatly. “Not like it matters. She wouldn’t have been able to protect me from them anyway.”
“Wait a minute,” Jenner interrupts. “Am I the only one who feels like I’m missing something here? How did you even find us?”
That seems to be the question on all of their minds. They stare at me, awaiting an explanation that I have no way to give them.
Images of The Vega flash through my thoughts. I know how I found them, but how do I even begin to explain that? I had never heard of my condition before—not until Dr. Richter brought it to my attention. Certainly, no one in PHOENIX would have heard of it either.
“That’s difficult to explain,” I mutter.
Ezra glares at me as he takes another aggressive step forward. “Try,” he growls.
I glare right back at him, annoyed with his persistence. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I did,” I snap. “It’s the sort of thing you have to see to believe.”
“Then show us,” he says.
“I can’t,” I breathe.
Once again, I find myself staring down the barrel of his gun. His expression is almost savage, and I can practically see the anger exploding within him. It’s like a fire behind his eyes, devouring everything in its path.
“Show us!” he shouts at me.
I don’t flinch. I simply look back at him, unfazed by his threat because I know he won’t use it. Not yet, at least. Not until they get answers.
The others, however, don’t seem to share that belief. The tension in the room reaches an all-time high, and everything around me becomes chaotic as they rush forward to stop him.
“Ezra!” the woman screams.
“Hey, man, put the gun away!” Jenner pleads.
They seem to think he’ll shoot me, but I know better, and I can tell that Ezra knows this too.
Our eyes lock for what feels like an unending length of time. All the while, he looks at me with an almost inhuman intensity that seems to burn right through my soul. I can see the question in his gaze—the uncertainty controlling the weapon in his hand. Regardless of the unknown thoughts circulating his brain, after a moment, he harnesses his gun.
“She doesn’t leave this room,” he hisses. With one last glance in my direction, he turns and storms out the door.
The woman looks at Jenner, who lets out a disheartening sigh.
“I’ll go talk him down,” he groans.
The woman nods, and we both watch as he leaves the room. Within a matter of seconds, we’re alone once again.
“I’m so
rry about Ezra,” she mumbles, sounding somewhat embarrassed. “He has a lot on his mind.”
I don’t answer her, unsure what she expects me to say. An awkward hush descends between us, and I can’t help but notice that she seems to be on edge. It’s as if she wants to ask me something, but for whatever reason, her hesitation is holding her back.
“The doctor you mentioned,” she finally whispers. “What did you think of him? Was he a good man?”
A good man? I wonder.
I think of Dr. Richter, and good seems like the last word I would ever use to describe him.
“No,” I answer. “But then again, I was nothing more than a science project to him.”
Her face drops, and I can't help but feel guilty because I know her reaction is a direct result of what I’ve said. But why? What does she have to do with Dr. Richter?
She smiles at me, but something about her expression is forlorn, disappointed even. An uncomfortable silence floods the limited space around us. Our eyes meet, but when I don’t say anything more, she takes that as her cue to leave.
I watch her every movement as she approaches the door, her long brown hair glistening in the harsh lighting of the tiny room.
I don’t know what it is, but something stirring inside of me compels me to speak. “You’re not how I thought you’d be.”
She turns around to look at me, and I waver, scrambling to arrange my muddled thoughts.
The words spill from my lips in a rush. “PHOENIX,” I murmur. “You’re nothing like what the State portrays you as.”
She smiles at me again. However, this time her expression is coy, almost as if she knows something the rest of the world doesn’t.
“That’s because we’re the good guys,” she says.
BLOOD SPLATTERS ACROSS THE FLOOR, staining the white carpet. I can hear his grunts of pain and cries of protest. No one listens. No one tries to help.
He collapses to his knees in front of me, more blood dribbling from between his cracked lips. I stumble back, my mouth hanging wide in horror.
Why is this happening? Why is no one trying to stop this?
My mother grabs my arm and roughly pulls me away from him. Mother’s here now. Surely, she’ll try to help him.
“Take her out of here. She doesn’t need to see this.”
Suddenly, another pair of hands wrap around my body—lifting me off the floor and carrying me away from him. I reach out, screaming for him not to leave me.
Begging them not to take him away.
My father looks up, tears streaming down his bloodstained cheeks. In a single ragged breath, I hear the last words he would ever say to me.
“I’m sorry, Wynter.”
“No!” I scream.
I fight against the hands that hold me, but I’m not strong enough. His voice replays through my thoughts, haunting me with my own helplessness.
“I’m sorry, Wynter.”
Static covers everything, and the vision changes. I find myself once again in that familiar scene of destruction. Back in the barren wasteland that will eventually come to be the end of all life as we know it.
But I’m not alone. Ezra’s here. He stares back at me, the gun hanging at his side as tears rush down his cheeks. I can see his lips moving, saying the very words that are now like a bullet to my heart.
“I’m sorry, Wynter,” he whispers.
Static once again. Their voices surround me, echoing in a repetitive cycle of torture.
“I’m sorry—”
I clutch my head, trying to force the voices out.
“I’m sorry . . .”
Tears burn my eyes as the pain consumes me. I drop to my knees, praying for the vision to end.
I can’t take it.
“Wynter . . .”
I can’t take it.
“Wynter?”
My eyes flutter open, and I find myself back in the tiny storeroom. Warm tears stream down my face, engulfing me in the heartbreak still lingering from my dream. I brush them away when I hear the door begin to open.
“Wynter? I’m coming in.”
I sit up just as the woman from before enters the room. She’s holding a tray of what appears to be food and gazing at me with an unexpected level of warmth, almost as if she’s happy to see me for some reason. However, her face drops the moment she notices my expression.
Her eyes never leave mine as she sets down the tray. In one graceful movement, she’s sitting on the cot, bringing herself close to me until we’re practically touching.
I can feel the kindness that seems to radiate from her body like heat. It’s a wonderful aura—completely unfamiliar to me in the best way possible.
“Are you all right?” she asks. Her voice is soft and gentle.
I nod, but my breaths tremble, revealing the truth. I sigh, wiping away the few remaining tears. “I was remembering my father,” I whisper. “I was remembering the last time I saw him alive.”
She frowns before placing her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she breathes.
The corners of my lips upturn into a smile, but I immediately look away from her, unaccustomed to showing such weakness—to showing any emotion at all. It’s so different from the life I led before. So different from the way the State has always forced us to live.
“Do you mind if I ask what happened to him?”
Her words surround me, reminding me of my dark and harrowing past. I don’t speak for a long moment. The lump lodged in my throat seems to swell with each breath.
“He was executed for treason,” I finally answer. “My last memory of him is when he was taken from our home. I never saw him again after that.”
Our eyes meet briefly, and I can see the pity in her gaze. There’s something else there as well—an understanding of sorts, almost as if she can empathize with my pain.
As if she’s felt it too.
“You know,” she says. “Everyone here has lost someone or something. That’s why we fight. So our losses don’t have to be for nothing.”
She folds her hands around mine, and shifts her body even closer. The warmth I felt before seems intensified by her touch.
“Regardless of your reasons for coming here, I personally think you should stay. You belong with us.”
I stare at her in shock, taken aback by her bold but blind sense of trust.
“Why are you so sure you can even trust me?” I ask. “The others don’t.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “You remind me of me when I was younger. I see the same fear in you that I once saw in myself. That I still see in myself.”
I gape at her, wondering how she can be so open with someone she doesn’t even know. After all, this isn’t how our world works. We don’t make eye contact. We don’t develop close relationships. We don’t welcome each other the way she’s welcoming me now. Still, more than anything else, I find myself wanting to prove to her that she can trust me—that I’m not here to cause problems for them.
“I’m not a spy,” I murmur.
When those words leave my lips, I fully realize why I came here. It wasn’t just to find Ezra or to see PHOENIX for myself. It wasn’t just to figure out what these visions mean. It was to escape the life that had turned its back on me. To start over.
“I know,” she whispers back. Smiling, she rises to her feet and offers me her hand. “Follow me,” she says. “You could stand to stretch your legs and get out of this cramped room for a bit.”
I hesitate, unsure how this will go over with the others—Ezra, in particular. He specifically said that I wasn’t to leave this room, so what happens if I do? Something tells me this woman won’t let anything bad happen to me, though. She seems like someone I can trust, and I doubt Ezra would do anything if she stood against it.
After a moment, I take her hand and follow her lead toward the open door. Whatever happens, at least she’ll be with me.
“Oh, by the way,” she says, turning back around with a flick of her long hair. “My name is Rai. Rai Dorne.”<
br />
She smiles once again, and I see the glint of something in her gaze that I’ve never known before. Friendship. It’s a strange and somewhat foreign concept to me, but for the first time, I think I’m beginning to understand what it feels like.
I follow her through a series of hallways. Fluorescent lights hang at even intervals overhead, placed between a maze-like network of pipes, which follow along the length of the low ceilings. The walls are constructed solely of concrete, and all of the doors and throughways seem to be made of reinforced metal.
I notice there aren’t any windows. In fact, there isn’t any access to natural lighting at all. Between that and the damp, musty air, it occurs to me that we must be underground.
At first, we’re alone. However, the farther we walk, the more often we come into contact with other people.
They all stare at me with the same expression: confusion mixed even more heavily with distrust. I don’t blame them, but after the first dozen or so glances, I lower my head, wanting nothing more than to escape their judgmental gazes.
Suddenly, my feelings about the situation become distorted. This felt like a good idea at the time, but now, I’m not so sure.
“Hey!”
Looking up, I’m surprised to find that we’ve wandered into a large open room. A number of other people are gathered here, but out of all of them, I notice Jenner. He’s smiling broadly and waving his arms, although I’m more preoccupied with the person beside him.
I meet Ezra’s eyes. Even from a distance, I can see the hatred there.
Jenner runs toward us, skipping excitedly every third or so step. He stops next to me, grinning as he bites into a large apple.
“How’s it going?” he asks, spitting a little.
Before either of us can answer, Ezra appears like a dark cloud on the horizon.
“Why did you let her out?” He avoids my gaze as he barks at Rai.
“I already told you, she isn’t our enemy,” she snaps back at him. “We shouldn’t treat her like one.”
I glance between them. Jenner, seeming to realize that they’re about to have it out, puts his arm around my shoulders and steers me away.
“Hey, why don’t we go sit down and have a chat?” he suggests.
I look back at Rai and Ezra. They’re arguing so fiercely that I can hardly make out a single word they’re saying. It’s incredibly passionate, and I find myself wondering about their relationship.