by M. A. Phipps
What are they to each other that they can speak so openly?
I allow Jenner to lead me to an unoccupied seating area in the corner of the room. As soon as we sit down, he offers me a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
He smiles before taking another loud bite from his apple. He stares at me for a moment, and then outstretches his left arm until it’s hanging frozen in the air before me.
I peer at his empty hand.
“The name’s Jenner Rhodes,” he says. “But just call me Jenner.”
I lift my arm, and I shiver a little when he touches my skin. Although it’s an unfamiliar gesture to me, I allow him to shake my hand.
For a long while after that, neither of us speak. The others can still be heard arguing across the room, but in spite of that, the silence is overwhelming. Still, I find Jenner’s company comforting. Something about him, just like with Rai, is so unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before.
“I agree with Rai, you know,” he says. “I don’t think you’re one of them.”
“You seem to be the only ones,” I whisper.
“Nah, you’re too innocent. They have too much blood on their hands to pull that off.”
He leans in close to me, and I can’t help but turn toward him, considering the proximity. His eyes meet mine, and there’s an emotion buried behind them that I can’t quite figure out.
“Don’t worry,” he breathes. “The others will see that soon enough.”
My jaw drops as I gape at him, utterly amazed and somewhat lost for words. “None of this is how I imagined it to be,” I manage.
“I can see what you mean,” he says, throwing his head back and chuckling. “I thought the same thing when I first came here.”
A lopsided grin pulls at his lips as our eyes lock. I feel awkward beneath his gaze, and the silence between us seems charged with an unexplained tension. I shift uncomfortably, breaking the eye contact between us.
Out of my peripheral vision, I notice him look away from me.
“It’s all lies, you know. Everything they say about us,” he murmurs. “All that violence is attributed to us, when in reality we don’t cause any of it.”
I glance up at him. “You mean the State?” I ask.
He nods.
I consider his words. Why would the State lie about PHOENIX? What would they get out of frightening people with the threat of terrorism? But as those questions cross my mind, I realize that I’m beginning to grasp the answer.
“If you aren’t responsible for the attacks . . .”
“Fear leads to control,” he grumbles. “I suppose that’s a pretty big incentive for them.” He leans back and sighs. “I just wish people knew the truth about us. Mindless violence won’t bring about change.”
“What will?” I breathe.
He looks at me, and for the first time, I notice the color of his eyes. They’re a lovely shade of blue. For some reason, it reminds me of sadness.
“Honestly? I’m still trying to figure that one out,” he admits.
It’s strange. The State has always portrayed PHOENIX as a force to be reckoned with. To be feared. But as I watch Jenner, I realize that they’re the ones who are afraid. These people aren’t terrorists or murderers. They’re just a group of scared individuals. Nothing more.
The solemn expression on Jenner’s face makes me eager to change the subject. My eyes dart around the room, once again landing on Rai and Ezra.
A spark of curiosity forms my next question for me. “How did you all meet?”
Jenner peers over at me before following my gaze. When he sees where I’m looking, he says, “Well, Ez and Rai have known each other since they were kids. They’ve gone through all of this together, every step of the way.”
Together. On a personal level, I don’t even know what that word means.
I stare at them, their loud bickering still projecting throughout the room, and I realize that I envy them—whatever their relationship may be.
“How about you?” I ask Jenner. “How did you end up here?”
“I, uh . . .” He runs his hand through his hair as his cheeks turn a subtle shade of red. “I had a bit of a run-in with the authorities,” he confesses. “It was a misunderstanding more than anything else. A case of wrong place, wrong time. Anyway, Ezra and Rai got me out of that bind. I’ve been with them ever since.”
As he speaks, I get the distinct impression that this life wasn’t necessarily something he always wanted. “You don’t seem too happy about that,” I point out.
“It’s not that I don’t feel grateful toward them, because I do,” he says. “It’s just that, when they saved me . . . everything changed. I had to leave my entire life behind, and my family suffered as a result. I couldn’t see them. Couldn’t go to them. Not even to say goodbye.”
He takes a deep breath, and it becomes clear to me that his past is painful for him to talk about. Regardless of how much time has passed, it’s obvious he’s still hurting.
He clears his throat and once again runs his hand through his hair. “When the Enforcers couldn’t find me, my family was brought in for questioning.” He hesitates, casting an uncertain glance in my direction. “You know what the DSD is like,” he mutters. “They were executed shortly after. I know I’m responsible for what happened to them. If I had died, then they wouldn’t have had to. But . . . at the same time . . . their deaths are my reason for fighting, you know? I want to prevent such needless tragedy from happening to anyone else.”
The feeling of sympathy that arises within me seems strong enough to drown an entire city. I can’t even comprehend the pain that Jenner has gone through. Well, I can, but at least I was young enough that I don’t fully remember it.
Everything else that’s happened to me since, I thought it was bad. But what Jenner’s experienced, what everyone here has probably experienced, is far worse than anything I could ever imagine.
“That right there,” he says.
I look up to find him smiling.
“That’s how I know you aren’t one of them.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
His lopsided smile reaches all the way to his eyes. He looks happy, in spite of everything he’s just revealed to me. Although, I can’t figure out why.
I meet his gaze. The way he looks back at me is somewhat unsettling. No one’s ever looked at me this way before. The seconds roll by, and he still doesn’t answer me. Before I can press him further, he turns away, distracted by something across the room. I follow his gaze to see Rai walking toward us.
“How’d it go?” he asks her once she’s close enough to hear him.
“He needs time to mull things over. But he’ll come around.”
I glance away from them, noticing that Ezra is nowhere to be seen. He must’ve left after his argument with Rai. But why? What were they fighting about that made him so angry?
Me, no doubt, I realize.
I slump back against the bench, losing myself to my confused thoughts. The images in my head seem intent on replaying my dream, except it’s not my father that I’m seeing this time.
It’s Ezra.
I see his face.
I hear his voice.
“I’m sorry, Wynter.”
Those words surround me until I hear nothing else. Closing my eyes, I exhale deeply, curious more than ever about why he’s apologizing.
THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS are spent touring the compound in the few hours when I’m actually allowed out of the storeroom. Rai and Jenner are hospitable, each giving off an air of friendliness that almost makes me believe I’m not actually a prisoner. Then we pass one of the other residents here, and encountering that familiar expression of distrust forces me to remember where I am.
It forces me to remember who I am.
It also doesn’t go unnoticed that there are things they choose not to show me. Specifically, the exits. Regardless of how they’re treating me, regardless of what they say, I know I’m not tr
uly welcome here when all is said and done.
“Make yourself at home.”
I glance at Rai, and I can’t help but grimace. After all, her words are in direct contradiction to the thoughts racing through my head.
“Really,” she insists when she sees my face.
I can’t help but frown at her, certain that making myself at home would only cause more problems for me in the long run. She and Jenner might like me enough to encourage me to stay, but I have a feeling that sentiment isn’t shared by the others.
“The first step to acceptance is exposure,” she presses. “The people here need to see you if they’re expected to trust you, and that’ll never happen if you’re locked away all the time.”
Suddenly, I find myself wondering how long I’ve been here. Just over a week, maybe? Less than half of which I’ve actually spent conscious. How can they be so quick to trust me—to expect others to trust me?
We pause beside an open doorway leading into what appears to be a kitchen. Rai turns toward me and takes hold of both of my hands.
“This is where I leave you,” she murmurs. “Jenner, could you show her to the showers?”
“Sure thing,” he says with a smile.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him staring at me. When I look up at him, he winks. I flush and turn away.
Rai says her goodbyes and retreats through the metal archway, leaving us alone.
Jenner returns to our leisurely stroll, and I follow him through the corridors without another word. We walk in silence for quite some time, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It just feels comfortable. Natural.
“How many people live here?” I ask him after a while.
“Twenty-six,” he answers. “But with you, we have twenty-seven.” He peeks over at me as he says this, showing me that lopsided smile once again.
My feet falter, and for a moment, I wonder if I heard him correctly. He seems completely at ease with this information while I, on the other hand, feel alarmed by what he’s said.
Twenty-six people? The fearsome terrorist organization known as PHOENIX only has twenty-six people?
“Is that it?” I gasp.
His eyes meet mine, and I can see a spark of understanding shining within them.
“We’re just one branch in a much larger tree,” he assures me. “PHOENIX has hundreds of sects residing in this city alone, some of which greatly outnumber ours.”
I feel myself releasing a sigh of relief, although truth be told, I’m not entirely sure why. I barely even know these people, so why does it matter whether they have the support to stand up to the State?
That’s their problem, isn’t it?
“Well, here we are,” Jenner says, halting beside another open doorway. “Rai told me she set aside some clothes for you in the shower area, which is just through there. I’ll wait for you here while you clean up. I know it’s been a while since you’ve been able to, so take your time.”
His comment in regards to my lack of cleanliness would be insulting if I didn’t know how true it was. I cringe when I realize that it’s been months since I last bathed. I guess I didn’t see the point when I knew I could die at any time.
Suddenly, I feel self-conscious. Without another word, I dash through the door, eager to be away from his lingering gaze.
My pace slows significantly once I know I’m out of sight. Now that I’m alone, I feel like I’m trespassing, and I find myself whipping around at the slightest noise, frightened of who might be waiting around every corner.
Thankfully, no one else is here. I take advantage of the solitude as much as I’m able to.
I step into one of the empty shower cubicles and turn the hot water on to the point where it’s nearly scalding. It feels good against my aching skin, like the heat is burning away the trauma of everything that’s happened these past few months.
I take a deep breath. The water soaks uncomfortably into the bandage around my wrist, and after careful consideration, I decide to undo it. Biting my lip, I take a long overdue look at the damage I’ve inflicted upon myself.
Apart from some swelling, and the rather unsightly stitches holding it all together, the wound doesn’t look too bad. I count myself lucky considering how easily it could’ve turned out differently.
I hang on to that thought—as well as on the efforts that Rai took to fix it—as I hold my arm out under the water.
PHOENIX. They’re not at all what I expected and certainly nothing like the State portrays them to be. Still, I find myself feeling uncertain about them. Not necessarily as individuals, since I’ve found kindness here that I could’ve never anticipated, but about PHOENIX as a whole. I don’t exactly feel safe here, and I definitely don’t feel like I belong, regardless of what Rai and Jenner say to encourage otherwise.
Yet, a very large part of me is saying I have to be here—that this place will help me discover the truth behind what’s happening to me.
But how? Ezra seems to be the key, considering he was the one I saw in my vision. But how do you get close to someone when they would rather see you dead?
I think of my vision. The way Ezra looked at me. The tears in his eyes. Something has to change between us to cause that sort of reaction.
But what?
I let out a heavy sigh, aware that I have no other choice except to get him to trust me. If I want answers, if I want to find out the meaning behind my visions, then I have to get close to him by any means possible.
A high-pitched squeal expels from the tap when I shut off the water. I climb out of the shower, noticing the clothes Rai set out for me on the side of a sink by a row of mirrors.
I leave the filthy garments from the DSD where they are, determined never to look at them again, let alone touch them. They hold too many bad memories, too many horrors. I can’t subject myself to reliving them, not even in my thoughts, and I’m afraid the slightest reminder would be all it’ll take to shut me down.
I pull on the fresh clothes. They’re a bit large on my shrunken frame, but they’ll have to do for now.
My fingers comb through my tangled hair, and my eyes look up into the mirror above the sink.
I’m startled to see the person staring back at me. I thought I looked bad before, but I seem to have deteriorated since I last saw my reflection.
My skin is pale, almost sallow, and prominent bags hang under my eyes, darkening the skin around them. I generally look unwell, the realization of which makes me fear what effect this disease is having on me.
I discard the thought and head back for the hallway, desperate to focus on anything else. When I enter the corridor, I notice Jenner leaning up against the wall next to the door. He’s whistling a soft tune and his eyes are closed. He looks serene, beautiful even. At peace.
I envy him, wishing more than anything that I could know what that feels like.
His eyes blink open, and he glances up at me. A cheerful smile spreads across his face. “Look at you, all cleaned up.” He gives me the once over and lets out a long drawn-out whistle. “You were cute before, but now . . . !”
I blush beneath his gaze, not sure how to react. I take it as a compliment that he finds anything physically appealing about me at all, especially considering how I look. Although, truth be told, his reaction might boil down to the obvious lack of age-appropriate females residing here.
“Shall we continue?” he asks as if sensing my discomfort.
I nod, allowing him to maneuver me through the rest of the compound. There isn’t much left to see, but then again, I don’t really know what more I was expecting. In truth, I think Jenner and Rai are more concerned with extracting any potentially useful information than they are with actually making me feel at home. But I’m okay with that. No matter what their motive is, it’s the kindness they’ve shown me that’s really mattered.
After a while, we find ourselves back in the large open area from a few days earlier. My feet stumble beneath me when my eyes land on the sizable group of people in front
of us. A sudden uneasiness twists my stomach, causing me to linger at the border of the room. Jenner looks back at me and nods his head, assuring me that everything will be fine. I hesitate, but eventually convince myself to trust him. My nerves settle further when I see the reason for the crowd.
Roughly two dozen people surround a middle-aged man, who stands in the middle of the room, smiling happily. The others each take a turn patting him on the back. I hear the same phrase repeated countless times among them, but it sounds jumbled in my ears, the words unclear from where we stand.
Curiosity gets the best of me. I watch the group until I catch a glimpse of Rai entering the room, holding a heavy-looking crate full of glass bottles. When she sets it on the floor, everyone begins to cheer before setting upon her like a hungry pack of wolves. It occurs to me that the bottles must contain alcohol—a treat most of them probably aren’t usually afforded.
With drinks in hand, they all turn back toward the middle-aged man. His face reddens with embarrassment and grows several shades darker when a chorus of singing explodes throughout the room. My eyes widen when I hear the lyrics, genuinely surprised by what I’m seeing.
I shake my head.
“It’s amazing,” I whisper. “With everything you have going against you, you still find time to celebrate birthdays.”
I can feel Jenner looking at me, but it’s only when I sense him smile that I finally meet his gaze. Yet, I can’t help but notice the dark nature of his expression. Even with that smile, he seems sad more than anything else.
“Well, it’s the little things that make life worth living,” he breathes. “Besides, we have to enjoy it while we can because, as you have indirectly pointed out, we could all be dead tomorrow.”
His eyes fix on mine, and the way he stares back at me sends a shiver across my skin.
“The birthdays we have now,” he murmurs. “They could be our last.”
I turn away from him, feeling uncomfortable and ashamed. How could I be so callous and so reckless with my judgments? I might not have meant anything offensive by what I said, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t. The people here have experienced true loss and pain, and in spite of that, are trying to find strength and carry on.