Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1)

by M. A. Phipps

  To do whatever it takes to fight for a better future.

  Neither Jenner nor I speak again for a long while, instead choosing to watch the celebration in front of us. My eyes scan the room, observing this fleeting moment of bliss in the many faces around me.

  Through it all, there’s only one person I see.

  I notice him watching me through a space in the crowd. His eyes seem to pierce through me, hard and cold.

  The moment I meet his gaze, I feel my body begin to change. I recognize the pain before I can even fully process it. It spreads through me, searing every inch of my very existence like a hot piece of metal being dragged across my skin. I grab my head, my fingers gripping with such intensity that my skull feels ready to implode beneath my touch. Still, I continue to dig, hoping to stop the pain—to unbury it before it consumes me.

  Screams rip from my lungs as the vision overtakes me. The images stab my brain, and a horrible burning stretches across the recent incision on my wrist. I collapse to my knees as I’m brought back to the alley at the border of Zone 7. I see a crowd of Enforcers, as well as a handful of people wearing familiar white coats.

  I recognize the coats, just as I recognize Dr. Richter before I even see his face. He turns toward me at the same instant his name rushes through my head, and for a brief moment, I’m almost certain he can actually see me.

  His lips are pursed as he glares down at his hand. A feeling of reluctance twists my stomach, but I follow his gaze, immediately recognizing the bloodied glint of gold. I don’t need confirmation to know what he’s looking at. His expression would be enough to tell me if I did have any doubts. The corners of his mouth pull up into a sneer, and his fingers clench around the chip, the knuckles turning white as he encloses it in his fist.

  “Clever girl,” he purrs.

  A shudder runs up my spine, and all at once, I’m back in the compound. My vision is obscured. I can feel myself twitching across the floor, but I can’t do anything to control my movements.

  I vaguely realize that people are beginning to swarm around me, but I don’t have the energy to care. I’m in too much pain, too exhausted, and above all, I’m frightened.

  “Wynter!”

  I hear Rai call to me, but I can’t answer her. I can’t speak.

  “Wynter! What the hell’s happening?” Jenner’s voice enters my ears, so full of confusion and concern.

  An excruciating agony seems to attack my every cell, forcing my body into a near state of unconsciousness. The shadow rises from beneath me, ready to bring me down into the darkness of a physical state far different from sleep. I don’t fight against it. If anything, I give into it—desperate to escape this torment.

  Jenner and Rai continue to huddle over me, and I can just barely make out their faces as the blackness takes hold. But they aren’t what I’m focusing on.

  They aren’t what I’m seeing.

  Ezra still stares at me from between the faces in the crowd. However, his expression is no longer cold and hard. Not at all like it was before.

  Now, when the darkness finally arrives to pull me under, he looks at me differently—his eyes saying one thing and one thing only.

  He’s afraid.

  I STRUGGLE TO OPEN MY eyes. The pain running through my head is unrelenting, and the bright light above seems intent on blinding me.

  I raise my hand to block out the glare. The tiny storeroom smells of dust and mold, adding to the thick layer of tension overcrowding the already cramped room. Ezra, Rai, and Jenner occupy the limited empty space, but it doesn’t escape my notice that they’re keeping their distance from me—and for good reason. They’ve seen the very thing that I was hesitant to tell them about. The one thing I told them they’d have to see to believe. Well, now they’ve seen it, and here I am, back in my little prison.

  So, what does this mean? Are we back to square one with them not trusting me again, or are they simply frightened and confused by what they saw? Their expressions alone seem to support the latter. Either way, I know I wouldn’t be back here if there wasn’t a reason for it.

  My entire body aches as I move to sit up. I press the heel of my hand against my throbbing forehead, hoping the pressure will be enough to counterbalance the pain. When this doesn’t work, I drag in multiple deep breaths, trying not to focus on the feeling of dread twisting my stomach. It burrows deep, ravaging my insides.

  My visions are getting worse. I can tell by how my body is reacting. What will happen when the pain becomes too much? When a single episode cripples me to the point of no return?

  What will happen when I stop waking up?

  The fear of death hovers at the front of my mind. I push it away, concentrating instead on the potentially bigger threat standing before me.

  “It’s time you tell us what the hell is going on.”

  Ezra’s eyes seem to burn into my skin, making me squirm. I try not to look at him, and for a long moment, I find it difficult to speak. I swallow, forcing out the words between raspy breaths. “I told you it was something you had to see to believe.”

  His eyes narrow. “What happened back there?” he presses me. “What was that?”

  I hesitate, unsure what to say. One way or another, I’ll have to tell them the truth. I know that. But how? What possible explanation will make them believe me?

  “The condition I have . . . it allows me to see things,” I finally answer.

  “What kind of things?” Rai cuts in.

  She stumbles toward me, and I can see her body trembling, despite how hard she’s trying to hide it. Her eyes are wide, filled with both fear and anticipation—the same expectant look I notice on each of their faces. I waver. All too aware this is the moment of truth.

  If I’m going to tell them, now is the time to do it.

  “Things that haven’t happened yet,” I breathe.

  The silence that ensues is unbearable, maddening even, and the tension clouding the room seems to have reached its breaking point. I glance between Ezra and Rai, but neither of them say anything.

  Suddenly, Jenner begins to laugh. The sound is somewhat unsettling in the otherwise eerie hush, and we all look at him at the same instant, startled by his outburst.

  “That’s impossible,” he says with a wave of his hand.

  Rai casts an uncertain glance at Ezra. His face is ghostly pale, the skin colorless to the point his expression is like stone. His reaction is bewildering.

  I stare at him, trying to make sense of the unspoken emotion in his gaze. He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to look at me.

  A sinking feeling weighs in my gut. I swallow again, trying to suppress the apprehension climbing up my throat. The seconds seem to tick by at a snail’s pace, and it’s as if everyone’s waiting for Ezra to say something.

  “What did you see?” he finally asks me.

  I vaguely realize that he’s repeated himself twice now, but I find it hard to concentrate on anything except his eyes.

  Those familiar, penetrating eyes.

  “That doctor I told you about. Richter—” I waver, held back by the fear that they might not believe me. I take a deep breath before continuing. “He was with a group of Enforcers in the alley where I left my chip. They found it,” I whisper, enunciating each syllable to express the gravity of the situation. “They know I don’t have it anymore.”

  “It’s not possible!” Jenner says again, shouting this time.

  We all glance back at him, and I’m surprised to find that he seems almost angry. But oddly enough, he’s not looking at me.

  He’s looking only at Ezra.

  “Come on, man, seeing into the future?” he scoffs. “I think our little captive here must’ve hit her head. There’s no way you can actually believe what she’s saying.”

  Rai shifts closer to him and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Jenner—” she mutters calmly.

  “No!” he shouts, ripping his arm away from her. “It’s just not possible!”

  The room g
oes quiet, the silence so thick I could cut it with a knife. I watch Jenner carefully, aware that, in spite of the kindness he’s shown me over the past few days, we’ve now become separated by this single moment. My heart drops when I think about it.

  Once again, the seconds tick by at a snail's pace. A shudder runs up my spine as goosebumps rise along my skin, the fear wrapping its invisible hand around my throat. I can feel it choking me, can feel it in every beat of my quickening pulse.

  I’m distracted by the sound of Ezra’s voice. It enters my ears, encircling my brain in a fog of confusion.

  “Yes, it is.”

  My eyes widen as I gape at him in shock.

  “How do you know?” Jenner asks him. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Because I’ve seen it before,” he breathes.

  What? How? I try to speak, but the words fail to escape my lips.

  “Ezra . . .” Rai whimpers.

  I glance at her when I hear the cautious tone of her voice. The way she looks at him seems to suggest that she was already in the know about all of this. In fact, the way she said his name almost sounded like a warning—a question of whether he actually wants to divulge whatever it is that gives him knowledge of my condition. Either way, I know whatever Ezra’s been through, whatever he’s seen, Rai knows about it.

  I stand completely immobile, finding this all quite difficult to grasp. Jenner, on the other hand, maintains his previous belief that what I’ve told them simply can’t be true. He shakes his head in continued denial.

  “It’s not—” he begins to protest.

  Ezra’s voice thunders through the room in response, silencing all of us. Especially Jenner.

  “It’s what killed my mother,” he reveals.

  For some reason, his words seem to be directed more at me than at anyone else. Maybe because, for the first time since arriving here, there seems to be something connecting us on a deeper level.

  Something that finally proves to him that I’m not the enemy—that I’m not his enemy.

  Taking a deep breath, he slumps back against the concrete wall as if all of the energy has left his body. “She kept saying these . . . things,” he whispers. “Everyone thought she was crazy, even my father. He had her institutionalized. I guess he figured she wouldn’t get better. At least not without help. I can’t really remember how long she was in there, since we were never allowed to visit. All I know is that, after a while, whatever it was took its toll on her body.” He pauses for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “The official diagnosis was that she died of a brain aneurysm.”

  I think back to my first proper meeting with Dr. Richter. He had asked me all of those questions and explained things to me that I still have difficulty wrapping my head around. But he also showed me the files of the other known individuals who suffered from this disease. From Ultraxenopia. Looking back, I wish I had thought to memorize their names. Maybe then, I would know if Ezra’s mother had been in that pile.

  “It was the unusual circumstances of my mother’s death that contributed to the selection of my brother’s career,” Ezra continues. “I guess now I know that he’s finally gained some insight into her condition after all these years.”

  I notice a strange emotion burning in his eyes when he says this.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. As the words breach my lips, I have a feeling that I already know the answer. It can’t be a coincidence, surely. Between Ezra and Rai’s reaction when I mentioned him before, and the way he responded to my vision back at the DSD . . .

  “That doctor you mentioned. His name is Austin.”

  My heart catches in my chest. Now that I look at him, I can see the resemblance, and in a strange way, it all makes sense. My abduction. The visions. The string of events that have happened since my exam.

  Still, I find the connection between them alarming, and I can’t stop myself from saying so. From hoping it isn’t true.

  “Are you sure?” I breathe.

  Ezra nods, but I can see a trace of doubt in his hazel eyes. Rai, who has been relatively silent up to this point, extinguishes that doubt with one simple breath.

  “We knew which sector he was projected to enter.”

  The suspenseful hush that I expect to follow this moment is quickly broken by the sound of Jenner’s voice. It echoes through the tiny room, overshadowing all of us.

  “Wait a minute, one of those DSD scumbags is your brother?” His blatant horror and disgust are obvious in each strained word.

  His hands clench into fists, almost as if he’s holding some stronger emotion at bay, and his lips are pursed, hiding the teeth grinding in anger behind them.

  I glance warily at Ezra, but Jenner doesn’t wait for him to answer his question. Instead, he lunges forward, closing the distance between them in one hurried movement.

  “Jenner!” Rai screams. She throws herself in front of him and holds out her hands, trying to reason with him—to convince him to calm down.

  He’s not thinking clearly, even I can see that. But at the same time, I can understand where he’s coming from. Based on the glint in his eye, I get the distinct impression that he feels betrayed by the very people he once believed to be his closest friends. It’s a hard feeling to overcome in a world where you never know who you can actually trust.

  “I haven’t seen or spoken to my brother in ten years!” Ezra snaps. “We became estranged shortly following my mother’s death, after which, he took on her maiden name. Probably out of resentment toward my father for locking her away in the first place. When I left home to join PHOENIX, we lost contact. He wanted nothing to do with me, and I never bothered to find out what he was up to.”

  Ezra glares at Jenner, who reciprocates that look with a matching level of intensity. However, they aren’t the ones that I’m looking at right now. Instead, I’m transfixed only by the unbearable sadness in Rai’s eyes. She doesn’t mask her emotions well, even when she tries to.

  I’m once again left wondering about her connection to Richter.

  “You should’ve said something,” Jenner growls. “That’s a messed up thing to keep from us, especially since you knew.” He makes a clicking noise with his tongue, reiterating his disapproval before muttering under his breath, “Shit like that makes you no better than the State.”

  Silence once again floods the room, and I can’t help but feel like an intruder in this conversation.

  It might have started with me, but it sure as hell hasn’t ended with me.

  “Jenner . . . let’s go for a walk,” Rai pleads.

  I watch as he casts a begrudging look over his shoulder before releasing an irritable grunt and storming out the door. Rai peers back at me, her lips pulling up into a small apologetic smile. She then makes to follow Jenner, but stops beside Ezra for a brief moment first, brushing her hand against his upper arm.

  My eyes dart between them. A wave of confusion washes over me, and the feeling only grows when Ezra lingers in the room.

  He remains behind, his eyes landing on mine as the door clicks into place, leaving the two of us alone.

  “I THINK I KNEW THIS entire time,” he says, breaking the silence that had arisen between us the instant the others left the room. “When we met back at The Vega, and then when you mentioned Austin . . . . I think, deep down, a part of me knew this had something to do with the disease that killed my mother.”

  He doesn’t look at me as he speaks. Regardless, I can see the mixed emotions in his gaze. There’s an intense regret there, as well as pain. Above all, I see rage, a fiery storm of passion that could overtake him at any moment.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to her,” I whisper.

  I am sorry. I can sympathize, after all. Although, maybe not from the same point of view. Still, it’s enough to make me wonder something I never even thought to question until now.

  Who is this disease really worse for? The person who has to suffer through it? Or the ones left behind who have to watch them deterio
rate?

  I guess it never occurred to me, since my own mother so readily gave me up. She was all I had. There was no one else for me to leave behind. No one to watch me slowly succumb to my condition. No one to watch me die.

  No one.

  I vaguely notice that Ezra is watching me. Glancing up, I meet his gaze, but what I find there is unexpected. The way he looks at me now is the polar opposite of how he always looked at me before, and I’m not only confused by the change, but taken aback by it. If anything, it reminds me of the first time I ever saw him.

  Of the way he appeared in my vision.

  It’s as if I’m looking into the eyes of an entirely different person—a stranger completely separate from the man standing before me.

  The corners of his lips twitch up into a smile, almost as if he can sense what I’m thinking. I reel back as my heart beats nervously in my chest, bewildering me further.

  All at once, his smiling face is no longer what I’m seeing. Now, all I can picture is his dirt-stained skin. His morose hazel eyes. The tears streaming down his cheeks.

  All I can hear are those three familiar words.

  “I’m sorry, Wynter.”

  I turn away from him, overwhelmed by the memory flooding my thoughts. It’s strange really, since it’s not actually a memory. Even though, to me, that’s exactly what it feels like.

  But even more than my conflicting thoughts, I’m torn between whether or not I should tell him about what I saw. I know that, sooner or later, I’ll have to. There’s no way around that. How can there be with something so important—so imperative to the future of not only the human race, but also the whole world?

  Sooner or later, he’ll have to know.

  I breathe in deeply. My lips part, trembling to the point that my every breath comes out ragged. As much as I try, I can’t find the strength to say what needs to be said.

  Instead, I turn the conversation to Richter.