I never found Ambert.”
I paused my writing. That last sentence made me worry about our mission.
‘If anything happened to Ambert because of me…’
I shook my head, pushing the thought to the side. The images were so fast, so confusing even with the vivid imagery. They were nothing to worry about.
Putting on my school uniform, I grabbed an empty vial of Wes’ Antiserum and headed downstairs.
“Morning, Mom,” I said.
“Well look here. Aren’t we chipper this morning?” Gran asked.
I laughed. “Morning, Gran.”
Mom placed an apple in a sack-of-sorts. The sack was a bag, worn on the edges, and had straps Mom could sling over her shoulder.
“What’s with the bag?” I asked.
“Darling, I…” Mom’s voice silenced half-way through her sentence.
“We got it at the store yesterday,” Gran explained.
“It looks nice,” I paused, “What are we using it for?”
“Oh, I got it for your Mom, Sweetie,” Gran said.
Mom packed some canned spaghetti into the bag.
“Are you guys going on a picnic? Is it warming up a little?” I asked.
“What?” Gran asked, “Oh, yes, Missy. Yes, we are.”
“Calista, you need to eat something. Busy day at school, right?” Mom asked.
I nodded. “I wish I didn’t have to go. Maybe I could’ve joined you for the picnic.”
“I wish so too, Darling,” Mom kissed my forehead, “Now, grab an apple and run along. I don’t want you to be late.”
I grabbed an apple and exited the kitchen. “Love you.”
---------------------------
Battle Strategy 204 was a requirement to graduate. Failing didn’t just mean repeating a year— it meant your expulsion. Despite being Mr. Knight’s daughter, it was my toughest class. The class combined tactics with mathematics and understanding what you were up against.
The worst part was the expectations for a natural aptitude even without dreaming or creativity involved. Wrapping my head around that after what Wes told me was difficult. Was The Regime protecting us or were they hypocrites? I wasn’t sure.
“Ms. Knight? You failed to answer my question,” the voice of Mr. Jackson spoke aggressively.
“What?” I asked.
Snickers echoed from the back of the classroom.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you today. Fidgeting limbs, glares around the classroom, not listening to the lecture, with your attention span, I’m surprised you made it past your first year!” Mr. Jackson yelled.
“Sorry,” I paused, “My father announced that Ambert’s getting a promotion.”
“Likely story…” the girl behind me pushed her feet against my chair.
Mr. Jackson nodded. “Rebecca Swinson, silence yourself! Most people don’t get that kind of treatment. Give your brother my regards, Ms. Knight.”
“Sorry, Mr. Jackson…” Rebecca mumbled.
“What was the question, Mr. Jackson?” I asked.
“What’s the first thing you have to do before going into battle?” Mr. Jackson questioned.
“Analyze your enemy, right?” I asked.
“And what would be your strategy against a group of one-hundred radicals? Would you kill them by poison gas, bombings, guns, or tanks? Ms. Smith?” Mr. Jackson asked.
“That’s an easy one,” June paused, “Poison gas.”
“Why?”
“It would be slow and painful, thus the same result as radical behavior.”
“I like the way you think, Smith.” Mr. Jackson nodded with approval.
I sighed.
“Something you want to add, Ms. Knight?” Mr. Jackson asked.
“Um… Why do we have to choose one of those options?” I asked.
The class silenced.
“What were you proposing?” Mr. Jackson asked.
“...Nevermind,” I moaned.
“Will Calista Knight report to Principal Hill’s Office? Thank you…” a voice on the loudspeaker echoed in the classroom.
I gulped and got up from my chair. Walking out of the class felt like walking to my death. Did Principal Hill know something? I knew she watched all of the classrooms through cameras and monitors. Did she hear my response? I didn’t know, but my stomach was queasy at the thought of capture.
Thirteen:
I knocked on the door of Principal Hill’s Office, shuffling my feet back and forth in the hallway. I placed a hand on my stomach. Would throwing up count as a sign of my guilt?
‘Don’t give too much away. You’ll be fine…’
The pounding from my heart said otherwise. One foul play-- one wrong move-- and Principal Hill would know my secret. I exhaled and let the breath sink to my toes. My cold hands clenched to each other and tried to remove their clamminess.
Principal Hill’s door squeaked open, showing her dimly lit room. A screen could be seen from the door’s opening— the cafeteria by the looks of it. Above that screen was the front school gate.
“Come in,” Principal Hill’s voice muffled in the background.
I tiptoed into the room, keeping my breaths shallow. My spine straightened like a proper military student and I kept my face as still as possible. Even if she knew about my radical behavior, I couldn’t give away my guilt.
Principal Hill sat in her soft black chair. The wool material was like a warm blanket as my hand brushed against it. The scent of peppermint filled the room. As I took a whiff of the smell, I automatically thought of Gran. Principal Hill was her opposite: young, strict, and resolute. If I forgot that, living was out of the question.
“You asked for me, Principal Hill?” I asked.
“Yes,” Principal Hill looked at me with her dark eyes, “I was impressed by your answer.”
“Really?” I relaxed my stiff position. Maybe this wasn’t for a punishment after all.
Principal Hill nodded. “Your brother answered a similar thing in his strategy class. He just took the time to clarify, unlike you.”
“I never knew Ambert did well in strategy. He’s a pacifist, Ma’am,” I explained.
“No one could tell. That day, his words even impressed The Commander. He asked if we could try to find ways to use The Dreamers to help the country. The Commander was inspired.”
“Is there another reason you called me here?” I asked.
“Yes, I wanted to congratulate your brother on his promotion. That’s a rare occurrence that I didn’t expect to see in my lifetime. The Commander and I have kept close for a while. I know he’ll enjoy the position,” Principal Hill said.
“That’s great, I guess…” I began.
Principal Hill interrupted. “But it’s a secret.”
“A secret? Why?” I questioned.
“You can leave now.”
“But…”
“Leave, Ms. Knight.” Principal Hill straightened her posture.
I nodded and headed out of the room.
“Calista?” Principal Hill paused for me to face her, “Tell your father I’m expecting great results from Project Dark Phoenix. The Commander’s already seeing progress.”
“I will the next time I see him.”
“Oh, and enjoy your two-day break for The Regime’s fifteenth anniversary.”
I nodded again and left.
Two guards dragged a blonde headed kid away, kicking and screaming the entire way.
Eyes widened, I rushed to get a look at the kid’s face. If it were Wes, I didn’t know what I would do.
“No, please… no,” their voice echoed.
I ran around the corner, glancing at the face. A girl with short blonde hair and delicate features was being dragged away. Her voice gave a familiar vibe to me. Was she Rebecca? The girl who sat behind me in strategy class?
The rules were getting stricter. Being careful was a necessity.
After school, I followed Wes to the warehouse and he gave me a new Fake-A
ntiserum to drink from. My eyes lit with excitement, eager to tell Wes about my dream.
“I had a dream last night,” I placed my hands in my pockets, “But it’s just a dream, nothing more, right?”
“What was it like?” Wes raised an eyebrow, placing his right hand on his chin in curiosity.
“It seemed too real. I can remember it so vividly it’s like a memory,” I took a deep breath trying to find words to describe it, “In my dream, we found Aurelia. She had blonde hair, purple eyes, and her skin was tanned…”
Wes lost track with what I was saying. “Strange… that’s how I draw Aurelia in my artwork...”
“So,” my lip quivered as I spoke, “What are you saying?”
“Keep telling me what happened in your dream, Calista,” Wes said before he closed his eyes like he would picture something.
I explained the rest of my dream, down to Ambert’s disappearance.
“... Is there any possibility you could be an oracle?” Wes questioned.
“What?” I asked.
“They’re people who get visions of the future. They get it in many different ways too.”
“Don’t be silly, Wes,” I laughed sarcastically, shifting my eyes around the room, “No one else in my family’s like that.”
Wes interrupted. “What about your father?”
I gulped. That was definite. “Not that I know of…”
Wes crossed his arms. “His fighting’s too skilled to be normal. That gives you a small chance of having powers too.”
“I never asked to have a father who uses his powers for evil,” I said.
“I never asked for my parents to be taken away from me,” Wes tightened his jaw.
“Then we both have problems with my father.”
I painted with him for a few hours and returned home. Hopefully, no one would notice the paint stains on my clothes.
The interior of the house was dark, quiet, leaving no movement but the falling snow. Mom and Gran must’ve been out again while Ambert and Father were working. Having the house to myself would be nice for once.
As the door creaked open, I trudged into the house. I headed straight to my room, put on my pajamas and started my homework. Dull words laced the page, and my taste for homework soured.
I glanced at my laptop. Curiosity called out for me to stop what I was doing for more research. Though the pull was strong, I found a way to finish my homework. Fingers crossed that my answers didn’t look too different. I only skipped one night of medication.
I slipped underneath my bed sheets and took Wes’ vial of Fake-Antiserum. Laptop in hand, I typed three words into the search bar:
Project Dark Phoenix
Would The Regime even have any information available? I doubt it was blocked.
To my surprise, the screen was empty. There were no articles or reports on it— leaving it more of a mystery than dreaming.
I closed my laptop. Frustration poured through my body as I placed it back on the desk. I sulked under the covers and thoughts ran in and out of my head.
Mind full and body worn out, I drifted to sleep.
Another dream began, this one more realistic than the first.
“The Commander wanted to speak with you.” The voice came from a scientist in a black lab coat.
“Ooh, really?” Another voice giggled, “I’m guessing you just have a message.”
“Project Dark Phoenix needs more resources. More importantly, the recipe,” the scientist explained.
“I know how we’ll get that. He just has to leave it me,” the other voice, feminine said.
“He knows that. The Commander expects the next batch in a few days.”
The next batch? What did that mean? This was getting more interesting and scary by the second.
“And what about him?” the feminine voice questioned.
“The boy?” the scientist paused, “Not yet. We have more tests to experiment with before involving him.”
“Works for me.”
The dream faded out.
‘What was that all about?’
My dreams left me with more questions than answers.
What was Project Dark Phoenix? How was it life changing? Would it affect our mission to locate Aurelia?
I was even more curious about Project Dark Phoenix. Curiosity drowned me, leaving me with anxiety and a sense of awe.
I hoped it wouldn’t get me killed.
Fourteen:
I woke to birds chirping, relieved to pop my shoulder and unwind. The dreams filled me with a sense of revival. My brain felt refreshed instead of drained. I couldn’t wait to tell Wes about them. He would be proud I had the guts to do it.
Not getting caught was another matter. Just missing one dose of Antiserum was enough to get you a death sentence. I skipped four days worth of it.
I crept downstairs and found myself alone in the house. It was quieter than normal. Almost an eerie aroma filled the air. Ambert and Father already left for work, and Gran and Mom were probably shopping.
Why do the laws tell people to shop if they are not working, going to school, or are taking care of small children? Sure, it boosted the economy, but it left families with items they didn’t need.
It only applied to those above the age of eighteen, so I wasn’t obliged to go, but still… it made one question who came up with wearing the same colors and banning new things. Maybe we wouldn’t need a law forcing people to shop.
I snuck to see Wes for four days now, yet it seemed different eating my bowl of cereal alone without Mom or Gran around. I was empty.
I glanced at a note on the table— the cream paper straight from a notebook— and picked it up. The worn paper curled at the edges:
“Dear Hugo,
I’m sorry, but things aren’t working out. Ma and I can’t bear to take your abuse much further. Your work is your dream, and I cannot stop you from loving it more than you ever loved me. I’m sorry for the pain you’ve been through, and I’m sorry you can’t understand what’s important. You will never see us again.
You and that dictator of yours can enjoy your lives together doing secret projects for The Regime. That’s what you want. My request is for you to not take out your hatred of our decision against the children.
We would’ve taken them with us, but you know just as well as I do that you would come to hunt us down. Ambert and Calista don’t deserve to become like you. Treat them well, and maybe they won’t run from you like Ma and I have…”
I could no longer read the note. Tears ran down my face and clouded my eyesight. I took a sniffle in and struggled to put the letter down. My hand shook before I threw the paper on the table.
‘Gran and Mom couldn’t be gone, could they? The laws don’t allow runaways. What about Ambert and me?’
They talked about it for a while in their spare time. Did they do it? Was that kiss telling me goodbye? Did they really go on a picnic or were they packing supplies? Tears poured down my face.
I couldn’t talk myself into believing it, though deep down I knew it was true. I couldn't stand Father, and I would leave too, but I couldn’t.
He owned me. That’s the reason they didn’t take us. No matter how much they loved us, the law required the father to have full custody of children. I never knew why, but it was one of the first decrees The Commander ordered — like it was personal.
‘Where were they now?’
I wasn’t as close to them as Ambert, but I knew the deep hole in my chest wasn’t doubting that Gran and Mom left.
No, I had to forget about that, despite my feelings. I made promises to Wes and Ambert to focus on planning, and they both needed my help if we were going to pull this off. I didn’t care about school. I placed my ID on the ground and let out a sigh.
If Mom and Gran were gone, the piece of my soul that loved them longed to get away too. If I went to school, focusing would be impossible. It was like I lost a parent. Worse, I lost two. Seams ripped away at my heart, letting my soul bleed
to the floor. I was done, alone, depressed, angry, lost…
Lost overtook me. Who was I in a broken family? Who could I turn to with my problems?
Breaking Order: Book 1 (Breaking Order Series) Page 7