The Broken Peace

by Martha Adele

  Bram looks back down to his food.

  Neither of us says anything. Moments of silence pass before I speak up, “So if you weren’t drawing lines between the two of you”—I clear my throat—“why was it so hard on you?”

  Bram looks up to me and licks his teeth as if thinking about answering me or not. After a moment of silence, I look back down to my food, thinking he won’t answer, but am proved wrong. “Because she suffered.”

  I look back up to him.

  “She was in there for weeks, almost ten, and the doctors did nothing. They knew she was going to die, and they knew she was suffering. They did nothing.”

  “So,” I say, “you wanted them to euthanize her?”

  He takes a moment to think but quickly answers, “If she were a dog going through that much pain and suffering, knowing there would be no return, no one would have blinked. They would have put her out of her misery immediately.”

  “Well, she is not a dog, Bram,” I tell him, slightly ticked off by his comparison.

  “I know. I am saying that if we would immediately help an animal like that, why wouldn’t we treat a human with the same sense of respect?”

  Grayson walks over to our table with his tray and gives the two of us a smile, allowing a subject change to appear. “Good afternoon.”

  I nod back to him. “Hey, Grayson.”

  Bram looks back down to his food and continues eating in silence.

  “So”—Grayson sticks his fork in his beans and stirs them around—“I spoke with Ludley earlier about you working in the ammunition hall.”

  “Yeah? What did she say?”

  “She said you can. I have to give you the training first, obviously, but then you’ll be good to go.”

  “Perfect,” I tell him.

  “I do have a few questions for you, though, you know, before you start working.”

  I swallow one of my last bites. “Go ahead.”

  Grayson clears his throat and glances over to Bram before asking me, “Do you have any restrictions physically?”

  “Huh?”

  “Because of your pregnancy? Anything I need to know about before you start working in order to ensure an easy job for you?”

  I look to Bram, who has looked up from his food to see me answer. I turn back to Grayson with a slight amount of anger. “No. Nothing I am aware of. Why?”

  “Well, I know morning sickness is an issue for some women—”

  “Yeah, well, that’s natural. All I will need is permission to leave as I need.”

  He nods. “Okay. Sounds good to me.”

  The three of us go back to our trays and eat in silence. I take the last bite of my food as Bram sits back up straight and gives me an odd look.

  “What?” I ask him, trying not to sound too ticked off.

  He shakes his head and returns his focus to his food. “Nothing.”

  “It was obviously something,” I say to him. “Go ahead.”

  “You seem a little angry. I don’t want to make you any more upset.”

  I look to Bram with a slight scowl but let up immediately. “I’m fine. Go ahead.”

  He clears his throat nervously just as Grayson did before asking me. Bram looks to Grayson, who chews with an equal amount of nervousness in his eyes. He takes another bite of his food and swallows. “Does Logan know about the baby?”

  “What?” I ask. “No. Why would he know if I just found out?”

  “Well, I sort of meant does he know that, or did he know that you could have, maybe have been, possibly pregnant?”

  I look to Grayson who is chewing with wide eyes, not knowing what to say. “What are you talking about?” I ask Bram. “Why would he have known?”

  Bram’s eyes grow larger than Grayson’s as I realize what he is insinuating.

  My breathing becomes shaky as I try to get the question out. “Do … do you think this is … that—do you think that Logan is the father? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Bram and Grayson exchange looks. Grayson remains quiet as Bram clears his throat again. “Well, isn’t he?”

  “What?” I snap. “That is none of your business!”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude. It’s just that the way Sam always spoke of you two, I figured that when you—”

  “Stop.” I rise to my feet and look to Grayson. “What about you? Did you think this was Logan’s too?”

  Grayson swallows his food. “I never assumed it was, but if I had to take a guess—”

  “What? A guess?”

  “Well, it was obvious at one point that you and Logan had a thing for—”

  Before Grayson can finish his statement, I storm off.

  Did they really assume the child inside me was Logan’s? Did they really assume that just because Logan may have liked me at one point that I slept with him? They don’t know anything.

  I make my way through the bunker and back into the simulation room with the fighting bots. No one else is in here, which makes it much better for me. I hop onto the platform and set the bot to medium.

  Its eyes light up yellow, and it whirrs to life. Its arms bend as it readies itself to fight, and its knees pop into a higher-functioning mode than they are usually set on. I wait for it to begin, and it takes one swift lunge at me.

  I dodge and elbow it in the back of the neck, causing it to almost tumble.

  The first shot it takes is always the easiest.

  The next act it does is lunge at me again; but this time, it takes me down. I take its arm and twist it to the point that the bot falls off me and has to recoup. I rise to my feet and hop onto its back, wrapping my arms and legs around it to the point that it can’t move. I hold my arm around its throat and hold until the bot simulation dies out.

  I rise to my feet and prepare myself for the next mode. Its eyes light up orange as it changes modes to something between medium and hard. The bot’s head slowly turns to stare at me as I hold my position. We both run at each other at the same time and end up dodging each other’s shots while also managing to land a few. Toward the end of our fight, I find myself becoming dizzy. The room slowly becomes much heavier as the bot swings its knee up and hits me hard in the stomach, causing me to lose all the air in my lungs.

  Its hit somehow gives me another boost of angered energy that I then use to tackle it to the ground and beat it until my knuckles begin to bleed. I do nothing that I am supposed to do to take it out. I don’t snap its neck. I don’t strangle it, break its joints, or anything that I was prepped and trained to do.

  I only beat the bot until the dizziness takes over.

  Werner

  Hours after Burris called me into her office, only to abandon me and leave to speak with some blonde girl, I am finally ushered out of Burris’s room by two large men.

  I am taken across town to a tall office building that I’ve never stepped foot into. I look around the lobby to find it bland and quite cheap looking but brush it off as I realize I recognize some of the faces.

  The two men walking me through the building haven’t looked me in the eyes once. They are looking forward and yet manage to keep me in a position between them so that I don’t think I could ever get out without drawing extra attention.

  We walk through the building, up some stairs, and down a hall until we make it to a small side door. One of the men opens the door for me; and my eyes immediately fall upon Burris, Eric Barnes from the Taai, and another large man, standing in the corner of the room.

  “It’s nice to have you finally join us, Rhodes.” Burris waves off the two men who walked me here, and they close me in. I look to Eric, who seems just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. “I’m sorry about leaving you in my office, I truly am, but I do feel that we have now reached a place of no return.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her.
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br />   “You seem to have begun doubting the system you swore to follow. All our wishes and all the assignments we have ever asked you to do were necessary actions, and you now question them. I can’t have someone who doesn’t trust me fully be assigned these important tasks.” Burris waves me over to the table against the wall in front of a large mirror. She stands beside me and looks at me through my reflection. “Rhodes, this task I am about to give you could be your final task depending on how you handle it.” She points down to the tilted table in front of us to one of the dozens of buttons, switches, and nozzles on it. Her finger lands on the little red button between us, and she looks me in the eyes. “This button causes an electric shock to be sent into someone on the other side of this mirror. I don’t have to tell you why we are doing this or why I am asking you to do this. I just need to know that you can follow orders.”

  Burris steps back and looks to Eric for a moment. After she looks to Eric, she looks back to me with a blank expression. “Press the button.”

  My eyes fall to the table and look to the large sum of gears as I sort through the million thoughts going through my head. Is there really someone on the other side of this mirror? How much of a shock will be sent through them? Will Burris have me killed if I don’t press the button? What is Eric doing here?

  “Press the button,” she repeats.

  I step away from the table and look back to her, knowing I am not going to get an answer. “Why? What did the person do?”

  She slowly steps to me, remaining only inches away from my face and looking me in the eyes. With a soft and yet harsh voice, she calmly states, “You failed your test.” Burris presses a small button on the side of the table, and the two men who ushered me here rush me. “Take him to the cell,” she tells them.

  They grab my arms and begin pulling me out of the room as I watch her turn to Eric. She says something to him as I begin thrashing to get the men to loosen their grip, but I can’t hear it. Just as the door closes behind me, I see Eric nod his head and press the button.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Logan

  Another severe burning jolt is sent through my sides. With the two small metal prods jamming into my hips as I sit in the empty room with nothing staring back at me but my own reflection, I beg them to stop once more.

  “I don’t know anything!” I shout at them, screaming at the top of my lungs. I look down to the wooden chair and stare at the leather straps they have around my wrists and my waist. The small metal sticks being held into my hip bones slowly begin to heat up, causing me to shout at the mirror again, “I don’t know anything!” After having them pull out my fingernails one by one as slowly as they could, and me still not telling them anything, why do they still think I know? They even ripped a few of them in half and bent them backward as they forced me to watch! Why would they think I know something worth going through that for?

  I watch the blood dripping slowly from my fingertips. The puddles created on the ground from my new wounds drive me insane as I watch the nails sit in their own blood. I would rather sit through one hundred more electric shocks than have to have them pull out my fingernails like that again. At a time like this, I would be rubbing them each three times over. But now? All I can do is watch them lie on the floor, covered in my blood, and try not to think back to how they got there.

  After a moment, the overhead speaker comes on again, “You told one of our sources that Frieden’s government was the one responsible for the bombings. True or false?”

  I pant, trying to catch my breath from the last shock. I feel my heart slow down an abnormal amount as my head pounds. “True.”

  “Okay, good. Now, where did you hear that from?”

  “My friend Sam. Samuel Beckman,” I whine, letting my head fall back against the chair, “and his friend Bram. I don’t know his last name.”

  “You see, that’s the thing,” the voice from the speaker says. “This is where I don’t believe you. It just seems too perfect of a story. Your friend Sam is dead, and his friend Bram is nowhere to be found. I mean”—the voice gives a sarcastic snort—“Sam and Bram? You even chose names that rhyme. How does that help anything?”

  I feel the sticks in my sides warm up drastically. I can’t help but shout out, “No! No no no!” They send a large volt and electricity through my sides, down my legs, up my torso, and down my arms to the open wounds on my fingertips. The burning and shock sensation is one of the worst pains I’ve ever felt. It makes me rethink saying I’d rather do this than have my fingernails pulled out again. I can’t even scream as the electricity flows through me. I have no control of my body.

  The moment the shocking stops, I feel myself become saturated below my waist.

  “Aw, look at that,” the voice says. “You peed yourself. How does that feel, Logan?”

  I watch the urine spread through my pants as I soak in my own embarrassment.

  “The only way to stop this is to tell me who you heard those things from.”

  I bang my head against the back of the chair again and find myself whining out, “I told you everything I know. It’s not my fault Sam died.”

  “Well, too bad then.” He clears his throat and chuckles. “Logan, let me introduce you to my friend. His name is Maynor Leishman, and he will be dealing with you today. It was nice working with you.”

  The sound cuts off for a moment in the room before another voice appears, this one much smoother in tone. “Hello, Mr. Forge.”

  There is a silence that sits between us for a moment. I don’t say anything.

  “I said,” the man repeats, “hello, Mr. Forge.”

  The sticks on my sides begin to warm up, but I shout out before they shock. “Hello! Hello, Mr. Leishman!”

  The sticks whirr back down and cool themselves as the man comes back onto the speakers. “That’s more like it. So today I’ve watched my associate try to deal with you for a few hours. Nothing he seemed to do worked, but then again, that was him. I have a different way of dealing with you, people.”

  The screen in the top-right corner of the room clicks to life as a picture of a man in the same seat I am sitting in comes up. The angle of the picture is from the back right corner of the room. I look back there to find a small video camera and fear what comes next.

  “I don’t play games. If you don’t answer my questions, it is because you don’t know. And you know what? If you don’t know, I have no use for you. I can’t let you leave now that you’ve been questioned, so there is really only one way to save your skin. You tell me something I want to hear.”

  A click echoes through the room from above me. I look up; and immediately, gallons of some sort of clear liquid are dumped on me from the ceiling. I keep my head down to keep the liquid out of my face, but it splashes off my legs and into my nose anyways. I cough and choke, spitting it out as the liquid stops pouring, and look around the room. I watch it slowly disappear as the drains beneath me swallow the remaining drops up, and I look back to the mirror to see a soaking wet me.

  “What is this?” I shout, trying not to let any more of the liquid into my mouth or nose.

  “Let’s just say it’s not water.” The giddy manner of the man’s voice sends a gut-wrenching feeling into my stomach that I can’t ignore. “If you don’t tell me something I want to hear in the next ten seconds after the video ends, you will have the same fate as this man.”

  The picture on the screen in the top-right corner begins playing a video of a man in this seat, screaming, thrashing, begging to get out. The same liquid that was just dumped on me is dumped on him, but he seems to have a worse time choking on it than I did.

  “What is this?” he shouts at the window just as I did.

  Another click echoes through the room, this time releasing a red gas in the video. The gas floats toward the man from all angles as he screams for help. I look around the room to see small holes on the wall
s where I assume the gas was released and am immediately scared back into watching the video from the man’s screams. His horrid voice echoes through the room as the gas touches his saturated skin, causing immediate boils and welts to form, seemingly burning him alive. The man thrashes around in a spastic manner, worse than I have ever seen before, and continues thrashing until his body falls lifeless to the side of the chair. The gas continues to float through the room on the video as the man dangles from his seat, and I look back to the mirror to see the horror I feel staring back to me.

  Werner

  I finally got one of the goons to tell me something. They said that I will be executed tomorrow. After they told me that, my immediate reaction was to flee. They ended up calling in another man as backup, and the three of them threw me in here and beat me.

  They beat me for what felt like an hour. I got a lot of good hits in; and for a moment, I thought I was going to win. Sadly enough, one of them pulled out a vial and took me down before I got the chance to escape.

  So now, I sit in my cell with a million bruises and possibly broken ribs, waiting for tomorrow to come. Hours have passed, but I don’t know the time. The darkness they have left me in is causing my head to spin.

  I hate being in captivity. I’ve never liked being trapped. That is one of the reasons I prefer to be outside. It feels as if there is more space. But in here? There is too little space. Too little air.

  I don’t even know where I’m being held.

  I know there are guards outside of my cell, but that is all I know. I can hear them walking around. I’ve listened to them for hours.

  Or however long I’ve been awake.

  A thud snaps me out of my thoughts and back to reality.

  Are they here? Is it time?

  I brace myself to bolt out of the door as I listen. A few guards shout, but the shots of a surpresor meet my ears.

  I loosen up for a moment, listening to the silence behind the cell door, but almost immediately tighten back up as I hear the lock on the door click open.