"Mason Phillips is my old man," Everett moans, gripping at his shoulder. "I let him down too. There was no winning. The only difference is, you’ll forgive me someday. He won’t.”
Axel has his knee on Everett's chest, and as the other men come within sight, Axel shifts his body, holding the gun up to them, with his hands still cuffed together. Three shots, each man receiving a bullet to the head. I don't know where Axel was trained, but he was trained well. "There are more of them," Everett rasps. "They'll find you."
"Why?" Axel asks him, placing the end of his weapon to Everett's head. Blood continues to spill out of his shoulder, and I'm watching as his face discolors with degrading shades of pale white.
"You were the experiment—both of you,” Everett says. "You were part of the research. I’m sorry. It wasn’t me, though. I didn’t want this.”
"What do you mean? I wasn’t part of the fucking research,” Axel argues.
"Yeah, you were,” Everett says with a groan. "Mason Phillips—my father, Agent Roberts, Chuck, and every other asshole you’ve dealt with—they’re all together with a private sector of the government. They needed this research and the related findings to conclude which method was best to hide their underground secrets. You’ve been helping them for years. You were told it was all about Isabelle, but she was only half of this. It was a fucking cock fight to see which interrogation tactic was stronger. Each of you were bred differently and taught with ulterior methods. Isabelle’s is the winning method, but you're mentally stronger than anyone gave you credit for, Ax. You don’t want to know how many mistakes you helped the government hide from the public.” Everett coughs, and I see the pain radiating through his face. "The bar fight … it was set up by Phillips. I made you sit where you were sitting because I was under his threatening orders. I went to the bathroom at the precise minute I was told to go, and that’s why you were the only one standing there after the fight was over. What was anyone supposed to believe?” Everett swallows hard, staring directly at Axel’s face with remorse. How can anyone forgive that kind of deception, though? I’ll be asking myself the same question for the rest of my life, I think.
For a minute, I see a weakness in Axel's eyes, but it doesn't last nearly as long as I thought it might. "You wanted to see the results from Darkest Perception?” Axel asks Everett. "Here it is—the plan we arranged if everything went to hell. The plan you came up with makes sense now. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself after all this either.”
"I’m sorry, Ax. I’m sorry. I’m fucked up because of my old man. He brainwashed me to believe what I was doing was right. It wasn’t. I know that now. I just wanted a normal life, and I wasn’t allowed to have that. I promise you, this isn’t what I wanted. I’m so sorry,” he cries out between gasping breaths. "Isabelle—”
"I’m sorry too—I’m sorry I was dumb enough to fall for this shit,” Axel says, cutting him off. Before he could finish his sentence, Axel releases the trigger, putting a hole through Everett's head. My breath lodges in my throat, and I'm not sure I know how to continue breathing while digesting the scene around me.
Axel drops the weapon and falls backward, hitting his back against the cell door. He leans his head down to his knees and runs his fingers through the sides of his hair. "He was my only family. For years, since we were teenagers. He was in foster care with me. Phillips put him there to find a soulless body? I’ve been a part of this damn freak show for probably ten years now.” Axel's words are mumbling together, and I can hardly understand what he's trying to say, ask, or who he's questioning.
As weak as I am from the sonic waves, I manage to push myself up to my knees and crawl across the space, reaching for Axel as I wrap my arms around his neck. "Axel." I have nothing to say. There are no words worthy of making a statement.
He reaches around me, sliding his hand into his pocket and pulling out the bobby pin he took from my hair. "Can you unlock the cuffs?" I pick the lock with an unsteady grip, so it takes me a couple of minutes to focus on what I'm doing, but I finally free the lock and remove the cuffs. "Let's go."
I take another look at Everett, trying to understand how my knowledge and assumptions went from a hundred to zero in a matter of minutes. I've done well, adjusting to situations faster than most people are capable of, but this feels like a heavy tar sinking through my bones, holding me still while I convince myself this is real. How the hell could any of this be real?
"I don't understand," I say to Everett. His chest stopped moving a long minute ago. I know he's gone, but I didn't think fast enough to ask him why, even though Axel did. Why us?
Axel pulls himself up against the bars and takes my arm. "Let's go."
The cell door was never locked after Everett entered. "What about Chuck?" I ask Axel.
"He told me to take care of myself when I took off to find you. He said people are placed into circumstances, unknowingly accepting a life sentence for something they never wanted,” he says. "I obviously don't know anything, though.”
"We're the same," I tell him. "I suppose you know that now."
We make our way into the alley, spotting a glow from the sun draping around the corner of the street.
Yeah, a life full of lies was what I was destined for. "This is why I was on the brink of being homeless."
"I spent my days looking for a place to sleep after I turned eighteen too," he says.
He seems dazed and out of it, probably like the way I'm feeling. I don't know how long it will take for my brain to process everything that went on in the last day, but right now, I'm in shock. So much shock. "Why did your parents do what they did? Do you know?”
"They were teenagers who tried to make it on their own. From what I heard, they had been arrested several times for dealing and abusing drugs. Child protective services threatened to take me from them many times, but they held it together just long enough so I could remember the life they gave me. They must have figured it was better to leave me with the memory of their deaths than trying to find me safety first.”
The chill of winter strikes me as if I didn't notice I was only wearing a thin dress. "What's your next move?" I ask him.
"What's yours?" he replies.
"Running." It's not like I have another option. This is all I've been doing for years. I just didn't realize I had been running in circles, and Dr. Phillips was the ringleader. "
Axel runs his fingers through his hair and then down the side of his face, touching dried spots of blood. He pulls his hand away, seeking evidence, then looks over at me. "If you didn't hate the shit out of me, I'd say I would run with you, but I'll assume that you won’t be giving me that type of invitation."
An immediate response floats to the tip of my tongue, but I keep my mouth closed, considering all things before I tell him my honest thoughts.
There doesn't seem to be any way I could trust him after he manipulated me into being his bait. However, he never turned me in, even though he had plenty of opportunities to do so. I would have chosen my life over his and probably turned him in, which makes him a better person than me.
There were feelings involved, but they were based on his lies.
"I don't know how to see you now," I tell him. "I don’t know you, Axel.”
"This is me," he says. "Stripped down to the bone with nothing."
"I don’t think I can—”
"Isabelle. I knew you before you became this woman. I was innocent before I became this man. Please, let me show you.”
"Axel—” I don’t know how to walk forward with him and feel like it’s a good decision.
"I can’t fake this,” he says, pulling me into him. His hands cradle my face, and the comfort is still there. It shouldn’t be there. I should be uncomfortable. I shouldn’t feel anything.
"Yes, you can fake this,” my voice cracks.
His lips touch mine lightly as he presses his nose against mine. "Not when I’m in this much pain. I was lied to, too. I know what you’re feeling and thinking; I deserve to
be dead like Everett after what I did to you, but selfishly, I’d rather spend every minute necessary proving to you who I truly am inside.” His lips return to mine, and I feel a weakness seep throughout my limbs. I should be smarter than this. I don’t understand how I can feel so much for him, yet fear what’s in his head at the same time.
"I don’t know what to think,” I whisper. It’s honest.
"Isabelle, every time I touched you, it was because I couldn’t stop myself. I know I shouldn’t have looked at you the way I did, kissed you, or anything of that nature. I was fighting hard against breaking every rule, knowing how it could end, but you made me forget what I was fighting for.” His hands cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes with desire.
"I don't trust you, Axel,” I mutter.
"I don't blame you, but here,” he says, handing me the SD card. "Maybe this will help.” I look down at the card and close my fingers over it.
"Thank you,” I tell him, softly, "but I never trusted you, even before Everett took the card.”
"Maybe that’s what attracted me to you,” he says.
"Obviously, I have an attraction to trouble, so it would make sense, I guess.”
"So, what’s the problem?” he asks, gently.
"We're poisonous to each other,” I tell him, knowing both of us were bred to pluck thoughts from the human brain without leaving a trace of existence behind. As Everett said, we were manipulated to basically kill each other, but we came out on the other side still standing. I can’t help but think about how dangerous that makes us.
"We may be poisonous to each other because we can get inside of each other’s heads, but doesn’t that benefit eliminate the need for trust?” he asks. Axel has cornered me with my own fears and thoughts, and he's right.
"I’m leaving the country, Axel.”
"I want to go with you,” he says, pleadingly.
"Where I’m going—there are rules that must be followed," I tell him. "You’ll also need a good fake ID.”
"I have plenty of ID’s. Don’t worry about that,” he says with a wink. "Seriously though, if you let me go with you, I’ll follow your rules, Isabelle. It’s the least I can do."
I press my hand against his chest, making sure he understands I’m not just running away to hide again. "They aren't my rules that have to be followed.”
Seventeen Years Ago
Like so many nights, Dad comes into my bedroom and sits down on the edge of my bed as he tucks me in tightly. "I love you, sweetie, and in case I don’t see you tomorrow, remind me of what you can never forget.”
"Kulao,” I tell him, as I have since I was old enough to understand the meaning.
"Very good, Isabelle.” He leans forward and gives me a gentle kiss on my forehead.
I try to smile, but it hurts my heart when he reminds me of the same thing every night. "Why do you always have to say goodnight as if you’re leaving for forever, Dad? Nothing has changed, and everything seems like it’s okay and always will be.”
"Sweetie, you never know what tomorrow might bring, right?” he reminds me.
I know what he means, but I have a hard time wrapping my head around the thought. "I know. People might find out you’re hiding Mom. It’s just been so long. I doubt anyone is looking.”
"We do what we must to protect the people we love, Isabelle. Your mother rescued me, and for that, I will forever protect her, and you, as well.”
I pull the covers up a little higher. "What if I disappear someday?” I ask him.
He narrows his eyes at me and smirks. "My Isabelle—you are such an adventurous little girl with the world at your toes—I wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if you followed your heart too far someday, but—” he pokes my nose, "I would prefer it if I don’t have to worry about you disappearing from my life too.”
"I won’t disappear, Dad. We’re all each other has—you, me, and mom. We have to stick together.”
Dad smiles weakly as if he has secrets I still don’t know—ones I’ll probably never know. "Right, but you know if that ever happens, and one of us goes missing—”
"Kulao,” I tell him again.
"Kulao will make it so we’ll never have to worry about losing each other, Isabelle.”
His words and explanations give me the reassurance I need to fall asleep. Mom and Dad have always been honest about our situation—their secret. I suppose everyone has secrets that can cause trouble, so a backup plan is always necessary—or so Dad tells me.
30
Axel
"Thanks for paying the way here," I tell Isabelle with a side-long glance. "I didn't realize your idea of running was to an island three days away."
"Any time. Maybe next time you take in a ‘criminal’ who's on the run, you should learn to hide your wallet better when you're sleeping with the bait."
I knew she took the cash from my wallet. I let her take it, hoping she’d find a way out. It was becoming clear that there wouldn't be a good ending to either of our stories and if money got her a little farther than it got me, I wanted her to have it. It was all dirty money, anyway. "I guess you have a thing or two to teach me then," I tell her.
"I guess so," she says, walking toward the entrance of whatever hotel this is.
"Your rule one—no stealing—needs to apply to you too," I tell her. "Oh, and you'll need to share the rest of these rules with me while you're controlling your klepto ways."
"I wasn't planning on stealing anything else from you," she says with a smirk. Before walking through the front door to the hotel we were dropped off at, Isabelle turns around and presses her hand against my chest. "Kulao—this island we're on—it’s not a vacation spot. We're officially off the grid. This place is for people who have run away from something. No one is who you think they are, though I suspect we have a better chance of figuring them out than they have at figuring us out."
Throughout our four flights, two ferry rides, and a prop plane island hopper, not once was the name of the island mentioned. I thought it would be harder to let go of the control I've maintained for most of my adult life, but I decided not to ask her questions. I followed instead of leading the way. She evidently had this little backup plan because she knew exactly where she was going. Giving up control, even after just a few days, has felt like the world has been lifted from my shoulders.
"How long have you known about this place?" I ask her. "I had no clue a location like this existed."
Her lips turn into a sinuous grin. "Somewhere between a short while and a long while," she responds with a sigh.
She opens the glass doors to the hotel's entrance, and I follow her inside, then up to the front desk where an older woman cloaked in Polynesian attire waits for us. "Welcome," she says with a raised brow as she examines both of us with curiosity.
"Checking in. Not checking out," Isabelle says, handing over her ID, cash, and my credit cards. "You need to empty your pockets." Isabelle puts her hand out in front of me, waiting for my wallet.
For some reason, I couldn't feel less concerned about handing over everything that identifies me, so I reach into my back pocket and place my wallet on the counter.
In return, the woman hands us two sealed envelopes. "Everything you need is in there."
Isabelle takes the envelopes from the woman's hands and heads toward the set of doors opposite the ones we walked in through. They lead out to what looks like endless miles of white sand and clear blue water. Huts line the shore, and if that's where we're living right now, it'll be fine by me. Simple is all I want, and this is more like paradise.
"People live here?" I ask her.
She leads us to a hut, unlocks the door with a key she slipped out from one of the envelopes and opens the door into a hotel-style studio. "This is temporary," she says while closing the door behind me. "We'll be assigned jobs, earn an income, and find permanent housing. It won't be far away from here, though, because this island is only three miles from one side to the other.
"Okay," I tell her
, unsure of what else there is to say.
She pulls out paperwork from both envelopes and compiles them. "Okay, so from here on out, if anyone asks your name, you are Andrew Fisher from Sandy, Utah. You were a freelance software engineer who developed some unique technology that Amazon purchased for millions. However, here, you will be lifeguarding at the second guard post, Monday through Friday, eight to four, earning fifteen U.S. dollars an hour." I close my eyes to wrap my head around what she's saying, and it takes me a minute to understand she's reading me my new identity. "You don't have to remember anything but your name and job because no one will ask you what you did. They all know it would be a lie."
"Wow. Okay, then. It's a good thing I know how to swim, I guess." I can't help but laugh at how ridiculous this is. Then again, we're alive. So, there's that. "Why bother labeling us if everyone knows it's a lie?"
She shrugs. "I didn't make the rules. All I know is, we have new identities, and jobs to make a living here. Oh yeah, and no one wants to kill us and stuff."
"Then, who are you?" I'm intrigued to hear who she is and was, according to these records.
She flips through a couple of the papers until she finds the one she's looking for. She smiles before reading it. "I'm Tracy Ales from Taos, New Mexico. I was an exotic dancer who got rich off a frequent client who tipped in the thousands. I will be bartending at the Tiki Lounge for a job three nights a week, earning two dollars an hour, plus tips. How nice."
Laughter pours out of me, nearly knocking me off my feet as I drop down into a straw-woven chair. After a long couple minutes of belting out therapeutic laughter at the hilarity of this situation, I grip my stomach, feeling a strain. "Sorry, I haven't laughed that hard in … possibly ever. Wait, wait, will you be naked while you bartend?"
"Ha ha," she says, completely unamused.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, you're welcome to dance for me whenever you'd like. I mean, I'd tip you and all, but you stole all my money."
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