by E. R. Arroyo
“Tell me about her, Nicolette.”
Nicolette opens a folder and lays it gingerly on the table. “She has excessive head trauma, resulting from multiple incidents. Some dating years back and others as recent as a few days old. We also found extensive foreign matter surgically placed inside her brain. It would take a long, risky surgery to remove.” I notice she didn’t call me 1206, but she didn’t call me Cori, either.
“Fresh stitches on her neck, we believe from the removal of a security chip from Antius. The site and size of the incision, though crude, support this theory.”
“That’s correct,” I interject, though I doubt she was looking for a reply. She’s simply giving a medical report.
“She was treated for exposure with a low dosage of antibodies and responded remarkably well in recovery. Her system has been cleared and declared uninfected.”
“Thank you,” Henry says. “Anything else?”
“Evidence of two broken ribs, but they’ve healed. A hairline fracture above the right eye. Also healed.” She closes the folder abruptly. “Do you really want to hear it all?”
“No, thank you. That will do.”
Nicolette dismisses herself.
“Can I see my friend? Is he okay?” I try my best to keep my voice calm, lest they decide I need another cold shower.
“A little while ago, you said a name. Could you repeat it?”
“Cori.”
“There was more than that.”
“Corinne Cole.” It feels weird to say the words. Today was the first time in ten years I’ve said them. I feel like I’m not her anymore, and I shouldn’t be saying her name.
“How did you hear this name?”
I look up at him, confused. “It’s my name. I was named after my mother’s great aunt.”
The door bursts open and a man stands there. He’s tall and gray-haired, and his light brown eyes are so intense they pierce my heart. His knuckles turn white around the doorknob, and his chest rises and falls rapidly. The roundness of his set jaw feels familiar. And I can’t help coming back to his eyes, the intensity there. I get the sensation of looking in a mirror when I realize...those are my brown eyes.
Those are my father’s brown eyes.
I rise from my chair and back myself into the corner opposite the door. “Impossible.”
“Corinne?” His voice is tender; it’s gentler than I’ve ever heard it. Gentler than the time I almost got us caught because of my twisted ankle. More gentle than when he told me we had to leave my mother’s body because there was nothing we could do for her.
“Impossible.” I saw him die. I saw the blood, the stab wound. I saw the claw marks, the torn flesh. I look at the man before me and find scars up and down both sides of his neck. I did not see my father die, I saw him almost die.
He steps toward me, and Henry rises. “Anthony, wait. She’s unstable.”
“She’s my daughter.” He takes another step toward me, and I plant both hands against the wall to still the shaking. Tears fill my eyes and begin to brim as he closes the gap between us and reaches for me.
I press myself as far into the corner as my body can go. “Daddy?”
He leaves his hand extended between us, and I’m glad he doesn’t grab me. I’m not ready to touch a dead man--my father who isn’t dead at all.
“It’s me, Corinne. It’s Dad.” I hunker away from him, still unsure how to process, how to feel, how to...let him wrap his arms around me. “It’s Dad, Corinne.”
I take a tiny step toward him and, sensing my hesitation, he slowly reaches for me. When his hand wraps around my shoulder, tears well up in his eyes, and I lean into him, letting him embrace me. The two of us sob together, squeezing each other tighter and tighter as minutes pass.
When we catch our breaths, he pulls back and kisses my forehead. “I thought you were dead. They brought me here unconscious, but said you were gone when they got to me. I looked everywhere. I was looking for a body. I should have known you would survive. I should have known.” He embraces me again. “I’m so sorry.”
He lets me go and I notice more men have joined us, Henry standing next to the table and two others at the door, their hands on their weapons.
“Let’s get you out of here.” He walks toward the door with an arm around my shoulder. “Let us through,” he orders the men, and without a moment’s hesitation, they move aside.
Dad takes me down the hall in the other direction. “You must be starving.”
“I haven’t had a decent meal in ten years.” He smiles at me. At the end of the hall, we enter a common area and people stand to face him as we pass, with their hands at their sides.
A young guy opens a door for us, nodding at my father, and my father nodding back. “Sir,” the boy says, reminding me of how Titus addressed Nathan. Respectfully.
Dad sits me at a table and storms through another door, his voice too muffled to make out. When he returns minutes later, he carries a tray of food and sets it on the table. He sits across from me and hands me a fork and a knife.
“What is all this? Where does it come from?”
“We grow the vegetables here in Mercy. The fruit comes from our sister colony, Delilah. We get the meat from The City.” The animals. Tyce’s people must be hunters. They said they trade with Mercy, and this explains why. The animals only seem to live in The City.
“Is it safe?”
He smiles warmly. “Of course it is.”
After I shovel a few bites of amazing tasting food in my mouth, I set my fork down. He snaps his fingers and a woman across the room lifts her head.
“Water, please.” He says it nicely, but she obeys it like a command. Who is my father?
I drink the water she brings, and clear my throat. I pick a piece of meat from my teeth and set it on the plate. “Can I see my friend?”
“Soon.”
Chapter Eighteen
Soon comes a few hours later. I sit next to my father on a soft piece of furniture like the one in the house we stayed in. My father calls it a “sofa.” Two men escort Dylan into the room and sit him next to me. He has a fresh bruise on his cheek and stitches where his chip used to be. I hope he convinced them he’s not a spy.
“You okay?” I whisper, laying my hand over his.
He tries to smile.
“He’s a little medicated right now,” Dad explains.
“I’m fine.” Dylan looks me over.
“I’m okay, too.” I smile, rubbing his hand with my thumb. He breathes a sigh of relief, and I throw my arms around him, burying my head in the crook of his neck. His arms feel amazing and warm, and I squeeze him like I’m afraid to let go. I am afraid to let go. Bad things happen when I do.
My father clears his throat, and I blush as I pull from Dylan’s embrace. Twenty-four hours ago I was practically an adult, out in the wild with Dylan. Now I’m a teenage girl with a boy who hasn’t met my father.
“Dad, this is Dylan. Dylan, this...” His eyes grow wide. “Is my father.” They both rise, and Dad extends his hand to Dylan, who looks at it awkwardly before extending his own. Dad shakes twice and releases.
“Alive?”
“And well.” Dad sits back down, as does Dylan. I feel trapped between them. They sit on the edge of the sofa facing each other, and I’m not sure I exist anymore.
“What is this place?”
“This is Mercy. Part of a system of colonies called Refuge.”
“There are more?” I ask.
“Several.” All this time I thought I would be lucky to find a single civilization. But there are several. A new hope springs into my heart, and I can’t explain the feeling that overtakes me.
“The people here, they respect you. They treat you like their leader.”
He nods, smiling. “Observant. I am the chosen leader of all of Refuge. I live in Mercy because it’s my favorite and centrally located.”
Dylan shifts forward in his seat. “The men who...questioned me. They seemed like military.�
��
“I command a number of armies. With enemies like Antius, we need them.”
“Armies?” I ask.
“Yes. I hear you are no stranger to armies yourself.”
I shudder, remembering my association with them. I tell myself I was just surviving, and that isn’t a part of who I am.
“So you have an entire army at your disposal?”
Father sits up straighter. “Disposal? No. At my aide? Absolutely.”
I look over at Dylan, realizing something more can come of this. That this isn’t just about escaping and finding a new home anymore. It’s not about being rid of Nathan while letting Nathan continue to hurt people.
There was a time I didn’t even think it was possible to save myself, much less Dylan, too. And I never would have dreamed it could be possible to save the others.
“Dad, we have to go back for the others. All those people. Can we save them?”
“You want to go back to Antius? After everything we’ve been through.” Dylan and I are alone in a small bathroom.
“I never considered...I never even would have thought. But all those people. If we can help them, we have to try. How can we run away and leave the others to suffer? To die.” I never knew I felt this way. Or maybe I didn’t until now. Those people are my family, too. Just as much as Dylan is. It’s Nathan I hate, not the innocent civilians in his colony. They deserve somewhere safe to live, where the people looking out for them are honorable. Leaders like my father.
Dylan kisses my forehead and pulls me into his arms. “Then we’ll go. If your father is willing, we’ll go.”
I tiptoe for a kiss, and he bends forward so I can reach, pressing his lips softly against mine. It’s the first time we’ve kissed since The City. And it feels like home.
The room is large and bright. One male and one female leader from each colony sit in chairs forming a large circle. They are more mature, probably forty and up. Their clothes are earthy and look comfortable. Their hairstyles vary, and they are far from uniform. Some of the ladies wear their hair in buns, others ponytails, others loose or braided. Some of the men have shaggy hair that covers their necks, others have it cropped close to the scalp. They are individuals, and they are free to be so.
My dad is among the circle while Dylan and I stand along the wall with a few other younger people. It took two days to assemble the leaders of Refuge for this meeting.
My father stands to address them, and they all quiet down. They do not fear him, they respect him. There’s an incredible difference.
Karen walks in and comes to my side, laying a tender hand on my shoulder. She gives a warm smile. She’s been sharing her room with me.
I whisper to her, “They’re not going to listen to me. They don’t even know me. They won’t trust me.”
“It doesn’t matter who you are. Right now, it only matters who your father is.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “They’ll listen.” Karen takes a seat next to Henry before my father speaks.
“Leaders.” Dad dips his head, and they nod back. “We have been called upon to take action against Antius. After discussion with our informants, we believe their words should be considered by the council. Please welcome our guests, Corinne and Dylan.”
I clear my throat as we join my father. I wipe the sweat from my palms, considering how my voice will sound when I address them. “I’m Cori, this is Dylan.”
“Hello,” they say.
“After much discussion with my father.” I point to him so they’ll make the connection, in case they can’t tell by our matching faces. “We would like to propose a rescue mission to Antius.”
An old man clears his throat. “To our knowledge, the citizens of Antius are hostile.”
Dylan squeezes my hand, encouraging me. I plant my feet. “The soldiers are hostile. But there are innocent women and children, and even some men, who I believe need help.”
“And who are you to say this? No one can speak for what happens inside those borders.” A woman this time.
“We lived there. I did for ten years, he did for seventeen.” Gasps all around.
Henry speaks up. “We have declared these two as non-threats, and they will be treated as such.” The members acknowledge him with a nod.
“Why should we be concerned with the citizens of Antius? What makes you think they want to be rescued?”
“They might not.” They murmur and shake their heads. I speak over them, louder. “They might not want to because they don’t know any better. The children are taught there is nowhere else to go, and until recently, even the two of us believed no one else survived the war except savages. The adults seem to know more, but they are so medicated they don’t care. If they are content, it’s by a false sense of security, and the fear tactics of a ruthless leader.”
“What else can you tell us about them? How do they live?”
“Every person has a function, based on testing and aptitudes. If a person fails to meet an aptitude, they are disposed of.”
“Killed? Their own people?”
“Yes,” Dylan answers, and everyone’s eyes shift to him. “Invasive surgeries, mind-altering drugs, and unethical experimentation. And yes, many are killed. Also, the women are bred like animals, so the population grows despite the losses.”
“Disgusting,” a lady says. I realize a moment later that it was Karen.
“How about security and military? If we risk our military resources for these people, we should know what we’re up against.”
Dylan answers first. “Their technology is very advanced, and security is nearly impenetrable.” More murmurs, some scoffs. “But I am an expert in their technology, so I can assist with the breach.”
Deep breaths, and people shift their weight. A few whispers. I look back at my father, and he smiles grimly.
I answer next. “The military is ruthlessly trained in weaponry and combat. They are not as heavily medicated as civilians, and they are killers. I believe you’ve seen the effects of this in previous encounters.” I hate to dig up the wounds of the recent convoy slaughter, but I want them to take this personally. It is personal, to them, to us, and to the kids we grew up with in Antius.
“We will be met with resistance,” my father says. “But we intend to make our primary target a specific building that houses minors. Innocent life is something worth fighting for, and we believe this mission is worth the risk.”
“This is the stance of Mercy?” A black-headed man asks.
“Yes,” Karen and Henry agree.
“We cannot launch an attack against them with the forces of Mercy alone. They outnumber us, and some of our best men were shot and killed by this very colony. We need your help.” My dad thrusts his hands into his pockets. He’s so calm, but his expression is pleading. There’s a passion in his eyes that makes my heart beat faster, and I hold my head a little higher. That’s my father. I’d follow him anywhere.
A boy across the room wipes tears from his cheeks, and I realize I recognize him. That’s the boy that survived the ambush. I lock eyes with him as he wipes away another tear. He looks away and clears his throat.
“We’ll step out and let you deliberate. Let us know if you have more questions. With Dylan’s knowledge of their technology and security measures, and Corinne’s knowledge of their military, I am confident that we can launch an informed and successful attack. My opinion is shared by the leaders of Mercy. Please consider our stance in your decision.” My father leads us to the door and we step into the hallway along with Karen and Henry.
“They don’t like us. This isn’t going to work,” I say as the door closes. I don’t think I gave a very convincing argument because I wouldn’t believe me.
“We’ve done all we can. We gave them the pertinent information. Now we just hope they’ll listen.” Dad stuffs his hands in his pockets, but I can tell from the way he furrows his brows and chews the inside of his lip that he’s worried.
Henry scratches his head. “Surely they’ll have compa
ssion, even if they don’t care about those Antius kids, they have to care about our loss. Our men. Our friends.” Even when he’s speaking from the heart, he’s deadpan. I’m certain this is why they chose him for interrogations.
We wait in the common room by the kitchen. Karen, Henry, and Dylan sit on sofas while my father and I pace opposite sides of the room. I chew on my thumbnail until the cuticle bleeds, and I wipe it off on my pants.
“Will the two of you please sit down and relax?” Karen barks. “You’re making me antsy.”
I look at my father and he grins. We meet in the middle and sit together on a sofa. “Can’t you just make them do it? Aren’t you in charge of this whole place?”
“If I make them, how am I any different than the man you despise?”
“We’ve chosen never to act against the wishes of the majority of our leaders. These people are respected by us and by their respective colonies. We trust them, they trust us. And we all respect your father for not forcing his opinions on us.” Henry admires my father, I can tell. I do as well.
“And I would not be their leader if I tried to.”
I nod, understanding for the first time what freedom is. It doesn’t mean being on your own. That’s only part of it. Real freedom is living and loving with people who mutually respect one another. It’s living without fear.
I’ve learned in two days that there are rules here, and those rules are honored, but they are not meant to restrict the human nature in people. They are simply meant to protect the group as a whole.
“We’d like to speak with the girl,” a lady says. I rise and grab Dylan’s hand. “Just you.” She eyes our hands and I release Dylan.
I walk beside her back to the meeting room with sweat cooling the back of my neck. There’s a knot in my throat so big I don’t think I’ll be able to speak when called on.
“We have a high regard for your father, however we understand his opinion may be swayed because of his relationship with you. Do you feel you have given him all the information necessary to make an educated decision?”