PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  The guards marched over to Owen. Crouching, they loosened the shackles at his hands and feet. He slumped as they lifted him, letting his legs go limp as if all the life had drained from him.

  Echo walked toward me. A rounded silver disc that I didn’t see in his hand before caught the light. Owen murmured as the guards pulled him forward; the tips of his feet dragging helplessly along the floor.

  “I didn’t . . . I swear . . . you mother . . . I would never . . . promise.” Blood and spittle flew from his mouth and he was looking to the floor, but I knew he was talking to me.

  “Promise,” he said over and over again. “Promise. I promise.”

  I didn’t know what to do, except that I had to say something; but what? I certainly couldn’t tell him it was okay; that I forgave him. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I opened my mouth, still unsure of what I was going to say. Owen moaned again. His eyes fluttered and then closed. He slumped even more in the guards arms; so much so that the leftmost archer picked him up like a baby and carried him away.

  “You didn’t have to be so rough with him,” I said when I was sure he couldn’t hear me, wiping my eyes. Casper rubbed my back and squeezed my shoulder. “Where are you taking him?” Casper asked.

  “To the infirmary,” Echo said. “He’s exhausted and more than a little beat up. We’ll put some liquids in him and try to fix what’s broken.” He held the silver disc out to me. “And as for the roughness; I’m afraid it couldn’t be avoided, though I took no pleasure in it.”

  “What is that?” I motioned to the disc.

  “That is as many answers as I’m able to provide for you at the moment. When we captured your friend trying to break into Weathersby, I questioned him; fully expecting him to lie within an inch of his life. But he didn’t. He was truthful with me and, honestly, I found his answers curious.”

  “Yeah, well at least you got some,” I muttered, still not taking the disc. “All I ever got from that boy was lies.”

  “Why don’t you try a little truth on for size then?” He grinned. “This is a glimpsing disc. It’s used to extract thoughts. Time was, the Breakers of old used it for interrogation purposes, but we’ve since developed less intrusive measures for that.”

  “So why’d you use it one Owen then?” Casper asked, the usual lightness gone from his voice.

  “Glimpsing discs are the only method of recording thoughts. Your friend has found himself in a bit of hot water, and I’m afraid the Council of Masons is requiring a record of what’s gone on.”

  “And what is that?” I was tired of questions. I wanted to know why Owen did what he did; why he lied to me, why he saved me, and what side he was really on.

  “See for yourself,” Echo said and pressed the glimpsing disc to my palm.

  “I don’t- does this go into a DVD player?”

  “Not exactly,” Echo smiled. “But you’re new at this, so let me get you started.”

  He made smooth circular motions above the disc in my palm. Slowly, the disc started moving, mimicking the motions of his hands. It tickled as it turned; slowly, and then faster, spinning like it was in a cd player.

  “What do I do?” I asked.

  “Open your mind,” Echo said. “And enjoy the show.”

  I closed my eyes and let my mind go blank; purging it of the stress and questions that had lingered for days. It was easier than I thought it would be actually.

  “Nothing’s happening,” I said, but when I opened my eyes, I saw that I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  I wasn’t in the silver outhouse anymore. Casper and Echo were gone. I-I wasn’t even me anymore. I was Owen, standing in the bright sunshine; surrounded by people. I saw from his eyes, and more than that, I thought from his mind.

  Houses stretched out around me, set in sections that looked like a bunch of villages pushed into one space. I knew it was the Hourglass, and not just from the high walls that seemed to cut off the outside world or the myriad of shops, temples, and farmlands that left it self-sustaining. It was his memories. Owen had lived here all his life. The woman on the corner, she had run the bakery ever since he could remember. Every Sunday, before worship, Owen would walk past the bakery and the woman would sneak him a sliver of lemon cake. The man walking ahead of him, with the broad shoulders and heavy stride; that was his father. And, more than anything in the world, Owen wanted to make him proud. The girl beside him had dark hair and a familiar touch. Her hand was wrapped in his. It was comfortable. She was-

  Suddenly, I was away from there. I was Owen again, but younger, and surrounded by staunch looking men and women in strange black cloaks. A man and woman; Owen’s mother and father stood next to me.

  “Please,” his mother said as tears pooled in her big brown eyes. “There has to be a way.”

  One of the cloaked men raised his hand as if to stop her. “It is a fixed point; written in the stars. You know what that means.”

  “There has to be something!” Owen’s mother screamed. But the cloaked crows turned and walked away.

  That world disappeared around me and, the next thing I knew, I was bent over a table. I, as Owen, was shirtless and there was a searing pain in my back. It hurt like nothing I had ever felt before; like I had swallowed a flaming sword and it was fighting its way out of me.

  Owen’s mother was in front of me. Her brown eyes were red and puffy, and she held my hand tight.

  “It hurts so bad, Momma,” I heard Owen say in a young, tired voice. “I can’t do it.”

  “You can my darling,” his mother said. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You have to. It’s the only way.”

  I thought the pain was going to kill me; that I was going to die trapped in someone else’s body; which was a thought I had never considered before, but then I was gone.

  It was night, and I was in a place like Weathersby, only larger. I had been carted out of my bed, dragged to an empty room and approached by a group of men. I didn’t know any of them, save for one. Edwin James, known as Avalanche. No, not me, I didn’t know him. But Owen did. He had taught Owen since he had got here, to Atlantia, the Weathersby-like facility. He was the man who was going to make sure Owen became every bit the Breaker he could be, every bit the Breaker his father expected of him.

  Avalanche approached him and, in a voice that sounded like rumbling gravel, said, “I have a proposition for you.”

  I was gone again. Now, I was in Crestview, watching a girl sit at the worn feet of a golden statue. She was picking at her nails and pulling at a locket around her neck. She was she was me.

  I remembered this moment. I was bored, feeling hopeless and horribly heartbroken. I wanted, more than anything else, to be back in Chicago, with my father’s arms wrapped around me. But, at that moment, I’d have settled for Owen’s.

  He didn’t know that though, just as I didn’t know he was watching me then. I could feel it, seeing the memory from his angle, from both angles. He took pictures of me, the pictures I would later find on his phone. He was focused, intent on knowing me, on learning about me. It was his mission. Avalanche had made it clear; find the girl, befriend the girl, learn all you can about her, and wait for further instructions. His fingers, my fingers, moved again and another picture snapped. He studied my movements, deciphering what they meant. The way my leg shook said I was restless, unhappy where I was.

  The girl I used to be hung her head and leaned against the statue. If I remembered correctly, this is when I would start to cry. As the tears rolled down my face, Cresta’s face, Owen’s hands dropped. He wasn’t taking pictures of me anymore. He wasn’t thinking of me as a mission or a mark. I was just a girl; a girl in pain. Something other than focus tickled at the back of his mind, and I was gone again.

  The next place I found myself was at my house. Fire had engulfed it. It was gone. I was back and it was the day of the explosion. I was in Owen’s arms, looking with his eyes at my unconscious body.

  Owen threw me in Casper’s arms.

  “How did you-�
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  “Get here out of here!” Owen cut him off. “Don’t stop. Just go!”

  Owen turned back to the fire, wondering if anyone could have survived that; wondering if there was any way my mother was still alive. He dove back into the fire, beating through the scorching heat. His mind was a meld of rage and regret. They had lied to him. Avalanche had tricked him. These were not Breakers he was working for, not real Breakers anyway. He had been made a fool. He had done damage and, in his stupidity, hurt someone he cared about. He had hurt-He had hurt me, and it was tearing him apart.

  He pushed through the flames, reaching the wreckage of my backdoor. He should have known better. He should have been better. His father would have expected better. He jumped through the backdoor and, through his eyes, I saw my mother. She was lying on the floor. Her body was a bloody and broken thing.

  “Mrs. Karr! I’m coming!” Owen screamed. If she moved, I could not tell, and he could not tell. He took a step toward her, thinking that, if he could get her out, maybe he could actually fix this. But, as he knelt down to pick her up, he was hit by something unseen. It felt like knives in my chest, knives in his chest, and then I was gone again.

  ***

  I opened my eyes and found myself back with Echo and Casper. Owen was gone, as were the guards. I felt beside myself and weak. I started to move, trying to step forward, but my legs didn’t cooperate and I fell. Casper caught me, and helped lower me to the floor.

  “Is she okay?” He looked to Echo.

  “She’ll be fine. It can be strange the first time; that’s all,” he answered.

  He wasn’t lying. All of me tingled. It seemed to be crackling with energy; like me being in my own body was too much for it to take.

  “She’ll feel a lot better after a little nap,” he said and, from the corner of my eye, I saw him contort his hands in that familiar way that could only mean one thing. I wanted to stop him, to explain to him how sick I was of people putting me to sleep against my will, but I couldn’t force my mouth to move.

  As sleep settled over me, I wondered if I could get my finger to give him a different message instead.

  I woke back in my room, back in the lavender gown.

  They changed me again?

  A covered dish sat on the dresser next to me. Delicious scents tickled at my nose and sent my stomach to growling. Apparently, there was something about being synthetically set unconscious that made me really hungry.

  I sat up, half surprised that my body actually did what I asked. Uncovering my dinner, I was met with a plump pink salmon steak, steamed asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes, and the best mushroom soup I’d ever had. Okay, so it was the only mushroom soup I had ever had and I was starving, but it was still good enough that I picked the bowl up and slurped it like cereal.

  When I was done licking the bowl, I noticed a letter beside the fish that I had overlooked earlier.

  Opening it, I saw that it was just a bunch of gibberish. Letters smashed together with numbers and weird symbols, it didn’t make any sense. Suddenly though, things started to connect. I saw the letters as more than just nonsense. It was a pattern. It popped out in front of me, like it was written in glowing red while the rest was dull black.

  The numbers after each set of letters meant something. The first number was 9. So, if I counted nine letters back, I would find the first letter of whatever message was hidden within.

  I opened the drawer. Finding a pen and slip of paper, I went to work. Deciphering the code, I leaned up and looked at the finished message in front of me.

  If you can read this, you’re ready. Come to the garden. Fool the dragon.

  -The Girl in the Tower

  Chapter 10

  Fooling the Dragon

  I looked at it for a second, wondering if what I wrote down was even real. Was there really a message in this letter or was it just nonsense? Was this a test and, if it was, did I pass? Who was the girl in the tower, and why on earth was there a dragon in the garden?

  These questions were crazy, but my time at Weathersby told me that things like normal didn’t matter here. And, if I wanted my questions answered, I’d have to do what the letter said; at least to the point of going to the garden.

  I opened the dresser beside my bed and found a whole new wardrobe. And not even the bland brown and white Dahlia-esque stuff they left for me earlier. This stuff was cool. Designer jeans, some hoodies, a couple of pairs of Sketchers; it looked like these guys were finally getting the idea. I changed into my new clothes and slipped out of the room.

  I found the common area dark and empty, save for the lone lights that were also on the first time Casper and I were drug through here. The classroom areas were barren too and, when I pushed outside, I found out why. It was pitch black outside; well into the night. I must have slept all day. But, as I made my way toward the garden in the distance, I learned that wasn’t all. It turned out that no one was inside because everybody, everyone in Weathersby, was in the garden.

  The adults; teachers, custodians, and the like, lined up along the edges of the gigantic garden, watching the student body inside. But what were they doing?

  The garden had been transformed into a maze; its once straight rows of daisies, sunflowers, violets, and, petunias were overgrown and had contorted themselves into massive floral walls. Hedge walls that shot up at least eight feet tall created dozens of intersecting pathways that branched off in a bunch of directions. Fountains stood at each corner of the maze; water bubbling out of stone angels that d heleither harps or arrows, depending on which side you were standing. A stone door arched at the far end, obviously indicating an entrance. It was so rundown with its age marks and vines sprouting flowers and grapes, that it made Hernando’s worn feet look showroom ready.

  Cliques of kids ran back and forth within the maze, darting between the hedge walls and rose bushes. A light mist danced along the edges but got downright thick once it reached the maze.

  “What are you doing out here?” A man asked me as I neared. He was lean and long; so thin that, when he turned to look back at the crowd, I was afraid I might lose sight of him. His dark hair was streaked with gray and ended in curls that rested on his shoulders. His face was gaunt, with cheekbones that you could grate cheese with. “Shouldn’t you be in there having fun?”

  As soon as the word fun left his thin lips, a bright shot of green flew up from somewhere inside the maze, bursting like fireworks as it stretched up into the sky. The crowd- Well, half of it anyway, exploded into loud rounds of applause. “Look, they’ve burst through the Bloodmoon’s defenses. You’re missing the best part,” he smiled.

  His eyes narrowed and then lit up. “Wait, you’re the greenie aren’t you, or the new girl, more appropriately? I’m Dr. Static. I teach Implementation of Prophecy. You’re something of a celebrity around here. Brand new Breakers are strictly theoretical. Well, until now, I suppose. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He stuck a hand out for me to shake, though it was filled with a cinnamon sugar soft pretzel. “Oh!’ He shuffled, stuck it in his mouth, and offered me his hand again.

  “I’m Cresta,” I answered, shaking it.

  “A pleasure,” he said, his words muffled by the pretzel. Cinnamon sugar fell in clumps from his lips.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, wiping a layer of glaze I had picked up from Dr. Static’s hand on the front of my jeans.

  He smiled and ripped out a chunk of pretzel.

  For somebody with a name like a super villain, he sure does seem cheerful.

  “It’s the game; Fooling the Dragon. It’s the biggest night of the semester; counts for a third of your grade. You know, for those who actually go to school here,” he shuffled and made the amendment.

  My mind flashed back to the letter.

  Go to the garden. Fool the dragon.

  Was that what all of this was about, to get me to come to some stupid game?

  “I don’t get it,” I brushed blond bangs out of my eyes. “You guys do
all this; turn the garden into a giant maze just for some game?”

  “Who’s to say the garden doesn’t always look like this? Eyes are overrated in terms of dependability; that’s what I always say,” he grinned.

  I stifled a grimace.

  Stupid Breaker illusions.

  Another flash of light; this one blue and shaped like a tidal wave, appeared at the center of the maze and parted, breaking apart into smaller ripples as it spread. Now, the half of the audience that didn’t applaud the last time; Dr. Static included, started laughing and cheering.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Sensory illusion; looks like a class B one to me too. Very impressive. Breakers create and modify energy known as the shade. It’s not real but, once mastered; the illusionist has the power to make his victims believe it is. My guess is, right now, that Dragon brigade is under the impression that they’re drowning in the wide open sea.”

  “What the hell kind of game is this?” I asked, walking toward the edge where the grownups were standing. A bright yellow line; like glowing painter’s tape, ran in a square across the garden, separating the game from the people watching it.

  “Everyone’s favorite, of course,” Dr. Static answered, still cheering. “It’s fun and educational.” He frowned a little when he realized I still didn’t know what he was talking about. “It’s a prophecy, Greenie; one of our most important prophecies. It’s about the end of the world, and the Breaker who’s responsible for it. The prophecy states that an extremely powerful Breaker; the Bloodmoon, will one day set into motion a series of events that the Earth will never recover from. He’ll crush entire civilizations under his boot and his reign of terror will be like none that’s ever existed before.”

  He pointed from one side of the maze to the other.

  “It’ll only stop when the dragon comes, rips his throat out, and ends the horror once and for all.” He gave me a playful nudge. “You really need to come to my class. This is all first year stuff.”

  He leaned down so that his face was level with mine and pointed toward the maze again. “There are two teams in the game; the Bloodmoons and the Dragons. The members of each team draw cards. One of the Bloodmoons is determined to be the Bloodmoon, or the Destroyer, while one of the Dragons is determined to be the Dragon, or the Redeemer. The members of each team have to keep their figurehead from falling into enemy hands while also trying to capture the opposing team’s figurehead themselves. The team that is able to do that wins the game.” He made mock air quotes and let his voice slip into a dramatic singsong . “And with it, the fate of the world.”