Numb

by Isabelle Carey

  The room is mostly dark but early morning sunlight is already starting to penetrate the cracks in the blinds. I glance at the clock displayed on the computer screen that I left on when I finally went to bed. My alarm was scheduled to sound in a little less than an hour.

  I cross the room in three swift strides and open the door, expecting to find one of the patrolling officers standing in the hallway. However, it's not an undercover cop waiting for me—it's Sophia.

  "Sophia," is all I say when I find her standing there, garbed in dark colored civilian clothes. Her hair is not tied up into a bun today but rather, it's down; long, flowing, and glossy. I realize then that this marks the first time I've seen Sophia with her hair down. It's usually up in her customary bun or pulled back into a ponytail. She looks different than ever before, more like a typical citizen than a White Agent. She's even wearing light makeup, giving her a softer, more feminine appearance.

  "Liam," she says as I allow her access into the room. I'm suddenly conscious of my attire and I look down to find that I'm at least decent in a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts.

  I close the door behind Sophia, as she looks around the room, observant like every other White Agent.

  "I hear that you're in charge of the Charlotte Tatum investigation," Sophia states. "And that you're working directly with the Amber Army."

  "You've heard correctly," I tell her, not expecting her to open our conversation in that manner. "Although it's not much of an investigation anymore, as we know for sure that she killed Emerson." I speak those words but of course I don't believe them.

  "I remember the night that Ramos and I visited the Tatum home to arrest Scarlett Tatum for betraying the agency through love," Sophia says quietly as she turns to face me. I stare at her, wondering what she's doing here. I haven't seen her in days and then she happens to show up out of the blue. Did Ramos send her to spy on me? I don't know why but I'm suspicious about her sudden appearance. I shouldn't be. She's still my partner and I trust her but I can't fight the qualms bubbling inside my mind. I'm starting to think impulsively and not logically, which can potentially be a bad thing.

  "I was supposed to accompany him," I remember that day as well. I recall the torrential downpour that evening. I was staring out the window at the rain sliding down the glass as Ramos informed me that Sophia would be going in my stead. At the time, I came to the conclusion that it was because I was still a fairly new senior agent. But the more I thought about, I finally realized the truth. I didn't need to be present when Scarlett was arrested.

  "You were," Sophia states softly and although her face doesn't betray any emotion whatsoever, I detect a hint of something like nostalgia in her voice, as if she's almost looking back on our collective memories fondly. I don't know if my assessment is correct though, because lately I've been so disconnected from my ability to read people, to see behind the façade that the Purge creates. I don't even know what's going inside of my own head anymore, let alone the minds of others.

  "But I ascertain that you're not here to discuss the past," I assume.

  Sophia shakes her head. "No, I'm not. I'm here to tell you why you haven't seen me in a while. I'll be brief because I have to leave before the Purge is dispensed."

  I stare at her, all ears, waiting for her to continue. She returns my gaze, her face hollow. She falls silent for a while, expecting me to say something. When she finally realizes that I'm not going to speak, she continues.

  "As of yesterday, I am no longer your partner," Sophia reveals somewhat casually.

  I gaze at her without blinking. I had a feeling that she was going to say something like that. It's been obvious to me lately that she was no longer my partner. "Did you resign?" I ask, although I don't think that she did. Sophia is a lot like me; she would never resign unless something devastating happened to her—like finding out if some of the Superior Agents, like Ramos, were corrupt or something like that.

  Sophia shakes her head in an initial response to my inquiry. "No, I did not resign," she replies verbally. "I was asked to join the Amber Army and I accepted the offer."

  My mind explodes with what I deem to be happiness upon hearing Sophia's words. For a fleeting second, I want to cheer for her but I quickly suppress that thought and destroy its lingering taint. Me cheer? That's unheard of. I am not a lawbreaker. And I'm definitely not a cheerer. I would never dream about doing something like that. I am an emotionless White Agent and not a rebel who's full of emotions.

  "You start your training today?" I question her by way of congratulations.

  "Yes," Sophia tells me. "I have to report to a training facility near the northern ruins. I didn't know that's where the Amber Army trains. I always assumed it was inside of the Core."

  "Me too," I agree. I think about what she said for a moment as my mind processes her words. The northern ruins touch upon a lingering memory that I have of my father. Once again, Project Lightning enters my head and I consider a connection between the mysterious science experiment and the Amber Army. Could Project Lightning have something to do with the soldiers that answer directly to the Chancellor and protects our island?

  "I've heard that the Amber Army is considering you as well."

  "Yes, they are, but only after I capture Charlotte Tatum."

  "That's why you're staying here?" Sophia asks. "I went by your apartment last night but you weren't home. I spoke to Ramos and he informed me that you were here. Why are you here? To keep a close eye on Charlotte's younger sister?"

  "Yes and no," I reply. "I don't think that Abigail Tatum will become a criminal like her sisters; however, the Purge doesn't have a great effect on her. It may be a matter a days or years perhaps before the gas stops working on her period. But mostly I'm here because I know that Charlotte is going to come here. She's going to attempt to rescue her sister and when she does, we'll have her."

  "I know you'll capture her," Sophia says to me and none of her words give away any feelings that might be flaring up during this last hour of the previous Purge dose. "If any White Agent can do it, it would be you. You're the youngest one we've ever promoted to the field."

  I don't know what to say after she showers me with apathetic support. I have to watch my tongue right now when I'm so vulnerable. I consider telling Sophia about the evidence I've discovered, about how the vector scanners of BioLife had been tampered with the day that Emerson was shot. But I don't tell her anything. I don't even tell her goodbye when a few minutes later, she takes her leave so that I can get dressed and prepare myself to receive today's dosage of the Purge.

  When I close the door behind her, I wonder if I will ever see her again. But I don't dwell upon this because I have more pressing matters at hand, like how in the world I'm going to get Charlotte Tatum off the hook for a crime she did not commit?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Charlotte

  Currently Listening To: "Titanium" by David Guetta featuring Sia

  World State Orphanage.

  It took the scary attack from the previous night for me to finally make my decision. After Lilly's house had been breached by a stranger, neither one of us could sleep. Lilly called Aidan, woke him up, and he and his younger brother, Elijah, came over to visit. I felt a great deal safer with the two boys over, although I didn't think that Aidan, and especially Elijah, couldn't do a great deal to protect Lilly and me. No offense to Aidan though.

  While Elijah snoozed on Lilly's couch, Aidan spent the next few hours helping Lilly and I devise a plan for me to infiltrate the orphanage. Throughout the discussion, Lilly constantly asked me if I was sure that I would still be up for the task after what happened. And I constantly told her that I would be fine. I had to get to Abigail as soon as possible. I had to talk to her and I had to scope out the facilities of the orphanage and figure out how I can break Abigail out of there. If everything goes according to plan today, then I will feel confident that I can pull off an escape mission there. Getting my father out of BioLife will be an extremely diff
icult task but if I have Abigail by my side, perhaps we could pull it off.

  But we'll leap that hurdle when we get there. For now, I need to focus on playing a new role, a fictional woman by the name of Chloe Kent.

  I try not to think about the attack by the alleged supporter of the Entity, as I ride in the backseat of a taxicab that's steadily approaching the front gates of World State. I remember the plan and every aspect of my false life that my friends and I created this morning with our surprisingly seasoned imaginations. I'm used to creating false personas as a Messenger. Lilly is an actress, so she's spends the majority of her time in character for a particular movie. But Aidan was the one who surprised me the most. He came up with most of the ideas from where I was from, my heritage, and other background information. It was like he was used to inventing new identities and I had the feeling that there was more to him than meet the eye, although I've never been good at reading people.

  I recall the plan. I'm a new teacher, coming to teach the students history—my least favorite subject—to the middle school grade students. Aidan hacked into the World State files and learned when Abigail takes her history class. Skillfully, Aidan also applied for the vacant teaching post for me and offered me the job all in a few simple keystrokes. By the time my "paperwork" funnels its way up to the dean of the orphanage's academy and she realizes that she never interviewed me; I'll be long gone today of course. The boy is talented and even now I wonder where Aiden learned his craft.

  I also wonder briefly what he sees in me. He constant compliments about how pretty I am cause me to feel weird and wonderful at the same time. I've never met anyone like him before. Even the SAFE rebels I have met before have never mentioned anything about my physical appearance. I think about the novels I've read and how female characters felt whenever a member of the opposite sex called them beautiful. I suppose my feelings mirror theirs, even though they understand them a lot better than I do.

  I admire Aidan for saying those things to me but I wish that the boy from the monorail could say those words to me. It would mean a great deal more to me then because I admire him in a different way than Aidan. I think I would say that the White Agent boy is cute. No handsome. No . . . Something more than handsome . . . .

  All thoughts inside my mind cease fire though when I glimpse the orphanage looming in the distance. I swallow hard, my saliva dry and chalky like liquid Purge. It's almost show time. I dispel all traces of fear from inside of me, replacing it with faith. I know I can do this. I've done stuff like this before and I trust that Aidan has my back.

  The taxi drives past the restaurant that was my vantage point while I scouted the orphanage. I know parked somewhere along the curb out front is Aidan's motor home. I can't see it of course because it's cloaked but I trust that's it's there. If not, then my mission is doomed from the start.

  The taxi slows to a crawl as we near the gates. A delivery truck is stopped in front of us, a few security guards checking the trailer for its content. I watch with disinterest from the backseat. I remember the lack of security here and it still bothers me. I consider turning back but it's only a fleeting thought. I can't turn back. Abigail's fate depends upon it.

  The taxi sits idle behind the truck for a few minutes. Anxiety spreads across my skin, giving me goosebumps. I will the truck to move on so I can get this show on the road. The longer I have to wait, the tenser I become.

  I'm sweating now and my fake fingerprints are starting to peel away from the tips of my digits. I rub my fingers together to press the sticky substance back against my skin. The prints are wearing almost like gloves belong to a dead man. I'm not wearing his actual fingers but rather replicas that Lilly acquired for me on the black market. I don't know what type of material they're made out of but the adhesive had held together perfectly up until now. I curse myself for perspiring.

  Finally, the truck ahead rumbles through the gates, having past whatever inspection the guards had in place. Now, it's my turn.

  I brush the reddish brown strands of the wig that perched on my head, concealing my bushy mane. I was supposed to have blue contacts but my eyes decided to reject them this morning. Eighty drops of ophthalmic solution later and my eyes no longer look like two bloody orbs, the eyes of people heavily dependent upon Alacrity. Hopefully no one will notice the difference in eye color between me and my credentials. And if someone does notice, I hope that he or she assume I'm wearing hazel contacts. Maybe I'm being paranoid but I don't like going into the orphanage wearing my true eyes.

  I shift in my seat and nearly rip the charcoal gray pencil skirt I borrowed from Lilly. I felt bad for having to borrow another outfit from her. Hopefully this one will make it back without permanent blood stains. To make my conscience feel a little better, I allowed her to accompany Aidan this morning. She wanted to infiltrate the orphanage with me but I wouldn't have that.

  The taxicab halts upon the signal from one of the guards. The driver in front rolls down the window and watches two guards approach the car with an emotionless expression. He doesn't have the same fear that I can taste in my sweat. I work harder to rid myself of that fear. Fear causes mistakes. I need to stay calm and keep a level head. But it is hard to when the music there keeps rising in volume due to nerves.

  "State your business here," one of the guards addresses my driver tonelessly. From my perspective, he looks like a blurry pug. His nose has been broken at least once and I notice the gray uniform of a patrolman.

  The driver glances at me. I see his eyes flicker briefly towards the rearview mirror, before cutting back to the cop. "I'm dropping her off," he says.

  The cop regards me then and I put on my best indifferent face. My cheeks are already stiff with makeup so it's not difficult to hold my face with a rigid stare.

  "State your business," the cop repeats, this time to me after the driver lowers my window.

  "My name is Chloe Kent," I tell him, disguising my true voice with a higher pitched one. "I'm a new professor here."

  The cop eyes me, sweeping over my blue cardigan where a lapel pin of a butterfly is affixed to my left chest. The pin is more than meets the eye but of course the guard doesn't know that.

  "Interesting choice of jewelry," he says.

  He's referring to the pin and an icy sensation touches my very soul. There's no way he knows that the pin is how Aidan and Lilly are monitoring my progress. There's no way. But then, I quietly breathe a sigh of relief when I realize that he's referring to the butterfly emblem itself. Then, a silent curse quickly replaces the sigh of relief. How could I have been so stupid? Butterflies are the symbols of SAFE, so to this guy I probably look like a rebel right now.

  This mission is already starting off on the wrong foot.

  "Step out of the car," the cop orders me.

  I do as I'm told. This is a normal procedure for anyone entering the complex, but still I'm perspiring profusely, glistening in the morning sunlight.

  "Credentials." Wow. This guy has no personality whatsoever. He's very blunt, even for Paradise's standards.

  I hand over my ID. He swipes it after his partner offers him a handheld reader.

  I wait with bated breath. Even though I trust Aidan and know that his tech skills are legendary, I still can't stop the feeling of dread, creeping along my skin, telling me that something will go wrong today. But of course, I'm not listening so does that make me reckless?

  A few tense moments pass and then the cop returns my credentials. "Everything checks out," he tells his companion."Let's run a vector scan." He faces me. "It's standard procedure ma'am."

  I nod but don't say a word. My throat is too dry to say anything anyways. This is the part I've really been dreading. Making a fake ID is one thing but Aidan swore to me that he can manipulate a vector scanner. That is unheard of to me. Aidan has to be hands down the most talented hacker I have ever met. If this works . . . .

  Vector scanner in hand, the cop waves it around my body like those metal detector wands popular in the past. I
hold my breath as though I'm underwater. I can feel my heart banging against my chest as my pulse quickens.

  I experience a slight stinging discomfort as the scanner passes over my invisible vector field. It's almost like a static shock, only a little less charged but lasting much longer.

  "Something's wrong," the cop says suddenly, eyes glued to the screen of the scanner.

  Oh crap. They know. Aidan couldn't pull it off. They know. Theyknowtheyknowtheyknowthey know . . . . What am I going to do? Think Charlotte.

  The cop shakes the scanner as though it's broken. "Allow me," the second cop says.

  The first cop hands the scanner over. The second cop looks it over. "It's frozen," he accesses, holding down a button above the display screen. "I'll warm boot—"

  He stops speaking without warning and simply stares at the scanner. The first cop's discharger pistol gleams at me from its holster. If worse comes to pass, I might can shoot my way out of here and take the taxi driver hostage until he gets me somewhere safe. Not a good plan but it might be the only one I have if that scanner reveals my true identity.

  "It's showing confirmed," the second cop alerts the first one. "I don't know what happened but it's working now. She's Chloe Kent, the new history professor here."

  I've never felt so relieved in my life. And just like that, I'm in. Aidan is the man.

  I have to remain at the gate until the school sends someone to escort me to the right building. The taxi leaves after I remind the driver of the right time to come back and fetch me.

  I wait for about five minutes for my escort, who arrives in a mini automobile with a canopy. Golf cart I think it's called. He's a teacher I suppose but he never speaks to me during the brief ride to the building designated as the school. I sit quietly next to him, preparing myself for the next part of this mission. I also silently thank Aidan for pulling off a spectacular feat back there. Somehow the scanner did not register my vector to Charlotte Tatum but rather to my false persona. Aidan is a very valuable asset for me to have right now.