Reawakening

by CM Raymond

  What was curious was that the factories never hired people from the Boulevard, and now, they were sending back a steady paycheck. Hannah was sure that this was some sort of social control on Adrien’s part. Offer the poor enough coin, and they would rationalize anything. But the look on Eleanor’s face told her the truth—she was smart enough to know that the situation was not good.

  Maybe now that Hannah and Ezekiel had come back, and with enough money to buy a damn castle, she could convince Parker to quit.

  But she had bigger fish to fry than her friend’s new job; she needed to get accepted at the Academy.

  A young man with the tiny mouth and eyes spread a little too wide apart greeted them at a desk. He was some sort of student worker. “Lord Girard?” the man said as he rose from the desk.

  “Correct,” Ezekiel said, smiling through his magic altered appearance. “And this is my daughter, Deborah. She’s here to be admitted to the Academy.”

  The boy flushed, half out of embarrassment for the noble man’s presumption. It wasn’t uncommon for the noble to believe that their children were shoe-ins for the Academy. But everybody inside of the school knew that that wasn’t quite the case. Only those who were good enough actually received the chance to join.

  The other half of his flush was due to the fact that the girl standing before him was shockingly beautiful. He had never seen her before, but he could only hope that she would pass the test so he might see her again.

  “Well, yes. I have you right here in my book. To be tested for admissions,” the voice said with his eyes on the girl.

  Ezekiel’s laughter echoed through the empty hall, and in Hannah’s ears sounded altogether foreign, filled with self-importance. “Well, son, I’ve known this place for a long time. Probably for twice as long as you’ve been taking up space in Arcadia. If anyone rejects admission of my daughter, they’re damn fools.”

  The boy working the desk stammered and pushed around the papers in front of him unsure of what to say. “Yes, well, of course…”

  His eyes cut back up to hers. Remembering Ezekiel’s plan, Hannah gave him a smile and a small wink. “Well, my father has more confidence in me than I have in myself,” she said, trying on the proper tone Maddie had taught her. “But I do hope I get to be one of your fellow students. If I pass, will you give me my first tour?”

  The kid turned beat red and looked back down at his papers. Without looking up, he said, “Of course, I’d be glad to. The testing room is this way.”

  Zeke and Hannah followed the blushing upperclassman through the tower. This building had cast a shadow over the city her entire life, but she had never seen the inside of it. And if she didn’t play things right, she might not see the outside again, either.

  “Good luck,” the student said as he dropped Hannah and Ezekiel off outside of the door on the second floor of the Academy.

  “She doesn’t need luck, child. She has magic,” Ezekiel said.

  Hannah reached out and brushed her fingertips along their guide’s arm. “Thank you…”

  “Matthew. It’s Matthew. And I do hope you make it.” The boy forced an uncomfortable smile into his red face.

  Squeezing his arm, Hannah said, “Well, I hope so, too, Matthew. If only for that tour you promised me.”

  The boy turned and rushed away from them, glad to be out of the situation.

  “What the hell was that?” Ezekiel whispered after the boy left them alone.

  “What?” Hannah asked. “You told me I needed to get to know people.”

  “I meant you should strike up conversations, not bat your eyelashes at every boy in school. You have the potential to be the greatest magic user that ever lived. You’re more than just a pretty face.”

  Hannah smiled up at the old man. It seemed he was taking his fatherly role seriously. “Being pretty and being powerful; the two aren’t mutually exclusive Zeke. And besides, it’s like you always say, there are different kinds of magic. Growing up on the Boulevard told me to use any angle I can find, and we’re going to need every advantage if we’re going to pull this off. But don’t worry, dad, I’ll be a good girl.”

  Ezekiel’s concerned look broke into a smile. He mumbled something she didn’t make out as he shook his head. He turned to look at her. “You might just be getting the hang of this after all.” Ezekiel laughed. “But I’m pretty sure I’ll always worry about you.” He put his hand on the knob in front of them and paused. Looking down at Hannah, he said, “This part of the plan is pivotal. Be confident and controlled in there. But whatever you do, make sure that you only use physical magic and not that much of it.”

  Hannah smiled, expressing a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “Piece of cake. But you’re not coming in? I thought you were here to see me through this.”

  “I trust you to figure it out. And besides, I’ve got more important things to do.” At that, he turned and started walking back toward the staircase.

  “Like what?” Hannah called after him.

  Ezekiel turned, a sparkle in his eye. “I’m going to look for a job.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  During their brief lunch breaks, Parker and the other workers were allowed small talk. The guards kept a close eye on the enslaved men to make sure there wasn't anything being talked about that might challenge the authority of the Capitol.

  Parker grabbed his rations, what could only be loosely interpreted as food. He eyed the lunchroom, trying to find the person he needed to talk to. Jack caught his eye and tried to wave him over. But Parker gave him a little shake of the head and kept looking until he found the young man.

  "Hewitt, good to see you," Parker said approaching the table where a guy about his own age with sandy blonde hair sat.

  Hewitt looked up in surprise. "Parker! What the hell, man? I didn't know that you were here." He got to his feet and shook Parker's hand vigorously.

  Parker sat next to Hewitt, his friend from the quarter. "Yeah, I guess I’m kind of here because of you."

  Hewitt furrowed his brow. "How so?"

  "Well, you know, I was always the street hustler. My mother looked the other way for a long time, but once the curfew got set, and the Governor started to tighten down on street activity, even in the Boulevard, she pushed me pretty hard to go legitimate."

  Hewitt glanced around the cafeteria at the tired men sitting like zombies in front of their plates. "This is legitimate?"

  Parker couldn't help but laugh. "Well, according to what your mom told mine, this is the straight and narrow. I heard it every day, ‘Why can’t you be more like Mitsy’s boy?’"

  Hewitt looked down at his lap. He was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "Hell, man. I'm sorry about that. I guess my mother has no idea what's going on inside the factory. Nobody does. I sure didn’t. But, why the hell aren’t they asking any questions?"

  Parker said, "They don't know. And they’re getting more coin right now than they've ever seen in their lives. Not as much as the Governor is making off of us.” Parker shrugged. “Maybe they are asking questions. Can’t imagine my mother would believe that I would actually leave and just disappear inside of this hellhole."

  Hewitt said, "I've been here over a month. Think my mom would have wondered by now. Not to mention, she went on to your mother about how great it was to get into this place. Now, we all just want to get out."

  Parker's spirits lifted, if only a little, at his friend's words. "So? You’ve been here longer. How do we get the hell out of here?"

  Hewitt shook his head; his sandy hair shook over his forehead. "As far as I know, there is no way out of this shit. That is, until they're done with us, until we break and then only the Matriarch knows what they do with you. They’re taking more guys off the floor, and it’s not always pretty."

  A guard walking close interrupted their conversation. The rest of their meal was eaten in silence. Hewitt’s resignation to a perpetual life in the factory was hard to swallow—harder than the moldy bread on his plate.

>   But Parker wasn’t so quick to hang his head. He knew he had to get out or die trying.

  ****

  Parker’s hands ached. The repetitive work of his spot on the assembly line tore at them, but he couldn’t slow down. It had been a week, and he thought he would’ve moved to a different job by now. But he continued twisting wires and capping them with his bare fingers. He worked twelve or fourteen hours a shift, maybe more. He didn’t really know. Each day felt like a lifetime, and all the workers on the floor just waited for the final bell to ring. At that point, they were ushered off the factory floor and back toward their “rooms.” Others were immediately ushered in to take their places. Not a second was wasted on the factory floor.

  For the most part, Parker was able to fall into a zone, which helped him pass the brutal time a little quicker. He thought about his mom most days. It brought him satisfaction and maybe a little hope knowing that she’s getting checks from his days of misery. It was precious little consolation, but any consolation was worth something on the factory floor.

  Parker glanced over at Jack, the big old guard who used to work at the entrance of the Queen’s Boulevard. Jack had always been kind enough to him and Hannah—and it was his kindness that got him assigned to the factory. While Parker was adapting well to the mundane tasks and brutal conditions, Jack’s transition was different. The man would often stop his work and stare off into nothing several times a day—a risky move in the factory. Parker started keeping an eye on him, jabbing him with an elbow when this would happen. But, if the factory guards caught him before Parker could, they would zap him with their magical weapons from behind.

  Burns and open sores covered his body.

  And still, Jack was getting worse. Parker knocked him in the ribs three times before the man looked up.

  “Hmmm?”

  Parker spoke without looking up from his task. “Jack, you gotta stay with it, man. I don’t know what they’re doing to the men that they drag out of here, but I’m sure it’s no good. Get back to work.”

  The man coughed, his chest sounded funny. “Yeah, right. Thanks, Parker.”

  Parker smiled. “Just paying my toll.”

  Jack smiled for a second, remembering the good days, then bent his head to the job at hand.

  Parker was pleased that he had spared the man a little pain, and maybe exile from the factory. Although he couldn’t be sure what happened when the men were pulled off the factory floor, he knew it probably had something to do with the screams he could hear at night from his cell. There was something going on in the Arcadian factory, and Parker was pretty damn sure he wanted to be gone before he found out what it was.

  As the bell rang that indicated the end of his shift, Parker glanced around the room, grabbed one of the stiffest wires on his bench, and slid it up under his sleeve. He’d been watching the guards as they patrolled the floor for days, especially during shift changes.

  For the most part, the guards were lazy. They pretty much stood around with their thumbs up their asses. It was an easy job since they had the help of the magitech cuffs that all the laborers wore.

  The power in the cuffs kept the men trapped within the factory walls. There was no escape as long as Parker remained trapped in the cuffs.

  Parker kept his head down as he was led back to his eight-by-eight cell—part of his compensation for his diligent work for the Capitol. Despite the crude room, the cell gave him his only privacy, which he needed to plan his escape.

  While pretending to sleep, he kept his ears open for any sound of the guards. After a few hours passed, he felt secure that no one was watching him.

  He drew the thick strand of wire out of his sleeve.

  The shackles were composed of two iron wristbands attached with a chain long enough to allow the workers to do their jobs. Not only was the metal strong, but, Parker could hear the gentle hum of their magitech core.

  He straightened the wire as best he could and inserted it into the cuff’s small key slot. He wiggled it around for almost an hour, but with no luck. Picking locks was a skill he learned on the streets, and these metal bracelets should’ve been easy to open. But they weren’t ordinary. In addition to keeping him trapped within the factory, the magitech design somehow made the lock impossible to pick.

  Dammit!

  Finally giving up on the project, Parker laid down on his cot and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the screams going on beyond the cellblock. Whatever torture was happening beyond his walls, it was terrifying. Which was the point. Those screams were a stronger motivation than any to keep your head down and focus on your work.

  Parker thought about Jack. He realized that if the large man continued his downward spiral, he would soon be in one of those cellblocks—another example for the rest of the men.

  Parker finally fell to sleep regardless of the screams. In the morning, they were silent—a sound somehow scarier still. As the shift bell rang and Parker made his way back out to his workstation, he caught the eyes of a few other men who looked terrified from what they had heard the night before.

  They would all work hard today.

  The situation on the factory floor was getting more difficult. Every day someone was dragged away by the guards to a room adjacent to their workstations. One day the screams started and got so intense, it was hard for Parker to pay attention to his job. After about an hour, the screams suddenly stopped.

  Parker’s hands continued to work the wires, but his eyes turned up toward the doorway the man had been taken to. A lifeless body, one that he recognized from Queen’s Boulevard, was dragged out of the torture room.

  Everyone could tell that the man was dead. The factory nearly came to a stop as they all stared at the body, their fate if they didn’t behave.

  But Parker noticed something no one else was looking out for. The dead man pulled from the torture chamber wasn't wearing any cuffs.

  Parker returned to his work, a grim smile on his face. It was that moment he began to craft his insane plot to get out of the factory and back to Hannah.

  ****

  Having dropped off Hannah at the examination room, Ezekiel was free to make his way to another part of the Academy. He had business to attend to and hoped that it would all go as easily as planned.

  Walking down the shining marble hallway, Ezekiel arrived at a familiar spot—where he had lashed out in anger and blasted the statue of the Chancellor during his first visit to the Academy. He expected that the graven image of Adrien would still be missing from the hall, but it wasn’t. It had been replaced by a statue larger and more austere than the first.

  Nice to see they’re using their resources and magical abilities to help the community, Ezekiel thought as he passed Adrien’s carved face. Defacing the new piece of art wasn’t out of the question—it still filled him with a powerful rage— but Ezekiel thought better of it. He had to keep a low profile if he was going to accomplish the next step of the mission.

  Two floors up from where he had left Hannah, Ezekiel found the administrative offices. The clerk behind a small desk pointed him toward the Dean’s office. He tapped his staff on the door and entered when called by a gentle, yet firm, voice on the other side.

  The office was simple, yet refined. Shelves of books lined the walls as well as a painting from the old world. A large window overlooked the Academy quad below. Just beyond the quad, Ezekiel could see the Capitol building in all of its glory—even though from the outside, he knew its splendor was muted by sitting next to the bigger and grander Academy.

  The woman behind the desk looked up from her papers. “Lord Girard, is it?” She stood and extended her hand in Ezekiel’s direction.