Through Your Eyes ( I Am Alive Series Book 1 Episode 3 ) (I Am Alive serial)

by Jace, Cameron

  “It’s a system, Decca,” says Xitler. “I never said I didn’t like my system eliminating each kid who doesn’t fit into my plans. I never said I don’t like making tons of money from people loving our games worldwide. In fact, I like it a lot. All I am saying is that there is a greater possibility that the Ten is one of the Monsters. And I want the Tens. I have great use for them. I will not tell you about it, and I will not tell you what I really am. At least not before you prove that you’re a Ten.”

  “I am listening.”

  “So back to when you were ranked a Monster at seven. Your parents were going to send you away, and your mom wanted to kill you — I am not the only evil grownup, you know.” He winks. “Woo decided that you were worth saving. I should add that he might have loved you as well, but that is off the subject. So Woo gave you his Woo-Chocolates.”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re not just chocolates, Decca.” Xitler bends forward. “They’re expensive biometric substances, disguised in chocolates. They manipulate your brain into following the system. It stops you from being a rebel so you got fair results on the iAm. Woo gave’m to you because he knew you loved chocolates, and those were pretty addictive. The Woo chocolates have the same taste but they aren’t real chocolates.”

  “No way,” I say while actually believing Xitler. I was a rebel when I was young. I remember standing by the refrigerator, and my parents debating about killing me. I remember.

  “Although Woo knew you were a potential Ten,” says Xitler, “it’s my belief that he wanted to save you because he loved you. But I could be wrong too. The Breakfast Club might have ordered him to keep you out of the games.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “To keep you hidden as a Ten. Hidden from me. They must have figured out that my optimum purpose in the games is to discover a Ten.”

  I feel dizzy. Woo, did you keep me from the game because you felt for me or did the Breakfast Club order you to? If you did it for me, should I be thankful for you deceiving me into obeying the system? Or should I be mad at you for being overprotective and interfering with what should have been my own choice? And if it’s all about this mysterious Breakfast Club that believes that I am a Ten, what is so special about me? Who am I, really? I have the right to know who I am.

  My inner talk about who I am reminds me of Alice in Wonderland. Considering all the talk about the Rabbit Hole that supposedly can get us all out of Faya, I feel pretty much like Alice. I don’t know who I am. I do know that I want to stay alive, but what then? Will I finally know why Woo did that for me?

  “You know those dreams you get of Woo training you?” Xitler asks, daring my eyes, almost slanting beyond my soul.

  “How do you know about those?”

  “Those are no dreams, Decca,” says Xitler. “They were real training sessions that took place before Woo attended the Monster Show. Woo trained you to become everything a Ten would be if they were really a Ten.”

  “What are you talking about? Those are only dreams.”

  “No dreams are so vivid. You only think they are dreams because Woo fed you the chocolate after each training session so you forgot about them and thought they were dreams. The chocolate interacted with the receptors we plant in every newborn’s head under the ears, and prevented the iAm from detecting the training sessions. When Leo removed it in the forest, you started remembering. Bit by bit. That’s why your full potential hasn’t surface yet.”

  Oh my God. He is right about that. This was why I remembered how to use a bow gun when we were playing Wheels of Fortune, and why I found myself knowing how to shoot Carnivore in the Mirage if I got a chance, and how I felt funny and more confident since Leo removed the receptor. And … there are some blurry memories waving before my eyes now, like watching something in the rain. I know there is something happening but I can’t interpret it.

  “Why do you think you have good survival skills? Why do you think you can shoot a bow gun? How did you make it so far when I changed this year’s games to blow up all that preparation of yours. It’s all coming back to you, Decca, and I want to see how far you can go.”

  Words escape me. I am silent. All I can remember is how reluctant I was after I switched my iAm with Eva’s. Looking back at it now, I should be laughing at myself. Look how far I have come. Look how far my path has changed from finding Woo to becoming the only Monster left to win the game. Is this how I should expect the rest of my life to become? I plan one destination and end up somewhere else?

  “Is that why I feel confused?” I ask Xitler. What a great idea! But when the angels are gone, there is no one left to talk to you but the devils. “Is this why I felt contradicting emotions all the time?” A tear is about to roll down my cheek, but I hold back. Not in front of Xitler. “Is this why I feel like my thoughts are all over the place? I mean all this time with Leo here in the cave, I have had thoughts about pushing him over to save myself. It’s not what I want to do, but the thought crossed my mind.” I hate myself for telling this to Xitler. I make believe that I am talking to myself.

  “No,” Xitler purses his lips, seemingly irritated by my moment of weakness. I forgot he wants a superhero. They don’t cry. Do they? “The iAm didn’t cause those feelings. It’s called growing up, Decca. Something that I wish to spare the people of Faya of in the future because it’s one of the hardest things to do.”

  It occurs to me that now matter how creepy and evil Xitler is, there is a shadow of a humanity hiding behind his metal skeleton. The last words he said evoke questions about him and his childhood.

  “However, There is still one thing that I don’t understand,” He growls. “Why did you have to switch the iAms and enter the game? Why?”

  “You know why. I thought Woo was alive and wanted to find him.” I slam back. Is this dude a douche or is he a douche?

  “You see. This explanation doesn’t add up because you were still eating Woo chocolates like I told you. One chocolate per week. Let alone that eating the chocolate for about seven years had already changed your inner system. Obeying the Summit had become a normal thing for you to. So planning to enter the games for a year and risking your life is a very strange behavior that I can’t figure out.”

  Finally something that Xitler doesn’t know the answer to. But I know. I didn’t enter the games because I had an epiphany of how bad the Summit was and that I had to rebel against it. Nor did Woo tell me to do it before he entered his games. Xitler is right. The moment I entered the game, I was still thinking I was a Seven, and the memories of my mom trying to kill me were only vague and unimportant. There is one other reason I had to find Woo for, and I will keep that to myself. It’s personal.

  “I guess you can’t stop a Ten from doing what she has to do?” I wink, spreading my arms slightly, acting lightly so Xitler accepts it as an answer. “So tell me, Xitler,” I follow before he has a chance to think it over. Also I don’t call him Prophet Xitler to mess up with him. “If Woo refused to tell you, then how do you know about me?”

  “Because we know everything,” says Xitler. “We’ve been watching him train you and let him think he was fooling us. The iAm detects everything, even Woo’s chocolates. We waited for you to see if you were a Ten, Decca. We’ve waited for others before, but they’ve all failed us and died in the games. We’ve even waited for Woo, thinking he could be a Ten, but he gave in to Carnivore.” Xitler spreads his hands. “Carnivore is the ultimate test, Decca. Even Woo didn’t know how to kill it. If you can kill Carnivore, you’ll be the one.”

  “What? Why Carnivore?”

  “Because Carnivore is my fiercest weapon. The optimum of my genetically mutated creations. And because of a prophecy.”

  “Prophecy?”

  Xitler leans back in his throne. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about this. “There’s some kind of prophecy I found in the Arc containers I’ve found under the Burning Man. It claims that whoever survives Carnivore is probably a Ten.”

&nbs
p; “A Ten?” I wonder. “They couldn’t have prophesied that since they didn’t have the ranking system.”

  “Smart girl.” Xitler is impressed. “They didn’t say Ten. They said rebel. The ones who are capable of bringing down my system. I call them Tens. But don’t worry, I am not going to hurt the Tens, or I could have just killed them on sight. I have better and bigger plans for them. That’s all I can say for now.”

  “So you’re accepting my offer? That’s why you’re here?” I ask, tiptoeing on the edge.

  Xitler nods seriously. “How can’t I, after you came up with that crazy ClairVo idea? We’ve sold about ten million glasses worldwide in the last hour. You know how much each one costs? If you weren’t a Monster, you would have been good in the marketing department in the Summit.”

  “Will you save Leo? Can you save his leg?”

  “Whatever you wish,” says Xitler. “We could buy your parents a better house too. Anything you ask for, as long as you put on the ClairVo glasses and fight Carnivore. I mean I would dig up the presidents of the Amerikaz from their grave and tell them: ‘Look. Did you ever see anything like this with all your 3D movies and stuff? Here is the real future.’”

  “You know I can’t kill Carnivore, right?” I say, wishing I could.

  Carnivore roars from above, and Xitler chuckles.

  “Shut up!” I shout desperately.

  “He wants you, Decca,” says Xitler. “He wants you so bad. Maybe he knows you’re the one.”

  If I can save Leo, I have to stick with what I have started. What difference does it make if I die? My parents wanted to kill me when I was seven. The Summit will not pick me up if I win, and I will die eventually in this cave. If I save Leo, he will be the winner of the games, and he will stay alive. Maybe that is what being a Ten is about. If I am a Ten.

  “Okay,” I nod. “But you have to supply me with all the weapons I ask for to kill Carnivore, even if I ask for a bazooka.”

  “Others have asked for it, and it never worked, but I promise you I’ll give you whatever you need to fight it,” says Xitler. “I believe you have never seen the Carnivore games.’

  “No.”

  “Not even the one with Woo?”

  “Not even that.”

  “There is nothing to see since it’s all white over white shades. The only one who sees what’s going on is the one who plays the game. Now we have you with ClairVo inside the field. How didn’t any of my lazy assistants think of that before?” Xitler grins at Eliza. “Imagine this headline: ‘Hundred million viewers watching with only one girl’s pair of eyes.’ My soldiers will save Leo while I’ll send a special Zeppelin for you to spend the night in my Royal Tower until the fight.”

  “Spend the night? I thought I’d fight Carnivore.”

  “Of course you’ll fight him, darling,” Xitler says happily. “It’s just no one fights Carnivore at night. His powers are in fighting in the morning so it’s all overly bright and white. This is going to the best show in the history of television.”

  “Okay. I could use the time to rest,” I say.

  “Remember one more thing when you’re down there in the Monsterium fighting Carnivore.” Xitler leans forward again, closer to me. I feel like I am going to vomit. “They say whoever gets to see Carnivore in the game with his own eyes never lives to tell about it.”

  “Yeah.” I pout at him and Eliza. “How about I teach you something? Especially Eliza.”

  “Huh. Me?” she utters, pretending to be checking her nails.

  “Yes. You. Remember when you told me every girl dies?”

  “You’ve got such a black heart.” She raises her thin eyebrows and Xitler chuckles. “Yes. I remember. What about it? It’s true. Every girl dies.”

  “Wrong,” I object. “You only got half of the sentence right.” Woo has taught me the full phrase. “Every girl dies. But not every girl really lives.”

  Chapter 40

  Ariadna

  The servant girls in the Royal Tower want to get rid of Honeybee. I tell them to buzz off and leave the poor bee alone.

  Yes. I brought Honeybee along with me. I need a friend to accompany me if I am going to spend the night in here. If the world comes down to this, that my last friend on earth is a bee, so bee it, and just let it bee.

  The servant girls are all giggly at how dirty and blood-spattered my body is. Blood seems to make girls giggle these days. Like cybernetic Geishas, they point at my messed-up hair and laugh at each other. I look in the fancy curvy mirror in this fancy white-motif royal room and laugh too. My hair — or should I say what’s left of it — is all dust, all mud, all blood, and mostly scraped out. I lost bits and pieces of it in every game I played, especially the last one when Carnivore slashed at it and ripped some of it away.

  I turn back to the girls and laugh. Poor beautiful Nines working as servants for Xitler, washing his clothes, rubbing his feet, and who knows what else. They are all dressed in white fluffy transparent dresses, have red manicures and wear red lipstick. All giggles, no brains.

  Woo told me about those girls. I thought it was a myth. None of them knows she is a Nine. The iAm manipulates them into being ranked Fives, claiming they have some deficiency, so they can be Prophet Xitler’s servants. The are called Malikas. The public shouldn’t know about them. They are Prophet Xitler’s personal faeries.

  The Malikas are here with me to wash me and prepare me, and maybe give me a massage and let me drink pink juice out of dandelion cups. It’s my last night before I die, you know. I can have whatever I want.

  I walk barefoot among them, guiding Honeybee to a vase full of real dandelions I have just ordered — every other flower in the Royal Tower is plastic.

  When the Malikas start to bug me, I ruffle my stiff hair and pose like a monster, clawing my fingers and making faces. They shriek and step back. One of them even cries when I do that.

  “How many seconds will the likes of you last in the Playa?” I say to her, rolling my eyes.

  They don’t reply. Malikas are mute. Don’t ask. I don’t know why. I have a headache from thinking about how to beat Carnivore.

  The barber I have asked for arrives. He pulls out his machine and buzzes my hair away. Yes. All of it. I am bald now. I’d rather have full and beautiful hair or have none at all. Besides, it will help in the Monsterium. I have a plan.

  I let the Malikas strip me naked and wash me. They are more than happy when they do that. I would have kept the blood of the other Monsters on my body — I would have been honored — but I need to clean and shave every part of my body. Like I said. I have a plan.

  They cut my nails and massage me after that, while I watch and re-watch Carnivore killing the Monsters in the games on my recharged iAm. There’s nothing really to see like Xitler said. I understand why the audience love and hate this part. The iSees were sent into the Monsterium to cover the game, roaming around helplessly, blinded by the white of the sands. Only occasionally, and rarely does an iSee capture Carnivore running or opening his red jaws at the camera. Only its roars are audible, but it seldom does, so it can attack its prey. Carnivore doesn’t want you to know where it is until it attacks. It’s the poor contestants who are sent, wearing a flashy color, into the field, panicking so hard they could die from a heart attack before Carnivore gets them.

  That will be me, just hours from now.

  Some contestants tried to get rid of their clothes, running naked in the sand. Naked or not, your butt still shines like a diamond in all that white.

  How do you beat Carnivore in such circumstances? Let alone that it is a fast and vicious tiger. How do you hide from it in the white sands? No matter how white you are, you’re not that white. And even if you are, it can still see the color of your eyes, it can see the color of your mouth, your hair and your palms. And even if you manage to do all that, do you have the heart to look into the white void, wondering if it is hiding two inches beyond it?

  The more I re-watch the games, the more I start to understa
nd that all white, all bright, is just the same as all dark. No wonder these are the two colors which scientists don’t actually consider colors. The black absorbs all; that’s why they say you get sucked into the darkness. The white reflects all; that’s why I say the white will reflect all of your fears out there in the Monsterium.

  “Hey, you.” I summon a Malika, showing her the white-themed Carnivore game on my iAm. She looks puzzled with almost nothing to see but an occasional thin curvy line showing the edges of a dune here and there. Then the Carnivore slashes at a contestant and blood spatters on the iSee. That’s when the Malika giggles.

  I wish I were born in the Amerikaz. I don’t think the Amerikaz went down the drain as far as Faya.

  I order the Malikas to leave the room and call Timmy. Before he picks up, the iAm shows me a world that is all awake, waiting for me. Prophet Xitler wasn’t bluffing. Viewers are seventy million worldwide, and they all bought ClairVos. There are flags sold with my picture on it, and there are ClairVos sold double the price because they are signed by me. I didn’t sign anything. But I am not that mad. Leo’s signed ClairVos are triple the price. Girls hug them when they buy them. Leo couldn’t have signed them either. Last time I checked on him, an hour ago, he was unconscious after they operated on him and saved his leg.

  “Yes, my princess,” says Timmy smoothly. “What can I help you with?”

  “I want my ClairVo,” I demand.

  “You’ll get yours. Patience, my dear. Death is knock-knocking on your door. Don’t just invite it in now.”

  “I want mine to be all white.”

  “Most of the ClairVos are all white,” says Timmy. “Nice haircut, by the way. Are you trying to show us how bold you are?”

  “Did you see that?” I grin. “All clean and shiny so blood will look bright on me in the camera. Buzz off, Rabbit.”

  “I cut my ears like you cut your hair.” Timmy sips on something. “I am not a rabbit any more.”

  “I also need a brand-new bow gun and arrows.”