Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  “Dana,” he greeted as he opened the door.

  “Good morning, Tommy,” Dana greeted happily. I cringed—my father hated being called Tommy.

  “Oh, um…” My father took Dana’s offered hand, taken aback. “Actually, sorry, but I really detest the name Tommy.” He tried to laugh off his unease.

  “Really?” Dana asked, surprised. “Interesting.” He looked to us and smiled, turning away from my father, not deterred. “Karen, Little Lily.”

  It took all of my self-restraint not to snap at him that I hated the name Little Lily.

  “Welcome, Dana,” my mother said, extending her hand. Dana turned her hand over and kissed the back of it, his lips lingering on her skin. When he turned to me, I shakily extended my hand and he pressed his warm lips to my knuckles.

  “Ah, Sean,” my father said, inviting the Commission’s head of security inside. I felt my body immediately relax once I realized Sean was there, too. Dana smiled, amused, sensing my relief.

  “Before we bring Mykail in, I should just double-check the arrangements,” Dana declared. He walked up the back stairs before anyone had a chance to show him the way—he already knew where he was going.

  He turned right at the top of the stairs and opened the door to the guest room. I had already seen the finished room with the prison bars over the doors and window. The workers had also assembled a queen-size bed in replacement of the bed we had in there previously, which made the room look much smaller since little else could fit around the bed. Looking over the bars, Dana grabbed one of them and shook it—not even a rattle.

  “Excellent.” Dana reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a paper bag, extracting a key. He placed it in the lock and turned it twice, moving the bolt loudly. “Perfect. That sound will let you know if anyone is letting him out,” he explained. “You should be able to hear it from just about anywhere in the house.”

  Sean walked in behind Dana, but stayed at the doorway, watching him check the room.

  “Sean,” my mother tried to strike up conversation, “how long have you been head of security?”

  “About three years,” he answered. “But I worked security in the Commission before that.”

  “Do you enjoy your job?”

  “I do, thank you for asking, Mrs. Sandover.”

  “He’s lying through his teeth,” Dana called from the bathroom. “He hates it, but he’s lying because I’m here.”

  “Dana…” Sean groaned.

  “What?” The head of the Commission shrugged as he returned into view. “It’s true.”

  I looked between them, not sure whether to believe Dana or Sean. Sean looked far too kind-hearted to enjoy working for a man as cruel as Dana, and he also did not protest Dana’s statement, but it made me question why he put up with working for the Commission.

  “Everything looks like it’s in order,” Dana mused. He retrieved the paper bag from his pocket again, pulling out four keys. “One for each of you,” he distributed them, “and a spare.”

  “So, we can let him out,” I deduced.

  “You can let him out into the rest of the house,” Dana affirmed. “But no further. He cannot go outside. If he does, I will know,” Dana said dangerously. “Do I have your word that you will not let him out of the house?”

  “Yes,” we chorused.

  “I will hold you to it.”

  Dana turned to Sean.

  “Let’s get him.”

  Dana pulled off his glasses, placing them inside his breast pocket as he descended the stairs. My father held the door open so we could watch Mykail unload. Sean closed the main garage door as Dana moved to the daunting black SUV parked inside.

  In the back seat, we saw Mykail bent forward, his wings barely able to fit in the space of the car, cramped at an awkward angle. What made the image worse was the black bag over the experiment’s head.

  “Why do you have his head covered?” my father asked as Dana reached into the car.

  “So he doesn’t know how to get back home,” Dana said mysteriously. “Mykail.” The angel reached out with both hands, turning his upper body in search of guidance. His wrists were cuffed and chained together, hindering his movement. Dana gently took one of the angel’s hands. “Wing’s down,” he instructed. The angel folded his wings closer to his body, maneuvering around the seats of the SUV, bumping them as he tried to find the way out of the car.

  Dana placed his hand on the top of Mykail’s head and then touched his wings, helping him.

  “Very good,” Dana praised gently. Mykail’s ankles were chained to his wrists, making him shuffle awkwardly away from the vehicle as Dana closed the door.

  “You have to have him chained as well?” my mother hissed.

  “Well,” Dana chuckled, “I do.”

  The leader of the Commission of the People removed the bag from Mykail’s head. The boy looked around, his eyes wide with surprise and fear as he tried to take in his surroundings.

  “Sean, let him stretch his wings. That was an uncomfortable car ride for all of us.”

  Dana’s head of security pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, searching through them before unlocking the cuffs on Mykail’s wings. We watched in fascination as Mykail lifted his wings and spread them, the muscles in his shoulders flexing and stretching with the movement. He sighed in relief and then settled into a normal position, rotating his neck as well.

  The movement was hypnotizing. It was graceful and natural, as if he had been born with his wings.

  Sean fastened the cruel cuffs again.

  “Why do you need him chained?” I asked.

  “He gets a little playful,” Dana answered vaguely, taking the keys from Sean. Dana unlocked the cuffs on Mykail’s ankles, handing the restraints to Sean before starting on the cuffs on the angel’s wrists. “But that’s only with me. He’ll be a perfect angel for you, I’m sure.”

  As soon as Dana removed the second cuff, Mykail snarled and lunged forward, taking advantage of being free from confinement.

  “And here we go,” Dana groaned, ducking and grabbing Mykail’s wrist, pulling sharply. Mykail fell to his side on the cold garage floor, his heavy wings throwing him off-balance. He let out a quiet shout of pain, but lunged forward on the ground to latch onto Dana’s ankle.

  “Will you knock it off?” Dana growled, kicking Mykail away, annoyed more than threatened. “See? Sometimes, you need to discipline him.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Dana pulled out something that looked like a car remote. He pressed the only button and Mykail let out a pained wail, backing away from Dana immediately, his back arching and his wings trembling as the muscles quivered.

  I watched in horror, seeing the agony contort Mykail’s face as his cry echoed in the garage.

  “Stop it!” I snapped.

  “After he attacked me?” Dana asked darkly. “No.” The leader of Commission looked back at Mykail, his eyes sharp and cold. “We generally have this conversation once a week, anyway.”

  “And you wonder why he hates you?” I growled.

  “Ah, no, he doesn’t hate me.” Dana crouched next to the cringing angel and placed a gentle hand on the pained face, looking at him tenderly while his eyes remained cold. “He just likes to test my limits. We have a healthy relationship, I think.”

  Mykail slowly began to relax, lowering his head to the cold cement floor, panting through clenched teeth as the pain ebbed.

  “Now, Mykail, can we make it up the stairs and to your room without repeating this?” Dana asked. Mykail turned his head, but did not respond. The leader of the Commission of the People nodded once.

  “Good boy.”

  He offered his hand, pulling Mykail to his feet, his wings trembling as he was forced to lift them with the rest of his body. Dana walked to us, leading Mykail. I retreated out of instinct. Mykail looked at me as he passed and I was immediately pulled into his magnetic stare—so different from Dana’s while being surprisingly similar. The gaze was powerful and alluring,
but not frightening.

  “To the left, Mykail,” Dana instructed, keeping his hand on the angel’s shoulder. Mykail ducked his wings through the doorway and turned up the stairs. He walked into the guest bedroom and looked around briefly before sitting on the bed, eyes downcast.

  “Sean, get the box out of the car,” Dana ordered his head of security. As Sean slipped out, Dana motioned us closer, though all three of us kept a fair distance from both Dana and Mykail. “Mykail, these are your new masters,” Dana introduced. “This is Thomas Sandover, his wife Karen, and their daughter, Lily.”

  Mykail kept his eyes focused on the grain in the hardwood floor.

  “He’s not much of a talker,” Dana told us. “Anyway,” he turned to my father, pulling out two of the same clickers he had used to discipline Mykail in the garage, each clicker attached to one key. “Here is the key for the cuffs on his wings. You can remove them only when you bathe him and apply the lotion. Then, they have to go right back on. Sean is getting the lotion and other things now. I’ll supply it for you.”

  Dana snapped his fingers.

  “Something I forgot to tell you last week,” he said quickly. “Every other month, I will be coming over to give him his shots.”

  “Shots?” we echoed.

  “They’re for his wings, it’s medicine for him,” Dana explained. “It’ll take me ten minutes, at most. Unless I decide to stay for dinner.” He grinned, obviously not joking.

  “Ah, I see,” my mother said, uncomfortable but trying to laugh at his banter.

  “So, the clickers,” Dana nodded to the two remotes in my father’s palm, “whenever you have him out of this room, keep that in your pocket. If he gets out of hand, you can subdue him quickly. The other one is a spare, you’ll keep it with the spare key to his cuffs and the spare to his room. The other key to his cuffs you are to keep on you, to be sure you know where they are. Not that he can reach the cuffs himself, but it’s best not to tempt him to try.”

  Sean returned with a small box and set it on the far bedside table. Dana opened it, pulling out one bottle.

  “Alright, everyone over here, I’ll show you what to do,” Dana said, beckoning us with his finger.

  I had been locked in a staring contest with Mykail’s vibrant blue eyes after he had raised his head when Sean returned. As cliché as it seemed, there was something otherworldly about his beauty and it was captivating. I moved to Dana, constantly flicking my eyes to Mykail. He was still looking at me, like he was trying to communicate something silently.

  “Take a fair amount of this on the palm of your hand,” Dana explained. “You want to smear it all over his shoulder blade,” he ran his hands over the area he was talking about. “Be sure to get under the feathers around the main joint of the wing.”

  “Every day, right?”

  “Yes,” Dana affirmed. “Pick a time, make it a habit. It really shouldn’t take long. He’ll sit still. If he doesn’t, hit him a few times with the discipline chip.

  “You have a few choices for feeding him. Be sure he gets at least two full meals a day,” Dana continued. “Three is nice, if you can swing it. But I know sometimes no one will be home to feed him. Just be sure he doesn’t go hungry. I’ll reimburse you for his food. If you feel comfortable enough, you can have him eat with you. If not, just bring him a plate of food in here. I doubt he’ll make a mess. He’s pretty clean.”

  “Are you sure he’s safe to let out of this room?” my mother asked, referring to the incident in the garage.

  “He’s very docile, really,” Dana assured, placing the unlabeled bottle of lotion on the bedside table. “He and I just have a certain relationship.”

  I resumed staring at Mykail, unable to turn my eyes away, barely hearing Dana’s words beside me.

  “So…” Dana mused, looking at Mykail, Sean, and the box on the bedside table before clapping his hands together once. “Shall we have lunch?”

  Dana exited the room without waiting for an answer. My mom blinked at my father, who shrugged and led us out, Sean closing the cage door behind everyone. I glanced back once more, catching a glimpse of Mykail staring at us through the bars as we left.

  My mother and I made quick sandwiches, both of us feeling desperate to get Dana out of the house.

  “So, Tommy,” Dana started, leaning against the counter as he watched us work. My father cringed at the name but decided to ignore it. “What made you go into politics?”

  “You could say that it runs in the family. My father was a Regulator, as well.”

  “Your father,” Dana repeated slowly. “Mister…Johnathan Sandover, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  I listened over my shoulder, occasionally throwing glances at the three men. I could hear the tension in my father’s voice. I never knew much about my paternal grandfather, since my father never discussed him and he had died before I was born, so the conversation piqued my interest.

  “And he got out of politics after the scandal with his wife, correct?” Dana pressed.

  At this, both my mother and I turned, confused. My father looked at us, trying to think of an explanation, while Dana waited patiently for an answer, impervious to the awkward mood in the kitchen.

  “You certainly have done your research,” my father evaded with a nervous smile.

  “His wife killed herself, didn’t she?” Dana continued.

  “Um…yes…she did…”

  Dana nodded, backing off the subject. My mother turned back to preparing lunch, though I took longer to resume the task. I watched Dana settle against the counter, triumphant.

  “Did you think you would get this far into Central?”

  After a few boring exchanges about my father’s advancement in Central, my mother turned again.

  “Shall we eat in the dining room?” she asked, bringing the plate of sandwiches to the bigger table. My father turned to Sean and Dana.

  “Would either of you like a drink? A beer or something?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Dana assured. “Sean?”

  “A beer would be great,” Sean said with an apologetic smile. “Thank you.”

  Dana moved into the dining room with me, smiling.

  “That dress looks beautiful on you, Little Lily.”

  “…thank you…” I scurried away from him and sat at my normal place at the table—across from my mother and next to my father. Dana took the seat next to me.

  “Dana?” My mother offered him the tray of sandwiches as Sean and my father walked in with their beers. Sean sat on Dana’s other side and my father assumed his normal spot at the head of the table.

  “No, thank you.” Dana shook his head with a smile.

  You were the one who suggested lunch... I growled internally, barely suppressing the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Sean?” my mother said, offering him the tray.

  “Thank you very much, Mrs. Sandover.” Sean smiled, still apologetic, and grabbed one of the sandwiches. He immediately began scarfing down the food as though he had not eaten in days.

  When the tray came my way, I picked the smallest one, knowing I would be unable to eat with Dana sitting next to me, but not wanting to decline and seem rude after my defiance the previous night.

  “Well, Dana,” my father started, taking his own sandwich and turning to the other man, “how did you come to lead the Commission? You look too young to be in such a high position.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving.” Dana smirked. “Actually, I worked under Bryant Morris and took over after he died.”

  We all stopped and stared, eyes wide.

  “Impossible,” my father breathed. “The man who founded the Commission of the People? You worked under him?”

  “We knew each other on a very intimate level, yes,” Dana affirmed. “I was quite young, then. I didn’t think I’d come to lead the Commission after his death, but here I am.”

  “Bryant Morris died thirty years ago,” my father hissed, skeptical and confused. “How could you
have worked under him? You look to be in your late thirties. When were you born?”

  “I wish I could answer that question for you,” Dana chuckled. “But, along with several other memories, my mind decided that such information was not important and promptly forgot.”

  There was no other way to respond than to stare at him incredulously.

  “…I wish I could do that,” my father laughed, his voice straining. “So, if you knew Bryant Morris, then you could tell me if he started the Commission with the idea that…this would become of it.”

  “This?” Dana repeated, confused. “Oh, you mean the testing? Oh yes, he’s the one who started it.” Dana nodded enthusiastically. “He ran over four thousand and seventy experiments when he was head of the Commission.”

  I choked. Coughing, I reached for my water, hating that the attention was focused on me. Dana’s hand rested on my shoulder and I froze, frightened by the touch.

  “Are you alright?” he murmured. I nodded quickly and tried to get my throat to dislodge the food as I moved my shoulder away from his hand.

  “Over four thousand and seventy?” my mother hissed when I stopped making such a commotion.

  “Yes. We still have some of them hanging around the Commission today,” Dana confirmed.

  “Why did he start it? The same reason as you?”

  “…you know, I can’t remember,” Dana said with a smile, looking thoughtful for a moment before shrugging. “I actually believe it was a request from one of the early Leaders who wanted strong weapons and guards, worried that the American people would stage a coup so soon after the Revolution.”

  “So…you’re doing this because you’re worried about the domestic safety of America,” my mother concluded.

  “No,” Dana corrected. “Not at all. That was the original plan, when there were still illegal immigrants, homosexuals, and other filth wandering around on the streets. No, everything is much calmer now.”

  “Then why continue the testing?”