Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  Doug, the owner, jumped when he saw Mark, his sunglasses still on and a hand resting on his gun.

  “You guys sure are more jumpy than the others who came through here,” he noted.

  “Some of us are a little more high-profile than in the last groups,” Jeff said with a shrug. “Can’t be too careful.”

  “I suppose,” Doug agreed, though he still kept the wary eye on Mark. “I wasn’t sure if y’all would still be here. I can bring you guys some lunch if you want. Are you going to stay another night?”

  “If it’s all right with you, sir,” Clark said slowly.

  “Course it’s all right,” Doug said. “One of the other groups stayed here for days. Guess they were pretty tired, although it could have been the blistered feet.”

  “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” I said sincerely.

  “I’ll bring you guys some lunch,” Doug said with I smile and nod. “But I also wanted to tell you that it probably would be best that you head out as early as possible tomorrow morning.”

  “Why is that?” Jeff asked, suspicious.

  “The Commission’s going to be making an announcement at a press conference today,” the cowboy answered. “Not sure what they’re gonna to say, but considering that they haven’t found many of you guys, they might be saying that they’re going to be more aggressive in the search. The sooner you get out of this country the better.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be sure to be on our way as soon as possible.”

  Doug left and came back a half hour later with some food for us while we turned on the television and learned the time of the upcoming press conference.

  “What do you think they’re going to say?” I muttered, looking around the others in the cabin.

  “Not sure,” Jessica said, her eyes downcast, away from the small TV in the corner. “By now there should only be for five groups in the country. It’s really only the last three or so that are likely to run into trouble if the Commission starts getting more aggressive.”

  “And if they are getting more aggressive,” Clark added, “then our group is the one most at risk.”

  Mark reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small notebook that he had been using to communicate quick sentences to us on the journey.

  “We will be very diligent,” he assured. “If we have to take a longer way just to avoid a trap, we will.”

  As always, I was confident that Mark would find a way to get us through anything that we would face.

  We ate the sandwiches that Doug brought for us for lunch, thanking him for feeding us even though he had already given us some dried food for our journey. We continue to watch the news coverage, waiting for the late afternoon when the press conference would begin. We tried not to get ourselves worked up about what the Commission was most likely to say, but I could tell we all knew the press conference had to do with us.

  When the press conference began it was not my father who was standing in front of the reporters. I was mortified to see Clark’s mother standing next to Rebecca’s mother, Mrs. Davis. A sickening, cold dread washed over me. The presence of Becca’s mother meant that Becca was now entrenched in the Commission of the People herself—or, worse, she had been captured. I recalled the pain in her voice that cold, dark night that Josh had died. She had told me that the Commission knew about her, so it was impossible to tell if she had been captured by the Commission or not, but something inside me told me that Dana had offered her immunity from being a prisoner if she had turned against me.

  Her actions surrounding Josh somehow made more sense, but I knew it was still not enough to ease my anger toward her.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Mrs. Markus greeted, opening the press conference. “The Commission of the People has decided to hold this press conference to make an announcement concerning the domestic terrorist group known as the Central Angels. We know that the discovery of another winged man brought forth a lot of questions about how many of these individuals existed. As the Commission stated before, we have no knowledge of how many people like this were created by this group, only that the basis for the technology was stolen from the Commission of the People, and we know that it stemmed from our research into modifying soldiers for combat purposes. Knowing that the technology came from the Commission, Mr. Christenson was eager to correct the mistake of allowing the information to slip into the hands of a domestic terrorist group.

  “As you all saw when the first winged man, the one who terrorizing Central for weeks, was captured, the Commission of the People has been successful in modifying a human body for superior strength, speed, and reflexes. This soldier, codename Leo, has been a great asset in helping us track down the remainder of the Central Angels,” Mrs. Markus continued. “However, we are certain that they have scattered, and may be recruiting new members into their group. For that reason, the Commission of the People has unanimously decided to test our modification program on other willing individuals in the event that the Central Angels modify others to create the same terror we saw in Central. It has now become a case of fighting fire with fire. For that reason, we are expanding our modification program.”

  I stared at the screen, my mind is going blank as I realized what had just happened. Rather than cause the Commission more grief by placing Mykail’s body in such an open location and allowing him to be discovered had allowed Dana a platform to expand the Machine of Neutralization project.

  All five of us in the cabin or horrified.

  “We’re fucked,” Jeff muttered.

  “Somehow, we just keep helping Dana bring the Machine of Neutralization into the mainstream,” Clark whispered. “I wish we had killed Eyna before he was finished. Now there’s no telling what he’s really capable of.”

  Mark’s eyes were studying the screen intently, as if he was taking the announcement personally, angered more so than the rest of us. I could feel the tension rolling off of his body, but decided not to ask him what his thoughts were on the announcement.

  “We hope to have several of these modified soldiers ready within the next few weeks,” Mrs. Davis added. “We are working closely with Leader Simon, and the military, including the Chair of Military Power, in order to successfully integrate these modified soldiers into our military practices. The first mission of these soldiers will be to track down and apprehend all remaining members of the Central Angels domestic terrorist group.”

  I could not stop the bolts of terror that rocketed through me at the declaration.

  As Miss Markus opened up the press conference to questions, most of which were asking about how safe these modified soldiers were going to be, I turned to look at the other worried eyes in the room.

  “It has to be a bluff,“ Clark said slowly. “It takes months to make a Machine of Neutralization.”

  “Unless he found some way to perfect the method,” Jessica said.

  “Exactly,” I seconded. “What about Eyna’s sister? She was being worked on before we even started this revolution.”

  Clark went silent, his eyes turning to the floor.

  “Mark,” Jeff said, turning to the leader of the Eight Group. “How many do you think Dana has now?”

  Mark took several moments reaching into his coat pocket and extracting his notebook, his eyes still locked on the screen as we anxiously waited for his answer. He clicked his pen and turned his eyes away for a split second to scribble in number on the notepad before his eyes went back to the television. Without paying attention to us, he turned the notepad around.

  “Two.”

  “Then it is a bluff,” I said quietly, relieved.

  “Are you sure he only has two?” Jessica asked skeptically.

  Mark nodded, lowering the notebook, his eyes still watching the press ask Mrs. Markus and Mrs. Davis questions.

  “Then why would they say that they’re going to have more within a few weeks?” Jeff demanded, unconvinced.

  “…I don’t think it’s about actually producing the Machines of
Neutralization,” I mused. “It’s probably just a ruse to continue making them right under the people’s noses and under the guise that they are to go against us.”

  “He also doesn’t know exactly what these experiments are capable of,” Clark added. “Perhaps saying that it takes so little time to make them allows him to have some soldiers pretend that they are these modified soldiers, which will strengthen the peoples trust that they are safe and then he can make more.”

  “The question is are they safe?” I pressed.

  “I don’t see how there is any way they could be,” Clark said simply.

  Mark seems to be in an angry mood the rest of the night and barely interacted with any of us. He did not eat and silently stared at the wall while the rest of us talked about the next leg of our journey.

  I was also fairly certain that he did not sleep that night, either.

  We continued our trek the following morning, Mark rousing us out of bed as soon as dawn began to paint the sky. We had no protest waking early and getting out on the trail, knowing that we suddenly had even more pressure to get out of the country. We made good time and took shifts as usual camping that night, no longer squabbling, since we all understood we were in even more danger than before.

  I had the second watch shift with Mark, and I could still feel the anger rolling off of his body. I wanted to ask what he was angry about, worried that I had said something or done something wrong, or that he knew something that no one else did. However, the amount of tension I felt made me refrain from doing so.

  When the tent door unzipped and Clark clumsily climbed out, I glanced at my digital wristwatch, seeing that it was nearly two in the morning. Confused as to why Clark was up four hours before expected, I watched him close the tent and walk over to us, huddling in the blanket he had brought with him as he sat with us.

  “Are you sleepwalking?” I asked.

  “No,” Clark assured. I just…couldn’t sleep.”

  I sighed, nodding slowly. “I don’t blame you.”

  “It just sort of seems like the whole world is losing its mind,” Clark lamented quietly. “I mean, people with wings and superhuman strength, that’s the stuff of action movies, not reality. That was one of the things that made us so effective in getting our message across, the fact that Mykail was something that no one had ever seen before. And I thought that, somehow, it would cause a panic and force people to see what the Commission could do to humans. And once they saw that, they would be completely against any other modification to the human body. Instead, the Machine of Neutralization is now in the main stream media and everyone knows about it. Yet, no one seems worried.”

  “I think people are worried,“ I contradicted slowly, “but I also think that maybe the fear is stronger than the worry. Dana framed us for the bombing of all those buildings in Central and we were blamed for the deaths in all the subsequent attacks. And now they’re saying that we’re going to make another person with wings, so of course everyone is terrified. They’re probably just thrilled that the Commission can modify humans to combat people like Mykail and Chris.”

  “The problem is, if people become accepting of the Machine of Neutralization, then the whole world will come to accept it,” Clark whispered, his eyes low and lost in thought. “And, then, Dana will soon be selling these soldiers to other countries. If they really can do everything that we saw Eyna do on TV, then countries will be paying fortunes to have those weapons. Pretty soon, there won’t be any unaltered soldiers left.”

  Mark reached into his pocket to pull out his notebook, apparently wanting to add something to the conversation, but he stopped. It took me a while to realize that he understood we would not be able to read what was on the pages with just the moonlight. With a small smile, trying to comfort him about his inability to vocalize his thoughts, I reach for my bag and pulled out the tiny flashlight that I had clipped to the outside. I clicked it on for him.

  With a small smile of appreciation, he pulled wrote something in his notebook.

  “Dana I cannot turn just any soldier into a Machine of Neutralization,” he said, writing the sentence over two pages. “There is a certain gene that the person must have to become one. If Dana wants to mass-produce them, he will have to search very thoroughly for those who matches the genetic requirements.”

  “…that was why Dana I wanted to try and breed the Machine of Neutralization between Eyna and his sister,” Clark breathed, terrified at the sudden realization.

  “If he can breed them,” I started, just as mortified, “then they become their own species.”

  We all stared at one another, realizing how much society could change as a whole if it was possible to breed such modified humans. The implications of creating more Machine of Neutralization was not just a threat to our personal safety as the Central Angels, but it was something that would alter the entire world.

  I could feel the color drain from my face.

  “…I see what you mean, Clark,” I whispered. “Even if we make it to Mexico, it’s possible that, in time, the Machine of Neutralization will be so widespread and in every country, meaning that no place will be safe.”

  Mark wrote something in his notebook again.

  “We will all be dead before the Machine of Neutralization is that widespread.”

  “Is it horrible to say that we can only hope so?” Clark asked.

  * *** *

  We were deep into hotter dryer territory. The days became longer and harder to get through with each one that passed. On our second day since the Commission’s press conference, we had to stop around eleven in the morning and seek shade underneath some tall bushes against the few sloping hills just to try and escape the horrendous heat of the day. Unfortunately, we had to be very careful with our water since there was no clean water nearby—and that meant we also had to be careful how much we walked in the heat.

  The rationing of the water made us all irritable, without us even realizing that it was thirst that was driving our tempers high.

  The night did not give us any reprieve from the heat. However, Mark decided that it was easier for us to travel at night then it was during the day. While we were able to move for longer periods of time in the slightly-cooler air of night, daytime offered no rest. Trying to find shade was difficult in the arid landscape.

  At the next safe house, we begged the man to tell us how to better preserve our water. Unfortunately, he had no more extra canteens left and we had to stay an extra day so they could buy some for us. I insisted on giving them what little money I had, as did Mark, which they took after much convincing. But that left us with even fewer funds in case it was an emergency later in our journey.

  I thought that the extra day at the safe house would allow us more rest, however, the small shed where we were being harbored also did not allow us any escape from the heat. Most of us stayed by the water spigot, wetting our hands and the backs of our necks whenever we became too hot. The family hiding us also had other guests, which meant we had to stay hidden in the shed no matter how unbearable it became.

  I was sunburned, my feet blistered, and dehydrated to the point of having a constant headache. Everyone was feeling the same. It seemed as though we would have to divert off-course just so that we could survive the harsh landscape we were trying to traverse.

  When I told Mark on the day next travel day that we needed to find a means for clean water and shade so we did not die of exposure, he hesitantly agreed and veered off path, trying to remain in the general direction we had to go while still looking at the route we had drawn on the map, trying to find some easier way to travel.

  He ended up spotting a relatively large river and we all agreed that we would try to find its location, even if it was just to follow until we could find more amenable path.

  The prospect of cool water, even if it was just to swim in to cool our bodies, propelled us all to move a little faster, veering off the path in the general direction of the river, following the compass Jeff held an
d looking over Mark’s map.

  When we found the river, we were overjoyed. However, that joy was quickly overshadowed by the fact that the river sat in a small canyon.

  Mark was the first one to try and scale down the steep, sandy banks of the ravine. He slipped near the bottom, but caught himself and then helped the rest of us down, catching us if we lost our footing. One by one, we descended the bank until all five of us were standing with our feet in the cold water.

  Even though we did not know exactly where we were, or who could possibly be around to see us, we swam in the calm waters of the river, laughing and giggling, relieved after days of the scorching sun.

  I had no idea of knowing if the water was safe to drink, but we still filled up what little space we had in our canteens, figuring that some water was better than debilitating dehydration. Being off-course, there was no way of knowing how long it would take us to get to the next safe house or the next place where we could find clean water.

  Mark agreed with Jessica when she suggested we walk along the river, being sure to head in the general direction of the border so that we could ensure we had water and a means to stay cool during the heat of the day. We carefully picked our way along the varying terrain next to the river. Sometimes we were stumbling over sharp rocks, and other times we were walking in thick sand, struggling to keep our balance and feeling as though we were working twice as hard to keep moving. We stopped when night fell, but we did not set up the tents along the river, opting to stare up at the stars from the sandy embankment.

  I ended up falling asleep easily and did not wake until I could see light behind my eyelids. I briefly wondered if anyone had kept watch that night, but it seemed that everyone had taken such relief in the cool stream near us that we had let our guard down. But I did not see any indication that we had been spotted or found when I looked around us. Everyone seemed relaxed, more so than they had been in days, and we packed up easily, joking about the sandy beaches we would likely find in Mexico.