The office workers seem to be working at a normal pace. They do not know about the threat yet. I try to smile while passing, not wanting to alarm anyone and make my way to Steve’s office. We almost bump into each other as he is just exiting.
“Oh, sorry,” I stammer.
“Good timing Mera, come on we have a meeting to go to,” he says as a reply. So I turn on my heels and follow him to the meeting room with the oval table. As he walks in front of me I notice his shoulders. They are tense, solid.
Not all of the chairs are filled. I look around me and remember the faces that I counted yesterday. Three of them are missing. Steve must not fully trust them. With everyone still standing it is a challenge to get past them.
While finding a spot I look up at the whiteboard across from me. Yesterday the board was white, today it is covered in pictures. Looking back at me are the King, the Queen, two identical princesses and one very handsome Crown Prince. There are a few more pictures, but I do not know who they are and I don’t really care. My heart breaks. It is the first time I see his face since he walked away from me. The feeling of utter loss drowns me. His red beautiful eyes pierce mine. His regal smile feels wrong now that I have seen what his real smile looks like. My knees shake and my eyes water.
The people here cannot see me break. They cannot know I am weak. So turning my back, I wipe my tears and quickly sit on the other side. My back faces the pictures, letting me pretend he is not staring at me. For days my mind played tricks on me, pretending the Prince was no longer a concern of mine. Yet seeing his picture pulls me straight back into the quicksand. This is going to be my downfall.
I am extra happy for Steve’s efficiency. He checks his watch, coughs, and asks us all to pay attention. We dive right in. Steve does not even bother sitting down or offering anyone a drink. He starts by sharing what Gilanna has told me. Some of the board look at me with question filled eyes. They are wondering if I am to be trusted, and if I can really trust Gilanna.
I sit a little straighter and tell them about my home town and how I have grown up with Gilanna. I tell them about the rebel attack where she was almost shot. And I tell them about how Gilanna is the most loving and kind person I have ever known. They have to believe she is a good person. Even if she is born Elite.
They seem satisfied enough with my little speech, and turn their attention back to Steve. I notice the tremble in his fingers, and a little drop of sweat dripping down the dark skin next to his eyebrow. He is afraid of what he is going to say next and I feel the tension in the room rise. I am not the only one to have noticed his change in behavior.
He starts, his voice softer and a little hesitant, “I have always believed in our methods.”
People around him nod their agreements.
“I believe in the strength of the humans, and I believe that the Elite lives are just as important also,” he continues.
The words give me comfort. I agree with him. I have met so many wonderful Elite over the years.
“But,” he says very adamantly.
My mood sinks again.
“We have promised humans safety at our compounds, and now the rebels are fighting us. Their own people!”
Another round of nods.
What does this have to do with the Elite?
“The rebels are forcing our hand, we have to make a move in order to keep as many people safe as possible.”
“What do you have in mind?” one of the attending women asks.
“Well,” he replies, “we need to show the rebels we are not the enemy. They are currently our biggest threat. Once we have them in check we can become the ones pulling the string, and reach our final goal, Human Rights for everyone.”
As he speaks the room goes wild. Everyone becomes excited, like it is only a small thing we have to do to run the world.
I am more hesitant and as the group settles down a little I ask, “and how are you planning to convince the rebels, they seem pretty set in their ways?”
“Ah, yes, that is where we will be needing your knowledge of the palace,” he says turning to me.
If Steve had a lighter skin color I would have seen him turn bright red. His brown skin turns even darker, his eyes linger on mine for only a second.
Others might not spot the regret in his eyes but I do. What is he regretting? What is he really saying here? What is he asking of me? I always knew he wanted me here because I have been to the palace. I never really wondered why. So, why?
“And what is it, that you need to know? What is the goal?” I do not dance around my question and my bluntness startles the group. It even startles me a little.
“We need you to tell me all you know about the palace, the structure, the guards, any schedules you know, whereabouts and so on,” he starts.
I look up at him, trying to put the puzzle pieces together but something does not seem to add up just yet.
“And,” he says trying to avoid eye contact, “we will need to know everything you know about the royal family.”
I feel a punch to my gut as I turn to where his hand is pointing. The pictures look down at me and I sigh. This does not feel right. I am afraid to ask the question that is really on my mind. My mind starts spinning and I wonder if this has always been his plan.
“And what exactly, do you intend to do with this intel?” I ask softly, afraid of the answer.
The smiles and gleeful expression on the others faces disappear as they turn to listen to the answer.
Steve looks at the group, scans the faces one by one and looks truly sad. Maybe this was not the original plan. I have to have faith in his goodness. Although with the words he speaks next, that faith is squeezed to a small minimum. With a voice filled with dread and exhaustion he speaks.
“It is us, or them.. So we must capture them, and if needed, kill them.”
Chapter 17
Panic. Not only in my whole body but in the room. People stand, scream and wave their hands as if they are about to fly away. I sit in my chair, completely frozen. From what I have learned from Steve he really does not want this to be his solution, but like he said, the rebels are twisting his arm and this is all he can think of.
That does not make it right though. The King is a hated man, but even he does NOT deserve to die. What makes this situation so much worse is that they need me to give them the information. I will be responsible for the capture and maybe even death of the royal family. My words will kill Will. My heart breaks for him. He is such a good man. Will wants the world to change and yet he can do nothing while his father is on the throne. If only I could convince them that Will is not his father. That he will do things differently. But then again, will he? He was so convincing when it was just the two of us. But when his father told him I was human, nothing of that kindness was left.
I watch the others yell at each other as numbness washes over me. My body no longer seems to function, incapable to move. For a long time I just sit there. My mind goes truly blank. There is nothing left in me to think anymore. My circuit is fried and I am numb.
I am only human.
Here we are, in a room with people I truly think want the best for this world, and yet we are making plans to kill a whole family. They cannot ask this of me. I cannot be a part of this.
My numbness makes way for a flash of adrenaline. Humans are wired to have flight or fight instinct and I for once, decide to flee. This is it. My last straw. They officially broke me.
I rush out of the room. I slow my pace in the belly of the spider to avoid causing too much alarm, and then I run. I run the flights of stairs like I am flying and the burning feeling in my legs make me feel alive. I move as fast as my body can and my lungs scream in disagreement. Still I keep moving, all the way to the top. Run, move, go. I need to get as far away from this plan as possible.
The top floors are not yet in use. I am safe here. Nobody will come and ask me what is wrong. Nobody will see me fall apart completely. My legs cave and I fall to the floor, knees first.
>
It takes forever for me to catch my breath, my lungs finally getting the air they screamed for.
I am on my knees. Head on the floor. My hands ball up into a fist as I try to steady myself.
I can’t do this. I hit my fist on the floor. The tears flow and the anger reaches my balled up hands. I hit, and cry, and sink into a bitter darkness.
Once my breathing calms I turn to sit on the top step. My walls return. My numbness kicks in. My barriers are up. I count. It is easier this way. Pretending the numbers are important. Pretending that is all there will ever have to be. I count the stairs. I count the people that look like ants far below.
If only they were really ants. Knowing the fate of ants were on my shoulders is a little easier to handle than the fate of humans. But the worst thing, I do not know if this plan will even work. Even if I tell Steve everything, even if we end up capturing, and killing the entire royal family, we still do not know if the rebels will stop hunting us. We still do not know if we are safe, or doomed in this mountain.
I push my hands to my eyes and the pressure helps, if only for a second.
I cannot do this. I cannot have his and his family’s blood on my hands. But I also can’t let the rebels penetrate the mountain. Then there will be even more blood on my hands. Signing I allow the tears to fall. I am so far up that nobody can hear me. Long sobs shake my head, resting in my hands.
“Are you ok dear?” a soft but very familiar voice asks.
I jump. In a split second I am on my feet and turn to my left, where the platform splits into the corridors of the top floor. It’s Annabel. She walks out of a dark corridor towards me. She must have been up here for some quiet time too, what are the odds.
When she reaches my side she sits without speaking. Following her, I sit back down too. For a moment we just watch the ants below us. It is a comfort to have her here. I open my mouth to tell her what is going on. My lips close again. No need for her to worry. She has had plenty of that in her lifetime already.
She seems to have spotted my movement though, “what is it dear?”
I try not to speak. I try to hold it in. My mind might burst and my heart might break and I start crying again. Her arm reaches over me and pulls me in for a hug. She lets my head rest on her chest. Her chin finds my head. Her right arm moves up and down slowly to comfort me.
Before stopping myself I blurt out the whole situation. I just go on and on and do not stop my story until I reach the part of the story where she found me, crying inside a large mountain. When I am done I lift my head out of her embrace to look at her. She has not said anything during the whole story but I felt her movements stiffen and her heart race when I told her the plan. Her face is even paler than usual and her eyes seem to be elsewhere. It takes her a moment to collect herself. I have been trying to figure this whole thing out a lot longer than she has. It cannot be expected of her to just nod and be ok with everything she has just heard. After a moment she seems to snap her attention back to me, her eyes almost back to normal. They are focused on me again, but a storm seems to build up in them.
“You cannot kill the royal family,” she says firmly.
I nod, agreeing.
“But I do not know of another way,” My voice sounds pleading. There is no hope.
More silence hits us as we ponder.
“What if this can be our plan B?” she says, “What if we can stall it, or even find a way where we won’t need it at all?”
“Okay,” I say hesitant, “and what do you propose?”
“Well,” she shifts her legs to face me. “The earlier king got the Elite behind him by sending out propaganda, right?”
“Yes?”
“So those video’s show how the humans are weak. Yet, here we are, stronger than ever.”
I nod, although I do not feel strong whatsoever.
She does not seem to notice and continues. “So what if we send our own videos out into the world? They could star humans that have done extraordinary things? Show the world that even though we do not have colors, we are still talented and strong?” Her voice is eager, and gains confidence the more she speaks.
She might have a point, even if this doesn’t fix our whole problem it could win us some time. It would be the HR’s way of introducing itself to the world, and hopefully win some favor with the rebels. Because even though they are fighting us now, they still want the same things. Just like us, human rights.
“I like your way of thinking. I am not sure if it will keep away the rebels, but it might be worth the try?”
“You have the use of a computer at your office, right?” she asks.
I reply with a nod and she stands, holding out her hand. “Let’s go do some research.”
We stand and start our descent down the steps. Once we hit the sixth floor, where she lives, she tells me to go along and that she will follow me shortly. So I keep walking, deep in thought about her plan. Will it work? Maybe not. Will it give us time? Probably, and that is good enough for me.
I tell the office reception that I am expecting Annabel and that she can send her to my office. She nods, without caring why Annabel has to visit me. It does not matter, she deserves to stay in a safe haven for a little longer.
Passing her, I move straight to Steve’s office. By the looks of it, he is having a terribly rough time. He sits at his desk, staring at the wall, mind racing. His frustration is tangible. He really does not want to do this. Neither do I.
“Steve, I am sorry for running out earlier. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. It is a lot to ask of me.”
He looks up and stands. “I know, I am truly sorry for dumping all of that on you. Everyone is having a hard time with the harsh reality of the plan. So we agreed to come back tomorrow to continue our meeting,” pause, “ we all need a moment to pull ourselves together.”
Perfect, that will give Annabel and myself some time to come up with a new proposal, hopefully one that will not involve killing anyone. I tell Steve I need to do some research and turn on my heels.
Annabel takes a little longer than I expected but seems calm and even a little excited when she enters my office. She quickly scans the room before taking a seat next to me so she can also see the computer.
“You alright?” I ask.
“Yes, as good as can be expected,” she replies.
“Good, we have twenty hours, let’s get to work.”
We spend hours scanning through documents, stories and human identity card information. We find a few good stories of humans who have excelled at jobs or talents and I can’t help feeling a little proud. We also look a little further than just our own country and we find more interesting stories from all over the world. I am really starting to think this might actually work. Annabel seems to feel the same. She works hard and stays focused, with a small smile every time she finds something good.
Once we have a good amount of stories we move on to writing a good pitch. We need to convince the other board members that this might work. It is well past midnight when we decide it is enough and I squeeze her arm as a small thank you. Even if this does not work, we at least gave it a good go. We at least tried something. Annabel has been so gracious to help me out. She reminded me of the strength and endurance I have. Even though I have been through a lot, I still underestimate myself. I truly can be my own worst enemy. Annabel helped me today to find a little bit of strength back. I owe her.
The next morning I wake up thinking it was all a dream. I stretch in my bed and let out a large yawn. My fingers reach for the nightstand and flick on the light. The pitch cards lying next to my bed are a rude awakening. Tension falls over me. This is it, this moment can either save Will and his family or get them all killed. This moment can save all of the humans living here, or only get them in more danger.
No pressure.
I take a quick cold shower, willing myself to wake up. I dab some foundation underneath my exhausted eyes in the hopes to make me look a little more alive. It is moments
like this that make me miss my blue contacts. They made my eyes pop so bright that I never had to worry about shadows underneath.
With my towel around me I make my way back to my room and grab my black dress. I feel like it makes me look regal, feminine and powerful. If I want to pull this off, all three of these qualities could come in handy.
My bright red heels call for me. Sinking to my knees I hold them for a moment. They feel strong. I need to feel strong. My certainty about our plan is starting to dissolve. Yesterday it made so much sense. What were we thinking? I was so sure we could pull this off. But there is no way they will agree to this plan. The rebels might be hiding in the shadows outside right now and I want to make videos about strong humans? They are just going to laugh at me, and then force me into writing down everything there is to say about my Will.
Gosh, Mera, he is not YOUR Will.
I sigh, frustrated with myself to even think about him right now. I need to be strong. I lean down, put on the bright red heels and look at myself in the mirror.
I am a freaking Elite, I am strong, I am powerful, I can do this.
I need every little thing to keep me upright, and if my heels are going to give me a sense of strength, I will take it.
I will myself to be unbreakable.
I make my way down with my head held as high as I dare. Falling down seven flights of stairs is not on my to do list. It takes all my effort to look elegant but focused as I walk. People around me stare. Nobody wears heels here. Usually staring people would cause me to hide, not today. They do not know what is at stake right now. They do not know why I need these heels.
The meeting starts at nine a.m. Which means there is half an hour left to get my act together. Some breakfast should be good for my stomach, but the smell of food makes me nauseous. Perhaps some tea will do me good instead.
The cafe is open.
“Hi, what can I get you?” The chipper lady at my table hold out a notepad.
I Am Elite (A Colors novel Book 1) Page 18