At two minutes to midnight, the crowd moves out onto the lawn. No one says anything to make them leave the house, but they all walk outside regardless. I follow them silently. I make sure I am the last person out of the house. It's better than being first and having everyone stare at me. It'll just make them start asking questions again. It also gives me an opportunity to avoid Mr. Humphrey, who has turned extra grateful toward me with the addition of alcohol, as well as Riley and Gib.
At exactly midnight the crowd stops talking and the sky flickers once. A woman's face appears above us. I turn and see a handheld operated by a pudgy man. He's projecting the image with his device. The woman talks about the decade of rebellion that caused famine, untold deaths and unending violence. She explains how the city had not been immune to the rebel attacks. I understand the fear of Agent Crease. She is afraid the people will think war is returning to them. She's afraid they'll panic. Panic will bring the city to its knees.
Images of the violence in the city pops up on screen. Explosions, firefights and dead people lying in the streets are shown with equal gusto. There are children mixed in with the bodies. It's heartbreaking. The fear of the others around me is palpable. Many of them remember the violence well. Nine years is not nearly long enough for them to forget. The fact that the rebellion is in the city makes me think it began here. It did not start on the other side as I have long believed.
"The rebels did not care who they killed," the woman continues. "Innocent men, women and children were slaughtered in the rebel's attempts to take control of the city."
A new scene appears. It's of a patchwork of buildings that look like they don't belong to the city. The wall is in the distance, but it's curving away from me. It's the lower city. Then, something that makes my heart miss not one but several beats, crosses the screen. Three people I recognize hang large in the air above me. One of them is Devlin. The other two are my parents.
The memory of their faces is sharp as I watch my mother step into view. The last time I saw her face I was eight years old. It was the year the war ended. It was the same year Max and I were taken in by Angela and Devlin. My mother looks grim and focused. She's wearing a red jacket like the guards wear and my father is wearing white. They have stolen uniforms. A line of prisoners are stretched in front of them. My mother walks the line once and then stops in front of a grizzled man. He looks up at her and says something. She puts her pistol to his head and fires without hesitation. I jump and put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. My father takes a shot next. A woman falls. He smiles at my mother coldly.
Then Devlin notices the drone that's recording the footage. He shoots it and the screen fades to black. Other atrocities play across the screen next, but I don't see them. My eyes have filled with tears. The prisoners had been bound. They couldn't fight back. My parents were murderers. They weren't freedom fighters or heroes, as people in camp had always claimed. They were murderers.
I take several steps back. I want to run away. I want to never look back. The truth is hard, and I want to run from it for as long as possible. A hand grips my shoulder. I look up and see Gib. His expression is unforgiving. He wants me to continue watching. He wants me to see every last drop of blood that is spilt on the screen. I could fight him, but it wouldn't do any good. Everything in my body tells me to flinch away from him, to hit him and run, but my shock keeps me in place. Disobeying him is not an option. He forces me to look at the projection with a hand on my chin. I know better than to close my eyes. He'll just open them again.
I watch until the woman finally reappears. "Remember the cost of freedom," she tells us.
The screen goes blank and there is a moment of silence. Then a voice rises out of the dark. "Hua!" it yells.
"Hua," the people repeat in a surge of noise. It's a call of togetherness. It's a reminder that people are not alone in their pain. Gib repeats the sound with them.
The talking starts up again after a moment of silence and Gib finally releases me. He doesn't want the others to see him mistreating me. I am too much the center of attention for him to take the risk. He cares about appearances as well.
"You sure have changed, forest rat," he says quietly, stepping in front of me so that I can't look away.
I look up at him in hatred. My hands are shaking. I want to follow through on my first thought. Keep my expression neutral. Keep the lie. Act soft.
"Now you know the truth of the rebels you call friends. You're lucky I owed you a debt for saving my life. Otherwise, I would have left you to burn in the forest."
At least I knew why he brought Max and me to the city. He felt like he owed us. I wish he had left us alone.
"Your friend was very upset after she saw you in town," Gib adds after a long pause. He can see my anger on my face. He's not goading me like Benny does. He knows I won't attack. He's seen enough of my self-control to know the truth. He's enjoying tormenting me, though. He likes power. He likes wielding it. "Kept going on about her camp. I guess you couldn't keep your mouth shut. I had to do a little adjustment on her. She's so much more tame now. It takes away some of the fun, but that's life, I guess. To be honest with you, I'm starting to get tired of her. What do you think? Do you want to be my pet next? We could have a lot of fun together."
I would rather eat a boiling pit of lava and then jump into a piranha invested river.
I continue to stare up at him. I'm no longer letting him see my softness. I want him to know that he can't tame me. I want him to understand that I would kill him now if it wasn't for Max, Maria, and my friends at the facility. I'm trapped by circumstances beyond my control, but not one of them made me his.
"Bree, you must tell me where you got that dress," a woman I have never spoken to before says, taking my arm familiarly. She talks to me as if she's known me my whole life. She pulls me away from Gib before I can reply to him.
I'm breathing heavily, and I'm close to attacking someone, anyone. My hands keep clenching into balls. The vision of my parents' faces as they killed the unarmed people is mingled with Gib's smug expression. I hate them all. I wish I could forget even one of them.
Ace finds me thirty minutes later. I'm surrounded by the chickens again. Cluck, cluck, cluck. They've trapped me. I am actually grateful for their incessant babbling. It means that Gib can't get close again. He's not done taunting me. It's clear that he wants something from me. There's something a lot like lust in his eyes. Ace has sobered a bit from our last meeting. His eyes hold clarity and control.
"Karen wants to go. She's not feeling well," Ace announces to the group.
The women let me leave with many well wishes for Karen and doe eyes at Ace. They're attracted to him, even though they're three times his age. I would have found it funny any other time. Ace pulls me away from them with a hand on my elbow. I'm still in shock. I barely feel his skin on mine. My body has gone numb.
Karen is waiting for us near the steps. Her face is green; she's already thrown up at least once. She's not much of a drinker. Ace puts his arm around her waist to steady her and helps her walk. I waddle after them, my calves screaming at me to sit down and never get up again.
Karen's house is not far. We still have to walk three blocks out of our way to take her home. I wait outside as Ace carries her to bed. I stare at the ground and wish I wasn't bound to the earth and could float away. I wish I was a pilot and could fly a lift straight out of the city. I wouldn't stop until I was as far away from the forest, the rebels, and the city as possible. I want nothing to do with any of them. I want to leave them all behind. But I could never leave without Max, Maria, Nathan and Sam. It wouldn't be worth it.
Ace returns to me ten minutes later. He's still unsteady on his feet, but he reads my expression in a glance. He realizes something is wrong. "Have you been crying?" he asks me quietly.
I wipe away the tear that has leaked over. "No."
"What's wrong?" he presses.
"It's nothing," I say. I start walking, my leg searing with pain.
/>
He doesn't agree with everything the government does, but he doesn't hate them like I do. He sees good in the city. He fights the unjust parts of the system, but he is still their soldier. He wants to serve them, as is evident by his drunken speech. I can't tell him my parents were leaders of the rebel army. He will blame me. I will lose my strongest hope of ever seeing Max again. Alienating Ace is not a good idea.
Ace stops walking and touches my arm to get me to do the same. He keeps touching me. I wish he would stop. It's confusing. His touch reminds me of the way we greeted people at camp. It makes him feel like he is connected to my home.
"Please," he begs.
It's the softest his deep voice has ever sounded. There is real emotion there. He's not hiding anything. The emotion is surprising, warm, and has me speaking without thinking.
"My parents were in the video," I blurt.
"Oh..." he says. He thinks about it for a moment. "Carson. I thought I recognized the name."
"I don't want to talk about it," I add.
"The war was messy on both sides," Ace tries to comfort me. "Neither side had clean hands. They all killed innocent people. The government has the luxury of showing the rebel's actions now because they won."
"I don't want to talk about it," I repeat.
I start walking again. He catches up to me easily. He lets the silence stretch out between us for a couple of minutes. My thoughts return to the video. I can't remember my parents very well. They were never really around, even when they were right in front of me. They were distant, aloof, and always meeting with people who were far more important than their children. Max and I always relied on each other. But Devlin...He was a father, a brother, a shelter in the storm. He had never been a happy man exactly, but he had loved us. He had made sure we could fend for ourselves. He was the reason I could fight, shoot, and think logically and precisely. He had trained me to be a soldier. It was the only training he knew to give; it was the only way to show he cared.
But now I know that he was a killer; he was not a good man. And I have his lessons running through my veins.
"What do you want?" Ace asks finally.
"From you?" I ask to be sure. There are so many things I want. He will never be able to satisfy them all.
"Limited time offer," he says. "I'll do whatever you want if it'll help cheer you up."
I look around the dark streets. There are no drones around the neighborhood. The thap-thap-thap is missing. I know it's because many of the city's officials live in the neighborhood. They do not allow the surveillance. They do not like their privacy to be infringed on. They have more rights than the average citizen.
I reach out impulsively and take his hand. I need human contact more than anything else. I need to feel like a person, rather than a dreg or rebel scum. I will never be okay with what my parents did, but I want to know I'm not like them. I can feel and be affected by the touch of another person. People are still important to me.
Ace's fingers wrap around mine after a second of surprise. He was not expecting such a human gesture around the seriousness of our discussion. Everything has been about survival between us. Suddenly, I'm a girl in need of a hand to hold. It takes a shift in thinking. We walk in the dark for a couple of minutes more, then his voice rises up again.
"When I was thinking of ways to make you a pet, to get the others to leave you alone, I didn't think it would be this difficult," he admits slowly.
His hand tightens slightly around mine. It's not painful. It's possessive. It's not possessive in the way someone as powerful as him should feel towards someone like me. He doesn't want to own me. He wants to protect me.
"Why?" I ask.
"I don't like seeing you like this," he admits after a moment. "It isn't you."
"It isn't?"
"Don't be coy," he chastises me. "You know it isn't. You play along because they hold all the cards, but I know you better than that. I know your fire. I know what makes you tick."
"How?" I ask.
He's silent for a long time. I think he's not going to reply. I don't really need him to. His hand on mine is more than enough.
"Do you remember the video of your capture? The one I played when you first came to me?"
How could I forget?
"Yes," I say.
"I've watched it probably three hundred times. I'm not exaggerating. I can't help myself. I don't really know how exactly, but every time I see your expression when you realize your camp is being attacked, I feel like I know you. I feel like you know me. You were willing to run toward the fire to save the people you care about most. You would have done everything in your power to help them if Max hadn't stopped you. There was no thought of yourself in that split second."
"I'm sure Max was thinking the same thing," I say, feeling a hot wave of heat on my face. I'm glad he can't see my expression. The dark is a happy ally. I don't think of myself as brave.
"No. He was afraid," Ace says. "I wish I was more like you. I wish I could run toward the fires more instead of analyzing them before I act. I'm always careful. Everything is a hidden danger. Everything is a calculated risk. I can't let my guard down for a second. I can't follow the same impulse that makes me want to run to the people I care about. Because what I'm doing is too important to risk."
"You shouldn't tell me this," I tell him sadly.
"I shouldn't?" he asks slowly.
"I'm going to move on to the next wave of training soon. I think we both know what happens then. I'm not going to be me. I don't know what secrets I'll give away, or if they'll force the truth from me. I don't want to be the reason you get in trouble."
"What if you can't be brainwashed?" Ace asks. "You're not susceptible to the hypnosis. You don't show any signs of conditioning yet. It's possible it won't work on you."
He sounds hopeful. The hope is a lie.
"Have you ever met anyone who made it through the training without side effects?" I ask.
"No," he admits quietly.
I think through the situation. I wonder what happens if the brainwashing doesn't work the way it's supposed to. There have to be some people in the world who don't take to it. Nothing has a hundred percent success rate.
"The riot..." I begin.
His hand stiffens on mine. "What about it?"
"What happened?"
He takes a deep breath. "The woman who was originally in charge of teaching your group the game had a...,well, breakdown, you might say. She got into the part of the facility where we send the ones who don't take to the brainwashing well and let them out. You were there for the rest."
"Some people become overly aggressive with whatever technique you use to brainwash them," I decide.
"A small percent of the population," Ace admits. "My uncle doesn't understand why. He studies them in order to bring the number down and focus the brainwashing. That's why they were kept alive. We still don't know what happened to the woman to make her release them."
"She was brainwashed as well?" I ask. "That's why she had dead eyes?"
"Yes," he replies.
"No one's the same," I point out. "But the brainwashing is geared to make them the same. It's bound to cause problems."
Ace laughs. "My uncle goes on about neural pathways and biorhythms and synapses and you sum up the problem in a single sentence."
"It was three," I point out with a smile.
"If only I could stop it," Ace says, sounding frustrated. "The city would be so much better off if we could find a way to stop the brainwashing that doesn't put even more people at risk."
"The government won't stop," I say. "They're too scared."
"Or too arrogant," Ace says.
His hand slips out of mine. The warm pressure lingers around my fingers a second longer before it disappears entirely. We're back at his parents' house. They mustn't see us touching. The wave of regret is quickly followed by confusion at the feeling.
"Goodnight," he says quietly without looking at me. His long legs carry him
into the shadows before I can reply.
I stand outside the house for several minutes. The first few minutes are to get my thoughts in order and pretend like the night hasn't been torture, save for the ten minutes I got to hold Ace's hand. The last several are because I am thinking of Mrs. Ellison's words. They have a security system. Will it kill me if I go inside? Should I knock? Knocking is better than dying.
The door opens a few seconds after my tentative rap on the wood. Virginia is on the other side. Her eyes are weighted down with exhaustion. They made her wait up for me even though she has spent all day cleaning and cooking. She will only get a few hours' worth of sleep before she has to be at work again. I'm sorry to be the cause of her exhaustion.
She gestures me up the stairs with a kind smile and then follows me. She helps me out of the dress silently. She puts it in the bag and closes the door behind her as she leaves. I don't have any clothes to change into. My grey uniform has disappeared. I get on the bed in my underwear and stare up at the ceiling. It takes me a very long time to fall asleep. I've been changed by the night. It is another change that has irreversibly rearranged the way I think and feel about things. I can't take back what I have learned, felt and thought in the night.
I know the next day will be just as full of torture. Anything else is foolish hope.
Ace is again my escort around town the following day. Agent Crease takes us both to so many places that I lose count. I answer the questions that are put to me, smile happily and shine as a bright ray of hope in the midst of a devastating attack. We visit the citizens in the hospital who were injured in the attack. One of them thanks me for giving her hope. It makes me ashamed to know I'm lying. All of them thank Ace for saving them. I think he feels a similar shame for not being able to do more.
Neither of us mention our talk or the way we held hands. We're strangers, save for the small moments we can manage a word or a smile without Agent Crease around to notice. When the tour is over, he leaves to return to his duties and I am dropped off at the house. My leg aches and throbs, but it no longer debilitates me. They plan on sending me back to the facility in the morning. I'm glad.
I sit in the sunroom until the Ellisons come home. I don't know what to do when I hear them. I don't want to go out to them and have them talk to me like I'm a dog. I want to enjoy the light coming in through the glass room and feel the heat kiss my face. I want to think about things that aren't related to Ace, my parents, or the fact that my life and my brother's life will never be the same. But I know if I continue to sit they will find me. They will wonder why I am sitting in one of their rooms alone without a purpose. They might even punish me.
I find Mrs. Ellison in the living room. She is talking very seriously to a woman. The woman is very short and has black hair and brown eyes. Both women are tense. Mr. Ellison is standing at the window with his hands behind his back. When I walk in, they all turn to look at me. I freeze at their stares. Have I walked into something I'm not supposed to see?
"This is the one?" the woman asks. Her voice is hoarse and drawn out. It sounds like a frog's croak, only frogs have more melody.
Mrs. Ellison nods politely. "This is Bree."
"The would-be rebel," the woman says. "The one who is causing such a stir."
I look at the floor. I can tell by the way Mrs. Ellison is treating her that the woman is important. She has a lot of power.
"Yes, Councilor Feng," Mrs. Ellison replies respectfully.
A councilor. One of the five people who controls the city and the government. No wonder Mrs. Ellison looks so afraid. Councilor Feng takes a step toward me. It takes all of my willpower not to take a step back. I'm braver than a woman stepping close to me. I won't let every single moment be a test. I will stand my ground. Councilor Feng takes another step. And another. She's directly in front of me.
"Look at me," she commands. Her voice resonates with arrogance and firm power. She is used to being obeyed. I have a feeling she has not heard the word no in a very long time.
I take a deep breath. I remember Honey's first survey of me. I remember to keep my eyes soft and unthreatening. Don't let them know what I am capable of. Hide who I am. Survive.
I raise my eyes and look into hers. She is staring at me seriously. She's very good at reading people. She reads them quickly in order to know if they're a threat. She has built a career on finding threats and eliminating them.
Keep your eyes soft. Don't threaten. Don't let them see what you are capable of.
"Do you have any idea what your little stunt has done?" she asks softly. She doesn't have Ace's calm and sense of command - she has more emotion and anger - but she's definitely calm enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I shake my head mutely and continue to look at her.
"People are beginning to talk. They want to know if it's right to keep the immigrants separated when they are obviously so capable of great acts of bravery. They want to know if the facilities are inhumane. They question what they should not question."
"I didn't know," I say.
"That doesn't matter," she says. "The damage has already been done."
I'm doing some fast thinking. Her threat is obvious. I know she's not happy with me, but she hasn't made up her mind about what to do yet. Her visit is a test to see if I can fix things. She wants to read me. I have a solution. It's born out of fear.
"Tell them I want to go back," I say.
"Why would you want to go back?" Councilor Feng asks.
"So I can continue my training and become a citizen. To serve."
I know it's the right thing to say. Ace is in my mind telling me what to do. He's reminding me that small rebellions are better than large ones. The councilor's lips lift up in a smug smile. She believes me. Or does she?
Before I can stop her, she lashes out and slaps me on the face. The slap is not hard enough to leave a mark, but it's startling. I grab my face and feel my body react to the movement. I uncoil it immediately when I realize she's testing me again. She's looking to see my reaction in the heat of the moment. I keep my eyes wide and allow my lip to tremble. She finally nods, her eyes on mine. She has lost some of her dark light.
"You will tell them as much tomorrow. You will give a speech on the steps of the Assembly explaining how you want to become part of this great city...how the training makes you strong enough to better serve the city and its people. You had better be convincing."
"I will be," I say.
Councilor Feng turns back to Mrs. Ellison as if nothing untoward had happened. "Thank you for allowing me to visit your beautiful home. It has been an honor."
"Thank you for visiting us, Councilor. You have honored us."
They share a final greeting in Cantonese, then the councilor leaves. I keep my hand on my face and look at the floor with wide eyes.
"People are so hard to predict," Mr. Ellison says lightly when the councilor is gone. "One minute they love you, the next they want to tear you down. The people are not reacting the way we thought."
Mrs. Ellison flinches at his words. They have a double meaning aimed specifically at her. I don't understand the meaning, and I don't want to. I don't want any of their secrets. She quickly fixes her expression. "They love the girl," she adds. "It still reflects kindly on us that she's under our care. We're her chosen family. We'll make sure that everyone realizes we're sad to see her go but proud she's chosen to continue her education."
"We must control them. We must not let the talk spread," Mr. Ellison frets.
How afraid they are. How weak they look as they contemplate all the ways in which their power can be taken from them. I would pity them if they didn't sicken me so much.
"The girl's speech will help," Mrs. Ellison decides.
"It might not be good enough. We may need a larger distraction."
"Like what?"
Mr. Ellison turns away from the window and looks at his wife seriously. "Like a councilor's niece getting married."
Mrs. Ellison considers it
. "The drama of a marriage won't sate them for long," she says.
"But it will draw attention away from the girl and calm most of the voters. We can handle the more rabid dissenters the way we always do," Mr. Ellison adds.
"You could be right," Mrs. Ellison says.
"You should talk to Ace. Explain to him his duties to the family," Mr. Ellison says.
"I will," Mrs. Ellison says.
My stomach drops. They mean Karen. She's the niece of a councilor. They want her to marry Ace. I think of everything I know of him. He seems happy enough with her, and they get along well. They're both citizens. And, more importantly, he has to play his part. He has to look like the perfect child. He feels obligated to his parents. They'll talk him into it eventually. He'll marry her. I'm suddenly sure of it.
I don't know why it makes me feel so sad. It seems so ridiculous around everything else. I turn away and go to my borrowed room without asking, aware they have stopped paying me attention. They are more concerned about maintaining their power than making sure I obey.
I sit on the bed and drop my hand from my cheek. The sting has already faded. I look at the opposite wall for a solid minute. The anger and disappointment are overflowing in my chest.
Everyone keeps bullying me. Everyone keeps pushing at me, testing my limits to see if I'm something to be afraid of or if I'm in need of a hard lesson. And they certainly fear a lot. It's weird and upsetting to know that I'm chained by people afraid of so much. Their fear is most likely the cause of my imprisonment. But it doesn't change my circumstances or the fact that they have all the power. They are the masters.
I wonder when I will reach my limit. I know it will be the death of me.
Chapter 23
Controllers (Book 1) Page 23