The Eve Illusion

by Giovanna Fletcher

  Suddenly I remember.

  My heart picks up again as I replay the events prior to my deep sleep and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. I lie awake, reliving the way we were together. Clumsy, nervous, happy, euphoric.

  The event the world had been waiting for was definitely not how anyone had expected it. Least of all me!

  Shit … My hands are shaking. Adrenalin is coursing around my body and I feel beyond awake suddenly as the memories flash around my head. Skin. Lips. Legs. Sweat. I want to save them all, keep them clear and fresh so they never fade away, but they are already diluted versions of the real event. I guess nothing could ever compare to that.

  Ever.

  I breathe in slowly and count to ten.

  Chill the hell out, Bram.

  Finally I settle. My hands are calm and I sigh, feeling the excited tension ease. Eve rolls over in her sleep, turning her naked body away from me. I catch the corners of her lips in the lamplight and see that she’s dreaming. Content. Happy. As am I.

  She used to sleep like that. A long time ago. Before all the talk of Potentials and repopulation. Lying next to her in the silence of night I’m reminded of her room in the Dome on the nights when I would stay with her, as Holly, for sleepovers. Sitting up until the ‘sunrise’, which was whenever the EPO decided it was. Sharing secrets, making new ones. For Vivian and my father, these were the most insightful sessions, giving them glimpses into Eve’s mind that they would eventually use to manipulate her. For us it was forming an unbreakable bond, deeper than she had with the Mothers, more real than she had with the other Hollys.

  Eve sighs and her hair catches on her breath. My mind recalls the night we first touched.

  ‘Can we hold hands?’ she asked, so seemingly innocent although we both felt the rush of rebellion as our hearts fluttered at this new sensation. The charge of static that leaped from our fingertips as the energy beams of Holly’s projection were disturbed.

  After that our sleepovers ended. Eve’s sleep patterns changed, though, with nightmares, night terrors, sleepwalking. Her door was locked at night during those phases.

  Eve tucks the thin sheet between her legs, hugging it to her bare chest and revealing her naked back.

  The sight brings a light flutter of laughter to me. I can’t help it.

  I look away, trying to compose myself but …

  The laugh needs to break free.

  The more I hold it in the harder it tries to escape.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I can’t laugh!

  But I must.

  I do!

  It hisses out as a suppressed snort or perhaps a muffled sneeze and my body convulses as I try to keep it back.

  ‘What was that?’ Eve croaks, half turning her head to look at me.

  ‘Nothing,’ I whisper.

  She turns fully and sees my watering eyes. ‘Are you crying?’

  I blast out a throaty laugh that echoes around the wooden room. ‘No! No! Not crying … I’m sorry. I just … I don’t even know why I’m laughing,’ I say, covering my face. I’m a mess.

  She must think I’m nuts.

  Through the gaps in my fingers I see Eve notice that she’s showing a little more flesh than she realized and cover herself.

  ‘Is it me?’ she asks, becoming self-aware and shy.

  Pull it together, Bram!

  ‘Absolutely not!’ I say. No laugh. Dead straight. ‘I just realized where I was. This situation. Us! I just understood how absurd life is.’

  ‘Absurd?’ she repeats.

  ‘Yeah, you know. Like, what happened last night. It was …’

  ‘Absurd …’

  ‘You know what I meant.’

  ‘Well, I would have said a few things before absurd! Magical, perhaps. Wonderful? Amazing –’

  ‘Special,’ I interrupt. ‘It was special, Eve.’

  ‘You’re absurd,’ she gibes, and relaxes a little under the sheet. ‘And you’re naked too, by the way.’

  I glance down and see, yes, I am. ‘Is there room over there for two?’ I tease, trying to find a way inside the cocoon she’s created around herself.

  ‘No!’ She smirks, tucking the sheet around her so that I have to fight to cover my modesty as she watches, giggling.

  ‘So now who’s laughing?’ I say, as I roll over her, pulling her on top of me until we’re face to face.

  The faint lamp flickers and in the momentary darkness our lips find each other again.

  Again?

  As we kiss she loosens the sheet between us. It slips away and our warm, bare skin touches again.

  Again …

  This time less clumsy.

  More intense.

  Our eyes never breaking contact until it’s over and we lie still in a world of our own beneath the world.

  ‘Morning,’ I say softly, handing her a mug as she wakes.

  ‘Coffee?’ she says hopefully.

  ‘Not quite,’ I reply.

  She sits up and looks into the mug of lukewarm sugared water.

  ‘Hey, at least it’s not floodweed,’ I say, taking a sip from my own mug.

  ‘Were you watching me again?’ She smiles.

  ‘Yeah. You were dribbling in your sleep,’ I say.

  She throws the pillow at me as I fake disgust.

  We laugh but silence quickly follows, falling over the room, and I’m very aware of how loud my swallowing is as I gulp the mildly sweet water. It seems to slosh down my throat, like a waterfall.

  I stop drinking and put the mug down.

  ‘You okay?’ she asks.

  ‘Me? Yeah! You?’

  She nods, but I’m not sure she’s telling the truth.

  This feels new, not being able to read Eve. Years of experience in dealing with her emotions, studying her body language, learning to translate the nuances of her expressions. All that fails me now, as though she’s changed overnight.

  Perhaps we both have.

  ‘There are fresh clothes for you. I mean, they’re damp, obviously, everything is, but they’re clean.’ I point towards the small basket where a selection of outfits has been placed for her.

  Eve wraps the sheet around herself, steps out of bed and walks towards the basket of clothes. The sheet catches on the bedpost and falls to the floor, leaving her naked in the middle of the room.

  I quickly avert my eyes and hear her muttering as she tries to pull the sheet back around her. In the end, she resigns herself to crouching behind the throne.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  ‘I’m not sure any queen has ever hidden behind her throne before,’ I tease. ‘Especially not naked!’

  I hear her laughing. Genuinely laughing. It’s the best sound ever.

  ‘You can come out, I’m not looking,’ I reassure her.

  ‘You might as well. It’s nothing you’ve not already seen now,’ she says, stepping out into the room with flushed cheeks and the rebellious grin that only ever appeared when we were about to get into trouble on the Drop.

  She goes towards the clothes but her hand lingers on the basket.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  ‘I guess a lot of people have seen me like this,’ Eve says. She’s staring at her naked body in one of the antique mirrors on the far wall.

  ‘You were monitored your whole life, yes, but there was very strict protocol for your privacy,’ I explain.

  ‘Had you ever seen –’

  ‘Seen you like this before? Never. Only the Mothers did, Eve, when they washed and clothed you,’ I say, and it’s true.

  She puts her new clothes on. A grey jumpsuit and a worn wool sweater. I see that she’s thinking, but I can only guess at what.

  ‘Should we talk about last night?’ I ask. I don’t know why I asked that. I’m hoping she doesn’t want to talk! Talking about it means thinking about it, and if she thinks about it, she might decide she’s made a colossal mistake.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she replies.
/>   ‘Sure,’ I say. Again, I don’t know why the hell I said that.

  There is silence.

  I feel the unbearable urge to fill it. ‘Look, if you’re thinking last night was a big mistake and you want to forget about it then that’s totally fine. I understand. It was a big day for everyone, but even more so for you, and so easy to get carried away in the excitement of the moment. I get it. Say no more. It never happened.’ I seal my lips with an imaginary zip.

  Eve stares at me and blinks slowly. ‘You waffle when you’re not hiding behind Holly,’ she says.

  She’s right. Holly gave me the freedom to push boundaries that I, Bram, wouldn’t.

  ‘So … you don’t want to forget it?’ I ask.

  She smiles. ‘No. I want to remember last night for ever,’ she says, walking over to me. She takes my mug and places it on the table next to the bed so our hands are free. ‘It was special. Not for anyone other than us,’ she says, taking my hands. ‘But I think it’s probably best that it stays between us.’

  Us. She just called us US!

  ‘That okay?’ she asks.

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘There’s a lot to focus on, and I don’t want anything to distract us from what we have to do,’ she says, squeezing my hands. ‘You’ve done more for me than anyone else has. No one will ever understand what we’ve been through together. Only us.’

  ‘Only us,’ I repeat, as she nestles her head on my chest and we enjoy a moment of silence.

  A heavy fist knocks on the door.

  ‘Morning, lovers,’ Chubs calls, through the wood.

  Eve sighs. ‘“Only us” didn’t last long.’

  17

  Michael

  The concrete corridor is quiet. The only sound is the barely audible murmur of four pilots talking among themselves within their dorms: they were dismissed earlier, and ordered to their rooms to await further instruction. Their particular skills are not currently required.

  Without Eve, Holly is redundant.

  Since her kidnapping – or escape, depending on which way you want to look at it – suspicion has hung thick in the air throughout the EPO Tower. A breach is near impossible, let alone actually getting her out. Were more people within the organization in on it? With Hartman and Bram confirmed traitors, both of them pilots from Squad H, it seems logical that Miss Silva and Dr Wells turn their attention to the four remaining pilots: Locke, Jackson, Kramer and Watts.

  I won’t lie, the thought of placing any of those men under arrest doesn’t fill me with excitement. They are highly trained and know this place inside out. Since we lost Eve, tension has been high, trust in our security measures is low, and the last thing we want is a battle between two teams on the same side.

  Could things get nasty?

  It appears Dr Wells thinks it’s a possibility, judging by our orders: Arrest and detain all pilots for questioning. Use force if necessary. Non-lethal. No fatalities.

  Great.

  As we approach their living quarters I unroll a thin square of transparent film and slap it against the wall.

  Three, two, one …

  The wall behind the square becomes transparent and we peer through into the room beyond, unnoticed by those on the other side.

  ‘Jackson and Locke.’ I speak into my visor.

  ‘We have visual on Kramer and Watts,’ Hernandez replies through my earpiece. A few hand signals are exchanged and we divide our squad, three on each door.

  After a nod, confirming everyone is in position, I raise my arm in the air and clearly close my fist, the signal to ‘go dark’. The Final Guard, under my command, simultaneously switch visors to night vision as the dorm and hallway lighting die.

  My face is illuminated by the green glow from my visor, showing me the pitch-black world around me.

  ‘What the hell?’ comes a voice from inside. Jackson.

  ‘Power cut?’ asks his partner, Locke.

  Outside the next doorway, the Murphy twins are in position with Hernandez. Franklin and Reynolds are with me.

  ‘Check the hallway!’ Jackson barks.

  This is it. My heart is pounding and I can’t help but wish Ketch was here overseeing this.

  The door slides open and a head pokes out into the pitch-black hallway, inches away.

  I see Locke as clear as day, his body heat radiating in night-vision. He can’t see a thing, judging by his dilated pupils and wide eyes searching the darkness.

  I don’t hesitate and take full advantage of his blindness.

  I simply place my fingertip on his temple. The charge of energy from my Pacify Glove on such a vulnerable spot renders him unconscious instantly and Franklin stops his limp body hitting the floor as he slumps.

  ‘Well?’ Jackson calls from inside. ‘Where’s the emergency lighting? I can’t see a bloody thing!’

  I slip inside. Silent and fast.

  The last thing I want is for him to –

  ‘Aaah, shit!’ I scream in pain as blinding light explodes through my visor.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ he growls.

  I rip off my visor and see Jackson towering over me, a torch in his hand illuminating my face.

  ‘You’re under arrest. Remain where you are,’ I say, but it sounds feeble. Pathetic.

  ‘You’re arresting us? Whose orders?’

  ‘Miss Silva. On your knees, Jackson.’

  ‘Where’s Locke?’ he asks.

  I turn my head to the door.

  WHAM!

  His torch connects with my head. I spread my fingers wide, charging the Pacify Glove for a full stun. I raise my arm but he knocks it away and drives his other fist into my jaw with a crack.

  ‘Back. Up,’ I splutter, but Hernandez has already leaped into the dorm. He’s equal in brute strength to Jackson and flattens him to the ground with a swift tackle.

  I crouch down and place my finger on his spine, the charge making his body go rigid then limp, and he lies unconscious on the floor.

  ‘Thanks!’ I breathe. ‘What about the other two?’

  ‘They came quietly,’ Murphy E. says from the doorway and I see the two silhouetted men facing the wall outside.

  ‘Looks like you chose the wrong dorm,’ Murphy F. laughs, and I nod in agreement while rubbing my throbbing chin.

  ‘Let’s get them down to Detention Level before this one wakes up,’ I say, stepping over Jackson’s body.

  We step into the cool air of the Detention Level. None of the sleek design aesthetics from upstairs grace these walls. Just cold steel and rendered concrete. People who come in here rarely come back out.

  The thought sends a shudder down my spine as I think of how close I was to being escorted here.

  Thanks, Ketch. Our mother made him promise to take care of me when we signed up for the EPO and, boy, did he come good.

  ‘Separate cells?’ Hernandez asks, as we approach the glass prisons.

  ‘No. Miss Silva wants them all together,’ I reply.

  Jackson groans as we drag his heavy arse across the concrete. ‘Innocent,’ he mumbles, as he slowly regains consciousness.

  ‘Well, if you’re all innocent, you’ll be out and back up top in no time,’ I say, as we come to a stop.

  The wall beside us is made entirely of glass, revealing an empty cell. I remove the Pacify Glove and place my hand on the small frosted section. It instantly reacts to my presence, outlining my palm with harsh red light.

  It blinks green.

  Clearance granted.

  The cell beyond the glass glows too, readying itself for prisoners.

  A rectangle seam appears in the glass, revealing the only entrance as the now visible door opens.

  ‘Inside,’ Guard Murphy E. orders.

  The pilots don’t argue. There’s no point. Even if they overpowered us there’s nowhere to run to in here.

  They trudge inside, the glass reseals itself and the frosted panel registers four prisoners.

  ‘What happens now?’ Locke asks throug
h the glass.

  ‘You are to be questioned,’ Miss Silva says coolly.

  We all spin around to see her walk towards us, sandwiched between the two security officers, their faces obscured by their frosted visors.

  We salute.

  ‘At ease. Good work, Final Guard.’ She nods.

  The team of pilots erupt into a chaotic protest of questions and accusations. Words crack and distort over the intercom.

  ‘Mute cell,’ Miss Silva calmly commands and the silent hallway returns in an instant. The prisoners within continue their animated defence but we hear nothing.

  ‘Turner, fetch Hartman from his cell,’ Miss Silva instructs, not even looking me in the eye.

  ‘The traitor, Miss Silva?’ I ask.

  ‘You heard your order,’ barks her guard.

  Jesus!

  I nod and signal for Reynolds to assist me and he follows me away from the cell.

  Reynolds and I don’t need to look at each other to know we’re both thinking the same: shit is about to hit the fan.

  Miss Silva doesn’t show up on the Detention Level without reason, without an agenda. I mean, she just had her entire squad of pilots thrown into a high-security prison. Something’s going on.

  We march past the dark, empty cells towards the brighter end of the level, illuminated by harsh white light pouring out of the sealed rooms.

  The first occupied cell approaches and we glance at the old man within.

  The glass wall registers our presence and automatically displays his details.

  NAME: ERNIE WARREN

  CRIME: TREASON. ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING. FUGITIVE

  SENTENCE: PENDING

  He winces in pain as he sits in the single chair in the centre of the cell. My stomach churns as he cradles his injury, the arm he lost on the same day that my brother was injured. A lot happened that day.

  We walk on and white fluorescent light pours out again.

  NAME: MOTHER KADI

  CRIME: TREASON. CONSPIRATOR. ASSISTED KIDNAPPING

  SENTENCE: PENDING

  The woman within doesn’t deserve this. She devoted her life to Eve and this is how we repay her. My heart aches for her as she sits on the edge of her hard mattress, staring at the wall opposite. There’s something calming about her. There’s a wisdom behind her watery eyes, experience in her wrinkled face. She’s a woman who is unafraid.