Blood Awakens

by Jessaca Willis

  Santiago nodded. “Any change?”

  “Not yet, but Darach thinks she might wake soon, now that she’s hydrated and nourished.”

  Again he nodded, clearly as uncomfortable with small talk as she was.

  “I brought you some bread.”

  “Ah, that should sustain me.”

  The sarcasm lightened both of their moods, and Santiago tossed the roll at her with playful force. Reflexes not what they normally were, it hit her chest and ricocheted forward, but she wasn’t so slow that she let it get farther than arm’s reach before snatching it from the air. Santiago’s smile widened when she rolled her eyes at him and took a bite. The dough was stale and likely from yesterday’s batch, but she swallowed it nonetheless.

  Muffled by chewing the rock-hard substance, she asked, “Are you sure you and your sister aren’t twins?”

  Thoughtfully, Santiago handed her his canteen. “Pretty sure she’s a few years older than me. Why?”

  For a second, she considered telling Santiago that Graciela was getting her food too. But then, accidentally, for longer than was comfortable, the two of them made eye contact. It was like having a charged defibrillator make contact with her entire body.

  “Nothing. Just that she’s a terrible throw too.”

  His mouth fell agape, and it looked as if he might protest until the corners of it snuck up the side of his face again. “I guess I should’ve taken up basecball instead.”

  Mara practically squirted water from her nose she snorted so hard. “I believe it’s baseball, without a c.”

  Now it was him rolling his eyes. “Whatever. I felt gross saying it anyway.”

  Quietly they sat watching over the woman, sharing the large roll of bread. Mara couldn’t help but notice Santiago’s scrutinizing gauge while she ate every last bite of her food.

  “See, all gone. You don’t have to worry about me starving myself now.”

  His voice was suddenly flat, all playfulness removed. “That’s not why I worry.”

  “Oh,” she said, unable to mask the curiosity with confusion. “Why are you here then?”

  “I came because I figured you could use a break and because I feel partially responsible for this woman being here. I want to help.”

  And there it was. It always came down to this. For once, Mara just wished people would stop trying to get her to vacate.

  Before she could protest, he continued, “I’m not telling you that you need to leave. Trust me; I know you wouldn’t even if I asked.” He gave her a crooked smile. “But if she wakes up, you’re going to wish you weren’t running on fumes.”

  The second half of his response took her by surprise a bit. Mara pondered it over thoroughly. Over the past couple of days, she had managed only a couple of one- or two-hour naps. The rest of her time was spent pacing the room and hovering over the unconscious woman. Admittedly, she had noticed her brain slowing. It used to happen to her during long study sessions before exams.

  Without sleep, once Laurel awoke, she might not be able to ask her everything that she needed to know, too loopy from the lack of rest. Worse, what if the woman had bad news for them? She couldn’t risk not being at top performance.

  “You look tired, Mara. Beautiful as always, but still tired. I know you’ve barely slept. At the very least, let me sit with her for an hour or so, then you can get some rest. I promise, if she stirs or even twitches, I will wake you immediately. I don’t want you to miss this opportunity to get information about your family. I…you know I know what it’s like to want answers, to need to know.”

  His eyes burned the side of her face while her own focus drifted back to Laurel. There was a warm sensation in her hand that she hadn’t noticed before. At some point, he had taken hers into his own, a gesture of offering comfort and support.

  Suddenly aware of the implication any physical closeness could have, Mara jerked her hand from his without a second thought.

  Not a moment too soon either as Graciela entered the room, an air of snooping about her. No food in hand, yet she’d been away for nearly half an hour.

  “Oh, Santi? What are you doing in here?” Graciela’s eyes bulged, a feigned sign of surprise.

  “Where have you been?” Something had him on the defense, and Mara couldn’t tell if he saw through his sister’s rouse as well or if there was some other underlying reason. “Shouldn’t you be in here treating your patient?”

  Her eyes flickered to the floor just to dart furiously from side to side. Mara half laughed to herself. The poor woman couldn’t lie to save her life.

  “I asked her to leave. I was tired of everyone hovering over me and wanted some time alone,” Mara said and shot a glare in Santiago’s direction when she added, “A lot of good that did me though.”

  While she continued staring Santiago down, she noticed Graciela’s posture ease.

  Santiago looked out the corner of his eyes, “Sorry, I—”

  “It’s all right. I enjoyed your company.” An involuntary gurgle freed itself from the depths of her stomach. “More so than I enjoyed that bread, that’s for sure. Would you mind seeing if there’s anything else to eat? Something more substantial?”

  He eyed the two of them suspiciously, his sister most of all. For someone who was usually so consumed in himself, he was being especially observant at a time when they needed him to be otherwise.

  “Sure,” he finally said, but before leaving the women to the elephant in the room, he turned back to Mara and said, “In the wolf’s mouth, or whatever. With Laurel I mean.”

  Mara couldn’t help but smile and watch speechless as Graciela’s surprising brother left the tent without another word.

  Graciela came and sat beside Mara. “How is she?”

  A sigh escaped her. “Still sleeping, like a cursed princess.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m the one that whacked her upside the head,” Mara replied matter-of-factly.

  “You can’t blame yourself for—”

  “No food,” Mara stated flatly. Currently, there was something more pressing on her mind than discussing the soldier’s constant state of unconsciousness.

  “Hmm?” Graciela’s face pinched.

  In the brief time Mara had actually spent studying to become a lawyer, she’d learned to state the facts rather than ask question. It was human nature to dodge questions. “You left to get us breakfast, and you returned instead with a stuffed animal.” Facts though, they couldn’t be debated. It was human nature to crack when it was apparent the jig was up.

  Graciela heaved a great sigh and began fidgeting with the blue monkey in her lap. There was something different about her friend, more secretive, yes, but possibly something more. It hadn’t come to mind until now, but Mara was reminded of what Sean had said during the festival. There was so much concern in his tone that something was wrong with Graciela. At the time, Mara had just brushed it off. Now she was beginning to wonder if there was more to the story.

  “That was my plan, to bring us food. But then I left and remembered the stadium. I…I hadn’t been back since…everything.”

  There was a long pause then, the kind that dragged for longer than seemed necessary and would be uncomfortable under normal circumstances, but in this instance, it was a silence steeped in inward contemplation for the both of them. Mara let it last as long as Graciela wanted it to, while she too had the realization that she hadn’t been back since the attack either. She wondered what the state of it was. Had anyone cleaned the blood from the injured? The blood taken from her as a spectacle?

  “I went back this morning. One of the Sanguinatores, he was holding something before—”

  A thunderous, rasping gasp startled them both, and the woman lying on the bed, the one they’d all been waiting for, came to life before their eyes. Laurel tried coughing a few times, her throat too dry and seeming to cause immense pain.

  In a frenzy, Graciela ran for a cup of water, thankfully having a fresh supply nearby.<
br />
  Gingerly, the woman took a sip, careful not to overindulge, although seeming quite tempted to do so.

  Everyone closely followed each other’s movements, unsure of what was to come next, Mara possibly most of all. She’d been waiting for this moment for days now. Longer if you counted the past year and a half since she lost communication with her sisters.

  The woman lying on the cot examined the two of them and then the room, only pausing for a second on Mara.

  To her surprise, Laurel didn’t speak. Instead, she seemed content on scanning the room, taking notice of the cupboard of gauze and medicine, a nearby tray of sterilized tools, and the other—now empty—cots. Despite her stoicism, it was apparent she was on edge in the unfamiliar setting.

  Although Mara had questions she wanted answered, Graciela took the opportunity to practice her medical training. “Hello, I am Nurse Canul Ortiz, you can call me Graciela. I’d like to ask you a couple questions. Laurel, right?” One pointer and one middle finger up, she addressed her patient. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  The woman blinked and cleared her throat but didn’t seem interested in answering. When she finally broke eye contact, with great effort she swiveled her neck to face Mara. “You’re the woman that hit me with your stick.”

  Not the best way to start off, but Mara also couldn’t say it was the wrong decision. “You were approaching our community moments after an attack.”

  Laurel neither acknowledged the statement nor regarded it in defense. She turned back to Graciela, still holding two fingers up for her to identify. “You look like the boy who was with her.”

  It made her giggle. “He would have a fit if he heard you call him a boy. But yes, he is my brother, Santiago. This is Mara. She’s one of the leaders here so sometimes she can get carried away a bit. She’s very sorry for hitting you. She’s been sitting with you for the past two days to make sure you were all right.”

  “Two days?” the officer asked in disbelief.

  Graciela elbowed Mara lightly in the rib.

  “I’m sorry for any panic or disorientation I caused. We didn’t know who you were or any of your intentions. At the time, we were searching for the people responsible for attacking us, and we worried you might’ve been one of them.”

  “It’s understandable. I would have done the same thing for my people.” As she talked, Mara noted the intimidating nature of the woman, even as she lay exhausted on the bed. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in a community called Hope, located in the Pacific Union,” Mara answered, in an attempt to be vague about the exact whereabouts, in case this was a trap. However, rare was the instance when you could hold someone at arm’s length with distrust and expect them to trust you blindly. Laurel needed something, a connection to encourage honesty. “Did you know you were in the Pacific Union? You’ve come a long way.”

  The statement worked, drawing Laurel into a seated position as she took notice of Mara more closely. “I have.”

  “How did you get here, Laurel?” The question was asked with sweetness, giving it a less interrogative quality than it would’ve sounded coming from Mara. “Mara tells us you’re from Italy.”

  “How did you…” Laurel eyed Mara with skepticism and intrigue. But, almost instantly, it blended into something akin to jubilation. “Anche sei italia?”

  Mara nodded. “Milano.”

  “That’s where I’m from.” The excitement caused another fit of coughs. After she washed them down with water, she resumed. “About six months ago, we crossed the Atlantic Ocean and landed somewhere along the east coast. What we didn’t know, at least not for certain, was that the Unions were in worse shape than Europe.”

  “We? Are there more of you? We didn’t see anyone else when—”

  By the look Laurel cast them, the answer to that question was a grim one.

  It was no surprise to Mara that it was Graciela who veered the conversation down a different path. “Why did you come to the Unions?”

  Laurel let out a throaty laugh. “Who knows? It was a ridiculous mission. It was rumored that the presidents of the three Unions knew more about the Awakening than they were publically letting on. We thought maybe they’d have answers to help guide us to help…”

  Though her voice trailed off, Mara refused to let up. “Help what?”

  “Not ‘what,’ but ‘who.’ I’m not sure when you left or how much you know about Italian politics since the Awakening.”

  “Not much unfortunately. I left before everything happened and haven’t heard from anyone back home for a long time now.”

  “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have, given the challenges with communication. Have you heard of Il Pristino?”

  “The Pristine?” Graciela verified. Apparently even in Spanish the words were recognizable enough.

  “Never heard of them,” Mara replied.

  “That’s what became of the Italian government and the majority of people who did not become Awakened. They call themselves Il Pristino, and they believe using Awakened powers is criminal. Considering the Awakening didn’t impact Italia like it had everywhere else, the country’s mission early on was to maintain order. And they did. A new drug was developed, one that repressed the Awakened from accessing their powers. It needed to be taken daily, and clinics popped up in all of the major cities. It was simple: if you were Awakened, you reported to your local clinic every day. If you failed to do so, you were hunted, put on trial, and most likely executed for terrorism.”

  Graciela snuck a glance at Mara who was doing her best to appear outwardly calm. But this news had her riddled with concern. Her heartbeat pounded thinking about whether her sisters and father had complied.

  Laurel took another sip of water and cleared her throat. “I worked for President Giordano.”

  Suddenly, her words sounded as if they were emitting from two amplified speakers, each word more precious than the next. President Giordano, after all, was Mara’s uncle.

  “I took a vow to protect and serve his wife and children, none of whom were Awakened either...until a year and a half in.”

  Because Mara had gone to extreme lengths to keep her connections to the government, however foreign, a secret here, the only thing keeping her from exploding was actively holding her breath. Every word made her lungs swell in anticipation.

  “When Mrs. Giordano discovered she was an empath, they tried to hide it from the public eye at first. There were a few of us who knew, of course, but even we were sworn to secrecy, threatened if we didn’t uphold our vows.”

  “But not everyone is as loyal as you are,” Mara chimed in, the story unfolding before her. Dread welled within her. It didn’t take much to connect the dots: this woman had been sworn to protect them, yet, here she was, alone. Mara’s aunt and uncle, her cousins.

  “Word got out that she was Awakened, and rumors spread like Nihanism after the discovery of Paníhava.”

  “Vigliacchi!” Mara could no longer contain herself. “Was it Carlo Renzi? That spineless—”

  “I can’t say who it was for certain, but my suspicions are with you. We’ll never know for sure though.”

  Before anyone could notice, Mara turned to face the door and let a tear slid down her cheek. Then another. Not only had Mara abandoned her father and siblings, but she’d abandoned everyone. That decision festered inside her like the plague, always waiting, always reminding her that she was a coward who’d fled.

  When she turned back away, she didn’t wipe the stains down her cheeks. “What happened next?”

  Graciela noticed Mara’s sadness and wrapped her in a quick hug. Mara leaned into it enough to find a moment of comfort but waited for Laurel’s response.

  The Italian soldier lowered her voice and straightened herself against the back of the bed. “It happened fast. Demands were stated. Threats were made. Almost unanimously the government voted to overthrow President Giordano, and for a short time, they imprisoned his wife as well. The day she was released, the Giord
ano family, myself, and a handful of other loyal guards fled the country. He had it in his mind that the Unions would’ve been better prepared for the Awakening than Italia was, so we came here. But by the time we arrived we were too late. Mrs. Giordano was already severely sick, and she passed the day after we docked.”

  Graciela’s hand flew to her mouth, freeing Mara from her grip.

  Mara could only nod. If only she could’ve lasted a little while longer, her aunt could’ve made it all this way with Laurel. She would’ve been safe here, could’ve learned to control her empathic abilities.

  Now she was just another distant memory. An echo.

  To Mara’s gratitude, Laurel appeared as somber as she, her voice catching when she said, “The president and his daughters buried his wife, with nothing more than a few sticks to use for a headstone. After that, everything took a turn for the worse.”

  “Worse? But how could it get—” Graciela gasped, a shrill sound that could’ve cut through steel. She whispered, “His daughters.”

  “Struck with grief, President Giordano lashed out on everyone in the group, especially the Awakened who accompanied us. He became delusional. He was convinced they had somehow infected his wife. Eventually, they left us, and in doing so, put us at a disadvantage, out in the open with no Awakened for protection against other Awakened. Not that I blame them. They didn’t deserve the emotional abuse, and I am certain they found a safe community to stay with by now.”

  Mara and Graciela exchanged a look. Depending on where they had landed and the community they sought refuge in, those odds weren’t very high. For all they knew, they could’ve been among the hundreds who perished at Surviving & Thriving.

  “That just left me, one other staff, the president, and his daughters. I don’t care to go into the details about what happened next except to say that one by one we lost everyone until I was the only one left.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, but not a single one fell.

  Mara wished she had half of her resolve, but knew it was a losing battle when she felt her chin quiver. “Priscilla? Simona?”