Caged (The Idyllic Series Book 1)

by Amy Johnson

  Emory finally looks over at him and sighs.

  “I didn’t plan on it. Exactly how little do you think of me?”

  The words turn circles behind Linux’s eyes and his lips quiver. He doesn’t think as highly of her as he used to. Something’s different in the tunnels. I can feel the tension like electricity in the air.

  “Go rest, Eden,” Emory continues. “I’ll meet with you in the morning.”

  I exhale before pulling Knox towards the exit. Linux follows closely behind, mumbling under his breath.

  “And, Eden?”

  I glance over my shoulder at Emory, lifting my chin at her.

  “Thank you for bringing the chip to Linux. Welcome home.”

  I nod and walk out of the meeting place.

  We walk together in silence, splashing through the water and mud alike. Linux breaks the silence first by clearing his throat and saying,

  “What a terrible welcome home party.”

  A strangled laugh escapes my lips, and I stop walking to catch my breath.

  “You could say that again,” I mumble, leaning against the wall for a minute. Knox stands beside me, wrapping his arms around himself.

  “Okay. What a terrible--”

  “Linux, I didn’t mean literally.”

  He smirks at me and pushes his glasses up on his nose.

  “I just wanted to hear you laugh again.”

  I flick the end of his nose with my middle finger and glance over at Knox.

  “I’m sorry. They aren’t usually like that.”

  Knox lets out one short breath, and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

  “They do not usually attack strangers they find in dimly lit hallways?”

  “Well, they actually do that, but, arguing with me--that’s new.”

  “It is okay,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I learned a few things tonight.”

  I smirk.

  “Like what?”

  “I learned not to wander without you,” he says, brushing dirt off my shoulder. “I learned not to cross your older brother. Most importantly, though, this entire thing showed me that the Luddites protect their own. Sometimes without rationality.”

  I laugh and nod.

  “That’s just what happens when Eden brings a boy home,” Linux mumbles as he walks ahead of us.

  We follow behind him.

  “I cannot blame them for attacking me,” Knox whispers to me. “I am a stranger, and I do look like a machine.”

  “But you’re not,” I whisper back.

  “Why do you trust me so much?”

  I look up at him and shake my head.

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “A very serious one. Why do you trust me?”

  “Because,” I say, shrugging, “you helped me. First, when I needed comfort, and then, when I needed out. You’ve never given me a reason not to.”

  He nods, mumbling something that sounds like “I’m sorry.”

  Before I can ask him what he’s apologizing for, we arrive in the sleeping area. Linux gives me another hug before disappearing back into his private space. I lead Knox to our corner, shaking the flag blanket as he lowers himself down onto the ground.

  “It’s not a mattress,” I say, sitting beside him and spreading the blanket over our legs, “but it’s all we have.”

  Knox sighs, wraps both arms around me, and pulls me into his side.

  “It will work,” he mumbles, and when I glance up at him, his eyes are already closed. I pull the blanket up over his bare chest, knowing how cold he must be. Tucking it into his armpits, I scoot away from him and lay down on the ground.

  “Sleep good, Knox,” I whisper, clutching his hand under the blanket as I close my own eyes, lulled to sleep by the sound of forty-five bodies breathing around me. The world above us lives on, and faint music drifts down. Anything is better than silence, though.

  Anything is better than being caged.

  Chapter 14: Suspicious

  Eden

  Warmth washes over me, coating my body like water from the river. A gentle breeze lifts up the ends of my dark hair, carrying it to my left. Hundreds of tiny pink flowers tickle my cheeks as the wind twirls them around me. I stare overhead at the never-ending sky.

  Clouds roll by as if coasting on waves of water, driven by the faint wind surrounding me. They remind me of the white blanket in my room at the Anthros; I reach my hand up toward them to touch their undersides.

  Grasping empty air, I sigh and let my hand fall back down onto the ground with a hollow thump.

  I’ve never seen clouds so pure white, unmarred by the air pollution from the city. Likewise, the sky here seems new--fresh brushstrokes of paint on a clean canvas. This is what the world looked like before the machines began to multiply.

  I turn my head toward the wind, taking in the sight of the ocean of flowers around me. I sit on a hilltop. Here, the pink flowers stand no taller than my pinky, and their petite petals wave in the wind. Farther along, rows of tulips roll over the grass in more colors than I can name. Some match the yellow sun; others rival the pinky-sized flowers in hue. Some blend orange and yellow into a mirage of sunsets and others combine blue and purple in a way that I can’t begin to name.

  Cyrus loves tulips. Our parents returned with a picture book on Holland, a country we didn’t know existed, when I was very small. Cyrus opened it every night for weeks, pouring over the faded ink printings and ripped pages.

  Cyrus couldn’t sit still long enough to learn to read, but he adored those pictures. I’ve never seen the flowers in real life, but I would recognize them in an instant.

  I shift my gaze as I push myself into a sitting position and look behind me.

  A river snakes through the field, filling the air with the sound of its roaring waters. On the other side, sharp lines of a city cut into the horizon, black and ominous. The skyscrapers press into the blue sky, threatening to cut holes in the canvas. The skyline is littered with spirals of smoke that curl upwards.

  Druxy.

  I recognize the tall, glass administrative building of the Anthros reflecting the bright sunlight and colorful flowers.

  Why is it burning?

  “Eden.”

  A voice on the wind catches my ear. I turn away from my city, eyes falling on the sight of Knox standing on another hill far away. He wears the white uniform of the Anthros and a glint of metal cuts through his wrist.

  He’s wearing a cuff.

  “Eden, I am- ”

  His voice slips away from me, caught by the wind, even though his hands cup around his mouth. I mirror him, shouting against the wind.

  “Knox! Come closer. I can’t hear you.”

  He shakes his head and takes a step away from me.

  “I am so sorry.“

  I rise to my feet, pushing through the wind that seems to be increasing. It pulls at my clothes, threatening to send me back down to the ground. I tilt my body forward and walk toward Knox.

  “You’re sorry? What for?”

  The closer I get to Knox, the more of his appearance I see. Ash peppers his white uniform, flakes sticking in his messy brown hair like snowflakes. His skin looks ashy as well. His cheek and jawbones cut across his face. His eyes, once beautiful and unique, sit in hollow sockets, and wallow in their own darkness.

  “Please. Stay away,” he says, raising his hands in front of him like a shield. The skin on his hands drips with red, thick liquid, huge drops falling to the ground, painting the flowers beneath him. It turns the ground under him into pink carnage.

  “What’s wrong, Knox? Let me help you.”

  He shakes his head, lowering it until his chin rests on his chest.

  I take a cautious step forward--the last one until he is within arms’ reach.

  My hand wraps itself around his wrist and pulls him toward me. The liquid coating his hands feels sticky, warm, and less like paint now that we’re both covered in it. It trails behind him, tracing a worn-down path in the g
rass. Along the path, dark shapes huddle to expose pale, rigid spines and ribs like bars on a cage.

  I count the bodies, feeling Knox’s pulse in my palm as I clutch his arm.

  Ten.

  But there are more, as far as I can see, until the path winds out of view.

  I look at where our bodies touch, at the place where the syrup is overcoming my hand. Upon closer inspection, I can tell it’s blood.

  “I am so sorry,” Knox keeps repeating, lower and lower, until his voice is nothing more than the wind in my ears.

  ✽✽✽

  “Old woman!”

  I jerk awake at the sound of Linux’s favorite insult and slam my head into the back wall.

  “Christ. Are you okay?” he asks, wincing.

  With one eye open, I smirk at him and nurse my head wound with a sleepy hand.

  “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

  Linux kneels in front of me, wrapped in a black quilt with holes so large that I can see his shoulders underneath. Beside him, two bodies rest. Cyrus has somehow managed to squeeze himself between Knox and I on top of the covers and has created a seal between us. I smirk and scoot away from him.

  Even in his sleep, he sees the need to be protective of me.

  “Emory wants to see you before the council meets in an hour,” Linux says, staggering to his feet. He stomps them a few times to wake them up. How long has he been crouching there?

  “When did you get promoted to carrier pigeon?”

  He glares at me from above, extending a hand before he responds.

  “Everyone else is asleep. Hurry up, before she interrupts my work again.”

  “I’ll go clean up,” I mumble, taking his hand and pulling myself up.

  “She wants to talk to him, too.”

  Linux points at Knox, whose body curls into the fetal position, mouth slightly open as he sleeps. His face twists in discomfort and his neck bends at an awkward angle.

  My eyes wander down to his hands. They press together under his chin. The image of his blood soaked body sends chills down my spine. Yet, these aren’t those hands. Dirt covers the hands in front of me, not blood.

  “Okay. I’ll bring him along.”

  Linux nods, bustling off with his back hunched. But he calls me an old woman.

  I roll my eyes and step over Cyrus, crouching on the other side of Knox. His hot breath sends waves of goosebumps over my ankles.

  What was he doing in my dream? The blood on his hands makes me think he killed all those people. Yet, the Knox I know wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  Would he?

  The image of the cybernetic in the Anthros hallway, neck snapped in half, flits through my mind.

  Knox is more capable than I give him credit for, but in that instance, he was protecting me. Would he hurt someone even if he wasn’t trying to protect me?

  I run a hand through my hair before placing it on his shoulder. With a gentle shove, I lean down and whisper, inches in front of his face.

  “Wake up, Knox.”

  His eyes open in slow motion--a sempiternal pool of blue reflecting the shape of my body in them. I now know what to compare them to. Those two circles, one of which is imperfect in the most human way, look just like the sky in my dream--the one Sara Teasdale would write about, the one that will ignore humanity burning around it and continue on, endlessly.

  His eye, like the sky, is amaranthine.

  His lips curl up at the sight of me, and one of his hands untangle themselves, rising to graze my cheek.

  “Good morning, angel,” he whispers in a voice resembling a purr. The smile that creeps onto my face is unhindered and uncontrollable. The familiar nickname warms even the farthest reaches of my mind and body.

  “We need to go clean up. The Elders want to see us.”

  He nods, pushing himself off of the ground. When he’s sitting upright, the strands of his hair tickle my forehead. His breath licks the chapped skin of my own lips. As he rubs his eyes, the skin on the back of his hand grazes my nose. Bits of sleep fall to the ground between us.

  When I look back up, the eyes that have no beginning or end lock onto my own.

  His breathing stops.

  Both of my hands find his cheeks, pulling him across the canyon between us.

  The world around me shatters, pouring over my shoulders like broken glass. I press my eyes closed, listening to my life rain down on the concrete floor. His lips press against mine--silk against sandpaper. I taste his bitter morning breath and sink my body into his. We are alone in the room, locked in the moment that weaves us together.

  When he pulls away from me, breathing in, I open my eyes.

  “That was better than the first,” he whispers, in a voice that can only be described as ecstatic.

  I smile and lean forward to press the end of my nose against his.

  “Much,” I manage to spit out as my brain and racing heart fight for command of my body again.

  Knox stands up, pulling me along with him.

  “Lead the way,” he says. “I don’t think Emory is someone we need to keep waiting.”

  I nod, holding his hand as I grab us a change of clothes and lead him out of the sleeping area and toward the river where we can wash off.

  Last night’s dream wrestles its way to the front of my mind, shackled by the kiss Knox and I just shared. How could Knox hurt me? After all we’ve been through?

  I’m being paranoid.

  I’m thinking too much into this.

  It’s been so long since my body could relax that my mind races to find the next crisis. It was just a dream.

  When we reach the river, Knox takes his clothes from me and holds them against his chest.

  “I have to bathe in that?” he asks, pointing at the brown water. His upper lip curls in disgust as I nod. “That is disgusting.”

  “It isn’t so bad,” I say as I push him towards the water. “In and out. Don’t think about it.”

  After a few more grumblings, he walks out of sight. I strip off the Anthros uniform and toss it on the ground by the entryway.

  Last time I stood in this river, I washed away the bonds of death, anger, and responsibility. The Eden that scrubbed her body until it was spotless felt crippled by the weight of the two lives lost on her mission. The water provided her with a clean slate and an opportunity to move forward and do better. She knew that the sun would rise the next day and her mind found solace in the cogs of time pressing forward with her in it.

  This Eden, standing in the water up to her shoulders and pressing her toes into the grainy sand under her feet, can’t scrub hard enough.

  The memories of training and testing bear into my skin like a thousand needles. Ghost electricity dances across my body, and I shake uncontrollably, even as I wrap my arms around myself.

  I see Eins and Zwei behind my eyelids. Eins crosses his arms over his chest, and a language I don’t understand spews out of his mouth and wraps itself around me. Zwei runs her fork through my hair, pressing its tongs into my neck.

  Baylee stands behind them, her chest open and exposing her mechanical heart. It pumps in sync with my own, vibrating through the water between us. Her eyes flash as the mechanical irises retract and adjust.

  The water pulls at my skin, brushing away the filth from the tunnels and the sweat from running. Yet, those memories dig their talons into my core, refusing to let go.

  This Eden will wear those memories like thick winter clothes, always pressing on her shoulders, tugging at her pant legs, and hiding behind her ears.

  I’ll never be rid of them.

  The water lacks joy. Where it used to make me feel at peace, it now only makes me feel hollow and tired. I step out, sitting on the dry river sand after I’ve gotten dressed.

  “How does this work?”

  Knox walks around the corner, holding a jacket in front of him. The jeans I picked out for him fit well enough, even if they are a bit long. The shirt, though, is too big and hangs off his body like excess skin.r />
  “How does a jacket work?” I repeat, walking over and taking the article of clothing from him.

  “Is that what it is called? A jacket?”

  I nod, and he continues.

  “I can put it on, but what’s this metal thing?”

  He points at the zipper, chewing on his lip.

  “That’s a zipper,” I say, choking back a laugh. “Just put it on, and I’ll show you.”

  Knox grimaces as he pulls the sport jacket on, fiddling with the collar as I lean down and attempt to zip the jacket up. In order to do so, the shirt needs to be tucked into his pants. I reach for the waistband of his pants and freeze as a thought enters my mind.

  “Knox, did you figure out the zipper on your pants?” I ask, looking away from him in panic.

  “There’s one down there, too? I just buttoned them.”

  My cheeks burn red as I feel around for his zipper, pulling it up before straightening my body.

  “Sorry,” Knox mumbles, his face just as red as mine.

  What makes the entire situation worse is that he can’t help it. We’re attracted to each other. Where’s the shame in that?

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say, waving him off as I zip up the jacket. “You helped me. I’m just returning the favor.”

  Hoping to avoid any more awkward conversation, I turn and hurry back to the entryway, gather my own dirty clothes, and slip on the shoes I brought with me.

  “Eden?”

  I glance over my shoulders at him, holding the shoe strings with a confused look on his face.

  He can’t help it.

  Maybe if I repeat those words in my head, my face won’t give me away.

  For the next ten minutes, we sit on the sand facing one another and hold one shoe apiece. I recite the rhyme that Mom taught Cyrus and me, making him repeat each line after me.

  “Build a teepee, come inside / Close it tight so we can hide / Over the mountain and around we go / Here’s my arrow and here’s my bow.”

  Then, I say it with the motions, modeling how to cross the strings and fold the end of one through the loop of the other.

  Lastly, we say the poem together and follow the motions, countless times until Knox can tie the shoe on his own.