Escape to Eden

by Rachel McClellan

  “There’s no one out there,” I say, but I know he’s not going to believe me. I motion toward Jenna with my head. “Let her go and then worry about securing me. You can look for the boy later.”

  Lenny laughs, which makes my teeth grind. “Secure you?” he says. “My hand will secure you. There’s not a thing you can do to us.”

  “It’s not for protection from me, but from other Primes who surely saw my plane land too. They’re probably coming right now and when they see me with you, they’re going to want to fight.”

  Ted and Larry look at each other. They know I’m right.

  “We can split up,” Lenny says. “I’ll take the Original, you look for the boy.”

  “No way. You’ll take her straight to the Institute and cash out on the prize yourself. I’ll take her.”

  “I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

  While the two continue to argue, Jenna leans over and whispers to me, “You can’t seriously leave with them.”

  “Don’t worry. When an opportunity presents itself I’ll get away. You just make sure Max makes it to my father safely.” Much louder, I say, “You better hurry and make a decision, boys.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Jenna says. “Remember how you wanted to know what my special ability was?”

  I look at her questioningly.

  “You might want to cover your ears.” She sucks in air through puckered lips, and then opens her mouth wide. The sound that comes out is nothing short of an atomic vocal bomb. I clamp my hands over my ears and drop to the ground. The men do the same. My eardrums feel like they are on fire, a burning inferno of excruciating pain.

  Jenna continues to scream until she runs out of air. By the time she’s finished, I’m curled into a fetal position, unable to produce a single thought. As much as I want to close my eyes and take myself to a happy, pain-free mental place, they remain open.

  Ted and Lenny are struggling to get up. Jenna does her best to make sure they stay down. She kicks them each hard in the stomach and then follows it up with a blow to their faces. She’s saying something and by her expression, the words can’t be pretty or nice.

  Jenna manages to hold them off for a short time, but soon they gain the upper hand. Lenny swipes his long arm at her feet, knocking her to the ground. A second later Ted presses his foot to her chest. I can’t hear her but by the way her eyes look like they might pop from their sockets or the way her mouth is forming the shape of a large O, I know she is screaming.

  I try to crawl over to help her, but the smallest move is excruciating. It’s a horrible feeling, the helplessness of the situation. Jenna will die because I’m normal.

  Two figures streak across my line of vision. The largest barrels into Ted’s chest, knocking him off of Jenna, who quickly scrambles to the side. It takes me a second to realize the person is Tank. Colt comes right behind him, aimed at Lenny, who looks thoroughly confused. Just before Colt reaches him he turns like he’s going to bolt, but Colt doesn’t let him. He tackles Lenny to the ground and, while Lenny’s face is pressed into the dirt, Colt leans over him and says something into his ear. Then he slowly moves off Lenny’s back, and Lenny jumps to his feet and runs fast into the forest. Ted and Tank are in an epic battle the kings of the forest would be jealous of. Tank is smiling like it’s the most fun he’s had in a long time.

  While they continue to trade Titan-sized blows, Colt comes and kneels in front of me. His eyebrows are drawn together and his mouth is moving. I can’t hear him, but I know he’s saying my name. The pain in my ears is so sharp I wonder if they are bleeding.

  “I can’t hear,” I say. At least I think I’m saying it aloud.

  Colt points his forefinger upwards and mouths the word up. I attempt to get on all fours, but an intense dizziness comes over me and I fall back down. Colt’s lips tighten and he presses his palm to my back.

  I glance away from his concerned stare and look for Tank. He’s in the middle of tossing Ted over his head. Two trees have already been knocked over from their fighting. Ted crashes into a third; the tree snaps at the base. This time when Ted shakily comes to his feet, he shakes his head and follows Lenny’s escape route. The victor, Tank, raises his arm to the sky and runs a victory lap. Colt looks at him sternly and says something to make him stop.

  Both Tank and Jenna come over to me. The three of them stand together, discussing something I really wish I could hear, especially because I’m sure it’s about me. Colt shrugs off a small backpack and opens it up. I try again to get to my feet but fall over. I’m so nauseated that I think I might vomit.

  Almost a full minute passes before Colt turns around. His expression is as solemn as the others. They have the look of someone who is about to put their family pet to sleep, so when Colt kneels down and brings his hand forward, revealing a needled syringe, my eyes go big.

  “No!” I say.

  Before he stabs it into me, I think he says, “Trust me.” He raises his eyebrows like he’s waiting for me to answer.

  I nod my head, assuming that whatever’s in the syringe will heal my ears and get me back to walking as soon as possible. If two Primes saw the plane go down, there are most likely others. We need to get out of the forest and quick.

  Colt gently presses the needle to the crook in my arm. I barely feel the sting when he pushes it into me. He gives me an encouraging smile. I wait, expecting any moment to feel better, but I don’t. Instead I grow sleepy. Now I panic. My eyes go wide and I shake my head as much as the pain in my ears will allow. I don’t want to go to sleep.

  But I don’t have a choice.

  My eyes close, and I’m greeted by a suffocating blackness.

  There’s nothing pleasant about a drug-induced sleep. It takes away a person’s control, specifically mine, so when my eyes finally open, I wake in a bad mood.

  I blink a few times and attempt to orient myself. Nothing looks familiar.

  I’m sitting with my back pressed against the wall of a tall metal structure, surrounded by litter that smells of pizza and dog urine. Not more than ten feet across from me is a building, the side rusted, making it more copper than silver. I’m in a long, narrow alleyway. The sky above me is a dark blue. It won’t be long until nightfall, which means I’ve been out for at least a couple of hours.

  “About time,” a voice says.

  I turn my head and for the first time since waking realize that my ears no longer hurt, and I’m not dizzy. Tank looks at me for just a second before turning his back. He’s peering outside the alleyway.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “New York City.” His voice is serious, which worries me. Tank is never serious.

  “Where are the others?” I ask, thinking specifically of Max.

  “They took a different route.”

  I scoot next to him and look around the corner. “Why? I thought we were supposed to stay together.”

  The streets are busy. Vehicles, most of them older-looking compared to the ones in Boston, speed down the street, making it a suicide mission for any pedestrian thinking of passing, which, by the worn expressions of the people huddled together under faded and worn awnings, could be a serious possibility.

  “We were spotted by a few Primes about an hour ago,” Tank says. “With people after us we thought it better to split you and your brother up to increase our odds that at least one of you will make it to your father.”

  “It’s got to be Max,” I blurt.

  “That’s what we thought you would say, so I took you and went straight into the city to act as a decoy, especially for the Canine, who probably arrived around the same time we did.”

  I try hard to prevent it, but a shiver shakes my whole body. The Canine. Something has to be done about him or I and everyone around me will be at risk.

  Tank seems to read my mind. “Don’t worry. I’m working on what to do with him. Truthfully, I thought we’d be well through the city by now, beating even the others, but I had no idea it would be this diffi
cult. See, look.” He points to his left.

  I lean out a little farther. There’s an electronic billboard attached to a walkway that crosses over the busy road. It’s looping the words, “Boy and girl Originals loose in city. Call Institute immediately for reward. Last seen with—” then the screen flashes a picture of Tank, the most well-known sports hero in America.

  “The signs are all over,” he says. “For the first time in my life, I regret being famous.”

  I slide back into the alley. “Can I see my pack?”

  Tank moves with me and removes the bag off of his shoulder. “It will probably be a little easier from here on out, now that I’m not carrying you, which is what blew our cover in the first place.”

  While I search my bag, I ask, “How was Max doing last time you saw him?”

  “Really good. Colt has a way with him. I think Colt wanted to be the one to take you, but Max wouldn’t go to anyone else.”

  “I’m glad he’s with Max.” I find what I’m looking for and pull out a black pen and the rain poncho I used earlier.

  “What do you need those for?”

  I don’t answer right away as I’m busy tearing at the yellow poncho until it’s shaped into a large square. “Come here,” I say. “We need to give you a disguise.” I fold the square material in half so it’s the shape of a triangle and stands up. “You’re too tall. Bend over so I can get at your head.”

  He gets on his knees and still has to lower his head for me to reach him. While I secure the makeshift bandana over his hair, he says, “I doubt this will work. Everyone knows me, especially women. They’ll spot me a mile away even if I’m invisible.”

  I cinch the ends of the bandana tight at the base of his neck. “You don’t have to do that with me.”

  He straightens. “Do what?”

  “Act like that.” I take the pen and start darkening his blond eyebrows.

  Tank’s quiet for a moment, then says, “How do you know it’s an act?”

  “I saw you with Ash. You care for her. A lot.”

  His eyebrows draw together, making me nearly give him a unibrow. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  “Why do you do it?” I say. His eyebrows relax, and I return to the task of transforming him into someone else.

  “I found early on that when I act like a chauvinistic pig, people tend to dismiss me. It has helped me fly under the Institute’s radar.”

  “Well now that you’ve run right through it, you can drop the act. I’m sure Ash will appreciate it as much as the rest of us.”

  He smiles. “I’ll work on it.”

  I lean back and take a look at him. With his bright hair covered and his brows darkened, he looks like he could be a relative of Tank’s. “Not bad.”

  He stands and looks at his blurry reflection in the side of the metal building. His black pants are tight, but not as tight as his white shirt. I don’t know how he wears clothes like that. It would drive me crazy.

  “It might work, but what about you?” Tank asks.

  I’m already pulling my blond-streaked hair into a high ponytail. “I still have the colored contacts, and I’ll wear my sweatshirt with the hood up. It’ll have to work.”

  “No hood. It will draw attention. Your picture isn’t out there yet so you should be fine with colored contacts.” I put them in and he looks me over. “You have anything better to wear? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

  I glance down at my blue long-sleeved shirt and black sweat pants. Not a whole lot I could do to make them better.

  “Try this,” Tank says. He takes hold of my right sleeve and tears it off, exposing my shoulder.

  “Hey!” I say, but he’s already tearing at the other one.

  He hands the torn material to me. “Take these sleeves, roll them up, and wear them as bracelets. As for your pants, can you push them up to your knees?”

  I do as he says, tearing off the bandage from the back of my calf as I do so. The wound is almost healed. I glance down at my entire outfit. “It looks dumb.”

  “Fashion these days is dumb, but at least you’ll blend in,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

  I stretch my arms. “Not bad.”

  “Good. We’re going to move fast but inconspicuously. It’s about three miles to your father.” My heart skips a beat. “The others should be waiting for us. Ready?” He moves to turn around, but I stop him.

  “What about the Canine?”

  He looks at me, his eyes serious like he’s trying to decide whether or not to tell me the truth. I make it easy for him. “I won’t go if there’s a risk to the others.”

  “Then we’ll have to draw him out. The trick is getting him away from the Institute’s henchmen who will surely be with him. There’s no way I’ll be able to fight them all. Let’s go.” He pulls me onto the street. I walk quickly to catch up to him, eyes downcast.

  “Try and act normal,” he says. “Not so . . . you.”

  I clear my throat and raise my chin. Act like someone else. Be someone else. I say these words in my head over and over until I think I believe them. The sun is all but gone from the city. Its fading light reflects off the sides of metal buildings, sending rays of sunshine bouncing through the streets. I meet people’s gaze as I pass. I am one of them. A few smile back at me. I belong.

  “If we can get the Canine alone, I know I can kill him,” Tank says after we’ve traveled a few blocks.

  It’s less crowded here. By the looks of it, we’ve migrated into a business district with warehouses that have already shut down for the day. A smell like rotting meat fills the air, forcing me to breathe with my mouth open. Off to my right is a food recycling plant, most likely the source of the putrid aroma.

  “It will probably take me a few minutes though,” Tank continues, “which we won’t have. Not only that, but it will draw attention we don’t want.”

  “We need to become invisible. The Canine too.” I look around, my mind working quickly. What would my father suggest? I step over a sealed manhole and stop.

  “What is it?” Tank asks.

  “The underground tunnels. I need access to a computer.” I hurry over to the nearest building and peek in a dusty window. I can barely make out what looks like machines for an auto mechanic shop.

  “The tunnels?” Tank says over my shoulder. “You’re not thinking of going in there, are you? Because that would be suicide.”

  I step back and glance at the next building over. A sign above the door reads: Mike’s Packaging and Shipping. “It’s not suicide. I’ve done it before,” I say and walk over to the door.

  Tank follows after me. “But that was in Boston. New York is a whole other beast. There are more Junks and who knows what else living down there.”

  “The Mutant Alligators,” I say as I turn the doorknob. “They’re a legend.” The door’s locked.

  “You don’t know that, but even if it is, Junks are real and there’s probably hundreds if not thousands down there.”

  I turn around, almost running into him. “Can you open this for me? I need to get inside.”

  Tank glances around before settling his gaze on me. “You’re not listening.”

  “No, you’re not listening. Just trust me on this. I only need five minutes with a computer. If I can’t find a way to make my plan work, then we’ll move on.” He searches my eyes as if looking for ways to break through my resolve. I lift my chin to let him know it’s impermeable.

  He reaches behind me and turns the knob until it snaps, along with three other locks that must’ve been holding the door secure. It’s a good thing Tank is with me since I don’t think even Colt could’ve opened it.

  “Hurry,” Tank says. “Who knows when the Canine might show?”

  I nod and rush inside to the nearest metal desk. I slide my fingers across the top until a holographic blue screen appears in front of me. An electronic voice says, “Say password.”

  I don’t need to see the company’s files. I cross both fingers ti
ghtly and say, “Bypass. Go online.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief when the screen spins, a spectrum of translucent colors whirling in front of me, until it settles onto several 3D images of cats. Some are walking in tight loops while others lick their fur. A plain brown one, smaller than the rest, is chasing its tail.

  It strangely reminds me of myself.

  “What a stupid home screen,” Tank says over my shoulder.

  With a swipe of my finger, the cats disappear. “Search tunnel blueprints of New York City,” I command to the computer.

  The holographic screen spins again. When it stops, the electronic voice says, “Tunnel blueprints displayed by date.” A long list appears. The most recent one is from thirty years ago. I click on it and then expand the next screen as wide as it will go, which is the whole length of the desk and almost as tall as Tank. I stand up to get a better look at the image.

  Tank moves close and, after inspecting the screen, says, “I think we’re somewhere in here.” He points to the top left of the screen.

  “How can you tell?”

  His finger moves to the bottom. “See this giant circle? This is the city’s water storage. And up here, where there are fewer manholes,” his hand moves through a series of what look like long pipes, but I know are really tunnels, “is the business district. If I were to guess, this one,” he taps on a small yellow circle, “is the manhole just outside this building. Or maybe this one.”

  I study the map. The business district has several tunnels crossing in and out of each other. Each manhole is almost half a mile apart. “Can you tell where my father is located?”

  Tank snakes his finger around the holographic screen and stops at the bottom, near the center. “Here. About two miles away.”

  “And the Canine will be coming from the direction we just came from.” I walk around the desk and look outside the only window in the room. Night is fully upon us. We can use it to our advantage.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I say I confront him outside.”