Road to Eugenica (Eugenica Chronicles)

by A. M. Rose

  Dylan pushes back from the table. “I think we need to go if you want to get home by curfew.”

  I pull out my phone. Crap. It’s 11:00 p.m. How did it get so late so fast? “Fine. But let me run to the bathroom real quick before we leave. Meet you in the parking lot?” It’s a long drive back, and while we have to hurry, I’m not going to make it the whole way.

  Dylan’s gaze shifts between me and Maddox, then he shrugs. “Usual place?”

  I nod.

  He snatches his keys from the table. “See ya around.” He exchanges a fist bump with Maddox and walks away.

  I slide out of my seat. “I guess I’ll see you at school.”

  “Here, let me get that.” Maddox grabs the trash from the table. “See you.” He takes the loaded-down tray toward the trash can.

  The bathrooms here are all the way in the back of the building. The only thing worse than getting to them, is how small and stinky they are. I take a deep breath, pass a row of parked cars as the lights from the restaurant fade behind me, and find the door marked: women. Inside, I flip the light switch. Pop. I jump back. The bulb blows, leaving me in blackness. Perfect. Now what am I supposed to do? Pee in complete darkness or leave the door open? I peer into the gloomy room, its usual stench of some weird air freshener trying to cover up the rank smell makes my stomach turn.

  Forget it. Maybe Dylan isn’t too far ahead of me, and I can catch up.

  The parking lot gets darker and quieter as I head toward the car. Why does this place have to be so popular that we had to park so far away? Normally, Max’s doesn’t scare me, but tonight something’s different. My palms sweat as I squeeze between two huge SUVs, my shoulder knocking against the side-view mirror. I pull my arms in closer; my pulse increasing with every step. The chill in the air pricks my skin. I’m alone. In the dark, with the smell of cooking meat wafting through the air.

  I step out from behind a Honda and something to my left moves. I jump back and almost pee myself, but it’s just a stupid raccoon. Little jerk. I take a deep breath to try and calm myself, but it’s no use. The edge of the parking lot is getting close, and then it’s just a few blocks. I quicken my pace.

  Soon I’ll be tucked inside Dylan’s Jeep. Safe and sound. The quarter-mooned sky is the only thing that lights the way. My eyes dart back and forth, rattling my already frazzled nerves. Why did we ever make this arrangement that he gets the car while I go to the bathroom, again? Because right now it feels like the stupidest idea in the world. And why didn’t I just wait for him in our normal pickup spot? Maybe I should turn around. I glance back, the restaurant seems so far away, so I decide to keep moving forward.

  Now it’s like I’m stuck in a scene from one of those horrible horror movies where some crazy guy in a mask attacks the girl. Screw that. I pull my arms around my chest and walk even faster. My foot catches on a parking block and my arms go flailing, but I don’t hit the ground. Real graceful, Drea. At least no one is around to see.

  Snap!

  I stop breathing. That’s no raccoon. I whip around. “You scared the crap out of me.” I hold my hands over my chest, exhaling the breath caught inside.

  Maddox laughs. “Sorry. I was coming to ask if I could hitch a ride back. I didn’t know you were scared of the dark.”

  I furrow my brow. “I’m not.” Not really. “If you didn’t drive, how did you get here?”

  “Oh, well, I…” His eyes grow wide and the blood drains from his face. He isn’t looking at me anymore but just past me.

  I spin around.

  Holy shit.

  We’re not alone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The man in front of me isn’t really a man, he’s more like a mountain and puts the size of that wildebeest from the restaurant to shame. He’s a full head taller than Maddox, a head and a half taller than me. And he’s holding a knife, crazy long, reflecting the moon with its blade.

  I’m frozen with fear. This is it. I’m going to die. They’ll find my body in that rainbow Dumpster, under a crate of wilted lettuce with mayonnaise in my hair.

  “Give me your money and your phones.” His voice booms and shakes me to the core.

  I tear my eyes away from the knife and stare at the man. Under his backward black baseball cap are lifeless eyes. Not green. And no crescent scar, just a teardrop tattoo under his right eye. Snakeskin is inked across his neck. It creeps up behind his ears and all the way down to his left hand where he’s missing two fingers.

  He points the knife at us. “Now!” His voice is full of rage and sends the hair on the back of my neck on end.

  “Look, man. We don’t want any trouble.” Maddox pulls out his wallet and phone. “Drea, just give him what he wants and he’ll go away.”

  The man turns his knife over in his hand, making sure we see every inch of it, and chuckles. Not laughs. There’s nothing funny about it. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”

  “What else do you want?” Maddox’s voice shakes a little, not like my hands. They’re trembling something fierce.

  “I don’t know…” The man sucks his teeth, gaze flicking back and forth between Maddox and me.

  Maddox’s brow twitches, but beyond that he doesn’t move. “We don’t have anything else.”

  “You sure about that?” The man locks his eyes on me and smirks, like he’s hungry and I’m the meal.

  Something rushes through me. Fear, maybe. Or something else.

  “You can have our money. That’s all.” Maddox stands up straighter, but he still sounds scared, and I have a feeling this man can smell fear.

  All I want is to get away and not get hurt, but when the man extends the knife toward Maddox, something kicks in. A memory plays in the back of my mind: men kicking their legs high in the air, blocks, and punches. The martial arts movie Dylan and I watched together at the hospital. I clench my hands into fists. They aren’t shaking anymore.

  Without a second thought, I kick the knife out of his hand. Before he has a chance to respond, I whip around and knock him back with a foot to the gut. He takes no time to steady himself and lunges toward me, grabbing my arm. Instead of pulling away, I use his weight to my advantage. I yank his arm toward me, force him to face the ground, and bring my knee up hard into his face. His nose shatters from the strength of the blow. I keep a hold of his arm as I push him toward the ground, lifting his elbow up and back until it pops. I release my hold on him when tires screech behind me.

  “Drea!” Dylan yells, and swings the door to his Jeep open as he pulls to a stop.

  “Let’s go.” Maddox takes off.

  I sprint to the car. Maddox jumps through to the back seat and I throw myself into the front. Dylan hits the gas pedal before I even close the door.

  “What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Dylan asks.

  What did happen? The scene plays over in my mind. Me vs. big scary man—and I won. How did I do that? “He…he wanted our money and phones.” I fill my lungs with air to calm my racing heart. “The way he looked at me…I thought…I thought…”

  Dylan grabs my hand. “Drea. Are you okay?”

  Our eyes lock and my pulse slows down. But adrenaline still flows through my veins, tingling my skin. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had to do a little Kung Fu. Nothing to it.” I start to laugh. It’s not a funny laugh. It’s hysterical. I’m laughing so hard I can’t stop. My ribs hurt, my stomach aches. Tears fill my eyes. Being able to do lacrosse on a whim is one thing, but this is an entirely different level.

  Dylan stares at me. “It’s okay now. You’re safe.” His voice is low, in a hush, and he squeezes my hand. His warm fingers interlace with mine, and slowly I can breathe again.

  “How did you do that?” Maddox pokes his head through to the front seat, his eyes wild for answers.

  That’s right, he’s here. Shit. How am I supposed to explain to him I can suddenly do things I never could before? How do I tell him that by just watching something or reading about it, I’m an expert at it? I haven’t eve
n figured it out for myself. And there’s no explanation that could ever make sense. What’s worse is that as much as it scares the crap out of me, something deep down likes it. Craves more.

  Dylan looks at me from the corner of his eyes. “She’s been studying since she was five. Her mom insisted.”

  “Oh.” Maddox sits back. “Still. That guy was the size of Texas. And he had a knife.”

  “She’s a black belt,” Dylan says shortly. “In class, I’ve seen her take down guys bigger than that.”

  I glance back at Maddox. His expression is clouded with disbelief. And it should be. It sounds ridiculous even to my ears. “Yeah, all right.” Maddox nods his head and cocks his eyebrow, but then he shudders. “I can’t get that sound out of my head. I think you broke that guy’s shoulder. Damn. That was intense.”

  I swallow hard. He’s right; I think I did. Actually, I know I did. I felt his bones cracking. My hands shake and I slide them under my legs. There’s blood on my jeans. Blood that isn’t mine. The burger and fries threaten to make a reappearance.

  I’ve never hurt another person in my life. Hell, I can’t even bring myself to kill a spider. Even though he had a knife pointed at us, something feels wrong about doing it. And at the same time it feels so right. Even now, a jolt of vicious pleasure courses through me as I remember the look on the man’s face when things went south for him.

  Tonight was supposed to be a break from all this craziness that’s been happening to me, but all it’s done is turn it up. My ears ring, echoes of crunching bones and satisfied laughing. Is this what I’m turning into? Someone who gets some sort of sick pleasure from hurting other people?

  Dylan’s gaze goes from the road to the clock on his dash. “We’re cutting it close, Drea. Susan’ll rip me a new one if we miss curfew.”

  “Your mom’s name is Susan?” There’s something in Maddox’s voice. Excitement maybe. Or maybe it’s just the events of tonight working their way through.

  I nod. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Oh nothing—just curious.” He peeks up from his phone and our eyes lock. There’s a gentle smile on his face and he nods slightly. Something glimmers in his eyes, like he’s impressed. I turn back around in my seat, holding on to the feeling that maybe, just maybe, we could still be friends, even if I am a little weird. Okay. A lot weird. And dark. And twisty.

  The rest of the ride is quiet. Headlights from oncoming cars blur into each other as we drive along. I replay every moment in my mind as I spin the ring on my finger.

  I’m only able to squeak out a single goodbye when we drop Maddox at his uncle’s apartment complex. He’s running up the stairs as Dylan pulls away. We should probably wait to make sure he gets in, but right now I just want to be home, under my covers, with them protecting me from the world. From myself.

  We pull into my driveway and I can’t take it anymore. The tears won’t stop, and what’s worse is that I hate myself for crying. I want to be strong, as strong as I feel in my bones, but I can’t.

  Dylan gets out of the car, comes around to my side, and opens my door. He doesn’t say anything. He unbuckles my seat belt and spins me toward him so he can hold me. Strong, warm arms. So familiar. I breathe him in, letting that clean laundry smell fill my senses. He pulls me in tighter, blocking out the quiet hum of his engine, and I listen to the thrum of his heart. So strong. So steady. I ball his shirt in my fists, and sob into his chest.

  He smooths my hair and shushes in my ear.

  My tears slow to a trickle, and I pull away. I’ve made a mess out of his shirt, and I’m sure my face is just as bad. I back out of his embrace, head down.

  He lifts my chin and wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “You did what you had to do. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

  I nod. He’s right. But the sound of our attacker’s shoulder breaking is still twisting my gut. And it was so simple. I could have killed him. It would’ve been easy, in fact. Too easy. I could’ve gotten there if Dylan hadn’t pulled up when he did. And what scares me most is that I’m not sure I would’ve stopped until the guy was dead if it wasn’t for Dylan. My stomach lurches.

  Dylan pulls on the chain around my neck, until my locket tumbles into view. We both stare at it. The engraved lines etched into it dance in the light from the back door. “Maybe…” Dylan’s voice trails off.

  “Maybe I should find out where this came from,” I finish. “It’s a clue. Right?” A clue to an answer I might not want.

  He frowns. “Maybe we should.” His hair falls over his forehead, and I itch to brush it back.

  As much as I hate it, my heart thumps a little faster. “You’ll help me?”

  His fingers are at the base of my throat, tracing the locket. My breath hitches. “Sure. That’s what friends are for,” he says.

  I nod, tucking my hands under my legs. Friends. Not exactly the answer I wanted to hear, but the one I expected.

  Inside the house, I lock the door, run to my room, and flash the lights twice to let Dylan know I made it. Then I peer through the curtains and watch his taillights fade in the distance. He’s gone. But I won’t be alone long—Mom will be home soon. I hope.

  I set my camera on my desk, my hands shaking so hard they send a stack of books to the floor. Maddox’s red notebook is one of them—the one he asked about. The one I hadn’t noticed until this moment. I grab it and sit down on my bed. It’s not anything special, just a plain old spiral notebook. Like the ones I use in all my classes, but there has to be something about this if he was so anxious to get it back. I shouldn’t, but I open to a random page and quickly snap it shut. There’s nothing plain about it. But I shouldn’t be a snoop, so I leave it alone. If it was Dylan’s I wouldn’t think twice. If it was Dylan’s I’d already know everything that’s inside.

  I lay back on my bed with the notebook on my chest, stare at the ceiling, and replay tonight’s events in my head. But I need to stop thinking about that guy and what almost could’ve happened, so I focus on what Dylan said: “What are friends for?”

  But the way he touched me tonight. My hair, my face, my arm. That’s not how a friend acts.

  And Maddox…he’s so…so. My mind replays the look on his face in the Jeep. That glimmer in his eyes. There’s something up with him. My fingers run along the metal spiral of his notebook. If I glance inside, maybe I’ll be able to figure out what.

  I open the cover and my breath is taken away. It’s the most amazing drawing I’ve ever seen. Better than anything I could ever do, that is, without a camera. And that’s what this almost looks like—a photograph, not a drawing at all. It’s a picture of the large tree growing in the quad. The detail is unreal, down to the names carved into the bench surrounding it.

  I turn the pages and it’s like black-and-white photographs of the school. Drawings of the classrooms and teachers fill the pages. My history teacher, Mr. Collins, in his signature flannel and Birkenstocks.

  The next picture is of our Spanish class. I’m sitting right in the middle of the picture, my head down, drawing in my own notebook. But that was like three days ago, and this drawing looks like it should’ve taken at least a week or more.

  My eyes drink in the details on every page. Each line holds so much purpose.

  Dylan looks back at me from the next page. It’s only a headshot but it’s incredible. Not only has Maddox perfected every detail of his face, but the very aura that Dylan exudes. The confidence he holds in his eyes. How his chin is always angled up a little like he’s ready to take on anything.

  My fingers tingle with anticipation of the next picture, but the next few pages are blank and I’m about to give up until I turn one last page and come across another drawing. The rough pencil marks and incomplete lines tell me it’s just the beginning. Although it’s only an outline, it’s going to be a picture of a place. It looks like the earth from the past, before construction touched it. But in a weird way it seems almost futuristic. A large glass dome with buildings and trees is drawn in the center of the page
. There are no roads, but lots of trees and plants. It’s oddly familiar. My eyes follow each line over and over. A shudder races up my spine. Holy shit. My dream. How is that possible?

  But this is it. The place in my dreams. I’m sure of it.

  My hands shake as I keep turning pages hoping to find more, but there aren’t any. So I let out a huff and fall back on my bed, holding the book to my chest.

  These drawings are beautiful, beyond beautiful. And I want to tell him how amazing they are. How amazing he is. But they seem so personal, like I’ve read his diary. So bringing it up seems wrong.

  The thing that has the hairs on my arms standing isn’t the fact that they’re so good. That there are so many. And that in itself doesn’t seem possible. The day I met him was the first day he’d been there, right? So how could he have time to draw all of these? Unless there’s more. Something he isn’t telling me.

  I open the book and stare at the last picture again.

  What are you hiding, Maddox?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Perched high in a tree, birds serenade me. Any closer and they’d dance along my arms like the branches I’m hidden in. I relax into the tree’s trunk, stretching my legs out in front of me. Grabbing a handful of berries from a nearby branch, I toss them in the air and catch them in my mouth. They burst open and fill my mouth with sweet juice. So delicious. I sink lower against the trunk.

  A cool breeze picks my hair up and blows it across my face, tickling my nose. I welcome the gentle sensation and the sense of freedom that comes with it. The sun reflects off the dome roof of the nearest training compound, and it glistens in the distance. Locked in a training room is no way to spend an entire day. Except for a family of deer below me, I’m completely alone.

  An annoying little Anopheles-Robotica buzzes by my ear. I grab the little robotic mosquito before he can zoom away and report back my hiding place. These little mechanical insects can come in handy when doing surveillance, but they can also be a giant pain in the butt. I use my pinky nail to pull off the little metallic thorax and shut him down.