In appearance Diego is small and uninteresting, but inside him there’s a fire that draws me to him. His words are impassioned. He makes sense.
“What is your first thought when you wake up in the morning?”
I stop breathing as my question is asked, longing to hear his answer.
“I think of my father. How proud he would be to see me here. He taught me that in life we must seize every opportunity. I wake in the morning wanting to make him proud. He had courage. A strong heart. I am the same. I will always be grateful to him.”
So he does think regularly of his loss.
I think of my own parents once more, and the book of letters hidden in my room. I have no idea if I inherited my mother’s eyes or my father’s love of all things sweet, but I’m about to find out. Soon I’ll know what their dreams were for me. I hope that one day I too will be able to think of my parents and know that I have made them proud.
I catch myself absentmindedly rubbing the scar on my wrist.
My father.
I stop myself and slowly place my hands on my thighs.
When I look up, Diego is gazing at me.
“Planet Earth is fragile. It needs us to fulfill our duties,” he continues.
“Indeed, we all have a role to play,” says Holly, with a beaming smile.
“I want to help her.”
“Earth?” Holly asks, sounding confused. “Mother Nature?”
“Eve,” he corrects as he hangs his head toward us seated ladies. “I know she’s here. I know she’s heard what I’ve said.”
My breath catches in my throat. I want to hear more from this unlikely character.
“Together we can make a difference,” he goes on, his hand softly tapping at his heart. “Together we can ensure the future for humanity as it should be. Eve, tell me you’re here. Stand and show me. Tell me you want the same as I do.”
I inhale deeply, his words touching me and holding me captive, my body aching to move in agreement.
“I do,” Mother Nina declares unexpectedly, sensing that I was about to speak. Her veiled chin rises with youthful pride, imitating me.
I sense all eyes in the room turning to my impersonator, taking everyone by surprise as she steps beyond duty to protect my identity.
I glance back into the center of the room just as Diego’s empty seat crashes to the floor. He’s no longer there. Instead he looms over Mother Nina and stops her from standing tall.
My heart freezes as I see her head jolt violently, his hands gripping her throat and squeezing the soft flesh.
Screaming fills the room. I’ve never heard a sound like it before. Now that she’s weakened, his hands move to either side of her beautiful face, jolting her around so that she’s facing us, her friends, her family—watching in horror. Not one of the dozen armed members of Ketch’s security team can get to her in time. In one swift movement he grabs her by the mouth and wrenches her jaw skyward. Her eyes lock onto mine as they bulge in pain. Fear. Relief.
Before I can get to her, two strong arms grab me from behind, hands covering my mouth, stifling the scream as I’m dragged away from the horror unfolding before me.
10
BRAM
I lose sight of Eve in the commotion. I yank out my earpiece and drop it on the studio floor to stop Hartman’s yelling at me. Focus, Bram.
My heart pounds under the kinetic suit as I scan the encounter room through my visor, and my eyes catch the lifeless body of Mother Nina and the hands that are still around her throat. The Mothers are beating helplessly at Diego, but their frail, seventy-year-old fists make no impression on him.
Half of Ketch’s security team are uselessly clicking the triggers on their weapons. Idiots. Every gun in the building is chipped, programmed not to fire when pointing at Eve.
Eve. Where is she?
I jump the table and move Holly through the mass of veiled women. As I scan the chaos I see her.
Her blue eyes flash in my direction through the thin strip of her black veil. One of Ketch’s men has his arms around her waist and is pulling her away from the danger, out of the line of fire, so the weapons will reactivate and eliminate the threat.
When I turn back, Diego’s face is barely a meter away from my own. He is muttering something under his breath, sounds like a prayer. He’s not fazed by the chaos around him, by the armed men scrambling frantically toward him through the sea of Mothers. He is focused as he releases his grip and pulls off the veil, revealing the face of the woman he’s killed.
His muttering stops.
He has failed.
He drops the body and lunges at the nearest veiled Mother. He knows Eve is still in the room.
There is a sudden metallic click that echoes around the walls. Every gun is armed—Eve is out of the line of fire.
I turn back in time to see her hands clawing at the open door as she’s pulled from the room toward the elevator—but not before she witnesses the execution of Potential Number Two.
The room lights up as a dozen guns open fire on Diego. I only see it through the reflection in Eve’s horrified eyes before she’s dragged into the corridor.
Run, Bram.
I bolt as fast as Holly can be projected, ignoring every obstacle in her way, moving through the table and chairs, through the Mothers and Ketch’s security team, taking full advantage of being made of light. My kinetic suit pulses and vibrates, indicating the objects and people I’m running through, but I ignore it. This is no time for illusion.
I reach the hallway in time to see the elevator doors closing on Eve and her guardian.
My heart stops at what I’m seeing. Everything about this is wrong. Eve backs into the edge of the small, spherical space, terror on her face.
The security officer is staring at the doors, visibly willing them to close faster. His eyes flick up and lock with my own.
In that fraction of a second I read his thoughts. It’s as though all his inner demons scream at me, revealing the true intention of his rescue.
The doors close on them as I bolt toward the elevator, arms reaching out for Eve. I’m two feet away when it begins to descend, a deafening shriek from inside making the walls vibrate.
“Holly!”
11
EVE
Her name rings in my ears as my voice reverberates around the elevator, my throat hoarse from terror as I stare at the closed doors between us. I’m too disoriented to tell which direction we’re moving. Up, down—it makes no difference, as we barely have time to travel anywhere before I see his hand reach out for the emergency stop lever, halting us. We’re suspended between floors. We’re alone.
I cower. Squeeze myself into the elevator’s wall and will the metal to absorb me. I shouldn’t be here. I should still be in the meeting, hearing all about the Potential they carefully selected for me. I should still be in that room.
That room.
Diego.
Mother Nina.
My body convulses, jerking me forward as I gag.
No time to dwell. No time to think.
Not now.
I look at the black boots as they turn in my direction.
It’s him. The one from before. The one I looked at. The one who looked at me. He grabbed me around the waist. Dragged me out of that room. Pulled me to safety.
Safety.
When his hands first found me I thought that was the case. I thought it was part of another plan I’d not been briefed on, but there was too much going on. Too much commotion, too much confusion. I was veiled, blended. Some of them might’ve thought she was me, but he knew where I was as he peeled me away from my friend and the bloody chaos.
My eyes slowly travel over his boots, his uniform to his heaving chest.
“Take off your veil,” he says, swallowing hard, his fingers clenching.
“No,” I whimper, my voice barely audible.
His hand reaches up and snatches it away, causing the fabric to rip.
I look up at him then. The relief, delight, pleasure, and horror crossing his face tell me he wasn’t part of Diego’s plan, that he acted spontaneously, but also reveal that it wasn’t part of anyone else’s plan either. Not Ketch’s or Vivian’s, the company’s, or even his own.
He looks as surprised and confused as I feel, which frightens me.
“What are you going to do to me?” I’m trembling with fear—hoping the imploring look on my face will stop him from spoiling me, stealing the part of me that’s not meant for him. Vivian has told me of men’s natural instinct. It’s their weakness. I used to have special classes with her. I’ve known of our physical differences for quite some time, and of what our bodies will have to do to bring about the rebirth. It’s a sacred act, yet one that men yearn for through no fault of their own. It’s why we’re kept apart, why I’m never put into situations like this. They want the rebirth, but it must be done in the correct way.
I stare at the man before me. He doesn’t look evil or deviant, although right now it’s hard to see any softness. He’s big. He’s strong and solid. I felt the tightness of his grip when he pulled me from the chaos, and I’m aware that he could hurt me. I’m not sure I have the power to stop him.
He frowns at me as his tongue wets his lips. Perhaps, I think, he’s still torn between logic, duty, and his human desire. His apparent doubt spurs me on.
“It’s not worth it,” I say, my voice quiet. I try to remain calm and composed, even though I can feel my heart pounding frantically against my ribs.
“Isn’t it?” he growls, rocking on the heels of his feet.
“You saw what happened up there.” I wish I could create some distance between us so that I can’t feel his hot breath hitting my face. “You saw what they did to him. They’ll do the same to you. Eventually.”
He gives me a quizzical look.
He lifts his hands slowly, his fingertips moving over my clothes. They stop below my throat. For a split second I think he’s about to complete Diego’s mission and throttle me, but instead I hear the pop of a clip, and the fabric around my head drops. I stop breathing when his hands move to cup my face and he leans closer, his eyes shutting as he breathes me in, releasing a sound of pleasure.
“Your smell. It’s so—”
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I interrupt.
“Doing what?”
“This. You shouldn’t be here with me. They forbid it.”
“I was protecting you.”
“Were you?”
“Yes. Of course.” His face is ashen as he lowers his head, his hands moving away from my face and down to the uniform of the Mothers, which he fingers in distaste. “You shouldn’t be in this.”
He releases each button with deep concentration. He sucks in a new lungful of air when the dark khaki material falls away, revealing my dress.
I am Eve.
I stand a little taller and he bows his head, although I’m uncertain whether he does so out of habit or respect. Maybe it’s a bit of both.
“What’s your name?” I ask, his action making me feel more confident.
“Turner,” he replies, his face seeming kinder than before, the hardness in his eyes dissipating.
“Your first name?” I push. I know the Mothers by their given names and it occurs to me that this was probably because it seems more familiar and caring.
“Michael.”
“Michael,” I repeat. “How long have you worked here?”
“Years.”
I nod. “Thank you for keeping me safe during that time. I know—”
“I wouldn’t have hurt you,” he interrupts. His forehead creases in concern as his eyes search mine. “I swore an oath to protect you. I meant it. I would never—could never…I had to get you out of there.”
My breathing becomes a little easier. For years it’s been drummed into me that this is wrong. That I cannot look. Must not look or interact. They told me nothing good could come of it. They made me fearful of the devil within our ranks…
“Thank you,” I breathe, deciding to believe him. “I’m glad you did.”
And there she is in my mind, surrounded by everything that crashed into my life mere moments before I got into this elevator. Mother Nina, Diego, and that room flash before my eyes. Grief and horror consume me and I feel powerless.
“What’s going on?” I whimper. A sob escapes. A cry. A wail.
Michael puts an arm around my shoulders and guides me into his embrace. I don’t feel fearful of the action. I want it. I need it. I’m thankful for it. I gain comfort from it.
One thought echoes through my mind: Mother Nina is gone, and it’s all because of me.
I failed her.
12
BRAM
I’m running. No, I’m sprinting. I’ve never moved so fast in my entire life. Hartman can barely keep up as we fly through the locker room. I rip the visor from my face and cast it to the ground, where it skitters across the metallic hallway outside the studio.
Sirens are screeching. Emergency lighting casts deep red streaks across the smooth walls as we round the corner toward the elevator shaft. I can still see that last image of Eve reaching out to Holly, to me, before the doors closed on her…on them.
She’s inside the metal ball with that guard. That soldier. That man. Alone.
All at once I think of every possibility. Every outcome. Every eventuality.
I need to get to Eve.
I feel a tidal wave of adrenaline roll through my body.
I must get to Eve.
My eyes see only the elevator. My body slams against the cold metal-and-glass doors, but I feel nothing. I push my fingers into the thinnest crack between them, the metal frame ripping through the pressure gloves still covering them. These doors are designed not to be breached.
“You won’t get them open like that,” Hartman yells as he arrives next to me. I ignore him and keep trying to pry the doors open with my fist.
“They’re magnetically sealed, Bram!” he continues as he unravels wires from something small and electronic. “Do something useful and unscrew the cover—” He stops mid-sentence, interrupted by the sound of me tearing the metallic front panel off the wall like it’s made of cardboard. “Or that works too.”
He begins to replace the wires with more from the device in his hands. As the last clicks into place, he punches a button on the box in his hands and we hear the elevator spring to life behind the thick transparent doors.
Hartman and I catch each other’s eyes, both trying not to think about what we might find when those doors open.
I bounce on the spot as my mind tries to analyze the situation.
An armed soldier has kidnapped the most precious human on the planet, is now trapped in a confined space with her—and we are about to confront him. The very future of our species depends on what we do next. We are unarmed and I’m wearing skintight Lycra. If he’s hostile we’re screwed.
“Where is it?” I snap at Hartman, looking through the sheets of glass, waiting for the spherical chamber to appear. It’s taking forever. He looks at the display on the device he wired into the wall.
“Three floors away. Two…one…” He stops as we hear the soft swish of the approaching elevator. Then we see it descend on the other side of the doors, its chromatic outer walls distorting our reflections as it halts in front of us.
There are no voices inside.
No screams.
My heart stops as my brain flashes horrific images of the worst possible outcome. I shake them out of my head.
The doors open and instinct takes over.
13
EVE
Michael is
yanked away from me at a fearsome speed before I see a fist fly into view, striking his jaw. He’s knocked out cold, his masculine body splayed lifelessly across the floor.
“Don’t hurt him,” I yelp, holding out an arm to stop the attacker as I crouch next to Michael on my knees, instinctively becoming a barrier between him and the other while I check that he’s okay. I brush my hand across his face, careful not to touch the painful-looking welt that’s already forming. It was quite a punch. “He was trying to help,” I scold, sounding like one of the Mothers.
“He’ll be fine,” a voice says, sounding irritated.
I turn and see two men—boys, rather. They must be my age or close to it, both red-faced and out of breath. One wears the familiar uniform of the guards, although it’s blue and has what I assume is his name stitched into the fabric across his chest—Hartman. The other wears a shiny black sports suit that highlights his athletic frame—he’s the one who threw the punch.
I’m wondering whether I’m in danger at someone else’s hands when I take in the second guy’s features and my eyes lock with his.
Hers.
I gasp. I’ve looked into those eyes almost every day for as long as I can remember. I know their almond shape and the soul that lies beyond them. I’m gawking as I take in the alien features that surround the familiar. I’ve often wondered what she looked like in her true form. Of course, there was always the possibility that she was one of the Mothers, and I had considered it but reasoned against it: she just seemed younger.
I’m struck by how different he is from Holly, my blond-haired, green-eyed companion, with her delicate frame and beautiful face. He too is beautiful, but in a very different way. His dark blond hair is clipped short in what I’m guessing is their uniform style—he and his companion both sport it. His smooth skin has a subtle olive tone. I notice little beads of sweat on his wide nose and across his cheeks. His eyes are enchantingly dark—a rich, velvet brown that glistens in the light. The color may be different from Holly’s but those eyes are the same.
Eve of Man Page 8
