by Marina Epley
We head back toward our quarters. Passing Marian’s room, I can’t help sneaking a quick glimpse through the slightly open door. Her room is empty and her bed looks untouched. I know it’s way too early for my sister to be up and around. She doesn’t usually rise before noon.
Marian doesn’t show up for the rest of the day. In the evening I become really worried. I realize my sister must have run away.
***
Elimination officers locate Marian two days later and bring her to me in the middle of the night. My sister laughs, pushing the officers away. Her clothes are torn and I can smell alcohol on her breath.
“Thanks, guys,” I say to the officers. “Where did you find her?”
“You don’t want to know,” they answer before leaving.
Left alone, Marian and I stare at each other. She smiles. I envision smacking her head and yelling at her, but I know better. I begin calmly, “I was going crazy worrying about you. Where have you been?”
“What do you care?” my sister asks. “I can do whatever I want.”
She lets out a mocking laugh, tilting her head backward.
“You’re drunk,” I say with disgust.
“So what?” Marian snorts.
“C’mon, I’ll take you to your room,” I say, grabbing her arm.
“Don’t touch me!” Marian screams.
I grip her arm tighter, leading her into the corridor. She follows, whining quietly. As we enter her room, Marian finally frees her arm, moving away from me.
“Leave me alone!” she demands.
“I’ve been worried about you,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You can’t just disappear like that. You at least have to tell me where you’re going. I thought something bad might have happened to you. There are terrorists in the city.”
“Oh really?” Marian asks. “What can they do to me that I haven’t already been through before?”
“They can kill you for one thing,” I answer.
“Fine! I wish to be dead anyway. I’m sick of this miserable stupid life. I want them to kill me!”
Marian kicks the bed furiously, letting out a wild yell. She grabs a pillow and throws it against the wall, then begins kicking it too. I watch in a stupor.
“Stop that,” I demand, grabbing her arm.
“Let me go!” Marian yells. “Help!”
I notice several old thin scars on the bare skin of her wrist.
“What’s this?” I exclaim.
Marian follows my gaze and suddenly becomes motionless.
“Nothing,” she quietly mutters.
I yank the sleeve up, staring at her damaged skin. Her entire arm is scarred.
“Goodness,” I breathe out. “Did you do that to yourself? Are you a cutter?”
“Don’t look!” Marian cries out, slapping away my hand. “I don’t do that anymore.”
She pulls her sleeve down low, seemingly embarrassed.
“Where else did you cut?” I ask.
Marian ignores my question, gazing at the wall.
“Where else did you cut?” I repeat. “Answer me, Marian!”
“My thighs,” she confesses. “But nobody can tell even when I wear a skirt. That’s it. I didn’t cut anywhere else. And I quit like I said.”
I don’t believe her.
“Why did you hurt yourself?” I ask, making my voice sound softer. “It must’ve hurt. And it looks ugly.”
My sister scowls, glaring at me.
“I want to feel the pain!” she shouts. “I want to look ugly! That’s exactly what I need.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how I am inside! I’m ugly and nasty. So I wanted to look this way. I’m just a filthy piece of stinking trash!”
“Seems so at the moment,” I say.
“Do you really think you’re any better? Maybe you actually believe you’re a higher race because you’re a breaker? You’re worse off than me! You’re nobody!”
I stare blankly at her. The image of a shouting Emily pops up in my mind. I will myself to stay calm, but become angry in spite of my effort. Marian obviously knows very well how to manipulate people.
“My mother never liked you,” she says spitefully. “She hated you because she knew you were just a stinking freak. She loved me much more. I was her princess. And you killed my mother for that. Because you wanted to steal me away for yourself, you wanted to own me.”
“Stop it,” I say.
“I won’t stop!” Marian shouts. “Don’t you like me anymore? Do you hate me now? Well, enjoy it. This is who I’ve become. Or maybe you expected something different after everything you did to me?”
“What did I ever do?” I ask.
“You left me with her! You ran away like a coward. You didn’t care one bit what might happen to me.”
I stand unmoving, watching her. Marian continues yelling at me. Her face reddens, and she looks vicious and ugly. I think of Emily. It seems to me they’re just about the same. Even Marian’s voice sounds like my mother’s. Ten years have passed, and I still have to listen to the same insults, now coming from her daughter’s mouth. It makes me really angry. I get a strong urge to grab Marian and shake her violently, or else slap her hard across the face.
“I hate you!” she shouts. “And I’ll always hate you! You’re just a killer.”
“Just shut up,” I demand.
“Or what?” she asks. “What will you do if I don’t shut up?”
“Don’t try me, Marian.”
My sister laughs, curling her lips into a challenging smile.
“Want to hit me?” she asks. “Go ahead, loser! I’m not afraid of you.”
“I’ve warned you,” I say slowly.
“C’mon, be a real man and hit me,” Marian laughs, stepping closer. “Show me what you can do. I know you want to. You like hurting people.”
I stand motionless, afraid of what I might do.
“Are you scared to hit your little sister?” she mocks.
“I’m not so sure you’re my sister.”
A moment later Marian slaps me hard across the face. I step away, staring at her in shock. I hadn’t seen it coming, although I should have. I know she has a mean streak. But part of me still doesn’t want to believe she could do something like that.
“Are you crazy?!” I ask.
Marian lunges forward, attempting to slap me a second time, but I catch her wrist.
“C’mon, do it!” she yells. “I know you hate me. I know you want to hurt me.”
“Quit fighting!” I shout, restraining her arms. “I don’t hate you.”
Marian struggles to free herself but to no avail. Angered, she lets out a furious growl and spits right into my face. I release her, being stunned. I back away, wiping my face. Not even Emily has ever treated me this way before.
I turn to see my sister watching, waiting for my reaction. Our eyes meet and her expression becomes fearful.
“Do you hate me now?” Marian whispers.
Her hands begin shaking. I don’t think she’s only pretending. She must be truly frightened of me.
Why is she behaving like this? I wonder. Why is she literally begging me to hit her?
I suddenly remember Emily slapping my face, then holding me and asking for forgiveness. I remember her yelling insults and throwing books at me. Afterwards she was always so loving and gentle. That was the only way to earn my mother’s love.
I finally get it. I realize why Marian is behaving so aggressively toward me. I don’t understand why I couldn’t see it earlier. My sister is trying to drag me back into the same vicious pattern of violence and forgiveness. She learned this behavior at our mother’s feet. Emily must have abused and insulted her for many years. My sister now expects me to take Emily’s role.
No way.
I quickly approach Marian and wrap my arms around her. She expels a terrified scream, weakly pushing me away. I tightly hold her, rubbing her back.
“It’s all right,” I say. “Everything is okay.
I’m not angry.”
She resists for a few more moments, then becomes still and begins crying. She presses her face into my shoulder.
“You can’t possibly do anything to make me hate you,” I say. “I love you and I want you to always remember that. But I need you to understand that you should never hurt the people you love, Marian.”
“But that’s what she did,” Marian mumbles, still crying.
“She’s gone,” I say. “And we don’t have to be like her.”
I hold my sister for a long time, waiting for her to calm down. Marian finally becomes quiet, being completely exhausted. I help remove her boots and jacket, then put her to bed.
“She always said I was nasty and dirty,” my sister mutters, as I pull the blanket over her. “She said I needed discipline. You have to keep me on a short leash, and yank it any time I misbehave.”
“You’re not a dog, Marian,” I sigh. “Now go to sleep.”
She looks up at me with a miserable expression. I kiss her lightly on her forehead and exit the room.
I don’t sleep the rest of the night, thinking about my sister. I don’t know how I can help her. How can I undo the harmful effects of an overbearing mother?
I also wonder whether Marian’s suggestion concerning a lack of discipline has any bearing. My sister spends her days inside her room, mostly doing nothing. Perhaps bringing some discipline and schedule planning into her life could be helpful.
The next day I approach Rebecca, asking whether my sister could become a volunteer in the refugee center.
“She can be a little wild sometimes,” I warn.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Rebecca interrupts. “Your sister is a very sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll be very helpful.”
“Could you talk to Marian and ask her to help you at the center? I just don’t think my sister will listen to anything I suggest.”
“I understand,” she says, nodding. “Of course I’ll talk to her.”
I thank Rebecca sincerely.
I decide I should also find some information about survivors of child abuse. Maybe it could help me understand Marian better.
The following evening, Kitty and I again attempt to locate the terrorists, spending hours in Holtzmann’s lab. We don’t succeed, leaving Holtzmann disappointed. Before falling asleep, I continue thinking about the burnt hospital and the terrorists responsible. I think about Guardian and his army. I wonder what they’re planning to do next.
I wake up in the middle of the night, with my pulse racing. I look to my left and see Kitty staring wide-eyed back at me. Her eyes are filled with terror.
“Have you seen it too?” she asks.
I nod. I understand we’ve somehow just shared the same vision. We both saw aircraft dropping bombs on the city. We witnessed groups of soldiers marching along the highway. We saw Guardian and Hammer studying maps.
“They’re going to attack the city, aren’t they?” Kitty whispers.
“We need to inform Vogel,” I say.
Chapter 11
I find the major in her office. She’s studying reports behind a large cluttered desk. Although it’s about 3:30 AM, Vogel still looks energetic and fresh, as if it’s the middle of a working day. A half-conscious Chase sits on the floor amongst a pile of open paper-folders, staring stupidly at the documents. I wonder whether he can even see the text.
Vogel looks up at me.
“What’s happened?” she asks calmly.
“Guardian’s troops are preparing to strike the city,” I blurt out, still breathing hard.
Vogel remains unimpressed.
“When?” she asks curtly.
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “It seemed like night time. Maybe tomorrow night.”
“Where did you obtain this information?”
I suspect she already knows the answer.
“Kitty and I had telepathic visions,” I say.
“Could they be inaccurate?” she questions.
“That’s definitely possible,” I admit. “I’ve had false visions before. But this time Kitty and I both saw the same images. So it may increase the probability the visions were accurate. I don’t know, Holtzmann understands these things better.” I pause, collecting my thoughts. Vogel watches me warily. “I hope Kitty and I are mistaken,” I say. “Otherwise, the entire city is in danger. It looked like a massive attack. Aircraft, bombings. Thousands of Guardian’s soldiers heading toward the city.”
I pause again, running out of breath. My pulse is still racing. Those visions have chilled me to the core.
Vogel doesn’t answer, thinking on my words. I become worried that she won’t heed my warning. I’ve no idea what’s going on inside her head. Will she take action on the word of a breaker?
“We should prepare then,” Vogel says. “Chase, go wake everybody. We’ll have a meeting in twenty minutes.”
I exhale a breath of relief. She believes me.
Chase obediently crawls away from the pile of documents and heads toward the door, slightly swaying. I wonder when he last slept.
Vogel becomes silent, gazing off into space. I remain standing in the middle of the room, thinking about the visions. I truly hope they were false.
I notice two framed pictures on Vogel’s desk, one of a mid-aged man in a black uniform and another with a young guy about my age. Her deceased husband and son, I realize. Vogel catches me staring at the pictures. She suddenly seems thoughtful and tired, more human.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” I say.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Vogel answers. “A lot of people have recently lost their families.”
There’s no self-pity in her voice. I become quiet again, not sure what else to say. I’ve never been good at expressing sympathy. And I’m not sure whether it’s appropriate or not for me to speak to Vogel about her dead relatives. Breakers killed her son as I recall.
“How many soldiers will Guardian throw into this attack?” Vogel asks.
“I don’t know for sure,” I say.
“Give me your best guesstimate.”
“Three or four thousand. Maybe more.”
Vogel nods, thinking.
“So they greatly outnumber us,” she states. “Rex, can I rely on Oliver’s breakers during the coming battle? Will they be willing to help us defend the city?”
“Sure,” I answer. “Of course, you can rely on us. That’s why we came, to help defend the city. We’ll do our best.”
Vogel smiles.
“Very well then,” she says. “Have a seat, Rex. You’re too wired. You need to calm down.”
Simpler said than done. I take a seat, but can’t keep still. I continue replaying the images of the coming attack in my mind. Bombs dropping directly into crowds of people. I imagine disfigured bodies and filling mass graves. I’ve already had to go through this before. I don’t want to witness another massacre.
Vogel continues studying the reports. Nothing seems to affect her.
A few minutes later Chase returns with Oliver, along with my team and a group of officers. We have a two hour meeting, drinking strong coffee and developing a strategy for defending the city.
“They’re going to smash us,” Oliver says. “We currently have only two thousand soldiers, including new recruits. Guardian has ten times as many. They have aircraft with missiles and plenty of ammo.”
“He won’t be throwing all his troops into this attack,” Vogel answers confidently. “His army is too strung out controlling multiple cities all over the country. They’d risk losing other positions, if they mass everything against us.”
“And Guardian’s soldiers are not professional,” I add. “Most of them don’t have any real combat training. I think his troops will be mostly used to test our perimeter. Guardian will want to see how strong our defenses are.”
After the meeting we begin the vigorous preparations for a possible attack. Chase’s media squad contacts the newspapers and TV stations, alerting city residents to th
e danger. They encourage any resistant people and breakers alike to join the city defense. Within a few hours, an enormous crowd of volunteers gather at the prison entrance. I doubt all of these people are truly resistant. Most likely they’re just not willing to stand aside, with their families in imminent danger. I understand their desire to help, but only truly resistant individuals can be accepted. Vogel makes Holtzmann responsible for testing the fresh volunteers.
The officers and recruits build barricades across all main roads, to block incoming traffic into the city. They spread the few anti-aircraft guns around the city perimeter, although I doubt Elimination soldiers are trained to use these types of weapons. They had commandeered them from destroyed military bases during the first months of the war. They also acquired grenades and explosives, which we now use for setting traps all around the city borders. Other recruits mix crude Molotov cocktails in glass bottles, using gasoline and motor oil.
A major problem is that we don’t have enough rifles to arm the volunteers. They’ll have to use whatever they can find against Guardian’s guns.
“They’re gonna die,” Chase states, looking over our new recruits.
“They’ll only participate if troops break through our lines,” I answer.
“I believe that’s precisely what’s going to happen,” he sighs.
My team assists in building barricades. We use debris, junk cars and any large objects we can find. Dave and Marcus string rolls of barbed wire. We stay after it, working non-stop throughout the day. I ask Kitty not to carry anything heavy, but she doesn’t listen. I’m also hesitant about letting her join the front lines of defense, but Kitty doesn’t seem to care about my opinion.
“I have to be there with you,” she says. “I need to make sure nothing horrible happens.”
I begin to argue, but she only smiles back at me. I sigh, knowing that Kitty is going to participate in this battle, no matter what I say.
I haven’t slept much, but still feel fully awake and energetic. I obsessively continue building the barricades, thinking about facing Guardian’s soldiers. Some part of me craves blood, itching for revenge. But another part is still hopeful that the visions were false. It’s going to be a massacre unwitnessed before. I’ve been in a few gunfights and even survived a bombing or two, but I’ve never participated in a battle of such magnitude as the one in the vision.
