Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  The traffic was heavy here; one last glance over my shoulder revealed two of my four pursuers coming out of the alleyway. They'd just turn their heads and I saw them point at me, shouting — before I ran behind a delivery truck and cut off their line of sight.

  Taking advantage of this, I made a sharp turn right before they could see which way I went. Down another alley I went, opening to another street, with a set of stairs to my right, wrapped around a building.

  I took the stairs, desperate to throw them off my tail. I bounded up the steps three at a time, swinging around the corner and up another flight, before finding myself on the small garden roof of a three-story building. There was no one up here except for a collection of dead potted plants and some lawn chairs. I paused for a second, catching my breath and trying to decide what to do next.

  To my left was the fourth and fifth floors of the apartment building, too high for me to scal. To my right to the building on the other side of the alleyway I was just in. The gap was maybe ten feet, but the other roof was lower.

  I couldn't believe I was actually thinking of this. Was I really going to jump across buildings? That was something I only saw crazy parkour artists do in New York.

  But what other option was there? I wasn't going to go inside this building, I wasn't going to trap myself in tight rooms and hallways.

  No. I had to keep going.

  But the only way to keep going was to jump. The thought sent jitters through my system, and I almost gave up right then and there. There was no way I could do this. I wasn't that stupid. I could get hurt! This could all go so wrong so quickly!

  It could also go wrong if I got caught.

  Hating myself and hoping my stupidity didn't get me killed, I took a deep breath. Then I grimaced, and charged the end of the roof.

  I crossed the space in less than a second, faster than I anticipated. I almost forgot to lift my foot, to step onto the low ridge before leaping off.

  The wind rushed past my ears as I threw myself into open air. The alleyway gaped open beneath me, like that maw of Charybdis, hungry monster ready to swallow me whole. A long drop that I would not survive — at least not without a few broken bones.

  Vertigo hit me, dizzying and nauseous. My heart leapt into my throat. My mind blanked. This was it. This was how I died.

  It passed beneath me. For a split second, I spotted two men in black passing in the street, who did a double-take when they saw me leaping across. I didn't have time to think about that before the other roof rushed up to greet me, a blur of hard terracotta and dusty brick.

  'There she is!' I heard them shout below me.

  Whumph!

  I gasped as I landed on the balls of my feet only to overbalance and fall forward. I threw out my arms to protect my fact, and fell hard on my stomach.

  I grunted, the air knocked out of my lungs, and I laid there, breathless for a moment. The shock of the fall reverberated through my body, hurting mostly my chest, and a new twinging in my back reminded me that I had been shot. And might still be soon.

  With one last look over my shoulder, I picked myself up and kept going.

  I made it across exactly one roof before the ground in front of me exploded — two gunshots rang through the air. My heart skipped, the sound piercing my ears — like thunder, deep in my head.

  'Stop right there!'

  I came to an abrupt halt, skidding and breathing hard. Heart racing, I threw up my hands, turned around slowly to see who stopped me.

  I thought it might've been one of my pursuers who somehow managed to flank me, but I was surprised when I came face to face with a man in armor, wielding a large rifle. One of the roof guards, like I'd seen earlier at the hospital.

  He looked angry, an expression I couldn't comprehend. 'Get on your knees!' He shouted, gesturing with his gun. Pointed at me. At me.

  'Please, you can't —'

  'Get on your knees!' He repeated, stepping for and raising his gun. I thought he'd shoot me, but instead he struck me across the shoulder, forcing me down. 'Do it! Now!'

  'Okay, okay!' I winced, biting back a cry. I could feel my eyes burn, a lump forming in my throat; terror and confusion overwhelmed me. No ever treated me like this before, not so harshly, not so violently. I never thought about how awful it was to be struck by someone I didn't know. I wanted to explain that this was an accident, just a big mistake, that he had no reason to point the gun at me — that I was no danger, why was he treating me like I was a danger.

  'Put your hands on your head,' the guard ordered, leveling his gun back at my head. I couldn't take my eyes off of the barrel, the hole raised to my brow. It was so huge, the bullets it carried could probably take off my entire head. Hands shaking, I did as he ordered. I could feel a headache forming between my eyes.

  I opened my mouth to protest — to say anything so he wouldn't kill me, that I was lost, I was American, that I was being chased.

  But before I could say anything, another gunshot rang out. But not from the guard, whose head jerked forward. I yelped, surprised, as he fell, suddenly limp, to the ground, revealing a hole in the back of his head.

  Behind him appeared my two pursuers — one bearded, the other wearing a green kerchief. The bearded one had his pistol aloft, its muzzle still smoking. We stared at each other for one long moment.

  What the hell are you doing? Run, damn it!

  My senses returned to me, and I scrambled to my feet.

  At the sight of them, I scrambled to my feet — but before I could get away, Green Kerchief lunged forward, grabbing my by the arms as I attempted to get away.

  'Oh, no, no, no!' he grunted, smiling a little as I cried out, tried kicking him, but he had me pinned in a second, one arm around my neck and another my middle. 'You're not getting away from us this time, Subject Forty-Seven.'

  'Let go of me!' I snapped, twisting this way and that, getting hair in my face. My chest hurt, and the sob that I was holding down was threatening to break free. The only thing keeping me from totally breaking down was a strange electric feeling in my veins, the same feeling that had me kicking and fighting, even though I knew I should just be trying to talk to them, to explain that there must be a big mistake. 'I'm not who you think I am! Let me go!'

  'I can't believe it's still alive,' Green Kerchief grunted, trying to keep a hold of me. He had to readjust his grip every few seconds. 'You'd think two bullets would be enough us normal folk, but I guess not, huh?'

  'Didn't you read the file?' The bearded one asked, throwing his compatriot a skeptical look as he holstered his gun. 'This thing isn't normal. None of them are. Lucky for us, it's not as smart as the other two.'

  Then, to me, he sneered and said, 'Did you really think you could escape the Crucible so easily? The Chairman doesn't tolerate deserters or rebels.'

  'You don't get it! You have the wrong person!' I shook my head. The Crucible? The Chairman? None of that sounded familiar. 'Please, you have to believe me. I'm American, I'm not supposed to be here. I don't know what you're talking about.'

  'Oh, is that so?' The bearded man tilted his head, smiling, stepping closer. So calm, so casual, watching a girl tremble and shake in fear as though he were enjoying it. It made me sick, but not as much as what he said next. 'Then how is it you can speak Sokovian?'

  'W-what?' I stared at him, freezing in surprise. I hadn't even realized we weren't speaking English. Just like in the hospital, it had been so natural, it hardly felt different. But now that he said it, I realized he was right. The words he spoke and the words I said weren't English in the least. I didn't even know how to switch back. 'I don't—I don't understand…'

  'It's alright,' the bearded man said, in what seemed to be an attempt at kindness, but only came across as condescending. 'Once you're back under our roof, we'll make sure you'll never be confused again.'

  'Just make it easy on yourself, Amelia,' Green Kerchief said in my ear and I froze. Suddenly, I was breathless, like I'd b
een punched in the gut.

  There was no mistake. They knew who I was.

  My head continued to pound, worse than before. I watched blankly as the bearded one pulled out a case from his pocket. Unzipping it, revealed a syringe, needle, and vial of clear liquid. I seized at the sight of this, but Green Kerchief held on, continued, 'Don't fight this. If you can admit your shame for disobedience, for trusting your so-called friends, the Chairman can be made to see forgiveness. He's not unreasonable. Loyalty is always rewarded.'

  The bearded man fixed the syringe and needle, before drawing up 30 ccs of that strange liquid. He brought it up to my arm, and Green Kerchief pulled up my sleeve to reveal the skin underneath. I tried to fight it, but he still had me pinned, and it only made the Bearded man draw closer.

  The Bearded man looked me in the eye and asked, 'Last chance, Amelia. Would you kindly be a good little soldier and shut the hell up?'

  I paused, meeting the Bearded man eye to eye.

  'No.'

  Then my legs raised, knees bent, seemingly of their own accord. Green Kerchief swayed back, surprised, as my weight was suddenly redistributed entirely onto him. I watched in dazed bewilderment as I locked my ankles around the Bearded one's hand.

  Then snapped it to the left.

  Crack!

  'Augh!' The bearded one grunted in pain, bending down over his broken wrist, having dropped the syringe.

  At the same time, I whipped my head back, head a loud crunch as the back of my head connected to Green Kerchief's nose.

  Green Kerchief cried out, but the blow only loosened his grip, instead of releasing me.

  But it was enough.

  One arm came loose, and I slammed my elbow back into his gut, heard the gasp as I knocked the air out of him. Thrusting out with my arms, it was so, so easy to break through his hold. In fact, I had done it with enough force to knock Green Kerchief back, and he stumbled back, one hand over his bleeding nose.

  I raised my fist to finish him off, but heard a click behind me.

  One glance over my shoulder. Bearded one was getting back up, pulling out his gun with his good hand, bringing it up on me.

  I didn't even pause to think. Instead, it felt like I was at the mercy of an invisible puppet master, controlling my every move with seamless choreography. I threw my weight back on one foot, lifted the other, swiveled my hips and shoulders at the same time. The motion spun me around, my foot swinging through the air. My heel made direct contact with his hand, knocking it away just as he pulled the trigger.

  The bullet shot wide, past my head. The gun fell.

  The bearded one grimaced, his mouth opening in a shout of rage. It ended when my follow-up, a fist, smashed into his jaw.

  He dropped, face-first, into the ground.

  'Dammit!' Green Kerchief cried — I whipped around, startled by the sudden switch to English. I almost forgot what it sounded like until I heard it, but reacted immediately when Green Kerchief whipped out a metal baton.

  Nose still bleeding, he lunged at me, swinging hard. I thought it'd hit me, crack against my skull — instead, I ducked. His arm swung over my head, and I reached up to grab it. Twisting myself around so his chest slammed into my back, a move that would typically leave me crushed, instead had me bending down, taking Kerchief with me.

  His weight and momentum sent him flying over onto his back in front of me, landing on top of the already fallen Bearded one.

  The baton had dropped. Green Kerchief was still moving, reaching for the fallen weapon. Without thinking, I grabbed it first, jumped to my feet, and struck him across the head.

  He went still.

  I stood over them, gasping a little, barely out of breath. Two men, over six feet tall, totaling 400 pounds, armed with weapons.

  Taken down in less than ten seconds.

  By me.

  I dropped the baton, horrified. Stumbling back, I brought my hands to my mouth, then away again, staring at my palms as if they no longer belonged to me.

  My hands shook now, when only a second ago they had delivered powerful, deliberate blows. There was no way I did that. There was no way Mia, the tiny asthmatic fifteen-year-old with a weak immune system and fragile bones, who never laid a hand on anyone in her entire life, who wouldn't hurt a soul, didn't have the heart to, could take down these two men.

  The worst part was how efficient it was. How quick, how easy. How I didn't even have to think.

  It had been instinct.

  An instinct I didn't have before.

  'No, no…' I shook my head, looked back at the scene before me. I swallowing at the lump in my throat, clutching my head as it throbbed. The gunshots still echoed in my ears, knocked around inside my mind. 'N-not possible. Not logically possible.'

  But there was no logic to be found here.

  The air was quiet, calm again. No one else had witnessed what just happened — I was still questioning if it even happened at all. Was this real? Did I really do that?

  Two unconscious bodies. One dead one.

  There was still more of them out there. These...whoever they were. Soldiers, agents? They almost sounded like spies, but...well, it couldn't be spies. How the hell would I have ever gotten involved in that? This kind of stuff only happened in movies. It wasn't real life.

  But apparently fact was stranger than fiction. And I couldn't deny what happened here.

  Neither would anyone else, once they stumbled upon this.

  I had to go. Now.

  So I turned and started to run.

  You'd think there wouldn't be anywhere else to go. Turns out I still had energy left to bound across a couple roofs; my motions were more erratic now, fueled by a panic I couldn't quell. Before, I had been scared of my pursuers, my panic certain and true, knowing that I had to get away, to survive somehow.

  Now, I was scared of myself. And that was one thing I couldn't run away from.

  But I could try.

  I ran as far as I could along the rooftops, running into tables and chairs, knocking over plants, startling a woman taking down her laundry. I could only offer a curt, honest apology before stumbling away again, horrified of maybe hurting her, too. Who knows, what if I just lost it, what if my body just started attacking every one of its own accord?

  I didn't get tired, even after everything that happened. A scary thing, in its own right. I just kept running.

  Eventually, I came to the end of the road. The only way was down.

  I skidded to a stop at the edge, breathing hard. I couldn't very well jump, I wasn't suicidal. I was three stories up, and the only way off was a rickety old fire-escape. That'd probably take time, and for some reason now that I slowed down, I didn't want to keep running. I wanted to hide. I was out of sight from the rest of my pursuers, I should at least find a place to hunker down, make sure they were off my trail.

  I scanned the buildings around me. In front was a wide street, one of the main paths in the city. Left and right were smaller ones, residential areas filled with shorter buildings, some lone-standing houses. I seemed to be in the suburbs of some sort. Whatever city this was.

  Then, along the larger street, I saw a run-down old brick building. One of the walls had crumbled at the top, leaving a caved roof, and the doors and windows were missing. It might've been an office building once, something real fancy with its stonework and large entrance. There was an old sign above the doorway, paint stripped away and made unreadable by years of weather. No one seemed to have inhabited it for a while.

  In New York, you didn't go into abandoned and condemned buildings because you weren't stupid or desperate. Places like that was filled with dangerous stuff; nails on the floor, broken glass, asbestos, lead paint, shaky foundation. One wrong move could bring the whole thing down on top of you.

  Peter liked exploring them, especially the old factories and mills still left in Manhattan. They turned out to be a great source of cool, arty photos.

  And in this c
ase, they also provided a good hiding spot for those who didn't want to be found.

  I made my way down the fire escape, careful not to cut myself on any sharp edges. I was still shaken, and I didn't trust my body to do what I wanted it to do anymore, so I took special care not to do anything frivolous. When I finally dropped down to solid ground, I wilted in relief.

  Then I entered the street, drifted into pedestrian traffic, keeping my head down, my shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around myself, where I knew they couldn't touch anyone.