Perfection

by J. L. Spelbring

  Ellyssa’s hands flopped to her side. “Yes.” She returned to her cot. “Please.” She offered him a seat across from her.

  “I won’t be staying,” he said, much to her relief. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for my previous behavior.”

  “No apology is necessary.”

  “No, there is. Jordan was right.” Woody’s voice choked on the old leader’s name. “You can teach our people a lot.”

  Placing his elbows on his knees, he looked at her, his tired grey eyes full of sadness, his hair in disarray. “I was part of society at one time. I ran away when I was eight.”

  Ellyssa was taken aback. “You ran away?”

  Woody nodded. “My eyes aren’t quite right, and my hair…” He waved his hand as if presenting the trouble crowning the top of his head. “My real mother couldn’t stand to look at me anymore—because of my imperfections. I overheard my parents. They wanted to send me to the camps. I ran.”

  “How did you survive?”

  “One evening, late at night, I was rooting around in some trash cans, in search of something to eat.” He chuckled as a look of disgust registered on Ellyssa’s face.

  Partly aghast at his rummaging for food in garbage, and the other part angry over her lessening ability to pay attention to control, Ellyssa blanked her face.

  “A woman heard me and came out to investigate,” he continued. “I tried to hide behind the can, but she saw me and easily coaxed me out with a piece of bread.” Shaking his head. “I was bought with a piece of bread. Can you believe it?”

  Ellyssa didn’t know whether to respond. The answer was yes, though, she could believe it. Regular society’s children were not taught the art of survival.

  “I was lucky. Very lucky. The woman who coaxed me out was part of the movement.”

  “Just how many are there?”

  “More than you would think. More than even we know. The lady,” Woody continued, “brought me here. Jordan took me as his own.” He rubbed his hands together and stood. “Listen, I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.”

  “Accepted.”

  He left the room.

  Feeling better, Ellyssa finished her exercises with a lighter heart. She liked Woody. Not only for holding her when she’d broken down, but for exposing a part of himself to her.

  26

  Ellyssa was amazed how close the storage room was to where she’d been staying the last few weeks. Not once had she heard scraping boxes, or people filing in and out for supplies.

  She opened the closest box and pulled out an industrial can of peaches, like the ones the cafeteria at The Center served. She folded the lid down and placed it on top of another box with the same contents.

  “You should see this place when it’s full,” Trista said, carrying a carton marked with a red cross. “This is nothing.”

  “How long will this last?”

  Trista looked around. Beside the one box of medical supplies, the few remaining boxes held a dwindling stockpile of food. “Maybe a week, with hunting.”

  “I am amazed you have this much.”

  “We get a lot of help.” Trista set the medical supplies next to the doorway. “So, what’d you think of the council members?”

  Ellyssa pushed a large box against the wall as she thought about her newly assigned duties.

  Yesterday, a council meeting had been held. Unfortunately, it had been Jason who escorted Ellyssa to an unfamiliar part of the cavern, where the meetings were held. Distrustful of him, she’d kept her mind open to his thoughts.

  The images she’d received had been twisted, violent…and lustful.

  Ellyssa had prevented herself from taking him down right then. Thoughts were thoughts. Actions were what counted and, so far, he hadn’t done anything.

  When they’d reached the meeting room, Jason had entered first, brushing against her as he passed. His brief touch had caused nausea to roll in her stomach. He was lucky she’d fought the impulse that had swelled inside her. Maintaining her composure, she’d pretended nothing had happened.

  Woody had smiled encouragingly as Ellyssa had entered the tiny room, furnished with an old, rectangular table and metal folding chairs, like the researchers used during training at The Center. She’d made her way to sit next to him, then met the other council members.

  Eric, who was fifty—his grandparents among the original survivors—had caramel skin, like he was from Eastern descent, and hair a shade lighter than his complexion. He was friendly, and shook her hand when he introduced himself, as if they were old friends.

  Brenda, the only other female council member, was about forty, with premature greying hair and big eyes framed in blond lashes. By the way she spoke and presented herself, Ellyssa had determined that she was very intelligent. She had found out later, after the meeting, that Brenda had defected from society about twenty years ago.

  “They were very accommodating,” Ellyssa finally replied to Trista’s question.

  “Rein?” Trista asked.

  The mention of his name let loose butterflies in Ellyssa’s chest. Was he back? Hopeful, she turned toward the bouncy blonde. “Has he returned?” she asked.

  Trista frowned. “No.”

  “Oh.” Ellyssa poked around in a box, trying to hide her disappointment. “What about him?”

  “You know, what do you think?”

  Taken aback, Ellyssa gawked at her. “About Rein?” She felt the heat creeping up her neck. Was this girl talk? She’d never participated in the social custom of talking about boys. Not that she’d ever participated in anything more than flat, emotionless speech.

  A sly smile curled Trista’s lips. “Well?”

  Flustered, she felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I am supposed to think.”

  Scrunching up her face, Trista thought for a moment. “Do you like him?”

  Ellyssa felt an urge to look away. She clicked her tongue, secretly relishing the feeling of embarrassment, while buying time to find an answer. Should she admit her feelings? Trista’s eyebrows arched above her blue eyes while she waited.

  “Yes, I like him,” Ellyssa admitted.

  “He likes you, too.”

  Ellyssa’s lips curved into a smile. “How do you know?”

  “The way he watches you.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Like this.” Trista peered intensely at Ellyssa and then wagged her eyebrows. “How’s it going, baby?” she said in a deep, sultry voice that wasn’t even close to mimicking Rein’s. “How about a kiss?” She puckered her lips and made dog-calling sounds, swaying her shoulders seductively.

  Shaking her head, laughter burst forth from Ellyssa as if it had been waiting for the chance to spring forward. It was absolutely marvelous to allow the experience without worrying about punishment. Almost everything about the community had been positive, opening her to intense experiences she’d never fathomed possible with her upbringing.

  Still giggling, Trista shoved more cans into a box as Ellyssa’s thoughts moved to Jeremy, the catalyst of her being here. She wondered why Trista never mentioned him or his ability. Maybe there was a reason Jeremy’s skill had been kept secret, and an even bigger reason hers had never been mentioned.

  Instead, she said, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Trista answered, grinning.

  “What about Jason?”

  Trista’s smile faltering, she said, “What about him?”

  “I don’t know. It is just…” Ellyssa shrugged.

  “He’s creepy,” Trista finished.

  Ellyssa’s mouth twisted to the side as she nodded.

  “He’s harmless enough. But I know what you mean. He’s a little weird.”

  “Exactly. Where did he come from?”

  “He was born here. His mother and father died in a cave-in, along with my parents. They were expanding this section of the cave so the supplies could be stored further away. You know, for safety reasons.”

 
Uncomfortable at the direction the conversation had turned, Ellyssa became impassive. “I am sorry. I did not know.”

  Trista didn’t seem to notice the change in her demeanor, or her monotonous form of speech. “No need to apologize. It was a long time ago.”

  Ellyssa couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose people you loved and depended on. Her closest understanding of feeling sorrow had been for Jordan, and that still felt like her heart had been removed without painkillers. Not knowing whether she should attempt to offer comfort or stay silent, she watched Trista, hoping for a telltale clue.

  “Seriously. It happened years ago. I still miss them, but I choose to remember my parents with happy thoughts. I don’t want to dwell on the fact that they are gone.”

  “What type of thoughts?” Ellyssa asked, genuinely curious.

  “Well,” she replied, her face lighting up with pleasure, “things like my mother singing to me. She had a wonderful voice. And my father carrying me on his shoulders and pretending he was going to bang my head into the overhangs. Or, when we went outside and he’d toss me in the air. I thought he was the strongest person on the face of the earth. Invincible. Anyway,” she continued, “back to Jason. He’s harmless enough.”

  “He has never hurt anyone?”

  Trista frowned. “No. Never. Why would you ask that?”

  “Just the way he looks at people, once in a while.” She folded the flaps of the box inward.

  “That’s just the way he is.”

  Ellyssa carried the box of peaches from the storeroom and followed Trista through the passageway linking the old coal mine with the cavern. The bulky boxes made navigation difficult, but both managed by turning their loads sideways.

  A woman with auburn hair piled high on her head waited in the dining room. She took the box, offering Ellyssa a polite smile, and placed it on the edge of the serving pans.

  “Looks like fruit for lunch,” she said. “Hunting was disappointing today.”

  “That will be changing soon, Bertha. Ellyssa knows all about roots and scavenging in the woods. She’s going to show us how.”

  “Is that so?” Bertha asked, opening the box and removing a can.

  Trista nodded. “And spices.”

  That seemed to pique Bertha’s interest. “Spices?”

  “Yes,” Ellyssa said as she unpacked the goods. “There are many edible things most people don’t know about. Cattail roots can be reduced to flour for baking breads. You can boil milkweed leaves with salt, and it tastes like spinach. All parts of the dandelion plant can be used. Very nutritious.”

  “Dandelions.” Bertha wrinkled her nose.

  “Dandelions are very good for you. Rich in vitamins and minerals.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. There are many uses for them in medicines and such, too.” Ellyssa stopped unpacking and glanced at her company. “I’m surprised none of you know this.”

  “No need to,” said Bertha, taking a can and opening it. “We’ve always had supplies, and hunting and fishing.”

  “Surely, in the beginning, the founders had no contacts. They must have survived off the land.”

  Bertha shrugged. “I don’t know when or how the contacts were established.”

  “Hey, will you show us some of the plants today?” asked Trista.

  “And maybe afterward you can show me how to prepare them,” Bertha added.

  “My pleasure.”

  Ellyssa handed a can to Bertha. The woman gave her another smile, not just a polite one, but one of acceptance, possibly of friendship.

  There wasn’t much to do except pour the contents into tin bins for serving. Ellyssa found she enjoyed helping and being part of the community. This was unlike anything she’d ever had before.

  Dr. Hirch sat in front of his computer monitor, playing and replaying segments of each of his children’s training. He’d stop, rewind, and push play again, trying to catch the exact moment when each displayed their ability.

  A sight to behold. The beauty as Xaver’s rounded face was protected from debris, or Ahron’s flickered in and out of existence. What really astounded him, though, was Aalexis. The beautiful girl sat, as innocent as an angel, blond hair haloing her cherubic face. The subtle twitch of facial muscles, and the bullets curved as they changed trajectory and centered on the bull’s-eye.

  George’s pride and joy. The final step before true perfection. Without Aalexis’ unexpected mutation, he wasn’t sure the dream would even have been realized during his lifetime. After all, he had never planned on the ability manifesting at this stage. It had been a complete fluke.

  But now, they had her and the others, their DNA sequences almost isolated, and once Ellyssa was returned, plans would continue to progress.

  George turned and looked into a monitor, his face mirrored in the black surface.

  A perfect human. A soldier above and beyond the expectations even Hitler had envisioned. People created in his image. George would be the master builder. His children would honor his name forever.

  The imperfect world annihilated and replaced with Utopia.

  He replayed the image of Aalexis frame-by-frame, her demeanor unemotional, her face unreadable. The roar of gunfire, and then he caught what he’d been looking for. The air wavered, ever so slightly, as the molecules readjusted at her whim.

  George stopped and pressed replay to make sure it hadn’t been a glitch. When the moment popped up, he hit pause. A disturbance in the air was definitely noticeable.

  He clicked the drop-down menu, and pulled up the file containing Aalexis stacking blocks. He watched it over and over, frame by frame clicking along for thirty minutes before he found the disruption. In order for her to manipulate objects, she had to manipulate space.

  Astounding.

  It would stand to reason that Ahron and Xaver had the same ability. Each was limited separately, but when combined together into one…

  Could his soldier be able to blink someone from existence? Could he entrap people within force fields? The possibilities were limitless. Only testing would expose the still-uncreated creature’s capabilities.

  Technically, with just the three, he didn’t even need Ellyssa or Micah for the fighting aspect. Aalexis and her two brothers would be indestructible. But the combination of Ellyssa’s and Micah’s talents would greatly enhance the ability to seek out remaining Renegades. The despicable insects could no longer infect the population with their inferior genes, or their thoughts of independence.

  After another hour confirming the air disturbance with Xaver and Ahron, Dr. Hirch shut down the computer and went to his apartment. He pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner. The door slid open and admitted him into an environment of grandiosity that matched his achievements. Many antiques furnished the rooms, as well as symbolic artwork, including Hitler’s favorite painting, Isle of the Dead by Arnold Bocklin and its counterpart, The Island of Life. He had won them both in an auction after the Führer’s death.

  He paused at the Isle of the Dead, admiring the detail of the brush strokes, the cypress trees in a dense, dark grove, and the precipitous cliffs. It conveyed hopeless desperation, which was Earth before Hitler.

  Next to it, The Island of Life, showed a depiction of joy, of a perfect life, with swans and green trees and happy people under a blue sky with puffy white clouds. This was what life was expected to be once all the imperfections were eradicated. Peace and beauty.

  When George closed his eyes, he could almost taste the salt of the ocean on his lips and feel the gentle breeze embracing his skin and caressing his hair. Carefully, he touched the frame of the cherished picture, imagining the day when blond, blue-eyed people walked the earth with no threat of inferiors.

  The future was within his grasp.

  “Where did Davis say he was going tonight?” Angela asked.

  Dyllon handed her the receipts from Davis’ account. Several items and dates had been highlighted in yellow. “He requested to visit his family
in Kansas City. I checked it out. His mother, father, and two sisters live on Cypress Street. Both parents are highly regarded and teach at the university. One sister is an elementary school teacher, and the other is a secretary.” He placed the file on Davis’ family on top of the receipts.

  “What about his friends?” asked Micah, taking the file out from under Angela’s hand. His eyes scanned the paper as he read. Before it was naturally possible, he flipped the page and started the next.

  Heat flooded Angela’s cheeks. She snatched the receipts and began tracing the dates and purchases with her finger.

  “He doesn’t seem to have a lot. Mostly keeps to himself. I took the liberty of contacting the Kansas City police; they are going to conduct a few interviews with his neighbors.”

  Dyllon placed down a green daybook. Before Angela even had a chance to glance at it, Micah was flipping through the pages. DAILY LOG was marked in bold, black print.

  Angela hated him.

  Returning her attention to the receipts, she found a truck rental dated a little over a year ago. “What’s this?” She flipped the receipt over, with her finger underlining the cost of the rental.

  Dyllon opened a small notebook he’d pulled from his pocket and thumbed through some pages. “Here,” he said, turning the book around so Angela could read it. “Apparently, he was helping a friend move.”

  “I want you to find out which friend.”

  Micah tossed the daybook onto the table. “Do not bother.”

  Angela shot Dr. Hirch’s child a look of warning as she stood to face him. “You seem to have forgotten—I am in charge.”

  His face blank, void of the expected anger or of any other type of emotion, Micah’s azure eyes leveled on Angela’s. Emotions or not, she knew he was coolly challenging her.

  “If you wish, we can call der Vater.”

  “Maybe we should,” Angela said, calling his bluff, although, deep down she knew she didn’t stand a chance. She pulled out her phone and flipped it open.

  “Go ahead, or you can listen to me, instead.”

  Narrowing her lids into a skeptical glare, she closed her phone. “What?”