“These two women are free to go.” Frederick steps in front of the doctor with his taser level at her heart as the glass doors slide open letting Emma and Bryne escape. He turns to give Bryne a slight smile before gripping the doctor by her arm. “As for you two, you’ll sit right here until the authorities arrive.”
***
“Feeling better?” Bryne asks Emma as she steps out from the bathroom.
“So much better.” Emma ties her robe and slips her feet into the fuzzy white slippers. “Thanks for watching them for me. I really needed a shower.”
The twin boys coo at their Aunt Bryne from their playmat on the floor as she kisses each of their toes again. Emma smiles at them fondly. She never wanted to be a mother, but she’s adjusting to the role.
“Anytime.” Bryne smiles. “If you want, I can stay the night and help with a feeding or two.”
“You are amazing.” Emma falls onto the sofa and pulls a pillow across her lap. “Hey, I know we aren’t supposed to dwell on it, but I keep thinking that I wish we could have gotten the other girls out.”
“We did all we could. Dr. Briar and his whole team are in jail. They won’t be able to run tests on infants anymore.” Bryne whispers these last words hoping her nephews won’t hear them.
“It’s not just that,” Emma sighs. “It worries me to think of what could happen to all the girls that are still asleep. I don’t know how you did it, but I am so glad you ended up failing your tests.”
Bryne fingers the ancient plastic compact containing pills that Charlie scored for her from the black market in the slums. It never leaves her pocket now, but she won’t need to cheat the system anymore. “I’m really glad I failed them too.”
Heather Carson is the mother of two feral little boys by day and an author by night. When she isn't working on a new book, you'll probably find her running away to the wild somewhere.
Her love for literature pushed her into writing and her crazy dreams give her inspiration for new story ideas. She loves the dystopian/apocalyptic genres because of the thought-provoking conversations that come from reading them.
Her current works include the Project Dandelion Series, A Haunting Dystopian Tale (trilogy), and City on the Sea Series. To find out more, visit: www.heatherkcarson.com
The Fairest Blade
By L. B. Winters
“Deep within the hidden folds of despair...strength lives.”
Eve thought of her father’s words as she stood in the middle of the elevated platform like a queen standing on the balcony of a mighty castle. Behind her, strands of thick, dark, silk hair cascaded down her back creating a reflective waterfall that flowed against her thin frame. She stood tall, chin lifted with the confidence of a ruler. But in her kingdom, it wasn't the faces of loyal subjects that stared back at her. A thick and twisting sea of thorny branches extended as far as the eye could see. This place was nothing like the beautiful lush woods of her childhood. This was a cold, colorless world of muted browns, where silence reigned and sharp branches surrounded her “throne” like swords pointed at the neck of a criminal being led to the guillotine.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember what freedom felt like. The taste of her favorite summer berries, the smell of jasmine and rose carried on the evening breeze. The image of her friends gathered in the center of the western fields dancing to the hypnotic pulse of a drum beat echoing from the forest's edge. She could picture their faces. The smiles and the laughter as they twirled in circles, the woodland creatures watching their movements from afar.
She turned abruptly, black hair sweeping up into the air as she tried to get as far away from the memory as she could. She couldn’t think about these things, couldn't think about how much time had passed. Not when all signs pointed to her never making it back to those people again.
The paper-thin coating of calmness that usually kept her panic at bay was beginning to dissolve.
She could feel it as she moved, cracking and falling, piece by piece, like broken shards of glass from a shattered mirror. As the pieces fell the world spun, rotating faster and faster.
She fumbled for the railing, clutching to it for just a second before finally collapsing, her tear-stained cheek landing on the rotting wood of her palace. As the light faded, she was pulled deep into another realm that she had come to rule. Darkness…
***
Eve shot up from the hard ground, a blood curdling scream erupting from her mouth. She panted, her body struggling to pull in air as her heart beat frantically below her breast. She sat like this for several minutes as the fear slowly subsided and her surroundings came into focus.
She was in the Capitol Forest, the last perimeter before the waterway. She squeezed her eyes shut, repeating the words that were meant to bring her peace in moments like these. “You're not there anymore. You’re free.”
The doctors had said the nightmares would come. They warned her from the very beginning that this was a side effect of her torture. “Nobody can be trapped in a mental prison for that long and not be affected, Eve.”
Mental prison, she repeated to herself. That was the perfect description of what she had endured. For three years she was kept in an isolated room, strapped to a bed and pumped full of medications meant to keep her in a state of permanent hallucinations. And now...she was irrefutably damaged, filled with trauma that had driven its roots deep into the farthest corners of her subconscious. The worst part was that everyone knew it. A wave of nausea hit her, then another. She felt like she was losing her strength. Losing her ability to survive this.
Reaching for the bag beside her, Eve opened the main compartment and pulled out the last of the bread wrapped in cloth. The bread was stale and tasteless but it calmed her stomach which was a twisted knot. As she chewed, she surveyed the forest around her. How ironic, she thought, that the government left a forest for themselves. They’d stolen the beauty from everyone else, but made sure to keep a piece for themselves.
The Andrews Corp, aka the government, had targeted the forests first. Hundreds of thousands of acres of trees were torn down after the initial take over, their resources used up and replaced with large concrete towers that dotted the horizon. These machines were named “The Breathers” since their purpose was to filter the air, create oxygen, and sustain life.
Eve scoffed at their tag line. “We don't need to be concerned about what nature is doing, when we have science to counterbalance its changes.”
In the 25 years since their takeover, the Corp had taken control of the waterways and the skies. They’d wiped out huge populations of animals and filled the world with a thick black haze that seemed to infiltrate every surface and hidden crevice in the land.
The worst part was that this all had been done under the “watchful” eye of the people. Corp ads would run on TV, their propaganda printed in newspapers and journals. Commentators would debate the pros and cons of their mission. Why worry about the loss of resources when scientifically there would always be a way to replace them?
These days The Corp no longer needed to spin anything, now they controlled everything and their success was necessary for human survival.
But there was hope. Year after year more people grew tired of bowing to the will of the Corp. There was a growing willingness to fight back, to join the other side and use influence to deal major blows to the capital.
Eve finished her bread and tossed the cloth back in the bag before pushing herself up from the ground. She picked up the satchel and threw it over her shoulder. As she started forward, she once again thought of her father’s words. “Deep within the folds of despair...strength lives.”
***
The 10 Board members sat quietly at the massive conference table glancing nervously at one another. Something was different today. Vie Andrews stood in front, her back turned to them as she surveyed the grand expanse of factories, rail lines and billowing steam pipes that stretched on just outside the window. Her long white hair ran down the back of her silk bla
ck suit creating a jarring contrast. Nobody said a thing.
They’d been sitting in silence for almost 30 minutes, anxieties high as they waited to hear why she had called an emergency meeting. When she finally spoke, there was an eerie calm to her usually hate filled voice.
“The one who finds their leader will become vice chancellor.” She kept her back turned as she talked.
A collective gasp filled the room as the chancellor's words hit them hard. Vice chancellor? Heads moved from side to side as coworkers looked at one another. The realization of what this could mean slowly dawned on them and their expressions changed from confusion to ones of possibility.
“Oh... and I almost forgot,” she said as she turned around. “For the ones who prove to be useless in this matter. I have already made arrangements for you to be taken to THE CAMPS where you will spend your last days with the rebel Filth.” With that she turned and walked out the door leaving a sea of colorless faces behind.
***
There was no going back. A heavy lump sat in Eve’s throat as she stared down the dock and into the organized chaos of activity that filled the port. A million moving parts that somehow came together to move people and supplies across the River.
Behind the commotion a giant cityscape loomed in the distance, a thick blanket of gray smog puffing out from the hundreds of factory stacks that filled the sky.
Eve moved down the dock dodging ropes and large stacks of supplies being carted about by camp workers who were assigned to the port. Thin, brittle humans moved about the deck in groups, supervised by the security agents who stood with their guns at the ready. The sight sickened her.
There was nothing to be done. Nothing she could do to help these people. They were casualties of war, their names a tiny drop in an overflowing bucket of loss.
As she made her way onto a boat, Eve moved to the stern and sat next to a pile of crates. When she was settled, she opened her bag and searched the contents until her warm fingers came in contact with the cool steel of her blade. She ran a finger along the sharp edge, pressing just hard enough to feel pain without breaking the skin.
She needed to remember the pain. The pain those prisoners felt. The pain her father felt. She carefully slipped the knife out of the bag, the sun illuminating the words intricately carved into the metal handle of her father’s knife. She traced the loops and curls of cursive, something she had done countless times since his death.
“Harris Andrews.” It was barely a whisper.
***
The chancellor stood in front of the waterfall that cascaded down the side of the concrete and into a large man-made pool below. On the walls, green vines hung like tapestries, while soft moss carpeted the entire floor of her office.
The rebels were beginning to turn the tide of the war. Everyday new intel came into the capital of major supply centers that had been targeted and destroyed. The group had captured high ranking members of the capital army and successfully completed a series of tunnels that bypassed known checkpoints. Her eyes darted to the windows. They were out there right now, hiding in the shadows. Plotting.
Her fist tightened, sharp nails cutting into the paper-thin skin of her aging hands. She needed to crush them. To deal a blow so devastating they would never be able to bounce back.
A click at her office door pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to find her head of security moving into the office with a stack of folders.
“Place it on the table and leave” she growled.
Once he was gone, she tore open the folders and scanned the thick packet of papers that held the names of the capital soldiers who had fallen and the locations of warehouses that had been hit in the last 24 hours. She let the causality list fall to the floor and instead focused on the names of the high value spots that were raided.
She crumpled the sheets between her hands and threw them onto the floor, a loud scream erupting from her mouth. “God, damn it!” she yelled.
“I’m sorry that your plans are failing…”
Vie spun around at the sound of the soft words spoken behind her, her body suddenly freezing in place as her eyes fell upon the ghost of her daughter. A daughter who was supposed to be dead.
“You figured you took care of this problem,” Eve said louder, as she pointed to herself. Vie stared back, her confusion visible. Eve continued, “Unfortunately for you I am very much alive.”
“How is this possible, you’re dead,” Vie stuttered, the last remaining color draining from her face.
“You chose someone to kill me, but little did you know you chose someone that still had a heart. Still had a conscience.” Eve took a step closer to her mother’s rigid frame. “Someone who could never justify killing a young girl.”
Realization dawned on her mother’s face. “No, it’s not possible,” she cried. “He is my captain; his loyalty is unwavering.”
“Oh, he was loyal,” Eve spit out the words, as thoughts of her time in captivity came flooding in. “In the beginning... But in the end, he was more loyal to his conscience.”
Eve stepped closer. “You tried to get rid of me, the same way you got rid of my father.” Inside her anger was boiling over. “You didn’t want any of us alive. You knew father was going to pull the plug. He was going to try and fix what you both had done.”
Vie stumbled backwards as her daughter advanced. In Eve's small hand sat the knife she had promised herself she would use to rid the world of her mother’s cruelty. Vie’s eyes widened as she looked down at Eve’s clenched fist.
“This was father’s knife.” Her eyes glanced down at the blade in her hand. She flexed her fingers feeling cool metal against her sweaty palm.
“Eve, this is your inheritance. This is in your blood. The Andrews blood that runs through your veins.”
Eve knew there was no use in discussion. No use in hearing her mother’s lies or trying to change her mind.
She moved forward with purpose pushing her mother further back until she was pressed against the glass of the massive floor to ceiling windows.
“You can either jump,” Eve looked towards the window, then she lifted her hand and pointed the blade at her mother’s throat, “or I can gut you. Bleed you out as you have our land, our people.”
Her heart ached as she thought about her beloved forest friends that she had spent her childhood watching. The ones that were slaughtered. Inside her chest, her heart pounded against her ribcage as images quickly flashed in her mind.
Friends, family...they were all gone.
Eve took one last look at her mother, the defiant tilt of her head and the cold sneer on her aging face made everything easier.
“Dad didn’t get the chance to stop you, but I will.” Suddenly, Eve’s arm shot forward, her knife penetrating the delicate skin of her mother’s neck.
As blood poured from the wound her mother’s face grew pale, her cold hard gaze quickly melting away to a set of lifeless eyes. Within seconds her mother’s body fell to the floor, her white hair splatter with blood.
Eve immediately turned, no hesitation, no sudden feeling of regret.
“It’s done,” she whispered, as she wiped the blade on her pant leg.
As she walked from the room, she moved towards her bag that she’d hidden in the shadows. She bent down, pulling the burned phone from the front pocket and powered it on. When the screen was lit up, she flipped the phone open and dialed the number she memorized.
It rang for several seconds before the line connected and she heard the deep vibration of her captain as he answered.
“Go ahead,” he said
Taking several steadying breaths, she finally spoke, her voice strong, her message filled with purpose.
“Friends, we have fought long and hard for this. For a chance to end the suffering. A chance to fix our mistakes and hold those who willingly lied to us accountable. That day has finally arrived. The chancellor is dead.”
Silence.
With that she closed the phone and slippe
d it into her pocket. A single tear formed as she glanced back at the still form of the woman who had given birth to her all those years ago. The woman who had condemned her father to death and stolen everything from generations and generations of people who would long feel the effects of her assault. With that she turned and left, leaving behind her anger and hatred and instead moving towards a future of hope.
***
Eve moved carefully through the building, peeking around corners and artfully dodging cameras that she was given advance warning about. She moved like a shadow, sliding up and down the walls as she made her way closer to the large wooden door at the end of the hall.
She slowed as she approached, her hand coming to rest on the metal handle. She didn’t walk through right away. She waited, taking several steadying breaths, as she listened to the words she had just broadcast repeated behind the door.
She slowly pushed on the handle and moved into the dark room as her words echoed louder now from a speaker in the corner.
Across from her a lone figure sat staring out into the night sky, a glass of amber liquid and a half empty bottle beside him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she took in his large muscular frame slouched back in his chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing a splattering of dark hair along his tan forearms.
He turned towards her as she moved further into the room, a mixture of anger and relief etched on his face. “So it's done,” he said carefully.
She didn't speak, only continued to stare as a heavy feeling of sadness came over her. He drained the rest of the liquid back in one motion and slammed the glass down before standing and moving towards her.
“Hunt, please…” her voice cracked as she said the words. This had been the plan all along. One he hadn’t been willing to go along with but now as she stood in front of him, she knew more so than ever that this was meant to be.
“You are the reason we’ve been successful. You've given us the information. You've given us codes and access…”
Once Upon A Dystopia: An Anthology of Twisted Fairy Tales and Fractured Folklore Page 9
