by SF Benson
Another spider appears, closer than the last one.
“What sick game are you playing?” I ask, keeping an eye on the twin spiders hurrying toward me.
“Maybe it’s a game. Maybe it isn’t. See you in an hour,” he says, a grin of amusement on his mouth.
Is he serious? Quickly, I stomp on the spiders.
I stand, scrunching myself into a corner. It’s a mind game. I’m stronger than this. Just breathe.
A monotone voice announces, “And so it begins. Ten… Nine… Eight…”
Breathe. In. Out. In.
A blood-curdling scream punctuates the air.
My eyes scan the room, looking for more spiders.
Focus. Don’t give in.
The ear-piercing guitar riffs disrupt my ability to focus. I can do this. I have to do this.
Something dark catches my eye. My breath stalls. Tendrils of terror curl into my stomach. More eight-legged fiends appear. Brown widows. Tarantulas. Golden orbs. Big. Little. They crawl up and down the walls. Scurry across the floor. Jumping spiders hop toward me. My. Worst. Nightmare.
My skin crawls. My heart slams against my chest. I can hear the blood rushing inside my head.
I glance at my foot. Tiny, ghost-like spiders dance around my boots. I jump onto the chair.
“No, no, no, no… Get off, get off, get off!” I stomp my feet. The little monsters clamber up the legs of the chair. Tears pour down my cheeks. I gasp for air.
The gray, hairy devils soon cover the chair. I jump off and run for a corner, stomping and swatting as I move.
This isn’t real. None of it’s real.
Tiny feet scamper up my legs. “Holden! Let me out of here!”
Sweat covers my forehead. I can’t breathe. Hell, he can win this round. I run to the door and pound on it.
“Let me out! Please! Holden! Anyone…”
An hour later, I’m in my old room. The spiders are gone, but the shaking remains. I sit up and pull the ratty blanket over me. The sensation of creepy crawly things won’t go away.
The door opens, and Holden walks in. He crouches near the pallet and leans in. “Feel like talking?”
I nod. Not really. I feel like clawing the bastard’s eyes out.
“Good.” His lips curl up in a sinister grin. “The name of the person who helped you.”
Great. Something I can’t give him because I don’t know it. “I. Don’t. Know.”
“Not the answer I want. Would you like to go back to the playroom?”
Playroom? Is he fucking kidding? I shake my head.
“Then give me the name.” His cold and calculating voice fills me with dread.
“I don’t know it. I never asked,” I choke out, my eyes burning with tears. A flash of black and yellow scuttles into my periphery vision.
Holden’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Wrong answer, my dear.” He taps his ear. “She’s all yours.”
The door opens, and the two muscular mutants from earlier return. One of the goons reaches for my ankle. I kick him in the face. The other one grabs me by the waist and pulls me to my feet.
Holden barks, “Give her two hours this time.”
I twist my body side to side, trying to shrug off my captors. My feet leave the floor as someone slings me over a shoulder. I continue to kick and pound his back with my fists.
A black spot scurries into my vision, jumping and spinning and replicating itself. Nausea rolls across my stomach, and the air leaves my lungs. A trail of spiders follow us down the hall.
“Don’t fall for enemy propaganda against the New Order. Remember, the Alliance is trying to get families fighting each other.”
—A Message from Veterans of the Street Wars & the Revolution
Zared
Although I argue against it, Leon sets us up in a spare room with a couple of twin beds. Griffin falls asleep shortly after his head hits the pillow. Even a cloud in heaven wouldn’t allow me to rest. Rolling my shoulders doesn’t relieve the tension. I have an unshakeable sense something is wrong.
I step into the vacant living room, lie down near the patio door, and watch the night sky. Tru isn’t consuming all my thoughts right now. Instead, scenarios of how to extricate myself from this place bounce around my head. I’m in some deep shit. Someone needs to shoulder the blame, but who? The father who abandoned me or the mother who didn’t protect herself against the virus? Do I blame myself for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe it’s the prick who played me?
I took for granted Malcolm was a selfless artist interested in changing the world. It’s taken me too long to realize people have their own agendas and they don’t always include me. Why do I keep falling for it? Look out for thyself should be a tattoo on my forehead so I’ll have a constant reminder. The days of being someone’s pawn is over. Nothing good comes from it, only pain. I have to live my own life with Tru and away from all of this shit.
I shift to my side.
“Don’t care much for beds do ya, Zared?” Leon turns on the lamp and settles onto the sofa.
I sit up. “Nothing’s wrong with the bed. I just can’t sleep.”
“Helps if ya talk ‘bout it.” He pats a spot beside him.
The man looks safe enough, but I stay put. If I remember my bible correctly, even Lucifer appears innocent.
“I’ve a lot on my mind,” I admit. Santa’s Helper is the last person I want to share my thoughts with.
Leon sits back. “I know some of your story. Of course, I know ‘bout ya girl being arrested. Ya killed your father. Self-defense the story goes. No other family. Does that sum it up?”
“It covers the highlights,” I reply with a strained voice.
“How ‘bout filling in some details?” Leon strokes his beard. “What’s eating ya?”
Pick and choose. Don’t tell the enemy more than they need to know. “Did Griffin tell you I’ve been on my own for a long time?”
“I gathered as much. Ya seem uncomfortable indoors.”
I prop my arms on my knees, holding my head in my hands. “Having a roof over my head every night can be a little confining.”
“But ya didn’t live out there all the time.”
I lift my head. “I miss having Tru with me, that’s all.”
The big man gives me the once-over. “Feeling lonely without her, eh?”
My body tenses, and my mind cries a warning, Don’t trust him. “I’m concerned about her. I need to stop sitting around and rescue her. With the authorities—”
Leon tilts his head to one side. “Ya don’t strike me as the type who’d let someone stop you from getting what ya want.”
“I just need a plan,” I say wryly. “I won’t risk her life.”
He adjusts his position on the leather sofa. The cushions squeak underneath his large frame. “Anything worth it comes with a risk. Ya might not be able to avoid it. Do ya love her?”
“Yeah. With all my heart.” The easiest question I’ll ever answer. Tru is my world, my whole reason for living.
“Well Zared, you’ve got some decisions to make. What are ya willin’ to risk for her?”
Another easy one. I’ll gladly give my life up to spend one more minute by her side.
“I’ll tell ya something. If she were my gal, nothing would stop me from gettin’ to her. Understand?”
I press my lips together. He’s right. Tru has to be rescued sooner not later. “Thanks, Leon.”
The big man stands. “Glad to help. Now, do us all a favor and try to get some sleep. You’re no good to anyone if you’re tired.”
Point taken. I leave at daybreak.
“Synthetic meat isn’t the only thing false in this country.”
—From the Alliance Manifesto
Tru
Hours later, the soldiers dump me on the chilly floor. I press my face against the tiles, clinging to reality. The thump of the soldiers’ boots exiting the room, however, calls attention to my situation.
Remnants of the e
ight-legged horror dance in my vision. I jerk back, brushing my legs, but the spiders aren’t there. Slowly, Doctor Aoki, sitting on a chair, comes into focus.
“What is it now?” I make it over to my pallet, dropping onto it.
“Don’t you think it’s time for you to cooperate?” Her tone is ambivalent.
I push myself onto my convulsing elbows and study the woman before me. What’s her angle? At times, she seems to be on Holden’s side. Then there are times, like now, where she gives the impression of not wanting to do her job.
Figuring out her intentions isn’t paramount. Leaving this cement cage needs to be my objective. Understanding pricks through the pain in my skull. In order to escape this place, I need to play along. “What do you want me to do? Holden’s asking me for info I can’t give.”
La Mohína shifts her weight on the chair’s edge. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t. I don’t know the name of the person he’s looking for. I told him all I knew with that stupid serum. What more can I do?”
Zared’s mother ignores my question. “Dr. Pratt won’t stop until he gets an answer. The things he has in store for you won’t be pretty.”
I recall the White Room. Stay strong. Holden plays cruel, contemptible mind games. I can’t let them break me. I swat at whatever is crawling up my arm. My voice shakes, “Bring it.”
She rolls her eyes and exhales. “You think my son is coming for you? He’s moved on. I told you we’re tracking him. Earlier this evening he was on a railcar with a companion. An attractive, young woman with red hair.”
My breath hitches. No. He won’t do that to me. She tried this earlier with the blonde. None of it’s real. Well… maybe some of it. Flashes of hairy-legged monsters enter my mind.
“He loves me. I’m not worried,” I say with determination.
La Mohína crosses her legs. “I applaud your bravery. It’s nice to believe in loyalty, but my son’s no saint. There have been others. Your friend, Ko, she dated him. He doesn’t know how to stay in a relationship. He has that in common with his father.”
Shit. She knows Katsuo and my mother had an affair. Could she be telling me the truth? Zared loves me. I believe it. I do.
She starts to leave. “Think hard about what I said. Save yourself. I’m on your side. Answer Dr. Pratt’s questions.”
“If I could give him the answers, I would.” I clench my hands. Anger won’t help me. I need a way out of here. I release my fists. “Let’s say I give him what he asks for. What’s in it for me?”
She recrosses her legs and smiles. “Staying alive for one, but tell me what you’d like.”
I sag against the wall. “Out of this room for starters. A shower, change of clothes, and food. Just the basics.”
“Done.” She leans forward. “Where’s the card?”
“I can only tell you I left it at the Ubernet café. Eden came in before I disposed of it.”
“The place has been searched. Who did you give it to?” she asks gently.
“No one. I left it in the computer. I didn’t have time to retrieve it. Maybe Eden did, or maybe whoever owns the place took it. Did your soldiers check the computer in the back? It’s the one I used.”
Doctor Aoki sighs. “We’ll check it again. If it pans out, then you’ll get your privileges.”
“What if it’s not there?” I ask, rubbing at whatever’s crawling across my body.
“Then, Truly Shara Shepard, I suggest you pray for your death wish. What Dr. Pratt has in mind will make hell seem like a vacation spot.”
“Want to know how to fight the Alliance? Support the New Order. Report a Creative and earn Truth Points. Use your Points to buy the things your loved ones need.”
—A streaming message courtesy of the Riza Coalition of Defense
Zared
The first rays of sunlight peek past the shaded window waking me up. Somehow, I managed to get a few hours of sleep. Whether the rest helped me is undecided. I contemplate lying there for another few minutes when the delectable smell of bacon and fresh roasted coffee hits my nose, sending me to the kitchen.
I hear their voices before I round the corner.
“So does the boy have the card?” Leon asks.
“Yeah. Gliese fucked up and gave it to him,” Griffin says abrasively.
“No need to worry. We’ll get it back,” Leon says. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“Then what? We don’t need him once we get it.”
Plates clatter.
“That’s debatable,” Leon says. “If we keep him alive, we have a better chance of the girl coming with us. It’s a win-win. You get the card. I claim a handsome reward for turning both of them over to the AR. Besides, we need the passcode. The girl knows it.”
Griffin exhales. “I can crack the code.”
“No, ya can’t, son. There’s a fail-safe on it. Too many tries, and it will self-destruct. The girl’s important.”
“I’d rather kill him. Better than dealing with him whining about some bitch,” Griffin argues.
“No. The boy trusts too easily. It can work in our favor. He stays alive for now,” Leon says decisively. “You rein in that anger of yours. Keep up the act. If he thinks you’re just a boozer, he might slip up and say something or leave the card where we can get it.”
Damn! Flames of anger shoot through me. Should have followed my own rules. I slip back into the bedroom. Time to get the fuck out of here. I’ll take my chances and find Tru on my own. Would have been nice to have time to plot her rescue. Can’t think of that now.
The door clicks softly behind me. I quickly scan the room, and my eyes land on the backpack Griffin carried. Inside, I find a wallet, a 9 mm Ruger, ammo, and a cell phone. I pocket the cash and the ammo and put the revolver in my waistband.
“Zared,” Leon calls me from the kitchen.
Shit.
I stick my head out the door. “Be there in a bit. Wanna wash up first.”
“Everything you need is in the bathroom,” he says.
“Great. Give me a few minutes.” I close the door and pull on a hoodie. I hurry to the window, remove the screen, and climb out.
My heart drums. If those two discover I’ve slipped out… best not to think about it. I lean against the building and get my bearings. The New Detroit River is in front of me, and the Ambassador Bridge is to my right. The sound of cars and a train whistling come from the left. I edge around the side of the building, avoiding windows.
The railcar is approaching. I sprint across the parking lot toward the tracks.
Of course, luck isn’t on my side. A couple of rail cops are waiting at the station. I slow down, check my waistband, and pull the hoodie over it.
“Got your ID with you today, son?” asks a red-faced cop.
It’s the same cop from last night. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t remember me, eh?” he says.
Play dumb. “Sorry, officer. On my way to work.”
“Just make sure you get home before dark. Would hate to catch ya out after curfew.” The man turns and walks away.
I look over my shoulder, board the railcar, and take a seat in the back of the compartment. I pull out my phone and call Asher.
“It’s me, Ash,” I say quietly.
“Zared? Where are you?” he exclaims.
“On a railcar. We need to meet up.” People on board cut their eyes at me.
“No shit, dude. Where are you?”
“Sandwich District.” I look around for a destination map. “You still in town?”
“Yeah, I’m at the hospital with Ko.”
That tidbit of info calms my mind. “Where?”
“Ouellette Street.”
“I’ll find you. Stay put.” A railcar cop stops a few feet away and gestures toward my phone.
I disconnect with Asher. Getting to him won’t be easy by rail. Too risky. I get off at the next station, type in the location of the hospital in my phone, and start walking. It’ll take me longer, b
ut hopefully, I’ll blend in with the crowd.
“Restoring our country, repairing our economy, fighting the Alliance…The New Order is American!”
—A message from the United Citizens for the American Republic
Tru
I lie back, clasping my hands behind my head. It’s only a matter of time before they discover my lie. And what then? Can I endure more of Holden’s torture?
It’s bad enough I haven’t slept. Every time I close my eyes I see spiders. Spindly legs and icy chills crawl down my spine.
Maybe I can talk my way out of more torment. Holden’s lecherous looks and flirty snide comments mean he can be swayed. The question I have no answer to is how far am I willing to go in order to be with Zared again?
If I want to see his face, those kissable lips, and smoky eyes, I have to stay strong. A future with him requires my fighting for it. No matter what it takes. Zared is my world, and I’m not ready to give him up.
The door bursts open, and Holden strides across the room, barreling for me. His nostrils flare, and his neck cords. I scramble backward. My gaze darts to the guards behind him.
Holden squeezes my arm and shouts in my face, “Did you think we wouldn’t see through your stunt?” He raises his hand but stops short of striking me. He breathes heavily.
My chin trembles. I gulp down breaths to stay quiet.
His red face and bulging eyes are intimidating. Don’t cave. We stare each other down before I speak. “I told you what I knew. I’m not responsible for what happened after Eden arrested me.”
“But you are responsible for what’s about to happen.” He shoves me into the arms of the soldiers. “Twenty minutes.”
Sometimes we welcome our worse fears. This is not one of those times. I’m back in the White Room, strapped to a metal chair.
I squeeze my eyes shut and ignore where I am. Instead, I’m on a beach with Zared. It’s a perfect day—not a cloud in the sky, and the golden sand is pleasantly warm. The crashing waves are a perfect backdrop. Glasses of cold iced tea are nearby.
