“Eh, doesn’t matter,” I grab the first one my hand touches.
I flop down on my bed, trying to ignore the fact that I can hear Runa’s soft snores a few feet away. With the book clutched a little too tightly, I take in its cover. The hardbound book has faded blue edges and metallic print. The binding groans as I open it and stare at the black blobs on the brittle pages. Fifteen minutes pass and I have absolutely no idea what I’ve just read.
I throw the book aside and sit up on the edge of my bed. I grope at the soft fabric of my quilt and my eyes drift yet again to Runa. Her breathing has become labored; sweat clings to her neck and forehead.
Screw it.
I push off the bed, walk over to her, and take a seat.
Even with the puffy scabs down her face, she’s beautiful. My eyes fall to her lips, and my heart thumps loudly in my chest. They’re the perfect shape for—
Oh, this is so not good.
Runa’s lips tug downward, clearly unhappy with whatever she’s visualizing. Or perhaps she’s uncomfortable even in her sleep? I wish I could make this easier for her.
Maybe I can.
I get up and walk to the allayroom. From the small shelf in the corner, I grab a rag and soak it with cool water. The excess seeps out when I squeeze, trickling through my fingers. In a weird sort of way, it grounds me. Calms my nerves a bit.
When I get back to her bedside, I place the chilled cloth on her forehead. A sense of satisfaction sweeps through me when her frown begins to dissipate. I should have thought of this sooner. Instead, I was too busy trying to ignore the way she’s consuming my thoughts.
When Kani went through transition, Alina played music to ease the tension. I glance around the room, looking for the music player I took from the Archives, but it’s nowhere to be found.
I make my way back to the gathering room to see if I’ve left it behind. I’m about to leave empty-handed when I spot Kani’s player tucked in the chair cushions.
“Excellent,” I clutch the small device in the palm of my hand. “This’ll work fine.”
The only problem is, I need to figure out how her music player works. The music was loaded centuries ago, back before creativity gave way to technology and sterilization, so each one has a different music selection and vastly different controls. We’re lucky we figured out how they were powered and how to recharge them.
I fumble with the controls until I remember Kani’s device is meant to sense the music best suited to your mood. You can also manually adjust the songs, but I have no clue how. Kani’s used it a number of times, trying to clue in Fenton during his more oblivious moments. Never helps, though.
In my left hand, I hold the device and wait for it to analyze the chemical compounds in my skin and the impulses of my brainwaves. It flickers brightly and the room fills with a song I’ve never heard before. I suppose that’s the point. The male vocalist meshes with a myriad of instruments, and I take a moment to listen to his words. A hint of sadness hugs his tone, but something else hides in the undercurrent.
Loss. Desperation. Confusion.
Longing.
I set the device on the table between the two beds and lie back. The themes resonate with me, as I suppose it should, and as the chorus loops around, I sing along. Feels good to release some of what I feel into words. I gotta hand it to the inventor of this device—it’s good at what it does.
The song ends too soon and I reach over to find a way to replay it. I’d like to listen to it again. Instead, the music player crashes to the ground as I’m caught off guard by the two different colored eyes peering up at me.
9
Runa
SOMEWHERE IN THE DISTANCE, a voice beckons me. A real, honest-to-universe voice.
Masculine, magnetic.
I’ve been sitting here for so long. I’d like to follow the voice, but I don’t. Not yet.
My lotus chair hugs my legs, and if I get up now, I may fall over. My quiet space is barren, as the Helix prefers. Yet, on my windowsill sits the mesmerizing blue crystal I found in the woods days ago. It pulses with an odd energy, glowing. I’ve stared so long, the rough edges of its shape are embedded in my memory.
An image flashes in my mind, disrupting my concentration.
My mother’s forlorn face warns me she’s entering the Living Quarters. The exchange opens up to my brother Baxten and I as my mother’s thoughts intrude upon my own.
~ I’ll be in my space.
She’s brief, as always.
I sigh, wishing for once she’d come down here to find out how my day was. She’d never believe me if I told her I’d tried to escape the Helix—and if she did, she wouldn’t care.
Baxten’s smiling face flashes in my mind next.
~ That was quick. Are you going to tell her what you found today?
Inwardly, I cringe. I can’t stand the thought of making it real.
I push my thought back to him over the eLink.
~ Not yet.
Without meaning to, I begin thinking of the woods. Of leaving the Helix once and for all.
I’ve forgotten to release my eLink connection to Baxten.
~ Runa, you know what’s waiting outside. You can’t possibly be so stupid as to think you can live in the elements alone. I know you don’t believe me, but the Morph is out there. With the way its evolutionary leap defied nature, no one can predict what it’s capable of now. You need to respect that. Besides, RationCaps aren’t hidden in the woods. Food doesn’t grow on dead trees, you know.
My eyes drift to the trees, and suddenly I’m beside them.
Electric fire rains from the sky, and my beautiful world is burning around me. The trees are shriveling and dying. Desperation fills my heavy heart, and I kneel in a pile of ashes. The air is sweltering.
“Within the ashes of the old, something new emerges. You emerged, Daughter of Five. Your time to make a difference is nearing. Your healing is nearly complete. Remember to get to the Tree of Burden with the key. You cannot fight ignorance with ignorance. Open your eyes and your heart to this new world. Funny thing about endings ... they are cleverly a beginning in disguise.”
The scene shifts. Large snowflakes descend in fluttering luminescence, and the fires from before are gone. The intense heat is now a cool steam, the sky a deep purple.
The quiet, peaceful trees are dormant in the snow-covered ground. Waiting.
The forest I remember. The forest I love.
The masculine voice is still with me, echoing through the trees like a haunting remnant of the past. Standing up, I follow the melodious pull, and it draws me outside of myself.
I’m surrounded by the rocky embrace of cavern walls.
A wonderfully cool, damp cloth rests on my forehead, and beside me, the voice still beckons. I remove the cloth and roll to my side, unsure where I am. Across the room is Traeton. He’s lying on a similar slab, his eyes closed. Words gracefully escape his lips, and I can’t look away—I’ve never heard someone use their voice in this way. He’s astonishing.
The words are powerful, and they intermix with emotive waves in other sounds. Ones I can’t place. I’m not even sure where they come from. Abruptly, the mixture of sounds ends, as does Traeton’s voice. He rolls to the side and reaches for something on the table between us, but when our eyes meet, the device in his hand clatters to the rocky floor.
He turns scarlet and bends down quickly to retrieve it.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s ah—okay. I didn’t realize you were awake. I—I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never slept before,” I admit.
“Yeah, well really you—sorta passed out.” He scratches at the back of his blue hair. “Are you feeling any better?”
I shudder, remembering my moments in the allayroom. “Remind me to never eat Fenton’s food again.”
Traeton’s face brightens and he chuckles. “It’s not that bad.”
“So
says the non-sick one,” I reply, pointing at him playfully.
“Good point.” The deep grooves in the middle of his cheeks appears.
Silence falls between us, and Traeton’s eyes shift to the small device now on the table.
“What is that thing?” I ask. “Your voice sounded amazing.”
“Uh …” His mouth falls open as he blinks wildly.
I try to stifle a laugh, but it’s too late. Uncontrollably, my giggles burst at the seams, and for some reason, the upturn in his eyebrows only makes me laugh harder.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, a hint of a smile on his confused face.
I giggle through my fingers. “You. I mean—I’m not sure. No, no—it’s definitely you.”
“Okay ... I’m glad my singing is funny to you.”
“Singing?” Birds sing. The wind sings … But people? I struggle for air between giggles. “Well, it was amazing.”
“Oh, please,” he shakes his head, “It’s the first time I’ve heard the song. I was only singing the chorus.”
I laugh again. “What are all these crazy words you speak?”
He chuckles. “I’m not even sure anymore. What are we talking about?”
“No idea,” I chuckle.
“My guess is this would be the transition talking. You should probably drink some water.” Traeton crosses the room in three huge strides and kneels down. From a small metallic box he pulls a bottle of water and hands it to me.
I place my free hand on the slab beneath me and aim to push to a sit. Traeton’s strong arms wrap around my shoulders and he helps me the rest of the way up. My mood shifts in an instant. I should be grateful, but something in the proximity, his touch—it irritates me. I feel good—better than good, I feel normal.
“I’m not incapable.” I say, my nostrils flaring. “I can sit up on my own.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. What’s wrong with me?
Traeton’s eyes are wide, but he takes a seat next to me.
“Sorry,” I grab the container still held out for me.
“Runa, I think we need to—there’s a lot you don’t—out here, things work differently than they did in the Helix,” he begins.
“Yeah, I get that,” I snap at him, and my eyelid slams shut. I don’t even sound like myself— I sound like Kani! What is wrong with me?
He sighs and runs his fingertips across his forehead. “You might—feel a little different.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The lighthearted mood all but a distant memory, agitation sets in. I’m sick of getting the runaround.
“It means—uh, your body will be—it’s gonna—” he stammers. “You’re going to be up and down for a bit. You’re also gonna need to sleep. I’m sure you figured out we don’t do Lotus machines here. We do things the old-fashioned way.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, taking a long sip of water.
“Basically the way they did on Earth.”
“I figured.” I look to the ceiling, and he makes a face.
“Takes longer, though. Well, a lot longer. About seven and a half hours, to be exact,” he says, scratching at his temple, one eye squinting. “Unless you’re Fenton. Then, nine.”
“How often?” My voice is a growl. This is nothing to be upset over, I get that, but the idea still unearths something buried inside.
He places a crooked finger over his mouth before saying sheepishly, “Every day.”
My mouth drops open. “Wow. You’re telling me a third of my day, everyday, I’m going to be unconscious?”
“Technically, yeah. But look at it this way—without having to work sixteen hours a day, you’re actually up on free time.”
“Funny.” I flop back down on the bed and notice the thumping behind my left eye is gone.
Could the voice—be real? Could my eye really be healing so rapidly? If so, what does it mean? I look at the box of medical supplies and dismiss the thought.
“Sometimes less is more,” Traeton continues, “It won’t seem so bad once you’ve gotten used to sleeping. I just wanted you to be aware,” his voice is wary, “So, anyway, this—um—this’s where you’ll be sleeping for a bit. We thought you might—well, the bed’s more comfortable.”
“Is that what it’s called?” I say, trying to reel in my sudden anger flare. “It looks like a medical slab.”
“I could see that,” he agrees.
“It is more comfortable, though.”
“That’s … good,” he says, walking to the other side of the room and takes a seat on the other bed.
“And you’ll be …”
Traeton chews on his lower lip. “Here,” he pats the fabric beneath him.
“So, this is … your space?” I sit up and glance around again, this time paying closer attention. For some reason, understanding this is where Traeton spends a third of his day makes it more interesting.
“Yup. Well, it’s Fenton’s too.”
“Wait. What? Then this is his—I can’t kick him out—” I say, “I should go back to the bench. That’ll work fine ... It’s not right to dislodge him.” I push aside the fabric, trying to stand up.
Traeton is at the edge of my bed in an instant, and he places his hands on my shoulders. “Sit. Please, Runa. It’s okay. Fenton and Kani are going to share a bed for now. No big deal. You need to be comfortable too. Your injuries need—”
My eyes widen, and I cut him off. “They’re going to share a bed?”
This one is barely wide enough for me—how can two people rest properly?
“Yeah. They’re kind of—a long story,” he shifts to one side, “It’s just—it’s not a big deal.”
My chin begins to quiver and tears emerge. I feel completely out of control, but I can’t stop the sobs, “Poor Fenton. He shouldn’t lose his bed because of me. Or share with Kani. She’s so … so … mean!”
Traeton chuckles and tries to hide behind his hand.
“This isn’t funny!” I roar.
“Nope, it’s not. Not at all funny,” his lips take on the shape of a straight line, but his eyes are still smiling. I bury my face in my hands.
I feel so out of control.
Taking my hands in his own, Traeton kneels in front of me. “Runa, listen to me. This is all normal.” His eyes are way too empathetic and accessible.
“Normal?” I complain. “I’m so far out of my element—Nothing is normal. I feel completely clueless.”
“You’re not clueless. You’re uninformed,” he answers.
“Oh, that’s better.”
“Just the way the Helix likes it. Here’s the thing—those RationCaps do more than just meet nutritional requirements. They’ve got—” he stumbles for a moment, his eyes distant as he searches for something to say, “They’ve got hormone agents in them. Hormone-suppressing agents. What you’re going through, the mood swings you’re having right now, while they might seem strange, it’s all normal. We call it transition out here. Your body’s trying to regulate itself. You need to realize that’s all this is, and it will pass.”
“That’s all this is? What’s that supposed to mean? What I’m feeling isn’t real? How could you say such a thing?” I cry, pulling my hands from his.
“No. It’s not like that. Everything is amplified, that’s all,” he says.
“Why can’t I just be normal?” My lip quivers again, and I bite down to make it stop.
“No, you’re—” he starts.
“Look at me, Traeton—white hair, mangled eye—have you ever seen anyone who’s as strange as me? I haven’t,” I sputter. He waits until I stop talking and raises a single finger to point silently at his own head of hair. I stick out my tongue at him and continue, “Well, until I met you. But your hair’s not even actually blue, is it?”
His eyes are sympathetic, “You’re not strange.”
“I’m not, huh? You chose your hair color, and everything else about you is perfect. What if you were born like this?” I lift a strand of hair and let it fall
.
He stands up and turns away. “I understand more than you think.”
For a moment, he stands still. I watch his shoulders rise and fall slowly.
I blink furiously at his silhouette and finally say, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
Traeton turns around, his eyes now guarded. “You don’t need to be sorry. But you do need to rest. You’ll need to get your sleep cycles in line with everyone else’s. Kani and Fenton are at the Lateral checking on space. Do you need anything else? How’s your pain?”
Recognition dawns on me. He doesn’t want me to stay here with them. Tears well up again and silently fall to my lap.
“What’s wrong, Runa?” he asks.
“Nothing, I’m fine.” My cheeks are flaming as I lie down and turn away from him. I can’t let him see me like this. I need to get myself under control.
“If your pain gets worse again, let me know. In the meantime, try to rest. You’ll feel better once you do. I’m gonna shut off the light, but I’ll be right over here if you need me,”
A moment later, his bed creaks and the light is extinguished. Until now, I had no idea how dark it was down here. I can’t even locate my hand in front of my face. My whole life, I’ve never experienced this kind of emptiness.
Lying still isn’t easy, and this sleep thing is even more elusive. Being here, experiencing life outside the Helix with them is just a slap in my face at how unprepared I was when I ran out. I roll to my back and stare into the black abyss.
Baxten was right. I wouldn’t last a day on my own. I hadn’t even considered I may need sleep. He probably already assumes I’m not coming back. Mother probably hasn’t even noticed I’m missing. Grief surfaces and compounds with everything else as the cool, stinging tears puddle on the fabric beneath me. Even now, her lack of empathy or care has the power to wound me, I hate it.
Only a few feet away, Traeton’s breath is rhythmic. I roll over again. I’d love to go out into the woods for a little while, clear my head. The voice said I need to go back to the tree anyway. But more than that, somewhere in my core, I’m drawn back to where my old life was ripped from me. I need to come to terms with it in order to accept a new future.
The Complete Pendomus Chronicles Trilogy: Books 1-3 of the Pendomus Chronicles Dystopian Scifi Boxed Set Series Page 8
