by Alex Fall
"Following strangers gets you into bad situations," I said into his ear from behind at the same time I put the knife to his throat.
"Bed stitches?" He asked.
"Bad situations! I know it's hard, but don't be stupid."
He turned enough to look at me out the corner of his eye, then put his hand to his ear as if to say, 'I can't hear you.' We slowly and inconspicuously stepped into a side tunnel. No sooner did we step out of view, he plucked the knife away from my hands and tossed it down the tunnel. My fingers hurt from the weapon being prayed away, a telltale sign that I was dealing with a Brute.
"No time for games. Do you know who I am?" He asked.
"A *cussing* *cuss* *cuss*?" I replied.
His eye twitched. I can tell he's prideful. I can tell he doesn't like being insulted. "I'm your next opponent. I would tell you my name, but you don't deserve it."
"Same to you."
"I know your name, Sapphire Eyes."
I laughed sarcastically. "You really think it's sapphire eyes? If you fight as stupidly as you talk, I might have to tie an arm behind my back to even the odds of the match."
The man clenched his teeth behind his closed lips. "I was following you to see how smart you were, and I was going to talk to you to decide if I want to end you or not. I think I found my answer..."
Death glare. "If you want to scare me, then prove you're even capable of killing me, and hurry it up cause I'm not in a good mood right now."
The tension between our eyes grew, but before I won, a teenage girl rounded the corner holding a small tray, a Dweller girl.
"Mr. Howie?" She inquired.
"What do you want, moindre?" He growled.
"Your drinks, sir," she replied in a shaky voice, now much more afraid of this man.
"Howie?" I asked in a way that was halfway poking fun.
He glanced at me, then peered at the Dweller girl. "We're not so different, Sapphire Eyes. I hear we both have Lesser servants. But I think you should take a lesson from mine."
My anger woke up when he said that, but his next actions set me ablaze. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward, which caused her to squeal and drop the tray. I noted bruises under her long sleeves, no doubt from previous...encounters. He licked the side of her neck and cheek then smacked his lips in an exaggerated way. The girl bore every sign that said she hated what was happening to her, but made no attempts to resist.
"See? Submissive and quiet. My lesser can teach you how a lady should act if you'd like."
I made no reply. My death stare said it all. He suddenly swung her to the side, into some pipes that ran along one wall of the tunnel. She hit the thin pipes and collapsed on all fours, clenching her teeth in pain and holding her side where she hit, but didn't dare make a sound.
"Where's that drink I asked for? You've got twenty seconds!" Howie barked.
I gripped Howie’s thin shirt and shoved him into the wall. The only reason I can think of that I was able to do so was because he wasn't expecting it, but I was too angry to care. Once he turned his attention to me, a strong hand gripped my throat. The Dweller girl picked herself up despite the pain and hurried to fulfill her task.
“We don't have to wait till tomorrow to fight,” Howie warned.
I lit my hands up enough to burn off the parts of his shirt I was holding onto and leaving little flames to grow on his clothes. He quickly released me to pat it off. “Careful. I'm not bound by a no powers rule out here,” I retorted. I noted several gangers peeking down the hall.
"See you at the match tomorrow Sapphire Eyes," he said out of the blue. With that he returned to the dance floor.
"Sleep with one eye open Howie. Else you'll wake up with missing limbs..." I warned. He waved a hand to dismiss me as he disappeared.
As soon as I returned to my room and shut the door, I turned and punched the wall out of frustration. Sharon was sitting on the ground with the laptop and a very fearful look in her eyes. I stared for a moment at the cracked wall before letting out a sigh and falling onto my bed. Sleep meds. I need sleep meds now.
After downing half a dozen, I noticed Sharon still staring at me and keeping her distance. We made eye contact, and she looked to the floor immediately. That other girl stared at the ground like that too...
"Why do you always look down when I look at you?" Oh wow, I sound mad. I have to get that under control.
"I don't know..."
"Is it because you were a servant?"
"....I don't know."
"What would they do to you if you looked at the Greaters?"
She stayed quiet and shrugged.
"*Cuss* it, Sharon! Give me a straight answer!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"Why do you always say that?!"
"I'm sorry, I don't know!"
"Sharon!" I held my hands up in frustration and bit my tongue, literally. When I yelled her name, she snapped to attention like she wanted to get up and run away. I breathed out slowly through my nose and rubbed my temples. Not feeling so good right now...
"It's not you, Sharon," I said, now in a much calmer voice. "Today's not a good day for me. I'll try to be more...normal."
She looked at me to check if I was being honest, but looked back down at the closed laptop in her lap.
"The day I met you, I saw bruises on your back. What was that from?"
She looked off to the side slightly. She didn't seem to want to answer. I kept up the silence, never breaking my eye contact with her. After a moment, she glanced up to see if I still wanted an answer.
"Not cleaning everything," she said in a very low voice.
"Did you ever run away?"
She nodded slightly.
"And what happened?"
"They...beat me...and starved me."
Anger. What kind of system is this? I find it hard to believe that people would allow themselves to be like this. The Decapolis would never...
Well, the Decapolis did create me...at the expense of hundreds of other programs' lives. But they're different now, no Directorates to lead the horrors. The people are better, so unlike this place...aren't they?
This system is so broken. It's so stressing and infuriating. Why am I even here?
The sound of typing broke my concentration. Sharon seemed to want to get away from that conversation anyhow, and the first chance she got, she resumed typing.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
Sharon froze. "Typing..."
"Typing what?"
"...nothing."
"Doesn't sound like nothing."
She closed the laptop. "It's nothing."
"Then you won't mind if I take a look." I reached over and plucked the computer, but Sharon was visibly nervous. When I opened it up, I found not a game, but a word document.
"Flower of the Flame:
There sits a field scorched and dead,
Lonely, lifeless, it brings tears to my head.
But look, among the death, stands a bloom. Where did it come from? How long has it been here? How did it escape the doom?
It's a simple plant, just a weed; crushed, trampled, and weak, its future seemingly bleak, starving for the care it needs.
Even still it musters a bloom of purest blue, a gleam of hope among the colorless hue, like a lighthouse holding true, to ward the danger away from you.
The ants come and munch on it, the birds come and peck at it, the worms come and lunch on it, and the caterpillars cause a wreck. But the bees get a meal, and the ladybugs get a home, and the moss gets shelter, and the seedlings aren't alone. This plant will never die, it seems.
So because of one flower, many things live, and regardless of how it looks, it has much to give. What am I, that I need this flower too?"
A poem...Sharon wrote this?
"Since when do you write poetry?" I asked after reading it.
She shrugged and looked to the side.
I scanned over the poem again. Flower of the flame?
"What is t
his about?"
Sharon looked up at me, but then back at the ground. I'm guessing that means me? I handed the computer back to her and laid back down. My mood was simmering down, so soon I would train and be ready for tomorrow.
On top of everything, I miss my home.
Part 13
I awoke in a room, small and slightly cluttered. I'm not in Ilavoan.
Fake Arty was laid out on an unmade bed, with his arm over his eyes. I sat up on a small black couch, just big enough to sleep on. The room was darkened, but I could still see pretty clearly. This room we were in was actually a relatively small bedroom, and based on the feel of my surroundings, I guessed it was a small part of a bigger apartment. We were high up in the building, overlooking a grungy city, based on what little peeked through the curtains. Sweet, gentle melodies played on very low volume, emanating from the digital speaker that was mixed in with papers, notebooks, and random things on a small desk.
"Where are we this time?" I asked.
Fake Arty just groaned. This is new...
"Is this supposed to be where you lived before you found me? Arty, I mean..."
"No."
I got up and looked through the curtains. It was drizzling outside. "I think I liked Ilavoan better."
Silence.
I examined the Fake. He wasn't making much movement. I got the feeling he was supposed to be in pain, and that he seemed liked something was weighing heavily on his mind. He wasn't even smiling.
"How am I supposed to interpret this dream?" I asked, standing over him.
"Just a dream. No grand meaning."
"So if I ask you what's wrong, you wouldn't give me some deep, soul searching answer as a representative of my inner self?"
He cracked a smile and shifted his arm to look at me with one eye. "Not this time."
I moved over to the speaker and skipped tracks. A quiet tune came on, a mixture of strings and bells, or possibly chimes. I'm not sure which.
"You've lost focus," he mumbled quite out of nowhere.
"Excuse me?"
"It's not like you to stay in an area with people you hate. Why don't you leave?"
"Are you talking about the Feeders?"
Fake Arty nodded.
"Kinda need to heal. Plus they're not going to let me leave."
"Since when has that ever stopped you?"
Botches...he's right.
"Erin. May I?" Fake Arty was holding out a hand to me.
"May you what?"
"Touch you."
I turned and squared myself against him. "Absolutely not!"
"Not provocatively. Just your hair."
"No!" I shouted.
"Erin...you're a powerful person. You could pretty easily keep a person from ever touching you. Because of that, it means a lot more to me when you let me do something for you. It means you trust me."
"I do not trust you."
Fake Arty didn't respond. He just lowered his arm and stared at me longingly.
"Don't look at me like that."
"I won't hurt you. I never have."
"Except when you brain stabbed me in my memories."
"I wouldn't have done that if I knew it would hurt. And aren't you happy to remember your mom?"
I stayed silent this time. I didn't want to say yes because he'd use it as ammo. But if I say no...it would just feel so wrong.
"Where's that innocent girl you fight so hard to hide?" He asked.
I looked away, because I could begin to feel the effect of his pleading eyes. To my dismay, I looked right at a mirror. I saw my hideous form in it, so I looked to the ground next. Now I feel weak.
"Fine..." I whispered. I shuffled over to his bed and sat at the foot. I watched him sit up and smile a genuine warm smile.
"There you are. There's the sweet, beautiful Erin," he whispered back.
"Shut up."
His fingers mixed in and tangled with my hair as he played with it. I would never let anyone do this in real life. It felt utterly ridiculous...at least, at first it did. As it went on, he started making the movements more deliberate, more massage like. My head tingled and my eyes shut on their own. After a moment, it even began to feel soothing. I would almost go so far as to say that it felt good...but I would never say such things.
"Erin..." His arms gently scooped me into an embrace. "Please be careful today."
Shrugging his arms off, I turned to look at him. "What has gotten into you?"
"Take care of Sharon, and get out of that place, please..."
We watched each other's eyes. At first, I was irritated, but his eyes dripped with sincerity. This feels mushy. I looked out the window to break the feeling. What am I missing? What is my mind trying to tell me?
He reached over and put his hand under my chin to bring my head around and meet my eyes again.
"You're going to wake up now."
My eyes popped open in my little room with Sharon still asleep on the floor. I replayed the dream in my mind, trying to make sense of it. At the very least, one thing is true: I've lost focus.
We're getting out of this place today.
"Sharon, wake up."
I hopped out of bed and began gathering my stuff up as she stirred and moaned. Of note, there was no charger for my GPS.
"Sharon, come on."
She sat up, ready to obey orders but still groggy. She still acts like a servant...
"I need you to take my pack to the second upper room off the fight ring hall. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
She shook her head no.
"Okay, well I guess I'll have to show you. Gather up your stuff and get whatever food you want. We're leaving today."
Sharon's face changed from tired to surprised. "We are? When?"
"After my fight. You're going to have to find a place to stay safe though."
"Are you going to kill someone?..."
That question again. I paused and looked at her for a second. Doesn't she ask that when she's scared?
"Maybe," I replied. "We'll see how it goes. Hurry up."
Oranges. I need oranges. I peeled and ate one of the two remaining fruits in the bag, then squeezed as much of the oil from the peel onto my pack as I could. The intense citrus smell burned my nostrils and made me tear up a tad, but I kind of liked the sensation. Once everything was in order, we gathered up some blankets and pillows and headed out.
We passed by the fight hall and people were already beginning to loiter. Some eyed me warily, some wished me luck on the fight, but all of them I ignored and passed by. By the outer edge of the seating, there was a connecting foyer that led to two small rooms on either side. The left one was used for some kind of storage, so I had Sharon hide my stuff there while I went to go gather food.
"What do you need all this food for again?" A bartender asked.
I eyed him as if to say, "how dare you question me."
"That's a good question actually," the storehouse worker said. I returned him a glare.
"Because when I'm all beat to mush afterward, I don't feel like moving too much. Give me the food so I can have it on hand."
The bartender let out a 'whatever,' and went back to his menial duties. The storehouse worker, however, continued to stand his ground.
"I don't think you can even eat that much."
"Look, do I have practice my pressure point strikes on you?" I blurted.
"Fine. But don't be surprised if the boss finds out about this." He eyed to see if that would deter me, but then complied.
I gathered up the food and made a simple breakfast for me and Sharon. After taking a couple sleep pills to be on my game for the fight, I rose to get the last few details in place.
At last, the time arrived for the fight to begin. I was already stretched and conditioned, ready to fight. The guards came and escorted me in the back area, while the announcer began to introduce my opponent.
"He's back again, the well known Howie Lopez!"
He entered the ring, dressed in standard fi
ghting attire, tall, fit, but not very bulky. He smiled a devious smile, posing for a loose few in the crowd.
"And to make things intense and interesting, our contender today is the infamous Sapphire Eyes!"
I jumped into the stage with gusto, wearing some gray sweatpants, fitted black sleeveless shirt, and simple wraps. The announcer referee stared in surprise at me.
"What do you think you're doing? What are you wearing?" He asked in a low voice.
"Whatever I want to. Don't worry, I'll still make an impression," I replied before shoving him away.
"Don't worry about the rules, ref. We got it covered," Howie told the referee.
He gave us a doubtful look, but stepped out of the way. The air horn went off and we both took up aggressive stances. Let's see, he has a wide stance, meaning he-
"Kee-ya!" He yelled as he launched himself toward me. His fist met the floor mat as I jumped back to dodge. So that's how it is.
I weaved around his next punch and threw two of my own at him. He blocked both, so I slammed my heel into his foot, then snap kicked at his crotch. To my dismay, he caught my leg.
"That's going to cost you," he growled.
I was yanked forward into his fist, filling my vision with sparkles and color. He then gripped my shirt, swung me over his head and onto the floor on his other side, then kicked me in the gut. I flew across the ring and skidded on the floor until I was near the ropes.
Can't... Breathe...
My vision returned, but my ribs screamed at me. The wind was completely knocked out of me, blood dripped out of one nostril, and my muscles spasmed for a moment. It's been only a few seconds and this took a terrible turn. I'm going to be so bruised. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Howie advancing slowly. Those powerful hits might have been nothing to him. For all I know, he's pulling his punches. He probably IS pulling his punches.
My chest finally released and I gasped. Crawling to hands and knees, I turned to snort the blood from my nose and examine the crowd just beyond the ropes. Most were impressed by the violence. Some looked to me with disdain, others with petty hope (no doubt because they had bet on me.) But quite near the front, I saw that girl, Howie's Dweller toy. She wore fresh bruises and even a cut, she stayed completely quiet and still, but she didn't seem detached like the other Dwellers I occasionally see in the crowd. She was looking very solemnly at me. Was she looking at me in disgust? No, it’s not a disdainful look. It looked more...hopeful. Not the false hope of bets, but sincere hope.
