01

by Unknown

  “What’s the problem exactly?” Keira asked, finally looking up to meet my mother’s gaze. “They’re just children.”

  “Well, it’s an outrage, that’s what it is. All your hard work with the committee, gone.”

  “But they’re still receiving funding from us too, so I don’t understand what…”

  “It can’t be allowed,” my father cut in. His voice deep and steady.

  We all turned to look at him, and he continued, “If Working Class children receive the same privileges as the Elite, they’ll expect more than is available. Competition will skyrocket and as the children mature into able bodied adults, Working Class citizens will begin to take on Elite jobs, leaving Working Class positions unfilled. It cannot be allowed,”

  he repeated.

  “Can you imagine?” It was my mother again. “The Working Class and the Elite working side by side.”

  I looked at Keira, and she stared at me.

  Somehow we made it through the rest of dinner. Keira took my hand even before Eberhardt started the engine. “Please say you’re coming over tonight,” she pleaded.

  “Better not. I have an early morning meeting tomorrow. Turn around.” I nudged her gently. As the car began to move down the drive, I squeezed her shoulders, gently at first, then increased the pressure. I worked my way down her back. “Better?”

  She leaned her head first to one side and then to the other. “Yes, thank you. How often will we have to dine with them?”

  “They’ll expect it frequently, I’m afraid. Probably about once per week.”

  “Kill me now.” Keira’s voice was deadpan.

  -Keira-

  Alliance

  “Would you like a drink?” I asked as I closed and locked the door.

  Aimee was on the couch, in her pink pajamas. She peered over the top of an art magazine. “No thanks, but I’ll sit with you while you have one.”

  I decided to change into something more comfortable first, so I went to my room and pulled on dark grey sweatpants and a white tank top. Returning to the kitchen, I reached for a bottle of wine and retrieved a glass from the cupboard. Then I thought better of it and returned the glass. Two sets of dishes rested in the rack next to the sink, along with two wine glasses.

  I returned to the living room and sat down with my bottle of wine. “Brody?” I inquired, lifting the bottle to my lips.

  “Yes, we had a nice dinner. How was yours?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  She stared at the bottle in my hand. “That bad, huh?”

  I nodded. “Aimee?”

  “Yes?” She closed the magazine and set it on the coffee table.

  “You know you can have guests over. Right?”

  “I know. I did.”

  “I mean, Brody can stay.”

  “Maybe I don’t want him to.” Aimee looked out the window.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Why not?” I repeated. “You’re my sister! My best friend! If you can’t talk with me then…”

  “I can,” she interrupted. “Just not about that, not with you.”

  “But.”

  “Enough!” She stood, and I could see she was shaking. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  As she brushed past me, I tried to take her hand but only succeeded in grabbing the sleeve of her pink pajamas. She pulled away. Moments later, her door closed with an audible click as the latch fell into place.

  I got up and turned off the lights before moving closer to the window. Gazing at the stars, I tried to clear my troubled mind. A year ago, on vacation at the Falls, Guy had pointed out various constellations. I tried to find them now, but it was no use. I set the empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch. The stars became blurry, and I reached up to wipe away my tears. Lying back against a pillow, still searching the glittering nighttime sky, I fell asleep.

  My eyes snapped open. A silhouette in the darkness moved toward Aimee’s room. I squinted. It wasn’t her, didn’t move like her. Had I set the alarm? I couldn’t remember. Freelancer!

  He was almost there. I rolled off the sofa and reached for the empty wine bottle, the only weapon close at hand. Staying low, I moved through the darkness like a cat tailing a mouse.

  He was in her room now. I had to move fast, be unexpected. I lunged with my arm held high. The bottle swooped down and collided perfectly with the intruder’s head. The man grunted softly and slumped to the ground. I dropped the bottle next to him.

  “Who’s there?” Aimee bolted upright in bed.

  “Get the light, will you?”

  We blinked in the sudden brilliance, and I rolled the man onto his back. His black clothes and long black hair stood out against the cream colored carpeting of the bedroom.

  “Bring the straight backed chair from the living room, the one with arms.” I checked for a pulse. He was alive.

  Aimee arrived with the chair.

  “Help me lift him.”

  Once he was seated, I put him in a neck hold. It kept him from sliding down and ensured that I would have the upper hand if he came to before we had a chance to secure him.

  Meanwhile, Aimee went to my room for some rope I had stored in the closet. Working together, we bound the intruder’s wrists and ankles to the chair. I used the last length of rope to pull his chest against the back of it, propping him in an upright position. His head lolled forward, and his long black hair slipped down over his face.

  I looked at Aimee. “Go make sure the alarm is set. I’ll try to wake him up.” I slapped at his face a bit. It didn’t work.

  Aimee returned with my transceiver. “Should I call Eberhardt?”

  “No, he’s staying at his other place tonight. Guy needs him early. We won’t bother them with this, not unless we have to.”

  I sat on the floor and leaned against the bed. Aimee did the same. Floral sheets and a pink blanket slipped down behind us. I pulled the blanket around my shoulders.

  “Who do you suppose he is?” Aimee asked.

  I shrugged. “No idea.”

  “So this is what you do?”

  “Some of the time.”

  “I like my job better.” She rested her head on my shoulder.

  We waited in silence. Eventually, the man’s eyes fluttered open. They were an inquis-itive blue, not dark with anger like I’d expected.

  He looked from Aimee to me and then spoke. “You’re Kendra James?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Kendra James doesn’t exist.”

  “But I’m right here.” I smiled.

  “No one in Vanover knows who you are.”

  “Someone sent you all the way to Vanover? Who?”

  He closed his eyes, and his head rolled to one side.

  Aimee pushed off the ground and moved forward. She lightly brushed some hair away from his face. “He’s out again. I think you really hurt him.”

  “Why don’t you get him some water?”

  While Aimee went in search of a glass, I went to the bathroom and returned with a cold wet cloth. I pressed it against the back of the man’s head and neck. A small lump had already begun to form on the back of his skull. Aimee returned and set a glass of water on the dresser.

  When the intruder came to once again, he looked at us in confusion and said, “You hit me!”

  I tossed the green washcloth to the floor. It landed next to the wine bottle.

  “You’re here to kill us, aren’t you?”

  He smiled. “No, I’m here for tea.”

  I raised my eyebrows but otherwise did not respond.

  “I’ll just wait until they arrive,” he said.

  Aimee and I looked at each other in surprise. I asked, “Who are you expecting?”

  “Whoever you called to take me away.”

  “And you’re not worried? Your employer must be influential.”

  “Maybe I’m just a man who shows no fear.” />
  “I doubt it. Everyone shows fear.” I grinned at Aimee on my way out the door. “Give the man some water. I’ll be right back.”

  I located my Resistance pendant and put it on. Then I found my favorite dagger, the shiny silver one.

  I returned and moved behind the stranger. Aimee once again sat against the bed. The water glass was empty. I grasped the stranger’s long black hair, pulled his head back and slowly lowered the dagger to his throat.

  Aimee gasped.

  “Who said we called anyone?”

  The man held still, but his eyes widened. “You’re not Kendra James.”

  “Who are you working for?” I asked.

  “I don’t reveal sources.”

  “And I’ve been known to kill intruders.” I pressed the dagger against his throat. A thin red line of blood appeared.

  Aimee whimpered. “Don’t. Please don’t. Not again.”

  “Who?” I whispered into the man’s ear.

  He flinched. “Adira Armstrong.”

  I pulled the dagger away and stepped back. I looked at Aimee. “Doesn’t surprise me.

  You?”

  She shook her head and pulled her knees up to her chest. Before resting her chin on them, she murmured, “She is such a bitch.”

  The stranger chuckled. “That she is.”

  I moved around to face him, and he let out a low whistle. “The Resistance, huh? How do I join?” He was staring at my pendant.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You want in?”

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “What’s your name?”

  He flipped his hair out of his eyes. “Viktor.”

  “You’re not from around here, Viktor.”

  “Nope. I’m from New London.”

  “Nice city. What’s your connection to Adira?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “No connection exactly. She was willing to pay.”

  “And why should we trust you?”

  He looked pointedly at me. “Because Freelancers don’t turn on each other.”

  “Not usually, but there are exceptions.” I thought about the attack at Brody’s while I studied the man in front of me. I shook my head. “You’ll have to give me more.”

  He paused for a moment and then said, “I know the family, sort of. They’ve hired me before, and although it’s been a fun ride, I prefer to play for the winning team.”

  I didn’t respond. Neither did Aimee.

  Eventually Viktor continued. “Word on the street is that big changes are underway. Ru-mor is Guy Bensen and Keira Maddock will lead us to victory. Isn’t that right…Keira?”

  I thought about my recent conversation with Guy. Could Viktor be an asset to the cause? We could use support in other communities, and New London would certainly be a good place to start.

  “Why should I let you go?”

  “I have connections, a lot of connections.”

  “What will you tell Adira?”

  He shrugged again. “Why should I tell her anything? Let the bitch squirm.”

  I looked at my sister and nodded. “Now you can call Eberhardt. Our guest is going to need a ride home.”

  -Aimee-

  Secrets Revealed

  “Come here and read this,” Mr. Beckett orders.

  He’s pointing to a piece of paper. What is this all about? I reach across the desk for the paper, but he gently rests his fingers upon it and indicates that I’m to come around and stand next to him. As I move closer, my fingers trail along the richly polished desktop. I take a deep breath and look down at the paper. What could be so important? I turn and look into his stormy grey eyes. He tilts his head toward the paper and smiles.

  He’s obviously not going to let me pick it up, so I lean down to get a closer look. It describes everything he’s going to do. My eyes widen, and he chuckles. His hand is no longer on the paper. It’s behind me now, touching, probing. Warm fingers against my skin.

  I gulp. “Please don’t.”

  “Oh yes, plead some more.”

  He’s standing behind me now, pressing against me, forcing his way into places he has no right to be. Tears stream down my face. I scream. It only urges him on. Nothing will make it stop.

  ***

  I made it to the bathroom just in time. This nightmare caused me to lose my dinner. I shook my head to clear the images and moved to the sink. Taking a shaky breath, I tried to regain a sense of calm. I picked up my toothbrush.

  Guy was staying over again. It was the third time this week. The noises were getting to me, playing with my head.

  I turned off the bathroom light and made my way back to the living room. Where is it?

  I thought she left it on the coffee table. There! I picked up Keira’s transceiver and walked over to the window. The only light, a crescent moon, low on the horizon. I stepped back and let the darkness surrounded me like a warm blanket.

  “Hello?”

  “Brody, it’s me.”

  “Are you alright?” He sounded a little confused and slightly alarmed. Maybe this had been a mistake.

  “Yes…no…” I looked at the clock. It was just after 2 A.M. “You said I could call any-time. Did you mean that?”

  “Of course.” It sounded like he was sitting up, stretching maybe. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, I just…could you come over and pick me up? I can’t sleep,” I finished lamely.

  ***

  As I exited the building, I tried to become one with the night by pressing my back against the smooth bricks of the apartment complex. The cool temperature seeped through my thin spring jacket and caused me to shiver.

  I watched in silence as Brody’s black convertible pulled up to the curb, quiet, wraith-like. I picked up my small bag and hurried to the vehicle. I’d left a note on the dining table.

  It simply told Keira that I would see her later at Art Fantastique.

  The roof was up, and I felt safer within the enclosed space. I leaned my forehead against the passenger side window and watched the city sleep. Even the homeless were mo-tionless grey mounds in doorways. I turned to look at Brody. He noticed and smiled. He’d come to get me, no questions asked.

  When we arrived at the gallery, I let us in, locked the door behind us and reset the alarm. I motioned for Brody to follow me into the windowless back room. Once the door was shut, I tuned on the lights. We both blinked in the sudden brightness.

  I laughed a little and took his hand. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

  Brody nodded, but he wasn’t seeing me. He was looking over my shoulder, studying something.

  “Aimee, why did you bring me here?” he said, his voice tense.

  I turned to see what he was looking at. It was the portrait of Hisoka. I dropped Brody’s hand and hurriedly threw a drop cloth over the sketch.

  “That was just an art lesson. It doesn’t mean anything,” I said.

  “Doesn’t it?” He was looking at me now.

  I shook my head. “No, but this one does.” I directed his attention to the painting of the three apple trees. “This is us,” I said quietly. “My brother, my sister and me.”

  “I know this place…”

  “Yes.”

  “Our lunch date?”

  I nodded. “Our first date.”

  He studied the painting for a few minutes. He leaned in close and then backed away.

  “They’ll never find you. The wanted posters are all wrong.”

  “Yes, well…Keira knows people who are good at tampering with that sort of thing.”

  “Why am I there?” He pointed to the figure in shadow.

  “I didn’t really know at first, but now I think it’s because you’re watching over me, protecting me.”

  “Why did you call me tonight?”

  I looked away. Breathing became difficult. Could I tell him? Did I have the strength?

  “I needed to get away.”

  “Away from what?”

  I looked at him again. “My past.”

  �
��Are we going to be here awhile?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He shrugged off his coat, revealing blue and green checkered pajamas, then sat directly on the floor. He set his coat down and leaned against the wall. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  I pulled my coat tightly around me. It covered my pajamas, sunshine yellow sweatpants and a white t-shirt. I sat cross-legged, faced Brody and took a deep breath.

  “My real name is April Maddock.” I began with what he already knew, but he didn’t interrupt. He let me tell it all from beginning to end: my parents’ senseless deaths when I was only six, living with Aunt Cady, Scott and Keira each being kicked out at the age of Eligibility, Scott to join the military and Keira living on the streets. Then, my employ-ment, the beatings, the humiliation. I ended with the injection, my flight to Parisio and the baby. When I paused to think, he waited. He didn’t comment. He didn’t touch me. He just listened.

  -Brody-

  Revelations

  My transceiver buzzed. Blindly, I reached toward the nightstand. As I opened a connection, I glanced at the clock, 2:11. Who would be calling at this hour?

  “Hello?”

  “Brody, it’s me.” I recognized Aimee’s voice. I rubbed my eyes, stifled a yawn and sat up straight.

  “Are you alright?” I took care to avoid using her name. I fully understood that anyone could be listening in and knew that someone from the Gov probably was, especially to unexpected calls in the middle of the night.

  I didn’t want to give anyone the chance to tail me, so I simply pulled on my coat, grabbed my keys and left.

  I pulled over in front of Aimee’s apartment complex but didn’t see anyone. She was probably waiting inside. But then a dark shape moved away from the wall and approached my vehicle. I stiffened. Did someone beat me here? No, it was Aimee. I breathed a sigh of relief as she slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.

  She asked me to take her to the art gallery. The first thing I saw when Aimee turned on the lights was a detailed sketch of Hisoka Watanabe. I’d first met him at the grand opening.

  Only later, did I realize he was a lawman as well. My jaw clenched.

  The intense jealousy coursing through my veins startled me, but then something amazing happened. Aimee opened up. She told me everything. I was afraid to speak or even move, lest she stop. She finally trusted me, completely, and there was so much more than I’d guessed. When she finished, I held out my hands, palms up. Aimee placed her fingers on top of mine and stared at me.