New World Ashes

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New World Ashes Page 3

by Jennifer Wilson


  In a stoke of defiant genius, I leaned forward and snatched one of the small sandwiches from his desk and took a huge bite making sure to chew with my mouth open. If he was going to crack me in the head again, at least it wouldn’t be on an empty stomach. I watched the young guard move to restrain me, but to my disappointment The Minister waved him off with a chuckle.

  “I nearly missed your smart mouth.” The Minister hesitated. “But I know the truth about that smart mouth of yours. That's just your way of hiding the rage burning inside of you. That hot temper I can see flaring in your eyes, you get that from me.”

  I nearly threw up my stolen sandwich. Swallowing it back down I said, “Lucky me.”

  “You and I are not so different you know.” He spoke softer now, his blue eyes eerily penetrating.

  “You don’t know anything about me.” I crossed my arms in an attempt to shut him out.

  “On the contrary my dear, I practically raised you. While you were more refined when under my watch, I guarantee that part of the girl I trained—that I nurtured—is in there somewhere. Despite your lack of memories, it’s still there. Ingrained in you.” He tapped the corner of his temple to emphasize his point.

  I barked out a wry laugh, spraying some semi-chewed food, and seized another sandwich. I shoved it in my mouth but my throat was so dry I nearly choked on it. I had never questioned my natural abilities when it came to combat or to how I could analyze every situation in seconds. I just always assumed it was some kind of survival instinct. It never crossed my mind that I had been trained, programmed to think that way. My memories stopped before my eleventh birthday, before my parents’ deaths. How many of those lost years had I spent being honed into a weapon? And what kind of parents would have let that happen?

  I gagged down the last bit of sandwich before speaking. “You said it yourself, I seem to be lacking quite a few crucial memories. Like why the hell I should give a crap about anything you say. You’re nothing to me. Not even a face I would notice in a crowd. How could you possibly delude yourself into thinking you have had any kind of influence over me.”

  The Minister laughed without humor. “Oh my dear child. How could you possibly delude yourself into thinking that you could have survived one second outside of The Wall without my influence?” He folded his hands on the desk while leaning toward me. “You survived that city for one reason and one reason alone. You are what I made you.”

  My lip drew up in the corner with disgust. “Your lies only than flatter yourself.”

  Fandrin snapped his fingers at the blonde man standing near the illuminated screens. “Careful who you call a liar, child.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but fell silent as the monitors all flickered to the same scene. There were two small children sparring in a ring while a younger Minister Fandrin watched over them. While the black-haired boy moved with animalistic ferocity, it was the blonde child that caught my attention. She was nearly half the size of the boy fighting with her, but it was clear she was the stronger fighter of the two. She was uncharacteristically graceful for a child. I felt my fingers go numb as I watched the scene before me. There was something familiar in the way she moved. I knew those moves. I knew that face, those eyes…

  She was a younger version of…

  She was me.

  As the tingling spread up my arms, the scene changed and I watched in horror as the little girl sat at a table next to other children and reassembled a gun faster than her surrounding comrades. My throat tightened each time the scene changed—sparring, knife throwing, obstacle courses, shooting… It seemed to go on forever.

  When The Minister finally spoke I couldn’t tear my eyes from the screen.

  “You were the best cadet at the Academy. Under my personal tutelage, you quickly rose to the top of your class. You were going to be the perfect soldier, a lethal weapon before you hit puberty.” Pride dripped from his words.

  I finally wrenched my eyes from the screen to glare at him. “I was just a child… You’re a monster.”

  He shook his white head patiently. “I am not a monster, I am a commander. Before our rule, this city was no better than Tartarus. My fathers before me formed the army that now protects this city and it is I who holds it together today. An army is nothing without a great leader and I am great. I alone was bold enough to seek out children who showed potential and train them. And now our army is stronger than it has ever been. Children have proven to make loyal soldiers and loyal soldiers make for a great nation.” He gestured to the uniformed privates standing in the room around us and to my horror they saluted with pride. “You were trained to rule by my side to be a stronger version of myself when the time came. There was once a time you believed me and I can see that passion, that power still burns in your eyes. Even now, you could join me again. Together, we can protect these people from the horrors outside of The Wall. We can keep the Tribes at bay. We can ensure that our peace here continues.”

  My eyes flickered back to the screens just as the younger version of myself broke her opponent’s nose. Closing my eyes I spoke in a low, steady voice. “I would rather spend the rest of my days rotting in that box you call a cell than joining your ranks. How this city has not risen up to watch you burn for what you have done to their children perplexes me. You’re not keeping the Tribes at bay. You’re working with them. It’s easy to appear the hero when the Ravagers are in your back pocket.”

  When I finally looked up, Minister Fandrin was no longer smiling.

  His words were almost a snarl. “Sadly, my child, it appears your mind has been perverted by the world outside our wall more severely than I thought. I keep these people safe. This city is a working machine of cranks and gears. They turn and smash into one another in a whirl of organized chaos. And I—and I alone—stand in the center turning them as I see fit. Each person, powerful or pitiful, is under my control. Whether they realize it or not, they bend to my will. Because the truth is, I own this city and everyone in it. I am their governor, their minister, and their commander. Without me it would be chaos. People need to be ruled.”

  “You’re not ruling them, you’re controlling them. You are running these people’s lives by keeping them in constant fear. You’re not a leader, you’re a tyrant.” I spat the words at him, my answer rife with undisguised hate.

  “Tomāto – tomäto. Those who seek power and safety will always support me. Like it or not child I am the ruler here, and if you won’t adhere to my rules of your own accord then you will do so by force.” His face cracked into a perfect smile that made my skin crawl. He casually leaned back into his self-proclaimed throne. “In my experience people always go one of two ways, they either bend or they break. Whatever the outcome, it’s only a matter of time.”

  I leaned forward, closing the gap between us.

  “Let me tell you something Gramps. I survived Tartarus despite you, old man. You may have succeeded in killing my parents, but you couldn’t kill me then and you won’t break me now. You can’t break what’s already broken. So bring on your worst. We will soon see who is stronger.”

  His eyes glittered. “Let’s put that to the test, shall we? I think it’s time for a little rehabilitation.”

  4. CONSEQUENCES

  THOUGH I WOULD never admit it—not even to the internal voice nagging in the back of my mind—I regretted my arrogant words.

  I worked my jaw, trying to loosen the clenched muscles. The barren room echoed with the sound of my labored breathing. Sweat clung to my clothing. It pooled on the black leather pad against my back and dripped from my temples. I shifted and the miniscule needles protruding from my skin vibrated painfully with the motion. Every muscle ached. Every nerve ending prickled with unseen fire, but still, these lingering flames were a reprieve compared to the agony that just stopped coursing through my body. This was the third electroshock “therapy” I had endured in barely two days.

  Three soldiers stood alert in the room with me. A stern-faced woman stood in the corner, he
r gaze dutifully trained on the glowing screen before her. Her thin fingers hovered above the illuminated surface, ready to send the next wave of electricity through my body on her superior’s command. A young man who guarded the door refused to meet my gaze, staring intently at his perfectly polished boots. I noted the minute twitch in his jaw every time the woman touched the screen. The last soldier stood behind me, just out of sight.

  Minister Fandrin was nowhere to be seen, but only a fool would think he wasn’t watching my torture, undoubtedly enjoying the pain he himself was too cowardly to inflict. I could see a glint off the monitor the woman was tapping on, a hint of a glass wall behind me. He was definitely watching.

  “Come on Princess, just give up.” Major R. James’ smug voice spoke from somewhere behind me. “He will break you. You’re weaker than him. We all know it.”

  The resounding laugh that burst from my lips sounded insane, even in my own ears. It was so nearly a scream that it was terrifying in the small room. The hairs on my neck rose as the sound echoed back to me. Instantly, I snapped my jaw shut to keep the building screams from completely breaking free. I had managed not to cry out in pain during their torture so far and the Major’s taunting only intensified my resolve. His voice was like a dark beacon, reminding me of everything I stood against. Of everything I was fighting for. Of everything I hated. My determination burned, his words like fuel to the fire.

  “I’m weak… Says the coward blindly serving a senile old cretin.” I retorted.

  “Again,” the Major’s cool voice instructed. The woman’s fingers tapped the monitor.

  My body arched against the straps restraining me, the nylon edges cutting into my skin. The electrical current surging through my body caused every muscle to seize, every joint to explode in agony, but still I remained silent. My teeth locked together so hard I was afraid they would break. Someone snapped their fingers and the current stopped just as suddenly as it had started. I collapsed back onto the strap-clad chair shaking with exhaustion. Spittle frothed in the corners of my mouth as the pain receded from my body again. A blotchy darkness crept into my vision. I closed my eyes in an attempt to stop it, willing myself to stay conscious. My chest ached. Even if I hadn’t been able to hear my heart’s irregular beat on the monitor behind me, I could feel it struggling to pump. A couple more shocks and it would undoubtedly stop beating. Someone moved behind me and I could feel hot breath on my face. Focusing my strength, I opened my eyes.

  A face hovered inches above mine. Major R. James hid his emotions with the precision only a trained soldier could, but his eyes gave him away. An unbridled fury burned in those bright blue irises.

  “You can make this end, Princess. All you have to do is pledge your allegiance to our Minister.” He whispered. “Submit like the weak coward we all know you are. And just give him the girl and the traitor.”

  I snarled at him, bracing myself for the oncoming pain. My heartbeat stuttered on the monitor behind us. The Major’s hand rose, his fingers poised to signal my torment, but just before dropping his fingertips he paused. Tilting his head he pressed his fingers to his right ear. I noticed the girl controlling the monitor do the same thing. Someone was talking to them. She moved before he did, her fingers flying over the screen as if she was twisting dials.

  A deep frown set into Major James’ features as he leaned further over me. “Apparently our dear Minister doesn’t seem to think your heart can withstand any more high voltage shocks. So to accommodate your frail heart, Princess, we’re going to turn down the voltage. But don’t worry, this just means we get to play this game a little longer.” He paused, leaning closer and dropping his voice so only I could hear him. “Minister Fandrin was right, you are weak just like your mother was.”

  I spat, smiling viciously as the spittle slid gratifyingly down his perfect face. He jerked upright, his movement staccatoed with anger. He unceremoniously shoved the female officer away from the monitor and twisted his fingers over the screen. The Major’s blue eyes flashed for a second and then the most excruciating pain I had ever felt wracked my body. I couldn’t even scream before the life was ripped from me.

  I HEAVED FORWARD, sucking in a ragged gasp of breath, my eyes reflexively rolling back into my head. Voices were speaking near by. I wanted to open my eyes to seek out who was speaking but my body was unresponsive. My chest ached as if someone had dropped an anvil on it. Trying to quiet my breathing, to ignore the pain of every breath, I focused on the voices.

  “See, she’s back.” It was the Major’s voice. “Nothing lost.”

  “You’re lucky, Ryker. You may be one of my best Major Generals, but you are not indispensable.” My stomach rolled as Minister Fandrin’s voice filled the room. “Due to your selfish insubordination, we can no longer continue her electrotherapy without risk of killing her today. I need my granddaughter broken, not dead. It would do you well to remember that. Keep your temper in check, or I will check it for you.”

  There was a tapping of receding shoes mixed with the offset rap of a cane, their sharp rhythms echoing as they faded down the hall. My eyelids fluttered open, but it took a moment to find focus. I stared at the Major, his bright blues eyes like flares in the dim room.

  “Clean her up and take her back to her cell.” He said coolly before turning to leave.

  I passed out while they were moving me, but when I awoke in my cell someone had sponged the sweat from my body. My hair fell in wet but clean strands, clinging to my face and the back of my neck. My clothes were still dingy though. The stink clung in my nostrils, a foul acidic reminder of my torture. But there was another scent in the room, something sweet. Stacked just inside the door was a pile of dark linens. Without lifting my head I pulled the top most piece of fabric into the air. It was a shirt. Without having to unfold them too, I could see the other loose fabric was a pair of pants. My captors had given me the choice of changing myself. No one had forced me into a shower or stripped me of my clothing. It seemed strange that the same people who had just forcibly stopped my heart with an electrical current found morality when it came to undressing me. An unwanted memory pushed its way to the front of my thoughts.

  Maddox’s dark eyes flashed in my mind, the hungry lust burning in them as he had watched me shower. Then suddenly they transformed, the life draining from his black eyes as death crept over his face as he took his last labored breaths. I buried my face into the stiff mattress, pressing until white spots popped into my vision, trying to erase the tormenting images. They were getting worse.

  Why did he push me out of the way? Why did he sacrifice his life for mine? I still felt a burning hate for Maddox. As the anger flared up, I couldn’t be sure if it was only the hate I felt for Maddox or if it was simply all the anger I felt for everything in my life. The fury that consumed me came on suddenly like a flash of lightening. I was angry with my parents for dying, with Fandrin for being a monster, with myself for loving Triven and Mouse when I knew it would only lead to pain, with Maddox for his leering eyes and worse still for saving me, and with Triven for not having come for me already. I had tried not to think about him, but these past few days I was losing that battle. Triven promised he would come back for me, just as I had promised I would survive this place. But as my body ached with pain, I had the sinking feeling we had both made false promises. A Tribal death would have been kinder than this. Violent, but faster.

  I wanted to fight for them, to see Mouse and Triven again, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last here. Tears burned in my eyes. I squeezed them tighter refusing to let a single one escape. The Major’s—Ryker I vaguely remember the Minister calling him—harsh words floated back to me. “Minister Fandrin was right, you are weak just like your mother was.”

  My mother was not weak. She had escaped this nightmare disguising itself as a utopia and she did it to save me. If my love for Triven wasn’t enough to get me though this, then my love for my parents had to be. Tartarus might have killed my mother, but she had survived Fandrin a
nd that meant I could too. Strange how kindred I felt to her now. For so many years my mother had been little more than a face in my dreams. And while I was aware of how much we looked alike, there was little other connection I had to the woman who haunted me. I had inherited her blue eyes, her blonde hair, her sharp cheekbones and her thin lips, but that was it. While still aggressively protective of her memory, I had always connected more with my father. He was the one whose words spoke to me everyday, whose knowledge had kept me alive.

  I longed for my father’s journal, hoping it was still safely in Triven’s care. Had he found it yet, nestled in my abandoned backpack?

  As much as I wanted my father’s writings here to comfort me, I was glad they were far away from Fandrin’s reach. Besides, there was little good they would do me here. My father had never written about The Sanctuary or how they had escaped. All of his words of survival were for the world outside, here they meant nothing.

  Today had proven one thing, despite the torture—despite the threats—Minister Fandrin wanted me alive. He restarted my heart, validating the fact that I was more valuable to him alive than dead. This meant that if I could hold out mentally, if I could stay true to who I was, I had a chance at surviving this.

  I sat up and pulled the fresh clothing toward me. Turning my back to the ever-seeing camera, I stripped off my soiled garments and put on the fresh ones. The fabric felt rough against my still sensitive skin but at least they smelled fresh.

  Shoving my old vile clothing away, I curled up on my cot. Crossing my legs beneath me, I leaned back against the cold cinderblock walls for support. The red light of the camera winked at me before I closed my eyes and let my head fall back.

 

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