New World Rising

by Wilson, Jennifer

  “Don’t be foolish Doc.” The dark-haired soldier spat at the tall man.

  “Don’t be such a brute and learn some compassion. She’s a human being, not a rabid animal.” With a force I was surprised such a lanky man could possess, he shouldered the guard out of the way. In his hands was a pile of clothing.

  Looking down, I immediately lowered myself further on the table and pulled my arms around my bare chest.

  The so-called doctor laid the clothing next to me and pulled up a sheet to shield my body from the guards. Just looking at the pile I knew the clothing would be too big, but that was the least of my problems. While hastily pulling on the faded grey shirt and black linen pants, I glared at the dark haired man with the gun.

  His returning gaze made my skin crawl.

  Once my body was covered, the doctor dropped the cloth and stepped back. He looked young, younger than I would have envisioned a doctor being. Fidgeting under my steady gaze, he removed his glasses, wiping them on his shirt as he cleared his throat.

  “My n-name is Porters. I’m the resident doctor and have been tending to your injuries. If it is alright with you I would like to touch you to take your vitals.” His hands twisted nervously.

  The black-haired guard’s finger pressed over his trigger, but he did not yet point the barrel at me. The blonde guard’s gaze flickered to his colleague, looking for guidance.

  They were afraid of me.

  I tried not to smile as the thought crossed my mind. Although I was unarmed and half their size, I sparked fear in these men. Even the leering guard in the corner showed a hint of fear behind his imperious eyes.

  I nodded once at the man named Porters.

  He moved slowly, touching his fingertips to my wrists, flashing a light in my eyes and feeling my neck and shoulder. I was careful to keep my eyes on his face, but my focus was actually on the dark-haired guard. His black eyes were focused intently on me.

  Trusting your instincts in Tartarus could save your life and that man made my scalp prickle. He would prove to be an adversary. I could feel it in my bones.

  Porters stepped away from me looking pleased. “Everything looks good. Your back has healed nicely, your heart rate is strong and your retinas have reattached perfectly.”

  I nodded my head again, acknowledging the information. I remembered the hum as the heat-seeking gun charged, the fire as the bullet pierced my skin. Then there was an explosion. I couldn’t remember what had caused it though, just the blinding light and force as it blew me backwards.

  Before he could utter another word the doors opened and a woman walked in flanked by two other armed men. She had stark white hair that was pulled back into a severe bun. The grey suit that loosely fitted her lean body only accented her pale features further. Her face was long and thin with a sharply pointed chin. Despite the color of her hair, her face was relatively un-aged. There were two faint lines at the corners of her eyes hinting at passed years, but I would have guessed she was probably in her forties. Close to what my own parents would now be if they were still alive. Her brilliant honey-toned eyes fell immediately upon me, but there was no look of maternal instinct or pity in them. I doubted this woman would prove to be an ally.

  Her shoes caught my attention. They were the same beige pair I had seen not long ago. This was the cool-voiced woman. Confirming my observations, she began to speak.

  “You are currently being held within the confines of my walls, against my better judgment. I will not waste my time on you, so you will answer my questions and you will be honest. If I believe you are deceiving me, I will have you shot on the spot. Do you understand?” Her tone was clipped.

  I nodded, refusing to speak.

  “Good.” Her eyes narrowed. “What is your name?”

  I didn’t respond at first, narrowing my eyes. Immediately four guns pointed at my heart.

  “Phoenix.” I said, my voice sounding surprisingly strong.

  She raised her hand and the guns lowered in response.

  “What Tribe are you from?” She scrutinized my every movement.

  “I don’t claim allegiance to any Tribe.”

  “Fine, then what Tribe were you born to?”

  “I wasn’t born to any Tribe.” The thought disgusted me. “I was born in The Sanctuary.”

  Her eyes tighten as she considered me.

  “Take her to the cells.” And with those last words she disappeared back through the doors.

  Fury flared within me. I had answered all her stupid questions and now she was throwing me in a cage? I hadn’t even gotten answers in return.

  The sullen guard grabbed my arm and yanked me from the table. I stumbled against him, my legs weak from lack of use. Gathering myself, I pulled away, but his grip held tight. The cruel smile on his lips grew as he towered over me.

  Porters laid a hand on him, his tone tense. “Go easy on her Maddox, she is not completely done healing yet.”

  Maddox snarled at the doctor. “Mind your business Doc. You healed her enough, now it is time to do my job.”

  I noticed how the doctor’s eyes flickered from mine to Maddox’s. Releasing the brute’s shoulder, he stepped back and squared himself, drawing himself up to full height.

  “It is your job to guard, but it is mine to protect. If anything happens to my patient under your watch, it will be your head I will come for.” His face softened as he turned to me. “You need to drink a lot of fluids over the next few days. I will come and check on you regularly.” His eyes darted to Maddox’s on the last word.

  The grip on my right arm eased slightly, but his pressure remained firm. Without another word to the doctor, Maddox dragged me from the room. The other guard appeared at my other shoulder as we moved through the door, but unlike his counterpart, he did not touch me.

  They moved me at a quick pace, my usually agile feet stumbling to keep up. The walls here were also concrete, showing no sign of weakness or escape. Every twenty feet or so the tunnels would split off creating new paths, but the receding hallways all looked the same to me. Naturally, my eyes darted around for any possibility of evasion or improvised weapons, but the hall yielded nothing. The smooth walls were clean and seamless. Every hallway was empty as we moved. I saw not a single other person.

  My chances of escape were growing thinner.

  We turned left and arrived at a completely open doorway with a panel next to it. The ponytailed guard pressed his palm to it. When the responding beep sounded, I was thrown unceremoniously inside. Maddox laughed pitilessly as I fell, sliding across the hard floor.

  “Sweet dreams.” He crooned winking at me.

  It took every bit of self-control I had not to throw myself at him and begin clawing at his face.

  The door beeped again and they left me unguarded. I stared at the open doorway shocked.

  It couldn’t be this easy.

  Climbing to my feet I moved towards the door. I could see clearly into the hallway.

  It was empty.

  Stretching out my hand, I reached towards the door, then jumped.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  The voice came from the dark corner of the room. A boy about my age emerged from the shadows. He was thin, with jet-black hair that was cut closely to his head. Beneath his maroon shirt, tattoos covered his pale skin. I swallowed thickly as his brown eyes watched me.

  He was a Taciturn.

  Even had he not been wearing the color of his tribe—which he so obviously was— the tattoos were a dead giveaway. The Taciturns literally wore their pride on their skin. Their tattoos told of their past kills, personal triumphs or private vendettas. While the boy did not bear many markings, the ink was still prominent against his fair skin.

  I glared at the thin boy and reached my fingers out further. Hell would freeze over before I would willingly stay in a room alone with a Tribesman.

  The air crackled as my fingertips grew nearer to the doorframe. Before I could think to pull my hand away, sparks flew from m
y fingers and I was blown backwards. Everything faded to black before I even hit ground.

  When I came to, I was lying on my back looking up into the face of the Taciturn boy. He smiled knowingly at me.

  “I told you not to do that.” His smile erupted into a full-blown grin as he offered me a hand. Glaring at his open fingers I rose, refusing his aid. He just shrugged and walked to an open cot on the other side of the room.

  “Be thankful you only touched it with your fingertip. I pressed my whole palm to it. Came around three hours later and damn near soiled myself.” He flung himself down on the cot and began picking at his cuticles.

  Looking down at my own fingers, an angry burn was blossoming on my index finger. My brow furrowed. I turned my hand twice, staring at my nails. They were long, protruding grotesquely over my fingertips.

  How long had I been unconscious?

  I checked my other hand and then my arms before grabbing for my hair. Uncharacteristically it was pulled back. I pulled the tie holding it back and the greasy locks fell to below my shoulders. I gaped at the long blonde hair. I had always kept it short, cut blunt with my knife. The few times I ever caught my reflection I knew I looked too much like my mother. She was a beautiful woman, but in Tartarus beauty was a dangerous thing. It made you a lusted object, a target. It was a weakness and I hated it. Keeping it cropped short in a disheveled manner helped hide that attribute. I pulled at the hair, wishing it gone.

  “Don’t worry, you were only out for four days.” A young man stood in the doorway watching me. His voice was oddly familiar.

  He wore dark pants like the pair I had been given and a patched grey shirt that was frayed at the edges. There were no distinguishable Tribe markers on him. In his hands was a tray of food. Just as the guard had, he pressed his hand to the panel, waited for the beep then walked through the doorway. My new roommate bounded toward him, snagging a steaming bowl and chunk of something brown.

  “About time, I was starving in here.” He muttered, stuffing the chunk in his mouth.

  The newcomer set the tray on what I assumed was to be my bed. I was surprised when he actually turned his back to me to do so.

  Rule number one: trust no one.

  Rule number two: never turn your back to someone. (See rule number one.)

  I watched him with cautious eyes as he turned back to me. His face was startlingly gentle as he looked at me. His features were sharp, but those eyes were… There was something in those hazel eyes I barely recognized. Something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Kindness?

  “The regenerating serum does that.” He gestured to my hair and nails. “It enhances cell growth. Doc Porters is fascinated by it, he used it to heal your back. One of the side effects, however, is that your other more influential cells, like hair and nails, grow at an accelerated rate as well.”

  I stared at him, unable to find anything to say.

  “I will be back for the dishes later. The water is for you. Doc Porters said you needed to keep hydrated.” Looking me over one more time he turned to leave. As he pressed his hand to the panel I found my words.

  “Thank you.”

  He stopped in the doorway, but did not turn around. “You’re welcome.”

  I watched as he disappeared around the corner.

  “So she speaks.” My cellmate eyed me over his soup bowl.

  “Aren’t Taciturns supposed to be the strong silent type?” I let a little venom slide into my words as I moved to inspect the food left for me.

  “Not all of us fit the molds we were born into.” His gaze hardened.

  I cautiously sniffed the soup, my stomach awakening in response. It smelled delicious and there was steam rising from its surface. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten something hot. Reason told me my captors would not waste their time rescuing me, just to poison my food. But I still struggled with the idea of eating something I had not prepared.

  “If you’re not going to eat that I will.” The Taciturn boy called.

  I wanted the will power to give him my food and see if it killed him, but I was too hungry. Instead I compromised, tossing him the brown chunk I supposed was bread and sipped at my soup.

  He caught the bread with ease and stuffed it into his mouth. “Cheers.”

  I watched him as I finished my bowl and then drained my water glass.

  “So why are you here, Taciturn?” We watched each other cautiously from our respective cots.

  “I left my Tribe due to… artistic differences. As I’m sure you know, leaving a Tribe isn’t the easiest thing. I was jumped by my own and left for the Scavengers to feed on. Three days later I woke up here.” He gestured to the room around us.

  “And where exactly is here, Taciturn?” I began biting my nails back down to a reasonable length.

  “No idea. Unfortunately our captors are better with the questions than the answers.” He shoved another hunk of bread in his mouth. “It’s Arden by the way, I despise being referred to as Taciturn.”

  I wondered if that was his real name. Regardless, this forsaken Tribesman may prove to be a good source of information if not an ally. And right now I needed as many allies as I could get.

  “Phoenix.” I offered as a sign of camaraderie.

  He smiled around the hunk of food in his mouth, taking my bait. Before I could ask any more questions the room was cast into darkness as the light went out. I jumped to my feet ready for an attack. I could see Arden’s eyes glinting in the darkness.

  “Easy Phoenix, it’s just lights out. They’ll rudely wake us in the morning with them again when they want us up. No point wasting a good night’s sleep.” The springs of his cot squeaked as he settled in for the night. “I am a light sleeper though, so don’t try anything stupid.”

  With his warning still ripe in my ears he rolled over and almost instantly began snoring. I had never before slept in the same room as another person and his presence left me feeling twitchy in the dark. Worse than knowing someone else was in the room with me was knowing there was a door I could not pass through but anyone else could easily walk in. My mind instantly thought of the dark-haired guard, Maddox, and his overtly roaming eyes.

  I curled up in the middle of my cot and pulled my knees to my chest. Rigidly, I pressed my back against the concrete wall and braced myself for a long night. From my vantage point I could see both the doorway and Arden’s slumbering form.

  If anyone was coming for me tonight, I would know.

  I STARTED AWAKE with a jolt; the familiar scream caught in my throat as it did every morning. At some point in the night I could no longer fight my body’s exhaustion and I had fallen asleep. Choking back the scream I shook myself awake. How could I have been so stupid?

  The room was still dark. Arden’s motionless form was still breathing deeply but something had changed. The blanket I had left sitting at the foot of my bed was now draped over me. Our food tray was gone and a fresh glass of water lay on the floor by my cot. Someone had been in the room and I had slept thorough it. The hair on my arms stood up.

  Normally I was so vigilant, so aware of my surroundings, and last night someone had not only come into the room without my knowing, but had actually managed to place a blanket on me without my knowledge. I shuddered and pushed the blanket away from me. Staring at the matte wool, I wondered if it was a sign of kindness or a threat, warning how close they could get to me.

  In my experience, kindness did not exist in Tartarus.

  The lights flicked on, causing me to flinch. Arden began to stir, grumbling as he folded his arm over his eyes. Not two seconds later the guards were outside our door scanning their palms to enter.

  “Sleep well?” Maddox’s hard eyes raked over me as he entered the room.

  At the sound of his voice Arden jumped up from his bunk, clearly on edge.

  “You two have a busy day ahead of you.” It was the blonde ponytail that spoke this time. I had still not learned his name. Not that it really mattered. To my disappointment he moved to
ward Arden while the hulking Maddox descended upon me.

  I restrained myself from breaking his nose when he grabbed my arm and yanked me from the cot. But the satisfied sneer on his face told me he could see the anger burning inside me. He was enjoying this.

  They dragged us from our confines and at the first split in the barren hallways they separated us. I glanced over my shoulder. Arden was watching me too with apprehension in his chocolate eyes. Not wanting to appear weak, I broke our connection and marched forward with robotic precision. Whatever torture they would administer, I would not give them the satisfaction of breaking me.

  THE DARK GREY room had become painfully familiar over the last few days. Each fissure in the wall, every stain descending from the ceiling, I knew them all. I had prepared myself for the cruelest physical pain, but this monotony was almost worse.

  I knew how to control myself, to play along. My first two outbursts in this room had earned me a taser gun in the ribs. Both times I woke up back in the cell with Arden staring down at me. After that, I realized their immediate intention was not to kill me, but they weren’t about to set me free either. Every day I asked them questions as I answered theirs, but my queries were never answered. I was no further now than I had been the day I woke up in the doctor’s office. My few belongings were still gone and the little girl’s situation was still unknown. Arden, while a decent companion, proved equally useless, knowing less than I did about the city itself or our whereabouts.

  As I stared at the greying walls for what felt like the hundredth time, I could feel my composure slipping.

  “Where were you born?” The sandy-haired inquisitor asked me for the hundredth time.

  I ground my back teeth together. “I have told you that already.”