Imposter

by Chanda Stafford

  “What about Mira?”

  Her question rips open the healing wound in my chest and I wince, but fight not to show it. “She’s dead.”

  She lays a hand protectively on her stomach. “I know, but I didn’t think you realized it. You changed after you met her. I don’t know if you wanted anyone else to see it, but I did. It took me a while to realize that you were in love with her, and by that time, it was over.”

  A headache starts pulsing behind my eyes. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

  Evie scowls in disbelief. “Why not? We need to move on, right? Start a family together. Build a new life, and all the other stuff you just mentioned. I can’t do that with the Mira stuff hanging over my head.”

  “That was my job,” I growl. “It’s not like I fell in love with her on purpose. It just sort of... happened.”

  She gives me a shrewd look and I have a feeling she can see right through my lies. “But you’re telling me the truth now, right? You do want to build a future with me. You’re not going to go off and leave again, acting like some lovesick fool over a girl you’ll never have.”

  I take her hand and place it against my heart so she can feel its sure and steady beat inside my chest. “I swear Evie, I’ve changed. As of right now, you and our daughter are the only two girls in my life, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

  Several hours later, Evie leaves my apartment to start her shift with the cleaning crew. After the door shuts quietly behind her, I’m alone again. That’s what you wanted, right? Except that somehow, it feels lonelier now than ever before. No, this isn’t what I wanted at all.

  We’re the Monsters

  Mira

  Ben settles himself next to me on the grass. He angles his body away from me, toward the well-worn path that leads from our quiet spot to the garden’s general entrance. With his leash looped loosely around my wrist, he can’t wander too far and quickly curls into a ball. As I watch Ben sleep, his legs twitch. A light yip leaves his throat.

  What is he dreaming about? Is he running after Socrates? He must miss him. I feel the ache, too, but it has to be so much worse for Ben. He was with Socrates for years as his partner, confidante, friend, and helper. Ben and George Eliot, both refugees in a war that only they knew they lost.

  The grass rustles behind me and my head whips toward the sound. Ben jerks awake, a low growl in his throat. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he lumbers to his feet.

  A slim woman dressed in a trim black slacks and a rich emerald sweater glides toward me. The muted sun adds a golden glow to her dark brown hair and pale, porcelain skin. A pair of armed guards follows a short distance behind her, and stop when she approaches me.

  “Socrates, what a welcome surprise.” The President’s wife reaches out and takes my hands, squeezing them between hers. Ben grumbles, but backs down as she glares at him.

  “Indeed, Veronica. I never expected to find you here.”

  “I have a confession to make,” she says as she perches on the bench next to me. “Please don’t be cross with me, but our meeting is no accident. I asked one of my men to find a time when you were alone so I could have a chat with you.” Her rich red lips pull back in a smile. “I didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance to speak with you alone, without your wife or that servant boy.”

  I scoot back a few inches to put more space between us. Her cloying, flowery perfume clogs my nostrils and I fight the urge to sneeze. “I’m here now. What can I do for you?”

  She drops her shoulders and looks skyward with a delicate sigh. “I do wish you’d drop this stupid Bill. It’s doing nothing but create controversy and strife. Our life is so good here, we don’t need any more problems right now. Our country is in an unprecedented era of peace. We haven’t been at war with any other countries for nearly a century. This is a time for us to prosper and celebrate, not chip away at the very foundations of our society.”

  I pause for a few seconds, trying to wrap my head around her words. “You don’t think I should speak on behalf of the Free America Bill?”

  Her mouth turns down in a moue of disappointment. “Of course not. If it passes, another civil war is certain to occur.”

  “But if it fails,” I say, flatly. “More of my people will die every single day so others can live forever.”

  “Your people?” Her perfectly arched eyebrows lift in surprise. “What do you mean? You’re just as much a Texan as I am.” She pats my knee. “We’re both cut from cloth, I believe, though I blame your temporary lack of judgment on Eliot’s misguided decision not to Exchange again.”

  As I remove her hand, I see the guards tense up. Unable to sit next to her any longer, I stand up. “So let me get this straight. You want me to back off of the Free America Bill because you think it would ruin your comfortable way of life, is that it?” She starts to speak, but I stop her. “You’re willing to watch kids die, knowing you could have prevented it, just because you don’t want to change the status quo.”

  “What about you?” she hisses as she gets to her feet. From the corner of my eye, I can see the guards shift from side to side, uneasy at the escalating tension. “You’re a hypocrite, killing one girl then trying to save the rest of them. Wasn’t she worth saving?”

  Like a knife twisting in my heart, I stagger back until I bump against the bench. “That’s not fair,” I whisper. “Mira had a choice, she chose this.”

  Sensing that she’s won, a triumphant smile flashes across Veronica’s face. “How could she refuse? Sacrifice to save her family or live and watch them die. What a savior you are, what a martyr she was. You’re just as bad as the rest of them, only you parade it on your sleeve and claim that there wasn’t any other way. You say that we’re the monsters, Socrates, but have you looked in a mirror lately?”

  The Mad Hatter

  Will

  “Your presence has been requested by the basement elevators. Please arrive at your earliest convenience.” The light on my com unit turns off before I have the chance to reply.

  I press the button on the side anyway. “Who is this?” There’s no response. Antony, the boy I’m teaching to spar, stares at me in wide-eyed disbelief. “It’s okay.” I ruffle his short blonde hair. “We’ll just have to cut this one short.”

  “Yes, sir.” His head bobs up and down quickly as he tries to emulate my relaxed ready stance.

  “You did a good job today for your first lesson.” His chest puffs up and I smile. I used to be like that. As I grab a couple towels and toss one to him, Antony’s image shifts to that of a young girl, dark hair pulled back, and dressed in the same white practice garb. Would she be as enthusiastic as my pupil or would she be stubborn and pigheaded like her mother? I crack a smile as the boy wipes the sweat from his head. “Just work on your blocks, especially you’re high block. I know it’s tough for you right now, because you haven’t had a growth spurt yet, but it’s good to be prepared. Sometimes your adversary is much taller than you and you have to learn how to compensate for that.”

  “Yes sir, I’ll practice more, I promise.” With that, I release him and Antony darts off to get changed and return to his regular classes.

  On my way out, I wave to a few of the other instructors, having grown up with most of them. “How’s he doing?” One of my own trainers, Garvin, asks as I toss my towel in the slot by the back door.

  “He’s doing great. I’m glad he was chosen for this job. He’s a quick study and if his body grows at the same rate as his mind, he’ll be one of the best we have.”

  “Good.” He nods. “Although I guess it won’t matter if the Bill passes, unless they go back to the old way of using volunteers.”

  My hand hovers over the door. “Either way, there’ll still be a need for us as long as they do Exchanges.”

  “True. I’ll see you around, okay?” I wave but he lifts his hand to stop me. “Oh, and congratulations on the impending little one. New life is to be celebrated, no matter how it came about.”
/>
  I grimace, unable to form a smile. Obviously Garvin heard about how tempestuous Evie and my relationship is at times. “Thanks. I couldn’t agree more.” Already feeling like I’m running late, I quickly shower and change, then head down the back hall to the maintenance elevator. It’s one of the lesser used ones, so I’m not surprised to find myself the only one standing inside it. I press the code for the basement, the sinking feeling in my chest nothing to do with the moving compartment.

  When the elevator shudders to a stop on the bottom level, I instinctively balance on the balls of my feet and hold my arms out slightly at my sides, incase I’m attacked. By the time the doors slide all the way open, I’ve almost completely convinced myself to stay inside and go back to my apartment. If someone wanted to kill me, be it the guards or the Lifers who whoever, this would be the perfect place.

  “Have you discovered a fondness for elevators, my friend?” James Scoffield steps into view and smiles at me. Unlike the last time I saw him, his hair is darker, most likely dyed, and he’s wearing a maintenance uniform.

  I raise my eyebrows as I join him in the dim hall. “The doctor gig didn’t work out?”

  He chuckles and claps me on the back. “I’m a man of many talents, just like you. How’s your training of the new recruit?”

  “Antony?” I narrow my eyes at him in surprise. “How’d you know about him? He just arrived a couple weeks ago.”

  “A boy from my own farm,” James says. “We might even be related.” He leads down a narrow hall made even more ominous by the sporadic flashing of lights.

  “Think I should report this to maintenance?” I nod at one of the blinking bars.

  “Go for it.” James barks out a laugh. “Then we’ll just have to have somebody bust them again.” He stops in front of another elevator door, this one much older than the other one, narrower, and with an old-fashioned rope in front of it marked “Caution.” He unclips one end and manually pulls the door open. “After you.” He gestures to the darkness beyond.

  “What do you—” Before I can finish my question, something dark swoops over my head, and I’m yanked backward into the elevator car. A sharp poke to my neck brings almost instant darkness.

  ***

  “Sorry about that, old Chap.” A voice, way too happy for the grogginess in my head, calls out somewhere to the left of me.

  “Wha—?” The rest of my words are lost to the nausea rising up my throat. Whoever’s in the room with me barely has enough time to rip the dark sack off my head before I hurl whatever was in my stomach to the side.

  “Hmm. Usually people don’t react quite so volatilely to one of Dominic’s concoctions. He must be slipping.”

  Groaning, I reach up and rub my eyes, but for some reason, everything’s still dark. “Where am I?”

  “Someplace safe,” the man says. His voice is oddly familiar. It has a lyrical quality that’s almost like a song, but there’s a hint of a threat underneath. I latch on to that and focus on bringing clarity to my mind.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend, but you wouldn’t recognize me as such were we to meet on the street.” He chuckles and I resist the urge to be drawn in by his voice. “In fact, you might even try to kill me.”

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Because, my dear boy, we have a lot in common.”

  I cast my eyes wildly in the darkness, but it’s so complete I can’t even see my own body beneath me. Taking deep, slow breaths to quell the panic rising in my chest, I stare straight ahead. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  The man laughs and I hear a creaking sound as the man settles himself into a chair across from me. “You’d be surprised. For starters, we both want Socrates dead. It’s really a pity that we can’t always get what we want.”

  Was I that transparent? “You’re right. We need to keep him alive until after he does his presentation on the Free America Bill.”

  “Ahh yes.” The voice deepens, almost into a growl. “That is the most peaceful way to accomplish things.” Now he sounds almost… disappointed.

  I shake my head. That can’t be right. Maybe whatever they injected me with is still screwing with my system. “Where’s James?”

  “Oh, the lovely Mr. Scoffield?”

  “Who else?” Irritation rises swiftly inside me, and had I been able to see, I might have left or done something I would later regret.

  “I imagine he’s out meddling in things he doesn’t need to,” the man says, flippantly.

  “Why did you call me down here? I doubt it was for us to have this little… chat. Or do you really enjoy kidnapping and drugging people, and then messing with their heads?”

  “I have to admit.” The chair creaks as if the man’s leaning forward. “That this part of subterfuge is quite entertaining. I have been out of the game for long, I’d forgotten just how enjoyable it could be. I just wish I could be here for the checkmate.” Another creak, and I imagine the shadowy figure tilting backward. “No, I simply wanted to meet you, suss you out if you will. Sometimes I have these feelings, and they’re often quite accurate. Well, the sense I got the first time we met is that you are about to become quite important in this game we’re playing. I’m not certain if you’re to be a friend or a foe, but either way, it’s always a good idea to scope out one’s possible adversaries.”

  “Look, mister. This is ridiculous. Either tell me what you’re talking about or let me go.”

  The man’s silent as he considers this. “I’ll let you go, as there’s no real reason to dispatch you just yet. I’ll even grant you one question before we send you on your way.”

  Is he serious? This guy sounds nuts. “Okay—” I take a deep breath. “Who are you?”

  “I go by many names, my boy, but my friends, and I do hope you’ll be one of those and not an enemy, call me the Mad Hatter.”

  From The Beginning

  Mira

  “Focus, Socrates.” Eliot frowns at me over her morning coffee. “This is the biggest moment of your life. You have to pay attention.”

  Frustrated, I stare at the notes suspended mid-air until they blur in front of me. The words waver as I pass my fingers through them, and then assume their normal shape.

  “I’m sorry. I know we’ve been working on this for a couple hours now, it’s just…” I search the room until I find Ben, sleeping curled into a ball and snoring softly. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s pretty obvious.” She puts her hand on mine. “I know this is difficult for you, but you have to try.” She pulls the EG out of her pocket and presses the button on the side. A wavy sound-disrupting bubble expands around us. “Soc hated speeches, too.” A tear glistens in her eye, and she dabs at it. “He always waited until the last minute.” She chuckles, reflecting inward at a past intimacy I can’t read about in the history books. “But he was damn good when he put his mind to it. That man could charm his way out of a hangman’s noose if he had to.” She sniffs.

  I squeeze her hand. “You must miss him so much.”

  Ellie stares at her hands and then shakes herself free of her memories. She hits the button on the EG again and stares pointedly at me. “Remember, the introduction is the most crucial part of your speech. You must hook your audience, or they’ll be lost after about thirty seconds.”

  Before the Exchange, I never really thought about the speech Socrates was going to give to help free the Texans, mostly because it wouldn’t have anything to do with me. When I made the decision to be his Second, I knew that I would die and he would live on in my body. That’s the way it’s been since the Immigration War, and that’s the way I figured it’d play out for me.

  A knock on the door heralds Will, carrying a tray of food. His movements are stiff, and he has two red circles on his neck, the kind one gets from needle patches. Was Will injured somehow? From the corner of my eye, I watch him walk across the room, but I can’t see any obvious injuries.

  “Thank you,” she says to him as he pl
aces the tray on the small round table.

  “You’re welcome.” After lifting the top of the tray, Will bows and steps back. “Is there any way I can be of further assistance?” His gaze passes over the place where I’m supposed to be, but it’s as if I’m invisible.

  “No.” Eliot gestures to the food and then places her hand on mine. “I believe we have all that we require, don’t you agree, Soc?”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes, I don’t think we need anything else.”

  “Good.” Will turns toward the door. “I have been instructed to return with Rodney, who will help you finalize your appearance.”

  “What’s wrong with the way I look?” I snap without thinking.

  Ellie glares at me, and Will stumbles to a stop, his hand hovering over the door.

  “Please forgive Socrates,” Ellie says to him. “He’s still not altogether himself.”

  Will studies me for a moment longer before turning to Eliot. “Of course.” He takes a step toward the door. “Please enjoy your breakfast. I’ll be back shortly.”

  When the door snicks shut behind him, I turn to Ellie, my face burning. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  She glares at me. “You have to. You don’t have a choice.” She smooths her hands on her pants and takes a deep breath. “This may not be what either of us envisioned for our future, but it is what it is. We can’t change the fact that Socrates chose you to live instead of him. That’s done and over with. We can’t go back in time, or God knows I would have changed a million things already and quite possibly none of this would have happened.”

  “Me, too.” My little sister’s face appears in my head, and then Max’s. “But you’re right. We can’t do anything about how we got here, we can only try and figure out how to move forward.”

  “The time is coming, and quite quickly I might add, when you will stand up in front of those who have the power to change the fate of Texans around the nation, and convince them to do the right thing.”