Naturals (Lost Souls)

by Tiffany Truitt

  When the chosen ones were first created, they were meant to be symbols of everything we hoped humanity could be: strong and resilient. Testaments to the power of science—its ability to make the sublime tangible.

  This was a killing machine. He could end me before I had time to blink.

  “You’re really telling me this thing was created by our council?” Henry asked, clearly shocked.

  “That abnorm belongs to the western sector, all right,” Eric replied, nudging the body with the butt of his rifle.

  “From the compound we burned down?” I asked, kneeling next to Henry to get a closer look.

  “Why don’t we ask him?” Eric replied, nodding once toward the creature before walloping him on the side of the head with his gun. Suddenly, the creature began to stir.

  I couldn’t stop the yelp that issued from my mouth as I scrambled to my feet, Henry close behind me. McNair and Eric clicked the safeties off their guns in a perfect synchronized series of movements as Robert came to stand near Henry and me.

  The prisoner moaned and let out a series of sounds that resembled words but made very little sense. “Are we sure this creation can even talk? You don’t have to be able to speak to receive orders,” Robert noted.

  “I don’t care if he can talk. He sure as hell can lie there and listen,” McNair said, keeping his gun pointed directly at him.

  The creature’s eyes sprang open, then they narrowed as he took us in. No doubt, just like his more fashionable brothers, he’d been taught to see us as vermin. His face turned an alarming shade of red and sweat appeared on his brow as he attempted to sit up, blowing air from his nostrils like some wild animal ready to attack.

  “Why can’t he move?” Henry asked.

  “’Cause right after we shot his friends in the head, I got this one here in the stomach,” Eric bragged.

  He was right. A blotch of red was slowly taking over the chosen one’s shirt.

  “That won’t keep him down for long,” Robert said. “He’ll fight through it. That’s the way we’re trained—to deal with pain. Once he’s gathered his senses, he’ll fight till he bleeds to death.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I’ll shoot him in the head before that happens,” Eric snapped. “All your scientific enhancements can’t deter a bullet from ripping apart your brain. You abnorms are flesh and blood, after all. No matter what the brochure says.”

  “That’s why they don’t want your kind having guns. A direct shot to the head will take out one of the abnorms. And without the abilities, the gun levels the playing field slightly,” added McNair.

  “Then just shoot him now,” Henry replied, his face twisting in repugnance.

  “Hey! You! Can you speak?” McNair yelled at the struggling thing. Tears streamed down the creature’s face as he fought against the pain in order to fulfill his duty—to eradicate any natural he came across, that much was clear. If the creators could make something like this and let it live, then they no longer worried about making us feel safe. The beauty of the chosen ones was meant to put us at ease. Nothing about the appearance of this thing would leave anyone feeling calm. This was a weapon of war. Not a God sent from the heavens to protect the poor, defenseless mortals.

  This was truly a weapon of mass destruction.

  An unintelligible string of grunts issued from the creature’s mouth. “Maybe Robert’s right,” I said. “If the war between the easterners and us is as bad as you say, then this is merely a soldier. Why would they give him the ability to talk? He won’t be able to tell us anything. You’re wasting your time.”

  “Wasting our time? Do you want to know what he and his friends did to Jones while McNair and I tried to take him down?” Eric said slowly. “It wasn’t a quick kill. They yanked his arms from their sockets. Can you even imagine what that sounds like?” He shut his eyes, forcing away some image I didn’t want to see. “Then one of them picked him up by his legs and hit him against a tree over and over and over again, like he was a damn baseball bat!” Eric snarled

  I gulped.

  “I’m gonna make this last, sweetie,” Eric promised.

  “Damn right,” Henry growled. “He deserves a slow death.”

  Robert sighed and crouched down next to the chosen one. And the man stopped writhing. They simply stared at each other, then Robert removed his jacket and placed it over the man’s wound. “Do you understand me?” he asked gently.

  The man’s eyes widened and he gave a small nod.

  “Good. If it’s all right, I’m going to ask some questions. Are you from the compound about a few days’ journey from here?”

  Again, the man nodded.

  “Were the rest of your brothers…like you?”

  The man’s eyes shifted from Robert’s face and stared up into the sky. He shook his head.

  “Were some of them like you?” Robert amended.

  Nod.

  “Are the easterners getting closer?” Henry said. “Why did you desert the compound? We saw what you did to all those people, you sick bastard!”

  And I remembered that it was only days ago that we both sat by and watched another die.

  The girl. A natural.

  “You know he can’t answer those questions,” Robert replied over his shoulder.

  I took a shaky breath and moved to sit down, placing my hands next to Robert’s to help stop the bleeding. I knew there would be no saving him, but it didn’t stop me. He was dangerous. A killer. And despite knowing this, I couldn’t stop myself from what came next. He was a victim just as much as me. He didn’t ask for this life. He was forced into it.

  “What are you doing, Tess?” Henry asked, alarmed.

  “Whatever he is, he’s human,” I retorted.

  I couldn’t help but think of James. He was created by the same council who made the creature before us.

  I opened my mouth to speak. But my words were drowned by a single deafening noise as it pierced the air. I moved to cover my ears as I was hit in the face with something wet, almost as if thunder and rain had simultaneously appeared without any warning. My head felt light. Through the residual ringing in my ears, I could make out the muffled shouts of the men around me.

  I stared down at the chosen one to find his eyes wide open. Vacant. Lifeless. I brought a trembling hand to my face and touched the wetness smeared there. And when I looked at my hand, now covered with the act I did not understand, I saw the blood. I didn’t understand what the blood was doing there. What had happened?

  I looked up at Eric, squinting as the rising sun made it difficult to see, blazing before him like a fire. Henry’s fire—a fire that would go on burning and burning. The need for revenge. The end of Eric’s gun was smoking.

  “I thought you were going to make him suffer?” asked Henry dully.

  “Accident,” Eric replied, his voice indicating it was anything but.

  “Time to move out,” McNair commanded.

  Robert helped pull me to my feet. Once I was steady, he brushed his sleeve across my face in an attempt to clean it of blood. He gave my hand a quick squeeze before he fell in line behind McNair.

  My throat hurt. Burned. I cleared it. “Aren’t we going to bury him?” I asked.

  “Which one? Jones or the abnorm?” Eric sneered.

  And I realized I didn’t know which one I meant, either.

  Chapter 6

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  I could hear his words dancing inside my ears. Tempting me. He always tempted me. Lured me from what was right. Safe.

  As I stared at myself in the reflection of the river, I couldn’t see it. At least not the way James did. There was nothing perfect about the construction of my face, but he always said that was what he loved most.

  “No. You are,” he said.

  I knew it was only a memory talking to me, but I closed my eyes, willing myself to hold onto it as long as I could.

  “I… When the other boys would talk about the female naturals, the Templet
on girls,” he said, “I never got it. Sure, some were attractive, but I never felt that thing. You know. I mean, I would read about it in books, but I never understood it. Then I saw you in the damn piano room. And I felt it. Want. I wanted you.”

  I licked my lips, savoring the moment I knew would next replay in my mind.

  “Do you want to kiss me?” I asked him.

  The tighter I closed my eyes, the easier it was to pretend I was back there in that room with James. The first boy I ever let kiss me. The only boy I was so desperate to kiss again.

  James grabbed me by the arms and pulled me closer. Then he slowly—painfully slowly—leaned toward me. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the mere thought of what was about to happen. When his lips pressed against mine, it was so light I wondered how a kiss could ever be considered a sin. When his hand moved through my hair, I pressed against him harder. My heart sped up. This was the line it was so dangerous to cross. The first boy I ever let kiss me.

  All it took was the snap of a twig branch behind me, and just as I had lost the boy I loved, I lost the memory, too—at least for the moment. I ignored Henry as he approached, closing my eyes, trying to pretend I was back there in that room with James. And for just a second more, I could see his face, so close to mine. I licked my lips, savoring the moment.

  “We have to keep moving,” Henry said, holding his hand out toward me and shattering my recollection. “Here, I’ll help you. The terrain gets a bit rocky ahead.”

  I stared at his hand, and slowly my eyes made their way up his body. Lean. Strong. He never looked like the other compliant boys of the compound. He never knew how to be at rest. My eyes briefly fell on his lips, and I felt my own go dry. I swallowed.

  I missed being kissed.

  The council had spent years convincing my people that women were to blame for our eventual extinction. We had weakened our men through our lust, infected them with it like some disease that had no cure. It was in our nature to be ruled by our emotions and bodies.

  For so long, I tried to deny that I felt any stirring of desire. I saw it as the weakness the council proclaimed it to be. But I couldn’t stop the way desire consumed me when I was with James. He awakened it in me, and I wasn’t sure I could ever go back to the way I was before.

  I didn’t want to go back.

  I missed being kissed. And I was shamed by it.

  The council wasn’t entirely wrong when they proclaimed that these feelings were a bit dangerous.

  Henry pushed his hand closer to me. “Let’s go. The sooner we’re out of the woods, the better I’ll feel.”

  I hesitantly grabbed onto his hand. He gave mine a quick squeeze before leading me toward where the rest of our crew waited, having graciously given me some time alone.

  That night, Henry slept closer to me than he had ever slept before, and I didn’t protest. Our journey to the Isolationist camp had been strenuous. While I welcomed memories of James, when they were gone, replaced by the stress of traveling through the dangerous woods, all I felt was alone.

  I missed him so much.

  I wasn’t foolish enough to convince myself that Henry was James, but it still felt good to have someone near. I had gone so much of my life shutting off any part of me that desired to feel anything, and I never wanted to go back to that.

  Then there was the obvious—I would never see James again.

  I liked Henry. I missed our friendship. We were friends, and it didn’t seem wrong to sleep close to a friend. So when I went to bed that night, I tried to ignore the guilt that still lived within me.

  I’m not sure what woke me in the middle of the night, but when I opened my eyes, it was to find Henry no longer just sleeping close to me—he was right next to me. He lay turned on his side, and I could feel his breath tickling my neck. His pinkie finger lightly grazed mine. Without warning, my whole body erupted in a million little goose bumps.

  A traitorous sigh escaped my lips. Henry, somehow sensing my reaction, shifted in his sleep. He curved his body even closer to mine and his arm snaked around my waist. I could feel the weight of it through my much-too-thin clothes.

  It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. In fact, it felt good.

  I could have moved. I should have moved. But Henry was asleep; he wouldn’t be aware of this moment in the morning. It would carry no meaning for him—it would only hurt me. Except it didn’t hurt. For the first time in days, I felt at peace. So I closed my eyes and enjoyed it.

  The problem with allowing myself to feel was that I always felt too much, and without Emma, I didn’t know who to talk to about it all.

  I only hoped we would reach our destination soon.

  Chapter 7

  I sucked on the end of my sleeve, hoping to get it as wet as possible. I knew no matter how hard I scrubbed my face, it wouldn’t come clean.

  “Stop that,” said Henry, moving my hand from my face. “You aren’t going to get everything off, and now it looks like you slobbered all over your arm.”

  “Any idea what’s taking so long?” Henry asked Eric. McNair had informed us that he would be traveling ahead to talk with the community members, to recap our adventure. Then he would send some men to retrieve us. He left Eric behind for our protection, but I wondered if it wasn’t to make sure we wouldn’t run. They had gotten us out of the council’s territory, but that didn’t mean we were free.

  “This isn’t a beauty pageant. No need to worry what you look like,” Eric said, leaning against a tree. A few days back, the forest had become less and less dense. Whenever I imagined the life the Isolationists lived, I pictured crude huts nestled in some backwoods place. When we were taught about the Isolationists in school, we were told they were heathens, men and women who lived so immorally that they shunned all social conventions. Uneducated. Unruly. Dangerous. I expected the worst. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. They had created their own city. A settlement of houses made from the very woods that protected it.

  Eric had informed me that for years and years, the first settlers scoured for supplies and cleared away buildings damaged by the war. The city’s location was north of where the bombs fell. McNair told us that the community shared several of the larger structures as lodgings at first, but when they gathered enough supplies, they built new structures. They were afraid the old ones would crumble down on them just like the country they’d once belonged to. When I asked how they got food, he revealed that several miles outside the borders, the community operated farms. Every morning those who tended to the land walked miles to the location, rain or shine. Others were given tasks inside the community’s boundaries. If you couldn’t contribute, you had to leave.

  I wondered what I had to bring to the table. Besides the obvious.

  “What’s a beauty pageant?” Henry asked.

  Eric grinned. “One day we’re venturing out into the border cities—real mess they are, but it has to be done sometimes—and we come across this warehouse. The place is covered with paper. Kind of like newspapers but with all these crazy headlines. Aliens Kidnap the President. Government Creating Flesh-Eating Virus. Miss America is Really a Man. So, the boys and me get bored and start reading them. Turns out there used to be these competitions where girls sauntered around in their underwear and men gave them scores.”

  “In their underwear?” Henry asked, a slight blush on his cheeks.

  “Yeah. None of this prim and proper stuff,” Eric replied, throwing a look at the clothes I’d taken from the compound. Gray skirt down to my ankles. White cotton shirt with a high collar and long sleeves. Covered. Hidden.

  “Yeah, before the council had everyone convinced that if a girl showed you her elbow, you’d go so bonkers that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. Poof. There goes rational thought! How can we ever be trusted to control our own emotions?” Eric joked.

  Henry let out a low whistle. “Damn. The good old days.”

  I scowled at Henry as I pulled self-consciously at my shirt, frayed at the edges from
the numerous times it had gotten caught on trees. My skirt was stiff and caked with mud.

  “Don’t worry, Tess, you look fine. Everyone in there knows what you’ve been through,” Robert added.

  That was true. And what they didn’t know, McNair would tell them. I wondered if they would feel I was worth what they’d lost. And then I had to remind myself it wasn’t about me at all; it was only about what I could do.

  I don’t know what I expected. No. That’s a lie. This moment had played over and over in my head throughout the journey: I imagined the Isolationists would line the road as I walked by, taking me in, judging. The men would salivate. Not because I was some great beauty, but because they would see in me their chance to never die. I could bear their children. I would be a prize sought after.

  I never felt that it made me prideful to think these things. I didn’t seek out this moment. I was used to being treated as an object—the chosen ones in Templeton were forced to see us girls as such, to use and abuse us knowing we would never fight against them. I assumed these people would see me the same way. Knowing that even if I spoke out, my only option was to run back into the forest—the unknown.

  But there was no parade. No pageant like Eric had talked about. Henry, Robert, and I followed behind the group of men that had now joined McNair and Eric. While there were a few people milling about, none of them more than glanced our way.

  And Eric was right. No one in this place would care what I looked like. Despite the fact that I had spent the past month of my life on the run, most of the community members appeared little better than I did. Haggard. Much too thin. Clothes too big or too small.