by Fall, Carly
The subdued glow of Sophia’s brown eyes and Megan’s brownish-red eyes cast the kitchen in a low dim. What was that child doing?
“They’ll see your eyes, Megan,” Sophia whispered, pulling Megan away from the window.
Megan studied her for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right, Mama. We don’t want them to notice us.”
Megan smiled, then wrapped her arms around Sophia’s leg, and Sophia sensed the love in the little girl’s embrace as she ran her fingers through her curls. She couldn’t help but feel like Megan was coercing her into some type of secret alliance against the Platoon.
“They aren’t bad males, Megan,” she whispered. “They protect us from the horrible world outside.”
Megan remained quiet for a few minutes. Sophia heard Micah’s car start up and leave, its tires crunching on the gravel out front.
“I know, Mama,” Megan said with a yawn. “I’m going to bed.”
Sophia nodded, a little feeling niggling in her gut that she shouldn’t trust Megan not go to snooping. “And, Megan, please do not defy Micah and me. Please stay out of the shed.”
Megan glanced over her shoulder and nodded as she went to her room.
Heartbreak also coursed through her as she wondered just what Megan had heard. Did the little female fully understand Sophia’s place in this world? Did she understand what Sophia had to endure? Would Megan one day have to endure the same?
Sophia stared at the floor and chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to run down such an ugly path. Certainly, Micah would never ask Megan to do something like that, to be nothing more than a breeder for their race, but Sophia didn’t understand how their race was to continue unless Megan was involved. Sophia understood and accepted her role, but she hoped Micah would see the brilliance of the daughter he’d brought into this world and not condemn her to the same fate. It would be a terrible waste of intelligence, and Megan certainly would be an asset to the war on the Colonists. However, Sophia and Megan were the only SR44 females left. To continue the race, they would both need to produce offspring. The thought made Sophia’s stomach turn.
She walked through the rest of the house turning off the lights. Glancing into Megan’s room, she saw the little female curled up on the bed snuggled under her pink comforter. Even though she was only three years of age, Sophia couldn’t help but feel her little girl was growing up too fast.
Chapter 25
Sophia woke the next morning absolutely exhausted, the sheets and nightgown twisted around her. She had tossed and turned wondering what Micah had placed in the shed.
The house was quiet, as it was every morning when she woke, but it felt different. Gone was the calm, and in its place a low energy vibrated. It was a little unsettling and she wondered what caused it.
She rose from the bed and pulled on a pair of socks before going to use the restroom. Glancing back at the bed, she wished she could crawl back in, but today they had to prepare a plot of land for the grapevines she wanted to plant. Then she realized she had forgotten to tell Micah to bring the vines on his next visit. “Dammit,” she whispered as she pulled on her jeans and made a mental note to call him later.
As she walked down the hallway, she stopped at Megan’s room and peeked in. The bed was made and her books were picked up from the floor. Sophia smiled; her little girl was such an angel.
Going to the kitchen, she started the coffee maker and went to the living room. Where was Megan?
“Megan?” she called.
Perhaps Megan had decided to play a game of hide-and-seek, something they hadn't done in months.
Sophia smiled and checked Megan’s regular hiding spots: under the kitchen sink, behind the sofa, under her bed, and behind the curtains in the living room. She was nowhere to be found.
“Megan!” Sophia shouted again, racing through the house. “Come out now, Megan! This isn’t funny any longer!”
As she ran into the kitchen, she noticed the back blinds had been opened, and the sliding glass door was not fully shut. Sophia walked over to the window and scanned the backyard, her heart beating wildly.
The shed door stood open a couple of inches, and Sophia recalled Micah's words: It’s dangerous. I would hate to see Megan hurt, and she won’t be as long as you both stay away from the shed.
Sophia flung open the sliding glass door and ran toward the shed as fear coiled in her gut.
Chapter 26
Blake came to consciousness and immediately began praying for death. It felt as though his muscles were being yanked from his bones, his skin slowly tearing from his muscles. His brain had taken on a life of its own, throbbing with such force it seemed as if it would crack his skull in half.
“Oh, fuck me,” he mumbled as a chill raced through his body. Peeling open his eyes, he looked around.
Where was he?
The thick scent of wood and dirt tickled his nose, and he tried to scratch it, but his hands were cuffed to a small metal hook above his head. He was lying on a cot. He glanced around the small space, sweat breaking out on his brow despite his chills. The memories came flooding back, and he realized that yes, he was indeed fucked.
He was at the mercy of the Platoon.
His stomach rolled, and he lurched to the side to vomit on the floor, but he couldn’t rotate over far enough and ended up with puke running down his bare torso. The thick air in the small space made him gag as he looked at the lower half of his body. At least Micah had bestowed a little dignity on him and dressed him in sweatpants. Rolling to his side a little bit, he felt something in his pocket and realized it was his disabled phone from the Saviors. If he had the energy, he’d laugh out loud.
“Ah, man,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his ears. He rubbed the side of his head against the rough blanket beneath him to scratch the itch, and then something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
By the door, a little girl with blonde Shirley Temple hair crouched in the corner. She stared at him in utter fascination, and then fear crossed her round face as their eyes met.
Who was she, and what was she doing here in this . . . shed? He was being held captive in a shed?
He glanced over at the girl again and gave a tug on the cuffs, deciding she was his ticket out of here, or at least a good place to start with information on where he was being held. “Hi,” he whispered, and tried to smile. Hell, even that hurt.
She remained quiet, but tilted her head to the side as if she were studying an odd science project.
“My name’s Blake,” he said, his stomach heaving. He turned and vomited again, this time most of it hitting the floor.
Go him.
“You’re sick,” she whispered. “And you said a bad word.”
Blake nodded, his whole body trembling. Even if he wasn’t cuffed to a wall, he didn’t think he’d have the ability to walk out of the shed on his own accord.
"What are those red dots all over you?" the girl asked. "Are you bleeding?"
He didn't want to explain to the child that no, he wasn't bleeding and that someone else's blood had dried on him.
“Megan!” a woman’s voice yelled from outside, as running footsteps approached his jail cell.
“Are you a human?” Megan asked, ignoring the panicked voice.
Stunned, Blake wasn’t sure he heard her right.
“Megan!”
“What did you say?” Blake asked.
“Are you a human?” the girl asked again, and glanced over at the door.
What type of question was that? Why would she ask that? Unless . . . holy shit. If Micah was an SR44ian, then this little girl could very well be as well. However, he didn’t have time to question her, and he certainly lacked the energy to do so.
“Megan!” The door swung open, and an older version of Megan stepped into the shed, looking around frantically. Her honey-blonde hair hung to her chin, her dark eyes widening when she saw him. She gasped and grabbed the doorway.
Blake c
ouldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was his angel, the one who came to him in her silvery form, the one he only saw when high. “Um . . . hi.” His throat was raw, his voice raspy.
“What . . . who . . .” Her gaze jumped from Blake to Megan, who was still crouched in the corner.
“Megan!” she cried, picking up the girl, and holding her to her chest.
“Mama, he’s sick,” Megan said. "And I think he was bleeding."
The woman stared at Blake a moment, anger settling in her features. “What is this?” she hissed. “Who are you?”
Blake just closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him under despite the violence going on within his body. Of course she wouldn’t recognize him, because she’d been a figment of his imagination. There was no way he actually saw this woman before, and it was simply a coincidence that she looked like his apparition.
A moment passed, and Blake thought he’d been unconscious, but when he opened his eyes, the woman and child were still standing there staring at him. He pulled on his cuffs again, and the woman gasped, taking a step back out into the sunlight.
Just as the door began to shut, he gathered as much energy from within as he could, and called, “Megan! The answer to your question is yes!”
The door slammed, and Blake took one last look around. Sunlight streamed in through the slats, the dusty air dancing in its rays.
He shut his eyes and once again prayed for death.
Chapter 27
Furious did not describe the emotion Sophia felt as she carried her daughter back to the house. Megan wrapped her arms around her neck and settled her chin on her shoulder, looking behind them at the shed, oblivious to Sophia’s anger.
Frankly, she didn’t know who she was angrier with: Micah, for bringing that male into their private space, or at Megan for directly disobeying both Micah and her.
Confusion tore through her as she realized that beneath the spattered blood and vomit, she recognized him. She’d seen him when she practiced her astral projection. She never understood how he could see her, but he always seemed to be in an altered state, so maybe it opened up his mind. Sighing, she didn’t have time to think about how he’d seen her. She needed to deal with Megan and then find out why he was tied up in her shed.
She slammed the sliding glass door shut and winced as it trembled under her hand. That was the last thing they needed—broken glass raining down on them. Thankfully, it didn’t shatter.
She set Megan down, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared down at her daughter. Megan clasped her hands in front of her and studied at the ground.
“You disobeyed your father and me,” Sophia bit out. Her body shook in anger.
“I know, Mama.”
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
Megan continued to stare at the floor, and after a moment, Sophia lost it. “I’m speaking to you, child!” she yelled. “Look at me!”
Megan slowly raised her head. Sophia had expected to see tears, but instead, she saw defiance. For a moment, it took her breath away.
Her little girl’s rosebud mouth contorted into a flat line, and her eyes narrowed.
Sophia’s anger quickly evaporated, as she had never seen her daughter look so angry and upset. Why was Megan so furious?
“What is it?” Sophia asked, sinking to her haunches.
“Nothing,” Megan mumbled, her features melting back to their sweetness.
Despite the fact that something was going on with Megan, Sophia needed to get to the heart of the matter: Megan had disobeyed her.
“Why did you go out there when both Micah and I specifically told you not to?” Sophia asked in a gentle tone.
Megan shrugged, still not meeting Sophia’s gaze. “I wanted to see what was in the shed.”
It was a simple, honest answer. Sophia recalled her night of tossing and turning, wondering the same thing. The only difference was that Sophia took Micah’s warning as truth.
Who was that male in their shed? What were the odds that she had astral traveled to him? Why was he chained up like some animal? Why was he so ill, and what did Micah have planned for him?
“He’s sick, Mama,” Megan murmured.
“I know,” Sophia sighed, recalling the stench of the vomit.
“Mama, he said he’s human. His name’s Blake.”
A light flickered in Megan’s eyes, something Sophia hadn’t seen since Megan was a small child discovering her new blocks and combining the letter sounds together when she learned to read. It was excitement, a thrill of something new.
“Micah said he could hurt us,” Sophia pointed out.
Megan looked off to her right. “Is that why he’s tied up?”
“I-I guess so,” Sophia stammered.
Running her hand through her hair, she sighed. “Promise me you won’t go in that shed again,” Sophia said, standing to her full height.
Megan stared up at her. “Okay, but he’s sick. You need to help him.”
Sophia knew her daughter was right. She couldn’t imagine what that male had done to deserve being chained up in a shed, and he was obviously very ill. His body glistened with sweat, his skin was pasty white, and then, of course, there was the fact that he had vomited all over. Dried blood spattered his skin, but she couldn't tell if it was his own or someone else’s, and she wasn't sure which would be worse.
She did need to help him, despite her fear of him. No, she very well couldn’t just pretend he wasn’t there. In his current state, he looked as though he was on the path to death.
“I know, baby. I know.”
Chapter 28
Blake’s whole body trembled in pain. He hovered in that place between consciousness and unconsciousness, aware of his surroundings, but unable to get to full wakefulness, and sleep eluded him. God, he wanted to nap, but his system seemed to be all over the place. One minute the fever burned him, his body dripping in sweat. The next minute, the chills shook his bones. And his shoulders . . . they throbbed along with the rest of his body, but the ache was different, and he’d probably give his right nut to free his hands, even for just a couple of minutes.
The images of Micah slicing Brandy’s throat played over and over in his mind, and he flinched each time. He heard the door to the shed open, the sunlight scorching his eyes through his closed lids. There was some shuffling, and then he felt a warm cloth on his torso.
The cloth was a double-edged sword. The initial contact was like sandpaper on his skin, but then he realized the dried vomit and blood was being wiped from him, and he shuddered, thankful for the effort. It must be the woman he’d seen earlier, his angel. He peeled open his eyes and looked at her.
She sat on a small stool next to the cot, her concerned, dark eyes raking over him as she pushed her hair behind her ear and gave him a tentative smile. “Hello,” she whispered. “My name’s Sophia.”
“Blake,” he whispered, and shut his eyes. He could practically smell the fear rolling off her. “Thank you.”
She continued her ministrations on his torso, and then she placed a cool cloth on his forehead.
“What are you doing here, Blake?” she asked. “And why are you so ill? Whose blood is this?”
Blake sighed. If she lived with Micah, how could she not know why he was here? Technically, she should be the enemy in this scenario, but instead she was helping him.
What the hell? He needed to get this figured out, but confusion tore through his battered brain.
He didn’t have the energy to answer her questions, so he just shook his head. “Later,” he whispered.
Fresh air wafted through the cramped space and tickled his sweat-soaked skin.
“Is that air too cool for you?” she asked.
“No,” he whispered.
“Would you like some water?”
“No.” Although he felt as if his throat would close up at any moment, his stomach assured him that water was a very bad idea.
“You need to try to drink something soon,” she murmure
d, dabbing his face with the cloth. “You need to be concerned about dehydration.”
Her calm, gentle voice soothed him, and he concentrated on it as it overrode the images of Brandy being slaughtered, as well as taking his mind off the sheer hell his body was experiencing.
A few minutes later, Blake dozed, but wondered where Sophia had gone. She hadn’t touched him in a while, but he hadn’t heard her leave. Then again, reality and he weren’t exactly on outstanding terms at that moment.
He opened his eyes to find her studying him. When their gazes met, she didn’t flinch.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Blake thought about that answer. He considered all the labels he could give himself: ex-FBI, an ex-Savior affiliate, half-Colonist . . . and yes, junkie. In his core, he knew he was experiencing heroin withdrawals. Part of him wanted to beg to get more to take away the pain, but the other half threw down the order that he would fight his way through this and come out the other side clean and sober. At that point, there was a raging debate on which side would win.
But, who was he? He was a renegade without a home, and one who probably wouldn’t live more than another few days. Once Micah handed him over to the government, they wouldn’t have any problems killing him. There wasn’t anyone around to miss him. That was, of course, if Micah didn’t kill Blake himself, but that seemed doubtful, as Micah seemed pretty focused on the bounty.
Blake didn’t know how to answer the question, because there were so many things he had been, but as for his future, there was nothing he could become.
“I’m nobody, Sophia. Nobody.”
“Everyone is someone to somebody, Blake,” she murmured.
“I’m not.”
Chapter 29
Sophia paced the kitchen, glancing out to the shed every now and then. Megan had gone to bed, and Sophia didn’t know what to do.
It had taken her almost all day to work up the nerve to go into the shed, but she’d finally ventured out late in the afternoon. She’d cleaned up the vomit on the floor, and wiped away most of the vomit and blood from his torso. Again she wondered whose blood it was, as he showed no signs of injury. When she had peeked in on him just a little while ago, he looked as though he was sleeping and she didn’t want to disturb him. Blake was one very sick human, and sleep was most likely the best thing for him.
