Some seasonings were designed to enhance a meal’s flavor, some provided essential minerals. The reason military personnel ever stepped foot in a kitchen was to use the special seasoning, which, as the State liked to say, caused people to die naturally in their sleep.
The drug didn’t kill—or at least not in the dose he administered—it just put them into such a deep sleep that they appeared dead. Once Security confirmed and called in for disposal, their body was taken by the military or sent for immediate incineration.
Each evening, he would check his tablet for a list of names sent through the secure line. It was rare for him to season multiple dishes a week, but sometimes circumstances called for more.
Even though he stayed at each kitchen for a few years before transferring, he never formed attachments, even though it was permitted. He couldn’t bring himself to put in the effort, not when he knew that he could be called back to the State House at any moment.
He long ago stopped trying to fit in, stopped trying to pretend to be normal. He would take on each new assignment and work his posting without interacting with the others around him until it was time to move on.
The State called his position a phantom because of the potency of the drug he administered—an angel of death that came swiftly in the night. The drug may have earned the title, but he felt his lifestyle truly fit the name. He didn’t exist. It was as though he lived in solitary confinement while walking amongst the living.
He could never refrain from looking at his assignment’s age. Most of the people he put into retirement were the same age. His age. With every meal that arrived for him, he questioned if it was his last. He questioned if they sent another phantom to retire him as he had done for so many others.
His life was meaningless.
The State had strung him along with promises of promotions when, in reality, this position was for the lowest ranking personnel. It required little skill. He had to check his tablet, remember one name, and use the correct bottle.
He often pondered how his life could’ve gone so astray. His actions made sense; he thought he had taken all the correct steps. After twenty years of his visible confinement, he wasn’t so sure what was right anymore.
Once he finished his shift, he sat down on the sofa and retrieved his tablet. As per usual, a message came through the secure line. He opened it and his mind nearly couldn’t comprehend its contents.
New instructions, but they were not what he had expected. There was no name listed as a target, and they weren’t moving him to another apartment either. The message was to leave his posting in the morning and travel through the military underground, returning to the State House. He was to have a meeting with the Head of State.
He wished they would have called him in that evening. Why make him wait out the night knowing his life was about to drastically change, or end.
He had not heard from the Head of State since the day he’d been drugged and whipped. Part of him wondered if he was being retired, or if they’d actually found a useful assignment for him. He fought down his emotions, trying to keep from feeling excited.
So much of him wanted to believe he was being called back to work with Freya again, but ten years ago he had given up on the concept, thinking it was nothing more than a delusion. But a meeting with the Head of State? It had to be about Freya. The Head of State wouldn’t appear in person for anything less.
He spent more of the night pacing his confined apartment than he did resting. When the sun shone through his window, he knew this was the last morning he would rise in an apartment in independent living.
There was only one personal item he intended to pack. Over the years he had slowly saved up the scrapings in the bottom of the State’s seasoning. He didn’t have a plan of how to use it, but it had given him a sense of control.
It was still too early to leave for his meeting, but he would rather spend his time in the military underground than this apartment any longer. He slipped the powdered drug into his pocket and left his apartment and his life as a phantom behind.
His mind was numb throughout the long walk back to the State House. He didn’t hustle in his journey as there was no need. A casual pace carried him from his former dwelling back to the main hub. As much as he had never taken a shining to the underground, the familiarity brought great comfort to him. It was a fresh beginning, or an end, but at least it was something.
He walked the length of a few extra stretches of hallway to kill some time until the appointed meeting time. With a curt knock, a voice called out to him that sent chills down his spine. He knew that shrill voice even through a closed doorway. He thought Dr. Rhetta would be dead by now. At least, he had hoped she would be.
As he opened the door, a strange feeling of déjà vu came over him. To see the pair of them sitting together, in their usual places at the small table. It felt all too familiar, and wrong at the same time.
The Head of State looked so old Lewis questioned how he was still alive, as though he might explode into a cloud of dust at any moment. Dr. Rhetta’s once inky hair had turned silver; her deep eyes were clouded yet remained just as piercing.
Wordlessly, Lewis pulled up his seat at the table and wondered if he looked as old to them as they did to him. His once taut skin was puffy, especially around his eyes and chin despite his muscular physique.
The Head of State smiled but looked tired. “Lewis, how nice to see you again.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m happy to be back.”
He chuckled; his eyes gleamed with the same boyish charm he had in his younger years. “I’m glad to hear it. I hope you haven’t gotten rusty in the time you’ve been away. We’re going to need you to be at your best.”
“I won’t disappoint you, sir.”
Dr. Rhetta casually rested her chin on her hand, leaning forward onto the table. “Lewis, I’m sure you have pieced together on your own that we have called you back to work with Freya once again.”
He put all of his focus into his breathing, keeping it even and ensuring he didn’t have any sharp intakes of breath. He had to remain calm.
“It’s not often that the Head of State is involved in mission assignments.”
The Head of State laughed. “Yes, I don’t stick my nose where it doesn’t need to be. But this particular mission has taken a delicate hand. I’ve needed to oversee every aspect of it. And now, I’ve turned to you with high hopes that you can once again amaze us and pull off the impossible.”
Lewis raised his eyebrows. “Wow, I didn’t realize I was so valuable.”
He couldn’t contain the sarcasm that slipped into his response.
“Lewis,” Dr. Rhetta began, “I cannot explain to you how much we have riding on this mission. We’ve been preparing for this for over fifty years.”
Lewis blinked rapidly.
50 years?
He knew this mission was important, but he didn’t realize they had put all of their resources into this one task.
Maybe this wasn’t all for nothing.
It was humbling, intimidating, exhilarating. Maybe what he usually thought of as a wasted life would come together in the end. A slight glimmer of hope ignited in his core. “Great, when do I begin? What will you have me do?”
“I think it’s best to hear it from me,” he laughed. “You might not believe it if someone else gave the order: I need you to kill me.”
Lewis flinched but quickly regained his composure. He had sent so many into retirement; he didn’t understand the relevance of such an action. There were plenty of phantoms placed at different kitchens. Why did it need to be him?
“When you kill me,” the Head of State pressed on as though expecting Lewis’ unspoken questions. “You will not do it as a phantom. It will be much more complex than that because you have to kill me at the right time, under the right circumstances.”
Lewis swallowed the scorching air in his throat. Part of him wanted to get a glass of water, and part of him could never trust the contents
in that glass again. “I can appreciate that a proper replacement is required, and certain protocols need to fall into place first. But what does Freya or our mission together have to do with this?”
“Lewis, we would like Freya to become the Head of State once Victor is gone.”
Wow. Ursa was right. This was always Freya’s mission. She will get what I always wanted.
His mind spun as he tried to take it all in.
She’s not even loyal.
As though the Head of State could read Lewis’ expression, he explained. “Yes, we know she is a part of the rebellion, thanks to your shared mission. This is what we want, Lewis. We need to give the rebellion a false victory. Freya will become the Head of State and lead them into their destruction.”
Dr. Rhetta’s eyes drilled into Lewis. “You see, the rebellion is going to overtake the transport device. They will seal themselves off from the State, claiming the colony world for their own. We want this to happen to cleanse our people of the infection the rebellion spreads.”
Lewis’ head was swimming. Since he became involved with Freya, he constantly questioned if they were lying to him. If they were promising promotions when in reality he was disposable. If Freya could destroy the rebellion, this was the most important mission in the history of the State and for some reason, he was selected to take part.
“What can I do to be of assistance?”
“Freya is being moved back to the State House, and her apartment will be over the military underground access once again,” the Head of State began. “We want you to go to her and rekindle your friendship. Be her friend, her lover, her emotional support.”
He licked his lips, which felt like sandpaper dragging across a stone. “I still feel a little unclear of your plan.”
“Lewis,” Dr. Rhetta began, “Freya needs your support. You need to build her up and make her think she can become the Head of State. This is why we had you beaten, and I once again apologize that I didn’t give you the correct dosage. We need you to convince Freya that your loyalties have shifted toward the rebellion. We want you to say things to her that are in alignment with that ridiculous cover story the rebellion was using—that they want the government to change peacefully.”
“Tell her you have come to this conclusion on your own from how much the State has made you suffer, and that you are plagued with guilt for your hand in Ursa’s death. You will stroke her ego and give her the support she needs to believe in herself, and when you assess the time is right, you will kill Victor.”
“Well,” the Head of State interjected, “we would prefer it if Freya killed me herself, and I will do everything in my power to provoke her to do so. But, we both have our doubts. I don’t think she has the spine for it. If you know it’s time for her to take power, then you need to come and kill me.”
A numbness washed over him. After all these years, there would be no promotion. This was his last call. This mission was of the highest caliber, but not one he would live through.
At least I get to die while doing something valuable, instead of being retired because I’m old. I get to be with Freya one more time. And this time, I’ll make it count.
Despite their confirmation of Freya’s betrayal, it didn’t change how he felt about her, especially not when the State did it to her. She became a tool for the State, just as any other military person. The only difference was she did it all in ignorance.
Chapter 24
Lewis
The Head of State was always former military. Until now. Even though the votes were uncast, the mere concept that a Council member with only one undercover mission being in the electoral running caused a wildfire to rage through the military underground.
Freya was a gardener. Becoming the next Head of State was the obsession of every military personnel who lived past the age of 40—the ultimate reward for a life of service.
Dr. Rhetta had messaged Lewis to inform him of Freya’s relocation to the State House, but it wasn’t necessary. Everyone knew what Freya might take from them.
Since his reassignment, he spent most of his days lurking around the firing range, hoping for the chance to reconnect. Before long, luck shone down on him. As he approached the firing range, the lighting above the staircase was odd. He found Freya sitting at the top of the stairwell, alone.
Maybe it was the shock of learning she was in the running to become the Head of State, or the nostalgia of returning to live independently inside the State House, but Freya opened up to him when he found her, and even later let him sleep next to her in the tiny sofa-bed.
It had all been going according to Dr. Rhetta’s plan, but what about him? It was clear this mission was meant to be his last. Once he assassinated the Head of State, he knew there would be no choice for him but execution. He spent most of his free time, either thinking of Freya, or reflecting on his life.
When he was young, his heart wanted to serve his government; his ego desired promotions. Now that his death awaited him around the corner, he wondered if it had all been worth it. Yes, his actions would help protect the State, but it was getting harder to care about the State’s success when he wouldn’t be alive to see it. In the end, he couldn’t discern if the State was really worth dying for.
There was one simple truth that continually ran through his mind. The only part of his life he had truly enjoyed after his military training was his mission with Freya.
The evening was drawing near. As she would soon finish working in the grounds, he headed toward her room, as assigned. But his assignment was the last thing on his mind.
Yes, he had to kill the Head of State and face death himself for doing so, but this time, right now, it was an opportunity to have one last moment of joy before his end. He’d do almost anything to reset their relationship, take it back to what it should have been, as he realized for the first time that he was truly in love with her.
He took a deep breath, threw back the trapdoor, and walked right to her, grabbing her and pressing her body against his. He kissed her passionately while keeping a firm grip on her body. At first she didn’t respond; she even flinched in surprise. But soon, her hesitations melted away and she kissed him back. She kissed him with the same hunger he felt for her.
Desperation manifested in his core. He abandoned all thought and let his impulses take control. He needed her. He needed her more than oxygen. He grabbed her so intensely, the top button of her uniform popped off as he tore at her clothing.
Freya pushed him away. Her hands slid onto his chest. “Is this such a good idea?”
He gently cupped her face in his hands. He could see her desire burning behind her eyes. This needed to happen. For both of them.
“I don’t know if we’ll have many other opportunities like this. I don’t even know if we will live through this.” He kissed her again, trying to make her understand his urgency. “Please, make love to me.”
As he kissed her, her body melted into his. While they made love, he abandoned all inhibitions and completely lost himself in her. It was pure ecstasy. His entire body tingled in both excitement and pleasure.
Lewis lay on his side with one arm supporting his head. He lifted his fingertips to her face, gently tracing his fingers along her cheekbone and jaw, her soft subtle lips.
She had changed, yet in his mind was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her once taught glowing skin was now showing her age. Bright splices of gray peppered around her temples. Laying next to her in this bed was the happiest he had been in the last twenty years, maybe longer.
Truthfully, he’d never been this happy before.
As they lay together, she gently traced her fingertips over his skin, discovering all of his tiny scars. Part of him burned in anger. It seemed that no matter what, Dr. Rhetta was spot on. They needed Freya to believe he was genuine in his cover story, and he had to suffer because of it.
At least I get this moment here with her again. I would take a thousand beatings for just this.
�
��I love you,” he whispered, unable to contain the feelings burning inside any longer.
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away from him either. He wasn’t sure how to interpret her silence. So much of him wished she felt the same way, yet he also accepted that regardless of her feelings, it didn’t change what he held for her in his heart.
He wrapped his arms firmly around her, wishing he could hold her forever. “Can I sleep here with you again tonight?”
She nodded in return.
His imagination drifted. What would their lives be like together if they weren’t about to be separated? Could they be lovers when she became the Head of State? Would her heart eventually heal from the scars the State caused her and love him in return, as she once loved Colin?
Conspired: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The State Series Book 6) Page 15
