Saintsville

by Brittani Louise Taylor

  I am awake.

  Once again, in the white room.

  Eve bolts straight up in bed, disoriented. Her breath comes rapidly as she searches frantically for her mother. Sweat beads on her forehead and her heart pounds. Scanning the space, it takes a moment before she realizes where she is. Evergreen. The room with the bear on the door. The Quinns. Beth. It all comes flooding back. Her mother, Adel, is nowhere to be found.

  She can still smell the chlorine of the water in the holding tank, and a phantom ache from the restraints on her wrists. The white room. How cold it was, how small. She feels tainted, twisted, and utterly wrong. These visions seem to be poisoning her, slowly destroying the already-thin line she walks between sanity and total destruction.

  Maybe her conversation with Luca and Martin on the car ride here triggered this particular episode? All the talk about their parents has been damaging. At least that’s the case for Eve. Adel and Orion had always been idolized—her smart, strong, capable mother and father that sacrificed so much in the pursuit of science. But what do you do when the two people that you love most in the world turn out to be nothing but an illusion? They are all smoke and mirrors.

  Warm light flows through the open curtains as Eve starts to calm.

  On impulse, she raises her left hand, turning it from side to side. Pausing, Eve notices for the first time a faint white line on her palm.

  A scar. The same hand, and in the same place where the glass had been in her dream. She shudders, and then—

  Boom.

  The door flies open and her head whips toward the noise. Sure enough, a red-headed blur races over to Eve’s bed, and leaps, landing at her feet.

  “Yay! You’re awake! Good!” Maggie exclaims. “You have to see this!”

  Clapping her hands together, Maggie scoots and jumps to the floor, heading swiftly to the exit. Eve can hear her feet running down the stairs, not waiting for Eve to join her.

  Groaning, the eldest Abbott throws herself back into the pillows. Suddenly, she wants to stay in this room forever. Any encounter with the Quinns only seems to lead to total embarrassment. And, wild guess, whatever Maggie wants to show her more than likely involves them. Her stomach disagrees as it growls loudly. Not quite sure how many meals she has missed, her appetite has come back with a vengeance.

  Giving in, she hurries to the bathroom and is happy to find another stack of clothing waiting. She tries on a sports bra, fitted shirt, and loose linen pants, all of which fit, finishing her look with black combat boots. Evergreen must have a supply closet, or Eve and Beth are the same size.

  Splashing cool water on her face and retrieving her now-cracked glasses from the tile counter, she is pleased to see that her bruises have faded to a brownish green. The small cuts are healing nicely, and the burn from the Snapper is even less prominent. Throwing her hair back in a ponytail, she fluffs her bangs and sighs.

  Maybe at some point in her life she would stop being a hot mess.

  Maggie didn’t really leave her with any specific instructions of where they should meet. Heading from the third floor down, she doesn’t see a single soul exiting any one of the many rooms, but low voices faintly echo from somewhere within the home. The sound of talking and laughing increases, and so does the smell of delicious food, as Eve follows her ears and nose to the kitchen.

  Stepping through the hallway into the open space, her eyes widen in astonishment. She is standing in another large room. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows look out to an open field of tall grass, bending and straightening in the wind. So entranced by the view, she startles when a voice asks her, “Hungry, dear?”

  A plump woman with gray hair, her face full of friendly creases and folds, offers her a plate full of food. Eggs, bacon, breakfast potatoes, and toast. Before Eve can thank her or catch her name, the cook has already turned, heading back to retrieve something from the oven. Looking at her meal, Eve is strongly tempted to sit straight down onto the floor and rapidly shove every morsel into her hungry mouth. That is, until she glances over to the right and notices the large dining table and its occupants.

  Planted in a middle chair, Martin is munching neatly on a few slices of dry toast and reading what seems to be a newspaper. The brainy Quinn isn’t so bad—he would more than likely ignore her presence, not that Eve feels like doing anything but eating. On the other hand, Tate, at the head of the formidable oak slab, scowls in her direction. Stabbing a syrup-soaked waffle, he shoves it into his grinding jowls. His aggressive chewing could not be any clearer that she is not welcome. To the left of Tate are two women she doesn’t recognize. Their shiny, ink-black hair plated into identical French braids. Eyeing Eve, the strangers seem to be evaluating her. She studies them as well, noticing that their clothing is identical to what had been left for her to wear.

  Pulling her shoulders back, she realizes that she is being ridiculous. This isn’t middle school—they aren’t the popular girls, and she doesn’t need their permission to sit at their table. Her appetite at the moment is greater than her need for approval.

  She makes a decision and steps toward them, only to freeze at the sound of two male voices echoing down the hall she had just traversed through. Recognizing one of the two, she suddenly has goosebumps.

  It has to be Luca…but Luca and someone else are in a heated exchange. Eve quickly walks over to the table, choosing a place setting next to Martin, and drops her plate down with a clank. Pulling out her chair, she hurls herself into the seat and begins to eat, not daring to look up.

  “No. No. Riley, my answer is final. Babysitting those brats was bad enough, but not this,” Luca utters heatedly.

  “There is no one else, Luca. Most of your brethren are stationed at their posts. With our dwindling numbers, you and your brothers are the only option,” demands another deep voice, one she doesn’t recognize.

  “Then see who wants to volunteer! I will take up their post, they can come here. What you are asking me to do is impossible,” Luca practically begs.

  “Enough. This is final. If they agree, I am signing off. Am I making myself clear?”

  Then both voices fall silent, noticing the back of the hunched girl silently eating her food. Two pairs of boots start to move in Eve’s direction, and her muscles stiffen. Regretfully, she lowers her fork, and goes to push her chair back when a strong hand stops her. Slowly looking up, she takes in the powerful form of the man beside her.

  Easily six-foot-four and musclebound, his smooth black skin is etched in the same tattoos as the Quinns, but more extensive. Faint black lines climb past his shirt, and all the way up his neck, covering half of his face. Eve has never seen someone more intimidating in her life—that is, until his scarred features break out into a wide, gap-toothed grin.

  “You must be Eve. I have already met the infamous Maggie. I’m Riley, and this is my home.”

  Extending his sizeable hand, Eve gives it a firm shake and finds herself smiling in return. Riley, like Beth, has an easygoing charm. Thinking of the Quinn sister, she realizes she has yet to see her this morning…or Maggie, who asked her to come down in the first place. As if reading her mind, Riley pulls out Eve’s chair, giving her no choice but to hurriedly stand.

  “Time for eating later. We don’t have a second to waste.”

  Riley turns, marching to another doorway to the right of the room which Eve hadn’t yet noticed. On the solid, log-stacked wall hangs a framed oil painting. Romanesque in style, it depicts scenes of war. Horses, spears, swords, and death. Desperate souls fighting for their fragile mortality. Firmly planted in the middle of the wall—surrounded by the painting—is a circular, windowless tunnel. Dimly lit, it dips, hiding where it may lead. Eve glances at Luca. His fists are clenched, as he glares icily at Riley, frozen next to the long kitchen counter.

  He had mentioned “babysitting those brats.” It could only be her and her sister that he was referring to. With that realization, Eve feels her heart harden—her attraction toward him lessening.

  L
uca may be physically impressive, but his total lack of respect is repulsive.

  “Eve, with me please? You too, Luca.”

  Riley is standing in the archway to the tunnel, waiting. Next to him are the two attractive strangers. They had to be sisters, even down to the fake identical smiles they flashed Eve’s way.

  Choosing Riley and the Latinas over one more second near Luca, Eve hurries to join them.

  “Where are we going?”

  Riley’s chuckle reverberates, bouncing off the solid walls as they walk. “You’ll see….”

  Groaning internally, all Eve needs is one more surprise.

  Chapter 21

  As they move deeper underground, Eve’s anticipation grows. The longer they walk, the greater her curiosity. Ultraviolet light shines around Riley’s large frame, throwing him into silhouette as they finally come to what the tunnel is connected to.

  Which is nothing like Eve has ever encountered.

  Her first thought is of laser tag on her seventh birthday. The cheaply constructed rooms covered in invisible ink, alive under the black lights. But she isn’t seven and this isn’t her party.

  This is a training ground.

  They’re standing at the entrance to a large, subterranean gymnasium. Voices yell, and bodies are thrown to the ground as individuals spar. Their barcoded tattoos are crimson and shining. The main commotion seems to be emanating from the center, where a small group has gathered, hooting and hollering over two combatants circling each other.

  Eve’s jaw drops when she spots Beth as one of the two. Her opponent, Rowan. The gentle blonde from last night has vanished. Her hair—pulled back into tightly woven braids kissing her scalp—changes her appearance entirely. No longer soft and gentle, this woman is ferocious. She hadn’t noticed Beth’s tattoos before either, her clothing having concealed her true nature.

  Feinting a punch to the left, Beth slaps Rowan smack in the face with her right hand. Tasting blood, Rowan ignores his split lip and continues to circle.

  Everything next happens so fast. Rowan charges and spins into a roundhouse, but Beth ducks and rolls, coming up behind him. She kicks his back, sending him face-first to the mat. He rolls as well, coming to his feet, and they are once again facing each other.

  Eve and Maggie had both been forced to take martial arts, right up until their parents’ disappearance. Mostly tae kwon do, with a bit of kyokushin and krav maga. Fridays had been Eve’s least favorite, since she never understood why her brainiac caregivers were so fixated on their daughters knowing self-defense. Many years have passed since Eve has been in a studio, but she remembers enough to know that this is no ordinary sparing match.

  This makes Eve and Maggie’s years of forced instruction look like child’s play.

  Rowan charges his sister once more, but before he knows it, Beth has grabbed his arm and thrown her weight into his middle, flipping him over her body. Holding his right arm at a painful angle, Beth has him pinned, and for a moment he resists before tapping out.

  The bystanders roar and whistle, while Beth helps her older brother to his feet. No hard feelings between the two as Rowan bows to her, before grabbing her head in a headlock and gently ruffing up her braids.

  “I didn’t know Beth was a Zapper,” Eve says, more to herself, in awe of what she has just witnessed.

  “Beth is the deadliest of all of us,” Martin states, appearing beside Eve. His calm, almost bored demeanor leads Eve to believe that this is an everyday occurrence.

  The lines on Rowan’s and Beth’s arms dim back to black, the fight going out in them as well.

  “Why do your tattoos do that—thing? I mean, why do they shine like that?” It’s definitely a question she’s been dying to ask, and Martin is the right person to answer it.

  “They aren’t tattoos, exactly. Think of them as…renewable energy. Each line, or bar, is a battery connected to our cells. Our weapons, some you’ve seen and many you haven’t, rely on that electricity as a power source. But like any battery, they can run low, hence us training in this very room. The purple light acts the same as a power outlet, replacing the energy that is being used. We cannot afford to hone our skills and be left weakened—what if there is an attack? This way, we are constantly ready to fight if needed.”

  Completely fascinated, Eve only has more questions. “But Maggie said something about the Snappers being ‘electric vampires.’ How do your weapons, which are made of what they feed on, cause any real damage?”

  Martin, evidently impressed by Eve’s intelligence, is more than happy to continue. “Right you are. But how do you kill the unkillable? You can’t drown, shoot, burn, or crush these mutations. They regenerate. The only way obliterate them is to overload their systems. Send high-voltage doses in a short period of time. By doing so, you explode their cells, quite literally turning them into dust.”

  “But what do you do if your batteries run out?” she asks, “If you’re fighting a mutant, what then?”

  Chills run up Eve’s spine when Luca, behind her, whispers, “You run.”

  Pushing roughly past Eve and Martin, he heads down toward the mats, joining Beth and Rowan. Rolling her eyes, Eve tries to shake off her feelings of foreboding.

  Spotting Maggie, Eve walks down the stairs and onto the mats. As she makes her way over, every voice within the arena grows silent. Face after face observes her, appraises her, judging the glasses-wearing newcomer.

  Eve’s cheeks blossom in embarrassment as she finally reaches Maggie, who, of course, is firmly planted next to West.

  “Why is everybody staring?” Eve inquires, uncomfortable.

  “Why do you think? Our parents are fucking traitors. Sorry to break it to you, Evie, but we’re the black sheep of this joint.”

  “Eve, Maggie, come here, if you would?” Riley’s booming voice beckons to the Abbott sisters. He still stands at the mouth of the tunnel leading back into the manor. Like a king observing his kingdom, the only things missing are a cape and a crown. Beth has joined him and offers them a friendly wave. Confused, the girls cautiously do as they are asked. Walking back across the mat, up the stairs, and into the tunnel once more.

  They don’t make it far before Riley abruptly stops. A single barcode-sized tattoo on his hand glows red, somehow unlocking a secret door. Unnerved, Eve watches as a rectangle of the stone wall lowers, exposing a brightly light room.

  “Someone wants to be King Arthur!” Maggie snorts, noticing the round table and chairs in the center of the square space, the only items contained within. Eve and Maggie look to each other and hesitate before entering, wondering why there’s such a need for privacy.

  As if reading their minds, Riley pulls out a chair and sits, Beth doing the same. He motions for the Abbotts to join him, and they oblige.

  “Don’t worry, the door will stay open. I thought it best to have this conversation away from the others, as it needs to be had, and now.”

  “Whatever we’ve done wrong, it’s Eve’s fault,” Maggie teases, hiding her concern.

  “You’re not in trouble. Well, you are, but not in the way that you think.”

  With that statement, Riley rises, the lights dim, and from the center of the table appears a hologram. Eve and Maggie are dumbfounded as something starts to play.

  It is a recording. Looks to be within a warehouse, a bodycam of sorts. The wearer stealthily moves around a large machine and turns. Other fully outfitted Zappers are behind him, fanning out. He faces forward again, but instead of conveyor belts and machines, there are mutations as well. Eve counts six, identical to the level one from her bedroom in Saintsville. The warehouse fills slowly with their poisonous smoke.

  But it’s the two bodies in the very back, behind the monstrosities, that send a shiver down Eve’s spine.

  Adel and Orion.

  Side by side.

  The bodycam zooms in, and they both have lures around their necks.

  The mutants start to hiss, and the camera-wearing Zapper looks up.


  Clinging to the ceiling are countless more mutants. Packed so tightly together that they look like a writhing black cloud.

  All at once, they let go.

  Both Eve and Maggie scream as they fall, heading straight toward the camera as the feed turns to static.

  Riley brings up the lights, and Eve and Maggie are crying.

  “I’m sorry, but you have to see what we’re up against.”

  Maggie rises and grabs her chair, flipping it to the ground.

  Turning toward him, she screams, “Not that! We didn’t need to see that! They’re dead, right? They’re all dead!”

  “This footage was taken on our first attempt to bring them into custody. Your parents were the only survivors,” Riley states gently.

  Racking sobs have Eve on her feet in seconds, hugging her sister tightly to her.

  “Yes, I am sorry, Maggie. I am so sorry…” mumbles Beth, soothingly. She has gotten to her feet as well, and cautiously approaches. Her role now apparent, Beth is there to provide additional moral support.

  “It was important that you know that what the Quinns have informed you of is true. There has to be no doubt left for us to proceed.”

  Feeling Maggie calming, Eve releases her, and glares at Riley. In her mind, a warning of what they were about to watch would have been appropriate.

  “Proceed? With what?”

  “Joining us. We would like you to enlist in the EMTF.”

  Without hesitation, Maggie utters, “Where do I sign?”

  “Maggie!” Eve exclaims.

  “You saw! You saw what our parents did!”

  “Yes, I saw, but let’s take a moment!”

  Everything is happening too fast. They have only just arrived, and now are being asked to make another life-altering decision. Eve agrees that her parents need to be brought to justice, but she also wants to protect Maggie in the process. If they do this, if they join them, there will be no turning back.

  On the other hand, Eve also knows that wherever Maggie goes, whatever path, she will follow.