“And you, Xaver?”
“Yes,
der Vater
.”
George clicked off the switch, so his conversation couldn’t be overheard. He maneuvered the control until the computer monitor showed the targets framed in red. He looked at Leland, who sat in front of the monitor connected to Xaver’s setup.
“Are you ready?”
His assistant shook his head and rubbed a shaky hand through his locks. “I don’t know about this. If something goes wrong, they could die. And what about the civilians?”
“The boys will not die. They will protect themselves first.”
“The others?”
The doctor shrugged. “Part of the greater good.”
Leland’s face paled. “We can’t let innocents die.”
His assistant was starting to annoy him. “Are you ready?” George muttered, through clenched teeth.
Leland’s lips parted, but he must have read George’s face and deciphered it correctly. The protest died on his tongue and fear actually lit behind the assistant’s eyes. The younger man nodded and turned his attention toward the monitor. He maneuvered the controls until all the targets in Xaver’s room were highlighted, too.
“Remember what I said.”
Without taking his eyes off the screen, Leland gave a curt nod.
Pressing the button on the microphone, he said, “On the count of three.”
The boys reached out both hands, placing them on the shoulders of the civilians.
“One. Two.” Three never came. As agreed, he and Leland pushed the buttons at two sending a command to the M-16s, and gunfire echoed in the rooms below, in short bursts of three, for a period of twenty seconds. When the time expired, the volley died away and left behind muffled screams. George turned on the exhaust fan and the scent of discharged gunpowder cleared away.
Even though the doctor had expected the outcome of the experiment, astonishment still fluttered in his chest. Unable to contain himself, he smiled. Both of the boys still stood, untouched and unharmed. Each room contained one dead subject and one live subject.
Ahron stared down at the female, her body tied to the chair, her eyes glazed over in terror. Blood bubbled from a wound on her chest, and more pooled below her across the white tiles, painting the floor crimson. The young boy’s face held no concern for the woman. No sorrow. Nothing at all.
The subject in Xaver’s room was beyond identification. Instead of a head, a bloody stump sat on the man’s shoulders. The fourteen-year-old didn’t even bother looking at the dead man. Nothing in his expression hinted at horror.
The two remaining subjects’ faces contorted from trying to scream, their cries drowned behind the tape. They struggled against their bonds.
“Two are still alive,” said George. “One in each cubicle. Excellent.”
Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he looked at Leland, who stared at him as though he were an abomination. Leland’s horrified face was drained of all color and on the verge of turning green. His dilated pupils swallowed the blue of his eyes.
Apparently, his assistant didn’t have the insight George’s genius held. Of course, George was a successful Center Child, unlike the failed Leland, so his intelligence and perceptiveness exceeded, by far, his assistant’s scope.
George didn’t like the way the inferior man looked at him. His triumphant smile faltered. “Clean up the mess.”
Stunned, the younger man’s eyes didn’t leave the doctor.
“Leland, come to your senses.”
Leland blinked at the sound of George’s voice. “What?”
“Take care of the survivors, too.”
“Wh-what am I supposed to do with them?”
“Exterminate them.”
Red flooded Leland’s face as he flew to his feet. His hair flipped over his forehead and dangled in his eyes. He pushed it back.
“Kill them? Are you mad?”
Anger swirled inside George, threatening to dissolve his calm demeanor. His lids narrowing, he advanced on his assistant. “I am seriously starting to doubt your ability to stay on as my assistant.”
Leland averted his gaze. “It’s just—they’re human beings.”
“They are experimental subjects. Did you honestly think I would release them back into the population afterward? Even you are not that ignorant.”
“I-I don’t know if I can.”
Dr. Hirch pointed a finger at his assistant. “You can and you will, or I will find your replacement,” he said, the hidden meaning apparent in his tone.
Leland jerked his gaze from the floor and faced the doctor. The younger man’s face paled, white as a sheet of clean paper. Without acknowledging the doctor’s threat, he turned toward the monitors. His hands shook as he typed in new commands.
The doctor inhaled and composed himself. “When you are done, bring the videos to my office.”
“Yes, Dr. Hirch,” he said, his voice unsteady.
George opened the door and walked down the steps into the hall between the rooms.
“Open.”
A click sounded, and the doors swung outward.
He surveyed the rooms. Bullets littered the floor around Xaver’s feet where his shield had stopped them from penetrating. Behind Ahron, fragments of the wall had been blown away. Chunks of wood and plaster lay splintered on the ground. He motioned for the boys to join him. Obediently, they strolled into the hallway.
George glanced at the surviving subjects. Their eyes pleaded for mercy. George’s face took on the expression of a compassionate father. “You will be fine. The Center is grateful for your cooperation.” He stepped away from the door. “Close,” he said, as he moved down the hall.
The doors swung shut, clicking as the bolts slid back into place. More muffled screams followed.
Ignoring the sounds of lost hope, George strolled down the hall toward the elevator. Xaver and Ahron followed.
Although he knew his children didn’t care about approval, as their father, he felt praise was warranted. “I am proud of your work today.”
He pushed a red button and stood back when the doors slid open. Ahron and Xaver stepped inside.
“Your progress is astounding.”
“Thank you,
der Vater
,” they said, in robotic monotones.
He followed and hit the ground floor button. As the elevator doors shut, more shots echoed down the corridor.
19
Rein sat next to Jordan in the elder’s holey—so nicknamed by the original settlers. Resembling a long honeycomb, the name suited the line of holes on the west side of the cavern. Some were bigger, some smaller. Some had been naturally formed; most had been dug out over the years as more living quarters were needed. All of the holes were considered home by their occupants.
Although considered the leader, and the oldest descendant remaining from the original survivors, Jordan didn’t have anything special. A sleeping bag, a few blankets, a pillow that had seen much better days twenty years ago, and a beautiful music box that had belonged to Jordan’s mother. The box had a couple dressed in 1800’s garb dancing to music composed by someone named Mozart. Jordan couldn’t remember the name of the piece.
Rein carefully fingered the delicate box while the haunting music played. Ever since he was a little boy, Rein had loved watching the figurines. He still did, although now, he grieved over the loss of knowledge of classical music along with all the other knowledge lost due to their circumstances.
Rein looked up from the twirling couple to Jordan, his dark skin even more pronounced under the low light, and shadowed by his dreadlocks. His black eyes, which usually held humor and hope, seemed gaunt and tired. Jordan hadn’t been his regular self for days.
“I want to trust her. But, considering where she is from and what she is, it is hard.”
The older man smiled, emphasizing his many wrinkles. “And why are we any more trustworthy?”
Shocked, Rein arched his brow. “What? We’re the good guys.”
“Good guys.” Jordan chuckled. “From your point of view. But we must remember, hers is different. She was raised in a society where perfection is important, where the thought of individuality is considered—well, evil. They consider themselves working toward a common good. At least, that’s what I think she was taught.” He thrummed his fingers against the ragged pillow lying in his lap. “She was taught we’re the enemy and must be stopped. But her being here, her hearing Jeremy…”
Rein twinged at the sound of Jeremy’s name. He couldn’t help it. Jeremy had been like a brother to him. After all, Jordan had raised Woody, Jeremy, and him.
When he and Doc had returned, they had gone straight to Jordan with the news. A small ceremony was held in his honor and for his bravery, but it was hard to accept he wouldn’t be returning.
Jordan reached out and laid his hand on his wrist. “Her listening to Jeremy,” he continued, “and seeking us out, tells us she’s found a flaw within her society. Within her belief system.”
“What if it’s a trick?”
“A lot of wasted energy on their part. They can’t learn any secrets from us. We are a small community with few people, a few weapons. If they knew about us, they would’ve just come and wiped us out.”
Rein nodded. Their community had nothing to offer, nothing of any importance. All they did was survive.
“Now, take me to go meet our visitor.”
Rein wanted to protest further. He still wasn’t sure if Jordan meeting Ellyssa was such a great idea. His objections had landed on a deaf ear, though.
Resigned, Rein crawled from the holey into the passageway. His knee popped when he stood. He offered his hand to the older man and helped him to his feet. Jordan’s bones, however, did more than pop; they creaked like rusty hinges.
“I still want her guarded.”
Jordan patted him on the shoulder. “I trust your judgment. But, she ain’t the first one from the outside world who has come to live here.”
“I know, but she is different.” Grabbing the elder under his elbow, Rein asked, “Are you ready?”
“Lead me to her.”
Ellyssa had just finished the very last sentence of the novel,
Of Mice and Men
, when Mathew stopped outside of the room and spoke to her latest babysitter. She had no plans of doing anything, although an armed guard wouldn’t be able to stop her if she did.
As the guard’s footsteps faded down the corridor, the doctor strolled in, his expression lit in excitement. He eyed the book as she placed it on the table. “So, what did you think?”
“I have never read anything like it. I cannot thank you enough for sharing this with me.” She fingered the leather binding.
“And?”
“And.” Ellyssa thought for a moment.
Someone like the characters in the book could never have existed in her society, where the lack of understanding and compassion thrived. It made her ponder the realities of the world she’d lived in. Mentally incapacitated, undeniably flawed, yet Lennie still brought companionship to George. He served a purpose. The dreams and hopes the two shared… no wonder fiction wasn’t allowed in The Center’s sterile environment.
The characters had made her examine empathy and relationships, expanding her ability to feel. She let the emotions simmer within her, tasting each as it affected her.
“The loneliness, the foreshadowing of killing things one loves. The hopes and dreams living inside men, although it perishes at the end.” Pausing, Ellyssa tried to place a name to the intense emotion. The very thing she lacked knowledge in. Finally, she settled for the simplest of words. “It was sad.”
Mathew nodded. “Yes. It’s part of being human. Of becoming complete. Of learning compassion and sympathy for others beyond yourself. Mostly, to never give up.”
To never give up
. The words repeated in Ellyssa’s mind. She wondered if that was what kept the Renegades going and living in the dank, dirty tunnels. Hope of living freely.
“You’ll love Mary Shelley. It’s a classic.”
“I am looking forward to reading it. Fiction engages.”
Mathew’s eyebrows bunched together. “Say,
I’m
.”
The corner of Ellyssa’s mouth pulled back. “Why?”
“Seems, if you are going to be staying for awhile, you need to stop talking like a robot. Relax a little.”
“I do not think…”
“Humor me.”
She grinned. “All right. If it will make you happy.” She thought about the word, how it would roll off her tongue. “I’m.”
A hint of a smile shadowed his face as steps echoed into the makeshift hospital before the owners appeared. One set was stealthy and sure, the other shuffled.
“Keep practicing. It’ll become second nature,” Mathew said, patting her hand. “You up for some company?”
Ellyssa put the book down and rose from the bed, as Rein and a black man entered. Stopping short, she stared in disbelief. Besides history books, never in her life had she seen a black person. His skin was dark and wrinkled, his eyes black as night. His wiry grey hair bounced freely in tangled clumps. He wore the same dress as everyone else, only his clothes hung off his thin, frail body.
Everything she’d been taught about people of other races surged forward. They were untrustworthy, imperfect. Emotions swirled inside her, confusing her. Unsure what to think, what to do, Ellyssa slipped into her old skin, expressionless, her body poised to defend herself.
Responding to her defensive posture, the smile gracing the doctor’s face fell, replaced by a curious scowl. Rein’s eyes narrowed and his body visibly coiled. The black man stood there, just as relaxed as when he had first entered. He placed a wrinkled hand on Rein’s forearm.
Ellyssa quickly sized up the competition, preparing for their first move. The black man and the doctor would be easily disposed of. Rein would prove a bit harder, but not beyond her capabilities.
Brushing off the old man’s hand, Rein stepped forward, but Mathew popped in front of him with his hands held up, warding off expected hostility.
“Ellyssa, what’s wrong?” Mathew said.
She tore her eyes from the black man and focused on the doctor. “I trusted you.”
Unprepared for her response, Mathew blinked. “Yes. I promised no one was going to hurt you. And no one is.” He turned his body halfway toward the black man. “This is Jordan,” he said, sweeping his arm in introduction.