SAFE (3 page)

“Take
these, Penelope,” he said.

I
stumbled back, realizing whatever he was trying to hand me wasn’t something allowed
outside the lab.

“Whoa,
what are those? Dad,
why
do you have these?” He grabbed my right hand gently,
placing it softly over his. The vials rested in between our palms.

“Penelope,
there’s a lot you don’t know. And there’s not a lot of time to explain. But you
need to leave and take these with you…”

Abruptly,
I stopped him in the middle of his explanation, “
What
? What do you mean—there’s
not a lot of time? And leave to go where?”

I
shook my head back and forth, staring at the vials in my hand.

“A
year ago, the Academy had me working on an experiment, another vaccine in case
we ever came across another….plague,” as the word
plague
left his mouth,
it was like he had to force them out, “the other doctors and I made thousands
of them. But I noticed they were leaving the lab without proper authorization
and they weren’t being distributed here, or saved for future use. I dug deeper
and that’s when I noticed loads of vials loaded onto one of the boats shipping
off, somewhere. I don’t know where. However, if they weren’t used here, then
that must mean there’s been another outbreak on the other Land. I stole these
for you and…your…sister.”

Immediately
when I heard the word
sister,
I needed clarification. My dad pulled out
a picture. I grabbed it from him and on it was a girl who looked similar to me,
short, bouncy brown hair and a slim body, but this girl stood in front of a
building not from here. The main, vast, difference between her and I was, she
had no vines.

“Who
is this?” I asked.

My
mom stepped closer and pointed at the picture, “That is your sister, Madeline.”

“But
I—I don’t understand?” I ran my fingers over the picture of the girl I thought
so much about whenever I felt lonely growing up. I always wondered what it
would’ve been like to have a sister to talk to, but never actually thought she
existed. Knowing she didn’t exist. Because that’s what I was told.

My
dad grabbed my shoulders and raised his voice, “Penelope, listen to me. They
are going to come take you tonight. I hoped this wouldn’t happen, but somehow
President Falcon figured out I was supplying medicine to children born without
vines. It was kept a secret so families wouldn’t have to be exiled or executed.
Falcon wouldn’t allow your mother and me to leave this Land, and said he would
kill Madeline if we ever tried. However, he couldn’t allow her to stay here either.
She had no vines. For years, I’ve been going about the research demanded of me
to keep her alive, hoping someday we’d be reunited. But I know now that’s not
going to happen. You need to take these vials and find your sister on the other
Land. If they catch you trying to leave, they will kill you… There must be
another outbreak…” He shook his head and paced back and forth.

“But
why would they kill me?”

Before
he could answer, a loud knock came from the direction of our front door. Immediately,
my dad put his hand over my mouth and said, “Quiet.” He left the kitchen, walked
into the living room, and then peaked out the window. He closed the blinds and
waited a few seconds before responding. “Be right there,” he yelled.

He
motioned for me to come closer and he placed the vials into the backpack my mom
held.

“Mr.
Evans,” a guy’s voice said from the other side of the door. “Please let us in.”

The
voice was too familiar. I knew exactly who it was. I told my dad he was
ridiculous about the whole conspiracy theory thing, and then I walked over and
opened the door.

“Hey,”
I said to James, a little weary.

“Hi,
Penelope Evans,” the guard standing next to him answered. “I’m sorry, but you
failed the testing and I have orders to bring you to the Academy. Please. Come
with us.”

How
was testing completed so fast?

I
looked at James, but he didn’t acknowledge me, instead he kept his hands behind
his back and stared straight ahead. The vines wrapped around the guard’s biceps
and chest, leaving little room for doubt about his strength. I couldn’t resist
him even if I tried—even if my dad tried. He was much stronger than we were or even
both of us put together.

“Okay,
of course. Would it be all right if I grabbed my bag?”

The
guard nodded and I turned around to give my parents a hug, hoping they were
wrong and I could talk to President Falcon. Sort this whole misunderstanding
out. My dad squeezed my shoulders tight, gave me a look with his eyes,
undeniably shaken, then he placed the backpack over my shoulder. My mom was
next to him. She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before
saying I love you. Then I turned around and walked out the door, not looking
back. Not wanting to believe their goodbye was some sort of omen hinting at me
that I’d never see them again.
This is all one big misunderstanding
, I
thought as I passed the door.

James held my right arm firmly and the other guard
held my left. I was sandwiched in between the two of them for the short
distance to the car. A few neighbors peeked through their windows, other than
that, the streets were empty—everyone keeping clear from the diseased being
taken into holding. Nobody wanted near anyone who might transfer something that
could kill them. I so wanted to be amongst the people scrutinizing out the
window instead of the one being marched to the car. The feeling of being a prisoner
clenched my stomach, or was that the sickness I had? No. I felt fine. I
wasn’t
sick. And they would see that too. Until then, I’d do exactly what was asked of
me, without question.

The
guard on my right released my arm and James opened the rear door of the car. He
ducked my head down with the palm of his hand, his fingers like a spider on my
scalp. I crouched lower, careful not to hit the roof as I climbed in and sat along
the smooth interior. The seats were dark and felt like soft leather. There wasn’t
much lighting inside, adding to the eerie feeling already consuming me. I tried
breathing deeply to sort my thoughts from their collective mess. I wasn’t good
in tense situations. My heart beat steadily, but heavily, and the pounding from
it was like a boulder in my chest, making it harder to breathe. James shut the
door with more force than necessary and disappeared around the back. I looked
ahead and saw another guard sitting in the passenger seat—just as big as the other
one who walked me, marched me, to the car. He was sitting in the driver seat.
The passenger guard was shirtless with a gun slung across his chest, filling in
the rest of the space between him and the dashboard. A second later, a
translucent screen projected from the center dashboard, he tapped a few
buttons, and an icy blue button lit up underneath the screen. He pressed his
thumb to it. Immediately, the car hummed to life and I heard the door to my
right shut. I looked over; James was sitting directly next to me, staring
ahead. Not blinking. And not talking to me.

I
knew his rule about talking, but if there was ever a time to break it, that
time was now.

I
glared at him as the car slowly pulled away from the curb. Still nothing. No
response.

The
car glided around the corner of my street and we were only a few blocks away
from the Academy. The car was silent and my senses kicked into overdrive,
breathing in a nasty smell of sweaty, unwashed individuals—repulsive. I wanted
to puke, but not from the odor, from my twisted, nerve-ridden stomach.

My
seat started getting warmer. My body radiated anxiety all over, my hands began
sweating uncontrollably, and I stretched my fingers out from their tight grip.
When I opened my palms, they were met by cooler air.

 I
shuddered when James, who was still staring straight ahead, suddenly gripped my
hand. I glanced down to see our hands as one and then he broke his grip from
mine. A foreign object was left crumbled in the center of my palm. A piece of
paper. I looked over at him, but still no response. As I opened the piece of paper,
the tiny words
stay down
were jumbled hastily across it.

I
didn’t understand and looked up just in time, observing James’ elbow slam into
the guard’s head in the driver’s seat, smashing the driver’s temple into the frame.
Glass shattered everywhere and then James head-butted the guard sitting in the
passenger seat, who had begun turning in response to the turmoil. Instantly, that
guard threw his hands up behind him over the headrest, grabbing James around
the neck. The force he exerted looked like it would tear James’ head from his shoulders.
James responded by throwing himself forward over the guard’s head, his body now
snug and horizontal against the roof.

All
of this happened within seconds, and then the driving guard grabbed his gun
from around his chest. The car weaved side to side, knocking me around like a
ragdoll.

“James!”
was the only word I managed to yell—trying to warn him as I hit the door
further from me.

James
shoved his left foot into the jaw of the guard and then another swift kick to
his side, throwing the guard’s body clear through the driver’s side door, flinging
him out onto the pavement. Instantly, the car hummed to a complete stop and I
looked back and saw the guard lying next to the car door, sparking from
skidding against the pavement—the guard looked mad.

I
looked back at James and the other guard, who still had a tight grasp on his
neck. He rotated his body, spinning his head from the guard’s grip and then he grabbed
the guard’s arm, pulling his finger away from the trigger of his gun. As he
anchored his weight against the seat, he tugged the guard and flung him out the
driver’s side, landing him feet from the first guard. However, this one had a
tight grip on James’ arm and had taken him along for the ride.

All
three were now on the pavement—mad.

Immediately,
James flipped his body off his stomach and hovered inches from the two guards.
A split second passed, James grabbed the driver’s gun, and held the guard’s
finger on the trigger. He shot four times into the passenger guard’s thighs. A
loud moan burst from the guard’s lips and as James turned the gun onto the owner
lying underneath him, the butt of a gun struck James in the head, knocking him
backwards as the guard jumped up. His face was streaked with black blood
pouring out of his scalp. He stumbled on his feet and tried regaining his
balance, and then he aimed the gun at James.

I
was still in the car, having watched the fight transgress, and I knew James was
about to be shot, killed in front of me. I couldn’t react, not even to open the
door, warning words were stuck in the roof of my mouth. I didn’t have time to
think. I just watched—in horror.

The
guard’s gun wobbled and he pulled the trigger. The shot zoomed in a straight
line at James’ head. At that exact moment, James fell backwards, not in
reaction to being shot, but instead he arched his back swiftly to the ground
behind him and grabbed a knife from his leg. He flung his weight forward, chunking
the knife from his hand towards the guard.

The
knife caught him directly in the neck. His gun immediately dropped down to his
chest. Blood squirted from the wound as he yanked it out and fell to his knees
in front of James.

James
ran over to the other guard, who was grabbing his legs where he was shot. He
moaned and screamed obscene words into the air, not paying attention to either
one of us.

“I’m
sorry,” James said to him. “I had no choice.”

Then
he yanked the gun from the livid guard, broke the strap from around his body, and
tossed it into the yard next to him. After, he moved over to the other guard
with the knife wound as he gurgled beneath the dark blood coming from his mouth.
The man wasn’t dead and James grabbed his knife from the ground. He hunched
over the guard with his back towards me and when he stood up, the guard’s gun
now hung around James’ neck and something bloody was in his hands—which were now
also covered in blood.

Within
minutes, my eyes saw everything take place, but my mind couldn’t catch up nor
comprehend. I sat in the back of the car, holding the side of my head from
hitting the door. Both guards were on the ground and James marched towards me.

He
climbed into the driver’s seat and horrifyingly, for a minute, I thought,
Am
I next?
Was he going to kill me too? Of course he wouldn’t. I knew that for
sure. But I had the feeling the man in front of me was someone else, not James.
He looked like James. He was James. But... he also just killed a guard and shot
another. Now what? Logically, I knew it was him. Emotionally, I was conflicted.

Without
saying a word, his bloody hands came up to the icy blue button and he pressed a
severed finger, cut from the guard’s hands, against it. Instantly, the car hummed
back to life.

James
yanked on a handle, and a metallic bar slid out from underneath the dashboard.
A row of circular lights gleamed in unison as a wheel projected from the top.
James grabbed it and began driving away from the scene—uncontrollably.

I
looked outside. Nobody was tending to the guards. The noise from the gunshots
was unmistakable, and I knew others would soon be on their way if they weren’t
already.

The
car hit a few curbs, bouncing off the sides back into the street. As James sped
up and glided, turning left, the rear hit a few other curbs in response to the
speed.

I
wasn’t sure where we were going; it was dark and not many lights lit up the
streets ahead.

After
a few more minutes, James had better control over the car and neither one of us
spoke. Thirty minutes passed and we were a long way from the Academy. I looked
behind us but nobody followed.

We
headed further and further away from the Colony.

I
didn’t know how wide the perimeter ran along our Land, but I was positive we’d
have to reach it soon.

James
took a few lefts, heading perpendicular to the direction we had been driving.

The
blackness encased us; the only light in our direction were the ones beaming
from the headlights of the car.

I
finally inched up the nerve to ask James what was happening. I opened my mouth,
about to utter the words, when James’ body began slumping to the side and the
car slowed down. I reached forward over the headrest to grab him. But he kept sliding
until he was completely down across the front seat. The car stopped.

I
peered over further. I couldn’t see it before; the shirt he had been wearing
was black. It camouflaged the blood puddling in his lap. I shoved the drenched
shirt up over his head, and he groaned in response.

 He
had
been shot. Blood soaked the seat.

I
opened the rear door, quickly ran around to the front, and climbed in over him.
I pulled his shirt back up, observing a hole from where a gunshot pierced his gut.
I leaned him forward, he groaned again, and I examined his lower back with my
hand.

I
held my breath as I felt around. But I couldn’t find another hole. No exit wound.

“James,
can you hear me?” I lowered my face directly in front of his as he lay unmoving
on his side against the back of the seat.

He
was weak, but he nodded.

I
looked around, nobody could help us. We were alone.

“James,
I don’t know where we are. What are we going to do?” I started to panic—more
than I already was.

I
climbed back out of the car and walked over to the trunk. A small, metallic
button sat in the center of a latch. It looked like another lock. At least I
thought it did. I had never been this close to a car before.

I
pressed it with my thumb, but it didn’t open.

I
pressed it again. Nothing.

DNA,
I thought.

I
quickly ran back to the front of the car, grabbed the finger lying on the floor,
then ran back and pressed it firmly to the same button.

Suddenly,
I heard a pop of suction and the trunk smoothly rose.

I
began searching…for anything. There wasn’t much in the back. I tossed around a
few useless items: shirts, pants, shoes, a large knife (too large), and some wrinkled
papers. There wasn’t a first-aid kit. If he lost too much blood before his body
regenerated, healing the wound, then he would fall into a coma. And he couldn’t
regenerate with the bullet still in his body. I had to get the bullet out. I
had to stop the bleeding soon, or he’d die.

I
closed the trunk and ran back around the front. James was unresponsive to his
name.

The
road we were on only left two options; we either go back or go forward. However,
I had no idea what streets to take that would lead home—not even sure if that
was the best place for us right now. The other option was to keep driving
forward and hope James had a plan, and I would somehow drive straight into it.
Maybe somebody was waiting for us?

But
there was one vital problem—I had no idea how to drive.

I
pushed James’ legs, scooting him as gently as possible over to the passenger
side. The weight of his body made it easy to push carefully; he was too heavy
for me to move any faster.

With
the severed finger in my right hand, I gradually forced the tip onto the icy
blue button and the car hummed to life again.

Now
what?

I
grabbed the translucent wheel and felt the car jump forward. Startled, I took
my hands off the wheel, and the sound of the car halted. This time, I grabbed
the wheel gentler and the car hummed to a gradual speed. I was careful not to
press too forcibly on the wheel, which was harder to do than I thought. My
natural response to tense situations led to me being tense all over and I
wanted to grip the wheel with all of my strength—releasing some of my worry
upon the animated object.

We
weren’t driving at a fast rate, but nonetheless it was steady and constant—safe.
My hair whipped me in the face from the wind flying through the doorless side.

After
fifteen minutes, the road came to an end. A dirt path on my left appeared as a
possible entrance leading somewhere. Also straight ahead of me was a dirt trail
worn between overgrown foliage and it didn’t look to lead anywhere in
particular, probably closer to the perimeter.