The awakening, p.49
The Awakening, page 49
part #1 of Eve Series
“You’re all free to go,” Eriksen muttered.
Eve’s eyes scanned her comrades and immediately narrowed with anger.
“You sonofabitch, you didn’t even take them to the medical ward?”
“It’s fine, Eve,” Jason said, rubbing his now-freed wrists. “We’re fine. Let’s
just get the hell out of here.”
They filed from the waiting area, finally realizing where it was they had
been taken: they were in the Shelter, suddenly thrown into the mix of soldiers
and technicians, some of whom worked tirelessly while others stopped to gape
at their battered intruders. The patrolmen, rifles in hand, escorted the group back to the elevator and then through the dean’s building, abandoning them
only once they’d reached the front doors.
Sancho looked back nervously at the line of soldiers as he and his comrades
hurried across the terrace. “You know, that wasn’t exactly the warm heroes’
welcome I had in mind,” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.
Jason sighed. “That’s because to them, we’re not heroes. We’re just a bunch
of worthless bastards.”
Percy grinned playfully. “Well, I’ve got to say, I think vigilantism suits us.”
“Quiet, all of you,” Eve whispered. “We can’t talk about this, not now. They know what we’re doing, and they’ll be watching us.”
“So, what do you think we should do?” Sancho asked.
“Lay low for a while. Let things calm down.” Eve looked back at the
patrolmen one last time; they were far away, but still she kept her voice low.
“We’ll figure out our next step later. Until then, not a word.”
The group parted ways when they reached the center of campus. Percy
decided to retreat to his room and relax in the comfort of his luxurious
solitude— “Nothing that a shot of bourbon and a painkiller can’t cure” —and besides, a few scars would only enhance his rugged good looks. Sancho
headed to the medical ward, a decision that surprised everyone, as it was
certainly the most mature option to take. But despite Eve’s urging, Jason refused to accompany him. He claimed it was unnecessary, that Armaan was
just as capable of stitching his hand as the nurses at the ward. Eve knew better
—she knew that he was afraid, that he loathed the idea of being trapped in the
ward for even one more day, and that nothing would ever make him feel any differently.
Eve headed for the Rutherford showers. She stumbled into the washroom
without grace or caution, and the other girls froze where they stood—at the sinks, by the changing benches, in front of the mirrors, their eyes fearful as they stared back at the bloodied chimera. Quickly, they scurried from the
room, pausing only long enough to gather their belongings and wrap their wet
bodies in towels before dashing through the silver doors. Eve welcomed the
isolation and dragged her feet to the now-empty changing bench; with a deep
breath, she peeled her sticky shirt from her body, groaning as the fabric ripped
from her scabbing wounds. She angrily tossed her shirt into the trash, along with her torn jeans, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her bloody knees and
gashed ribs were grisly, enough to make any human cringe, but she had been
beaten enough times to know that these injuries would be gone in a matter of
days.
Yes, she had been here before, staring into a full-length mirror at the trauma
that marked her body. But this time it was different.
Reluctantly, Eve forced herself into the shower, wincing as the water stung at
her open flesh and rivulets of red and pink blood and brown and black dirt
streamed down her body. Each droplet offered its own torment—cutting like a
shard of glass as it hit her skin, burning like sandpaper against her ragged knees—and so she propped her hand against the wall, leaning heavily as her legs became weak. She let her wet hair hang over her face as she hunched forward, her eyes clenched shut as she endured the ironic torture of cleansing
the filth from her body.
How familiar all of this was—the suffering. She felt the water pouring down
her nose and lips and thought for a moment that she could drown, but instead
she took in a single, shallow breath and opened her eyes. Dirt, now mucky and
thick, accumulated by her feet as it slowly filtered through the drain, along with the red pool of water that swirled like silk between her toes. She was clean. And this time, unlike the others, she was restored.
Eve dug through the lost-and-found bin, nabbing a pair of lounge pants and
a baggy sweatshirt and tossing them onto her body before leaving the
washroom. The Rutherfordians stared at her—she told herself it was because of her wet hair and tired face, but she knew otherwise—and she continued past
them, avoiding their gazes as she fiddled with the lock of her dorm room door.
She barged through the entryway and suddenly stopped—the room was
empty, or practically so. Not a single suitcase, diamond, or couture garment was in sight. The floor was visible for the first time since the semester began,
and Madison’s bed had been stripped down to the mattress. The dorm room felt
huge, open, and naked, and though Eve had often wished for such a sight, it suddenly seemed unsettling. She looked down at the end table beside her; there
sat Madison’s room key, its grip adorned with sparkly crystals.
“She moved out.”
Hayden stood behind Eve, her arms folded over the buttons of her pea coat.
Eve rolled her eyes. “Thanks for clarifying. I wouldn’t have been able to
figure that out on my own.”
“You’re welcome.”
Eve sighed. “So, let me guess, she moved in with you?”
“No.”
“Really? But you’re her shadow. I figured you’d jump at the chance to room
with her.”
Hayden gazed at the floor. “She’s living with Lionel instead.”
Eve smirked. “Back at the bottom of the totem pole, are we?”
Hayden didn’t respond. Eve was surprised, as the girl was typically quick
with a barb, but instead Hayden just shuffled through the room and plucked a
small cardboard box filled with pink paraphernalia from the floor.
“I have to go,” she mumbled. “This is the last of her stuff.”
Eve stared at Hayden—at her downcast eyes, her uncharacteristically somber look—and for the first time, she pitied the girl.
“You know, you should maybe think twice about hanging out with Madison.”
Hayden wavered. “What are you talking about?”
“She just may not be what she seems.”
Hayden’s large, grey eyes became small and focused. She took a step toward
Eve, her nose wiggling as she studied each and every inch of her face. After a
moment of silence, she sneered.
“I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to poison me against her.”
“Look, I’m serious. You need to be careful—”
“I’m not stupid, you know. You think you’re better than me, but you’re not.”
“Hayden, she could be dangerous.”
“Stop it,” she growled. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“I’m just trying to help you—”
“I said, STOP IT.”
Suddenly the cardboard box flew from Hayden’s grasp and crashed into the
wall, sending its contents spraying across the floor. Eve gasped, glancing in shock at the random trinkets, now in pieces along the ground, and then at the
limp box that had so abruptly come to life. There was only one explanation for
its sudden movement, and it certainly wasn’t Eve—no, Eve had total control of
her gift. Slowly, she looked up at Hayden.
“Did you just—”
“Don’t say it,” Hayden spat. “Don’t even think it.”
Eve gazed blankly at the mess, still struggling to digest what she had just witnessed. “Oh… my God.”
“You didn’t see anything, okay?” Hayden maintained, her voice trembling.
“You didn’t see ANYTHING.”
Eve looked back at Hayden, her forehead wrinkled. “This whole time?”
“JUST GO, OKAY?” the girl cried. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.”
Eve furrowed her brow. “This is my room, Hayden.”
“Oh.” She paused. “Right.”
Hayden lingered in the room for a moment longer, attempting to gather up
the broken shards of whatever-they-once-were from the floor before deeming it futile. She hurried to the doorway, seemingly eager to be rid of Eve’s presence, then abruptly stopped beside the end table.
“Eve,” she said, resting her hand along the table. “Please.” She paused and looked back at Eve. Their eyes met.
“Please don’t tell.”
***
“I still can’t believe they let us go!”
Sancho flung his body onto Percy’s couch and sank into the folds of the rich
leather. It had been over a week since their assault against the Interlopers and
subsequent run-in with the patrolmen, and despite their better judgment, the group finally agreed to meet between classes in the privacy of Percy’s suite. As
they convened near the HV, circling a celebratory bottle of aged scotch and a
bowl of salt-and-vinegar chips, a long-stifled sense of relief and victory swept
through the room.
Sancho placed his hands behind his head and smiled complacently. “I didn’t
realize I was that convincing. Maybe I should be an actor.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “They knew we were full of shit. Percy’s car was loaded
with guns.”
“I told them we were on a hunting trip.” Percy shrugged, kicking at Sancho’s
legs and freeing a spot for himself at the end of the couch. “If you think about
it, it’s not exactly a lie. We were hunting aliens, after all.”
“They only let us go because, by the sheer grace of God, all of our stories matched up,” Eve said.
“No one told the truth.” Jason squeezed beside Eve on the loveseat and rested
his arm around her shoulders. “I’ve never been so proud of you rotten little liars.”
“We dodged a bullet this time, but they’ll be watching us.” Eve anxiously
picked at her cuticles. “If Furst gets the slightest inkling that we’re still tracking the Interlopers, you can bet your ass he’ll send patrolmen to break down our doors.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, there was a knock at the door. The group
froze, their lips stunned to silence and eyes wide with dread. Percy inched slowly toward the entryway, stepping softly as if desperate not to make
a sound, and with a deep, nervous breath, he gently turned the knob and opened
the door.
“You’re all under arrest,” JJ teased, shoving past the heir and taking his seat
on the couch. “Just kidding, you big babies.”
“JJ, my divine, celestial creature, you’re alive!” Sancho hurried toward her.
“Where have you been?”
“We haven’t heard from you since the Wilds.” Eve glowered. “You didn’t
even come to class all week.”
“That’s because I was trying to appear inconspicuous.” She winked at Eve and shoved a handful of chips into her mouth. “A little bit of distance from you
guys didn’t seem like the worst idea after all the trouble you got yourselves into.”
Eve growled. “They raided all of our rooms. We assumed they found you in Jason’s dorm. We thought you were expelled.”
“Please,” JJ scoffed. “As soon as you guys were taken in, I bolted. Did you really think I’d stick around for that mess like a sitting duck? This isn’t my first time dealing with the authorities—and don’t be all high and mighty with me, because I know it’s not your first time either.” She shifted her attention from Eve to Jason and flashed a critical scowl in his direction. “Or yours. I know all, remember?”
Jason cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad
news, but we’ve got nothing for you.”
“Yeah, Eriksen confiscated everything—our earpieces, our guns, even the
Dirty Sanchez.” Sancho bowed his head somberly. “God rest his soul.”
“And most importantly, they took the torq,” Eve sighed.
Percy grinned, his eyes sparkling with self-satisfaction. “Or did they?”
With a single swoop, he threw his arm beneath the couch and pulled a small,
concealed lever. Suddenly the middle cushion of his couch rose up with Sancho
still on top of it, sending him toppling to the floor. Percy casually stepped over his friend and pulled a drawer from the cushion, opened the leather casing, and
delicately removed a silver, cylindrical device. With a sly grin, he revealed to
the others the secret he’d been keeping for the past ten days: he still had the torq.
“Geez, Percy,” Sancho grumbled as he gathered himself from the floor.
“How many secret compartments do you have in this place?”
“How the hell did you sneak that past the patrolmen?” Eve gasped.
“I have my ways.”
“Seriously, how’d you do it?” Jason pried. “You had to have worked some
magic, because they frisked me.”
Eve nodded. “Me too.”
“And me.” Sancho eyed the heir suspiciously. “You know, a common method
criminals use to smuggle contraband is to stick it up their—”
“For the love of God, please don’t finish that sentence,” Percy snapped.
“Well, how else could you have gotten away with it?”
“I put it down my pants.”
“But they checked my legs, and my pockets—”
“No, Sancho,” Percy groused, pointing at his groin. “I put it down my under pants.”
Jason’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“I did some… well, some tucking, if you will, and I put it in the crotch of my chonies.”
“Oh… my God,” Eve muttered.
“Hey, you and I both know that thing looks like a, well, thing,” he spat. “I figured the patrolmen wouldn’t fondle the family jewels. And if that didn’t work, I hoped that the bulge alone would scare them off.”
Jason laughed. “That’s disgusting.”
“It was genius. And by the way, you’re welcome.”
“Hell, I’m not complaining,” JJ said. “Just remind me not to touch it with my
bare hands.”
Eve turned to JJ, eager to change the subject. “So, now that you have the torq,
can you start coding that virus?”
“It’s going to take some time. I have to figure out how it functions before I
can even attempt to create a compatible virus.”
“Well, whatever you have to do to get that thing working, do it.”
JJ flashed a smug grin. “Yes , Your Majesty.”
“And keep watching the beacon’s transmissions. If something else comes up,
we need to know about it.”
“And then what?” Percy interrupted. “We can’t do anything. Not with Big
Brother breathing down our necks.”
“No kidding.” JJ pulled her scratchpad from her shoulder bag. “You’re on
Furst’s radar in a big way. Over the last week, the Shelter doubled their cameras across campus, and I can tell you, they’re not just looking for aliens.”
Sancho’s eyes bulged comically. “What if they’re watching us right now?”
“Relax,” JJ said. “There aren’t any cameras in this room, or any other dorm
room. Trust me, I’ve checked. Never mind the fact that that would be illegal, but regardless—”
“We have to watch our backs,” Jason cut in.
JJ smiled. “Or I can watch them for you.”
She turned her scratchpad to face the others. Hundreds of tiny video clips filled
the screen, displaying live feeds from across campus. “You can’t forget
my arsenal of tech goodies. I have total access to the surveillance sector, so I
can tell you when you’re in their line of vision.”
Sancho sighed adoringly. “You’ll be like our very own personal guardian
angel.”
“And you can continue to be my very own personal pain in the ass.”
“Speaking of pain in the ass, we need to discuss Madison,” Jason added.
“God, again?” Percy groaned. “We get it, she’s a possessive, psychotic mess.”
“Yeah, well, she may be a hell of a lot more than that.” Jason turned to face the
group. “We found ashes all over that nest in the Wilds—the same ashes used
to write Die Chime in Eve’s classroom. The same ashes—”
“On Madison’s sheets,” Eve mumbled.
Jason cradled his forehead in his hands. “I can’t believe that Madison Palmer
could be an Interloper, of all people.”
“No way, she’s totally human,” JJ countered. “What about all that lovesick
puppy bullshit?”
“Maybe it was all an act.” Eve glanced at Jason. “Hell, maybe she sent you her
underwear just in hopes of getting you two alone together.”
“Wait, an alien sent you his underwear?” Percy asked.
Jason’s face reddened. “Don’t ask.”
“Have you tried talking to her?” Sancho asked. “You know, to feel her out?”
