“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.