Chapter 17
Rage
In a world where time held no meaning as it once had, only the fear of the oppressive darkness prominent, it shouldn’t matter that we seemed to remain in suspended animation.
But I was cognizant of the mission and in a sense the clock was ticking.
The jump drive was secure in a pocket within the sheath of my knife. Whatever was on the drive could not be allowed to get into the hands of anyone else. While Peter had offered no other instructions, I knew it was best to keep the information from Star until we reached our destination.
Knowing her, she’d require we waste time hunting for a computer.
I understood that the king’s power was getting out of control, more people dying daily than ever before, but without the full facts of the need for the mission, I had no real sense of urgency.
Or maybe the honest truth was that I enjoyed spending time with Star.
Even when she tossed out her worst, being with her was electrifying.
Of course there were those who’d say the experience was merely physical, which in part would be true, but she was funny and intelligent, her take on the world entirely refreshing.
In never having known anything but survival mode, living life vicariously through her love of books had created a well-rounded warrior.
In the back of my mind, I’d started to think of her as my warrior.
“I saw my mother’s face in the dream.” Her voice managed to echo in the open space, the only other sound a light ticking of whatever equipment was keeping the bunker powered.
Being alone with her, watching her shift through levels of emotion while fighting her vulnerability around me was something I’d never felt before and couldn’t label.
We’d spent the last hour or more pretending as if the world wasn’t waiting to be saved.
We’d ignored the obvious questions we both had as well as her nagging insistence she had no intention of trusting me.
“Oh, yeah? A premonition about Wren?” I took another gulp of the liquor, trying to remember the last time I’d had a drop of alcohol.
“No, not Carrie, my adoptive mom. I mean she and Tom are my parents, but only because I was left in the middle of nowhere. You know that as well as I do. My biological mother.”
“You hadn’t remembered her?”
She shook her head, twirling the glass she’d found in the cabinet. There were daisies in the glass, faded yet visible. A funny memory hit me.
They’d been my mother’s favorite flower. Or at least that’s what she’d told me when I brought her a bouquet picked from a field behind our house.
Peter was counting on the fact our memories would slowly begin to return. Which was exactly what John had indicated. Was it coincidence that their names were two of the apostles?
Star was exhausted and seeing the bruises on her neck kept anger just below the surface. When I’d found the motherfucker on top of her, trying to rape her, I’d lost all sense of humanity.
A test. Had I passed or failed?
“Peter suggested the reason was whatever had led to me being without anyone. Now I know he meant after abandonment. A way to protect one’s psyche.” She lifted her glass, her nail picking at one of the flowers. “I figured what was the point. The chance of finding out the truth was zero.”
“That’s understandable, especially for a child.”
“Yeah, I know.” She slumped further in the seat, unable to look at me because she seemed lost in her own world.
“I think finding Wren awakened a part of my deep core memory banks. Then somehow your appearance pushed the cobwebs away.” A quick dart of her eyes wasn’t filled with animosity as I would expect.
“In my dream she was telling me about a place called Eden. She often read to me about amazing places since we were stuck in another bunker. That’s where I learned to love books. ”
I didn’t interrupt her, my questions going unanswered. With the vibes she’d been tossing out, I was getting the feeling I didn’t really want to know. She was a tough one, inside and out. My reaction to her and hers to me were unexpected from both ends.
“Things were different before the war. I don’t need to tell you that. You seem well educated as to what the world was like before fire and ice.”
She smiled, which was rare and when she did, she had a way of lighting up a room. “Fire and ice. I like that. What was it like?” Genuinely curious, her expression was one of hope, needing someone to tell her a story.
Which I sucked at.
“Like what you’ve read. Breathtaking. The air was warm with scents of everything from flowers to food. All kinds of food. My father always wanted to live abroad and decided to augment his children’s education by trying various ethnic foods. You do know the term.”
I also liked when she rolled her eyes. “I’ll pit my education about the past against yours.”
Chuckling, I grabbed the bottle of tequila, pouring us both a splash.
While in my mind, nothing had changed with regard to timing of our departure, I was no fool to think she would leave willingly with two people she cared about on death’s door.
“Since we lived in a city that offered any kind of food you could ever considered wanting, every week we went to a new restaurant. Something else I miss. Restaurants. Granted, there are some in Freedom Cities.” A memory of my own I didn’t care to relive.
“There are?”
“Yeah, all run by the government, so I doubt they’re authentic.”
She pulled her foot onto the chair, using her knee as a prop with her arm and head.
“Anyway, we’d have Vietnamese one week, Egyptian the next. I loved it. My sister hated it. My mother tolerated our activities. But I learned a lot and the smells were incredible.”
“You were free to walk anywhere you wanted.”
“Absolutely. There were so many activities, but my favorite was playing catch with my dad.” I could feel the heaviness of my memories weighing me down.
“I don’t remember my father at all. Granted, until recently, I couldn’t envision my mother. But I do remember something about a man who visited at least a few times. She was frightened of him.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“No, but in the dream, she acted like she wanted me to find Eden, not as a desire for me to find a happy place but as a necessity. I wish I knew why. I know what you said and the reason you’re here, but I can’t find it within myself to believe there’s a location left on this earth devoid of the destruction of man.
Peter insinuated such a place a few times, but I know better.
Stories and lies to build hope in a dying people.
Not that I blame him or anyone else for attempting to keep spirits up.
I’ve seen one too many people fall victim to their despair.
I wish the dream was real, but I don’t know what to believe or who to trust. No offense. ”
“I can understand why and none taken, but I hope one day you’ll find it within you to learn that I’m not here to hurt you.
What was lost everyone seemed to take for granted.
Don’t get me wrong, there were issues and when you grow up privileged, you definitely don’t have the capacity to understand how difficult life was for so many.
My mother tried to keep my sister and me grounded while my father attempted to corral those attempting to make things worse.
” I took another swig, uncertain how much further with the conversation I was willing to go.
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if the war had ended peacefully?”
The question was one that had haunted me for one too many years in the beginning. “Not any longer. Doing so only makes you believe that you could have had a part in altering the score. I don’t think anyone could have.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine. What happened to your family?”
While Peter knew who I was, the fact he’d had an opportunity to tell her and hadn’t meant he’d been pledged to keep whatever reason our lives were supposed to intertwine a huge secret. “They were killed.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached across the table, taking my hand into hers. “I really am. Is that why you volunteered for the program?”
The program. A mild term, but the logistics of what those who’d volunteered had faced also no longer mattered. “Yep. I wanted revenge.”
“I also can’t blame you for that. Now that I know I was tossed aside, I would love to see those involved suffer. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but how could you leave a child knowing she couldn’t survive on her own?”
While I had thoughts about the reason, even providing the idea was potentially dangerous. “I don’t know, Star. Maybe because your birth parents felt there was no other choice. If what you dreamt about was true, it sounds like your mother loved you very much.”
She half smiled, lost in a sea of emotions. “Yeah, I think she did.”
We sat quietly for a few minutes. While I could say we were enjoying the time together, I had my doubts that she’d ever be able to place her full trust in me. Why should she?
“You’re nothing like what I thought.”
I chuckled and brought the glass to my lips. “How so?”
“You’re not a true Savage.”
“Some would say those in the program were born savage.”
“While I believe some people are born evil, I also suspect savagery is driven into a person from anger and despair. And greed.”
“Maybe you’re right. And maybe you’re a little savage yourself. You certainly know how to wield a sword, little warrior. I think I’ll start calling you a warrior instead of princess. It suits your personality perfectly.”
She brushed loose hair behind her ear, still fiddling with the flower on the glass. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
When I leaned over, to her credit she didn’t flinch, allowing me to move a few strands of hair stuck to her bottom lip. She lifted her gaze, studying me and almost fearful I would hurt her.
The moment was one that caught us both off guard. In her terms of programming, my fighting abilities had been enhanced, pushed forward above all other thoughts and emotions.