Elite

Insistent that talking was not safe out in the open, Jules led Sylvie across the yard and into the dark building. Jules told her it was an old school house from before the Disintegration following the Technology Wars. Inside, a long hallway lay before them armored on both sides by hundreds of metal lockers. Some hung open, rusty hinges holding on like desperate little fingers. While others were shut tight, their secrets concealed behind tiny metal doors.

Sylvie followed Jules through the blanket of shadow that was strewn across the floor, her eyes ever watchful for the places where light managed to sneak in through the occasional open door. Passing one, Sylvie peered inside half expecting to find something that resembled her schoolrooms back home, but she was met with a dismal scene.

Forgotten papers littered the floor like piles of discarded confetti; words once so important had faded just like the memories of those who had written them. Sylvie found herself wondering how different this place must have been when the lights had glowed with life and the hall rang with the laughter of children. The lack of both made her feel cold.

“Where are we going?” Sylvie asked after they passed a handful of similar rooms. Each had seemed as opportune as the last for talking privately, but Jules had not so much as slowed her purposeful gait.

“To our room,” Jules replied as the two of them rounded a corner entering a small alcove off the main corridor. At the other end of the short foyer were two open doors sitting side by side. The rooms beyond them had both been cleared of their archaic desks, which now lined the walls next to them in tall stacks. “These are the unmarried dorms.” Jules gestured toward the empty spaces. “Families get rooms of their own, but everyone else will stay here.” She ushered Sylvie toward the opening on the right. “Women are assigned to this room and the men’s bunk is next door.”

Sylvie entered the room, taking note of all that had been left behind. On the far wall was a long, low counter that ran the full length of the room. Equally spaced across it were small sinks that appeared to be fastened with strange nozzles protruding from the sides.

“They told us that this was once used as a science classroom,” Jules said, noting the strange way Sylvie was staring at the rusty fixtures. “The sinks still have water and gas which will be convenient for cleaning and cooking. And there is a bathroom with showers at the other end of the hall. We definitely could have ended up in worse places.”

As Jules rambled on, all Sylvie could think was she had never been in a worse place. The walls peeled like old skin, right down to the worn, flesh color and the ceiling looked as if it might give way at any moment. The room, however sizable, could have fit into her own two times over and she had never been expected to share it with anyone. Much less countless unwed females.

“If everyone shares this room, then where do you put all of your stuff?” Sylvie asked, mentally tallying up the space and finding it lacking.

“Ha!” Jules laughed darkly. “That’s not really an issue around here.” She swung a small pack from her back, causing Sylvie to notice it for the first time. “Everything I own fits right in here.” Jules patted the worn burlap. “And I have more than most.”

Jules’s meager belongings were no more than a pittance compared to the trove Sylvie had stored away back home. Countless dresses, jewelry, books and even frivolous knickknacks had always been commonplace in her life. So the concept of owning next to nothing was alien and strange. Sylvie felt a tiny, involuntary sting of guilt, but hastily pushed it away. She reminded herself that it was certainly not her fault they had nothing. That blame rested squarely on their own shoulders.

“So who is Addy?” Sylvie asked, putting an abrupt end to their small talk. She knew it came out a bit rude, but there was a reason the two of them had sought out solitude. And from what Jules had told her, there was no guarantee how long they would have it.

A hesitant look came over Jules’s face, but it did not keep her from answering. “Addy is Rex’s sister,” she said, the ghost of what she didn’t say haunting her lips.

“I know that,” Sylvie said. “But is she important? What happened to her?”

Jules chewed her lip nervously. “I don’t know much,” she said, her eyes darting from side to side. “But I know she was left behind when Jack found you.”

Found, Sylvie mused. The euphemism left a bitter taste in her mouth and despite all her practice at masking her feelings, Sylvie could not hide them now. “So is she why you had to leave your home?” she asked scathingly. The words struck Jules much like a slap; only Sylvie suspected the pain from the blow would have subsided much more quickly.

With a look of undeniable misery, Jules nodded her assent. “Talk about loyalty,” Sylvie said without so much as a pause for mercy. “You guys have to move your entire community all because one person can’t be trusted to keep their mouths shut. You must be so proud.”

Sylvie trained her eyes on Jules in an icy stare, hoping to see it chip away what little resolve the girl had left. She knew that it was a dangerous tactic—offending the only person so far that had offered her help—but in Sylvie’s experience, a frazzled person always said more than they intended.

And Jules was frazzled.

In fact, she seemed so undone that Sylvie almost regretted the sharpness of her words. That is, until Jules started to talk. “It’s not her fault,” she said quietly, taking care to avoid meeting Sylvie’s eyes. “It would be the same for any of us.” Sylvie opened her mouth to take another stab at the Rebel values when Jules suddenly met her gaze. “Your people don’t give us a choice.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sylvie asked, not liking the sound of your people. It’s not that she minded distinguishing herself from the Rebels, but preferred when she was the one doing the distinguishing.

“Don’t you know?” Jules asked, her eyes suddenly imploring. Sylvie searched their depths for some sign of the joke she was sure she was missing, but found only sincerity despite the malice she herself had shown.

“Know what?” Sylvie asked, even though pretty sure that she did not want to know the answer. The panicked look on Jules’s face combined with her hesitancy to answer did not exactly help matters.

“Your OPTICS,” Jules stuttered. “Th-they.” She milled over what to say next, rolling the words around in her mouth like she was tasting them. “They can make you do things. Things you don’t want to do. Say things that you don’t want to say.”

Sylvie thought of the Scabs and the way they lumbered about without question and she knew Jules’s words had to be true. But the weight of them had never occurred to her before—not until now did it settle down onto her shoulders like a yoke.

Sylvie wanted to argue. Wanted to say it was their own fault for putting New Eden at risk, for fighting against progress. But the words somehow never found their way out.

“I’m going to help the others unload,” Jules said, kind enough not to call attention to Sylvie’s lack of response. “I will be back soon, so why don’t you claim an empty spot and get settled in?”

With that, she slipped quietly out of the door. Sylvie listened as her footsteps disappeared down the empty hall, but the silence she was left with was far louder than any noise she had heard so far. It took only moments for her thoughts to roar in her ears, forcing her to look for a distraction.

Once she was sure that Jules was gone, Sylvie retraced their steps back through the small alcove and to the main hall. She had mentioned a restroom close by, so Sylvie set out to find it. After three empty classrooms and a very not empty storage closet, Sylvie finally stumbled into a small expanse covered in multi-colored tile. The smell of stagnant water confirmed her discovery long before she spied the sinks dotting the wall and the row of stalls directly adjacent.

Sylvie turned the knob on one of the sinks, her nose crinkling as a waterfall of brown escaped the small facet. She waited until the stream ran clear before scooping a handful and splashing it onto her dusty face. Lifting her eyes to the glass mounted above the basin, Sylvie found her disheveled reflection peering back at her in the age-speckled mirror.

The GeneticCosmetics were still pristinely painted across her elegant features, but Sylvie found herself wishing the same permanence had been true for her hair. Her dark mane was a web of tangles and knots matted into a stiff patch on the side of her head. Sylvie ran her fingers vainly through the mess, trying to reclaim some semblance of order when the heavy door shielding her from the hall was forced open.

The hinges cried out in protest giving a voice to Sylvie’s own reaction when she saw who was standing in the opening. Rex crossed his corded arms over the wide expanse of his decorated chest. A threatening grin twisted his features into a maniacal glare that sent Sylvie’s heart leaping into her throat.

“Look at what I found,” Rex growled. His voice was a sharp steely cold and it cut Sylvie like razors. Rex took a step into the cavernous room, his heavy footfall resounding off the walls. Sylvie found herself backing up in response—a foreign sensation for her since she had spent her whole life facing everything head on. But she felt assured in her choice when she saw Rex reach into the band at his waist and withdraw a long, curved blade. In the low light, it was hard to determine its size, but there was no mistaking its deadliness in his hands.

“What’s the matter, Elite?” He ran his finger up the length of the blade, the glint of it reflecting in his cruel eyes. “Surely you didn’t think we were all as soft as your boy Jack. We are nasty Rebels, remember?” His next step pushed Sylvie back until her body pressed against the porcelain of the sink. Its cool, hard touch told her she had nowhere else to go. A fact that was not lost on Rex as she closed the remaining distance between them.

“What do you want?” Sylvie demanded, proud that the quivering she felt inside did not escape her mouth.

“What do I want?” Rex leered, his eyes slithering up and down her body like a snake readying itself for attack. “I want to see what all the fuss is about.” Rex poised his knife at her collarbone and scraped the sharp tip of the blade along the hem of her shirt. “I want to see just how perfect you really are.”

In one swift movement, he sent the knife slicing down the front of her blouse, splitting the limp fabric in two. Sylvie gasped and lifted her hand instinctively to cover herself, but Rex knocked her hand away.

“Did I say I was done?” he spat, forcing the ruined top open again. Sylvie, no longer able to keep her composure, let out a broken whimper. Her breasts heaved in time with her shaky breaths, each one widening the satisfied grin on Rex’s face.

“Please stop,” Sylvie said, her voice pleading. “Please let me go.” She closed her eyes and tried to stop the trembling that had taken control of her body. But it was in vain.

Rex’s hateful laugh sent another wave crashing over her drowning out any hope of release. “I’m just getting started, Elite.” Rex moved his blade down her bare chest to where her pants clung loosely at her hip bone and slid the cold metal between her skin and the elastic at the waist. Sylvie braced herself for what she knew would come next, but a booming voice stopped things cold.

“Get away from the girl,” Jack said, his tone void of any of its typical banter. “And I am only going to tell you once.” Jack’s hand went to a sheath at his waist, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his own undrawn weapon. He did not have to produce the blade to convey his intentions. Sylvie’s eyes flew to Rex searching for a sign whether Jack’s threat would remain just that. After a long, painfully slow pause, she got her answer.

The sharp steel grazed her skin one final time as her attacker withdrew his assault. Within seconds, Jack closed the distance between them and before Sylvie knew it, he was wrapping her in the shirt he had stripped from his own back.

“It’s ok,” he whispered to her. “You’re ok.”

Sylvie found herself burying her face in his broad chest, thankful for the first time ever to have him near her. Jack smoothed her hair comfortingly, but there was no comfort against Rex’s final words.

“This isn’t over,” he said, his voice low, but steady. “This is a long way from over.”