Jungle of Creation

Three guards arrive belatedly to the party. A party I hope I never have to go to again. It’s worse than Lyla’s three-year-old Dora the Explorer birthday. Lyla swears it never happened. Tears are still slipping down my face as I watch two of the guards lift Ash up by her shoulders, taking her in for questioning while she’s still being agreeable (A.K.A. unconscious). There’s a pit waking in my gut: an achy, sinking feeling like I just lost something necessary to live. I can’t believe it. My mind is puzzling through the facts, looking for a sign that Ash was the killer all along. I can’t find anything. That strand of hair appeared out of nowhere, popping up right when I needed some piece of evidence to go off of. It hurts my brain, hurts my heart. Deep down I’m still praying that she has a rock-solid alibi.

Dr. Howard wishes both Jere and I his dearest regards before departing with Ash. At this point, his regards don’t mean squat to me. I need to get out of here. I realized that from the moment I saw that hair on this poor woman. It’s not worth it to stay anymore. I tracked down the body and look what good it did me. I just signed my friend’s freedom away, her trust. No way am I staying long enough to lose another friend. Or worse: my family. This reunion has been a long time coming, and I’m getting out of here the first chance I get.

I finally look up from my feet, daring to look around at the scene before me. Instead of horrendous green blood and sickly pale skin, I see sandy hair and warm, brown eyes before me. Grant regards me with sympathy in his eyes, opening up his arms. I don’t think. Before I know it, I’m wrapped up in Grant’s arms and warmth. The sobs I was able to hold back come tumbling out of me, halting only long enough to shovel in a shaky breath. Grant’s making little circles at the small of my back and I distantly wonder how he got so good at dealing with crying women. At least thirty minutes have gone by before my eyes are dry and my throat is scratchy.

I step out of Grant’s embrace, looking into his chocolatey eyes. Being a person who doesn’t make a habit out of crying in front of people, red creeps across my cheeks at the realization that I just soaked his shirt.

“You alright, Sunshine?” A small smile graces his lips, drawing my eyes to them. Dumbly, I nod and avert my eyes before my thoughts wander too far. Now is not the time, Amira. “Alright, well, I’m gonna take you and Jeremy back to y’all's rooms. I think you could use some down time after all this.” Really? You don’t say? Grant covers my hand with his and begins walking out of the clearing, leaving Jane behind. The warmth he gives off keeps me grounded and away from the cliffs that will undoubtedly lead to depressing thoughts. Need to go home. Need to go home. My mind is on one track now, and won’t be steered off. I know that I can’t spend another night in this place, where death grows on trees.

Glancing over to look at Jere, he’s staring at his hands, a stricken expression painting his face. His friend. He just sedated his friend. Ash. The heat from Grant’s body is seeping into my side as we make our way back to the compound in silence. Nowhere close to the amount of heat Ash left off in her anger, in her betrayal. No! I can’t think about that right now. What’s done is done and I can’t let the guilt eat away at me. An angry, stubborn tear rolls down my face and I shove it away with my free hand. There will be no more crying today. I will be strong.

Dimly, I realize we’ve made it to the compound door. The usually relaxing walk through the jungle does nothing for me. I feel nothing. Even my panther is dull under the surface, as if there is a direction I should be going and this is not it. Figuratively or literally, I don’t know or care. Grant squeezes my hand and I notice I’ve stopped in the doorway, not budging. Inch by inch I pick up my disobedient feet and numbly follow the others.

I feel like I’m missing something. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. Never have I felt so incomplete and lost. That’s it. Grant leads Jeremy to his door. Jere doesn’t even lift his head to say goodbye. He just punches in the door and trudges in with a crushed look. Next, Grant takes me to my room, but I’m not having it. I don’t want to step foot in there ever again.

“Can you take me to Dr. Howard? I need to talk to him,” I speak in a quiet voice, but it is hard and unrecognizable. Grant glances at me curiously, cocking his head to the side, before he nods and leads me down an unfamiliar hallway. His face hides his questions well, but I see them lying underneath. The warmth of his hand turns to ice in an instant. Remember Ash?

“What’s on your mind, Mi?” It’s an innocent question, but something in me flares in suspicion. You can’t trust anyone. My mind and body is just a jumble of paranoia, on edge even around Grant now. What would he do if he knew you were leaving? I can’t tell him. I can’t risk it. I need to see Dr. Howard now.

“Just need a break from the missions is all.” It’s a half-lie. I didn’t say I was leaving, but I didn’t say I wasn’t leaving either. Guilt courses through me, but nothing can steer me off the path I’ve chosen. The response seems to cut it, though, because Grant approaches a random door and punches in a code. I don’t have the energy or the patience to memorize either. My body’s a walking contradiction. Bitter exhaustion weighs me down at the same time that nervous, rapid-fire energy bubbles in my veins.

The door opens to reveal a control room with an array of recording equipment and benches. Dr. Howard is standing at the front of the room, peering through a window that looks into another room, bare aside from two chairs and the people in them. Ash is tied to one of the chairs, the one facing the window, while the other is occupied by some unknown guard. With a start, I realize this is the interrogation room. The window is one-way glass. The murderous look on Ash’s face shows she is not a fan of what they are asking.

“What components are in the cocktail your organization has been using?”

“I don’t freaking know! I’m not a part of this damn supernatural vendetta!” Ash’s face is red and furious, but the interrogator doesn’t seem to believe her as he shakes his head and jots down something on his notepad.

I hear Dr. Howard mutter something that sounds like “unbelievable” before he turns around and notices Grant and I in the room. His expression quickly morphs from weariness to animosity to the lack of both. “What is she doing in here?” He asks Grant, his voice a brittle bark.

“Sir, she said she needed to speak to you.” Dr. Howard’s eyes turn from Grant to me in a questioning yet impatient gaze.

“Speak, Ms. Faller. As you can see, we are quite busy.” Of course you are. I’m not a big fan of his tone after the crap I’ve seen today but I ignore it and keep on trucking. I won’t get what I’m after if I start being disagreeable.

No point in drawing this out. “Dr. Howard, I’d like to go home to my family, please,” I say in my sweetest voice.

“No.”

“What, but sir—” Dr. Howard holds up a hand, abruptly cutting me off. I am not amused.

“No. I cannot have you leaving the compound, Ms. Faller. We cannot risk the security of the people here, just as we cannot risk your security out in the real world. Have you forgotten what you are?”

“Of course I haven’t!” Does he think I’m stupid? I may not have a PhD, but I can be resourceful when it suits me. Now my hands are shaking and my voice is rising in pitch, no matter how hard I try to keep it in check, “I live with my powers everyday! I promise, though, if you would just let me speak to my dad. We can arrange something, and I swear this compound won’t be threatened in any way.” I mean, I can’t exactly promise that, but I’m willing to bet my nonexistent uncle’s gold tooth so I can go home.

“No, Ms. Faller. I can’t have you calling your father in case it puts the compound at risk, and I can’t let you leave either. Both are out of the question.” Dr. Howard strikes me with a stern look, waiting for me to cave. Well, you can shove that where the sun don’t shine. I am done falling for these games. Finding the beautiful woman and watching Ash get dragged away guaranteed that. I don’t have time to worry about anything that isn’t my family. My dad and sister need me and no one’s going to stop me from getting to them.

“No. I’m going—”

Sensing that I’m not going to back down this time, Dr. Howard doesn’t wait for me to finish. Instead he turns to Grant beside me, “Get her out of here.” I whip around to look at Grant right as he grabs both of my elbows. He doesn’t even hesitate as he restrains my hands behind my back and shoves me out the door. What the hell?

“Grant! Grant! Get your paws off me!” He doesn’t listen. Doesn’t even flinch when I whack him in the shin. Why didn’t Cole cover how to get out of this hold? Kicking and flailing, I call Howard and Grant every curse word in the book, and neither one gives me the honor of a reaction. Both are painfully, sinfully silent with blank faces. “Grant, get your mitts off me! I swear, I am going to beat you so that even your mom runs away crying!”

Still, there’s no reaction from Grant, even as we arrive right in front of my door. Punching in the code with angry fingers, Grant releases me and shoots me a glower.

“You better make the right decision, Sunshine. Choose what matters most or you’ll get hurt.” That sounded eerily like a threat, but at this point, who knows? Kiss or no kiss, I can’t trust a sleazeball that will restrain me the first chance he gets. Well, Grant Foster, it’s a good thing I’ve already chosen what matters most to me. And it’s not this damn compound. If this is how he treats the people he likes, then his advice can shove it. I don’t have time for anymore tears or hurt. It’s a good thing going to Dr. Howard was just a courtesy trip. I’m going home, whether I have their approval or not.

I glare at Grant as he turns his back and walks away. Entering the quiet room, I step just inside so the door will automatically slide closed. I’ve had just about enough backstabbing for one day, and I plan to hightail it out of here the first chance I get. The only issue is getting that code to the outdoors. My feet move of their own accord, making frustrated circles around the room while my teeth toy with my bottom lip. Plus, of course, figuring out what I’m even doing once I get out of here. I have no contact to the outside, so a taxi or a plane ticket isn’t going to cut it. I also have no cell phone, no credit cards, no wallet. All I have is the three dollars and thirty two cents that happened to be in the pocket of my jean shorts when I was nabbed. In other words, I’m screwed.

Right now, though, reason isn’t in my vocabulary. All I can think about is how I need to get home. I feel it in every fiber of my being. I’m done playing dress up. I’m ready to rejoin the real world. I walk into the tiny bathroom and throw my hair into a no-fuss ponytail. I’m already decked out in jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes, so I figure it’s go time.

First mission: Get that code to the outside. I don’t know how I’ll get it, but I do know that nothing short of knocking me out cold will keep me from leaving. The door to my dorm slides open without a fuss, giving me a full view of the empty hallway. Double checking and then triple checking the hall, I timidly step out of the bedroom. A flash of déjà vu hits me in the gut, causing my lips to turn down even more. A lot has changed since then. Back then, I didn’t know what the world around me was truly hiding. Now I know, and I would do anything to go back to the life I used to have. The life where Nemo woke me up every morning for food. Where Dad came home bone-tired from work, yet he still put a smile on his face. Where taking a trip to Brazil was more adventure than I ever thought I’d have in my lifetime. Now what I’ve got is a panther living inside me, a compound breathing down my neck, and more heartache than I can handle. Talk about a real game changer.

I take two more peeks down both directions before turning to get to the front door. With it being midday, the halls are filled and there are workers and scientists chatting on their way to their stations. Luckily for me, I only get the usual stares and no one forcing me back to my room. I guess Howard hasn’t officially put me on lock down yet. Never thought I’d be thankful for people staring at me, but this day is just full of surprises. Coming to the corner, I glance to the right to see a few people milling about the front door, but no one guarding it per say. If I really get this lucky, then I will bow down right here and praise my guardian angel.

Staying in my little hiding place so no one by the door sees me, I lean inconspicuously against the wall to avoid unwanted attention. I am not getting dragged back when I am so close. Clasping my hands in front of me, I continue to take little peaks around the corner, waiting for someone to open the door. After about ten minutes of mindless torture, a tall, bronzed guard with short, curly black hair approaches the door like he doesn’t have a second to spare. Finally! Watching with the eyes of a hawk, unblinking, I reach out to the jungle and the freedom it provides to stretch my vision. I’m still shocked by the pinpoint accuracy I can see with once my powers are in focus. Keeping hold of my center, I stare intently at the guard as he punches the code into the door.

85601

Got it. I smirk triumphantly as I make a mental note of the numbers. Now I just have to wait it out until I have an opening to the door. Easy peasy. Not. I quickly grow frustrated as the minutes creep by, gradually turning into an hour. Then another. What does a girl have to do to get these meatheads away from the door? I almost let out a groan of frustration until my senses rush back and I remember I’m trying to be incognito. Every muscle in my body is screaming for movement, action. I’ve already started getting suspicious looks, even though I looped around the compound a couple times to avoid drawing curious eyes. If I just stand here much longer, someone is bound to confront me. Everyone knows my face, and I know they’d go straight to Dr. Howard if I made a rash move. The man may be the doctor, but he seems to have more control around here than Kline most days. Of course, she’s usually off gallivanting, doing whatever the hell she does all day, so it’s not much of a surprise.

My mind snaps back to attention, away from useless puzzles, as soon as I notice no one else hanging around the door. It’s a little early for dinner, but I take what I can get anyway, not wasting a second. With the code in focus, I glance left and right down the hall to double check. Just as I think it’s clear, a tall shadow peeking around the far corner from me draws my attention. Crap. Cole is leaning leisurely against the wall, as if he has not a worry in the world, his crystal blue eyes focused directly on me. A righteous smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, and he catches me staring—no, gaping—at him from my hideaway. He raises his eyebrow in a silent question, asking what I’m doing. How long has he been there? How much has he seen? From the look on his face, I’d say damn everything. No. If he knows what I’m planning then he’ll report to Howard. My chances of getting out of here will be shot.

I lock my gaze with his, widening my eyes and quietly pleading for him not to tell. There’s no doubt that he knows. The smug expression on his face is enough confirmation. I mouth ‘Please’ to him. Please. Please. Please. He seemed to care enough about me to watch over me in the infirmary. Let’s just hope he cares enough to let me go home. He seems amused by my begging. Bastard. He’s not giving me much choice here. I’d grovel at his feet to be able to see Dad and Lyla again. He regards me for a moment more, eyebrows scrunching in concentration, before he gives a little wink and strolls down the hall, away from the door. I let out a sigh of relief, then stiffen back up. I’m not out of the woods yet.

Checking the door again to make sure it’s still unobstructed, I walk quickly over to the door. The sooner I get this code in, the better. Hurriedly punching in the numbers, I don’t get past 8-5-6- before I hear someone clearing their throat, followed by a smooth Southern accent.

“Well, well, well. You didn’t think we’d leave this door unguarded now, did ya? It’s sad, really, that you thought we didn’t know you were snoopin’.”

I spin around to face Grant, his usually sweet, sarcastic expressions tossed for a smug look of victory. How did my friend change so drastically all in the span of five words from Howard? Guess I never really knew him at all. I scowl, letting a low growl rumble in my chest, “Nah. I just thought that you would be smart enough not to stand in my way.” My scowl only deepens when a hearty laugh bubbles up in him and he takes a long step closer. My fingers search for the keypad behind me, itching to finish the code to open the door to freedom.

“That’s mighty tough talk for someone who has already lost.” I don’t even have time to ask him what the hell he’s spouting about before he lunges at me. Caught between him and the door, with not enough room to get around, Grant’s arms quickly encircle my neck in a firm choke hold. Not this again. I’d be rolling my eyes if even the slightest movement didn’t hurt so dang much. I can feel my breathing becoming rapid and shallow as Grant closes off my airways. I rack my mind desperately for what Cole taught me about getting out of this. It doesn’t help that I was too much of a wimp to actually try it, and I haven’t actually trained since that day. Not good.

Either way, I know I have to try. My vision is already getting spotty, my legs wobbly, and I can feel Grant’s arrogant grin burning into the back of my neck. Didn’t Cole say something about grabbing his arm, tucking my chin? I try it, surprising Grant for a second before he squeezes harder. It doesn’t matter, though, because my suffocated lungs are now getting a little bit of oxygen. Just enough to stay awake. For now. As if on auto pilot, the extra rush of breath causes Cole’s words to rush back at me with urgency. Quickly, praying it works, I lock my leg behind Grant’s while still holding his arm and turn to my right fast. I use the momentum of his movement to my advantage, throwing my weight and managing to heave him over my shoulders so his hold on me breaks. He hits the ground with a loud smack, allowing me enough time to type the last two numbers into the keypad.

Waiting the two-second eternity for the door to slide open, I risk a glance at the groaning Grant sprawled out on the floor. He’s already getting up. Of course I’m not going to catch a break. Racing through the door as soon as it opens, I’m off on my long legs, leaping through the jungle. I call to the energy around me, focusing on my hands, where I watch my fingernails morph into razor-sharp claws before my eyes. These should come in handy. I can feel the power inside me and I know that my eyes must be glowing a fiery emerald green. My attention on the rain forest around me fades, however, as I hear several sets of feet gaining ground behind me. No matter my speed and my abnormal agility, I don’t know that I can outrun what sounds like five guards on my tail. Shooing the thoughts away, I keep running, thankful that Cole isn’t following me. I’d lose that race before it even began.

No matter, because the thrashing of leaves and the sound of feet on soft dirt grows steadily stronger the longer I run. These guards have more endurance than me, and I can feel my strength fading. The withering exhaustion that comes with using my powers washes over me. The heavy breaths puffing in and out of my lungs aren’t helping either. I can’t keep this up for much longer. I need to hide. I need to ditch them. I don’t get the chance, though, because I feel strong hands wrap around my slim waist, ensnaring me. I immediately begin scratching at the hands with my claws, growling madly. Despite the exhaustion, my panther feels close to the surface, angry and rabid.

Cursing in what I recognize as Grant’s silky voice, my captor grabs my wild hands to restrain me once again. My legs are flinging and my teeth are gnashing, but it doesn’t matter. He caught me and I’m too tired to do a thing about it. He leans in close to my ear as I futilely struggle to get out of his firm hold.

Giving a husky chuckle that sends a shiver down my spine, Grant whispers into my hair, “You’re so stubborn, Amira. Really determined. I used to admire that about you, but you know how it goes,” He pauses, inhaling the honeysuckle and melon scents of my shampoo. A shudder rips through me. This man was never my friend; he played me like a fiddle. Another chuckle escapes as a smug smirk settles over his mouth, “My duty comes first, and, darlin’, you just got put on the hit list. It’s not personal.”

Fear infecting my bones, I can barely react as a sharp prickle punctures the skin at my neck, sending an ache through my shoulders and spine. The ache gives way to a blissful numbness, settling in my bones and pulling me towards the sleep I so desperately crave. My eyelids feel heavy and useless as I glance over my shoulder to see the syringe in my neck, then the four stoic men behind Grant. My vision isn’t just spotty now, but downright vertigo-inducing. Fortunately, the content, numbing sensation sweeping through me wipes away any cares I may have. Grant’s voice is the last one I hear before the world goes dark.

“Night, Sunshine.”