Authors: Anya Monroe
To do so I'd be turning the girl I love into a machine. I'd be turning her into me.
Thankfully, Integrity says nothing.
I lift my right hand, blazing with light. With narrowed eyes I focus on a heat so powerful it could consume them all. I target my anger toward Lucy having to run and me having to stay. My hand fills with those emotions and when the temperature rises to a combustible flame, the room gasps.
This is a part of my power I've been taught to hide. But now, with all eyes watching Head Councilman nods, dictating my move. He knows I will do as he says, my stake in this Refuge is as complicated as his. However, I'd like to believe mine is pure, but now I feel hostility pressing me forward.
Fueled with a fire I don't completely understand, a trail blazed within me. Head Councilman doesn't realize, but his request has reminded me of my own strength. A red flame rises above my hand and I place the test in my palm and watch as it disintegrates.
I watch as Lucy becomes free of The Light, forever.
CHAPTER THREE
"Who are you?" A man holding a gun asks, not lowering it from my face. A group of people are with him, a barricade of individuals all carrying handguns block Timid and I from moving any further along the path.
"I'm Lucy. My friend and I have been traveling all night." My arm reaches out, pulling Timid close to me. The moment my light was extinguished the night air became jarringly cold.
"Where are you from? Who's with you?" The gun-holding man asks, not hesitating for a moment to find out who we are.
"We're from The Light and we're alone. We're looking for Charlie."
The man steps back, looking us over from head to toe. It's easy to see that we're dressed for the indoors, in flimsy gowns, unarmed. Even our feet, covered in simple moccasin slippers, reveal how out of our element we are. We surely didn't think out our escape very thoroughly. Not that we had time.
"Lower your guns, these girls are coming with me," the man tells the group surrounding us. Immediately, they listen.
Not wanting to travel this far, only to end up in the wrong persons hands, I ask, "Do you know who Charlie is? He said to find him at
Safe House Four
."
"You will speak when asked to speak."
With those simple words I realize I'm not going to receive the friendly greeting I anticipated. I assumed with naiveté that when I walked to the
Safe House
someone would greet us with open arms.
I was hoping to walk here, find Charlie and his parents, then explain everything to them and have them agree to help me get Lukas, Basil, and Hana to freedom ... free from The Light.
But this isn't like that fairy-tale in my head at all. This is gun-in-my-face-scary.
"I'm so cold, Lucy." Timid cries, clinging to my body. She must be overwhelmed by all these strange people carrying guns and I am too, but I'm trying not to let that show. I'm guessing she's never seen a gun before. It's clear she's terrified of them anyways. There are some things that scare us, even if we don't know why. I want to minimize her fear.
The man speaks again and I listen to his words, anxious for answers. "You'll come with me, but I won't promise anything besides shelter. Not until we've assessed you both. Jax, run ahead and let the kitchen know we need some food. And find some coats for them, too." A young man separates from the group and runs into the dark night. "This way, and stay close to me," he says, butting his gun against my back. I pull Timid closer, still. "Patrolmen, go to our borders, call in the Reserves and make sure no one is following these two." His orders scatter the people surrounding us and he starts moving down the path, his headlamp guiding the way.
After we've walked a short distance I see what must be the
Safe House
,
but it doesn't look like a house at all
.
It's a sprawling structure as far as I can tell. Much of it is hidden by the night sky. Morning will give me a better view.
Timid and I follow him to a door he flings open, revealing a small house-like room. There seems to have been a kitchen along the wall at one time, but it looks mostly removed, leaving only a stovetop. There's a bunk bed and a table with a bench lining one side. It's empty except for curtains hanging on the wall, covering the windows. We entered through a door, but I see there's another exit opposite of us, but that door seems more makeshift, as if someone literally sliced a door through a wall. The man's headlamp fills the space with light.
"You both take a bunk, Jax will be bringing more blankets. And some food. I'll officially question you in the morning. Until then, I suggest you sleep. Until I know otherwise, you're pawns of the enemy. I don't care that you're girls." He stands with arms folded watching as Timid and I lay down on the beds, cautiously.
I climb to the top, hoping it's what Timid prefers, knowing she's used to sleeping on the floor. The man burps loudly, then starts coughing. I pull my head away, disgusted by his crude behavior. I don't know what I expected, but not a greeting like this.
"Is Charlie here? Can you tell him Lucy's here?" I ask, feebly. I just want to have a chance to see him; somehow it would make this seem less like a mistake.
"I have no reason to trust you. So I don't. My name is Reagan and this is
my Safe House
. I decide who stays and who goes. Charlie had to go. His ideas didn't exactly gel with mine."
His words are cold and calculated and I shouldn't be surprised. I remember how rough those men were with Mom on the trek to The Light, how Charlie shot down four men in the blink of an eye. I've been sheltered from the world's cruelty while at The Light. They offered a completely different sort of cruelty.
He pulls a flask out of his jacket and takes a few long gulps. It makes me realize how parched I am, but I know he's not drinking water. It smells something awful.
Jax walks in through the cutout door with a pile of blankets and sitting on top is a loaf of bread. He sets the blankets on the table and then tosses the bread in the air for me to catch. I do.
"Nice," he says, offering a smile. I pull the chunk in two, leaning down to hand Timid her share. We inhale the loaf, even though it's cold and hard, while Reagan and Jax watch us in an uncomfortable silence.
I get under the blanket Jax doles out, pulling the heavy wool to my chin, and then take a look at the two of them. They study us with arms crossed in consideration, as though deciding how much of a threat we pose.
"Jax, you stay here, for the night. Pull out the bench to sleep on, I don't care. But don't leave them alone," Reagan commands.
"Got it." Jax sits down on the bench across the room from us; hand on the holster hanging at his hip, encasing a silver gun.
Reagan exits quickly through the door Jax used, and I listen through the dark to hear if a lock is turned to keep us in. There isn't. Not that I need a key to open things these days.
With Reagan gone, darkness hangs in the small space. I'm terrified to speak with Jax in the room. The intensity shifts as I think about him, about being left alone in a dark room with a strange man. I trust no one.
Timid's fingers search for mine, and wordlessly she climbs into my bunk. I pull her to the side against the wall, using my body as a barricade to protect her from anything that might happen in the night. I huddle close to her as though she is truly my sister. She is now, in most every sense of the word. I listen to the long breaths from the man a few feet from us.
"Don't try anything, tonight," he says loudly, filling the room with his clear voice. "There's nowhere to go out there. If you try to run, our patrols will find you anyway. Reagan won't like the wasted effort for a few girls. He gets real mad when he's drunk, and that's where he's headed tonight."
We don't answer. I have nothing to say, and already I feel Timid's heavy breathing against me. She must be exhausted and her body has chosen sleep. A wise choice. This day is nothing we prepared ourselves for. All we thought when the power left the Refuge was simply, run.
But our plans went little further than that. I'm overwhelmed, realizing how foolish Lukas and I were, how naïvely we fixed a plan. How terrible the cost of this plan might be.
I might never see him again.
That isn't something I can bear. I've already lost so much. We all have.
I must figure out a way to see Charlie and ask for help. I never expected to arrive at the
Safe House
to be treated like a criminal with a rifle in my back. Yet here we are, lying on cots in a jail-like room, guarded by a man carrying a gun.
As much as my mind fights to figure out the next step, my eyes resist. I'm surprised at the muffled sobs I release. My shoulders heave as the tears are shed. I try to fall asleep, unsure of what my life will be when I wake. Comfort is found in the dancing lights under my eyelids, but I want more. I want more light.
When I woke up this morning, I would have never guessed this is where I would end the day.
Yet here I am. An orphan. And so very far from home.
I make my way down the large hallway towards the Haven where the morning service is about to start. The Council has assured me that the Vessels and Humblemen have all settled down after last night's unprecedented event. It seems I'm the only one still shaken by what took place when the light went out.
Each time I think of Lucy, I'm anxious once more. My lips tremble at the thought of her and Timid lost, searching for a
Safe House
that doesn't exist, or worse, being captured by people only wanting to hurt her. I promised her my love, I should be protecting her. Doubt covers me as I once again question if letting her go was the right thing. Was me staying here a cowardice choice? I won't know the answer until this whole plan plays itself out. At the moment my greatest fear is that at that point it will be too late to turn back time.
Walking into the Haven, the voices of singing Vessels greet me. It's a sound that brings comfort; the music has been the backdrop to so much of my life. Everyone is seated and when I reach the front of the sanctuary, I close my eyes, focusing on the light within me, wanting it to radiate from the inside out, towards the Haven.
I wish I knew how it worked, this light-coming-out-of-me. Not understanding my only valuable asset makes me feel more like a false-prophet than I already know I am. I want answers, but I don't.
All I know is when I focus, for even a short amount of time, on wanting my light to brighten, it does. It has always been that way. Even when I was three or four years old I remember walking to the front of the Haven, just as I am now, and bringing Light with me. Back then, I remember it made me so happy. So proud to be so helpful. My parents were with me, and Charles. Mom and Dad would tell me what a gift I was to the world, how they would do anything to help me use my light for good.
Then they left me. Forgetting their promises of protection. Forgetting me altogether.
I remember one time I asked Dad what The Light would have done if Mom and him hadn't come here before I was born. If Mom had given birth to me someplace else, because then The Light would have never known their prophet was alive. Dad gently told me to silence questions like that. He told me thinking like that would do nothing but bring harm to us all.
So I listened to him. I didn't want the people I loved to get hurt and I knew by going into the Haven with my bright light, everyone did seem happier, more content, relaxed. And I knew that by going into the Energy Room at night, I was releasing energy that would allow food to grow and water to warm and boats to be powered.
Being quiet kept people well.
I never wavered in those convictions until I met Lucy. Lucy, who put words to the questions I've silently debated. Lucy who challenged a system that's kept me captive. Meeting her allowed me to think, for the first time; that maybe my destiny could be bigger than this Refuge. Bigger than me.
At the front of the Haven I stand with a clear view of all the people who live here, serve here, for the cause of The Light. They come to the Haven each morning on the pretense that by being filled with the Light coming out of me they will be more holy. They believe I am here on Earth to help make them more pure and clean, eliminating the darkness from them and the world. They believe that once the world is eradicating of all the darkness, their heavenly bodies will reign on earth once more.
I'm the one leading this charge. At least, that's what they think. In reality, I'm just figurehead of a religion that is led by corrupt men looking for control. And the men have the control they want. The Humblemen control their Vessels, the Councilmen control each Refuge, and the Head Councilman controls us all.
The Nobleman is a convenient by-product. I am a by-product. My bizarre ability gave their power-hungry religion street cred.
So here I am, planted in a no-win situation where if I choose to flee the Refuge and go to Lucy, I'm leaving innocent people to perish. But by choosing to stay, I'm agreeing to a belief system I deem to be a hoax.
The Vessels still fill the Haven with their voices, and I try to ignore all the questions rushing through my mind about what's going to happen next, for all of us. I must put all of my focus on getting to Refuge Two. I can't plan further than that. I look over the sanctuary and see Perfection near the front. She's looking at her fingernails, not filled with the energy in the room like so many others. She's the anomaly, too busy being bored.
Looking around I watch to see if other people respond to my light with the same ambivalence as her. Plenty of children sit peacefully with their eyes closed and heads back. Women and men sit with folded hands, genuinely washed in tranquility. It's the strangest thing, even when I am dead-set against The Light, there is no denying the serenity that is given when people lap up the bright rays streaming out of me. Whether I like it or not I have a power within me.
If only I understood it
.
The service ends like clockwork, sixty minutes each morning. Even though the Head Councilman has stated over and over how he wishes to shorten the time spent each day in the Haven, wasted hours when Vessels and Humblemen could be productive, he can't refute that when the Refuge spends time in my light they are happier and more content to do their jobs, more willing to do what is asked of them when they can first bask in my illumination.