Oculus (Oculus #1) (27 page)

In my rush to see Iris, I make a mistake. A simple mistake, something that I had not done in over a decade. I forget to scan the area completely before I moved into the open. There is no patrol nearby, I hear no one moving so I think it’s safe. I’m halfway up the side of the house, thinking only of Iris when a scream rings out.

“Security! Security! There’s a man climbing onto that house!”

In horror, I look to the origin of the noise and see Iris’s friend Hattie hanging half out of her window. Her gaze is on a five-man security team a few streets over. They follow her pointing finger and begin double timing it toward me. I hesitate, when I should’ve just killed her. It gives security enough time to get close. Having no other option, I leap across to another building, hoping to lose security down one of the nearby alleys. As I land on the ground, a klaxon starts to blare. Lights that had been installed on every street corner turn on and the night is suddenly as bright as day.

Idiot! You should have known they would update the lights as well.

From behind me I hear the shouts of the security patrol I’d left behind. Racing down to the end of the alley, I peek around the corner. Two more patrols are heading my way, one of them on a vehicle with a heavy gun mounted in the back. Cursing, I back track, grabbing an overflowing trashcan as I ran. Tossing the can into the path of the security guards just as they turned the corner, I knock them to the ground in an explosion of garbage. Leaping over their prone forms I strip one of them of his rifle as I pass.

Mentally reviewing my options I decide to make for one of the tunnels. It isn’t ideal, but if I can get outside the wall I can lose them in the forest. The hum of electric motors from all around warn me that I’m running out of time. Security now has vehicles to respond to incursions, something which balances out my ability to run. I throw myself forward into a roll as I hear the click of three sniper rifles chambering rounds. Concrete flies as the rounds impact the space I just occupied.

The guards keep their distance, and use their rifles to try and take me down. I’m suddenly too concerned with dodging incoming fire to think about where I’m going. Too late, I realize that while they’ve been trying to kill me they were also herding me. I enter a blind alley just ahead of a large caliber bullet that threw chunks of dirt up from the ground it impacted. Looking to the wall at the far end of the alley, I sprint toward it. I can see three handholds that might allow me to gain the roof. From there it’s a short trip to the entrance to the tunnel. If I can make the tunnel I’ll be able to slip into the woods while they try to flush me out of hiding up here.

The wall’s a few feet away when I hear the hissing. Holding my breath, I leap from the ground and grasp the first handhold. My hand extends toward the second grip when the cloud of gas hits my skin. There are many types of gas that The Corp likes to use. Nerve gas, poison gas, tear gas, and when worried about damage to their precious slaves- sleeping gas. The mixture of chemicals are absorbed on contact with the skin. Holding your breath did no good, nor did a mask of any kind. Only a full body containment suit would protect you from the chemicals.

The second it touches me, my strength starts draining from me. I manage to get to the second hand hold, but I’m not able to pull myself up. My fingers lose purchase and I fall back from the wall. I try to twist my body so that I’ll at least land on my head. I don’t want them to be able to capture me alive. But my traitorous muscles refuse to respond, and I fall back into the dark corner of the alley, impacting on my back. I fumble with the rifle, trying to bring it to bear, not on the approaching security personnel, but on myself. If I can just get the muzzle to my head, I can blow my brains out before they have a chance to take me. The lights begin to fade from my vision as the chemicals steal my consciousness. The last thing I see is the rifle falling from my hands to the ground.

I
HAVE ALWAYS DREAMED THAT
if I ever magically got my eyesight back, suddenly everything would become clear. As if the proverbial switching on of the lights would somehow switch on clarity and understanding of the world I live in. My life would be full and purpose-driven. I’d take the Propensity Screening and be placed in a job that suited me well. I’d meet, fall in love with, and marry another Fenra employee then we’d wait patiently to be given authorization to have our only child.

I always thought that I’d somehow know all the things I needed to know but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The fact of my reality is that I’m more confused than I’ve ever been. In the last few weeks of my life, things have gone from bleak to disturbing, to confusing, to frightening, to thrilling, to life–threatening, and then back to confusing.

Confusion has remained my constant since dreams of Sic started all those years ago. I have always been confused as to why I was having dreams, how I knew what I was seeing, who my phantom was…

I always thought that if somehow I were reborn with fresh eyes, my life would somehow be better, clearer, easier, predictable, and brighter.

Now I have those fresh eyes but I’ve never felt more in the dark than I do right now. I’ve never felt more vulnerable than I do now. I’ve never felt more confused and scared than I do now.

What’s worse is the buzz circulating about the Dark Lander that security captured this morning. “A key operative of The Resistance” is what the automated message has been droning on about.

I wake to the sound of sirens and blaring speakers barking out warnings to employees. Even before I know, I know. I know it’s Sic. I feel it right to the core of me. I was asleep but something inside was wide awake and saw it coming, felt it coming. I could feel his heart pounding. I heard the sound of Sic’s breaths as he ran, as if I were running with him. I could see the blaze of bright lights shining all around. I could smell the sickly sweet scent of the sleeping gas. I could taste blood on my lips. Then I wake up to chaos and cheers from gathering employees that watch a large group of security agents as they haul off Sic’s limp form.

My heart sinks and I have to fight against my reflex to cry out, to sink to my knees and beg for them to release him because I know well that they’ll kill him. It’s a good thing that I don’t react to the scene on the streets because Chief Williams’ dark brown eyes find me and watch me closely as the morbid death-parade passes by my house. It instantly reminds me of the story Sic had been telling me about. The prohibited book he was recounting was about a group of boys marooned on an island where they faced cruel environmental conditions, but soon discover that the cruelest of their fates was the savagery that the boys showed each other. They tortured and isolated each other. They banded together in factions, not to better survive, but to better conquer other factions.

It was something that I wasn’t too keen on listening to, but Sic seemed to be enamored with the story about the boys’ behavior. I wonder absently if he’ll be able to finish telling me what happens in the end of the book.

If my feet could wear a hole in the floor, they would have done it by now. I’ve paced the floor of my bedroom wondering how I can convince the agents to release Sic.

What if he’s already dead?

As soon as the thought enters my head, I push it away, unwilling to allow my mind to speculate on the fate of the man with which I share an inexplicable, but very real bond.

What reason could they possibly have to keep him alive?

"Think," I implore myself, grappling with reality. It's been some time since I discretely watched with my fresh eyes as agents toted Sic away like some prized pig.

"Chief. Denise. Williams," the bitch in the box on the wall drones causing the hair on the nape of my neck to stand. For a moment I stand frozen in place wondering why in the hell the newly appointed Chief Williams is at my door. My dad always says "no news is good news," and right at this moment I cannot agree more. Worry for my dad and for Sic and for myself terrorizes me.

What if dad has gotten worse? What if they know that Sic is connected to me? What if they've killed him?

Tremors wrack my hands as I try to smooth my clothes and tuck hair behind my ears. I take a deep breath and mentally remind myself to play the part. With my glasses in place, I swing my door open and wait as I normally would.

"Miss Tierney, I'm glad I've caught you at home. With Doctor Tierney being in the hospital, I wondered if you'd even be here."

"You're the new chief?" I ask, stepping aside to invite the new chief in.

"I am. Denise," she says as she extends her hand to me. I remain with my arms at my sides feeling slightly amused at the reflexive gesture and absently wonder how many times someone has done this.

"How can I help you, Chief?" I ask, purposefully thrusting my own hand outward in the wrong direction.

"I have a proposition for you. Can we sit?"

"Of course," I say while leading her to my father’s chairs in the living room. I allow my fingers to graze the surfaces of my home like I normally would and remind myself not to stare at
her.

I look beyond her and wait. "As I'm sure you know, recent events have created quite an issue for our PR department. Your fellow Fenra residents are uneasy and they have every right to be. These, after all, are uneasy times. You can change that."