AMANI: Reveal (5 page)

Amya Priam

“Veeeeery happy for you guys. Really, believe me,” Samera said. “But now it might just be time to get out of here. Like, right now.”
              I broke away from Xander’s intoxicating kiss to smile shyly at my best friend. “Sorry,” I said.
              “No worries. I’m glad you two could work things out.” She winked at me. “All right. Mom’s letter to Dad reveals a secret passage in Red to something that looks like a safe house. It’s quite huge actually. She probably drew a map in order for us to hide there until we can come back.”
              “We need to leave now, before anyone sees us,” Karl added. “I turned off all the cameras. No one will have a clue as to where we’re going.” Samera’s father stared at Xander for a moment. “When Michelle called me after the bombings started, she mentioned I could trust you,” he told him. “That’s why you’re out of your cell. And she might be right, but don’t think for a second that I won’t keep an eye on you, mister.”
              Slipping his fingers down my forearm and into mine, Xander answered, “No, sir. And I will feel safer for everyone if you do, sir.”
              Holding onto her father’s shoulder for balance, Sam opened the curtains to the Red Dimension—Xander’s cell contorting and bending vertically on itself—and we all stepped into an empty space where dozens of large windows occupied the walls, giving the impression of looking over a city during a sunny day. But I knew it was only an illusion since the room we were in was at least twenty feet underground. The building Samera, Gareth, and I had visited while escaping from the HQ last month had probably been put down and built anew. It looked completely different now.
              “All right. What does the map say exactly?” I asked Mr. Jensen.
              “First, you follow me. I know my way out of here.” He pointed to the staircase to our left and then looked at his daughter’s leg. “Are you sure you can walk?”
              Sam winced but smiled. “Sure. It’s probably just sprained or something. I’ll be fine.”
              The upper stories of the building were not completely finished; the last staircase, which resembled in no way a normal staircase, had unstable wooden boards as stairs, which became trickier for Samera to step on with her bad ankle.
              I was the first to step outside and was surprised to notice how sunny and warm it was. In New York, the highest November temperature we’d had so far this year was 57 degrees. I hadn’t been allowed to Travel since our escapade in England because Michelle was afraid Wyatt would keep looking for me everywhere, so being in Red and out in the open, even just for a moment, felt amazing.
              “Follow me,” Karl ordered, before he and Samera headed right.
              It still amazed me how the styles of individuals in Red differed from one another. I had yet to see two people wearing the same outfit. Music was everywhere and seemed in complete harmony with the honking of the cars on a second street fifteen feet above our heads. I felt like I was in a musical. Some people seemed completely absorbed into their own little worlds, while others danced and smiled at every passerby. It made me want to follow them, but we had no time. How long would it take for the Protectors to come looking for Xander? And what would be the consequence for his escape?
              I grew anxious and peeked all around us to ensure we weren’t being followed.
              “Michelle came to visit me this morning,” Xander whispered to me while we tailed the Cohens.
              “What did she want?” I asked, still scouting our surroundings. I had learnt two weeks ago that the Protectors had hired some of our twin-selves from all the Dimensions to spy for them, which meant that anyone walking on the street could be looking for Xander.
              Xander looked down at our interlaced fingers before his gaze found mine. “She wanted to make sure I had fed enough before the trial.”
              “What do you mean?”
              There was something in his voice. Regret? Shame? I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was enough to distract me from the growing tension building every time someone looked in our direction.
              “She let me feed on her.”
              “Excuse me?” Karl interfered as he turned toward us. “What did you just say?”
              Xander and I froze in place. Mr. Jensen was an imposing man, with his scarred arms and sharp features. He clearly wasn’t the kind of guy you would easily mess around with. I knew he would never hurt any of us, but the mere idea of upsetting him was alarming.
                “She, um, I—I… She—” Xander babbled, slowly backing away from the Protector.
              But Karl kept moving forward. “You fed on my
wife
?”
              “Dad,” Samera said. “Dad, please.”
              “It only happened once.” Xander finally answered. “She figured that if I didn’t feed before the trial, I wouldn’t pass the tests.” He looked at me. “And I really wanted to pass them this time. Please understand…”
              “Understand what exactly?” Karl replied louder. “That you took advantage of my wife’s generosity? That you used her for your own benefits? What did you do to her? What monstrosity did you inflict on
my wife
?” He didn’t let Xander answer. “I should have known you weren’t to be trusted! I should have known…” He made another step in Xander’s direction and suddenly threw a hard punch at my friend’s eye.
              “Dad!” Samera shouted.
              I didn’t know how to react. Mr. Jensen kept throwing punches at Xander, but the latter only shielded his face with his forearms and waited. A few people walking on the street turned around to look at the scene, but none actually made a move to break the two men apart. I didn’t dare say anything. And even if I’d been more courageous, I wouldn’t have known what to say. My image of Mr. Jensen had always been that he was kind and comprehensive. I’d never known him to be capable of such hatred.
              Samera kept shouting at her father, in vain, while she slowly walked to me, barely using her left leg. “Dad, come on! He said Mom asked him to! Dad, leave him alone, please!”
              At that, Karl turned around and walked angrily to his daughter. “How do you know he didn’t force her? How naïve you are! This”—he pointed angrily at Xander, who was already recovering from the hits—“is not your friend anymore. You need to realize that he is a
monster
, a twisted abomination who manipulates the people around him in order to survive. I’ve seen too many of his kind already. I shouldn’t have allowed him to stay at our Headquarters for so long.
              “I should have stood up to your mother and sided with John and all the other Protectors who wanted him dead.” He turned to Xander again. “Actually, it’s not too late yet.” He took out a coop-hole from his pocket and started dialing a number. “John will be happy to know of your whereabouts,” he told Xander. “I can’t bring you back myself without going against Michelle’s orders, but she said nothing about contacting other Protectors.”
              The realization hit me. Michelle had been right earlier; the Protectors would immediately point the finger at Xander about the explosions and, if he stayed at Headquarters, his chances of ever being released would go up in flames. He couldn’t go back. And now that Karl was going mad, we had no choice but to escape without him. And that meant without Samera. She wouldn’t leave her father alone. Not in this condition, anyway.
              “Xander did not hurt your wife,” I told Mr. Jensen, trying to sound confident. I slowly walked next to Xander and held his hand. “Didn’t you notice he could have hurt you when you attacked him just now, but he only protected himself from your blows? Can’t you realize he’s harmless?” Then, when I noticed Karl didn’t want to listen to any of it, I whispered as quickly and silently as I could to Xander, “Grab the map and run.”
              And merely a second later, he swiftly and gracefully jumped onto Karl and hooked the Protector’s arm behind his back until he released his hold on the map, and we ran.
              I knew Xander could easily outrun a human, but I wasn’t so sure about me. I was speedier than Samera, that was for sure, but running faster than a trained martial arts instructor was a whole other challenge.
              Without slowing his pace, Xander looked at the map and made a sudden left, then another left. We almost ran into ten people in total, all more nonchalant than the other, like it was totally normal for two strangers to push them out of their way. Karl, however, never lost sight of us. And he looked furious.
              After several blocks, my heartbeat reached its peak and my legs started to quiver.
              “How long—before we arrive?” I asked, out of breath.
              “You see that entry right there?” Xander pointed to some kind of subway entrance, his voice insolently steady. “Get in there and wait for me. I’ll lead Karl away, and as soon as he loses my trail, I’ll meet you there.” Without another word, he broke away from me and headed down a perpendicular street.
              As much as I disliked the idea of splitting up, I did as he bid and was relieved when Sam’s father followed behind Xander without even noticing me.
              I arrived at the entrance of the subway and descended the stairs two by two. No one was around and, aside from my steps on the cement, any noise from the street was muted as I got deeper underground. Light was also pretty much non-existent this far down. My heart was still racing with itself and I feared Xander wouldn’t be able to get rid of Karl. After three staircases, I believed no one would see me and I was scared to continue on my own because I couldn’t see further away than my own hands, so I allowed myself to slow down and even sit while I waited for my friend.
              And that’s when I noticed a silhouette silently climbing up from the darkness, looking slim and bold. And holding a silver knife.
              “Why, we meet again, I suppose,” the man said to me before I heard a cracking sound.

Ian Cohen

My plan was perfect.
              3H6 was a drug based on a powder of peliolite leaves that was created in Yellow by the kids. Three years ago, Protectors had bought a few gallons of 3H6 in order to uncover its secret recipe, but none of our scientists cracked the mystery open. What we were able to find out, however, was that this drug enhances people’s fears.
                While visiting his brother at the infirmary, John had stolen some of the substance from the laboratory. At seven this morning, he had gone to the cafeteria and added a few drops of 3H6 into the coffee machine. And at seven
s
-thirty sharp, Protectors, including many jury members, had come into the cafeteria to eat their breakfast as well as drink their morning coffee. And that’s when the plan was to kickoff.
              Jury members would be scared of Xander Macfrey and thus condemn him to the death penalty.
              Though something I hadn’t anticipated happened.
             
“You could have at least given me a heads up,” I argued to Meo. I had called him as soon as the explosions had ceased.
              It normally takes a few hours for the 3H6 to kick in, but because of the unexpected Rascal attack on our HQ, horrified Protectors were now running in the halls like chickens with their heads cut off, the drug probably making them hallucinate strange monsters invading the earth or something.
              “I can’t tell you everything my boss plans,” Meo replied. “Besides, if you’d known, you would have deserted Headquarters with your closest allies and that would have been suspicious.”
              “Oh, and staying here and almost getting myself killed was a better option for you, I suppose? Several Protectors are badly injured, you know? Some may be dead.”
             
As much as I’ve grown to accept Meo’s complete indifference to others’ feelings by now, it still hurts to know how dispensable I am.
              “Were you hurt?”
              “No, but—”
              “Exactly. Thanks to Gareth, we have access to your surveillance camera. We knew where to hit.”
              “You could at least let me know when your boss’ plan includes destroying my workplace. What were you here for, anyway?”
              There was a long pause before he answered. “Wyatt still wants Miss Priam by his side, and my boss simply proved to the Protectors that they are never safe. Call that a terrorist act if you want. Your people should know that our fight isn’t over. And no matter where they hide, we can find them.” Another pause followed and I wished he would ask for my assistance against the Protectors, but the question never came. After a long sigh, Meo said, “If you don’t have any more questions, I’ll leave you to your mess.”
              “Can I help you guys in any way?” I had to ask.
              “No. As I said a month ago, you’re in no way useful if you’re not the leader of the Protectors. Enjoy the rest of your day, Ian.” And he hung up, making my veins boil with a sudden rage.
             
I
am
useful. I would do anything to work alongside Meo. If only he’d help me take control over the Protectors, then we would be unstoppable. But no! He has much greater things to do! He must find Amya because she is special. Amya. I should have killed her when I had the chance. Maybe then Meo would have realized how important I am for the plan, whatever it is. Because I still have no idea what it is. Because I’m not important enough to him. Because I am a mere human with no power at all! And I’m. Just. Useless!
              Without thinking, I threw the coop-hole at the wall next to me with all my strength and kicked my working desk. Again and again, until my toes hurt too badly to continue.
              “Dammit,” I muttered.
              In the past month, I had found a rabbi, I’d started eating kosher, I’d joined a synagogue, and I’d even started to learn Hebrew. But there were several more steps to take before I could officially convert to Judaism. And as long as I was considered a Christian, there was no way I could ever become the leader of the Protectors of Amani. Not while Michelle was still in control.
              Exhaustion knocked at my door every day that I had to fake enjoying working side-by-side with her and doing all her biddings, while making sure more and more of my colleagues noticed how selfish and incompetent she was. Xander’s trial had been the perfect opportunity to seal that belief since, as I was certain, Michelle would never have agreed to sentence him to death; thus, everyone would have realized how weak she really was.
              But that dream had literally been destroyed when the first explosion blasted the main office. Not only was John still in the emergency room due to third-degree burns, but most of his rebel group was also badly injured, unable to help my cause anymore.
              All in all, I felt like absolute crap.
              Two knocks veered me away from my thoughts.
                The door of my office opened, giving place to a ghost I thought I’d gotten rid of weeks ago.
              A cold chill down my spine rendered me silent, unable to move.
              “Ian,” was the only word that came out of Jonathan Cohen’s mouth, as his bloodshot eyes stared at me like a predator stares at its prey.
              He made a quiet step toward me. And another. Then he closed the door behind him.
              Remembering the last time I’d seen him, I wanted to run away. He was sick. Since Meo had implanted the memory of killing my former friend, Jim Bianchi, into his head, Jonathan had gone mad. Almost every day, he tried to end his own life and he mutilated his body. I’d even heard that he couldn’t bear to look at his own reflection in a mirror.
              Since I had visited him a month ago—since he had told me about his memory transplant—I’d always thought he’d try to kill me were he ever to escape from his cell.
             
I consider myself a strong man,
I thought.
Stronger than most because of this rage that forces me to take action every time my life or my reputation is in danger. Every time I feel threatened by someone or something. But this rage is nothing compared to what Jonathan must be feeling.
              Facing him right now, without anyone around, I would have given so much just to make myself invisible. I had no chance if he attacked me.
              But then my brain thought of the only person I knew who could get out of any situation. Meo.
              “Johnny!” I exclaimed, as if speaking to a longtime acquaintance. I even laughed to let out some of my apprehension. “How have you been, man? It’s so good to see you’re doing better…” Even though it was clear, looking at his lacerated skin and crazed eyes, that he’d succumbed to madness a long time ago.
              As it turned out, I wasn’t able to fool him. Jonathan didn’t let me finish before he swiftly jumped over my desk and pinned me to the wall.
              “Make it stop!” He shouted, spitting angrily on my face, his haunted eyes dilated. He gripped at my neck. I tried to escape him but he was too strong. “Make the pain go away. Make it go away!” Tears emerged from the red corners of his eyes and, for a second, I thought they were blood. “I can’t live with it anymore. You have to make it stop!”
              I could have fought back. I could have punched him in the face and knocked him out. But somehow, I knew he’d kill me if I made a brisk move.
              “Make what go away?” I asked with the kindest voice I’d ever used. “How can I help you, Johnny?”
              I wasn’t sure if it was because his breath smelled like rotten eggs or because I was so scared I could have pissed myself, but I started to feel dizzy. Like I was about to faint.
              “The
pain
!” he cried. “Make the pain go away! I can’t! Do you hear me? I can’t! I tried!” Still one hand around my neck, he peeled the sleeve from his left forearm with his teeth and showed me the bloody scars that marked his skin from the elbow to the wrist. “But they won’t let me! They won’t let me get rid of it!”
              I couldn’t understand what he was talking about. Did he mean he wanted me to cut him? Or was it something else? My head spun as I tried to find the words that would calm him, but I couldn’t think of anything. Everything around me became a funny shade of orange… and hazy…
              After a moment of shaking his arm in front of me to make me understand his needs, Jonathan gave up and punched the wall only inches from my face.
              “Memory implant!” he cried. “I can tell you. I remember I can tell only you,” he repeated. “Memory implant. Make it stop! Take it away!” He unexpectedly dropped on my white carpet and burst into tears. “I can’t—make it stop… take the pain away. It’s killing me.”
              Without warning, his right hand reached his left forearm and he started scratching himself. He scraped and picked off his skin. And I was left panting, incapable of finding the words that would sooth his madness. Was I even supposed to stop him? The now black-and-white room rotated and danced in front of my eyes. I had to lean on my desk to keep myself from passing out.
              “Jonathan,” I said, trying to grab his attention. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look at me. And at every piece of skin he peeled off his arm, my body threatened to gag. And the room spun. And my head hurt. “Jonathan, wait,” I said, before I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened the drawer next to me, took the envelope opener and, just before I passed out, stabbed it into Jonathan’s chest, taking away his pain forever.