Flawed (32 page)

“Should I bring some tea?” Corporal Kraus asked.

“No, thank you,” Aalexis answered. “We have other pressing matters. Our meeting will be short.”

“That will be all, Corporal.”

Relief flashing across his face, the young man backed out of the office and closed the door. Hans didn’t blame him. The young people in front of him had that effect. The commander took his seat, grateful for the expanse of the desk. Silence entered the room, blanket-like, as four azure eyes studied him. Uncomfortable under the heavy stares, Hans adjusted himself in the chair, leaning back in his chair and trying to appear relaxed.

“As you requested, Doc is still alive,” he said, unsure of what information they wanted. “I have reassigned him to lighter duty.”

Holding Hans’ gaze, Aalexis said, “I noticed how everyone seems more…comfortable. Better fed. Is there a reason for such treatment?”

Forcing a relaxed smile, which felt anything but relaxed, Hans replied, “I had need for a new recreation center for my men. I wanted to make sure it was completed.” The lie coated his tongue.

Aalexis seemed to buy the untruth. Then, again, he couldn’t have detected otherwise; the void on her face remained unchanging. “Yes. The new building. It will be perfect.”

“Excuse me?”

“My brother and I require quarters during our stay.”

“Oh?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “How long do you expect to stay?”

“For as long as is needed. I assume the Colonel has notified you.”

“Yes,” he answered tersely.

Studying him, Aalexis paused for a moment. “I understand your reservations. Let me assure you, though, Xaver and I are quite capable of running the camp.”

“What?” The Commandant balked, taken aback. He started to stand, but the tension in Xaver’s jaw reminded him to stay seated. “I do not understand. I was asked to cooperate. There wasn’t anything said about you…” He couldn’t even complete the sentence; anger held his tongue. To hell with the Colonel. “I will contact the General about this.”

Unaffected by his outburst, Aalexis removed an envelope from an inside pocket. “You do as you see fit,” she said handing him the paperwork. “I do assure you the Colonel and the General understand our arrangement. I think you will find everything in order.”

Hands shaking, Hans opened the envelope and produced a white sheet of paper and a yellow copy. The official seal, an eagle over the SS bolts, was pressed onto the top. With growing fury, Hans’ blood pressure reddened his cheeks as he read the orders. At the bottom were the signatures of General Richert and, below that, Colonel Fiedler. He forced his eyes away from the scrawl at the bottom of the page and looked at Aalexis. For the briefest of seconds, Hans was sure he saw pleasure fleeting across her face before it disappeared under the impassiveness.

No longer caring about the repercussions, Hans stood. “I will not stand for this. This is an outrage.”

There. He saw it. The corner of Aalexis’ lip atypically twitched as if she found his infuriation humorous. Whether or not she realized the subtle hint of emotion, it quickly disappeared. Both she and Xaver rose to their feet, their faces stone.

“You,” Aalexis emphasized, her tone calm, but Hans heard the implication, “do not have a choice. Need I provide a physical reminder?”

Aalexis didn’t say of what, but she didn’t need to. Hans clearly remembered the pain Doc had endured, as if the incident had happened yesterday. Glancing at Xaver, who remained still by his sister’s side, the commander sank back down, defeated.

“I thought you might see things my way. You are hereby relieved of your duties as the Commandant of Amarufoss.”

“Yes.”

“My next question to you is, do we have your support?”

What else was there to say?

“How may I be of assistance?”

The scent of soap surrounded the group as they headed toward the dining hall with Dr. Loki as escort. Even if the shower had to be rushed, the hot water beating against Ellyssa’s skin had been just short of paradise, especially after washing with a rag soaked in lukewarm water inside a cold tent.

Feeling refreshed, Ellyssa followed the doctor, who greeted his fellow inhabitants’ curious stares with a warm smile. Rein walked next to her, his hand in hers, and Woody was on her other side, his hair still damp. Dyllon and Trista were behind them, whispering to each other.

Woody kept glancing at her, a weird look on his face, then his eyes met Rein’s. The two males shared some sort of silent exchange she could have easily picked up on but didn’t. After a moment of them looking at each other, Rein nodded.

“I need to talk to you,” Woody said in her ear. His clean smell invaded her nose.

Ellyssa’s brow dipped. “About?”

Woody’s eyes jerked toward Dr. Loki, then back to her. “Why don’t you just look?” he mumbled.

Eyebrows arching, Ellyssa glanced at Rein. Whatever it was, he was in the know, because he dipped his chin.

She looked back at Woody, who widened his eyes and gave several short nods with his head, hurrying her along. Even with Woody’s permission, the act felt wrong. Over the last few months, she’d made it a point not to peek. But whatever floated within his head must be important. Rein wanted her to, Woody invited her to, and judging by Dyllon’s anxious expression, he knew, too. Taking in a deep breath, Ellyssa formed a gate within her mental barricade and swung it open. So attuned to his distinct signature, Woody’s thoughts easily filed in, clear words and images, one after the other.

Can you hear me?

Strange to have a one-way conversation with someone inside her head. Ellyssa usually just went incognito, snatched what she wanted and left. A smile lifted her mouth as she nodded.

I think you can influence our emotions
.

That shocked her, so not what she’d been expecting him to say. “What?” she thought. A snicker bubbled in her chest when Ellyssa remembered the dialogue wasn’t like an expressway.

Irritation lined Woody’s face.
Look
. She could hear the exasperation in his nonverbal word.

The lines in Woody’s forehead deepened as if he was trying to jam his thoughts into her head. Picking someone’s brain didn’t work that way. Ellyssa rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Chagrin coloring his cheeks, Woody’s face smoothed and, as if a vein had been opened, his thoughts flowed. A conversation he’d with Rein and Dyllon in their newly acquired rooms about the calming effect she had on him when he was about to confront the doctor. In Woody’s head, Rein’s jaw dropped, but Dyllon nodded as if he already knew.

Then she remembered the incidents back at the farmhouse. Rein had stopped beating Dyllon after she’d touched him, a confused and frightened Dyllon calming down during the same incident. The time in the van after Sarah and Tim had been murdered—Trista’s anguish had dissipated after Ellyssa had touched her, too, when she wanted the grief to go away.

Had her ability evolved like Aalexis’?

Was it possible?

Could she change how people felt by a mere touch of her hand and a flow of her emotions?

All at once, everything shut down as her mind tried to wrap around the possibility. Ellyssa stumbled forward, struck by the implications of such a development. Rein placed his hand on the small of her back to steady her, his touch sending a zing of electricity up her spinal cord, jump-starting her neurons to complete the synapses.

Just as Dr. Loki turned around as Ellyssa corrected her step and offered him an embarrassed smile to hide the astonishment her expression had to have been carrying. He returned the smile and continued on his way.

As Ellyssa followed the doctor with her group, her mind flipped through the memories over and over; the change of emotions did seem to be reactive to her mental want. Dyllon had even questioned her back at Tim and Sarah’s, and she’d laughed away the idea as nonsense.

But it wasn’t nonsense, and Ellyssa should’ve known better. She was a product of a fairytale. A fictional character born from between the pages of a novel.

Her gift progressing was just as likely as her sister’s. Like the mental blockade she’d learned to build to keep out the nonstop bombardment of people’s thoughts and the gate she’d learned to open to specific people’s. This new ability required her to learn to flex another mental muscle.

As the doctor stopped at a set of metal rungs and turned to face them, her countenance blanked. She filed away the information to examine later, which wasn’t going to be an easy task, but she had other pressing matters. And as much as the new light that had been shed on her ever-evolving ability, Ellyssa wanted to know more about The Pit and their host.

“Before we head to dinner, I’d like to show you something,” Dr. Loki said. “I think you will be impressed.” He climbed up the ladder and pulled a lever that held the door shut. A plate moved to the side and the hatch opened inwards. From above, moist air and the scent of earth drifted down.

“Follow me, please,” the doctor said as he pulled himself through the hole.

Ellyssa was awestruck as soon as she poked her head through the opening. Smiling, Dr. Loki offered her a hand and helped her up onto the metal grating.

Her widening eyes soaked in the architectural astonishment as Ellyssa turned in a circle. In a steel-encased room, greenery stretched before her. Below them, plants and trees flourished. Overhead, grow lights hung from beams stationed six meters above, swathing the area in the light and warmth of a mild summer’s day. Beads of perspiration formed on the tip of her nose from the humidity. She wiped them away.

“Wow,” said Rein as he joined her.

Dr. Loki beamed. “I know.”

“How?” asked Trista, her voice swaddled in disbelief.

“Brought here by the founders,” Dr. Loki answered simply. “This concept had been around even before the war. The scientist who founded The Pit utilized it. Of course, improvements were made through the years.” He moved down a grated walkway. “Come.”

The doctor stopped at a small grove of orange trees, their tops pruned to perfectly round. An abundance of oranges hung from the branches. On one side, the fruit was still green; on the other, the fruit was ripe. “We are able to produce more fruit by keeping the trees trimmed. The technique directs more nutrients to the fruit instead of the growth of the tree. Plus, we save space for growing other food.”

He started to move again, and they all followed. Pointing at the variety of fruits and vegetables, he continued. “Over here we have corn and potatoes. Here are the apple trees. Beans, bell peppers, onions, strawberries, lettuce, cauliflower.” He stopped and looked at them. “The list goes on and on.”

“Do you rotate the crops?” Dyllon asked.

“No need. We treat our waste and reuse it for fertilizer and irrigation.”

Looking at the overhead lights, Woody frowned. “There is no way the solar panels we saw in the tunnel produce enough electricity to power all of this,
and
your computers,
and
your water heater.”

As soon as he spoke, Ellyssa heard the real source of their power. A gurgling bubbled over by the far wall.

“Water?” she asked.

“Exactly. Let me show you.”

Ellyssa didn’t need to catch a read on him to know how much pride the male had in the establishment. She herself was beyond impressed. Keeping with the doctor’s pace and wishing he would walk faster, excitement grew as the gurgling became louder.

Finally, their host stopped at an aqueduct. Clear water rushed through the canals, pushing a row of cylinders with paddles in a circle. Wires connected to nodules at the ends of the cylinders and joined together at different conductor boxes. From the top of the boxes, a single thick cable protruded and ran toward a red door.

“Our electricity,” he presented with a wave of his hand. “We built a series of underground canals from the Red River.” He paused for a moment. “The river in the canyon you stayed in. It wasn’t an easy feat, but we did it. This is how we power our establishment. The computers, the grow lights, our water treatment. Everything.”

“Impressive,” said Dyllon.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Put that over there,” Mathew said to Marcus, a prisoner of about eighteen with light-brown hair and dark brown eyes. His nose had been broken on more than one occasion, and a scar marred his left cheek from the corner of his mouth to his ear. Overall, a good-looking young man who deserved a better life than the one that’d been dealt to him.

Marcus had been at Amarufoss a few months before Mathew arrived and, at the time, had been nothing but skin wrapped around bones. In the last few weeks, though, since Mathew struck the deal with the Commandant, Marcus had plumped up like a teenager should. Marcus was the last of his group still alive, caught by area police five years ago during a routine trip to get food. His father had been with him. The last memory Marcus had of him was the back of his head disintegrating when a bullet exited. His father had been trying to protect him.

Marcus smiled, which wasn’t something he did often, but over the last few days had become more frequent. “Why are we rearranging this… again?” He dropped the bed frame on the floor.

Casting a glance over to the two soldiers standing guard by the door, Mathew immediately started to assemble the metal pieces of the frame. When held prisoner at a concentration camp, loitering wasn’t allowed.

The soldiers didn’t seemed to be paying much attention to them, though, as neither of them posed a threat. Besides, both men were probably happy they’d been assigned to indoor detail instead of weathering the wind. Within an hour, the temperature must have plummeted into negative numbers.

“Visitors,” Mathew answered. He’d seen the blonde demon child come through the gate.

After the bed was completed, Marcus grabbed the new mattress still in the packaging. “Visitors? Who in the hell would want to come here?”

Mathew shrugged. He didn’t see any reason to worry the boy. After all, Marcus had been in the system too long, the evidence marring his young face. Mathew had to give the teen credit; the boy had endurance. A strong will to live. Like most of the others, Marcus should’ve died within months of being captured.