Stitch (14 page)

26. Elicitation

Alessa sat up and dropped her ethics book into her lap, a blistering pain surging through her head.  The memory of losing Joe seemed to unleash a floodgate.

Alessa’s vision swam as the rest of her memories finally came back to her in a rush of images and sounds and emotions.  An odd stitching sensation surged through her head, like thousands of tiny needles weaving in and out of her brain, pulling her neurons back into place with a firm and unwavering hand.  The pain was searing.

Alessa fought through it and placed the book to the side as gently as she could, struggling not to attract the producers’ attention. She curled up under the blanket, hoping that the production team would interpret her actions as boredom with her studies. Once safely under the covers, she pressed her hands to her temples, tears leaking from her eyes as she grimaced from the pain. She stifled a cry as the throbbing in her head grew more intense and waited for the agony to end. But the onrush of memories persisted, unrelenting.

“That was close.”  Still breathing heavily from their mad dash across the compound, Isaac locked the door, a satisfied smile settling across his face.

Alessa struggled to suppress her ragged breaths, anxious to attract any notice.

Stepping deeper into the small room, Isaac fingered a long, neat row of uniforms hanging on a rack.  “Looks like our intel was good.”

“Let’s just change before anyone finds us here,” Alessa advised.  Alessa had only been in the service of the Rebel Alliance for a few months now, and this was one of the most daring assignments she’d been on yet.  It was one thing to risk getting caught outside the bunks after curfew for a basic reconnaissance mission – at least she could make up some excuse in that case – but if they were discovered stealing wait staff uniforms and sneaking into a meal at the headquarters of the Ruling Class, she didn’t know what explanation could possibly get her out unscathed.

Isaac smiled reassuringly.  “Don’t worry, Less – this isn’t my first attempt at this, and it’s always worked out fine.”  Handing a uniform to her, he added, “Here, this one looks like your size.”

Isaac’s confidence did much to assuage Alessa’s fear – she trusted that Isaac knew what he was doing.  In the aftermath of losing Joe, Isaac had become one of the rebels’ most admired crusaders, flawlessly executing dangerous missions and covertly winning the rebels supporters and allies amongst the workers and the Ruling Class alike.

But in the wake of Joe’s death, Alessa had been in shock at the brutality with which Joe had been apprehended.  She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the finality with which he’d vanished, as if he had never even existed.  But after witnessing Joe’s fate, Alessa knew she could no longer entertain any delusions that Paragon’s rule was benevolent.  Whoever was behind Paragon’s secrets had made it clear that they were not about to let anyone stand in their way, and their show of force with Joe had finally convinced Alessa that something truly sinister was lurking below the surface of their peaceful little settlement.

Watching Isaac honor his brother by fighting back, Alessa had been inspired to finally join hands with the rebels in earnest.  And she’d been relieved to find that her missions allowed her to channel her grief over Joe into rage, a rage that had helped her find a courage inside of herself that she hadn’t known existed.

Taking a deep breath, Alessa mustered that courage and accepted the uniform from Isaac.  At any rate, it was too late to turn back now.  Unzipping her jumpsuit, she turned modestly from Isaac’s view.  Isaac smiled sheepishly before considerately moving to the other side of the rack to afford her some privacy.

In the months since they’d lost Joe, Alessa had been training with the rebels to become a stealth soldier like Isaac, and though they’d initially assigned her another partner, Alessa’s sense of responsibility toward Isaac had led her to ask if he could train her instead; after what Joe had told her about Isaac’s tendency to blame himself for every misfortune that befell his loved ones, she wanted to be able to keep an eye on him.  Over the course of their missions, though, Isaac and Alessa had had ample opportunity to reminisce about Joe, and their shared grief had brought them closer than either of them had expected.

As Alessa got to know Isaac’s quirks and values and dreams, she could feel the beginnings of something deeper blossoming towards him.  She was surprised to see how quickly Isaac was growing into a man, emulating all the good qualities of his brother while adding his own brand of kindness and humor and intellect.  She’d never thought she’d fall for someone younger than her, but Isaac had been through enough to mature him well beyond his 21 years, and Alessa respected him immensely.

And as much as Alessa tried to ignore it, there was something else there lately as well, a maddening fluttering in her chest that she couldn’t seem to quell whenever Isaac was around.  Peeking through the rack of uniforms, Alessa caught a glimpse of his broad bare back, the taut muscles in his shoulders rippling as he slipped on the stiffly starched uniform shirt.  Alessa could feel something stirring inside her, something she hadn’t felt since… well, since Joe.

Feeling guilty, Alessa knew she should look away, but her eyes lingered on Isaac just a moment longer.  He began to turn in her direction and she quickly turned aside.  Reddening, she hoped he hadn’t caught her spying.

“Ready to go?”  Isaac peeked around the rack and Alessa smiled in affirmation.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Isaac led the way back out into the hallway, striding calmly but purposefully towards the location of the main dining room.  Pausing at the threshold, he tossed one quick glance over his shoulder to confirm they’d found their mark and continued in.

Alessa rounded the corner behind Isaac and her eyes bulged as she took in the magnificent room before her.  She’d known the Ruling Class was housed in what was once a lavish hotel, but she hadn’t been prepared for the opulence that now barraged her senses.

The room itself was exquisite, a massive ballroom bedecked with intricate wood moldings and extravagant sparkling chandeliers hung from high arched ceilings.  Unlike the other structures in Paragon – most of which struggled to maintain even their current level of shabby disrepair – this room gleamed and shone from every surface.  Even before the war, Alessa had never seen anything so grand.

Hundreds of well-heeled guests sat poised around long tables, beautiful women – attentive and smiling – silently flitting amongst the bevy of mostly older men who slurped their goblets of wine and eyed the women greedily.  Laid out before them all was a sumptuous meal of roasted meats and hearty cheeses and vibrant fresh vegetables.  Alessa’s mouth watered at the smell of hot bread and garlic wafting in the air.

Alessa had heard rumors that the Ruling Class was living a more comfortable life than did the workers, but this was beyond even her wildest imagination.  Compared to this feast – which Alessa had been led to understand was a normal everyday meal – most of the people of Paragon were living in what could only be described as abject squalor.  Alessa hadn’t known that this much food even
existed
within the colony’s borders, let alone that an upper class of bureaucrats was gorging themselves on it on a daily basis.  She was appalled – there was no other way to describe it.

After a quick nudge from Isaac, Alessa realized her jaw was hanging open and she quickly snapped it shut.  Following the lead of the other waiters, Alessa and Isaac cleared empty plates and refilled wine glasses, staying as inconspicuous as they could.  Alessa did her best to muffle the rumbling of her empty stomach so that she could listen in on as many conversations as possible.

What she heard aligned well to her expectations – some mild debates about housing policy, discussions of proposed job assignment procedures, one pair of guests arguing vehemently over how many children each family should be entitled to have.  And all the while, the lovely, impassive concubines passed new platters of delicacies and popped fresh bottles of wine, their expressions eerily dead-eyed despite their unbroken smiles.

From what the rebels had learned, these men were tasked with determining suitable laws and policies for Paragon’s society, but even years after the compound’s gates had been closed, little progress had been made.  And given what Alessa was seeing, she could easily understand how the Ruling Class had ended up in this state – who
would
want to resolve these disputes when every minute they delayed saw them plied with more food and drink and flesh than any man could want?

As the meal concluded, Isaac and Alessa hurried back to the supply room where their jumpsuits were stashed.  Locking the door behind him once more, Isaac turned to Alessa.

“So what’d you think?  Was it what you were expecting?”

Alessa just shook her head and swallowed – the scent of roast beef clung to her nostrils as she closed her eyes in envy. She couldn’t put her feelings into words.

Isaac understood.  “Sickening, isn’t it?  The rest of us are practically starving out there, laboring 12 hours a day to haul their trash and dig their wells and clean their city.  And these people barely even know we’re alive, stuffed as they are with bacon and brie and cabernet.”  Isaac was practically spitting.

His bitterness was mirrored in Alessa’s gut, which roiled uncomfortably.  Alessa had really believed that the rumors were exaggerated; she’d even been willing to concede that perhaps if these people really
were
working for the benefit of everyone in Paragon, that perhaps they deserved some special perks.  But not like this.  This was just an insult.

“Those women…” Alessa looked up at Isaac.  “Are they all… like Lizzie?”

Isaac sighed wearily.  “Did you see their eyes, Less?”

Alessa shook the memory away; she was afraid she might throw up.

Isaac tentatively took her hand.  “Come on.  We need to go report to Regina what we heard.”

Still curled under the covers in her bed, Alessa clutched her shoulders as her memories continued to surface.  Gradually, the onslaught slowed and her headache began to subside.

She and Isaac had spent the next two years taking on ever more dangerous reconnaissance missions in an effort to gather the information they would need to bring their enemies down.  Isaac continued to be Alessa’s constant partner, and together they had become some of Regina’s most trusted soldiers.

But despite their many small triumphs, Regina and the other leaders of the movement soon realized that they were fighting a losing battle.  Some devastating losses throttled morale within the ranks, not the least of which was Lizzie Green’s recapture, which forced Regina to go into hiding to escape the Ruling Class’s subsequent investigation.  One by one, important rebel affiliates seemed to disappear, occasionally cast on the TV dramas in a thinly-veiled effort to provoke those who were still undercover.

Without being able to wage open mutiny, the rebels were limited in their resources, and the threat of discovery put them in constant danger.  In order to take down the Ruling Class and free the people of Paragon from further manipulation, the rebels needed to escape the confines of the colony and create their own stronghold.  But with the deadly virus still potentially lurking outside the gates, it wasn’t clear if the rebels could survive an exodus.

To determine the feasibility of escape, Isaac and Alessa had been entrusted with a mission to sneak offsite and conduct reconnaissance, looking both for any remaining traces of the plague and for a suitable new home for the rebels.  Janie – who had by this point become enthralled with the Rebel Alliance despite Alessa’s best efforts to keep her from getting involved – supported the leaders’ decision to send Isaac and Alessa.  She was convinced that fleeing was their only long-term means for survival, and there was no one she trusted more to carry out this crucial mission.

But something had gone awry the night that Alessa and Isaac had set out on their fateful mission, and they’d been apprehended while trying to steal across the compound’s borders.  Painfully, Alessa remembered that their detainment had almost been her undoing.

Tap, tap.  Tap tap tap.  Tap.

Alessa listened closely to each cue, the code Isaac had taught her during her early training days proving immensely useful now that they were locked up down the hall from each other and under constant surveillance by the prison’s guards.

After four weeks in Paragon’s penitentiary, Alessa and Isaac had figured out the prison’s routines and pinpointed the weaknesses in its security procedures.  They’d been able to communicate coded messages to the other prisoners during mealtimes and recreation, and they had a plan in place to break free.  Now they were only waiting for their chance.

Alessa had been shocked to find that the detention center was surprisingly primitive, with the same cinderblock cells and iron bars and metal cuffs that’d been used to keep people locked up for hundreds of years.  Only the high-tech locking mechanisms that secured the bolts of her cell door – and the clinical white interrogation rooms decked out with shiny monitors and insidious mechanical torture devices – marked this place as a modern dungeon.  But what the guards hadn’t figured out yet was that a regular old steel lock would have been far more effective than the fancy fingerprint scanners they currently employed.

Tap, tap, tap.  Tap.

That was the signal – two guards were working their way down either end of the hall to release the prisoners one by one for the evening meal.  Isaac was planning to delay the guard at his end of the cellblock until the guard on Alessa’s side reached her cell.  Already, she could faintly hear commotion stirring from Isaac’s direction.