Token (Token Chronicles) (8 page)

She eyes me intriguingly and asks, “You are Trainee 15892, correct?”

Her voice is much more pleasant to listen to than the rough bellows of Ambassador Tarik. I nod my head at her to confirm her question not wanting to speak out of turn, still wondering whether or not I should attack this woman. But she has done nothing to me or my friends, as far as I know.

“They tell me you are called Kincaid, here. Is it all right if I call you Kincaid, as well? I have always just been so fascinated with the names all of you get at Island 2.”

Once again, I give her a head nod to let her know it is okay without giving any verbal response.

“First, I would like to apologize for the actions of Ambassador Tarik. Once we heard what happened, we intervened immediately.”

For some reason, I trust this woman. I detect genuine sincerity in her voice.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “How rude of me! I have forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Quinn. I am the Emissary over the Hawk Island program. I manage all of the Ambassadors of each Island and oversee all transactions.”

“When your case came across my table, I saw both the offers that were made for you, but I was amazed as to why you had not been sold for either offer,” she says in explanation. “You were still here on this Island. When I called Tarik, he did not answer. So I tapped into the security feed here at the mansion, and I saw you were being confined and looked severely beaten.”

She walks over and delicately caresses my face around my broken nose and says, “These actions are not tolerated by our Ambassadors. You are a highly touted Token. For goodness sakes, both of the offers for you were more than we have ever been offered for a Token in the history of this program,” she says with jubilation.

Although she seems sincere, I still proceed guardedly. I raise my hand asking for permission to speak but she pulls my hand back down and says, “Don’t be ridiculous. Speak. Say whatever you want.”

I almost feel like she is sucking up to me now, but I gladly take her up on her offer.

“My friends,” I raspily blurt out. All the screaming has apparently taken my voice away, but I try to continue. “Are they okay? Are they alive?” I ask.

She gives me a soft assuring look and says, “Yes, they are all fine. Hadley, Benja, Nayze, Yency, all of them.”

I automatically exhale in relief. But, wait, if they are all alive, whose fresh blood is puddled on the floor? Is she lying to me? She must sense I do not believe her because I am sure the white above my eyes is giving away my tepidness.

She grabs my hand, looks me directly in my eyes and says, “Don’t worry about the Ambassador or his threats, he will never be a problem for Island 3 again.”

Then, I realize what she is saying. He won’t be a problem for me or this Island again because it was his fresh blood pooled on the floor. The shot I heard was not meant for one of my friends, but for him. Ambassador Tarik is dead. She must realize I have understood what she meant.

“Ambassador Tarik has been here too long. He thought he was above his rank. He thought this Island belonged to him, and he was the supreme ruler. But he had forgotten the reason this program was founded by our Grodarian ruler. To bring wealth and prosperity to our Federation, and praise to Cromus. His goal was to bring in the most profits for every prospect, not question motives for why one of the Elitists may want you. Besides, you are just so handsome, what was so hard to believe,” she says surprisingly believable. “But we expect you to hold up your end of the bargain, it is your duty. After all, we have provided for you with nourishment and training for your body, while children back in Knav suffer and wither away. We expect you to be grateful and proudly serve us in return for all that we have done for you.”

She looks at me and seems to remember I am badly disfigured at the moment and says, “I understand the torment you must have suffered, but it was never supposed to happen. It is not the way I control these Islands. I will make this right. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?” she asks.

This is my chance. My opportunity to find out where Hadley is. I can barely contain myself when I ask, “Where was Hadley sold to? I must know.”

She says with deep regret hinted in her voice, “Unfortunately, it is not even within my power to disclose such information to you.”

I am crushed. The ruler of all nine Hawk Islands won’t even tell me where she is. I am already racing to think of some other way to find her, but she stops my mind when she interjects with one more notion.

“What I can tell you, however, is the same Elitist who bought her, made one of the original offers for you too.” My eyes light up, but she continues before I get my hopes up and can ask anything else. “But, there have been more than the two original offers. This is the reason I felt necessary to come down here myself to put a stop to Tarik. You have drawn more interest than any other Token we have ever auctioned. Whether the other Elitists found out about the other two high offers and are acting out of jealousy or just trying to spite the other, the offers have exploded.”

I cannot think of anything to say. I do not understand why there is so much interest in me. It makes absolutely no sense. But I begin to think maybe I am beginning to earn some sort of leverage here. They obviously want to keep me happy because I may potentially earn them a huge chunk of money. So I plan to milk this opportunity for as long as possible.

“I would like to see my friends, just to be sure they are actually okay.”

She smiles and says, “I thought you might make that request.”

She raises her left hand and motions for the Grods to open the door. When they do, I see they all three are still there and seem to be physically unharmed. I begin to rush over to them, but my body is still too battered and bruised to move quickly. They come to me instead, and we all embrace each other, but I cringe in pain at every hug.

They all talk to me so fast I have no time to answer any of them.

“Are you alright?”

“What happened to you?”

“We were worried sick. Thought you had gotten yourself killed.”

“I am fine now,” I answer. “Just thankful to see all of you are okay.”

The Grods step back in between us and direct them back outside of the office and quickly shut the doors ending our brief reconciliation. I am disappointed our reunion was so short, but I turn back to look at Emissary Quinn.

She says, “I just wanted to show you I can be generous as long as you are compliant. I expect the same of you in regards to your time and service.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, because you have generated so much interest, we have decided to take advantage of this opportunity. We are going to throw you into this quarter’s auction, and we have already been sending out mass waves of advertisements for the auction for weeks,” she says gleamingly. “You will be our prized Token.”

I realize again I have had no sense of time since I have been brought to the Ambassador’s mansion. The last time I was out, the next auction was a week away. Maybe I will have a few days before I am sent up.

“When is the auction going to take place?”

“Tomorrow,” she replies. “If you are going to be ready in time, we have quite a bit of work to do. First, we have to restore you, to get you back to normal. We need all of this done by tonight so we can send out more last minute commercials tomorrow. It will be quite the event, we are expecting our largest cash influx ever for the auction!” she exclaims. “Because of the highly anticipated interest from the Elitists for this particular auction, we are even throwing in some of our other top prospects in. Your friends will be going through too. Isn’t that just so exciting?”

I am relieved to hear I will not be going through this process alone, but I begin to feel guilty. This may make the process easier for me, but their lives, like mine, will essentially be over three months earlier. All because of me.

She waves the Grods over and orders, “Take him to the Restoration Rooms.” She looks at me and says, “Don’t worry, they will have you back to normal in no time. I know you will do just great tomorrow.”

The Grods do not grab me this time, but they point me in which direction to go as they flank me on both sides. Once we are in the metallic box, they press a button, and I feel the force of the movement indicate we are going to a lower level than before. The ride takes longer than the previous ride to the office. I am guessing we are now below ground.

We step out into the clean white polished hallway and walk towards the double doors at the end. When the doors open, all I can see in the room is a seven-foot long copper colored tube supported by six wide arching legs sitting directly in the center of the room. There is a mirror behind the box with a door to its left, but nothing else. A thin black-haired woman with brown sunken eyes and pale brightly painted skin approaches. I have never seen a woman’s face with so much color. On her lips, cheeks, eyelids. Almost everything seems to be decorated with a color different from her natural skin. Hadley was always so beautiful whether she had been working all day out in the sun or just waking from a nap. There was never a change to her exquisiteness, but even I would have a hard time trying to recognize her in this getup.

 The painted lady commands the Grods “Go, go, go, I have got it from here. Go!” as she almost shoves them out the doors.

She then looks at me and repugnantly says with a squeaky voice, “Ugh, you are in just awful shape. But fret not, I will have you looking just handsome in no time at all!”

I just stand there having a hard time not looking at her clown face, but she starts to push me towards the tube persistently saying, “Get in, get in. We have got to get going. We are on a tight schedule. I have to make you whole again,” she says as she gives my nose a playful honk.

I instinctively yelp in pain. What is wrong with this lady? Can’t she see my nose is broken?

She just looks at me and says, “Oh, hush. Get over it baby. Now get in the tube before I tranq you and put you in there myself.”

Not wanting to look at her or hear her excessive nagging and rude manners, I just walk over to the tube and crawl in the entrance at the bottom. I hear her from the outside, “You could have just opened it from the top, you know.” She laughs as the sound of her steps start to fade. I hear the door next to the mirror click shut. Just as I am fully entered into the tube, I hear her voice emitting from a speaker inside the tube. Great, I think. I thought I was getting in this thing to quit hearing her talk.

“Now stay very still. Don’t move. Got it?” she says.

“Yes,” I grunt.

I feel a suction from the machine surround my entire body. I ignore her advice and try to move but without any success. Whatever this machine is going to do, there is no escape. I am securely frozen in place.

Bright lights begin to radiate from every corner of the tube, and my entire body begins to burn with prickling sensations underneath every inch of my skin. My nose and shoulder feel as if they are immersed in fire they are burning so badly. It feels as if the bones are shifting around in there trying to search for their correct places. In a few minutes, the lights begin to dim and eventually shut off. The shrill voice comes over the intercom and enthusiastically says, “All done. Now get out of there!”

I find I am now able to move freely and decide to take her advice from before. I push at the top of the tube until I find a handle and open the apparatus. When I begin to climb out, I see she is already standing there waiting for me with a brimming smile from ear to ear. She spins me around to face the large mirror on the wall, and even I am surprised at what reflection is staring back at me. My nose is completely healed, as well as my shoulder. I can feel the lack of pain in those areas, but everything else I see is what confounds me. My muscles seem to be tighter against my skin, my skin has gained back the bronzed color I had lost over the last few days, and the dark circles under my eyes from the many sleepless nights since Hadley has been gone are now erased. The only thing that remains completely intact are my deep azure eyes staring back at me in confusion over this image they perceive. I still look like myself, but it is as if I have never worked a hard day of work in my life. The calices and busted blisters on my hands are gone, and my tough skin is now as soft as a baby.

“Pretty impressive, huh. I know. I am a genius,” she says smugly.

I don’t know what she is so happy about. I preferred the battered version of myself over this uncomfortable handsomeness. But I guess this is what all Tokens go through before auction. To get them ready for the Elitists. To make us look so beautiful and wholesome they will create bidding wars amongst each other for us.

“Alright, alright, now quit staring at yourself,” she says as she jerks me away from the mirror. “You’ve got to get out of here now. Ulfred is waiting next door for you. Go, go, go,” she says as she shoos me away the same way she did the Grods. “I’ve got too many appointments today. Too many appointments!”

I remember I never got her name, but I am sure I will never see her again so I proceed to leave as instructed. I step out of the swinging double doors, and the Grods both point at a single door to the right. I step through the door, and a dark-skinned man with bleached hair quickly walks me over to a screen and pulls out the metal object with a tube from its center, a camera I think Zeke called it. I just listen to what he says, and the camera flashes several times. We are done in a matter of minutes, and he just keeps repeating to himself, “Magnificent, magnificent, just magnificent. These are going to be magnificent.”

He informs me I am done, and the Grods will escort me back to my shack for the night because I have an early morning and long day ahead of me tomorrow. When I step outside, I ask one of the Grods if Zeke is on shift today out in the fields. They kindly inform me he is, and I ask if he can be the one to walk me back to my shack. They look as if they are about to say no when I interject, “Or I can just go tell Emissary Quinn that you two are not catering to my every need.” They look at each other with intense fear. As if they were already disobeying an order they were supposed to have been given. They quickly comply without further question.