Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) (11 page)

“HELLO?”

A distant voice calls to
me. It’s faint and muted to the point where I can barely hear it. I strain my
ears, desperate to be closer to the woman trying to bring me back from what I’m
almost certain is near death.

“Can you hear me?” she
asks.

I reach for her.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want to die.

I want to wake up.

My eyelids twitch open.
Everything is clouded, and I wince against the bright light dangling overhead.
All at once, a feeling of panic rushes through me. It’s too similar, too
reminiscent of the DSD.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I don’t want this.

I want to wake up.

I want to go
home
.

Do I, though?
I ask myself.

I think of my mother. I
think of her betrayal.

No. Home is no longer an
option.

I have nowhere else to go.

“She’s awake.”

I hesitate before opening
my eyes again. The light isn’t as harsh this time, but it still takes several
moments for the fog hindering my eyesight to clear enough to see. When it does,
I find the woman responsible for saving my life leaning over me. She’s
beautiful, with tanned skin and long brown hair that falls neatly down her
back. Large chocolate eyes gaze into mine with a kindness shining behind them
that seems alien to me.

She exhales when our eyes
meet—a sigh that, strangely enough, seems like one of relief.

The sound of footsteps
distracts me, coming from the other side of what appears to be a storeroom. I
look around, blinking against the blinding glare of the light. Another person
steps into my limited range of vision, but all I can make out is a black
silhouette.

As everything comes into
focus, and my eyes fully adjust, I’m able to see the face of the person staring
down at me.

I’m able to see the face of
Ezra Laramie.

“It’s time to talk,” he
says.

I try to sit up, to move
into a less vulnerable position than the one I’m in now. The woman rushes
forward, wrapping her hands around my shoulders in an effort to help me.

“Careful,” she murmurs.
“You’re still weak.”

My head spins as I
straighten up. I press the heel of my hand against my right temple, hoping to
ease the dizziness attempting to drag me back down.

“What happened?” I ask.
“Where am I?” I shake my head once before glancing between them.

A soft laugh rumbles in
Ezra's throat. “Someplace where no one will find you,” he answers.

The woman flashes him an
annoyed look. “You lost a lot of blood and blacked out,” she explains, keeping
her voice level and calm. “Do you remember?”

My wrist aches at the mere
mention of everything I’ve been through, and all too quickly, I remember what
I’ve done. I glance down at my arm, trying to piece together the fragmented
memory of what happened at
The Vega
. I remember finding Ezra, but the
extent of our conversation after that is one big blur.

I recall enough to know how
it ended, though. After all, it’s obvious by the way he looks at me.

My lips part, and I’m about
to answer her when the door bangs open, and a third person bounds into the
room. Ezra and the woman both turn away from me at the same moment, clearly as
taken aback by this interruption as I am. My heart begins to race, but
curiosity gets the best of me. I lean to the side, peering around them to get a
better look at the newcomer.

Messy black hair frames the
face of the man standing in front of us. Wide, childlike eyes stare back into
mine, and I notice his lips twist with the slightest trace of a smile. His
expression is startling—mainly because it’s the complete opposite of what I
expected to find here.

“Is that her?” he asks,
nodding toward me.

Ezra scowls at him, and
grunts, “Hey, I thought I told you to stay out of this.”

“And miss all the
excitement?” A mischievous grin flashes across the man’s face.

I watch their exchange with
both fascination and bewilderment. Are these people
really
members of
PHOENIX? Of the renowned terrorist group that has taken countless lives?

The very idea of it seems
questionable.

The man ignores Ezra and
takes a few steps until he’s standing in front of me. I reel back when he bends
forward, our faces now only a few inches apart. He looks me over, rubbing his
chin as he tilts his head.

“Hmm . . . she’s pretty
cute for a spy.”

“I’m not a spy,” I blurt
out in response.

My heart rate nearly
doubles as I take in the single skeptical expression worn by the three people
before me. For some reason, I look over at Ezra. He’s staring back at me with
that same remote distance in his eyes, except now he’s holding Richter’s coat.

“Then why did you have
this?” he asks.

I breathe in, silently
berating myself for stealing the damn thing in the first place. “It’s
complicated,” I whisper.

He places the coat on the
table beside me. “Okay . . . then how do you know my name?”

I swallow. I can’t tell him
the truth. Not now.

They’ll never believe me.

Not without seeing it.

“Also complicated,” I
breathe.

Ezra takes a heated step
forward, and I can see his hand reaching for what I assume must be his gun. The
woman steps between us, seemingly eager to defuse the situation.

“Look,” she says to me. “We
want to believe you, but you need to help us out a little. Just tell us
something
.”

I consider her for a
moment, all too aware that I have no other choice, except to tell them what
they want to know. If I don’t, they’ll probably kill me. If I do, well, they
may still kill me. But what alternative do I have? If I try to escape, all
that’s left for me to go back to is the DSD, and like hell do I plan to go back
there.

Besides, why would I have
bothered coming here at all if my intentions weren’t to help PHOENIX in some
way? Sure, I came here to find Ezra, but I should have known that wouldn’t be
enough.

I weigh my options.

“My name is Wynter Reeves,”
I finally answer, deciding my best bet is to go with the truth. “A couple of .
. . I . . . I don’t know how long it’s been . . . .” I stammer.

The realization is somewhat
horrifying, as if I’ve lost a chunk of my life that I’ll never get back. How
much time has passed? It feels like years since I sat my exam, but
realistically, it can’t have been more than a few months.

“Since what?” the woman
asks.

I meet her expectant gaze
and take a long deep breath, preparing myself for their inevitable reaction.

“Since I was taken by the
DSD,” I murmur.

All of their eyes land on
me at once.

“Come again?” the
black-haired man splutters. The tone of his voice seems to mirror what the
others are feeling.

“Jenner,” Ezra snaps.

The other man, Jenner,
abruptly goes silent. Still, in spite of the hush, I can sense them all
watching me. Waiting with bated breath for my story to continue.

I shake my head, suddenly
feeling flustered. “I was sitting my work placement exam.” I hesitate, feeling
uneasy. “By the time I got home, the Enforcers were already there.”

“What did they want with
you?” Ezra asks.

“I . . . I didn’t finish
the exam. I left in the middle.”

He looks away from me, and
out of the corner of my eye, I see the woman glance up at him. She seems
confused, as if something I’ve said simply doesn’t add up.

“That doesn’t make any
sense,” she says. “The DSD doesn’t deal with minor crimes.”

“Is blowing off the exam
even considered a punishable offense?” Jenner pipes in.

I watch as the three of
them debate amongst themselves, trying to determine why the DSD would show an
interest in me—in particular, why they would care if I finished my placement
exam. They don’t seem to feel that the test matters, even though it’s the
deciding factor in regards to our future. Well, it is for those of us still
implanted within society. Although I suppose, after all of this, that future no
longer includes me either.

After a long moment, I
attempt to set the record straight.

“That’s not why I was
taken,” I exclaim over the commotion.

The clamor ceases. All
three sets of eyes stare back at me once again.

“Something
happened
,”
I whisper, “. . . during the exam. Something having to do with this rare
condition I have. I didn’t even know about it until someone at the DSD told me
I have it. This guy named Richter. He’s a . . . a doctor, of sorts.”

My explanation feels clumsy
and not like much of an explanation at all. However, what I’ve said seems to
have clicked with the others because I notice a response in Ezra’s eyes. I see
the same reaction in the woman.

They briefly exchange
glances.

“Richter?” she asks me.
“You’re sure?” There’s a frightened excitement in her voice while Ezra looks
subdued. His face wears nothing more than a mask of stone.

I nod my head once.

“Did you catch his first
name?” he asks me.

“No,” I mutter. “I wasn’t
even told any of the other doctors’ last names.”

A tense silence fills the
room, and I take advantage of the sudden hush to try to explain myself further.
I grab the white coat off the table beside me.

“This belonged to him. To
Dr. Richter. I took it right before I escaped.”

“You escaped?” Jenner gives
me a strange look before releasing a strained laugh. “That’s impossible. No one
escapes.”

An unsettled feeling weighs
heavily in my stomach. I remember the circumstances surrounding that moment,
and truth be told, I can’t help but agree with him.

“I think they let me,” I
admit. “The DSD has reason to believe I can find something they’re looking for.
They could’ve stopped me at any time, but they didn’t. All that security and
they let me walk out the front door?” I shake my head. “Trust me, this isn’t
the first time I’ve questioned it, which makes me think they had an ulterior
motive. They probably figured if they let me go, I’d eventually lead them to
what they want.”

The woman’s eyes widen as
soon as she realizes what I’m saying. “Us,” she breathes.

“Is that why you cut out
your tracking chip?” Ezra murmurs.

“I can’t go back there,” I
whisper, my voice trembling. “I can’t let them find me again.”

There's a hint of suspicion
in his eyes, and I can’t ignore the feeling that he doesn’t believe me.

“So, why come to us? What
about your family?”

A lump rises in my throat.
If only I had family to go to. Someone who would protect me from everything
that’s happened—or at least attempt to. Assuming protection from the State is
even possible.

No, I don’t have anyone
like that. I
thought
I did, but it turns out, that was all a lie.

“My mother was the one who
gave me up to them in the first place,” I reply flatly. “Not like it matters.
She wouldn’t have been able to protect me from them anyway.”

“Wait a minute,” Jenner
interrupts. “Am I the only one who feels like I’m missing something here? How
did you even find us?”

That seems to be the
question on all of their minds. They stare at me, awaiting an explanation that
I have no way to give them.

Images of
The Vega
flash through my thoughts.
I
know how I found them, but how do I even
begin to explain that? I had never heard of my condition before—not until Dr.
Richter brought it to my attention. Certainly, no one in PHOENIX would have
heard of it either.