Chapter 2: Brothers

Scarlet has the chance to trust the person who recently tried to kill her. Will she take it? Or continue on this quest alone?

I guess you could say that I’ve always trusted people. There's never been a reason not to, no one has any motivation to betray you or 'stab you in the back'. The thought of someone intentionally hurting a friend sends shivers down my spine.

               So everyone trusts everyone else, except the word trust isn't used to explain the circumstances because it's simply the way of life for us, it's become instinct. You never question what anyone tells you because there's no reason for it to be a lie. We've evolved into a race that no one ever thought could exist, but I can't think of it being any other way without tears coming to my eyes. Things have to change though, or they die. And things are changing, more than I ever thought they could've. Including my views on the word 'trust'.

             "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't plan on fighting anyone, unless they stand in my way of escaping." I wave the blade in his direction as if to emphasize the fact that he is doing exactly that. Putting the strap from my bag across my body before I pick up the blade, then circle around to leave the room. He grabs my arm, but not forcefully, his fingertips linger until I rip my arm from his grasp. I glance up at him, into his blue eyes. They smolder me for a few moments until they harden and the molten lava turns to ice, forcing me to shiver.

   Finally I see pleading. His eyes plead for me to help him, stay with him, but why should I? I'm the one in danger, not this stranger I surely should not trust.

              "Just escaping won't do you any good," He says softly. I place my hand on the knob of my exit, just look away, I tell myself, just look away and open the door. "they'll find you again. Always do, always will." My hand falls.

               "You make it sound like they've chased you." He stares at me, searching for something in my eyes. I drop my gaze from his with a taxing amount of effort and fling the door ajar. I've stared long enough to learn my lesson and plan on never doing it again.

               Marching out, I hear the door to the main office begin to click open and I sprint for the stairs. Reaching the bottom, I begin to scale upwards. If the only way out of this place is by hovercraft, then they must have a takeoff and landing base at the top.

            "Fredrick Sentor?"  A voice calls out. I stop suddenly, not wanting to attract any attention to the winding staircase, but not entirely interested in my poor guide's fate either. "You were the guide that was escorting Scarlet Pattin, am I correct?" No answer. There's another beat of silence before I realize there isn't going to be an answer. A shuffle of footsteps comes afterwards, followed by an unsettling thwack. Trailing behind is a long stretch silence. I take this as a warning, with no time to mourn someone I do not know, and continue my path up the stairs.

             I reach yet another floor, but this one is different than the other two. The extending walls are still present but there is only one door at the end of the hall. I stand indecisively between two steps, one foot rested on each, not sure whether to go back down and face probable death or proceed through the mysterious door.

              "Hurry. He'll wake up soon enough." I almost plummet down the stairs in shock as I hear the familiar voice whisper in my ear. He catches me by the back of my shoulders and pushes me. "Go on, then." I turn around to see Fredrick, grinning eerily from ear to ear.

             "I thought you died." He nearly laughs, shaking his head then nudging me. I step up onto the floor from the last stair and take the lead, moving hesitantly.

                "You don't need to be so careful. Everyone is busy guarding the exits, checking the lower and upper floors for you. If anything changes, I'll know." He waves a small silver device in front of me, then pushes some hair behind his ear so I can see the small chip inside. "It works kind of like-"

               "Like a radio," I interrupt, "I know." He smiles, a crooked, toothy smirk again while cocking his head to the side like a bewildered animal. I pull my eyes from him, annoyed with his cute position. I know he only smiles in such ways and gazes for so long to get me to agree with every flawless word that rolls off his tongue and unfortunately, it's working. With little experience that'd come from months of talking to boys, I'm left a rookie when it comes to flirty comebacks and making them develop feelings for me. Feelings? The only feelings I'd like to inflict on him are physical and hopefully for him, painful.

            We walk along the distant hallway until we are standing in front of the door.

             "What is this room for?" He puts a finger to his lip as though to tell me to be quiet. I stop myself from questioning his statement of the others whereabouts.

             He scans his eye, slides the door aside and with the encouragement from the machine's beeping, we enter the room. It is white from bottom to top. Everything white. I can make out the faint shadow of a counter to my right; beside it is a trolley with several white instruments on top of it. To my left there are a few viewing boxes sitting on long tables, but they are not used to watch The Head news or stylish sitcoms, but to store files and communicate with other people. It almost looks two-dimensional; nothing appears to have depth when it is all the same colour.

               We round a corner"well Fredrick does, I wobble and walk into the wall, which is also white. The atmosphere suddenly shifts. White is no longer the only colour dominating the space, surfaces are being compromised with the additional appearance of the shiny, luminous colour; silver. The first thing to catch my attention is the bars. The recognizable metal running in a vertical line pattern, no doubt with a life-threatening accessory to keep its prisoners inside the cramped cage. There are rows up and down the now exposed foyer. At least six guarded boxes on either side.

     "What's in there?" I say to Fredrick who has already began to move onward, leaving me behind to talk to lifeless air. I scuttle up to his right flank, keeping uncomfortably close, but not uncomfortable enough to edge any closer to the dreadful pounds approaching.

                I had read it in a book once, a young girl, whose parents abandoned her at a young age. The word used was ‘orphan’. Her name was Madeline and she was visiting a place called the 'zoo'. It was a childish read, very different from anything I'd ever laid eyes on, but I liked the easy words, pastel hand drawing. They were simple yet satisfying.

               The zoo was a place where they had kept animals locked up inside/outside in facilities much like the room I am standing in right now. Lines of cages, meant to appear identical to their natural habitat. Humans would pay money to see these exhibits, which made things even more odd considering the thought of money had disintegrated long ago, people now work to support stability not make money. An odd form of entertainment, I always thought. We rarely ever see animals nowadays, unless it’s on our plates"most of us stray from the high enriched protein, it's also high in fat"or haphazardly seen in the wild. Naturally, you are only in the wild if your profession calls for such a thing. No one urges to visit nature anyways, according to The Head it is 100% sterile, but the dirt and leaves and things are said to be such a hassle to remove before entering the city again.

               We get very close now and I sweep my eyes across the plain between the two guarded crates, opposite each other. Surprisingly they are empty. Fredrick makes a sound in discomfort and hastily moves ahead. We approach the last set and I can see two bodies occupy them. I am close to fainting at the unnerving sight. To my left is a boy; his size allows me to assume he is probably around my age or maybe a year older. His hair is blond like Fredrick's, his head down as he sits cross-legged, motionless. I'd assume he were dead if he wasn't so stiff. He wears a plain white polo, a pair of matching boots and ivory pants. He almost blends in completely with the snowy back round, would've appeared to be a floating head if it weren't for the bars.

            A sour smell fills the air, bile, urine and other bodily fluids. My nose leads me to the cell across from the blond boy. I cannot tell the gender of this figure, but it does not matter because I can see that they are no longer alive. Their empty eyes stare up at nothing, the colour of rubies, bulging veins scattered across the surface. Their skin appears to be an unnatural pale pigment with a tint of blue. The foam smeared across their mouth catches my attention and I cringe. Their poor body is bent in an inhumane position.

   "Seizure." Fredrick helps me assess the corpse farther, guiding me by the shoulders away from the horrific, messy eyesore. "Griffin..." He speaks gently, as though trying to lure a timid rabbit out of hiding, drawing them in with a false twitch in his voice.

            The stillness of the figure comes to a halt; the boy gradually lifts his head, watching us through his mop of hair. Fredrick drops to his knees, hands gripping the bars before him, he presses his face closer to the still figure. I understand that previous false note to be worry in his voice.

              "Fredrick?" He has an accent as well. I am starting to feel very left out.

               "I told you I'd come back," I watch wide eyed as an awaited exchange unfolds before me. "I'm here to take you away now. Away from all of this." The young man I assume to be Griffin quickly gets to his feet. This startles Fredrick, who stands as well, talking a footfall backward. Griffin suddenly turns to me.

              "Are you Scarlet Pattin?" His innocent voice is so soothing, serene. I want to reach out to this tender soul, comfort him, and wipe the hair from his eyes. I want to tell him it'll be okay. He continues to watch me with curious blue eyes, not quite harsh like Fredrick's, but large and shielded by a thick curtain of naturally sun bleached eyelashes and lank, dull hair. He has the same nose that Fredrick had before my fists re sculpted it. But something about his dry, cracked lips is very unattractive. I don't even have time to respond before Fredrick jumps in.

               "Scarlet this is my brother, Griffin." The air hitches in my throat, my hand flies up to my chest, trying to restart my heart.

             "But that's not possible. No one has..." I feel my tongue swell and fill my mouth, choosing to cut me off without my consent. Fine with me, I'm too shocked to form any words worth listening too.

                Brothers? No one has siblings. No one. It had been that way long before my mother or father had been born. No blood related aunts or uncles, cousins, just one direct, pure bloodline to continue. One haploid set of chromosomes going forth to create a diploid set for a beautiful baby boy or girl. One. Not two, not three. It keeps things stable.

                "Scarlet, I know. But you've got to trust me for now. So I can get us out. I'll explain everything later. Okay?" I nod instantly; there is no thought behind it, no greater picture or deeper objective. It's simple. I must get out. Fredrick knows the building better than me, obviously. He's the only person I can trust; he's the only person available really.

              "Just let me take a deep breath..." I say after a few moments of silence. Fredrick nods, it's clear he doesn't have much of a choice. I stumble my way" far, far away" from the heart wrenching view of the deceased cadaverous child, ending up by a large silver unit. I plop myself down and draw my knees in, placing my head in between, I try to catch my breath. I hear Fredrick fumbling around with alien instruments in the room, dropping things, cursing. Then there is the sound of a high-pitched whine, white noise at a high frequency, buzzing through the space. It comes into contact with a hard surface and they connect, the white noise winning, slicing down, and breaking the surface in two. Eventually Fredrick yells out in success and there are two pairs of footsteps. I glimpse up to see the warm embrace of the two. They're the last brothers on the planet. Must be, I tell myself. Have to be. The thought of any more siblings existing other than these two drives a headache right through the vacant space between my ears. My head drops again.

            "All right?" My eyes open and my head rises, I meet Fredrick's idiotically smiling face. Griffin stands a few feet behind him, almost as tall and a similar build, though much more slender, an obvious result of malnutrition. Although it's clear Fredrick's been getting all the nutrition his body needs. I feel as though I'm seeing twins, identical boys. Something so impossible. By his appearance itself I can tell that Griffin is sick, lost in his own head on the verge of insanity. And then the other brother, with his head full of air and enough self-confidence for the two of them. Griffin nervously runs his fingers through his thin, greasy hair, looking around the familiar room. I can finally see his face clearly, I see the same festering blue eyes this time, it is as though I'm watching Fredrick look onto a mirrored surface.

              "I have a few questions," I start. I have more to say, but my tongue cuts itself off once again, as I see Fredrick's lips part.

              "We can talk as I pack, we'll need a few weapons, basic supplies, so we can survive once we get out."

             "We?" I spit. It's a rhetorical question. Fredrick sees it in my eyes before the words come from my mouth. "Not too long ago you were escorting me to my death for Christ sake," He flinches at the reference to a long dead beacon of hope: God. "You fought against me, you tripped me on the bridge, I could've been caught, killed..." The look on his face tells me to shut up.

               "How would it have looked on the security cameras if I had just let you get away? I fought back until we could be in a place where no one could see my betrayal. There are no cameras here, no one of low importance can know what goes on in this room."

              "And what exactly happens here, Fredrick?" He shakes his head at my arrogant tonality, turning his back on me and striding towards a stack of crates. Griffin gawks at me with dark eyes for a second, though it feels much longer as I try with a large amount of effort to break his locked gaze and look somewhere else. His face holds no emotion. What have they done to him?

              Griffin and Fredrick begin to separate the boxes, Fredrick stops for a moment to listen to the activity occurring around the building. Chaos, no doubt. He begins to move faster now and I know my accusation is correct. They rip open the lids, not made of particularly strong titanium. Griffin lifts up two black bags, a big pocket on the front, two on each side and a strap to conveniently wrap it around your torso. I disentangle my sore limbs from my frozen position and hop down from the unit, long stomps over to the fast hands.

              Fredrick tosses me an unknown object, my arms fly out naturally, still in defense mode. I turn it over with my slender fingers. A simple, ancient, handgun. I almost let it fall from my fingertips when the picture from my memory flashes in my head. I've read several novels where the protagonist uses a gun as a defense mechanism to injure and kill enemies. But as always, the enemy has guns as well, sometimes bigger guns, better guns.

               "These still exist?" The words roll off my tongue accidentally; Fredrick barely notices my slip up.

             "You know what it is?" He fastens the last few knobs on the bag before slinging it over his body, Griffin does the same. I nod. "Good, then we won't waste time showing you how to use it." My jaw drops and I struggle to find my words.

    "I c-can't. What if I shoot myself? What if I shoot someone?" They walk ahead of me, farther down and then taking a right turn, away from the direction in which we entered.

             "Don't and good." I hear a different voice, huskier but carrying every bit of confidence as Fredrick's. I hold the weapon by its handle and shove it into my bag, jogging after them.

    "What the-" The hall is dark and I stumble over an unidentifiable object. I hear one of the boys chuckle at my ungraceful attempt to keep up with them. I growl under my breath and try to catch up.

               I notice a streaming pool of light at the distant end. I speed up towards it, only to trip again.

               "Slow down there, you're going to give us away." I realize the thought of guards with guns bigger than mine lurking in the dark and scuttle to the side, hugging the sides of the hall but not losing pace.

              We finally reach the end and I see a ladder attached to the wall, it goes up the length of it and there is a small hole where it empties the load onto the next floor. "A ladder?" I ask, dumbfounded. My hand caresses the cold steel, gripping it tightly. There are so many old elements to this seemingly up-to-date building.

               "Why must you ask so many questions?" I hear Fredrick's sassy accent. He hoists me up, directing me to climb. I start out slow but eventually get the hang of it, just one foot after the other. The rungs are equal distance apart and it becomes familiar to me. I get a little too cocky and my foot slips, descending down and hitting a hollow surface.

    "OW!" Griffin protests, "She's going to kill me before the guards get to." He fumes. I roll my eyes and lift my leg, continuing to ascend.

            We finally reach the top and I pull myself up, staying bent at the waist, I hunch over and quickly take cover behind a pile of old, rusted hover board parts. Griffin follows and finally Fredrick. I peer over the heap through a ring of titanium to see a line of guards facing the opposite direction, all with lethal weapons at their sides. And not to my surprise, bigger guns.

             "So what now, Superman?" Griffin raises an eyebrow at my comical--haha--nickname, his mouth turns down and he looks away uncomfortably.

            "How do you now that reference?" Both brothers are watching me now.

              "Books, maybe." I spit, my voice coated in a thick layer of sarcasm.

              "You read?" He asks, as though I have referred to something ridiculous. Griffin watches me suspiciously. I ignore him.

     Fredrick motions for us to be quiet. I stare ahead again, watching a hovercraft land and the guards back up from the wind it stirs around. An important looking figure steps down after a heavily armored guard does. He walks with his hands behind his back in a black, sleek suit. His hair is black with streaks of a silvery gray, slicked back in groomed waves. He nods towards the assembly of inferiors, who solute his excellence. Fredrick bustles beside me, I turn to see him fiddling with the radio. Griffin and I watch him, perplexed.

  "It cut off, I can't hear anythin-"

            "Code 47, they've made it to the base, I repeat they-" I draw my gun from my bag, prepared to fire. Griffin pushes it down, extending his arm and firing a bullet straight into the foe's forehead. He descends down the ladder almost immediately. Griffin faces me.

             "Your gun is too loud, they would have heard. Plus, we don't have time for you to miss."

            "You continue to drown me in compliments." I express sarcastically.

            "Shut up you two, we've lost connection. We're sitting ducks now." I have to hold myself back from chuckling at the expression. How absurd, to compare our situation to ducks.

              Fredrick moves farther on, to another collection of rusted fragments. He waves us forward and we obediently rush to his side. "Okay, there are about 25 of them there. We need to get on that hovercraft." Griffin and I watch him with accusing eyes.

            "Are you insane?"

              "What are we supposed to do? Just waltz on past and steal Head Kaufman's hover craft?" Griffin whispers harshly. My eyes almost pop out of my head.

            "Head? That's The Head?" Griffin looks at me in disbelief. I shrink back away from him. I have a feeling he doesn't like me very much, but then again, I'm not here seeking friendship.

            "What do you propose we do?" Fredrick says to Griffin. His question is painfully valid, what else can we do? "I'll create a distraction. Griffin you make sure Scarlet gets inside. Scarlet have your gun out and ready. I'm prepared for most of your shots to miss, but it'd be nice if you could try to take a few down." My hands begin to shake. I've killed people before, sure. I've done several demonstrations of the task, but to have them fight back, with guns. Guns. Big guns. Guns bigger than my gun. Which is singular, so it's less, so it's weaker…

            Fredrick begins to snap his fingers in front of my face, dragging me back down to this cruel reality. I dip my head in understanding; Griffin draws two guns to show his acceptance. Fredrick shoves my shoulder to the side, away from his body. I wobble but advance in the opposite direction, Griffin traveling behind me. We move up the side of the building, still behind the mountains of discarded pieces. Eventually it comes to an end and if we move any farther we'll be out in the open. I see the boundary of guards not too far away; once Fredrick starts the distraction we can make a run for it.

               "AHHHHHH!" Fredrick begins to yell like a madman, waving his arms and flailing about on the roof. I watch him in doubt, what is he doing?

              Griffin pushes me. What is it with this family and hands on contact? I spring up from my huddle and dash towards my objective location. I hear gunfire break out to my right. I can't help but watch. My heart is beating painfully quick as I see Fredrick whip out his gun. He doesn't waste time taking down every guard in his path. The handle of his glock comes into contact with one guard’s head, his body slumping impossibly to the side. Fredrick quickly dives from the path of a bounding guard, arms flying out. He skillfully strikes the kneecap on both of the guard's legs, breaking the bones as they go down; he finishes them off with a bullet to the head and moves on. I hear Griffin's footsteps close behind me as we run, driving me to move quicker. The guards begin to notice our presence, and our goal to escape. Griffin already fires three rounds before they can even acknowledge who we are. He picks them off one by one, a bullet not even able to make it anywhere near us. I see our target now, just a few feet away. I push my legs harder. Almost there!

             The feet behind me scuffle; scrape the concrete in a messy pattern and then stall. I turn my head to see Griffin's body fall to the ground. He continues to fire bullets at the guards, whose population is increasing quickly. Fredrick turns to see his brother, vulnerable and injured. His face turns down into a grimace, and finally twists to turn into a choleric, vicious shadow.

                Turning away as he finishes his massacre, I bound back to retrieve Griffin, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He defends us by maintaining the plan of shooting the enemy as I drag him towards safety.

              We finally reach the entrance to the hovercraft. I haul Griffin inside and press my gun to the neck of the driver who remains defenseless. He lifts his arms in surrender and exits steadily on the other side. Fredrick enters just as this happens, the door automatically sliding secure behind him. I stare at the switchboard, no idea on how to operate the aircraft. Fredrick pushes his way into the drivers seat as I scoot my way out of it. Griffin adjusting himself in the backseat, lying across the perfectly designed seats horizontally. More guards seem to flood onto the takeoff base, pointing their guns and waiting for the instruction to fire.

              "Their bullets can't reach us in here." Griffin interferes with my thoughts. His voice is masked with pain, he groans a complaint and fidgets uncomfortably. "If it's The Head's craft it's heavily armed and armored." As if in agreement, it rumbles to life. Fredrick gives it the instruction to rise. It does so efficiently. Head Kaufman rushes onto the roof, his hand shielding his eyes from the powerful desert sun, he looks up at me through the window. I know he can't see me very clearly when I am so high up, but still, I flinch when I see his hand move over the left side of his chest, and beat it roughly twice, motioning the beating of his heart. He will not stop until mine stutters, falters and then stops.

 

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think!