I hesitate a moment more, willing my body to cool. The effects of his initial, disorienting impact are beginning to recede, and I’m now becoming painfully aware that seeing him again might be the precursor to something darker. I thought that James, having served his purpose of delivering me to the rebels, was no longer useful. I thought my focus had shifted exclusively to the procurement of the vial.
If you’re smart enough, you’ll see it coming.
Maybe James is more important than I thought. Maybe he’s the one in possession of the vial. And maybe it will soon be my job to kill him—again.
It’s enough to reanimate my limbs.
I cross the room and he steps back as I approach, gesturing for me to precede him down the hall. “Lead the way,” he says.
I come to an abrupt stop.
I stare up at him, something like fear raising goose bumps along my arms. “Lead the way where?”
“To your room,” he says. “Which one is yours?”
Warning bells sound throughout my body.
In response I turn slowly forward, guiding him to my room in silence. The rebels continue to surprise me. Outwit me. I have no idea why he’s here.
To be fair, I’ve been trapped in this facility for less than twenty-four hours, and I’m not sure why I’m here, either. I suppose it’s plausible to assume that after my behavior yesterday they decided I was truly in need of rehabilitation.It’s an unlikely theory, but I can’t rule it out altogether. If the rebels actually think gathering ex-members of The Reestablishment in a room together is a good idea, then I’m dealing with levels of stupidity so astronomical as to astonish. In some ways a stupid adversary is more dangerous than an evil one. I can’t map stupidity. I can’t extrapolate theories from stupidity. I can’t solve for patterns in stupidity.
Then again, maybe that’s the point.
I hear James exhale behind me, the steadyhush hushof his pants as he moves. I’m too aware of how close he is to me, how he seems to take up all the allotted space. The dark, musky scent of him is flooding my head with dizzying thoughts I’ve never had before.Neverhave I felt the absurd compulsion to press my face to a man’s chest and breathe him in.
I certainly won’t start now.
This place feels like a small college, with different wings for classrooms and dormitories. It also appears to be sealed entirely underground, or else the cinder blocks are impressively dense. There are windows out of reach, too high to access, and I need more time to study the light to be certain of its origin. It might be synthetic, or I might simply lack a baseline for this geographical region. Ark Island is located in what would’ve been the Pacific Northwest of The New Republic; but because I was unconscious for the duration of my arrival here, I have no idea where we are relative to my home. I’m still assessing. Mapping. This is without a doubt some kind of prison masquerading as a sanctuary.
Finally, we come to a stop.
“Hiiiiiii, Rosabelle No-last-name,” says Leon, poking his head out of his room. “Hiiiiiii, my beautiful Rosabelle, Rosabelle. I was waiting for you.”
Leon is my neighbor.
Right now he’s grinning at me the way he did yesterday when I arrived, with a fervor that might frighten someone else. He’s tall with golden hair and golden skin and vivid green eyes that rarely blink. He’s handsome and unhinged.
“Rosabelle meansbeautiful rose,” says Leon, his head still hanging out the door like a dog in a window. “Rosabelle, Rosabelle, Rosabelle, Rosabelle—”
I glance at James, indicating with a nod that we’ve arrived at my bedroom door, and I’m surprised to find that he seems angrier now than he did upon arrival. His expression is stormy as he watches me, and I fumble a little under his silent fury as I search my pockets.
Finally, I procure the ancient brass key.
I enjoy the tactile, classic feeling of a key, but I don’t understand the logic. Why not lock us in our rooms using modern security mechanisms, opening and closing them remotely, regulating our freedom? Why give us the illusion of power?
“Rosabelle,” says Leon, tittering. “My beautiful rose. I can hear you at night. I listened to you all night, Rosabelle, I’ll give you a little earth, Rosabelle, let me look inside you, Rosabelle, Rosabelle, Rosabelle—”
James reaches forward, palms Leon’s face, and physically launches him backward into his room.There’s a strangled cry, a violent crash, and then James pulls Leon’s door shut with a slam.
He turns to look at me, and I’m frozen in shock, my key still stuck in the lock.
“This piece of shit lives next door to you?” he says.
“Yes.”
James turns away and says nothing more. I study the column of his neck, his throat as it bobs.
My right hand shakes slightly as I turn the key, and then we’re entering my room and he’s closing the door behind us, and this simple action cuts the air supply in half.
