Hindered Hope

Chapter 2

Forthrite Headquarters was a marvelous sight to behold.

Inset into a mountain in north-western America, it was virtually impossible to spot. As the jet descended into the hangar, Zane was awestruck once again at the resemblance between the hangar and a dark cave entrance. The blackness enveloped the jet and Zane's heart seized before it landed in the dimly-lit bay.

Waiting outside the jet was Dominique, Mallory's street partner from her time in Rio and one of the two founders and leaders of Forthrite along with Dmitri. She was very similar in appearance to Mallory, the same olive skin and brown eyes, but hers were far lighter, almost a golden color, and her dark hair was bundled together in cornrows. Her expression was lighter, more so now that she and Mallory were together again, and she swore far less than Mallory.

Felicity stepped off the jet and engaged in a silent conversation with Dominique, discussing either the mission or Zane's ride-along. He averted his eyes and ducked out of the plane, shuffling his feet in despair at the repeated answers he had gotten from the mayor of the town.

The air was cold inside the mountain. He curled his arms around himself and stuck close to the wall on the way to his bunkroom, which he shared with Jonas, Marcus, and many other Forthrite men. Many of the Forthrite members who were either married or together received their own quarters, because it would be too much for Dmitri to ask them to give up time with their families and loved ones. But Zane and his friends were placed in separate, gender-segregated bunkrooms. It was a spectacle to watch Dmitri decide what to do with the soldier who was neither male nor female. Ultimately, though, they were placed with Zane in the crowded bunkroom, in the bunk right beneath his.

Zane, seeing the room was crowded, almost all its occupants in attendance, sighed and stepped through the doorway.

Soldiers parted for him as he walked past, some of their gazes frightened, some awed, some anxious, some happy. He hated that he could spark such a range of emotions with just his presence. He averted their gazes and looked at the floor as he walked past them.

But, despite everything, he was glad he wasn't still a brainless New Vancouver citizen, and he was glad he had found friends. They kept him sane.

Zane stopped at the locker next to his bunk. Opening it up, he quickly exchanged his stolen uniform for an inconspicuous dark shirt and a pair of cargo pants. He swapped the syringe between his outfits, glancing hurried glances around the room. Everywhere he looked, eyes were on him, following his movements, curious, penetrating.

He straightened back up and shoved the uniform in the locker, not caring if it got wrinkled. It wasn't his anyway. He slipped off the uniform boots and quickly pulled on a pair of dark sneakers. He pulled his shirt down over his stomach where it had ridden up and several of the men nearby raised their hands as if he had threatened them. Fear was scrawled across their faces and he felt a twinge of regret.

He snorted derisively and got halfway across the room before an arm was laid across his chest to stop him. The man who the arm belonged to looked worried, almost fearful. "Are you alright?" he asked, and there was terror in his voice. He looked like he was confronted with a monster, a being who would mercilessly kill without guilt.

"I'm fine," Zane spat, trying to walk around him, but the man pointed to Zane's hand with his finger. Zane was confused for a second before looking down and remembering the blood on his hand. He curled and uncurled his fist and the blood caked off and flakes fell to the ground, floating through the air like snowflakes.

"You don't look okay," the man said. "You should get that checked out."

Zane's hand exploded in a shower of dust and the man stumbled backward, landing on his bunk and striking his head off the bottom of the top bunk. "I don't need to get it checked out," Zane snarled. "It's fine. My hand's fine. Get off my back."