A few days pass and I don't even realize it.
I haven't been hunting since the time Taylor and Nox found the Freak in the block of offices. I've been put on guarding duty for the days passed, watching more and more Soldiers go out and come back hours later. Yesterday, they found no one. Not a single Freak.
But today is different.
My heart sinks to my stomach as I watch two male Soldiers drag a young Freak—who can't be any older than sixteen—into a cell directly in front of where I'm stationed. I keep my face as emotionless as I can as they move around me, pushing the Freak down onto the ground and slamming the cell door behind him, all while ignoring the harsh looks he's giving the two Soldiers. The longer I watch these people treat the Freaks the way they do, the more I want to strangle the life out of them until there's no one left.
"This under eighteen rule completely sucks!" one of the Soldiers say as they both walk down the hallway. "I just want to kill all of them. Get it over and done with."
"Tell me about it," the other one says, a laugh escaping his lips. "But Hartman will have your head if you killed a junior."
"Don't remind me..."
Their voices drift off as they walk away from the hallway. Away from me.
My shift ends too soon and before I know it, I'm trying to force down lunch in the Soldiers' version of a mess hall. They built the place a few years ago from an outbuilding about a quarter of a mile away from the prison. The place is huge. Definitely bigger than the prison.
I swirl the now-warm stew around in the bowl with my spoon, trying and trying to push the sound and the thoughts of the young Freak's face from my mind when Brianna shot him in the head. But every time I close my eyes, I see him looking back at me, the recognition on his face as I spoke inside his mind.
Now the image of his own blood matted in his hair and staining his clothes burns my mind forever.
I could have saved him, if I was quick enough. I could have done something—not just stand there staring at him like he would magically save himself. I could have saved him.
But you didn't. You watched an innocent Freak get shot in the head, Luca, and you didn't do anything.
Diego slides into the seat across from me. "I know who you are," he says, pressing his tray onto the table between us, the sound harsh inside my head.
I keep my face emotionless, continuing to spoon food into my mouth even though my appetite has vanished. "Yeah, Diego, you do. We met each other about a week ago," I reply, raising an eyebrow. If the silence continues between us, I'm sure he'll be able to hear the pounding of my heart against my chest. I nonchalantly take a sip from the glass of water on my own tray, making sure my hand doesn't shake as I peer at him over the rim.
He eyes me carefully for a few more seconds before saying, "That's not what I mean, Jackson." He tilts his head, a lock of his perfectly placed hair brushing into his eye. "You're from Level Two, aren't you?"
My heart slows down and lifts at the same time. I try not to show the relief on my face as I smile once and continue to eat. "How did you know?"
On the Phoenix, the spaceship all of the Soldiers are from, there were different Levels you could live in. The highest one you could be in is Ten. If you're from there, then you had it all. You're the richest out of everyone on the Phoenix. Since Diego thinks Jackson Parker is from Two, it's good for me. It means Jackson wasn't known very well or as rich in the spaceship as the rest of them.
It works really well for my situation.
Like me, Jackson Parker is a nobody.
"Your accent," Diego continues, tilting his head again. "It's very... Two."
"I was raised there," I lie, trying to find a way out of this conversation before I say something wrong and mess everything up.
As if sensing what I was thinking, Nox slides into the seat next to Diego, nudging him kindly on the shoulder. He gives me a knowing look, like he knew I was struggling with the information about both Jackson Parker and what happened on the Phoenix. Nox starts up a new conversation with Diego, casually changing the subject from living on the spaceship to something about the "night out" they have every single month.
Which just so happens to be tonight.
It's the only day of the month where everyone—even Hartman—relaxes and spends the night... doing something I have no idea what. The three of us don't know anything. Everyone was very vague with us. They said that since Nox, Diego, Marc, Rhys and I—more accurately: Jackson and Timothy—have just started a few days' previous, he wants us to find out for ourselves. Even the first-time female privates don't know about this.
I asked Diego how they know what day of the month it is, and what month it is, since the time and date is a thing of the past. It's a thing that also died when the radiation killed the adults and the children. Even the Freaks down in the Ghetto didn't care what time of day it is; they just live their lives without worry, like they've forgotten that they are also surviving like the rest of the Freaks around the world.
Diego says that the Soldiers counted down the days the moment they stepped foot on Earth again. Every thirty days exactly, they do the "night out."
It takes a moment for my mind to come back into the present. I watch the Soldiers around the dining hall stand up from the chairs, bringing their trays to where they got them from. I stand up at the same time as Nox and Diego, staring at my half-eaten bowl of stew as I bring it over to the few cooks behind a low wall, nodding my thanks as a young boy who can't be much older than me takes the tray from my hands and dumps it into a bin full of water without giving me a smile.
The rest of the day passes quickly after that.
I'm put back on guard duty with Nox on the other side of the hallway. Every now and then, we would speak to each other through our minds, but I can tell his words sound rushed as he hears a Soldier passing the hallway we are stationed in.
Then we lapse into silence again.
The familiar ding sounds around the whole prison, signalling the end of the day. My shoulders immediately slump and I release the handle of the weapon at my hip. I catch the eyes of a Freak from inside his cell. His tilts his head at me, his eyes seemingly glaring at me but I know he wouldn't dare, even if he knew I was a fake Solider. I wonder sometimes if they can sense my power the way I can with them, the way it bares down on my shoulders and clogs my throat. Even though the restraints suppress our abilities, the power will always course through our veins as long as we live.
For a second, I think about sending a thought into his head, to reassure him that I'll come back and help him, but I stop myself. Not yet. I can't trust anyone. Not even the Freaks. One word from them about me and it's all over.
Nox and I both head for the new quarters all of the Soldiers stay in. Some of the male Soldiers are already there, changing from their uniforms into something comfortable and casual at the same time.
I undo the belt around my waist and drop my holster and gun into the trunk at the end of my bed, pulling out a simple pair of black jeans and another spare white T-shirt that was already stashed inside. It's the same thing we all have under our uniforms. If I didn't train as hard as I did back in the Ghetto, then these clothes probably wouldn't fit me as well as they do now.
I check over my shoulder as I strip off the uniform, leaving me in the T-shirt. The thin material sticks to the dry paint still on my back as I peel it away from my skin. I shove the uniform and old shirt into the trunk, throwing the new T-shirt onto the bed as I pull on the jeans. They are tight but not uncomfortable. They're made from some kind of stretchy, cheap material that could rip easily if I wanted it to. But there is nothing else for me to wear tonight.
"Damn," I hear from behind me. I whirl around to see a Soldier I have never seen before standing before me, a furrow in his brows as he looks at me. "Your tattoo is awesome, dude."
I look over my shoulder again, but I can't see anything but a small streak of black curling around my shoulder. "Thanks, man," I reply, looking over at him again. "I had a great artist."
He crosses his arms over his chest, and from there I can see a part of a tattoo peeking out from under the right sleeve of his T-shirt. "Who was it?" he asks. His interest is piqued. Great. I need to end this conversation now.
"One of my old friends did it. No one you'll know, bud," I say, slipping the new white T-shirt over my head as I start to walk passed him. I slap him on the shoulder once. "But thanks for liking it, though. I appreciate it."
I fall into step next to Nox again and watch as all the other Soldiers start filing out of the room as well.
The air around the prison is different tonight. It feels lighter, less tense. It feels like I don't have to walk on eggshells around the Soldiers right now. At the moment, as we put the prison to our backs and continue to who knows where, I'm no longer playing a Soldier. I'm no longer Jackson Parker. Not even Luca. I'm someone who doesn't matter. A background character you would take no notice of.
And this person who doesn't matter in the Soldiers' eyes will save the Freaks they are holding.
And I will put a stop to them.
* * *
We quickly arrive at a run-down building not too far away from the prison.
I take a glance over at Nox who is still beside me, keeping his eyes on the building like he's waiting for it to suddenly change into something more appealing. At least, that's what I'm doing.
The whole structure has lost its roof from the heat of the radiation. Each and every window has lost its glass and looks about ready to cave in. The building looks like it was built only about a metre away from a main road—which can no longer be driven on. Multiple cracks and potholes cover the entirety of the asphalt. The path we are all currently standing on looks almost as bad as the road, but where are you supposed to walk? In the dark, this place will be a nightmare to find your way back to the prison without tripping over something.
I feel someone brush against my shoulder. Brianna's familiar blonde hair comes into view when I look down from the building long enough to acknowledge her presence. The night she found me in the hallway comes flooding back in a wave. I still remember when she buried that bullet in the Freak's head, and I will not forget it any time soon.
"Are we here?" I say to Nox, though it's loud enough for anyone around us to hear. He turns to look at me, opening his mouth like he's about to reply, but someone else steps in before him.
"Yes, we are," Brianna says, almost snapping the words at me. She moves forward some more, knocking my shoulder away from hers so she can press her palm against the fading wooden door, pushing it open.
Darkness surrounds us as we step through the door frame. There are no windows in this place, but I can see that we are in a hallway that smells like vomit and lemon antibacterial soap. It turns pitch black as the last Soldier through the door closes it behind him. The urge to alight my hand in flame is almost overpowering, but a moment later, I hear a faint click, then a yellowing light appears all around us, illuminating the hallway again. The dim lamp is already giving me a headache.
There's only one door at the end of the hallway. There's another one to the left of us, but it's shut and most likely locked. A Soldier next to me presses down on the handle but nothing happens, confirming my suspicion about it being locked.
"All right, then," someone around us says loudly, the noise echoing around the hallway obnoxiously. "Let's go."
And we all make our way to the other door at the end of the passage. The Solider at the front of the group opens the door—which isn't locked—and we all step inside one at a time.
There are windows in this room, though they are all frosted so we can't see out and whoever might be outside cannot see in. The whole room is large, with nothing inside the centre—no tables, no chairs, nothing. On the left wall is a large platform with stairs leading up to it on one side and a barrier surrounding the entire of it. Atop the platform is some kind of device I can't see from down here. A Soldier goes up to it, running up the small steps with some kind of black box in his hands and starts looking around at the larger device, moving wires around as he places the black box down onto it.
I make my way farther into the room, looking up at the ceiling as I do so. Surrounding the perimeter of the room is another level. The whole surrounding looks like a balcony overlooking the ground. Different doors are visible in the corners of the room up there, but if I could guess they're probably locked like the room next to the entrance.
I stand in the centre of the space with a handful of others, while the rest of the Soldiers wander around the place, smiling at the walls or at the ground or at the ceiling like they already know this place. They probably do; it's supposed to be Jackson and Timothy's first "night out" with the Soldiers. I can't see the other male first-time privates, but I think I see the girls. They are looking at the place with an expression I'm almost certain mirrors my own: confusion and amazement at the same time.
On the wall where we first arrived is what looks like a bar. All along the wall are different bottles of what I can only assume is alcohol standing upright. Some bottles are almost empty, some are smashed, some aren't there, and some are full. The door we entered has the words STAFF ONLY written in bold on it, but no one seems to pay any attention to what it says.
It takes a good two minutes of looking around to finally realize where we are.
We're in an abandoned club.
Nox seems to realize this at the same moment I do. He glances over at me with a look in his eyes. I nod slowly and tear my gaze away from his when a sudden loud cough sounds from behind me.
The Soldier up on what I am now guessing is the DJ's table stands at the barrier overlooking us. He cups his hands over his mouth and shouts, "You ready, guys?"
Everyone around me raises their fists into the air and shakes them around, agreeing with the Soldier with a loud "Yes!" that echoes around the large space.
The Soldier at the DJ's table moves to the black box and flicks a switch. He turns to the table and hits a couple of buttons. I can feel the anticipation radiating off the bodies around me, like they are expecting something to happen to the small device, but nothing happens with the box.
The lights suddenly come on around us. They are all blue and red and yellow and green and every possible other colour you can think of. Stage lights move around the centre of the ground quickly, forming a pattern that's too quick for my eyes to focus on.
The Soldier flips a couple more switches on the box, then presses a few more buttons on the DJ's table, looking completely at home—like he's done exactly this a thousand times before. It wouldn't surprise me if he had.
A few seconds pass, and then suddenly music is blaring from the speakers all around us. Fast, upbeat music that doesn't have people singing like it did in the gym down in the Ghetto, but it's still got a good beat to it. Like it's actually made for people at clubs to dance to.
A sudden whine spews from the large speakers surrounding the room. We all snap our heads to the Soldier up on the platform, still cringing as the effects of the noise die off. He holds a microphone up to his mouth, taps it once and blows into it, the sound seemingly amplified one hundred times louder than the music from the speakers.
"All right, guys." The Soldier's voice is too loud. He raises his fist in the air as he shouts, "Let's get this party started!"