Chapter 15
I leave Mark in the abandoned building with the lights flickering on and off disjointedly. There isn’t any rhyme or reason to the flickering — just like my everyday life. It is fitting I guess that I think on that scene in a state of abject distraction. What does it all mean? What does any of it mean? I suppose I am depressed. Yes, I am. I allowed myself to hope there was something more than this unreal reality I am stuck in. The world I had begun to envision seemed a lot more genuine and explicable to me than the world I was taught to believe was true. I prefer that other world, and yet I am trapped in this one. And it has become clear they aren’t going to allow me to just leave it.
Why do they care so much? Not about me, mind you, but in keeping control over me. I wish I could convince them that there really isn’t any point to it — how am I worth it to them? And yet, I know it has more to do with them than with me. And I can’t possibly fix what is broken. My mere existence just sticks in their craw so much that they just can’t or won’t let me go.
At any rate, I can only hope that Mark is safe and that he has found his sister. I had given him a chance to escape at my own expense. As I said, I would have been risking him and his sister if I had tried to get past the blonde boy.
And I did notice that Mark let me sacrifice myself. I had worried briefly that he would come charging up the stairs after me. Then, I worried that he had been rendered incapable of doing so. Eventually though, I accepted that he had purposefully done nothing. I’m not a priority for him — his sister, Katie, is. I try to make myself understand that, but it still hurts all the same.
Of course, that really isn’t relevant. What I have come to realize is that my escaping had been an impossibility all along. Even though Mark and I hadn’t been aware of it before, the Instructor would never have permitted me to vanish without a trace …
I follow mutely behind the boy as we trace our way back to the complex. I take the time to look around me at the scenery — or what I can see of it as it has already grown quite dark. Though, as it turns out, it isn’t as late as I had thought it was when I was in that abandoned building.
We are also, surprisingly, not far from the complex. The last building we were in was nearer to the complex than I had thought. Mark and I must have gone past it without noticing the first time we entered the city. It amazes me … going so far only to wind up close to the beginning in the end.
And yet, I find it is the space right behind me that I am most interested in now. I feel a compulsion to turn back to see whether Mark is following me. I can still feel his presence there … though it does seem to be fading. But I don’t look, for I can also sense that the blonde boy is keeping a watchful eye on me with his peripheral vision. Then again, maybe it is just an excuse when I tell myself that I am not looking back only to protect Mark. Maybe I am just afraid of confirming what I already know — that he isn’t there …
We enter the complex grounds through the main gate. The unknown boy appears to have far greater freedom and far greater access to the complex than I do. He certainly doesn’t seem to feel the need to sneak around. And he appears to take pleasure in demonstrating this fact to me, too.
Of course, it is hard for me not to realize as I step over the threshold of the main building that I am, once again, trapped. I now feel desperate to cast my eyes backwards to see whether Mark is running up behind me to stop me, but I brace myself against the impulse to look. My heart sinks when the big door is shut behind me and secured. It seems too late for anyone to rescue me now. I breathe in an unsatisfying breath.
“Kurt.” I hear Nan’s voice say his name as she shuts the door behind us.
“See, I brought her back!” Kurt declares.
I look at Nan and see her nod at him. Her eyes, when she looks at me, appear wary and detached.
“I can see that she’s here.” Nan responds stiffly.
“I suppose the Instructor is going to want to see us, then?” Kurt pursues.
I stiffen at the suggestion.
“I don’t know.” Nan replies moodily. “I’ll have to tell him what I know and find out what he thinks.”
Kurt brazenly follows after Nan as she walks down the hall. It is as though he is the heir apparent of some imaginary kingdom. I am tempted to find a way to track back to my room, but I am too afraid of what Kurt may say to the Instructor to let Kurt go see him alone. So, I trail at a distance behind the two of them. It is a good thing I followed, as it turns out, for it isn’t long before Kurt turns around, seemingly checking to see whether I am still there. I just stare at him coldly. He seems amused by this and smiles as he turns sharply back around. Nan, for her part, turns an annoyed look upon Kurt, yet says nothing to dissuade him from following her. I note that their relationship is markedly different from the one I have with Nan. I wonder why I’ve never heard of Kurt before. How long has he been here? Is he like me — a ward of the Instructor?
Kurt had accused me of being arrogant. That is ironic under the circumstances. His arrogance is downright palpable. If it weren’t for Kurt’s obvious adoration for the Instructor, I wouldn’t be able to think of a reason as to why the Instructor would tolerate his presence.
Then, I get to thinking about whether Kurt and I are going to end up being made into rivals for the Instructor’s favor. I hate the thought of that. Chances are also good that I would lose. The Instructor and I obviously aren’t on the best of terms, especially now. And I’m not good at faking it. The Instructor would see right through me if I attempted to ingratiate myself with him. No, it would never work — which could mean that I may soon find I do not have a place to live after all.
Eventually, our awkward procession finds its way to an unfamiliar door — at which Nan knocks solidly.
“Come in!” a familiar voice rings out … the Instructor’s voice.
He is seated in a regal-looking, high-back chair at an angle, so that he is partially facing a window and partially turned towards a small, stone fireplace. The room is filled with light, which surprises me since I have only associated him with dimly lit and spooky places.
He doesn’t turn when we enter. Such is his way. Though he can’t possibly be aware of everything that goes on around him, he always takes pains to make it appear as though he is aware.
“You may have a seat.” he directs, still not looking at us.
But to whom is he speaking? I look over at Kurt, who seems hesitant to step forward lest it turn out to be me the Instructor is addressing. Apparently, no one knows whom he was speaking to. Is he really aware that we are all there? Only Nan seems to recognize that he is not addressing her. Finally, I can see the Instructor tense one of his hands. Then, he turns sharply towards us with irritation creasing his face.
I can’t tell whether his look is that of surprise or not when he sees all three of us; it may have been.
“Aronade, take a seat.” he commands.
I look at him skeptically.
I can tell without looking at him directly that Kurt isn’t pleased by this turn of events. I imagine it is embarrassing for him that the Instructor’s attention is directed at me rather than him given how much he seems to admire the Instructor. It doesn’t help that the Instructor then turns a cold stare onto Kurt.
It feels as though I wait to sit for a long time, but in actuality it is probably just a few seconds. Really, I fear I cave rather quickly. I keep my eyes fixed on the Instructor, daring him to speak, as I sit down.
Kurt crosses in front of me and stands between me and the Instructor. But Kurt’s gesture doesn’t appear to be to shield me from the Instructor’s intense glare, but rather it seems to stem from a desire on Kurt’s part to be the focal point of the Instructor’s attention. Why he is so desperate for this man’s approval, I can’t fathom.
“I brought her back!” Kurt suddenly declares. “She left …”
“I know, Kurt.” the Instructor admonishes him coolly. “You did well.”
That seems to be enough for Kurt. He finally steps off to the side. He stands behind the Instructor then — behind him and to his right. It occurs to me that Kurt seems to like to lurk around the fringes of the room … listening. He stares at me for a moment. At first there is an odd smirk on his face. But then, he has a sudden look of disinterest. It is odd the way this guy’s mood changes. And yet, he seems to be taking his cues from the Instructor. I have serious doubts, however, that real approval from the Instructor will ever be forthcoming … for him or for anyone else.
“I knew it had to happen sometime.” the Instructor suddenly breaks the awkward silence.
I don’t respond. The Instructor sits back in his chair. “I would rather it be Kurt who discovered you than someone else.”
My face flushes, but I try not to noticeably react to this proclamation.
“Are you saying you set it up?” I finally ask him.
“No, I’ve been busy managing other things.” he admits. “So, Aronade, I suspect you’ve had a pretty long night of it.”
I am instantly on guard. I don’t know how much the Instructor knows. He told me many times, “Don’t assume anything.” That is good advice at this moment, for I want to shield Mark and his sister as much as I can. By now, I have given up on Mark coming to my rescue. But he and his sister still have a chance to escape from the vicinity if I don’t blow it.
I think about what he just said. I figure that the Instructor calling me Aronade rather than Puppet is a good sign. It probably means that he isn’t currently mad at me or toying with me. It probably also means that he doesn’t want to put me on edge. That last part may be good or bad, however, as it could mean that he is trying to lull me into complacency, so that I will let my guard down. I am determined not to let that happen.
Then, the Instructor cups his ear with his hand, in an apparently sarcastic gesture, to indicate that he is waiting for me to talk. I notice Kurt grin.
I clear my throat.
“It was eventful.” I manage.
The Instructor grips the arms of his massive chair with his hands, seemingly filled with anticipation.
“Come now.” he cajoles. “Don’t be disingenuous. I have a witness here who says you’ve been out.”
Kurt’s eyes are hard as steel as he stares at me. His look seems to challenge me to contradict him. I decide to take the opposite tack.
“Kurt would be right.” I state, allowing the familiarity that comes with using Kurt’s name to make it appear as though I have nothing to hide. Kurt seems suspicious of me suddenly.
“And why would you do that?” the Instructor challenges me.
His interest seems piqued. People’s motivations always seem to interest him. It’s the one area he can never quite master — without a test subject such as myself anyway.
I have to consider what to say without looking as though I am considering it. I look at Kurt in order to avoid eye contact with the Instructor. I notice then that Kurt has grown distinctly pale. There is something to that, I figure. But what? It is Mark he wants hidden surely …what other reason could there be … the music box! So it had been Kurt! And if I am right, I conclude, Kurt doesn’t want the Instructor to know what he has done … that he has mimicked him … or does he? Is he trying to fool me with a fake reaction? I can’t tell with Kurt. So, I decide to focus on something else instead.
“I wanted out of here.” I say. “I stayed away because I don’t want to be here anymore. There’s nothing left for me here.”
It is a gamble … but it is true. It isn’t as though I could risk an obvious deception. Then, the Instructor presses the fingertips of his hands together right in front of his face and says, “I couldn’t agree more.”
This surprises me to my core. A chill goes through me despite myself. I hadn’t wanted to react to him, especially after our last interaction. My pride wants me to beat him at this game. And yet, beating him may be the worst, most dangerous thing I could do. I do want answers, though. And if he intends to kick me out anyway, I might as well try to get those answers. Plus, the more time I waste the greater the chance Mark and his sister have of getting away from here. And yet, I know there is a possibility the Instructor has already captured them and is waiting to spring that information on me at any moment. But as difficult as it is to wait to find out what the Instructor knows, I can’t risk letting him get any more information out of me than is necessary.
“I suppose you’re angry with me?” I ask him.
He raises an eyebrow. He apparently wasn’t expecting that question.
“On the contrary, I’m pleased … I’m very pleased with your progress.” the Instructor insists.
My eyebrows furrow; so do Kurt’s. My reaction is from confusion; Kurt’s seems to be from anger. Yet, he dares not question the Instructor’s reaction and neither do I. Actually, I am at a loss as to what to say. Still, just as every time in the past, putting me off-balance seems to please the Instructor immensely.
“You seem confused, Aronade.” he schools me. “Permit me, if you will, to explain my reasoning, for I have come to conclude you are ready at last to hear the truth. Your actions tell me you are no longer dependant on my approval. That is a good thing for our purposes.”
I just wait and listen … sure that he will go on with “the truth” without my needing to prompt him.
The truth, ha! What a foreign concept that is around here. The Instructor has done everything to make the truth seem as intangible and abstract a concept as he could since I arrived at this place. And now he wants me believe whatever he is about to tell me? There seems to be slim chance of that happening. I figure that what he is about to say may be true … or it may not. Maybe I will find out one way or another in time.
“You used to live in a research community.” he begins. “I understand you were there recently.”
I nod. So far he sounds believable, and quite frankly it scares me a little. Suddenly, the Instructor stands, his hands grasping one another behind his back. He gazes ponderously out the window. He begins speaking at a swift pace.
“As you now know, it’s near here — a stone’s throw really. I have many houses. I came to live here after the town was destroyed.”
He casts a look back at me, presumably to see my reaction. I don’t give him one.
“No one has ever gone back there.” he says, reverting his gaze back toward the window. “You see, I made sure to know whether anyone went back. And I also left things exactly as they were before … as I reminder.”
“A reminder?” I think. “A reminder for whom?”
“I don’t go there much at all, but I know it’s there. And they know it’s there. And they know you exist, too. Only they don’t know where you exist, you see. So far it’s worked well to hide you here. And I have managed to keep you occupied, so you wouldn’t venture out or ask too many questions. Haven’t I, Puppet?”
I bristle inside at the mention of that moniker. But I think I managed not to react outwardly. I merely listen. I figure eventually things will become clear.
The Instructor seems to be disappointed that I am not peppering him with questions. And yet, I know if I ask him the wrong thing, he will more than likely break off the conversation entirely. I figure my best chance of getting information out of him is to hold my tongue — to say nothing. Still, he may be goading me to ask questions by bringing up the nickname — who knows? I don’t.
“You have a disease.” the Instructor blurts out suddenly.
“What?!”
My eyes dart to and fro.
“Ah! So that got your attention!” His voice is at an even higher pitch than it had been before, and it comes at an even faster clip as well. “You are a carrier of a curious disease. It was manufactured by scientists to be used as leverage against the elites. You see, the elites made their own virus, one that they were immune from because of their genetic alterations but that could easily kill off large swaths of the general population. So, the scientists, composed of members of the common man, created a virus of their own that would kill the elites and not them. Therefore, they threatened the elites with exposure should the elites try to unleash their pandemic. I’m actually one of those people, Aronade, an elite. You could actually kill me — though not just by sitting there. Your blood contains a pathogen that could kill the elite of this world. And as I’ve mentioned, we’ve been genetically altered to outlast the rest of you. And, ironically, it is that alteration that is vulnerable to attack by the virus in question.”
I look between him and Kurt, trying to see whether the Instructor is serious. Kurt shows no reaction; yet, he doesn’t seem surprised. Wait a minute! Does that mean he knew about this? What am I thinking?! That’s irrelevant at this point! What matters is that this strange kid knows about me now!
“You just told Kurt about me!” I blurt out. “How could you do that?!” I gasp.
The Instructor’s expression is bleak; the color has drained from his face. I know I have gone too far.
“You’re going to need him as an ally.” the Instructor suddenly growls at me.
“Don’t you understand? You’ve given him power over me!” I can’t seem to stop myself from exclaiming.
The Instructor glares at me, for what seems like the longest time.
“And who do you think has power over him?” he asks me with a quavering in his voice.
It takes him a long time to recompose himself. But he is apparently invested in finishing his tale, for he eventually continues on with it.
“You are probably wondering what effect this disease will have on you. But you are merely a carrier of the disease. It shouldn’t make you sick. But, as I said, it could kill a bunch of others, you see.” He begins to pace … to and fro … to and fro. “Anyway, let’s speed this up … the elites found out where the research was taking place and firebombed the city. Unfortunately for them, not everyone died. You survived.”
“And my brother?” I interrupt.
He waves his hand dismissively.
“He apparently left before he was exposed. He’s irrelevant in this.” the Instructor informs me with impatience in his voice. “Should I go on?”
“Yes.”
“Since they don’t know your identity, they can’t unleash their virus, for if they kill you without quarantining you first the virus that you’re carrying will be unleashed on them. Therefore, they have to find you first in order to neutralize the threat you pose to them.”
“Neutralize?”
“Yes … kill you.” He pauses. “Don’t you see, you’re the one they want to find. You’re the threat to them, not your brother. It’s you, Aronade. It’s you I’ve been hiding.”
“But why? Why have you done this?”
“It’s simple.” he states proudly. “I like games.”
Copyright © Jennifer Alice Chandler 2020
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