New Years Gift

Hello there. I thought that since it is the first day of 2012, I should post something that will hopefully grow this year. (Aka, my writing). So, here is the first rough chapter of The Body. Obviously it is my work and therefore I claim copyright to it.

Let me know what you think. :)

Chapter One

In. Out.

My limbs pump faster, my heart harder, and my lungs faster. The cubes, housing for the population, shift around me. Herding me. Veering right, I slip, my bare feet skating on the slick pavement. Slick with sweat. I pick myself up, grunting as I gulp down another breath, and start again. Steam rolls of my quivering body, waving above me like a flag. My feet pound the street, numb. I snatch a glance over my shoulder. I see nothing but know they are there. Here. All around me. They’ve hunted me for eighteen years, hungry for my unenhanced flesh.

In. Out.

Tripping around a corner, I scamper forward. Clawing at empty air, I run. My throat is raw with strangled screams. Even if they could get free, no one would hear them. Because the people, sleeping in their cubes are more prisoner than I.

The air hums, vibrating with their elastic movements. I scrape the sweat out of my eyes with my sweater’s sleeve. Mouth wide, I suck in air. Hair stinging my eyes, I look for a way out. But there is none. There was never one. I am as hopeless as the day I was born.

In. Out.

My own body fights me, dragging me down. I head for a gap between cubes, bolting for the alley beyond. Hope slips through a crack first, a second before it seals. I slam into the wall, beating it with weak fists. I press my forehead against the cool, flawless surface, releasing a shaky breath. Eyes shut, I stand there, my body rattling against the plastic house.

The hum intensifies, raising bumps under my skin. I shiver. They’re here. They’re here for me.

My finger tips slip down the wall in front of me, tracing its square panels with unsteady fingers. I press my lips together and swallow. For eighteen years I had had nightmares about this moment. The moment they came for the fugitive. The most innocent and guilty criminal that ever lived. The moment they found me.

Slowly, I turn. The alley, tinted blue from the overheads, seems to shrink in the presence of them, their two slender forms filling the space with ravenous power. Two. A man and a woman, more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. That was more than enough. One enhanced could subdue me.

I feel my pulse throbbing in my neck and feel their sharp gazes rest where the vein drums against the skin. Stoic, they stand. Their perfect faces chiseled in eternal empty smiles.

The woman, blonde and blue eyed, opens her lips to speak but the rest of her remains unchanged. Blank. “Please, stay calm. We are here to help.”

I press my lips together. Everything within me longs to believe her, to accept the manipulated reality before me as safe. As true.
But I can’t. Not now. Not after tonight.

I lift my chin so she can see the tears streaking my face. Not that it’ll affect her. They cut all emotion out.

The man takes a step toward me, his arms outstretched in welcome. It’s a rigid, uninviting gesture. I cross my arms over my stomach, hugging the folds of my sweater tighter around me. “We know who you are,” he says. “We are going to take you to a safe place.”

A suffocated laugh rasps up my throat. “Is that what they call death now?”

“You are confused,” the woman states, approaching me. I press myself into the wall, tensing.

“You’ve been through a traumatic event,” the man recites, advancing on my other side. They stop in front of me, their manufactured features so perfect. They are like angels. Except from Hell.

I open my mouth, trying to gather the saliva in my mouth so I can spit in their beautiful faces. My dad taught me how. It would be a fitting last act.

The woman lifts her index finger to my temple just as I spew. It splats across her forehead but she continues undeterred. I feel her fingertip slide into the groove on the side of my head and my muscles go numb. I fold to the ground, my mouth open in a silent scream as the air rushes from my lungs.

Out . . .

#

Pounding registers in my shell-like head. Like my brain is beating against my skull, trying to escape its dying body. My body. It feels numb, a heavy weight I’m chained to. Where am I?

The outside world starts to register. Muffled sounds, fuzzy glimpses, and slivers of smells. I work at opening my eyes, blinking them against the harsh white light. It’s so pure and strong it blinds me at first. Shadows dance above me in a jerky dance. I squint at them trying to make them out. As my sense begin to clear, the reek of alcohol shoves up my nostrils. My ears collect scraps of screams and grunts as the shadows materialize over me. And then it hits me: they’re fighting.

On one side of me is a man with old, worn clothing and scraggily blonde hair. His face, creased in concentration, is littered with the beginnings of a beard. The man on the right is his complete opposite. Platinum blonde hair, sapphire eyes, and perfect muscles under pale skin. I recognize him as the enhanced who cornered me in the street. Which reminds me, I’m supposed to be dead. Because my parents are dead. They killed them.

A scream chokes out of my throat. My body bucks against the pristine table where it’s tethered by wire and tubes. They’re plugged into every inch of my body, sensing, injecting, and sucking. My flesh ripples, shivering with the feeling of being separated by thousands of needles.

At my guttural groans, the rugged man’s gaze flashes my way. He’s strange. His blue eyes are so dark they’re almost black. Dangerous. Wild. Hunted. My throat is too dry for any sounds to survive it. But I pray my lips can form the shape and he’ll understand the message. Help me.

Returning his attention to the enhanced, he ducks a titanium-enforced punch and reaches into a pouch at his belt, yanking out a small syringe. With a swift motion that matches the unthinkable speed of the enhanced, he thrusts the needle in his enemy’s underarm. The enhanced rears back, yanking the syringe out of his skin. He examines the vial just as the twitching begins, racking his body back and forth until he crumples to the ground.

The stranger straightens, turning his deadly gaze to me. I tremble, my wires and tubes rattling together in the sudden silence. As he brushes back his coat, I watch his fingers expertly find a long, curved blade. And I wonder if my innocence has condemned me.

I examine the man’s face, tearing my gaze away from the cruel glint of the metal. His jaw is strong and angled. Disheveled, his hair sticks in his eyelashes. Grit streaks his skin. And his clothing is worn around his every muscle. As I take in his raw power, I feel my own body quaking with weakness. With one careless move, he could kill me. He doesn’t need a knife to do it.
Staring into his eyes, my instinctual fear evaporates. They’re dark not because of malice but because of sorrow. Tears that have not been allowed to escape are trapped in his eyes, shadowing them. His face, lined and blank, covers memories and emotions, the scars where he’s tried to erase his story. He is riddled with regret. And yet he doesn’t even acknowledge the dying croaks of the enhanced in the corner. With one practiced, stiff motion, the man slices through my cords. Their owners, formerly calm monitors, erupt in strobes and sirens.

I feel my lips moving. A rustling as my throat ripples open with whispered words. “Who are you?”

He pauses for a moment, watching me like a hunter. His eyes flicker over me with uncertainty and I realize he fears me. Then he lifts his gaze to mine, locking on. His lips, faintly bleeding open and he answers. But my pulse is pounding and I can’t hear—it sounds like ‘Savior’. With one swift motion, he pulls a vial from a pocket in his leather jacket and slides its needle under the skin of my restrained arm. For some reason, I don’t scream. I simply sigh, watching him until my eyelids float closed. As I drift away, he cuts me free and folds me into his arms.


<3 Katie