Regress (The Alliance Chronicles Book 1) Page 3

  “Who are you? Where do you come from? Why are you on the streets?”

  He laughed. “What happened to one question at a time?” Z pinched the bridge of his nose. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll play along. My name’s Zared Aoki.”

  Oh hell! I thought he was familiar for a reason. Now I knew why. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  A flush crept across his face. “Maybe?”

  “We grew up on the West side. Went to the same school. We dated a couple of times. Ring a bell?”

  The two of us were Hybrids, mixed race ethnicities, and we were practically neighbors at one point. Back then, he went by his full name. We didn’t actually date, just kind of hung out together and talked on the phone a few times. The last time I saw him we went to a movie. He never called me back after that. Then my family moved.

  “Of course, I remember you.” His voice was low and tender.

  “Did you forget how to use a phone?”

  He stopped before me. “What are you talking about?”

  “After our last date you never called me back.”

  “If you would let me finish, you might find out what happened.”

  “Sorry.” I raised my hands.

  “Remember the pandemic?”

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  “When was it?”

  Great. He wanted dates? I sucked with dates. “2020.”

  “And what year did we go out?”

  “The same year?”

  “Yeah. My mother passed away after our last date.” He wrapped his arms around himself and his head drooped. “My life kind of fell apart after her death. One day I came home to an empty house. I studied for hours before realizing it was late. I called Dad’s office and no one answered. I called his phone and got voice mail. So, I went to the office where an official notice hung on the locked doors. The government was investigating my dad. I never saw or heard from him again."

  “Wow. I’m sorry.” I felt his pain. I wanted to pull him into my arms. Let him know he wasn’t alone. But it might be too soon for that. I clasped my hands behind my back.

  “Don’t be.” His sullen eyes spoke volumes. “I’m over it.”

  “What happened to your father? The guy sounds like a bum.”

  Zared clenched his fist. “He wasn’t a bum, just a man of principles.”

  “Was?”

  “Yeah.” His expression softened. “He’s dead too.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry for jumping on your back. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s the past.”

  How does one get over the loss of a parent? Losing anyone in my family would devastate me. “Okay. Getting back to this whole conspiracy thing. Got any proof?”

  “Have you been listening? I know things. I told you about your file. Did you believe anything I said?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But what?” His brow creased.

  “Nothing.” I twisted my hair around a finger. Something didn’t ring right about what he told me. He said his father disappeared because of his conviction. Maybe the man simply abandoned him. It happens. Perhaps he couldn’t deal with life after his wife died.

  “What exactly did your dad do?”

  “Does it matter?” He faced the only window in the office, partially covered with thick plastic. He braced himself against the windowsill.

  “I guess not.” I approached him. “I'm trying to make sense of it all.”

  “Does everything have to be perfectly explained?”

  Yes, it did.

  When I was around four or five, I painted a picture of a blue sun. My teacher told me the sun had to be yellow. I told her it was sad so, it had to be blue or maybe purple. That teacher spent ten minutes explaining why the sun had to conform to a standard. Later, my parents affirmed what she said. So yes, I required explanations. Sometimes those theories were flawed. I challenged flaws.

  “But why does it matter what I think?”

  Zared spun around knocking me off balance. He caught my elbow before I fell. “Because I need your help.”

  I pulled away from him. “With what?”

  “Let me ask you a question. Do you wish people knew more about the mandatory vaccine?”

  “Of course.” Yes, without question. I didn’t care about everyone else. Just other Creatives.

  “Why?” He tilted his head.

  “Because it's an invasion of our basic civil rights. Plus, what if it harmed people like the old vaccines?”

  “What else?”

  “Well, it has bad side effects on Creatives.”

  He crossed his arms. “Anything else?”

  “I don't know.” I threw my hands up. What did he expect from me? I hadn’t considered every negative aspect of the vaccine.

  “Stop being clueless!” Zared ran a hand through his thick sable hair. “Why else should you not have the vaccine?”

  I looked at him. My mind went blank. I didn’t know what to say. What other reason did I have against the vaccine? No other country had mandatory… “Because no other country forces vaccines on their citizens!”

  He smiled. “And uh, how do you know that?”

  I returned the smile. “Because I've done the research.”

  “There you go.” Zared rocked back on his heels.

  “Okay, you've researched all this and got proof. You know you could have said that. What do you want help with anyway? More research?”

  “Ah, Clueless is back in the building.” He rubbed his brow.

  “Excuse you? I don’t need this crap!” I grabbed my purse and headed for the exit.

  “Leave. It's not as if anything terrible will happen to you. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  I froze. Drones. An arrest might rush my Inoculation Day. Waiting until daybreak was the best-case scenario. Like it or not, we were stuck together for the night.

  “Hey, how about we forget the whole thing for now?”

  “Fine by me,” he replied.

  I didn’t believe for a minute that Zared had lived on the streets. He didn’t look the type. He removed his jacket and my suspicions were more aroused— his T-shirt clung to his sculpted chest and powerful biceps. No street person had a body like his. He didn’t look that good five years ago.

  “So what do we do now?” He held the bedroll in his hands.

  I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. I didn’t want to consider what we might do. “We could talk about something else.”

  “Fine.” He tossed the bedroll on the filthy floor and made himself comfortable. “You gonna stand there all night?”

  My eyes surveyed the dimly lit room. Deteriorating cardboard boxes lay against a pockmarked wall. I didn’t want to imagine what lurked behind them. The too-small desk was also dirty. My eyes settled on some crates pushed into a shallow brick alcove. “Can I have a blanket? I’ll take the crates.”

  Zared raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

  I crossed my arms and stared back at him.

  “So you expect me to freeze?” He sat there gawking at me.

  “You’re a guy. Deal with it.”

  “And if I don’t deal with it?”

  I stood my ground. Truth be told, I didn’t trust myself with him. I made up my mind. Stay away from Zared Aoki. End of story.

  He shrugged his shoulders and peered back at me. Great. He matched my stubbornness. I sat on top of a crate, pulled my legs up, and hugged my knees. My teeth chattered and my fingers went numb. It didn’t matter how cold I got. I wouldn’t lie on the floor. Ooooh! He was a pigheaded, arrogant bastard and…so…so…damn attractive! I closed my eyes.

  Thou shall not be critical in any way of leadership.

  —10 Commandments of Personal Conduct, Thaxton Bible, 2021

  I lost track of how much time passed. A pleasant warmth, cozy and inviting, replaced the cold. My head jerked back. Zared sat beside me with the blanket draped around our shoulders. When did he move? It didn’t matter. I won.

  My half-ope
n eyes met his. “What are you doing?”

  “Dealing with it.” His voice sounded scruffy.

  “No funny stuff.” It was more of a personal warning. My gaze fixated on his mouth. As a kid I never had the opportunity to kiss his perfectly shaped lips—slightly full with a deep dip on the upper lip. Would they be moist and soft? Or hot and spicy? Would it be possible to reignite feelings I’d forgotten about? When we moved away I thought my crush disappeared as well. Wrong.

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  I reached around inside my purse. My hand landed on the leather sheath containing the double-edged knife I always kept with me. What if he told the truth about living on the streets? A hard life changed people. I pulled it out and tucked the weapon into my waistband.

  Zared’s eyes followed my movements. “The latest in fashion accessories?”

  I winked and patted the blade. “I don’t leave home without it.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Can you use it?”

  I grinned. “Care to find out?”

  “Not particularly. Y’know, you never answered my question.”

  “Which one?”

  “Will you help me?”

  “Can’t we talk about something else?”

  “Do I have your help?”

  He didn’t know how to change a subject. I played with my jacket zipper. “With what?”

  “Exposing the New Order.”

  I folded my arms over my stomach. “Did I hear you right?”

  His brown eyes locked on to mine. “Yeah. You in or out?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” He leaned closer brushing against me. The heady scent of sandalwood drew me to him like the first notes played on a Stradivarius. Intriguing. Arousing. A tingle raced down my spine.

  “What makes you think we can do that?” Good looking and dumb. Questioning the government was stupid. Challenging it was a death wish. Now I sounded like Ko.

  “Trust me. It's possible.”

  I shook my head. “No, no, no. Exposing the government will take a lot more than trust.”

  “I know things. Valuable things. We can do this. Together.” Listening to him speak reminded me of a small kid with a new toy. Enthusiasm shone in his eyes like a Fourth of July sparkler.

  How do we do the impossible? He must have watched too many movies. We were teens. Just a couple of kids. We challenged our parents, our teachers. Not the leaders of the country.

  “I don’t know.”

  His smile revealed deep dimples. Sorry gorgeous, my help required a lot more than devastating looks.

  “Promise me you’ll think on it.” His voice was smoky, suggestive. Just what did he want me to think about?

  He had a crazy, somewhat credulous idea. But, what he contemplated was dangerous. Riskier than anything I’d ever done. People who went against the government were traitors. They were tortured and killed. We couldn’t do this. It gave a whole new meaning to the word wrong.

  “I’m going to sleep.”

  “Tru?”

  “What?”

  “Will you think on it?”

  “Fine! I’ll think on it. Go to sleep.”

  I’d left the warehouse district an hour ago. My shoes echoed on the deserted rain slicked sidewalk. The quiet night air was cold and smelled of moist dirt. Once again, I’d missed the train and had to walk home. Big mistake on my part. Sure, I had protection but it wouldn’t stop….

  The familiar electronic hum approached from behind me. I was out in the open with no place to hide. Without any warning, the air above me filled with drones coming from every direction. I had no choice but to surrender. I knelt on the wet asphalt with my hands up.

  The police dragged me into an unfamiliar, abandoned building. The walls and floors gleamed white. I gagged on the smell of fresh chlorine. My eyes stung from the intense, white lights. Fiery pain ripped through my arms. Smoke escaped my lips. So cold. My teeth chattered. My body kept shaking.

  I lifted my head. A man in the trademark navy blue suit of the CHA stood in front of me. My insides quivered. A metallic voice announced I was a traitor and a danger to society. But it offered me a choice—immediate administration of the vaccine or death.

  It didn’t matter. Either way killed a Creative.

  Someone held a syringe filled with a golden liquid.

  A flash of dark steel. The cold barrel of a gun pressed against my temple. If I chose me, my family would be heartbroken. If I…too late. Someone else made my choice. I didn’t get a say in the matter. A man pulled the trigger.

  I woke up sweating and shaking. My vision blurred. I blinked. My knife pressing against my side reminded me of my surroundings. I had fallen asleep with my head on Zared’s shoulder. I sat up and inched away from him.

  “What’s wrong?” He rubbed his eyes.

  “Nothing.” I found my voice. “Just a bad dream.” Understatement. It was my frequent nightmare about the vaccine. It began a year ago. The closer I got to my birthday, the more frequent the dreams got. Now they came every night.

  Exposing the government might not be such a bad idea. With exposure, nobody else would face another Inoculation Day. All Creatives would be safe, and my nightmares would end. But, it was risky. Death would be our reward if we failed. Well, Zared would face certain death. Me? There would be a syringe with my name on it. Failure was not an option.

  “You okay?” He tapped my knee.

  I flinched. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you want to ta…?”

  “No.” I stared at the floor. Was he a moron? Talking about my dream might make it happen. Yes, it was superstitious, but I was clinging to it. I had ten more days of believing whatever I wanted. Ten more days to be me. I swallowed a sob.

  “Tru?”

  “What?” I turned my head.

  “I’m not selling you out to the authorities.”

  I searched his face for a trace of sincerity. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “I hope not. I have problems with liars.”

  “I’m not lying. I won’t turn you in.” He spoke so low, forcing me to move closer. “Your nightmare was about Inoculation Day?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Your file.”

  Of course, my artistic ability was in a file. Color me stupid. The learning center administered annual behavioral and intelligence tests. The tests pinpointed Creatives. Remember, I said dreams have a way of becoming reality. I knew what was required of me.

  “Zared?” My stomach twisted and turned.

  “What?”

  “I’ll help you if you help me.”

  His body stiffened. “With what?”

  “A way to avoid my Inoculation Day.”

  “Done.”

  “Are you sure? It won’t be easy.”

  “I know.”

  “So you’ll help me?”

  He touched my arm. “Yes.”

  I raised my head. “Now, what’s your plan?”

  “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men were created by a Creator with the ability to enjoy an enriched life that is Structured, Controlled, and Peaceable.”

  —Preamble to the Constitution of the American Republic, 2020

  At dawn’s first light, Zared walked me to the rail station. We continued talking about his plan centered on a piece of technology called Intrepid.

  “Why was it created?” I asked.

  “Politicians stopped doing their job. Citizens got curious. A programmer thought it was a good idea to keep an eye on the government.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets. It was another frigid morning in New Detroit. “Why is this technology so important?”

  “Secrets. The people I work for want to expose those secrets.”

  “And who do you work for again?”

  “Someone who promises to get me off the streets.”

  We stopped at the rail station. I still had questions, but they would have to wait. “Meet up at noon?�
��

  He flipped up his jacket collar. “Sounds good.”

  I collapsed against the cushiony seat on the M-1 railcar, watching him walk away from the station. I leaned my throbbing head against the icy window. The chill spread through my brain blotting out the pain. It was relaxing, akin to lying on a blanket of grass. I closed my eyes and forgot about my empty stomach.

  Zared piqued my curiosity. He knew a lot about my family and me, and it was a little too convenient how he rescued me from the drones. I contemplated whether his employer told him about my family.

  If I weren’t careful, I’d lose my head over this guy. Dangerous, mysterious, and attractive. Just my type. I wouldn’t call him a bad guy. He just had some rough edges. Could I help him without my hormones getting in the way? I should have taken more time to think before saying yes.

  I had a habit of jumping into things with both feet, asking questions when it got too deep. Ko called me impulsive. She feared something bad would happen to me one day. Well, she would have been proud of me last night. I asked questions. Maybe they weren’t the right ones, but I asked. I hoped running into Zared was a good thing. It had to be a good thing. I needed help avoiding the vaccine.

  I stepped onto the rail station platform. The ‘A’ Towers’ red brick and stone exterior stood proudly against the bright sun. The bitter cold stung my eyes. I wiped away the tears and dug my hands into my pockets. My family would be starting their day. I imagined the heavenly smell of scrambled eggs and salsa wafting from the kitchen.

  My phone buzzed. I dug it out of my purse.

  “Hey Tru.” Ko was a little too peppy on a Saturday morning. “You're up early.”

  “I know, right?” On weekends, I stayed in bed until noon. “What’s up?”

  “Making sure you got home all right. You never called.”

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m glad you called. I need a favor. I missed curfew last night.” I stomped my numb feet on the cracked pavement trying to get the blood flowing again. My news would have Ko rolling her eyes. Last thing I needed this morning was a lecture.

  “Tru, where are you?”

  “I’m home. Don’t worry.” Now, why did I say that? “Nothing happened.”