Flawed (Perfection) Page 3

  “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to finish my patrol,” she continued, dismissing the officers with a curt nod.

  Both officers extended their right arms, eye level, and said, “Heil.”

  After returning the Nazi salute, Trista stood in the middle of the road as the two males slipped on their helmets and mounted the quads. As soon as the rumble of the engines disappeared, she waved for Ellyssa, Rein and Woody to come, then ran to the SUV.

  “Hurry,” Trista said when they reached her. “We need to go before something else happens. Take off your parkas.”

  “It’s freezing,” Woody protested.

  “It won’t be for long,” Trista said, pulling the back seat’s cushion up and revealing a small metal box. “It’ll get warm, I promise. Besides, do you want to lie on the metal?”

  Looking into the space, Woody shook his head. “I guess not.”

  “Then take off your parkas.”

  Ellyssa shrugged out of her coat and handed it to Trista. Icy cold sank razor-sharp claws into her skin. Shivering, she hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Teeth chattering, Rein and Woody huddled close to her.

  Trista took the parkas and lined the bottom of the space. “Hop in.”

  Ellyssa eyed the cramped compartment. Her mouth pulled to the side. “I do not think we will fit.”

  “You really don’t have a choice. Now, hop in. I don’t like the way Officer Frey questioned me.”

  “I’ll take the back,” Rein said, sliding his arm around her shoulder. Warmth escaped his body and grazed her skin. “You in the middle. Woody up front.”

  “Is there a way out?”

  “Yeah, when I let you out.” Trista gestured with her hand. “Climb in already.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a safe place.” Trista frowned. “What’s up with you?”

  Ellyssa blanched, and Rein kissed her temple. “I promise nothing is going to happen to you. Trust me,” he said through chattering teeth.

  Ellyssa swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Trust, so foreign still, yet so much part of who she was, too. “Okay. But I don’t like this.” She faced Trista. “As soon as you let me out, I have questions for you.”

  “And I’ll have some answers.” She looked from one to the others. “As a matter of fact, our little group is a lot bigger than we’d ever imagined.” She smiled. “Now climb in and let’s go.”

  Ellyssa could have easily gleaned the information; Trista’s mind was an open book, but she refrained. It was part of the whole “trust” thing.

  Rein settled into the cramped space, lying on his side. With reservation, Ellyssa slid in next to him, her back against his stomach. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Woody followed, facing away from them.

  The last thing Ellyssa saw was Trista’s face as she replaced the cushion. Darkness enveloped them in a tight cocoon. Movement was impossible. Oxygen seemed depleted.

  “Relax,” Rein breathed in her ear, apparently sensing the rolling tension. His lips grazed her earlobe.

  Struggling, Woody managed to slip his hand behind him and, awkwardly, patted Ellyssa on the thigh. “It’s going to be fine. Just like when we went to Chicago.”

  Closing her eyes, Ellyssa inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. She concentrated on Rein’s touch, the warmth he radiated, the electricity that pulsed where their skin touched, his breath grazing her ear. She concentrated on Woody, the feel of his back against her stomach, the way his chest rose and fell.

  By the time the engine purred to life, calm had settled into Ellyssa, her heartbeat slow, soothing. She kept her eyes closed as she listened to the hum of tires and felt the vibrations of the SUV moving down the road.

  After a few minutes, though, she began to realize what Trista had been talking about. Beads of sweat formed along her hairline.

  “God, it’s hot in here,” Woody said, voicing what Ellyssa had just thought.

  The faint sound of a giggle reached Ellyssa’s ears. “I told you,” Trista said.

  4

  Commadant Hans Baer, commander of the concentration camp, Amarufoss, looked through the window into the compound where the line of newly acquired political enemies swept the area free of debris. The prisoners’ drab grey-striped cotton jackets and pyjama bottoms whipped around in the freezing West Texas wind. There wasn’t anything to buffer them against the extreme conditions, just flat land stretched across the expanse formerly known as the Panhandle. The commander knew they were freezing; they had to be, but such treatment might persuade them to be a bit more cooperative during interrogations.

  The Resistance had proven to be much more complex than any of the State had ever dreamed, a labyrinth of secrecy that wound deeply into dead-end trails. It was their own fault for thinking the small bands of Renegades they had raided and caught showed the decline in the old belief system. The Nazis had become complacent, sure of their control, while the strength of the Resistance had grown.

  This last batch of prisoners, hiding in a cave in Missouri, had proven the military’s arrogance. That a band that large had survived and held the type of technology the Gestapo had found confirmed the Resistance was much more resourceful and ingenious than previously believed. Also, it confirmed they were receiving outside help.

  Fifty-one prisoners had been brought in. Fifty-one. Many he watched now, working detail in the windy cold with their flimsy uniforms. The number was astounding. And that didn’t include the ones who had perished during the raid.

  The Commandant glanced at the clock, then resumed his at-ease stance, calm and cool, completely opposite of how he felt, and stared out the window. A bead of sweat formed at his hairline. He quickly wiped it away.

  The young girl in faux-cherubic disguise was to pay him another visit, and he didn’t have any new information. Even after torturing the prisoners, he had been unable to force confessions from any of them, just like all the other enemies of the state who had visited his camp before. Their loyalty still proved unbreakable. One day, though, he was going to find a chink in their armor.

  Worrying about the report, Hans watched the camera feed as a silver Audi Q7 with tinted windows rolled to a stop outside the gates. Two of Commandant Baer’s men, dressed in olive-green tunics and field-grey breeches, stepped out of the checkpoint with their rifles. They fought for purchase against the wind as they made their way to the automobile.

  Commandant Baer turned around and walked away from the window, annoyed at how the two strange teens affected him.

  Pale, blond hair, flawless skin, full lips, perfect-lined facial features. They looked like angels. Beautiful. The epitome of perfection.

  But hidden within the depths of sky-blue eyes, danger lurked—intelligent, cold and calculating, especially the little girl. Her stare sliced right through his aplomb and burrowed into his flesh, leaving him unsure and unsteady, something he was not accustomed to.

  Hans still remembered the way Aalexis had walked into his office with her brother, Xaver, at her side. The boy couldn’t have been older than fourteen, fifteen tops, the girl maybe thirteen.

  Contrary to their youthful appearance, though, they were both tall, very tall. The boy already was close to Hans’ height, and the young girl reached just below his chin. Their demeanor had been mature and rigid, and their speech was thick with a German accent, as if they’d been born in the Fatherland, and devoid of emotion, robot-like.

  Plus, the way Aalexis had gazed at him, as if he was as lowly and detestable as a Renegade.

  The memory unsettled him.

  At the time, Hans would had sent her packing if it wasn’t for his commanding officer, Colonel Fiedler. Apparently, the little girl had some sort of influence over the military and Gestapo, probably the State, too, which was even more unsettling. The Colonel had ordered his complete cooperation without the courtesy of explanation. The only thing Hans’ commanding officer had divulged was that both children were from The Center that had been
destroyed, special, and an important link.

  A link to what, Hans hadn’t a clue. The Center had been a lab for genetic research; some children of a purer descent were born there, and the Center developed had specialized training. He held no doubt Aalexis and Xaver were byproducts of one or the other, probably both. But there was nothing extraordinary or new that he was aware of. The Colonel had refused to elaborate when Hans had asked.

  Commandant Baer stared at the wall-length mirror. Besides a slight flush in his cheeks, his external physique hid the twitching nerves inside; his blue eyes revealed nothing. His silver hair was parted down the right side and combed back, and his mouth was a thin, carved line.

  He straightened his black tie, brushed imaginary lint off of his dark blue Waffenrock, then pulled the seams down so the red piping lay straight along the hems. A sharp crease ran down the legs of his slate-grey breeches.

  Frowning, the Commandant leaned closer. A fingerprint marred the silver eagle above his right breast pocket.

  That will never do.

  He grabbed a tissue from the dispenser on his desk and buffed until the silver gleamed. Then he polished the four diamond insignia and the SS rune.

  Better.

  Straightening the silver braided belt, he turned just as the door swung open.

  Corporal Niklas Kraus, his senior clerk, stepped through. “Heil Hitler,” he said, arm extended at eye level.

  The Commandant returned the salute, and Niklas stood at attention. Hans inspected the enlisted man; he looked sharp in his dark-blue tunic and grey breeches. The brassy buttons were polished to perfection. His honey-blond hair, trimmed and neat, looked very professional.

  “At ease.”

  Relaxing, Niklas placed his hands behind his back “Fräulein Aalexis and Herr Xaver have arrived, sir.”

  “Yes. Yes. I know. Are they through the gate yet?” he said, taking a seat in his leather chair.

  “The front-gate just called to verify the papers, sir.”

  “Very good,” Hans said, with confidence he didn’t possess. “Escort them in when they arrive.”

  “Yes, sir.” Niklas closed the door behind him, leaving the commandant alone with his thoughts.

  Aalexis turned in her seat and watched the two inferiors who had greeted her and Xaver at the gate rush back inside the checkpoint. The guards watched the SUV, their lips moving with unheard words, as the metal gate slid across the road and clanged shut. She turned back around, listening to the tires grate across the pebbles and dirt, while Xaver navigated toward a long rectangular building with stairs. He pulled right in front of the door and pushed the ignition button that turned off the engine. Without speaking, he turned toward her, his blue eyes iridescent under the glow of the interior lights. She ignored him and looked out the window.

  Amarufoss Concentration Camp was as flat and boring as rest of the area she’d seen thus far. Four-meter-high walls made of thick concrete blocks encircled the camp with rolls of razor wire crowning the tops, the sharpened edges glinting in the sun. On the other side of the barrier, unseen from the inside, lay more rows of the razor wire and, surrounding the perimeter, a chain-link fence. Off to the right, another block wall separated the camp into two. The female barracks lay on the other side, but Aalexis wasn’t interested in them. All the names Rein had called during interrogation were male. All except for her sister’s.

  Xaver opened the passenger door.

  Reminiscent of cold gusts off Lake Michigan, the wind blowing across the plains held the same icy feel that cut right through any clothing and bit tender skin. The only difference was that the plains’ wind held the odor of dust and the stench of filthy Renegades, instead of a wintery clean scent blowing off the water.

  Aalexis didn’t like it.

  Grabbing Xaver’s extended hand, Aalexis scooted free from the passenger seat. She released him as soon as she was upright, then closed her fist tight, wishing away the tingling and the sense of comfort he provided for her. She couldn’t understand the feeling his touch elicited.

  She didn’t like that either.

  Until her father had died by Ellyssa’s hand, any physical contact had been forbidden. Since his death, however, Xaver had touched her freely. Helping her out of cars, placing a hand on her back as they walked.

  It was confusing. Physical contact led to emotions. Emotions led to weakness. Aaelexis was not weak. As a matter of fact, she was the strongest, bestowed with a unique power.

  Aalexis was omnipotent.

  With just a twinge of thought, she could reduce any full-grown man to a sniveling dog, and never lay a finger on him. That had been the reason why Dr. Hirch had left instructions to Xaver to protect her at all costs.

  But Ellyssa had changed the rules when she’d destroyed her father and The Center. Aalexis loathed her sister.

  Hatred was an emotion Aalexis could understand. She, as all her siblings, had thrived on the emotion. It wove through her being, making her strong and sure…and vengeful.

  Ellyssa would pay for her indiscretions, for reducing the goals her father had worked toward in the name of der Führer to a pile of ash. Now, her father’s unfinished work fell on Aalexis’ and Xaver’s shoulders. A task she would see through.

  “Are you ready?” asked Xaver, his hand centimeters from hers.

  Aalexis could feel his warmth through the biting temperature. She moved her hand away. “Yes. Let us proceed.”

  Turning around, Xaver led the way up the stairs and through the door. He stepped aside so that she could cross the threshold. Warm air greeted her as soon as she entered, as did the sterile environment she’d encountered during her previous visit. The walls were made of cement blocks, painted white, with no décor to cheer the room. Grey metal filing cabinets lined the wall next to the entrance and matched the grey of the desk where the corporal stood. Off to the right, a door marked STORAGE was closed.

  “Heil,” said the corporal in his pristine, freshly ironed uniform.

  “Heil,” Xaver returned.

  “May I take your coat, Fräulein Aalexis?” The corporal started to walk toward them with his hand extended. He stopped when Xaver stepped in front of him.

  “Do not touch her,” Xaver said, his voice flat and emotionless. Aalexis could hear the implication behind the monotonous tone, though. Her brother was to protect her at all cost, and he took the task seriously.

  Halting, the corporal blinked, surprised at the confrontation. He looked lost for a moment, unsure how to proceed as he watched Xaver help her out of her coat. Finally, the corporal stepped back and waved his arm toward the Commandant’s door. Xaver handed him both of their coats.

  “Commandant Baer is expecting you,” he said, draping the outerwear over his arm. He opened the door, then stepped as far off to the side as possible, granting room for Aalexis and Xaver to enter. “Fräulein Aalexis and Herr Xaver, Sir,” he presented.

  Aalexis entered first. As she stepped past the corporal, she glanced at him. His anxious eyes remained straight ahead.

  No wonder the Resistance still existed when such inferior humans were still allowed to walk. The civilians and military should have been subjected to the intense programming she and her siblings had endured. Not that it mattered. Even with such training, they’d still be substandard. They lacked the genetic makeup and the intelligence of superior beings such as herself and her brother. Ordinary people still possessed useless emotions.

  Her father had been right; they were weak, low-grade beings.

  Aalexis’ meeting with Colonel Fiedler had further confirmed her father’s teaching. The Colonel had been impressed when she’d demonstrated her ability—very impressed, indeed. Yet he hadn’t understood. He had tried to hide his awe behind a cool countenance, but he’d failed. She didn’t need Ellyssa’s power to read the greed and hunger for power lurking behind the Colonel’s gaze.

  Power without the work.

  Aalexis had thought a military education would’ve taught that borrowed technology
without the effort only led to downfall. It seemed history was doomed to repeat itself amongst the flawed.

  Narren nicht erkennen, as her father had said time and time again. Fools do not recognize.

  She disregarded the male officer and turned her attention to the office where the more sterile environment of the clerk’s office met warmth and color, the Commandant’s tastes reflected in the decor. Dark paneling and green curtains. Pictures of landscapes and, she assumed, family hung from the walls. Books and bric-a-brac littered the shelves behind the large mahogany desk.

  Aalexis knew the desk was meant to intimidate people by making the commander seem large and important. Such psychological games were lost on her and Xaver, though.

  “Fräulein Aalexis and Herr Xaver.”

  The Commandant indicated with a wave of his hand for them to make themselves at home in the green-upholstered chairs. “Did you have an enjoyable flight?” he asked.

  One of the lessons she and her siblings had been taught was to appear polite before the bite. The bite was coming soon enough, and she saw no reason to engage in such petty subhuman niceties.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He looked at Xaver. “And the car was to your liking?”

  Xaver acknowledged his question with a curt nod.

  Alexis studied the commander. His height was within the acceptable parameters of the average male, a hard face with wrinkles engraved on his forehead and around his mouth. His file indicated fifty-six, but he looked older than her father had at seventy. His silver hair was neat and parted to the right, and the uniform he wore was ironed and sharp, polished medals of honor hanging from his chest. Hard, steely blue eyes tried to hide uncertainty as he stood behind the desk. Anxiety radiated from the commander of the camp. He feared her, as well he should.

  Nervousness was a sign of hesitation. Hesitation meant avoidance. Apparently, the commander didn’t have the information she sought.