Flawed (Perfection) Page 4

  “Hans,” Aalexis paused as the commander’s eyebrows shot up. Apparently, he was unused to being addressed by his first name and appeared to be contemplating a reprimand, but when her eyes narrowed, his courage seemed to dwindle. Better for her to establish her position over him.

  “Let us put formalities aside for the time being,” she continued. “You know the reason why I am here.”

  Surprised the girl had the gall to address him so informally, Hans’ gaze swept from Aalexis to Xaver. Void of any emotion, both sat in the green chairs, still as statues, backs rigidly straight, hands resting on knees, like a perfect young lady and gentleman. Aalexis’ full lips curled into a chilling smile after she addressed him, her German accent strong. Xaver’s lips mimicked the falsity.

  They might look like regular teens in civilian clothing—him in a bright-colored sweater and jeans, she in a blue-and-white knit dress, his hair short, hers tied into a braid. Both were beautiful with flawless skin, his features chiseled and hers deceptively cherubic.

  Danger lurked behind the façade. Knowledge and secrecy lay hidden within the depths of their appearance. Their eyes were as cold and hard as the last time they had visited.

  Lifting his chin, Hans leaned back in his chair, his fingers folding across his chest. “I’m sorry to inform you, but as I stated during our last communication, there’s nothing new to report.” He was relieved the words sounded more confident than he felt.

  For a brief second, the fire of anger flickered behind Aalexis’ blue eyes, then extinguished into smoldering ashes of disgust. “I see,” she responded. “It is unfortunate. I was under the impression your camp was efficient.”

  Lifting his chin, Hans proudly stated, “My camp is the most feared.”

  “Yet you have no information about where the Renegade, Ellyssa, is hiding.”

  “It’s unfortunate, but I’m not surprised. It’s not unusual for the information to be kept secret. Many prisoners have died while under my command for their refusal to cooperate. Their loyalty to each other is unwavering.”

  Aalexis stared at him, her gaze steady, as if trying to pry the information from his mind. Her blue eyes amazingly cooled even more, although her face showed no change in emotion.

  A chill crept up Hans’ spine. His forehead pricked with perspiration, and he looked away, afraid she could see how much she unsettled him. Her eyes never left him, though. He could feel them on him. The same lump climbed back up his throat.

  Hans couldn’t stand the effect the little girl and her brother had on him. He was a Commandant after all, efficient at his job, awarded medals for his loyalty and accomplishments. He’d be damned if a little girl and her lackey brother would make him feel as lowly as a roach in his camp, all while seated in his office. Somewhere, Hans mustered his fleeting courage and met Aalexis’ eyes again.

  The young girl’s composure hadn’t changed at all. She still stared with the same cold in her eyes. Having had enough, he stood. The next thing he knew, Xaver towered over him—the boy had to be close to two hundred centimeters. Danger crept behind the anger in Xaver’s gaze, and a grim line tightened his lips.

  Surprised at the speed with which the teen moved, Hans’ mouth dropped as he stepped back, his daring fleeing. In all his years as a soldier and as an officer, he’d never witnessed someone move so fast. The boy was nothing but a blur.

  “I suggest you sit down,” Aalexis said, emotionlessly. “My brother is well trained in all disciplines of combat arts.” She dipped her chin and her eyes became snake-like slits. “As am I.”

  Hans held no doubt she was telling the truth. The quickness with which her brother moved had completely caught him off-guard. For a fleeting moment, he thought about the gun in his top drawer, but quickly dismissed the idea. Based on the movement of the boy, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  He understood, now, what the Colonel had meant by the “next link.” Earlier, he had thought them the epitome of perfection. They were much more. It seemed The Center had achieved a training program beyond the information allotted to him. Without a word, Hans slowly sank back into his chair.

  “I do understand,” Aalexis said in the same monotonous voice, as if nothing had transpired, “the Renegades’ ability to withstand much in order to protect their society. Perhaps I might have a word with them.” It wasn’t a question.

  “The barracks are off-limits to…” He waivered, forcing composure. He had to maintain control. “…civilians. I don’t think that would be appropriate for you.”

  Aalexis looked at Xaver, who was still standing. They exchanged words in German, most of which Hans was unable to hear; they spoke low and quick, but he was able to pull a few words out of context—dispose, camp, Father.

  Finally, the young girl faced him. “Let me reiterate. I am not requesting.”

  Suddenly, the commandant felt like chum in shark-infested waters.

  As soon as the door opened, the stench of the male barracks wafted up Aalexis’ nose. Sweat, filth, too many un-bathed people living in close proximity.

  Aalexis curled her nose at the creatures; their malnourished frames swallowed by striped pyjamas. They were disgusting and pitiful. Different shades of dark hair, red hair, improper blond, with faces marred with freckles and scars and eyes differing in color and shape. She’d never seen such a large conglomeration of imperfections. How could they stand themselves, knowing they could never measure up to society’s standards?

  She glanced up at her brother. Xaver, too, stared at the subhumans. Although his face held no indication, she knew his revulsion matched her own.

  The prisoners looked up in surprise as early-evening cold air whipped around the small fire in the one potbellied stove, threatening to extinguish the low flames. Then, like the little rats they were, they scurried away from their source of heat and formed a line in front of the bunks. They pulled their shoulders back and looked straight ahead.

  With his chin held high and crop in hand, Commandant Baer strode in front of the rank of pathetic creatures. Except for the occasional cringe when the crop cracked against his gloved hand, the political criminals didn’t move.

  “You have a visitor this evening.”

  As Aalexis studied the prisoners standing at attention between their bunks, their gazes sliced toward Aalexis and Xaver with confusion. None looked for long.

  She remembered the names Rein had called when he’d writhed on the floor from the furnace she’d created in his mind, but was unsure if any had survived the raid or what they looked like. Their emotions would give them away, though. Their inability to hide their weaknesses.

  Pathetic creatures.

  Stepping forward, Aalexis examined one prisoner, then the next. Each time one dared to meet her eyes, he’d quickly look away, like a submissive dog.

  Her eyes stopped at one male with unkempt dark hair peppered with grey. He didn’t look away like the rest, but stared at her with fascination, as if he recognized her. His sand-brown eyes were wide, and his lips pursed together. When he noticed Aalexis watching him, he quickly averted his gaze.

  Trying to ignore the odor, Aalexis went and stood directly in front of him. “Woody?”

  Although he stared straight ahead, his mouth twinged, subtly, right around the corners.

  “Jordan?”

  A shadow crossed his face and a line formed over his nose.

  There was only one name left. “Doc.”

  His eyes flicked down and back up, and she watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. He didn’t acknowledge her, though.

  Within the next moment, the prisoner hung from Xaver’s grasp. The others next to the male flinched away.

  “My sister requires an answer,” Xaver said with no nuance in his voice or face, as if a person wasn’t dangling from his fingertips at all.

  Eyes bulging, he clutched pathetically at Xaver’s hands. “Yes,” he croaked.

  “You know Ellyssa?” she asked, although she knew the answer.

  As expect
ed, the male named Doc attempted a nod.

  Xaver released him.

  “You will come with me,” she said, and walked away.

  5

  By the time the SUV slowed and turned, Ellyssa’s clothing stuck to her skin, her hair damp. Being stuck between Woody and Rein was unbearable; their bodies were like radiators. If Trista didn’t pull over soon, she was going to melt.

  A few uncomfortable bounces down the road later, she received her wish. Muffled voices shouted.

  Rein and Woody stiffened; their tension rolled into Ellyssa. Knowing she was at the mercy of strangers, she fought the instinct to kick out the cushion and escape.

  The window hummed as it rolled down. Trista said, “Open up, would you?”

  Rein relaxed, pulling her closer. “It’s someone she knows,” he whispered, his breath brushing against her ear. His words didn’t calm her instincts.

  Indecipherable words were spoken. The SUV edged forward, then came to a stop. Heart thundering in Ellyssa’s ears, Trista opened the driver’s side door.

  “Where have you been?” a muffled male, the tone familiar.

  Trista didn’t answer. Instead, she grunted as she wiggled the cushion free.

  Light spilled through, blurring Ellyssa’s sight. She flinched, blinked a few times and opened her eyes to Trista’s triumphant smile.

  “I told you I’d find them,” she said, stepping back.

  Two familiar faces poked their heads inside the car. Wearing overalls over a thick, blue sweater, Tim’s eyebrow-less eyes were the size of saucers, and Sarah, dressed in a long coat as yellow as the sunflowers Ellyssa remembered in her kitchen, nodded. Her youthful eyes sparkled, defying the wrinkles embedded around her mouth and eyes.

  “Oh, my lord,” the older female said. “I can’t believe it. You were right, Trista. Here, you three, get out, get out.” She playfully hit Tim on the shoulder, waking him from his stupor. “Would you move?”

  Tim blinked and shook his head, casting light reflections across his bald head. “Yeah, sure.” He stepped back. “I can’t believe it. You really did find them.”

  “I told you.”

  Grunting, Woody pulled himself over the side, landed on the floorboard and eased himself through the door, where he was instantly engulfed in Sarah’s thin arms. Laughing, Woody returned her embrace. Tim patted a greeting on his back.

  As soon as Woody had moved, relief from the insufferable heat poured into the little compartment in the form of freezing temperatures. Ellyssa took in a deep, cool breath. She climbed out and stepped into the chilly air of the garage where Sarah and Tim had hidden them in coffin-like boxes. So much had happened since then; it seemed like ages ago. The garage was the same—boxes and containers stacked against the walls to transport goods and people, the same type that had transported her and Woody. The smoothness with which the Resistance operated still astounded Ellyssa, right under the nose of society.

  The cold penetrated her clothes and inched over her skin, raising goose bumps. After sweating for the last few hours, she didn’t mind. She smiled and was about to greet her hosts, but before she had a chance to say anything, she found herself in the same predicament as Woody had. For someone as small and frail as Sarah, she was incredibly strong. Her arms wrapped around Ellyssa in a vise-like hug.

  Surprised, Ellyssa stood still for a moment, arms dangling uselessly. But Sarah’s warmth and spirit fed Ellyssa with a sense of familiarity she was growing accustomed to. Finally, she hugged the older female.

  Sarah didn’t seem to notice Ellyssa’s hesitation at all. She pulled Ellyssa in for one last squeeze, then stepped away, wiping her hands on her yellow coat. “My, you are all just soaking wet.”

  “Yes,” she said, feeling the warmth seep away. She wrapped her arms around herself. “It is cold.” She turned and grabbed her parka from the sweat box she’d just escaped. It was damp.

  “Tim, we need to go inside,” Sarah said, pulling blankets free from a box. “Here, dear.” She unfolded the blanket, then pulled it around Ellyssa’s shoulders. “This will help until we get you inside the house.” As she spoke, her eyes suddenly lit up, erasing away another ten years. “Rein.”

  Rein held his arms open. “It’s been a while.”

  “At least a year,” Sarah said, muffled in his chest.

  As Rein and Sarah greeted each other, Ellyssa noticed Trista walking toward Tim. The older male looked at her, his brow bunched in questioning wrinkles. Trista gave him a subtle shake of the head.

  Ellyssa wondered what secret message the two exchanged. Going by their worried expressions, whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good. Narrowing her eyes, Ellyssa asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Tim nervously fingered his beard. “Let’s get in the house first.”

  Ellyssa felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Sarah smiling sadly. The older female dropped her hand and reached for Rein and Woody.

  “I’m so sorry for the loss you’ve endured. It was terrible when news reached us, then Trista,” her head lowered, “filled us in on the rest of the gruesome details.”

  “I haven’t had time to tell them everything,” Trista piped up.

  Sarah nodded. “I see. Well, there will be plenty of time for all that. I’m sure you must be starving.”

  Tim approached Rein and gripped his shoulder. “We’re truly sorry, son.”

  “Thank you,” Rein replied, looking away and blinking.

  Tim fidgeted for a moment. “Well, then, I guess we should go in the house.”

  Sarah opened the door. Snow swirled in and freezing wind snuck under the folds of her blanket. Shivering, Ellyssa filed out after the others into the backyard that had been green at her last visit. Browns and gold, with a light powdering of snow, dominated the landscape. The fruit-bearing trees’ bare limbs stretched into a cloudy sky.

  Tim took the lead as they neared the back door. With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated, then turned around. He rubbed his bearded chin. “Do you remember what makes up the Resistance?”

  Both frowning, Rein and Woody nodded.

  “Remember that.” He turned and opened the door to the sunny kitchen.

  As Ellyssa walked inside, a remembrance of hominess and warmth enveloped her. She’d never lived in a real home, and the love and comfort flowed as if alive. Yellow lit the room like sunshine, from the walls to the sunflower tablecloth. Knickknacks littered every open space, and French doors opened into the living room.

  Rein walked in behind and slipped his arm around her shoulder. He looked around, apparently expecting to find something, but the kitchen was empty. “What’s all this about?” he asked Tim.

  “There’s someone you need to meet,” Sarah said, walking toward the living room.

  Rein exchanged a curious look with Woody. “Okay. Someone who defected?”

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Trista’s eyebrows drew together. “You could say that.”

  Someone new? Ellyssa visibly tensed, her soldiering instincts uncoiling. With everything that’d happened, she couldn’t believe everyone else was so calm.

  Rein’s fingers trailed down Ellyssa’s arm, leaving behind tingles, and slipped into her hand. “This is how our society is made. We accept people for who they are, not what they did in the past.”

  “I understand…trust. But with everything that has happened, how can you be certain they are not a spy…or worse?” she questioned.

  “I don’t.” Rein shrugged. “We’ve never known for certain.”

  Woody leaned toward her ear. “You can, though.”

  Ellyssa gave a short nod, but before she had a chance to expand her mind, Trista brushed by, grabbing Woody’s hand.

  “I promise you that he is not some sort of spy,” she interjected.

  With a slight shrug of his shoulders and a reassuring smile, Rein released Ellyssa’s hand and followed.

  As soon as Rein and Woody crossed the threshold, they stopped. A tsunami of angry tension crashed.

 
; Something was wrong. Very wrong. Whoever was in the other room, Rein and Woody definitely recognized him.

  “What is this?” Rein asked through clenched teeth.

  He didn’t wait for an answer as he flew into the room. A crash sounded, followed by a bang.

  Fear squeezed Ellyssa’s heart. “Rein!” She bolted forward, passing Woody and Trista, where she skidded to a stop.

  Rein’s fingers were locked around a male Ellyssa recognized from Detective Petersen’s mind. Muscles bulging beneath his shirt, Rein knocked the captain’s head against the wall. “What the hell,” Rein yelled. Thump. “What. The. Hell.” Thump.

  Captain Dyllon Jones was up on his toes, head bouncing off the wall, sea-blue eyes swollen. The dark-green uniform of the area police he wore was crumpled, the swastika armband ripped. An electroshock weapon hung from his belt, but the captain made no move toward it. Instead, the captain’s hands fluttered around Rein’s wrists, trying to free himself. Red splotched his face as he gasped for air.

  “Rein,” Trista squealed, horrified. She pushed around Ellyssa.

  Woody reached out to stop her, but the blonde ducked under his outstretched hand. She darted to Rein and hit him on the back. “Let him go! Damnit, Rein. Let him go!”

  Rein didn’t even seem to notice Trista. He kept knocking Captain Jones’ head into the wall.

  Thump.

  Woody grabbed hold of Trista and yanked her away.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice high with anger as she tried to pull free. “God damn it, Rein! Stop it!”

  Ellyssa stood mesmerized, unsure. Confused. Surely, Trista hadn’t betrayed them, but there was the male who had accompanied Detective Petersen.

  “Please, Ellyssa, make him stop,” Trista begged from behind her. “I promise, he’s done nothing but help.”

  Certainly Trista wouldn’t lie. It definitely wouldn’t hurt to look since Rein had him under control.

  Thump.

  Ellyssa opened the door to the captain’s thoughts. Fear and confusion circled in his head, vying for dominance. He remembered Rein, remembered Woody, but that was all Ellyssa could read. The emotions were too loud to get a clear scan of his true intentions. She released his thoughts and went to Rein.