J. Spelbring: Perfection

His mouth felt like a desert, tongue swollen, lips dried and cracked. The cool of the tiled floor felt great against the side of his face. Despite his fevered state, chills swept through him. With every shiver, his muscles shrieked.

The only parts of him that didn’t hurt were his arms. The deadened limbs were still tied behind his back, and he was lying on them. He carefully rolled over to one side. Blood rushed into his numb arms, sending needles that stabbed from within.

Unimaginably unbearable.

Rein mewed pitifully, as tears welled in his eyes.

Ellyssa had told him what her sister could do, but she’d said nothing about the actual power the little girl wielded. He’d never felt anything as intense as the sense of being disemboweled and coals burning in his stomach.

Not once had she touched him.

Not once.

Aalexis had crawled inside his head, pulling and tugging, making him experience pain that wasn’t really there.

Even worse, Rein had almost betrayed his family. The treachery had formed on his lips more than once during his torture.

He hadn’t divulged their location, though.

He’d been too busy screaming.

Light stormed into the room, its shards stabbing Rein’s eyes. He slammed his lids shut. When he finally peeked from beneath his lashes, two figures stood silhouetted against the brightness, distorted by the shine curving around the edges of his vision. One was tall and broad, the other small and thin. Foreign words were exchanged between them as they stepped toward him.

Rein screamed.

Ellyssa felt better than she had for the last few days. She was clean, she was fed, and she was going to get Rein.

Hopefully, he was still alive. Hope—just like the characters had in Of Mice and Men , and that story ended with death. Despair reared its ugly head. She shoved it back down.

Ellyssa glanced at Woody, who kept turning the bomb over in his hands while he studied it. As Woody’s nervous fingers fumbled with the wiring, the strain of worry crumpled his face. Ellyssa wondered if his unease was because of Rein, or because he held enough explosives to blast the house off the map.

“Once we are inside, we report to Maintenance. They will assign us floors, and we go to work. That simple.” Ellyssa patted his shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”

Woody’s eyes met Ellyssa’s, his grey mixing with her sky-blue, like the heavens were brewing up a storm.

“Ellyssa, I want to tell you something.” Woody hesitated, and he looked away.

“Go ahead,” she urged.

Woody leaned over, face intense. “Before we do this, I want you to know how much I care for you.” He gazed at her pointedly, brows arched, as if this sudden revelation was supposed to enlighten her. Nothing extraordinary happened.

Confused, Ellyssa scrutinized him. He kept staring at her, encouraging her to find the answer. Denying herself the easiest route to explanation, she said, “I care for you, too.”

Sighing, the corner of his mouth drawn back in frustration. Those signs were easy for her to read.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Woody said, sharp and irritated. The same tone he had used when she’d first met him.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Then, tell me what you do mean.”

Woody opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Leland bounded down the steps. Looking back down at the explosives, Woody started to fumble with the wiring again.

Leland stopped at the foot of the stairs, his head turning from Woody to Ellyssa. “Did I interrupt something?”

Ellyssa gave Woody a hard look. “No. I was explaining how to set the timer.”

“Oh.” He sounded relieved. “It’s rather easy. Just like a kitchen timer.”

“Haven’t really used one of those,” Woody said. He set the bomb down with the others on the table. “But it seems relatively simple.”

Leland smiled. “Of course,” he said, setting the bag on the ground. “I have some stuff for you.” He pulled out a yellow wig, the color of sunflowers, and a small white container. He held the container out to Ellyssa. “You should find this interesting.”

“What is it?” she asked, taking it.

“Open it.”

Ellyssa unscrewed the lid. A flimsy lens floated in liquid. Although she’d never seen a contact lens before, poor eyesight being a thing of the past, she knew what they were. “Where did you get these?”

“Actually, I don’t even know. I request the item, and a day later, I have it. The Resistance is a lot bigger than you think. Bigger than what I even know.” Apparently pleased with himself, he smiled. “These don’t improve your eyesight. They change your eye color. Once we are done, no one will recognize you.”

“What about me?” asked Woody.

“I have a pair for you,” Leland answered, pulling out another container. “Your hair will be fine, especially for a job like the maintenance crew.”

Woody’s face reddened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your hair color makes you acceptable for that type of work,” Leland said matter-of-factly, blind to how the words affected Woody.

Ellyssa squeezed Woody’s hand. “It’s how society runs,” she reminded him.

Leland reached back into his bag of tricks, like the mythical Santa Claus Ellyssa had read about, and withdrew two orange jumpsuits. He handed one to Ellyssa and one to Woody. “And you’ll need these.” From his pocket, he produced two badges, each with a barcode on one side and a magstripe on the other.

Ellyssa was taken aback. “How did you get these?” she asked, reading the name ‘Amanda Keller’.

“I made them,” he answered, as if creating fake identifications was something he did every day. “I learned more than one thing in all my years of service.” He wagged his eyebrows and handed Woody his.

“Impressive.”

“Very,” agreed Woody. He showed Ellyssa his badge. ‘Carl Mueller’ was printed above the bar code.

“We’re all set, then. Shift change,” Leland checked his watch, “in seven hours. You’ll be working nights. Easier to avoid personnel.”

“What about pictures?”

“As soon as you don your new looks, I’ll take care of them.” Leland touched Ellyssa’s upper arm lightly. It was the first time he’d ever tried such a gesture of friendship. “I promise, by the time you get to work, you’ll be in the system.”

The fall evening was much cooler than when she’d left The Center weeks ago. Crisp air blew from Lake Michigan, and Ellyssa pulled the collar of the long jacket tighter around her neck.

She blended in easily with the sea of blonds wearing orange jumpsuits under coats. Smiles plastered on their faces, they strolled to their respective jobs. Just another night of fulfilling their duties.

With Woody a few paces behind, she passed the white sign with bold, black letters— Center for Genetic Research & Eugenics —and through the gate.

The Center loomed ahead, reminding her of Frankenstein’s castle. She’d never thought she’d see her old home again, much less go inside, yet here she was. Her heart thumped, like a rising crescendo.

Anxiety. She’d left The Center fully feeling that sensation, and now, she returned with it.

Before the emotion could fully grip her, causing beads of sweat on her forehead—a sure sign in the cool temperatures that something was amiss—she concentrated on blocking the unproductive emotion. She had to keep calm.

For Woody’s sake.

For Rein’s.

At the thought of Woody, she peered over her shoulder. He walked behind her, head held high, gait strong and sure. The nervousness and uncertainty he’d displayed earlier in the day were gone.