J. Spelbring: Perfection

Adrenaline surged, and a metallic taste flooded Ellyssa’s mouth. She embraced the extra boost and plowed forward, bursting through the tree line and into an area thick with bushes, ferns, and tall trunks of various shades from greys to browns to rusted colors.

Safely hidden within nature’s cover, she kept her strides long and quick. She angled left and ran parallel to the tree line. For a moment, she wondered why she chose that direction, but her speculations eased as an intense stitch in her side caused her sprint to dwindle to a light jog and finally into a fast-paced walk.

Huffing, Ellyssa stopped and stooped, hands on knees. The stitch was bad, but the threat of her overly taxed muscles seizing up was worse. She let her hands fall between her feet and stretched before she made her way back to the edge of the farmland.

From between two hickory trees, with limbs stretching over into a latticework of twigs and leaves, she peered out across the rolling field. The town was completely hidden, lying behind a canopy, except for one building with a steeple shooting free from the greenery.

She wished her gift could extend to the train station to snatch the thoughts of her pursuers. Had they searched the train? Did they know she had jumped? Were they organizing a search party?

Even though she couldn’t predict their exact plans, she knew they’d eventually resort to using dogs. She turned and disappeared into the foliage, looking for trees to help hide her scent.

Depleted of the adrenaline rush and the sweet numb of endorphins, Ellyssa’s muscles and bruised flesh moaned under her sweat-sodden clothes. Her thigh sang a song of pain beneath the crimson-colored rip running along the seam of the jumpsuit. She gingerly poked the threadbare fabric and hissed.

Ellyssa sat on a fallen log and extended her leg in front of her. The jagged tear ran from mid-thigh to her knee. Raw pink meat showed between the edges of the frayed material. She tried to pull the fabric free from the wound, but blood stuck the material to the tender flesh. She gave up and retrieved scissors from her bag, along with one of her two bottles of water.

She’d broken two of the most important rules of her training. The first was, always come prepared for anything. But she hadn’t had the time after all the secrets she’d found. Her priority had been erasing her identity from the mainframe then disappearing.

The second rule was to never underestimate the intelligence of the enemy.

The thought surprised her. Was that how she thought of her father now? Ellyssa shook her head. Just over twenty-four hours ago, she’d been an unknowing participant in her father’s plan, doing as he instructed, trying to please him, although she could never show that. Now, she was running from him.

Her heart ached, and Ellyssa let the feeling consume her while fishing out a tube of antiseptic, her only preparation for injury. Now was not the best time to entertain the feeling; she knew that. But she’d missed out on so much being locked away at The Center, away from all the inferior citizens. Being allowed to show emotions was just the tip.

Ellyssa’s father had spent years structuring a program to rid his experiments of feelings. She was his unknown failure. Since the age of three, she’d bottled up everything she’d felt and worn an impassive mask. Although she didn’t realize it at the time, her ability to deceive had saved her.

After the run-in with the dark-haired man, she’d accessed her father’s files and discovered what happened to subjects who’d failed to assimilate, along with finding her father’s secret agenda. The most basic instinct, the first lesson drilled into her, was the instinct to survive. After reading her father’s files, hers went into overdrive.

The betterment of mankind . Ellyssa scoffed.

Her father was the very enemy he’d warned her and her siblings about.

A foreign smile slipped across her face as she snipped away the leg of her coveralls above the knee. Breathing in, she yanked the fabric free. Fresh blood pooled in the gash before flowing over and trickling down the sides of her thigh. She poured water over the wound and cleared away as much of the dirt and pebbles as she could. The cut was ugly, and more pebbles were embedded in the flesh, but the wound wasn’t disabling. She picked out the remaining debris, then swabbed on the pasty antiseptic cream. Using the pants leg as a makeshift bandage, she bound the wound.

After wetting her mouth, she gathered her items and shoved everything back into the bag. With great care, she stood, focusing most of her weight on her left leg before testing her right. Her thigh throbbed, but it was nothing that could hinder her.

Slightly limping, Ellyssa continued the search for a suitable tree to climb. She found the perfect launching spot thirty meters deeper into the forest. An old oak with a broad trunk and thick limbs stood next to a giant walnut, the limbs crossing over each other in a desperate attempt to hog the sunlight.

She pulled out leather gloves and slipped them over her fingers. Securing the bag to her side, she walked around the tree until she found a low-hanging branch. She squatted, hissed, and jumped; her fingers brushed the underside of the limb. A tidal wave of pain shot up her leg when she landed. She cried out and hobbled around in a circle, massaging the side of her leg until the worst of the throbbing settled into a soft pulsing.

She readjusted herself under the branch. Forcing the pain into the back of her mind, she hunkered down, swinging her arms in a wide pendulum motion, and leapt. She grasped the branch and, in one smooth motion, swung her left leg over and pulled herself up. There, she rested, short pants bursting from between her lips.

Moving from tree to tree would delay her pursuers, but not for long. Her tricks would be easily spotted. The more distance she put between herself and her would-be captors, the better her chances.

She forced herself up on the thick branch. Dangerously teetering, she grabbed low-hanging limbs to aid her balance. Like a squirrel, she moved from one tree to the next, keeping a rather twisted, southeast course until a break in the towering lumber forced her back to the ground, where she took up a slow-paced jog.

As the afternoon waned and the shadows grew longer, Ellyssa’s jog changed to a trudge. Weariness pulled on every fiber of her being as she limped and stumbled and emptied one of her water bottles faster than she would have liked.

As darkness fell and blanketed the woods, Ellyssa paused with thoughts of stopping teasing the threads of her exhausted mind until the sound of gurgling and buzzing insects floating on the air captured her attention.

Water .

Although, she knew she couldn’t drink the flowing water without the proper sanitization pill—a bit of information stored in her brain from field training exercises—her mouth still watered like Pavlov’s dog. The water could be used for other things.

Ellyssa crunched over greenery and broke into a small clearing. Early twilight filtered through sparse clouds, tall grass shifted silently in a soft breeze, and silver moonlight reflected off a shallow stream that babbled over moss-covered rocks.

She tottered to the stream and dropped to her knees. She scooped up the cool liquid and splashed it on her face, washing away the dried sweat and dirt. It felt cool and refreshing on her bruised skin.

Temptation to pull the cool liquid between her lips overwhelmed her. The untreated water stopped her. She splashed more on her face, then rose on her aching feet.

Sloshing through the water, Ellyssa took to the middle of the stream, her legs feeling like weights were tied to her ankles. The more distance the better , played through her thoughts, keeping her going. Sleep would be a sweet blessing better enjoyed at a later time.