Sherry Ficklin - Extracted

Anya doesn’t even blink. “I’m here for my brother.” Her face is stern. There is something different about her. Something hard and unfriendly. For the first time I wonder if my sister is telling the truth.

For a minute, I’m torn. I want to believe my sister, but what if I’m wrong? What if, by letting her in, I put my team in danger? Maybe she’s been brainwashed. Maybe, or maybe she was sent here to spy on us—or worse.

She must be able to read the doubt on my face because she frowns. Her dark eyebrows pull together as she clamps her mouth shut so tightly the muscles in her jaw twitch.

I step forward so Anya and I are eye-to-eye. She holds my gaze, unflinching. After a moment of silence she reaches out and tugs the lapel of my vest, straightening it like she used to when I was a boy. I catch her hands in mine and she freezes. Her skin is cool and her hands are shaky.

“I would never hurt you,” she whispers in Russian.

“I know,” I respond in kind.

Bruce and Slap Stick consult Gloves in low voices, with their backs to the group. Finally, they turn around and Bruce pulls a key from his front pocket.

“Okay,” he says. Unlocking the manacles, he adds, “If Lex trusts you, well, that’s good enough for us. But no funny business.”

“No promises,” she mutters, rubbing her wrists.

I sneak a glance at Anya—no, Ember, I remind myself. Her nose is slightly wrinkled. Maybe it’s just the smell. Or maybe it’s a judgment on our surroundings. I feel a pang of anger blossom in my chest. This place isn’t much, but it is my home.

Gloves guides us to a couch in the opposite corner of the room. The velvet wall dressings are peeling away. I hit a few of the pieces while we walk, making them fall to the floor like crimson snowflakes. Everyone sits on the worn, tattered furniture and awkwardly stares at each other. I remain standing. We’re all waiting for someone else to start the conversation.

When I can’t take the staring contest anymore, I lean forward and rest my hands on the back of the sofa. My head is reeling. My sister is sitting in front of me alive and well. Flesh and blood. Safe. Away from Tesla. Relief bleeds into my system, but my questions remain. After circling the couch, I squat at her feet.

I look up, staring into her warm brown eyes, and open my mouth to say something. But the words catch in my throat as Ember lunges forward, grabbing me and giving me the hug I never thought I’d have again. We hold each other for a long time. She smells the same as I remember, like warm honey and fresh cream. Finally she pulls away and just looks at me, tracing my scar with the back of her index finger. A small tear rolls down her face, carving a clean pink line down her dirt-covered cheek. I’m sure I seem different to her. I’m not the little boy she remembers—I’ve become something more. More than the little brother who followed her around, begging to play swords. I am the leader our father groomed me to be, though not in the way he imagined. I am one of the Hollows, and proud of it.

I can almost read the disapproval in her face.

“What happened to your leg?” Ember asks softly.

I don’t answer, countering with a question of my own.

“Why did you come here, exactly?” I pull back and fold my arms across my chest. I have to maintain my credibility as a leader, though I wish I could just sit and talk to my sister all night without these strangers and their cold eyes.

“I came here to find you,” Ember says, as if the answer is obvious. “The memories of the fire are still hazy, but they are coming back to me in pieces. I remember the roof collapsing. I remember being dragged away. I think I remember seeing him there, too.” She points to Gloves, who is sitting near the couch in his locomotive chair. “Mostly, I just want us to be a family again. I would have come sooner, but something happened and I couldn’t remember anything until that day you broke into The Institute. Seeing you there, it sort of broke the dam.” She looks away.

“You could have come with us when we left the vault,” I say.

She shakes her head, strands of hair falling around her face. “I couldn’t. I needed answers.” She looks back up at me. “Why did you break into the Institute? Did you come to find me?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t remember you, either. Nothing. It was all blank. Then I saw you and it came rushing back to me.” I take her hand again. “If I’d known Tesla had you—that you even existed—nothing would have stopped me from finding you.”

“Flynn,” she cuts in. “Flynn saved me from the fire. He brought me to the Institute.”

“One of our Hollows died during a mission a few days ago. She was my friend, more than a friend. When I heard there might be a piece of tech in the Institute that would allow me to go back and save her, I had to go for it.” Ember sits back, silent, so I continue. “Her name is Stein. I know getting her back could create a huge paradox, so I need something to hold the paradox and the stream together. With the Dox, I can save her.”

“The Dox is one of the untested theories we learned about in training,” Ember says. “Tesla created it, but he never tested it. It was considered too dangerous to use. If it overloads, it could blow a hole in the universe. I mean, it could create a black hole in time itself.”

I shrug. “It’ll work,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

“Can I see it?”

“Sure, I guess.” I hesitate. Nobel shoots me a look and I can practically read his mind. Just because I trust her doesn’t mean they do. She’s a stranger at best and an enemy at worst. The look on Nobel’s face tells me he doesn’t want her anywhere near the Dox. Still, I nod to him, and he reluctantly leaves the room to retrieve it from his lab. The best way to get the others to trust her is going to be to let her earn it.

Nobel reappears a few, tense minutes later with the Dox in hand. It has a clear glass outer shell with an intricate brass machine inside that reminds me of a huge lightbulb. There are gears and spokes and coils of wire surrounding a main terminal. Small, fragile wires reach out from the center of the machine like veins, and brush the insides of the glass. When Nobel hands it to me, the coils begin to glow a subtle shade of purple.

“That’s weird,” Nobel says.

“Yeah.” I hold it away from my body. Suddenly it feels less like a lightbulb and more like a ticking bomb. Literally.

“Maybe you activated it,” Ember says, holding out her hands for it.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say, passing it to Ember. As soon as I’m no longer touching it, the light fades. Around us, everyone looks tense. Everyone, I notice, except for Gloves.

“Guess it doesn’t like me,” Ember jokes. “I didn’t even know the Institute had a working prototype.”

She hands it back to me and I pass it back to Nobel. Ember stares at me, and then glances nervously at the others, who look visibly relieved she didn’t spike it and do a touchdown dance.

“Here, why don’t I show you around?” I offer. Bruce coughs but I ignore him, helping Ember to her feet.

“I’m not a spy, you know. My friends risked everything to get me here,” she says, looking away. “I hope they are okay.” Her voice is almost too soft to hear. I grind my teeth.

Friends. With the enemy. My eye twitches at the thought but I don’t say anything. She runs her hand along the walls, flaking paint off beneath her fingers.

“Alexei—sorry, Lex—can I ask you a question?” she says.

“You just did, but sure.”

She pulls me to a stop. “Are you happy here?”

“Yes,” I answer quickly. She gives me a look. “I mean, yeah. It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“How long have you been here?” she asks as we continue walking.