Chapter 2

For the remainder of the journey Leader kept his arm around me, allowing me to use him as my emotional crutch. I thanked him in my head again and again for his true kindness.

Instead of focusing on the horrors that lay in pieces behind me, I wondered about what secret Leader could possibly tell me that would make sense of this situation. Did he know that they were after me? When the pair reached Leader’s office, Leader took a key ring out of his pocket and inserted one of the dozens of keys into the door. Inside, was a normal, ordinary dormitory with minimal decoration. I was surprised by how basic Leader’s dormitory was to every other dormitory I had been to. I would have thought that the leader’s room was elaborate, elegant, and spacious, but Leader’s room was the basic gray that all the rooms started as. In every single way, Leader’s dormitory was less unique than the usual living quarters. There was a twin bed, a nightstand, and a wardrobe in the sleeping area, only a couch and a newscaster on a shelf in the living area, and just a food keeper, cooker and table with a chair in the eating area. The only distinctive feature of Leader’s dormitory was the extensive collection of books on the shelf in the living area, and the picture of young Leader and his family in the sleeping area. I observed that in that picture was his mother and what appeared to be his brother and sister in the image. Everyone except the sister in the picture seemed very close. I was curious why no one had ever told me that Leader had siblings. Inside the living area, where most families had some kind of entertainment area, there was a door with many locks. Leader didn’t take out the key ring this time, but instead stuck his hand behind the couch and a secret panel slid off of a digital screen. The screen flashed Leader’s face and it clicked unlocked. Leader showed me inside, smiling kindly at my admiration of the technology. Inside of the secure door was, what was quite obviously, Leader’s office.

Where I thought that the dormitory was lacking in elegance, the office surely made up for it. Nothing too fancy was in the office, there wasn’t a bejeweled chandelier or expensive candelabra, there wasn’t an untouched minibar, or rare knick-knacks on the shelves, but the room was well-lit and had plenty of nice, well cared for things inside. On one side of the room I saw the chair and the emblem of their city Burke engraved in the wall behind it. That was where Leader would do his weekly updates on outer-city matters and where he would also announce the 18th birthdays of all the new adults, and even was thoughtful enough to include the wielders. On the opposite side of the room sat an old desk that was much stronger than any desk that I had ever seen. On top of the desk were piles of folders, no doubt filled with legal paperworks about new rules or regulations the people petitioned for, the inner workings of the government precinct, or most intriguing wielder matters. In front of the desk were two chairs that were probably mainly used for meetings, but looked as though they hadn’t been used in years. On one of the shelves in the same corner as the desk there was a rare picture of Leader in his younger years. It was pocket sized, sitting in a silver metallic frame. Leader was probably in his twenties or thirties and he was laughing with who looked to be the same man from the family photo in his room. It was hard to tell, but I swore that man seemed to be familiar. As I was taking in the rest of the room, Leader motioned for them to sit down together in the two chairs in front of his desk. I sat down and the plush of the seat was immediately soothing to me. I blessed whoever made the chair and was so grateful they had the idea of turning an expensive mattress into a seat.

Leader didn’t know how to open up this conversation since he has never had a conversation as difficult as this was going to be. He let me continue to admire his possessions in his office while he thought of a way to pursue the subject matter lightly.

“How do you like my office?” he asked me.

“It’s very nice,” I responded.

“You like that picture, huh,” Leader noticed me staring at the picture of him and his brother.

“Oh! Uh... yeah,” I laughed awkwardly, “Is that you and your brother?” I asked the question and then remembered my manners, “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry, I-”

“No, no it's alright. Yes, that is my brother and I.”

“I think I might recognize him.”

Leader smiled, happy that I remembered his beloved brother, “Yeah, you probably do. You were around, mmm,” he counted backwards on his fingers, “Six or seven when he left. Do you want to look closer?”

“Sure, I mean, if that’s alright.”

“By all means dear, go ahead.”

I walked around his desk and held up the photo. I took it with me , studying it as I sat back down across from Leader.

“Lead-,” I almost called him by the name that people referred to him, but I didn’t know if that was what he preferred to be called. “Um, I’m sorry, what may I call you sir?”

Leader chuckled warmly, “No need for that ‘sir’ business and don’t apologize, I should have told you back on the education street what you can call me. My name is Booker, though I hope you won’t go spreading that around for the same reason I won’t tell you my last name, you know, confidentiality reasons, I hope you understand that dear.”

“Yes, I do Mr. Booker, I-”

“Just Booker dear.”

I wondered why ‘Booker’ was being so open and trusting with me and why he was okay with me calling him by his first name. It worried me, but I was more curious about who Booker’s brother was.

“Um, Booker,” I tested the waters. It felt wrong, I shouldn’t be saying an adult’s name so casually. But, I remembered, he did ask me to. “You said your brother left, why did he leave?”

Booker exhaled, he blinked at nothing and collected himself before answering slowly, “He is the co-founder of the terrorist group Scarlet Stalkers, or more commonly known as the Others.”

“No! This man is the one who ordered the raid on Burke?” I was disgusted, but more than that in disbelief. The friendly, joyful man that was raised side by side with the kindest person I know could not have founded the most radical, destructive and murderous group in the world. It was impossible.

“No,” Booker said dolefully, “Shae, your parents ordered that attack.”

Something choked me, a terrible, horrifying answer to a question that has been on my mind for my whole life. Deep down I knew my parents were heartless monsters for leaving their seven year old daughter behind and never looking back, but part of me still thought that they would come to regret their decision and come straight back for me. Now that the undenying truth, that unfortunately made perfect sense, was out, it made me furious. I was furious that my parents left me with absolutely nothing to follow a selfish goal of theirs. I was furious that I let myself believe that my parents were just misunderstood and deserved a chance for forgiveness. But most of all, I was furious that my conscience was right after all, my mother and father didn’t give a damn about me, and they were even heartless enough to attack the very city where they knew I lived. It broke some burrowed hope inside of me, a hope I didn’t realize I depended on so much. When all the noise of the anger faded away, I let a single tear run down my cheek.

“Why,” is all I said.

“Why what dear,” Booker asked, “Why did they do it? Well-”

“NO!” I screamed, neglected anger erupting inside me. Booker jumped back, shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me they are Others?” My heart was breaking. My undenying trust in Booker was nearing the end of its rails. He could have told me seven years ago. He could have told me the day he found out. But no, he decided to keep it all to himself. My trust in everything and everyone I knew was toppling in a major earthquake in my soul. My teachers may have known, the nurser could have known. Every damned person who ever crossed my path may have known, but none of them told me. Not a single one. The hurt dug its blade deeper into my heart, but I didn’t shed more than that single tear.

“I thought it would be better if no one knew. I was wrong, I am deeply sorry Shae. If I could go back and change things, I would have raised you myself and have told you the truth ten years ago.” Booker looked over to me but I didn’t show any empathy. “I know you’re mad at me dear Shae, but could you please forgive me?”

My initial anger was fading and I realized that Booker had always looked out for me, even if it was secretly. He had risked his own safety to make sure that I was alright after the raid, he had brought me cookies when nobody attended my thirteenth birthday party. He had even come to watch my primary education graduation. Booker had always been there, even though he was in the background. As betrayed as I felt for him withholding the truth from me, I couldn’t deny his lifelong support for me.

I cracked a pained smile, “I guess.”

He smiled back and to me, his smile meant understanding, it meant I was heard, and it even, in some strange way, love. The feeling that that sympathetic smile gave me was the first time I felt truly loved. It brought another tear to my eye.

Booker laughed back at me, “Don’t cry dear, it's all going to be alright.” He held his hands out for me and I gingerly took them. He secured his fingers over the backs of my hands. “Now when your parents left you, they made me promise something. They made me promise that I wouldn’t tell you until they came back for you to tell you themselves. Shae, today, they, um, they tried to take you back by stealing you from me.”

The raid made sense now. The three words that the monotone grunt said to its counterparts made sense now. The happenings of the day all made sense now. Booker seemed to catch the fear that enveloped on my face.

“Look at me Shae, look at me. I’m not going to let them kidnap you, alright? It's not going to happen. As much as I used to respect your parents I’m going to break my promise to them and I’ll protect you to the best of my ability, okay?”

I nodded, not understanding what he was insinuating, but appreciating the caring words.

“Shae, um, oh my goodness how do I say this? Uh.”

I breathed in a shaky breath, trying to prepare myself for whatever Booker would tell me.

Booker breathed in as well, blinked several times towards the ground, gripped my hands a little tighter, and looked me benevolently in my eyes. “Shae,” he said, “you’re a wielder.”

“What? No I’m not! I’m pretty sure I would know if I was,” I spat out in disgusted disbelief, “I can’t be a wielder, they are dangerous and violent and I’m neither!”

Booker shook his head and corrected me, “Firstly, most wielders aren’t actually threats to society, that’s just in the stories about the rare outliers. And secondly, you probably never could tell, yes, but it is true, you are a wielder. You have an asset. It's kind of like how someone who was born blind never could know what color is. You don’t know what life is like without your asset.”

I did not believe a word that was coming out of Booker’s mouth. Me, Shae, could not be a wielder. Wielders were to be feared. Wielders are dangerous and merciless. Their only honorable purpose is being the military in society, but even though they are supposed to protect you, it doesn’t mean that they are worth your trust. Wielders were seen as inferior in Burke’s society. Even young kids in my early education classes would mock wielders for just walking down the hallway. “One of them had a limp,” one kid said as he hopped around the room, “It walked really stupid.”. Wielders are sent to the top level of the city, above even the police and government complexes in order to keep them under control. They are only allowed downstairs with specific permission from one of the officers, and those occasions were usually a weekly family dinner, and even then, they would arrive and leave when most people were inside their dormitories. Seeing a wielder, or weirder as many kids in my year would call them was extremely rare. For me, the first time I saw wielders with my own eyes was today, the female, male, and their counterpart.

“But what about the three wielders in the hallway, they were merciless! And the guy, he was coming over to finish me off!” I insisted, refusing to believe anything good of the wielders.

“No Shae dear, he wasn’t. He was coming over to make sure you were unharmed. That’s their duty; protect and defend the people. He saw me coming and allowed me to take care of you instead.”

“But, but, I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t. The popular belief is that all wielders are as bad as Gamma, Claw, or Elite, but in reality, they are just normal kids with special talents. The only reason they are in the military and not in classes with the rest of you kids is because, well for one, you all will make fun of them, and nobody wants to deal with the mess of wielders defending themselves against non-wielders, but the real reason is because they enhance our team and allow us to go on secret reconnaissance missions on threats to Burke or sending them outside the walls to deal with said threats. Hell, the reason why you’re still in Burke at this moment is because those three stepped in to save you. Imagine what would’ve happened if they chose not to.”

“You mean you didn’t order them to save me?”

“No. I ordered them to get the Scarlet Stalkers out of Burke as quickly as humanly possible, but thanks to that guy and his squadmates, you are still here right now. I owe those kids a huge thank you because I don’t know what I would have done with myself if I let those psychopaths take you.”

“Oh.” I thought for a long moment. How wrong I was to assume that boy’s intentions. Without my deflective ‘wielders are all evil’ argument, I didn’t have any reason to restrict myself from the seeming impossibility of being a wielder, but even identifying as one in my thoughts seemed like a mistake.

“How can you tell that I’m a… a... well… that I’m a wielder?” I inquired.

“Your parents told me before they left,” Booker informed me.

“But how did they know?”

“You showed exemplary abilities from an extremely young age to track and locate things,” Booker told me, “Your parents and I believe that you do so based on vibrations in the ground. It's kind of like a sixth sense. I don’t know the full extent of your capabilities because assets sometimes look one way but are truly another. For example, someone could think that they can see through walls, but what they are really doing is seeing through another persons’ or creatures’ eyes. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess so, a little, but how can you be sure?”

“Throughout your life, people have reported you being able to see things or magically know about hidden things when others didn’t even know themselves. For example, today you could hear raiders walking from two hallways down! There is no way a person like me could hear footsteps coming two hallways away. What I think happened is that you could hear the vibrations of the impact the feet made with the ground through the floor and that's how you knew they were coming for you.”

“But, how did you know that happened? Are you a wielder too?”

“No, no, no dear, I just have a wicked good security team. They always tell me what’s going on when I’m outside my office here. That’s how I got to you so quickly,” he explained, “They saw you turn the corner and sprint away half a minute before any other person would have even suspected them coming”

“They seemed so much closer though,” I thought aloud. I contemplated what Booker said about my ‘sixth sense’. Multiple instances where I could hear or locate things that others couldn’t rang fresh in my memories. One time, I was at my yearmate’s birthday party, and I could tell that the gift that my friend was receiving from her parents had a puppy in it because I could hear it panting through the metal crate, cardboard, and wrapping paper in my friend’s parents’ sleeping area. When my friend opened the gift I was shocked at how surprised all of the other kids were because it was so obvious to me that there was a puppy in the gift. Another time, I remember being the queen at hide and seek. I was so good in fact, that I was never found and always found all of my playmates within three minutes. They all accused me of peeking through my fingers and never wanted to play with me again. I didn’t understand why they were so bad at the game because all you had to do was track the footsteps and breathing of each player. Now I understood why I’d always get weird looks when I mentioned what I thought to be the obvious.

“Huh, I guess I do have a sixth sense,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” laughed Booker, “you kinda do.”

“But I don’t think I have an asset, as you call it, I’ve gotten by just as a normal kid my whole life.”

“Not your whole life.”

“Okay sure, there were a few times where I might have dropped hints that I’m different, but every other moment of my life I was normal.”

“Shae, all wielders are normal kids. The only reason we separate them is because we want them to grow in an environment where they can experiment with and grow their assets. Other than the asset part, that doesn’t make them any different than any other kid.”

“Alright, but why wasn’t I brought up to the top floor when I was twelve like all the other wielders.”

“Your parents didn’t want you knowing.”

His answer made sense to me, but there was still one part of the puzzle of my childhood that needed completing, “Booker, if my parents knew about my asset-thing, why did they leave me only to come back to tell me ten years later, it doesn’t make any sense.”

Booker exhaled thoroughly. This, I could tell, was going to be a harder conversation to have. It didn’t seem possible that the topic at hand could get even more complex, but apparently I was wrong again for the millionth time tonight.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” I said.

“Oh I know you can, it's just despicable and cruel and it's hard to comprehend that the people who are willing to and have done this are the same people I used to spend time with on my lunch breaks.”

I nodded my head in solemn understanding, “It’s hard to know that these people are my parents.”

“I know,” Booker said, “You deserve much better Shae, and I mean that. Like I said before if I could change things for you I would.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course dear,” Booker smiled fondly, then he sighed, “Alright, on with the story.”

I sat up, sharp and attentive, forcing myself to be ready for the tale of whatever inhuman thing my parents plan to do with me.

“When your parents found out about your ability to locate things they buried underground, a door opened for them. They had heard a legend about a stone that could make people indestructible if they touched it, the only problem was, nobody knew where it was since it's been buried for hundreds of years. After they realized that with enough practice, you could potentially find and unearth this stone, your mother convinced your father to leave you with me until they had the correct preparations for the day when they were ready to use the stone.”

“But why do they want it?”

“I personally believe that your mother is power-hungry and dragged your father, my brother, and some of her other friends with her in a desperate attempt to ‘correct wrongs’. I didn’t realize that they meant the wrongs with humanity until after I agreed to watch over you.”

“But didn’t you try to stop them?”

“Yes I did. Nine years ago, I could send a wielder reconnaissance team or two in to spy and report information about the group to me, but as time went on, they became more and more guarded. I won’t send a team in without a good reason now because the likelihood of them coming back alive is extremely slim.”

“Oh wow,” my brain was being loaded with so much information that none of it seemed real. I am in one hell of a hallucination. I was fixated on the floor, lost in thought. Why would my parents do this? In the blurry, distorted memories I had of them, I remembered nothing but good things. It was hard enough to believe that they left me when I was seven, but now it's even harder to believe that they were planning on using me for their own personal gain since I was a toddler.

“Are you overwhelmed dear?” Booker asked.

I nodded, still focusing on Booker’s office floor.

“Alright then, I’ll let you sleep on these thoughts and we can talk again in the morning.” Booker walked me out of his office and down the hallway.

Both Booker and I enjoyed the serene quiet of the hallways and streets we went down. He walked me back to my shared dormitory while I hacked at my brain to make sense of the past day.

On the way, Booker’s gaze paused on a clock. 22:47, its dark screen read. Somehow the conversation with me lasted four hours. It was already dark in the world outside of the protective metal barriers. It comforted Booker that his people were protected from the terrors outside of the walls of Burke by the motherly embrace the walls gave the life inside its arms, but he was unnerved by how easily the Scarlet Stalkers were able to bypass the complex security to get inside. Booker wondered if there were things going on inside his city that he didn’t know about, but he drove the unsettling thought from his mind, and instead focused on Shae. She must be so scared and so confused. He felt for her and promised himself that he would never let anybody or anything hostile ever touch her again. He is going to right what he did wrong. Booker decided to look after her more profusely than he ever had before. In the new reality of her being in danger all the time, Booker determined that the best place for her was on the thirty-sixth floor with the rest of the wielders. As she walked through the door to her living quarters, closing the door behind her, he dreaded telling her that she’s moving to a place that she’s tried to avoid her whole life. He dreaded the look on her face when she realized that her old life will be over. But most of all, Booker dreaded breaking her heart a second time.