Chapter 12

Corrin

“Wait!” I halt outside the entrance and turn to Sevina, plodding down the stairs. “I’ll help.” She stops a few stairs up.

“Thank you.” My insides fill with ease. I’m not the only one this crazy to do it.

She steps a stair lower. “So we’re clear you won’t abandon me if we run into trouble? Which we definitely will.”

Exuberant, I shake my head. “Never.”

“Okay, I guess, it works.” Her wolf eyes dart around my face. I would find it funny in a more casual situation.

I extend my hand. “It’s a deal then.”

Sevina looks at it and delicately squeezes the end of my fingers. “Deal.”

Back at her apartment I lean against the wall with my shoulder and watch her pace about, packing.

Despite the constant knot of guilt in my throat, I was ready to convince her till my last breath to make her come with me, manipulate her into believing she’s strong. All so I could use her powers to assist me. It’s not until she refused I understood that, no matter how terrified I am, I’m incapable of pressuring and playing her.

But never in my life I imagined her changing her mind, leaving her life as she knows it and accepting a crusade like this. She must be desperate.

She stuffs clothing into her backpack and takes hidden money from within the pantry that, I suppose, she had saved in case. She moves tardily, her hands stiff as if contemplating the happening. From what I gather her life was never about the streets, or stress. She ran from them. She can’t fight or shoot, not when she’s not high on someone’s life as far as I understood.

But running away to face the challenges of the crime world which I myself haven’t been able to do— eyes or not, it takes courage and I respect her for it. I only hope her decision isn’t based on a heat of the moment and she knows what she’s getting into. Her eyes is a force capable of reaching mysteries behind concrete walls and iron doors. If I want her to meet Dan, to meet my father, it is my duty to safeguard her.

“That girl’s up for a disappointed.” Sevina halts at her desk.

“What girl?”

“The one foster care is sending in to live with me. I didn’t tell?”

“No. You have to tell me things, remember?”

“Right.” She looks at the table where I left the gun. It lays at a different angle. Did she touch it?

“Take the barrel,” she says.

“You take the barrel… the gun.” I’m not positive if I’m offering it since she’s weaker or because I’m apprehensive about handling it myself. Reluctantly, we both eye it.

“Leave it?” she says.

“Leave it?” I bug. “We can’t leave a gun with bullets. It’s useful.”

“I’m not carrying it.” She pivots, walking away. I sigh and grab the gun. I tuck it into the waistband of my pants under the shirts and catch up to her near the elevator, then take the stairs.

“Have you ever explored the streets?” I ask as we make our way through the crowded walkway.

“Yes, never lived there though,” she answers and changes the subject before I inquire about the details. “We’re going to that area, what it’s called?”

I round a few people in my way. “Safety blocks. This guy, Terrel. He should help us out. He said he needed people like us.”

“If he won’t put us down.” What aggravates me more than Terrel is that she remembers my adventures with him.

“I thought it fades like a dream,” I murmur.

“It does. But emotionally charged situations are easier to remember or memorize before I forget them.” Her words all but blend with the din of the street and her hands clutch the straps of her backpack. I’m not the only one uncomfortable.

Dry gassy air scorches into my lungs and a familiar hustle and bustle of the street comforts my head as my feet step past the alleys and pathways, ready to defend me with their lush cover of wires, dumpsters, and back generators. Shops I can steal from and benches to rest on— all outside. It’s not until I spent a night in Sevina’s purple box that I understood how austere my claustrophobia became. Dull images of my father formed on the walls and muffled screams slithered into my ears. I felt trapped, which I was. Then, as if it couldn’t get any worse, I petrified Sevina by throwing her to the ground, at least I didn’t hit her like I did one of the construction workers.

“You should stay out of the Safety blocks until I find Terrel,” I suggest.

She keeps walking. “No. We’re together in this.”

“There’re some dangerous people out there. It wouldn’t be wise until I can lead you straight to the hideout.”

She tightens her lips in thought. “No.”

I stop by a turn into an alley and she halts nearby. “Then you’re keeping the gun.”

“Fine, but you’ll show me how to shoot. Sometime.”

We slink behind the dumpster in the alley. “How about seeing it? You saw lots of people shoot, didn’t you?”

As I take out the weapon she slides her backpack of her shoulders. “Yes, but as I said, the abilities and the whole life in detail last for twenty minutes or so. Theoretically, I could do it. Otherwise, I have to learn it for myself. My real self.” She unzips her backpack.

“The gun goes behind your back, not the backpack.” She takes it stiffly into her small by comparison hands, checks the safety before stuffing it into the pants waistband and hiding it under her sweatshirt. “All right, and put on the hood.” A soft shade falls on her face when she puts on the hood, masking some of her features.

“Do you remember the underground way to the hideout?” Sevina asks when we turn back into the street.

“I’ll try.”

She walks slower than me, her chin hung low, and it takes us forever to arrive to the Blocks. We pass the spot where I cried my eyes out and where Terrel found me. I don’t know if she remembers it, but I ignore it as if it’s not the same one. I keep to the wider streets that lead deeper into the blocks. It’s daytime and few homeless pay attention to us as we cross the border. There aren’t many of them either, scattered into the Coats to beg for money, I suppose, before becoming viler at night.

A couple malicious looks follow Sevina and for a second she grasps my sleeve. She stands out. Even if brave she remains an easy prey unless she looks people in the eyes. I don’t know how, but I can tell she’s a first-timer. Maybe it’s her clothing, too clean, or the uncertain steps she takes, or a thief’s sense I developed when picking a victim. If she were alone on the street she’d be right on top of my victim list.

As we thread deeper into the blocks street noise dulls in the shadows of the rising buildings, structures not as impressive as the sky-scrapers in central Havason, but still reaching above thirty stories each. The area is empty of people, but with enough widening and closing alleys, nooks and passages to escape should the assailant chase you. Finished the place would’ve been opulent, but it decays for near thirty years, abandoned and decrepit.

“Why don’t they clean it up?” Sevina keeps close to me as a homeless man crosses our path, wheeling his cart with belongings.

“No idea, someone must be keeping the cops and governmental people away.”

“Guessing the gangs are here for the mob, can it be the mob keeps the gangs safe?” Sevina speculates.

“Might be. Or it’s a leftover slum area like every city has.” I stop at the intersection of the alleys. “It was here somewhere.” I describe it to Sevina. “Couldn’t you look again?” I wander back and forth where I think the entrance was.

“I don’t see what you don’t know,” she says, her words crisp.

I stroll around, lifting a couple identical panels off the walls at random places. “What if you looked longer?”

“I won’t.” She does the same.

“How about the distance? From how far does it work?”

She lets out a sharp sigh. “I don’t know.”

An idea I considered before but forgot surfaces in my head. “Are you… a droid?” I look at her when I ask.

She shivers as if the thought was hurting her. “No, I’m human.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they checked me.”

“What if—”

“Stop asking.”

I silence myself. I can’t help but wonder what secret governmental experiment has landed her here. Yet no matter who she is her abilities is a blessing, enormous help on my way to redemption. Returning to back into my family and preventing murders— is the only way I will ever soften my iniquities.

I find a panel shielding the door and we sneak below into the darkness. Sevina turns on the flashlight on her cellphone. “Which way?”

I gulp, the walls at my sides not aiding me to remember the path I took two months ago.

“Forward.” I walk ahead. “Are you certain you don’t remember?”

“Do you remember each detail of your dreams after a day?”

“If I write them down, I might.” A silent moment follows whilst she undoubtedly rolls her eyes. At least I’m focused on talking. “I don’t, all right,” I surrender. “Do you remember your dreams?”

“I don’t dream.”

I halt for a second. “You don’t? How can you tell it fades like a dream?”

She hesitates, then her voice rings irked and hasty. “From the lives of others. I’m done talking about it. Do not ask.”

“It would be better for us to know what we’re dealing with. Since we’re partners and—”

“Corrin.”

Corrin. It’s been long since I heard my name.

“I’m just saying.”

“We’re no partners. We… have a somewhat mutual goal.”

“Which makes us partners.”

Even if loaded with friction I want to keep the conversation flowing as her voice soothes the dread, but her resentful growl leaves me clinging to the stomping of our feet and jerking of the light. I latch onto something else. Her accent. It is not distinct but I could spot the difference ever since we started actually talking; the unfluctuating way she cuts her words, more resembling the way people talked prior to the cold war. “You don’t speak French?” Near everyone under twenty-five —the second generation in Havason— speaks French, which turned their English into a fluid wave of sounds.

She doesn’t respond.

“I think you should stay in the corridor while I go talk to them,” I say when we descend the stairwell.

She considers it for a minute. “No.”

Her ‘no’ usually means ‘no’. At the ground level I pivot around and take a hopefully right turn. It’s not and we stumble into a locked door.

“Lots of space, lots of space…” I whisper under my nose as I walk back. “Corrin, you’re all right… it’s not real.” I repel the upcoming wave of hallucinations. It only makes it worse.

Sevina turns her flashlight at me, a blinding light resembling a headlight of a car. “Don’t have a stroke.” Her voice is pungent like the smell of acid dwelling off the walls. She must hate me.

“Move, please.” I pass her, taking another turn and quicken my pace almost to a sprint until I reach a different door. I charge into the hideout and stop, catching my breath.

It’s over… the worst is over…

Sevina threads on my heels as we head past the black makeshift walls and a bunch of kids in the hammocks. We enter the circle and Sevina cocks her head back, gazing at the massiveness of the parking lot house. “This is nuts,” she bites out and I assume she means ‘awesome’—

“Drop the knife and your backpacks!” We jump at the male voice, booming through the structure.

I slide my backpack down and throw the knife away which I didn’t notice was in my hand. Two other guys stand above us on the second level. The corridor must have an alarm that alerted them. Or CCTV’s.

“It’s the fidgety fella!” Earless guy stomps down the ladder, leading from the second level. His hands on his hips he jerks his head sideways, smiling cordially. “Aida! You lost a bet!” Just as happy he jerks back at us. “Hello there. You are?” He tilts his head at Sevina who’s behind my shoulders, her fingertips touching my shoulder blades. She’s relying on me—

She softly pushes me forward, as if ready to use me for her escape. What was I expecting? I’m certain she’d use me as a shield if someone opened fire.

“Give him the gun,” I whisper over my shoulder, leaning back a little so she can’t push me further.

She steps out with her hands raised and turns. “A loaded barrel in my back.”

The earless guy approaches her and takes out the gun from under her sweatshirt.

“We just need to talk to Terrel,” I say. “He brought me here the last time.”

“Talk to Terrel my ass!” Aida strides into the circle, her French accent growing stronger with her words. Her hand slides for her gun, strapped to her hip—

“Let them come!” A deep voice from above stops her movement. Among other kids and teens that peek from different levels, I see Terrel, standing on the third, an unhappy frown twisting his face. “Bring them up. Let’s talk.”

They escort us to one of the metal ladders, leaned into the square shaped hole in the ceiling of the ground level. Even more kids ogle at us on the second level, too filled with hammocks and makeshift walls. Teens lean out of the plastic walls, their eyes scanning the unexpected guests. One of them twirls a knife in his hand and chews gum. A scare tactic. Not the most efficient one, but I did it once or twice on the street in front of some rogue violent looking teenagers.

The third level has only a little part of it walled off. Four doors stand out at the each side of the circling walls. Stepping over the open gaps between the car slots—this level has them uncovered—Aida leads us to one of the doors and waves us into a square shaped room. The earless guy stays outside.

The room must be a maintenance one as it’s small and its opposite wall has another rusty door, leading somewhere. Shelves, lining the walls, are stuffed with appliances, wires, cogs, and other doodads. A mattress lies on the floor and a small desk stands next to it behind which Terrel sits.

“Sit.” He tips his head to two chairs in front of the desk. We do. “Finally, I’ll use this desk to talk to somebody,” he mutters to himself, then nods at me. “I knew you’d come back.”

I shift in my chair. “How?”

“Where else you gonna go? With this situation.”

“And that’s why you’re not leaving this place.” I jerk as the door slams behind me, drowning out Aida’s strident voice. “First time we let you go. There isn’t gonna be the second one!”

I breathe deeply as I try to ignore the compression of this room and a potential death sentence. Sevina notices it and before I collect myself she speaks.