Chapter One

A Chapter by Mélie Lune

It's so dark that for several irrational seconds, she thinks she’s gone blind.

But as Allie’s eyes make frantic passes at every angle for something to focus on, they land on a small strip of yellowed light, and from there she can just make out the dark edges of a narrow door. It's a room, not an abyss - it's stupid but even that small truth pulls her back into the world. Allie tries to take stock of herself; she lays on a mattress so terrible that springs dig into her spine, and as far as she can tell in the dark, still wearing the last outfit she remembers pulling on and the boots she’d bought last week. There is a steady comfort in that, at the very least.

How did she get here? Where is here? She tries to sit up, only for her left arm to stop abruptly at an awkward angle above her head. Panic stabs sharp and hot between her ribs. Allie pulls again and hears the distinct clang of metal against metal. Handcuffs? Chains? Did anyone even have chains, anymore? Before Allie can decide between screaming and silence, there's a rustle to her left and all the panic from before culminates into a single, shrill point of fear.

There's someone else in the room.

Her first instinct to launch away from the noise is thwarted by the already-forgotten restraint; pain shoots the length of her arm, but before Allie can even cry out, someone's hand slaps over her mouth.

"If you scream," says a voice from too close to her face (Allie feels air brush her cheek), "they'll probably just kill us faster."

There is a weight pressing down over hers, something cold (a button? a belt?) pressed against the exposed skin of Allie’s stomach where her shirt's ridden up, making her shiver. It's a boy, that much she can tell. He doesn't sound much older than her, but the edge in his tone still makes Allie’s stomach turn.

"I'm not going to hurt you," continues the voice in the dark. "I know you're scared but I need you to trust me, okay? If it makes you feel any better I'm chained too," ---she hears a tell-tale rattle above her head-- "and this is actually kind of painful for me."

It doesn't make her feel any better. If anything the dial of panic just spikes higher. Is it possible to flash hot and cold at the same time? Allie weighs her options in silence, all-too aware of callouses against her mouth. He seems genuine enough, and clearly has a grasp on what the hell happened to her, so what choice do she have? Allie nods in an exaggerated motion of her head. There's a moment or two longer of silence as the boy clearly decides if this is a good idea, before the weight and the hand disappear and she can breathe again. The mattress creaks as he settles back down, and a scraping sound, presumably the point at which his chain or cuff connects to the bed-frame, follows.

"Allie, right?"

His voice is still a little closer to her head than she'd probably like.

"How--"

"Morgan," he says, as though this explains everything. "I'm Lucas."

Allie has the unsettling feeling that she’s missing something incredibly important, because when she asks, "Who's Morgan?" Lucas' silence is somehow so much heavier than before.

"Great," he says in a tone implying this is not great at all, "Of course you don't know."

She waits, but when he doesn't elaborate, Allie prompts, "Any day now would be great." She’s surprised at how much sarcasm she’s able to inject when her heat's pounding so loud Allie can barely hear herself over it.

"It's a good thing you're already lying down," Lucas says, almost conversationally, as if they were speaking over coffee instead of trapped together on a small bed in a near pitch dark room. "People tend to get faint when they hear they have a long-lost sibling."

Allie laughs--she can't help it really, and it's sort of comforting that she can laugh in the midst of all this fear.

"A long-lost sibling?" she echoes. "Really? Next thing you'll be telling me is that I have a super-power and we share a mind, or something."

Lucas chuckles, the sound seeming to come from low in his throat. "Took the words right out of my mouth."

She rolls her eyes, though the effect is lost considering she can't even see her hand in front of her face, let alone Lucas. "You can't be serious. I don't have a sister, I have a--"

I have a brother. It comes in flashes""sitting down in the cafe, ordering cake to share, his easy smile--

--the sound of the gun.

"Ryan. Oh my god, Ryan!"

Allie lurches up, a scream rising in her throat. From beside her, she is vaguely aware of what sounds like Lucas cursing under his breath, and a rattling noise as he sits up and grabs for her in the dark. She tries to shake him off, the force of pulling on her chain is like trying to rip her own arm clean out of its socket. "Ry--"

Lucas claps his hand over her mouth again. "Stop," he hisses, all amusement in his voice dead and gone. "He's not here, he's--"

She can't say anything into his skin so she just shakes her head until the pressure comes loose. "Shut up! He's not, he's"Ryan! Ryan!"

Lucas redoubles his efforts and then Allie is simply screaming into his palm, pulling against his other arm that wraps around her waist. Against her side she can feel the links of the chain that traps him in the bed with her, pulled taught and digging into her skin.

All she has to do is get out, he'll be there, he'll have found her--

Faint footsteps sound beyond the door, moving closer and closer. Lucas goes rigid against her back and Allie pauses without meaning to as they both strain to hear.

"Not a sound," Lucas orders, so quietly she would never have heard if his mouth weren't practically touching her ear. "That is not someone coming to save us."

Fear presses painfully on her chest as Allie suddenly finds it hard to breathe. She squeezes her eyes shut and her brother's face is all she can see""square jawed, dimpled, full lips, and laughing dark eyes.

He'd pushed her under the table. Touched her face. Said, "I love you," and put his hands up over his head.

His eyes were still open when his body thudded back down to the ground.

Allie doesn't remember screaming, but when she'd woken up in the dark, her throat felt raw.

Tears spring into her eyes as the footsteps pause just before the door. She doesn't care, suddenly. She doesn't care about where she is or who this boy is holding her back, she doesn't care who is behind the door and whether or not she is going to die in this room.

Not at all.

The footsteps recede. The tears slide down her face and it's not until silence folds around them once again that Allie lets a sob choke her. Lucas releases his hold with a quiet, "I'm sorry," but she doesn't really hear him. She folds herself as tight as she can on her side, pressing her free hand into her mouth to muffle the noise.

Lucas is silent.

The darkness is unmoved as it pulls her back down.

When Allie wakes up, her bones feel heavy, as though they could grip her soul and sink it down past the metal frame of the bed, past the floor, and deep into the earth where there is nothing but cold and darkness. Somehow, she wouldn’t mind at all. The room is quiet; Lucas is either a silent sleeper or he’s simply gracing her with the space in which to grieve. Allie can’t decide which she prefers, but as it turns out, Lucas isn’t asleep.

“When did you eat last?” His voice is low and graveling. How long has she been unconscious and vulnerable next to him?

No noise accompanies the question. He’s made no move to turn towards her, but Allie is suddenly uncomfortably aware. There is probably less than a foot between them; she is acutely aware of the warmth of his body next to hers, steady like the beat of the sun and somehow making her feel very small.

“No idea,” she replies, whispering in spite of herself. There is a rustling and a creaking as the mattress dips, and Allie has to consciously pull herself in to avoid rolling in Lucas’ direction. After a moment more the sound of a zipper sliding open and closed reaches her ears.

“I’ve been traveling for days,” comes Lucas’ voice, somewhat muffled now. “They didn’t take my pack, which...well, may be our saving grace.”

“And why’s that?” Allie asks, more to fill the silence than anything else. If she concentrates on each moment as it comes and latches on tight, the grief can’t pull her back down.

“Granola bars, for one.”

She only starts a little when something warm bumps in her fingers and Lucas passes a familiar shape into her left hand. Unfortunately that hand is now useless; Allie reaches across herself and maneuvers the wrapping open with her right hand and her teeth. She pauses just moments before taking a bite.

“What kind--”

“Chocolate chip,” Lucas says before she can get the entire question out. “No peanuts, I checked before I bought them.” A beat, as though he’s debating whether to continue. “Morgan’s allergic too--it’s just a habit now.”

The first bite sits on her tongue for a long time.

She’s too tired for those questions right now.

“And the second thing?” Allie prompts around a mouthful of chocolate. Her stomach aches; how many hours have passed since the café? Have they moved on yet from hours to days?

“A pocket knife. In the hidden compartment.”

The bite Allie had taken is too big and scratches her throat as she swallows. A shiver runs the length of her spine, the food now forgotten. Lucas seems to take her pause for something she doesn’t want to admit is still pressing in her stomach.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says softly. “Do you believe me?”

Allie seriously considers the question. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” she counters, “A twin? I mean it’s ridi--”

“A star.”

Having a conversation with someone so close but being unable to see them is unnerving and frustrating. “What?”

“You have a birthmark on your left shoulder in the shape of a star.”

Allie feels cold rush everywhere.

“Morgan is your identical twin,” Lucas continues. “it’s your Mark.”

She can practically hear the capitalization.

“My mark of what?”

“Every set of twins has a unique mark in that spot,” he says. “Mine’s in the shape of an arrowhead.”

“Your…” Allie’s head begins to ache. She listens as Lucas takes a breath. And then another.

“Your Mark identifies you as part of the Transcendent Program.”