Chapter 1: Unlikely Allies

Scarlet has been delivered to The Head and sentenced to death. Will she make it out before her time comes?

Cancer.

I will never forget the look on her face when she heard the words come from our helper's mouth. There are no words to describe just how dead she was. Breathing, seeing, living. Yet, we knew she had just died. My father and I exchanged a look after we both witnessed the storm of treachery rising above my mother's head. As if she was the one who had even be afflicted directly with the word, hah! She wasn't even the one with the cancer.

    But still, my mother was a realist, not an optimist like my father or a pessimist like myself, the consequences immediately fell down upon her. She collapsed to the floor under the weight of reality. Without even a moment to let the news sink in, he was at her side like she was the one who was going to die (from the disease of course) comforting her shocked form. She didn't cry, didn't speak. She had to be breathing but she could've fooled me.

   So when I came home to her sprawled figure on the white, immaculate floor leaking a crimson fluid, I didn't cry, didn't speak. I simply grabbed the instant floor cleaner and returned the tier to its previous, sterile state. Eventually I extracted the blade from her ivory abdomen, covered by a bloody shirt, her hands fallen slack from the handle. Once her husband came home from work we removed her frame and shipped it off to the body plant, where she would be dumped into a burning pit of fire with the minimal amount of other corpses and released into the wild as a part of the cycle for new trees to sprout.

    It was also the first time I ever heard him cry, rolled up in a ball of agony, spilling tears from his puffy eyes. I walked passed the door of his sleeping corridor, saw the tragic picture and had to hold myself back from curling up beside him. Instead I opened the door and called out to him, "If anyone sees the state you're in, they'll call The Head. You need to brush your hair, clean your eyes, follow the rules." I regretted saying the words just as they spilled from my poisoned lips. As though he were not affected, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, patted the spot beside him and placed his arm around my shoulder when I sat down.

            "I've already threatened the rules, Scarlet. I'm not sterile, I'm sick. No one gets sick anymore, you've learned that in the Teachings, right? If I'm sick, I can't be here any longer." I suddenly knew how my mother had felt when we received the news from our helper. I bitterly watched as the perfect portrait of my family was ripped to shreds, torn from my arms, quickly unraveled and I was left with the frayed end, left to deal with the consequences.

                 They came in, took him away from me, I was told he suffered from the same fate as my mother. Suffered was not the word they used, but I know he was considered contaminated, therefore he would not be used as part of the cycle as my mother was. His bloodline is dirty, diseased and to be disposed of. Lucky for me I'm at the end of that line.

            Now here I am, silver bracelets of authority woven around my innocent wrists, adorned with little lasers inside each link. Just in case I decide to struggle too much for the 250 pound body guards escorting me, to handle. 2 others stand at my rear and in front of me for protection. A request put in by my lovely new guardian, not that I really need one, I'll probably end up dead anyways. Still, he wears the mask from our previous encounters with one another, the mask of concern, kindness and any other things a caring parent should be.

                My supporters have continued to think of lots of nice things to say as my body guards"who do a crappy job of actually guarding my body, a few rocks impale my right side" walk me to a very official looking white hover car. It bares the symbol of The Head, a black spherical shape to represent stability, the ring cannot be broken. Inside the invincible circle is a large silver S, stylish of course, standing for meaning of the three S's. Someone opens the door to the craft and I am lifted inside. The door is closed behind me and I send a sarcastic solute in the direction of my new friends. Surprisingly, they don't move. Hands folded and placed behind their backs, they stare up as we rise higher and higher above the clouds and the crowd. Their ferocious hands seem to clutch thin air, clearly wishing my throat was there instead.

                I stare out the window trying to seek out the terrain below, it seems we've surged so high we're among all the clouds and I cannot see anything besides them. The driver does not speak, he only continues to nervously glance over his shoulder at me behind the clear sheet of metal, to see if I'm devising some sort of devious plan to reach him through the impenetrable barrier and give him cancer. Everytime he looks back I have to laugh, apparently this frightens him even more.

     The barrier in front of me begins to shake, taking a contorted shape, pressing closer to my face. It becomes a blurry image, as the translucent wall inches towards me. The inside of the hover car seems to sway in a grey, frenzied motion. My eyelids suddenly weigh too much and I struggle to keep them open. Eventually it feels like they don't even exist. I bite down on my lip; same results. I flick my forearm hard, trying to feel something. The battle is too taxing; I give up and let this numbing feeling spread throughout my body.

  

               "How long has she been out?" I gradually become conscious as an alien voice calls out to my senses. My eyes stay shut as I play the role of an eavesdropper.

             "The driver said maybe an hour when they arrived, and it's been 30 minutes since." No more words are spoken for a few minutes, then I start to move. Not on my own though, I figure I'm on a hover board, being effortlessly transferred to a different location. Footsteps on my right side begin to retreat, setting on a new course off in a different direction. I hear the stranger call out a simple goodbye to his colleague and then briskly walk away.

    The steady footsteps traveling along side me are on my left, measured and steady, but not quite ready to defend a pending attack. I feel a heavy tarp cast itself over my better judgment. It finds ever fiber inside my brain and mends itself to the tissue, erasing all of my own thoughts. Suddenly there’s a series of movements that flash inside my head like instinct. The sudden lose over control frightens me for a moment, but then my emotions are stolen away, too.

Without opening my eyes I roll off the hover board on the opposite side of my guide, falling a few footsteps behind him, landing in a feline crouch. My own eyelids fly open as his head darts around in confusion, finally his eyes settle on me, but I'm already flying towards him.

              He sees my hostile figure barging near but his response is far too delayed, his training is to accompany unconscious bodies, not fight with them. My wrist shoots up towards his nose; I hear a crunch as a gushing river of red begins to flood from his face. His hands dash up in surprise, a pain filled groan escaping his lips. He realizes I am not yet done, reaching his arms out to stop me, I take a half step back in shock, but quickly regain focus. I drop to a squat extending my left leg and just as quickly whip it around to hit him sharply in the side of his knee. Before he is able to cry out, I stand fast and muffle his agonizing yells with my left arm, which is hooked around his face tightly. I use my other as support, allowing him to gracefully hit the floor. He begins to struggle, hands clawing at me, I reach down and take out the sleeping pen from his belt, write the amount of time messily on his forearm and almost instantly he stops squirming and slumps to the floor. "25 minutes should do it," I mutter breathlessly, dropping the pen. I look around the deserted hallway and somehow manage to heave the young man's body onto the hover board.

     I direct it into an empty room and shut the door behind us. It looks like an old storage room, but no dust or anything that would challenge the very existence of the rule sterile. I can tell it is old from the types of medicinal treatments in the white, overly used titanium like cases. One of them is labeled 'bandages', I almost laugh as I take it down from the shelf, haven't heard of these in quite some time. I remember reading about it in a book once though, what was it called? Ah, The Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare. I had to fight on ends with my mother to keep that ratty thing, she had me run it through the steamer almost one hundred times before I was allowed to even touch it again, never mind reaching the action of actually reading it.

              My father had worked for The Head in the archives department. He skillfully scanned through hundreds of books everyday (with a few others to help of course), they were the ones that determined what literature would be appropriate for the naive minds of the citizens that surrounded them. The books that did not make the cut, whether they were too advanced or refused to be spotless and clean, were disposed of. Among these mutant books, The Twelfth Night and many other brilliant screenplays were in the same pile. Luckily daddy knew just how much I would appreciate these beautiful pieces of writing, when others could not. He hid them in his workbag, wrapped in many layers of sterile paper, and brought them home to me. I read Shakespeare, Al Capone, writers from centuries before our own, and then others not too far behind us, Dickens, Jane Austen, C.S. Lewis, Kipling, the list continued to grow until I was struggling to hide the illegal paperbacks in my clothing unit. It held more books than clothing, something only my mother complained about.

               I imagine most of the books had been found now, and are undoubtedly being destroyed at this very moment as I retrieve the 'bandage' container from it's place on the shelf. I fiddle with it, trying to find the opening. I curse softly. There is a small bar with a red and green light above it. I lay the package down on a lower shelf and move towards the seemingly dead anatomy resting in midair. I flip him over moodily and lift up his shirt to see a slim, white stick with a unique bar code etched into its surface with a silvery ink. I remove it from the link on his pants and slowly wave it over the bar on the case of bandages. The red light blinks once and it stays shut. I sigh in defeat and lean the case on my escort's body, his identification tag rested on top. I search for some kind of instruction on how to use this inconvenient method, everything is retina or finger scans back home. I hear something click behind me and I spin reflexively to see the box has popped open. I travel over to see the stick had somehow attached itself. Some kind of magnet, I guess.

             I extract a few bandages, coating them in saliva and then go to work on the man's face, the crimson mess makes it look distorted. I take off my white jumpsuit and replace his clothing with the onesie. It's a tight, unnatural looking fit. I explore desperately for some sort of 'uniform' case in the small room. I come across one labeled 'hoods and boots'. I tear it from it's place, no doubt I'm running out of time. What will they think when my body/guide doesn't arrive at our meeting place?

            I use the same slim stick and watch as it automatically connects itself, the light blinks green and it opens quickly. I make a sound of surprise and grin widely when I see it's contents. High socks to cover the skin showing from my 4 sizes too small jumpsuit, white boots in various sizes and attachable hoods that connect to the back of the neck on the one piece suit. I take out the articles of clothing I require and place them on the floor in front of me. Using the enlarger, I make them the proper size and quickly put them in their rightful places. The hood effectively, and to my advantage, covers the lack of hair the male figure has on his head. The clock on his arm reads 18 minutes, I curse quietly and quickly begin to put his uniform clothing over my undergarments. They are a big baggy, but will have to do. I return the room back to its natural order and fasten his identification tag to my pants, making a mental note that it's a good thing they do not require retina or finger scans here.

             I immediately regret that note as I approach the barrier that separates a long hallway, which bridges over the rocky pit below. It is a retina detector that detaches me from the other side. I see through the clear metal door. We are perched high up in the air on strong, indestructible pillars, lodged deep down in the earth boarded by rolling hills, stone gateways and ridged mountains composed of deadly sedimentary rock. It is clear there is no way to get in or out of this facility without a hovercraft; it'd be an impossible journey on foot. The bridge connects to another building, much larger than the one I stand in, also being supported by pillars, I can detect that it is completely transparent to a certain extent, then the walls become opaque.

               I stiffen as a lady dressed identical to me, white, comfortable"as expected, stylish"pants, a pair of silver combat boots, white windbreaker with The Head logo on the rest breast and a white rimmed, silver hat. I keep my head down, the rim of my own hat shielding most of my face. I make it look as though I am just checking the air levels on the hover board, mistakenly drawing attention to the body it carries. I watch her from my peripherals as she gives me a sophisticated, robotic like nod, glances down at the body and then stops suddenly. His face is downward, the hood covering the back of his head, what could she possibly have seen?

               "Is that the Pattin girl? I heard she was coming in today." She stares at me with curious eyes, I adjust my hat to cover my face more as I glimpse up.

            "Yeah, Scarlet Pattin. Boss had her sent in just this morning." She nods, watching like a child at the sweets box.

              "Looks much larger than she did on my viewing box just yesterday." As if on cue, the limp man's arm leans too far off the edge of the hover board and falls off, unbalancing it. The guide lunges forward to help me readjust the body. She steps back, confused, once everything is back in order. "Much heavier too."

             "Well, you know what they say," I laugh nervously, keeping my eyes down. "the camera takes off 10 pounds, can't have fat people on our stylish network." She laughs along with me, a real laugh. I have to laugh with her again seeing as this man is barely fat, but isn't quite the weight of a slim 17-year-old girl either.

            "Why don't you use your pen and add a few more minutes? She should be motionless." I fumble my fingers around the loops in my borrowed belt; the case where the pen should be is empty. That's when I remember; I dropped it in the hallway and never picked it up again.

              "It seems I've dropped it, it's alright though, she'll be secured soon enough." The guide gives me a questioning look as my simple solution threatens the stability law. My luck seems to be endless today for all she does is smile, no sounding of an alarm or pinning me to the floor.

            "I'll just use mine then, don't worry. Better to be safe than unstable!" She reaches out to lift the sleeve on the motionless figure. I flinch as she sees the hair on his arm, she is no idiot. We both know this is not Scarlet Pattin. She pivots around just in time for my boot to come into contact with the side of her face. I hear her neck snap just after she cries out in shock. I drag her lifeless body to a nearby chute that empties down into the big crater the building is sitting inside of. I stuff her body through the cramped space and watch as she falls to her second death. I return to my decoy and pull his sleeve back down. I really should have retrieved her pen before dumping it out with her.

              12 minutes. I look around and see a package on the floor. If that guide does not arrive with what she was sent to get, they will come looking for her, and find me, Scarlet Pattin, everyone's mortal enemy for the time being. A slight bit of panic washes over me as I reach for the hood of the jumpsuit, I lift his head up and use the lower half of my body to support his shoulders and chest as the metal plate scans his left eye. The light blinks green as I drop his heavy skull; it hits the hover board with a thud as the barrier slides open.

      I conduct the hover board across with my head down. As we mount over the high arch of the bridge and begin to descend down towards the exit several other guides pass by me, I accidentally shove one with my left shoulder and he makes a sound in protest, alerting me.

    "Wait, is that Lista?"

               "I think so, who's that she's guiding?"

               "Since when did Lista shrink 5 inches?" The voices are just a murmur behind me, but soon after I hear the progressing footsteps, drawing near.

     "Lista?" They'll get a good look at my face and make the connection. I figure, better in here than out in the open where we will attract more attention.

               I feel a hand place itself onto my shoulder. I grab it seconds after and use the leverage to flip the body. It rolls over my back and flies over my head, hitting the hover board hard, both bodies crash to the floor, revealing the true person that is on the hovercraft.

             "Isn't that Fredrick?" I turn to see the two guides, eyes filled with confusion and worry. I immediately remove my hat and toss it in one of their face's, this disorients the slow minded individual but reveals my identity to the other. "I-It's Scarlet Pattin!" I roll my eyes and throw a roundhouse kick into her left ear, popping her eardrum. She goes down like a sack of potatoes, wailing and crying. Blood is seeping through the cracks in her hands that are clutched against her ear.

            The other guide comes charging at me, arms open wide, as if to give me a hug. I stand still, watching him until he is a few feet away. I dodge his arms when he reaches me and jump on his back. One hand under his chin, the other on the back of his head, I turn his neck around much farther than it should go and leap off his back with ease as he falls to the cold and metal floor. The loud, fiery haired guide is still crying out. I walk casually in her direction, emerald eyes watching me, wild with fear.

            "Tsk, tsk, you're getting blood all over. Now that isn't very sterile." I bend down beside her and pick up her head with one hand, she begins to squirm, and then I slam her skull back down. That crunching noise again.

               I see a group of guarders all crowded at the entrance by the barrier I recently came through. They notice me and I hear the eruption of anger as one of the guides scans her retina, clearly terrified at the cannibalistic sounds growing behind her. I rise to my feet and turn to run, my head still watching the enraged mob, craving to be in pursuit of me. My right foot seems to be kicked from under me and my face hits the ground, lip busted, I begin to see blood before me. I lift my head quickly to see my lovely guide, Fredrick, waking from a nice, long antiseptic sleep. He gazes at me with confusion, which quickly drifts to realization and finally melting into an angry, hard mask. He reaches for my leg but I swiftly drag it in, using it as a block to propel myself forward.

    I start to sprint as I hear the guards enter the hallway. It is a long stretch before they will be where I currently am but I need to obtain another retina to get to the other side. Fredrick follows not to far behind me, running almost as fast, but my athletic, toned limbs are swifter. I arrive at the second barrier and shift to await Fredrick. He catches on to what I plan to do and attempts to skid to a halt, failing miserably on the slope of the bridge. He practically slides into my arms and I grab his head, positioning his eye directly in front of the scanner. The barrier opens and I shove him through, myself next, watching as it locks shut.

    The guards stand by the discarded bodies of the previous guides and begin to drag one towards their destination. I circle to see that Fredrick is gone. Great. He will surely alert someone of my presence.

               I scale the side of the wall, it extends high beyond my head, leading upwards to connect to a ceiling I cannot see. I keep with it, eventually curving around. A staircase going to the next floor, an automatic lift beside it. I choose the safer option and begin to climb the stairs, skipping two or three as I go. I land on another floor that looks much like the one I was previously on. That same wall that goes higher than my eyes can see is here too, except now there is one on either side, no more clear metal walls, this must be the part that looked opaque from the other building across the bridge.

             I walk down, passing a series of doors with recognizable labels above them. Several eating corridors, twice as many sleeping ones in between and finally one labeled 'Main Office.' There is a password code beside this door, not like the retina scanner on the others. I stare at it for a few moments, considering some of the numbers on Fredrick's bar code, maybe they'd work...

            "Of course she's in the building, we brought her here." I hear voices on the other side, coming closer, louder and clearer.

             "Sir, she's in the building...unattended." There is a moment of silence as the news sink in. The voices continue to converse with one another, but much too quiet for me to hear.

             There is a ding at the opposite end of the hallway from which I came, as the doors to the lift open I press myself against the door, for some reason I hope this will hide me, but I see no other option. A helper steps out, dressed in the same mint and white attire that my helper wore when I was in the medical center yesterday. But this lady is much smaller.

              She reads files on her metal reader, sliding them up with the touch of her finger, clearly engrossed in it's contents. She strolls right by the main office, no attention spared to me and my lousy hiding spot.

             I step up behind her and wrap my arms around her neck, my intentions to cut off her air supply. She squeals breathlessly, the sound hardly a croak. Her weak hands fly up to remove my own. "Shut up and I won't break your neck, that goes for the squirming too." She wiggles around a bit more and then becomes aware of how serious I am. "Do you know where Scarlet Pattin is?" She gestures to my arms as if to say she cannot breathe, destroying her ability to talk. I loosen my grip slightly, being careful that she cannot turn around.

              "I...was...on my way...to bring these... files to her room." She speaks, exasperated. Her voice does not suit this body, it is seductive and much too juvenile for her middle aged appearance. She must've gotten a voice replacement.

    "Her room? Aren't they just going to kill her?" The nurse strains to turn her neck, I tighten my arms, a physical note for her to keep looking straight ahead.

              "Who are you? She doesn't have any family left." I wish I have a weapon right now, the muscles in my arms are screaming in exhaustion and this would be easier face to face. "Her room is right there anyways," She points to a door 3 down to our left. Something in her voice is off. Confidence is slowly creeping back into her once shaky stance. "if you let go of me, I'll let you in." This is when I know she is lying; it is obvious they have been alerted and are aware of my escape, there's no way I'd be tucked away in 'my room'.

            A sparkling glint catches my attention; it is sticking out the pocket of her mint blazer. Her hand is gliding down to the blade. I throw her forward as I obtain it from her side, the weapon feeling light and secure in my hand. A feeling of security washes over me.

             She squeaks in surprise and wheels around, eyes bulging at me. "I knew it." She spits. Her tone is caustic, hostility and disgust blazing in her silver tinted, lilac eyes. The emotion set there is so very wrong in contrast to the colour.

            "Just let me in and you can keep your pretty little mouth." She watches me for a few beats, waiting for my threatening words to seep in. She realizes I am not playing a game here; I have no problem with breaking her neck. Just another obstacle in my way.

              She slowly moves towards the door, glancing over her shoulder every few steps. I pick up the sound of a large crowd moving up the stairs. "Hurry up!" I exclaim, as the machine examines her retina. Taking it's sweet time to do so, I pick her file tablet up off the ground. Once the door swings open, I usher us both inside and quickly shut the door. I lean against it, pulling the helper into my chest and covering her mouth until the noise, caused by their heavy footsteps, passes the door.

             There are a few loud curse words and sighs in failure. I hear orders for them to split up, half take the elevators and half continue up the stairs. The babble of their withdrawal from the hallway allows me to drop the helper. She lands in a heap, whining to me. I put my back to her, seeing my few bags piled up on the bed.

               I start to go through them. I catch her ungracefully stumbling to her feet and preparing to leave. "Open that door and I'll have this blade in your head before you can even breathe the air out there." I return to my bags, not bothering to see her reaction to my bloodthirsty statement. From the side of my eye I view her departure from the general area that encompasses the door and she sits in a nearby chair.

                I open one of my white bags and peer inside, the general tooth cleaning pills, a grooming stick, undergarments. I let the helper's file tablet fall inside and it hits the bottom with a thump. I lift the bag to look underneath but there is nothing there. I begin to run my hand along the base of the carrier, it is hard and there are several sharp corners. Dropping the bag back down, I take out the contents. There is a small patch underneath everything and I peel it back to reveal a few books in a secret compartment in the underside of the bag. I suppose my guardian wasn't all that venomous after all...

                Just as I am packing the essentials back in, I hear the door open loudly. I turn fast.

            "Well, let's get a move on then." A thick foreign accent rings through my ears, the voice talks as everyone else here does, yet it is somehow stronger, more noticeable. His familiar blond hair that I had so carefully covered with that white hood is now a mess a top his head. Ice blue eyes almost melting with impatience. Jawline strong and set, teeth clenching. Nostrils on the side of his awkwardly bent nose are flaring, proving he hasn't come here from a leisure stroll. Fredrick slams the door behind him and walks to my side. 

               "Who's that?" He sends a look in the direction of the helper, who is almost as shocked as I am at the sight of my past guide. He has changed out of my jumpsuit and now wears a pair of khaki slacks and a periwinkle polo-- much like the helper's hair-- that has The Head symbol on the right breast. I stare at him in confusion. "I also don't appreciate you almost breaking my nose. That bruise is never going to go away." He laughs to himself, gently running his fingers over the bridge of his nose. There is no trace of the blood ever being there, the only evidence of his injury is a purple-y, blue shaded pigment on his unblemished, fair skin. "Never mind the tight clothing, the circulation in my waist was cu-"

             "What are you doing here?" I trail back from the stranger, clutching my bag of books and simple toiletries into my chest. The blade is in my hand, drawn out in front of me. He paces back as I change my mind, beginning to advance on him. We both flash our heads to the door as the helper slips out quite noisily. "Great, you let my hostage get away."  I mutter, annoyed.

             "I'm here to help, when I saw you on the viewing box last night, I knew that this would be my last chance." My hand wavers, and then falls, the blade included.

   "Chance for what, exactly?"

              "The chance to fight back."

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think!
And sorry for the messy layout I'm not sure what happened.