of blood and lies ; dystopian

31

Past

I pressed my palm against a cool glass box. Red light scanned the length of my palm once before beeping. The doors to The Blood opened.

The Blood had entrances everywhere. Seeing as it was deep underground, we never had to worry about Man stumbling upon our home.

All entrances led to the Home Office.

The Home Office was larger than all three sectors combined. The area was directly in the center of War, Order, and Intelligence. If anything important were to occur, or if any meetings were called upon by the Committee, it would be in the Home Office.

There was no main entrance to The Blood. Nearly every city had an entrance or some way to be transported to an entrance. This entrance, in particular, was on the outskirts of Chicago. It was tucked in the basement of an abandoned ramen shop.

I stepped into the elevator, though it was disguised as a walk-in freezer.

I crossed my arms and closed my eyes as the door shut. The Blood was very deep underground. If we weren't deep enough, Man would have found us by now.

After a few minutes of descending within the terrain, the elevator stopped. I placed my palm on another glass box, letting the red light scan my palm again. I still did not understand how we'd been infiltrated. The Blood had security for the security. And that security, too, had security.

I walked down the halls of the Home Office. It looked the same as every other sector. Cold, bare, and littered with Generals rushing to do whatever the Murthaa asked of them. Anaka rarely came to this area; it was too dangerous with the Committee here. If they'd so much as see an Anaka question The Blood, they'd send them to Euthanasia and have the Commander in charge questioned.

When I reached the Murthaa's office, I let myself in and plopped carelessly onto the black leather couch. Karro and I were visiting Chicago for the week, for our second anniversary. I'd asked for the week off, yet she'd still requested a meeting.

The office was large, the largest in the entire Blood. It was painted a dark shade of green and matched with black accents. It'd been like this for the entirety of her very long life.

"You're late," the Murthaa said. She leaned back in her chair, intertwining her fingers in front of her. A sleek black desk separated up.

"Yeah," I replied, sinking further into the couch. I crossed my arms over my stomach and stared up at her through my lashes. I did not want to be here. I wanted to be with Karro.

My eyes drifted behind her head. There were multiple computer screens, each a different projection from around the world. On one screen, it illuminated a war in the Middle East. Another showed the president of the United States. Sleeping.

They saw everything.

I reached for a bowl of candies on her desk. I grabbed the black colored candy labeled "Adolf." I popped the candy into my mouth, a tang of bitter blood hidden behind the sweet. I winced at the familiar taste; the candy with Hitler's blood was my least favorite.

"Morning," I grunted. I spit the candy out in the trash can beside the couch. I noticed a few fingers at the bottom of the bin, but I refrained from saying anything.

The Murthaa growled and her body tensed.

I knew why. I was disrespectful. She always hated disrespect. When entering any room, it was required that you dipped your head before entering. Plus, speaking so casually was beyond disrespectful in her presence.

I supposed I didn't care anymore. I was irritated; I wanted to be back in the hotel room with Karro.

The Murthaa's eyes narrowed. I noticed the tint of fume that rose behind her dark cheeks, matching the flash in her grey eyes.