The Ravaged World (Book 2 of the Exiles Series)

Twenty-Four: Talia

I jolted awake, scathing hot sand nesting in the crevices of my skin, filling my mouth, my eyes, my nose, so that I struggled to breathe. My pulse was impossibly fast, literally nothing more than a constant thrumming in the pit of my stomach.

Oh, no. The pulse was caused by fear, not adrenaline. No, no. Not the island. Not again! The sensation was all too fresh in my mind, even after being back at home for nearly a year. Sand as a bed, the oozy mud of the swamps squishing between my toes, the agony of a spider's fangs giving new meaning to having the life sucked out of me. No, no, no! Not this again!

But logic kicked in a few seconds later, erasing all traces of the nightmare. If I was on the island again, I wouldn't have remembered ever being there before. I wouldn't recall the flurry of names and places that I reminded myself I knew. And I most certainly wouldn't be lying in a comfortable, cozy bed in a sterile white room wearing my tank top and leggings.

My name is Talia Brathol. A mantra, like the introduction to a movie, a series of sentences on constant replay through my brain that I didn't even know existed made itself known. I am fifteen years old. I live in a city called Silver, in a struggling country of the same name. My immediate family consists of my sister Nicole and my mother. My father is dead. My brain decided to tack on a few more current things, just for good measure, just to make sure that everything was up to speed. I've had a crush on a boy for almost two years. I don't know if he likes me back. And right now, we are caught in a twisted game of cat and mouse with Avalon Chase, commander of Silver's military. I have no idea where I am.

I tried to take stock of my surroundings. There was a table beside the bed. A light switch near a door to my right. There was a window to my left, the blinds drawn shut, allowing faint rays of crimson light to filter in and illuminate the tiled floor below. Another door, slightly ajar, was just across from my bed.

I attempted to sit up in bed and fold the covers off of my legs, but ended up wincing and slumping against the metal frame. "Oh, I almost forgot," I murmured to myself, inspecting my left shoulder. I was shot. But instead of being exposed and bloody, the wound was significantly smaller and bandaged. The bullet had been removed, leaving behind a faint, crescent-shaped scar. I suspected it had been injected with the same stuff that had been used to heal my broken arm right after I'd returned from the island--well, the first time, of course.

I slowly shuffled across the room towards the door. Behind it was a small bathroom, with a toilet, a bare sink vanity, a small wire rack of towels and a shower.

I flipped on the light switch and grabbed a fluffy towel off of the rack. Carefully, I removed my clothes and set them on the toilet before stepping into the shower. But...this shower wasn't ordinary. There was no knob to turn on the water--just a faucet and a black square that looked almost like a screen behind a thin sheet of plastic.

A tinny voice suddenly spoke, noticing my confusion. "Hello."

I looked around, even more confused and slightly freaked out. "Hello?" I ventured, turning around in a full circle.

"Please touch the screen to set the water temperature and control other settings," the voice informed me.

After hesitating for a moment, I reached my fingers forward and tapped the screen. The water came on, ice cold and pounding, until I increased the water temperature and decreased the pressure. It was perfect, and after a few minutes of just standing and letting the water's warmth wash over my sore, achy body an arm popped out of a hatch in the wall and handed me a bar of soap and a tiny bottle of shampoo. I thanked the shower, feeling a little weird for doing so, but not really sure what to do for a robot.