Oriel~Book One

Chapter Three~Room for Dreams

The car ended up being something I’d never seen, and only heard about. A bucket on wheels that ran on large scale versions of batteries, and was covered by a sheet of metal in case of terrifying weather. Mr. Emmison sat facing me, tapping his knee to an unheard beat. Behind him is a tinted window, where the shadow of his chauffeur can be just vaguely made out.

I feel out of place in this grand vehicle. The seats are made out of velvet and lush leather. The outside is painted black, but shines with a strange shade of clean. I feel dirty. Even the last minute dousing in the river hadn't helped. There is still dirt embedded in my fingernails, and my skin can't seem to shed the layer of smog it had developed living in a factory surrounded city. Mr. Emmison doesn’t seem to mind, however.

"Can I offer you something to eat?" He opens a miniscule door inside one of the seats, it sends waves of chilling air through the car. "Something to drink?"

"I'm fine." I lick my cracked lips, well knowing that the last two weeks had been a clean water shortage.

"Maybe just water then?"

I want to smile. But deception overcomes me. Instead, I just nod. Mr. Emmison is a man who has suffered. Yes, he still lives in luxury, but he knows something about pride. I grasp the cold bottle and viciously twist off its cap. I down the entire bottle in four deep gulps. I'll regret it later, but right now I’m in bliss. He hands me another. I leave it beside me, the cold bottle pressing into my side, and reassuring me of its presence.

"Well," he pauses and swallows a lump in his throat, "Rachelle..."

"Call me Tessa." I interrupt, not knowing why, "At least for now."

"Okay." He seems relieved. "Tessa, you must have read up on Rachelle. Correct?"

"Yes." The water seems freezing now. I allow it to fall towards the seat.

"Very well, but I doubt you've been told the entirety of your mission." He waits, as though expecting me to interrupt once more. I don't. "We will be leaving here and joining a group of my companions about four hundred miles north. They are only necessary since," he glances at me absently, "frankly, you don't really resemble the spoiled daughter of a Radical general."

I smile. A real smile this time. He understands me more than I thought he would. I decide to trust him. No, not trust. Believe him. At least for now.

"And after that?" I ask, my hand plays with the soft velvet.

"After that, we drop you off at the Academy. You are all ready enrolled, of course." The car hits a bump and we both stop to look outside. Nothing but darkness, the vibrating hum of the engine, and the quieting patter of hail. "You have an advantage. You obviously have been training as a Rebel. Rachelle only would have had basic home training. You'll have to downplay your abilities, at least a little bit. Besides that, you will need to affiliate with people you may not like. And you will need to keep your temper." He glances at me be musingly, as though he doubts it to be possible, "They are your best chance at becoming incorporated with very high level Radical officials. We're talking people who actually run the show. Not military shmucks like me."

"Understood."

We finish at that. A northern check point is quickly approaching. We can't risk even the slightest chance of being overheard. I refuse to go to sleep, and instead look outside the dark windows. Nothing of interest, just fields of black and an occasional spark of lightning. My eyes feel heavy, and my stomach growls. Mr. Emmison doesn't say a word, he just hands me something from that remarkable cold storage box. I take it from him without caring about my sense of pride. That had all ready been defeated when my stomach betrayed me. Unwrapping it with nimble fingers, I marvel at its contents. Bread. Nothing like the city bread though. This one is fresh, soft, and amazingly doughy. Inside is a slab of heavenly smelling meat. Pork. I've had it twice before. They have farms up north where animals are killed for their meat. It sounds awful, but I devour it nonetheless. I'm no longer hungry. But I am still incredibly tired. The last thing I see before my eyes sew shut is the hazy grin of a laughing moon.