2050: A Time of Courage

Chapter 18: Lilian

Alessa and the other officers of the city patrol direct us through a maze of streets that would probably have taken us forever to navigate. They walk fairly quickly, though Alessa's limp keeps her from effectively outpacing most of us. I can't help wondering how she managed to survive, why she was the one case in which an Inhumane didn't transform its victim.

Why couldn't my parents have been that case? Or Katerina?

I force myself not to feel jealous, not to hate Alessa for doing what some of the people I cared about should have done instead. Eventually, my distraction comes in the form of the DiLorenzo mansion.

At this time of night, it's a creepy-looking shadow in the distance, and when we reach its gate I don't feel any form of reassurance. It's tall, intimidating, and like nothing I've seen before. Judging by the number of lights I can see glaring through its windows, I decide that the DiLorenzos must be rich enough to afford to keep a generator on even when the rest of the city gives up electricity for the night.

Alessa speaks quietly in Italian, sounding as though she's giving an order to the other officers. A moment or two after she finishes her instruction, they leave the rest of us alone with her as they head back the way we came. Alessa pulls a small key chain from her pocket, the keys attached to it making an almost-eerie sound as they connect with each other. She snarls something under her breath as she searches for the key to the gate, finding the one she's looking for on the third try.

Alessa unlocks the gate in one quick motion, the heavy iron contraption making an awful shrieking sound as she pulls it open.

"I told the servant to fix it." she spits, "Worthless. They're all worthless. I guess I will have to ask another one."

She stalks along the lengthy sidewalk, reminding me of an animal on the lookout for its prey. I fall into step with Theo and Rose, my brother trailing right behind me. Jason can't stop staring at the mansion, and I should probably give him some sort of lecture on how staring like that is rude, but I'm equally as fascinated with the building.

As I continue making my way along the sidewalk, I catch sight of the nearby stone fountain illuminated by the flashlight's beam. It's built in the shape of some species of bird, water flowing in a small stream from its beak in a way that could be hypnotizing. Near the fountain, I can just make out a garden of sorts, the shadows keeping me from identifying the plants being grown in its perimeters.

Something about the home manages to both excite and frighten me, and I can't help wondering how people manage to keep something so beautiful in a world that's all but destroyed.

Alessa reaches a set of marble steps, stumbling slightly as she begins her ascent. Emilio is behind her, and twice she looks back at him as though waiting for him to make life easier for her. Over my shoulder, I hear Dimitri muttering something under his breath and Shemik ordering him not to say it again.

Alessa reaches expertly for a delicate brass knocker as she stands on the top step, rapping at the door over and over while continuing to grip the walking cane in the other hand. She keeps assaulting the surface of the door for several minutes, as though by hitting it harder or faster she'll get the results she's looking for more quickly.

Eventually, a series of clicks resonate from the other side and Alessa returns the knocker to its rightful position. The door opens quietly, light from the entryway seeming to overpower the shadows outside. Alessa walks through the doorway without hesitation, never looking at the person who allowed her to get inside. Emilio does the same, and I step over the threshold after him.

I'm temporarily frozen, staring in amazement at what has to be one of the most elegant rooms I've ever seen. While the coat rack and line of shoes along one wall tell me that this room isn't very important in the grand scheme of things, the paintings lining the other wall must have cost a fortune. The silver and gold frames, I decide, must have been almost as pricey as the pictures they hold captive.