Defying Terror

Chapter LXVII

September 8th, 2030, 10:09 pm

I approach the desk in the front entrance office of the headquarters. My heart slams within me as I place my hands on the counter. Irene does not waver from her computer. "Evening, ma'am. Sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to the Captain. Is he in?"

She glances my way, tilting her head to look over her glasses. "Oh, Private Tross, it's you. All the officers are in tonight, but the General isn't allowing any visitors or appointments."

"Please, ma'am, it's really important. I promise I'll be quick." I hop on my toes with my gaze broken by blinks. I keep the exact reason buried, though I know it would levy the battle in my favor.

Irene bobbles her head. "I'm sorry, Slater, but the General is adamant about this. He's calling it a "lock-in." No one in, no one out. They need to catch up on work."

I turn away from the desk and expel some air. How in the hell am I supposed to get up to the offices now? The hallway to the administrative wing, guarded by a turnstile, looms to my right. Just pass that is the stairway leading upstairs. I could make a run for it; odds are, Irene won't be able to catch me. I didn't escape from the Imperial Guard for a whole summer based on luck alone.

If that was me, of course.

I slump into the sofa beside the front doors. After my meeting with Roarke, I determined that the Imperial Guard must be informed about the incoming catastrophe at the end of the week. The situation has become too dire to ignore it any longer. Had I known earlier that the first beast was arriving in five days, we would have more time to prepare.

Should I blame myself? Since I received the mark of the Medo, nothing I have done has been enough. Not inquisitive enough, not demanding enough, not strong enough. Now, all of the world's problems have been thrust upon me at once and I cannot carry them by myself. But do I have the right to alleviate the pressure onto others after I have been so weak?

Perhaps not. Then again, if I stay silent, the world will be destroyed without humanity having a chance to fight back, and I will be the one to hold responsibility.

The last time I sat on this couch, the Imperial Guard granted me life, or at least, a life longer than the one I intended to lead. That was the first moment I had known true peace and relief. Sitting here on this particular Sunday night, I realize that exact instance has dissipated into the murky air of Medo iniquity. I don't think I will ever be that blissful again.

Come to think of it, the last time I sat on this couch, I cloaked myself on accident; undetectable to both Irene and the Captain.

I know that my ability to disappear is awful at best. It happens when I least expect it or when it's unnecessary. No matter how hard I think about it, my body can't fade. It's no use straining myself to do something I know I cannot.

I peer at Irene, whose gaze is glued to her computer screen. I have to try. This is for the Empire.

A breath slips into my nose and crawls out through my mouth. I seal my eyes and picture myself trickling into nothing. My skin flakes off and meets with the dust in the air of the office. The weight of my hands falls to nothing and becomes one with space. The shaving reaches my shoulders and dances up my neck. My mind succumbs to the deterioration and softens.

I blink my eyes open and turn my attention to my arms. They are one with the air now. I have no time to waste.

I extend my legs and proceed toward the turnstile, surveying Irene at her desk. She remains fixated on her work and pays no mind to the teenager looming over her. Maybe I will regret not doing this the legal way. When I make it up to the officer's wing, this could all fall back on her. I'm sorry.