The Neverland Wars

Chapter 4

Emma

    Electricity hums through my left arm, tingling in my cells, making the hairs on my skin stand straight up. I feel strong. Seeing the sheer power that just emitted from my fingertips thrills me.

    "Emma?" My name sounds foreign coming from someone else's lips. It's strange to hear it; I've gotten so used to "subject" or "prisoner". My eyes rest on the familiar boy in the far corner of the room, a pistol in his hands that he lowers the second I turn to him. I recognize the weapon instantly: it's a standard from the Rebellion, issued to all field agents. Even from this distance, I can tell it's a semi-automatic, with a larger magazine to minimize the amount of times one would have to reload during a confrontation. It's vaguely familiar to me.

    I finally tear my eyes away from the weapon to the boy who is holding it. His brown hair is cropped short to his head, directing more attention to his kind eyes that are just as brown as his locks, though you can barely tell behind the thick glasses perched on his nose. He looks older to me, more...hallowed. Being a spy during the Great War can do that to a person. I'm not sure I look much better. My thoughts drift to a time when we were much younger, not dealing with politics and dark magic and genocide. It's a shame that after all this time, these are the circumstances in which we are meeting again.

    "Seb?" I venture, hoping my suspicions are correct, and that he is the familiar face from my childhood.

    "Hi," he offers a small, reserved smile that relieves me.

    "Your hair, it's so short."

    "Yeah," he laughs nervously. "It is."

    "How long have I been in stasis?" I wonder aloud, staring at my hands. The last thing I remember clearly was the needle...

    And hands. Hands gripping the tops of my arms and pinning me down onto the hard metal table in the lab. I remember straps holding down my limbs, tight enough to cut off my circulation. Two hooks were stuck on either side of my mouth, effectively holding my mouth wide open as I stared into the terrifying yellow eyes of the Hatter. His chill-inducing cackle filled the room, overpowering my screams as he wielded an unnecessarily large syringe in front of my face. There was a pinch in the side of my neck, and then total darkness. Until now.

    Seb glances down at his tablet. "The data I took from your cell says three months."

    "Three months," I murmur, looking down at my hands. Three months in stasis but I feel stronger than I ever have before. My fingers brush against the inside of my left elbow and the strange puncture wounds there that seem relatively fresh. Strange, I don't remember having any sort of procedure where I would've gotten them.

    "Emma," the same voice from before repeats, and my eyes dart to the other man standing closest to me. In the blink of an eye, he's right in front of me, making me take an involuntary step backwards, which seems to disappoint him. "Do you know me?" He murmurs, his green eyes pleading, nearly desperate.

    "You hardly look like yourself," Seb mutters to him. "I would be surprised if she did."

    I examine the man, with dark reddish hair and brows to match. His eyes are strikingly green. I've seen eyes like that before...I just can't quite put my finger on it. His jaw is sharp, and a smattering of slightly faded freckles are scattered across his nose and cheeks. A pretty thick scar takes up most of the left side of his face. As I continue examining him, I arrive at the realization that he is familiar; his face prickling at nearly forgotten memories in the back of my mind. I can almost remember... My fingers instinctively reach out to touch his face, my index finger resting just above the corner of his mouth on the right side, imagining a dimple forming in his cheek as he smiled. In another life, I feel like his hair would've been lighter red, and his freckles darker, more pronounced. His cheeks would've been a little rounder, rosier, and his face wouldn't be scarred.