Tomorrow- Chapter Five

I don’t go to sleep. Instead, I pick up the clothes and get dressed before examining my reflection in the mirror; I’m wearing a black jumpsuit with black combat boots. I pat my sides and, when I locate a small pocket, I reach inside and pull out a small, rectangular card which is covered in repeating patterns. Then I walk towards the door and test the handle. It opens. I guess Charles didn’t lock the door after all. Before I leave the room, I turn off the light so that the light doesn’t spill out like a fountain into the hallway.I inch out of the door and into the corridor. The corridors dimly lit so I can just about see the door at the end. Once I’ve shut the door behind me, I creep along the narrow corridor, hoping that nobody sees me. Occasionally, I think I hear the sounds of people talking and doors slamming a couple of times but I don’t meet anyone. Eventually, I reach the door. I test the handle before slowly opening the door. Once I’ve opened the door a crack, I inch through it, closing it carefully so that no one hears it slam. When I reach the next corridor, I turn to the first door on my right. In the middle of the door, there’s a screen. I put the card on the screen and it beeps loudly. I jump. The door unlocks and swings open with a click and I walk inside.

I’m standing in a large room. It’s light despite the fact that the large windows are covered with heavy red curtains. The walls are painted off white and the floor is white Italian marble. Large embroidered rugs are strewn across the floor at random intervals and paintings and posters cover the majority of the walls pristine whiteness. In the far left corner, there’s a large TV, which is surrounded by mismatched sofas and armchairs. Judging by the positions of disarray that the chairs and sofas are in, I assume they were all dragged across the room when something interesting was on TV and nobody ever bothered to put them back.

Behind the sofas, there’s a foosball table. Most of the players’ legs are sticking up in the air. The right wall of the room holds a large marble fireplace around which several more sofas and a couple of worn armchairs are arranged. A large hairy dog dozes on the patterned rug in front of the smouldering fire. In the far right corner, there’s a small oak kitchen. In front of one of the large (now shut) windows, there’s a drinks bar. Two discarded glasses, which are half full, stand on top of it, whilst several bar stools surround it.

I stand in the room for a moment, just trying to take it all in. it seems that, in one day, I’ve gone from the homeless orphan to a girl living in a mansion learning to be a rich girl who has the world at her feet. Life is crazy sometimes. I walk over to the drinks bar and reach into one of the cupboards, looking for a glass.

And that’s when they jump on top of me. I feel like I’m about to be crushed by the person sitting on my shoulders; they must weigh at least fifty pounds more than me. I bend over, tipping them over my shoulders and onto the floor. They lie sprawled on the floor for a couple of moments before they leap to their feet. I’m too small to take them on directly so I remember what my Dad taught me about self-defence. He used to say that, if someone’s got you cornered, you should play to your strengths before running as fast as you can in the opposite direction.Somehow, I don’t think that now’s the time to flee. I pick up the glass on the bar and fling it at them. They duck a couple of seconds too late. The glass hits them square in the forehead, scattering shattered glass and liquid over the floor. They fall to the ground, their face covered in shards of glass.

I look up just as several other people dressed in black burst through the doors. I curse myself for not shutting them behind me. I position myself behind the pool of liquid with my fists up, daring them to come closer. One sprints towards me, not noticing the slippery floor. Fool. His legs shoot out from under him and he falls flat on his back into a pool of liquid and shattered glass. He moans and doesn’t get up.

Another one makes his way towards me. He hesitates too long by his comrade on the floor. Mistake. I pick up the second glass and hurl it at him. He looks up just as it smashes into his nose. He moans as a shard of glass flies into his eye. He’s no longer a threat to me.

The other two by the door dither but then a third comes into view, pushing them forwards. They make their way uncertainly towards me. I pick up a barstool and hurl it at them. They dodge it. I swear. I look around desperately for another weapon. My eyes light on a set of knives on the kitchen surface. I pick one up, testing its weight in my hand. When the first of the two’s ten metres away, I hurl the knife, aiming for their outstretched arm. I hit. They howl and the other one runs off in the opposite direction.

The final assailant, who has, until now, been dithering by the door, makes their way towards me. I notice a red-hot poker in the fire. I pull it out and brandish it in front of me like a sword. They pull their mask off.

He has wide set grey eyes and cheekbones which are even more prominent than mine. His hair is light brown and streaked with gold. He was what can be best described as a proud nose. He’s tall and slim and I know him already. It’s the delightful Charles Grey.

“Well fought.” He says, nodding at me.

I point the poker at him. He laughs. “I’m not going to hurt you like you hurt those guys.”

“Prove it.”

He reaches into his black jacket and pulls out a gun, knife and some sort of vial.

“You can pat me down, if you like.” He says, grinning. He has very straight white teeth, I notice.

I nod and put the poker back in the fire.

“You know, Rebecca, or as I should say, Elizabeth, your sheer nerve amazes me.”

I frown at him.

“You seem to be at your bravest when you know that you’re cornered, rather than when you’re safe and part of a group.” He explains.

“I work alone.” I say sharply. I do not need a group to help me fight. Safety in numbers means nothing to me. People just get in my way and stop me from accomplishing what I set out to do.

“Yes, I never doubted that.” He says smoothly, “But, you see, this is a vicious place and, you could do with an ally.” He holds out a gloved hand. “Allies?”

I knock his hand away and spit on the ground. “No.” I say before stalking out of the door.

I storm through the door at the end of the corridor and walk to the door of my room. I turn the handle. It’s locked. I sigh and sit on the floor. I can’t go back to the room with the fire. Charles might still be there. I’m not in the mood for a pleasant chat with him. I decide to wait for a while before going back. Charles should be gone by then. At least, I hope so.

I look down at my feet and try to see the logic in the previous event. Was it planned? Was it a test? Do they, like the government want me dead? Are they going to try to kill me? If I go to sleep now, will they slit my throat? If I go to sleep will I ever wake up again? Is there anybody in the world that doesn’t want me dead? A thousand questions whirl about in my confused and muddled mind. Thousands of questions that need answering but thousands of questions which will never be answered. I don’t even know if I want them answered. Sometimes, you have a burning passion to have a question answered but, when it’s finally answered, you’re dissatisfied with the answer. But then, I suppose that that’s life. You want one thing and then, once you get it, you don’t want it anymore. Life is an endless parade of dreams that are never fulfilled but, those who do fulfil their dreams want more. The more you get, the more you want. And me? I don’t know what I want from life but, right now, I want to make it through to the morning without having my throat slit. What a pleasant ambition.

I hear footsteps making their way along the corridor. I stand up so fast my head begins to spin. I look around for a weapon to defend myself with. I can’t see any, unless I can wrench the door handle off and use that as a weapon. The problem is that, well, I don’t really have the time to start dismantling doors. I whirl around and begin banging on the nearest door, trying to find someone to let me in. Someone grabs my shoulders. I start bringing my elbows back but then I realise that they’re not really being aggressive. They grabbed my shoulders in a comforting way, not a confrontational way. I twist around to see who it is.

It’s a boy but this one’s younger than Charles. He looks kinder, less mocking, more comforting. His hair’s slightly red and his eyes are sweet and blue. His hair curls slightly around his ears. He looks like the sort of boy girls confide in; not the one they fall in love with.

“You ok?” he says. His voice is soft and calm. It makes me feel calm. I nod and sink to the floor. He sits down next to me. We’re so close we’re touching but, it’s not in a romantic way; it’s more like we’re friends. Friends. I haven’t had any friends for years. I don’t need friends.

I nod.

“Charles can be pretty harsh sometimes but I know that he likes you.”

“Likes me?” I say incredulously, “It’s practically hatred at first sight.”

“Okay, maybe he doesn’t like you,” he admits, “But I think he admires you.”

I don’t know what to say to that so I settle for “Who exactly are you?” I say rudely.

As soon as I say it, I know how rude it sounds. If my mother was here now, she would have had an apocalyptic fit at my lack of manners. ‘First you start attacking someone without a reason and now you’re being discourteous! Were you raised by savages?’ She’d say. Sometimes, I really miss her.

Instead of being rude back, the boy smiles slightly. He’s clearly a better person than I am. To be honest, it’s not exactly hard. “Eddie, Eddie Johnson.” He says, holding his hand, “And I know that you’re Elizabeth.”

I nod, noticing how he doesn’t call me Rebecca. Does he know that I’m not really called Elizabeth? Or am I Elizabeth now? Is Rebecca gone? Who even am I?

I take his hand and shake it. He drops it back to his side. “What is this place?” I ask.

“This,” He says, gesturing around him, “Is the cottage.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ve been told. But what do they do here?”

“They train us.” He says, simply.

“For what?”

“Most of us are trained for direct combat with government agents but,” He lowers his voice, “I’ve heard that some people are trained to go undercover.”

“How many go undercover?” I ask urgently.

“I don’t know. I haven’t met one yet.”

I smile, “Will you show me around?” I say, changing the subject, “I could really use a friend right now.”

His broad face lights up when he smiles, flashing large white teeth. It seems that everyone here has white teeth. Must be part of the deal.

“Sure,” he says, “Do you want to go now?”

I nod and smile in a sweet manner which disgusts me. He holds out his hand. I stop myself from brushing it away and accept it instead. He beckons for me to walk with him down the corridor.

“So, how long have you been here for?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” He says, before adding, “I think I was born here.”

“You mean you grew up here?”

He nods. Upon seeing my incredulous expression, he adds, “It wasn’t so bad actually. It’s like having a family.”

“You’re an orphan too?”

“We’re all orphans.”

I change the subject, reminding myself that I’m trying to get more information out of him and the way to do that is not by depressing him.

“So, what sort of training do you do?” I ask, forcing myself to look interested.

“Well, most of us just do a lot of physical stuff, you know, like running, shooting, direct combat…”

“Most of us?” I ask sharply. He glances at me. I smile.

“Well, I heard that some people, the people who go undercover, do mental training and stuff…you know like learning how to be a different person, resist torture… that sort of thing.”

“Do you all learn how to resist torture or is it just-“

“Well, yeah, of course,” He says as we pass a large window overlooking a rose garden, “But we only learn basic stuff ‘cause we only know basic stuff about the organisation.”

“Basic stuff?” I ask quickly. “What basic stuff?”

He ignores my tone. “Well, we only know that we’re trying to overthrow the government. We don’t know anything else. You see, it’s not the end of the world if we get captured and killed. We’re disposable.” He adds bitterly.

“‘Course you’re not disposable.” I say reassuringly, touching his arm.

“Anyway,” He says brightly, “You’re one of us now. Another of the orphans trained to make more orphans.”

I smile at him.

“Well, here’s the gym.” He says as we walk into a large room.

There’s sports equipment everywhere. Literally everywhere. Treadmills line the far wall whilst several punch bags hang from the ceiling. In front of the treadmills is a large mirror. In the corner, someone’s running on the treadmill. I walk towards it, trying to see who’s working out at this time of day. All I can see is the back of a brown and gold head. Charles. I turn away quickly and walk in the opposite direction, hoping he doesn’t see me.

“Rebbe-Elizabeth?” He says. I guess he saw me in the mirror. Some wishes just don’t come true. I carry on walking away. “Elizabeth?” I carry on walking. I hear him clambering down off the treadmill. I walk faster. Someone touches my shoulder. I tense up. “What’re you doing here?”

“Eddie’s giving me a tour.” I say, pointing to where Eddie stands, watching us.

“Sure, it figures.”

“What?” I say sharply.

“Well,” He says twisting me around so I’m facing him, “It makes sense. You see, you’re smart but you don’t want a challenge. You want something safe and boring. Someone stupid.”

“He’s not stupid.” I say defensively but I know it’s true.

“You see that? You’re so defensive.”

“I’m not defensive.” I say, pulling away from his arms. I don’t really believe it though.

He laughs and lets me go. I stride over to Eddie. He looks at me and then pulls me out of the door.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Suddenly, a bell rings. It’s loud and intrusive. Instinctively, I cover my ears.

“Come on,” Eddie says, grabbing my arm and pulling my hands away from my ears “We’ve gotta get back.”

He beckons to me and we run through the maze of corridors. Thankfully, my constant walking from city to city has left me relatively fit because, the corridors are endless. Eventually, we reach the corridor with steel doors. He pulls out a card and swipes the door of the one I was attacked in last night. I reach for his hand and grip it tightly as we walk into the room.