Son, Chapter 1: Cove (revised)

I was the King’s son. Everyone assumed that I hated my family out of spite. He’s rebellious, they’d say on the rare occasions when I dared to speak out. Just a spoiled teenager.

I tried to tell them what was really going on, but my father was always there. His hand is on my shoulder in every official photograph. The gesture looked loving to the press, but it was really to remind me not to mess up. If I said one thing out of line…

Well, let’s just say my nightmares started for a reason.

Tonight, on the day I turn fifteen, I’m running from all that. There’s no moon tonight, which is good. The cameras probably recorded me as I left, but if I hide in the ruins long enough, everyone will think I’m dead, and I can start a new life.

It’s early October; the air is kind of cold, but I was in too much of a hurry to grab a coat, and I’m not about to go back. In fact, I’d rather die than step inside those walls again.

I reach the ruins—cracked stone, twisted metal, and charred wood. Even I know the story behind them: Our ancestors built a great city. The buildings reached the clouds, the people covered their clothing in jewels, and poverty was eliminated.

Then our president—I think he was like a king, but with less power—refused to help North Korea win a nuclear war. Their supply of bombs was rather limited, but they had enough in their arsenal to destroy the continental United States.

Finally, out of the ashes, a noble survivor created a new and better government. Or so I’ve heard the King’s advisors say….

The night passes slowly.A noise cuts through the air; I jump to my feet.

They’re coming, it’s too late to run, I don’t know anything about fighting—

It turns out to be a raccoon. The creature’s dark eyes lock on my face, and it walks away.

I return to the shadows for another hour, never once daring to relax. Suddenly, a blinding light shines in my face. I recoil and close my eyes.

A rough-sounding girl, her voice close to my face, says, “Who are you and why are you out here?” Before I can reply, she continues, her tone changing from menace to shock and back again. “Wait—you’re the prince! I ought to kill you right now...”

“Sutherland?” another person says. “We came out here to look for you. You’ve been gone for a while. Wait, is that…?”

Sutherland must have nodded. “Let’s get him back to the base, then,” the second voice says. “We need to find out his motives.”

The harsh light turns off, and I get my first glance at my new captors.

Sutherland is a tall girl with long, blond hair. Her companion is a middle-aged woman. Both are armed with countless weapons.

I’m too stunned to struggle as they drag me into a hover tank.

The ride to their mysterious base is long and silent.

Eventually, we land.

I heard what the strange, callous girl said earlier: She will kill me, and willingly. This horrifies me, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that showing fear is always a bad choice. So I stay silent and still until the tank stops in front of what looks like an old supermarket.

“This is your base?” I can’t help asking. The girl raises her hand. I flinch, expecting her to hit me, but she’s just typing a code on a small screen near the door.

The door opens. A crowd of soldiers is inside. They stare at my face with obvious hatred.

It’s almost a relief when we enter a small, less crowded room.

The girl paces, while a guard forces me into a chair.

“It’s the first day of school for normal children,” she says.

I stare at her blankly.

“And you were going to attack them, weren’t you? Target the innocents?”

“What— “

“No, of course you weren’t. You were scouting ahead, feeding information to your rich dad. Is that right?”

Finally getting a word in edgewise, I tell her, “Actually, I ran away so I wouldn’t turn out like him.”

“And I’m supposed to believe the most wanted teenager of the century? Maybe I should just take you back to where you came from.”

I look into her eyes. “I know I’m your enemy, but you can’t do that. Kill me like you were planning to, make me a slave, I won’t complain, but don’t send me back.”

She’s about to say something, but another girl who looks like my captor’s sister steps out from the corner.

“Kate, you can’t send him back. First of all, if he is on their side, he knows where we live. You don’t want that information getting back to the King, do you?”

Kate considers this.

“Also,” the other girl continues,“look at the state of him. He’s so thin, and his clothes are practically threadbare. The Kingdom wouldn’t let someone they respected end up like that.” She gestures in my direction. I look away, embarrassed and vaguely annoyed. I know I don’t look like much, but I’d rather not have this fact thrown in my face.

“Fine,” Kate finally says. “But, Iris? If we’re betrayed, invaded, or otherwise inconvenienced because of him, don’t blame me.”

She turns and stomps out of the room.

Iris—the nicer one, as far as I can tell—starts to speak as soon as her sister leaves.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says quietly. “I can tell you’re not as bad as Kate thinks. Now, come with me and I’ll show you your room.”

She leads the way down a fluorescent-lit hall, to a row of identical-looking doors. A boy is standing outside one of them. I think he’s about my age, but he’s a foot taller than me, and built like a brick wall. Instant dislike flares in his eyes. I try to smile politely, but he ignores me and addresses Iris.

“Is this the thing Kate mentioned?”

“He’s not a thing, Brad. He’s a person,” she retorts.

Brad smirks. “Suit yourself.” He walks away slowly.

“Sorry about that,” Iris says. “That’s Kate’s boyfriend. He thinks he owns the place.” She opens one of the doors. “It’s not much, though. We prefer to spend money on weapons rather than luxuries.”

I stare at the room for a few minutes without speaking. “Are you kidding?” I manage to say eventually. “This is amazing. I’ve never even— “I stop. I’d better not say too much yet. But Iris insists.

“What is it?”

And suddenly I’m nine years old again, and my father is lecturing me: Don’t say a word, keep quiet, foolish freak of nature. I pull myself out of the flashback before it can get too bad, and tell Iris the truth: “I’ve never had access to anything this nice before.”

I expect her to pity me, but if she does, she hides it well. All she says is, “Well, your life will be better from now on, I guess.”

I stay in my new room, reading an old novel that I thought was banned, until Iris comes in a few hours later, looking embarrassed and holding some camera equipment.

“I hope you don’t value privacy, because Kate won’t let you stay unless I set these up.”

This time, I can’t stop the flashback.

I’m eight this time. I’ve been beaten before, but I’m too naïve to realize how bad it can get.

Father stands in the doorway, a fearsome-looking machine in his arms.

“You know what you did,” he says, softly but with obvious rage. “You were out of your room last night. That is not allowed.”

I try to make something up, not daring to admit that I was stealing food. “That must have been a servant, Father.”

Cold fury gleams in his eyes, but there’s something else there, too: Enjoyment of this whole process. “No, you worm. I know it was you because I have the CAMERAS!” He yells the last word.

Fast forward, and the machine clamps on my arms, and I hate the feeling. But it’s not as bad as the electric shocks that come within seconds.

“Snap out of it,” Iris says, back in the present. “Are you okay?”

I’m still only half-lucid, so she explains: “You just…started crying, as if you were in pain, and you said something about cameras.”

Reality comes back, and with it, embarrassment. “That happens sometimes. It’s nothing, I swear.”

She grabs my arm. I jerk away in automatic terror.

“I’ll convince Kate not to set them up, “she says. “You’re safe now. Remember that.”