The Intellect

Chapter 3

Perhaps he thought I was just another Intellect. Perhaps he saw me as the background music to his melody. Perhaps I accepted that role. Perhaps it's good that he's gone—now there's no one to stop me from learning everything I need to make it out of here.

"Intellect Renna, you've been approved for release."

I refocus on the wiry man standing before me. I survey myself and see that he has bandaged the two spots below my collarbones where the electrodes were attached and rubbed balm on the chafed skin on my wrists and ankles. Those burn marks and bruises are the only evidence of six days of torture. There's nothing he can do for the invisible damage inflicted.

He gives me an energy pill, and I accept it and choke it down before rising to my feet and staggering forward. Every step forward strains my muscles and makes me want to collapse in my bed and sleep for a thousand years. The Medical hands me a new set of insular and a pair of plain pants and a t-shirt then leaves, the door clicking shut behind her.

Left by myself, I rest my hands against the gurney and let my weight fall against it. I survived. I can't say that I'm safe or even out of the woods, but I'm alive. I draw a hoarse breath into my aching lungs. With slow, creaking movements, I pull on my insular. Insular is a translucent body suit worn beneath our clothes that protects us from the cold. Because of the arctic temperatures outside of the Civilization Center, the Civilizers can't keep the temperature warm enough to be comfortable, so we are forced to wear insular to keep us warm. I slip on the clothes over top, the t-shirt hanging loose over my ribs and the pants nearly falling down. How much weight have I lost?

FInally, I limp out of the examination room to the hallway where a group of Enforcers and Ryke await for me. When Ryke sees my stumbling gait, he slips an arm around my shoulders. I sag against him, grateful for his strength. Ryke, over six feet of solid muscle, doesn't seem nearly as weakened as I feel. The Enforcers deposit us in the elevator and a red laser scans Ryke's armband and my choker. Ryke silently selects the button that will lead us to our residency floor far above ground.

We are silent, and I turn to Ryke and his glowing gold eyes. I may be exhausted, but my curiosity is still ravenous.

"Are you going to tell me what you know?" I ask, my voice scratchy and low.

He turns to look at me, his pale face shadowed by long dirty blonde hair. His expression gives nothing away, but I know him. The fingers of his left hand thrum against his thigh, and I can tell he's lying.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ryke, I know you..."

His voice grows hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He glares at the four corners of the elevator, and my foggy mind grasps his message. Of course. Idiot. In my delirium, I've forgotten about the surveillance cameras. Of course they're watching us; the Civilizers are always watching. I've spent hours on the surveillance floor, watching for anything suspicious in the Civilization Center, and I've memorized almost every camera location. I berate myself for my stupidity, blaming it on the exhaustion and weakness. I can't risk our newfound freedom--not yet, at least.

We both grow silent and look straight ahead. Ryke is mistaken, however, if he thinks that I won't find out what he knows. Tier 3 and 4 Intellects and Justices don't have surveillance in their personal quarters, so I'll corner him in his room and force him to tell me the truth if I have to.

The door slides open and Ryke and I turn towards the third branch of the Tier 3 residency floor, the branch designated for Advanced Trainees. Ryke walks me to my room, leaning an elbow against my doorframe.