Beneath the Shadowlanders

Chapter Twenty-Four: Genevieve

The inside of the complex is pretty much the same as the outside. Imposing gray brick walls, soldiers with guns walking around everywhere, poor lighting. A soldier leads us directly to the General's office, marching ahead of us, with one of his buddies right behind us the whole way, finger hovering ominously above the trigger of his rifle. When we reach the door, the soldier steps in first, closing the door behind him. After a second, the door reopens and we're ushered inside.

Our guide and his buddy each stand on either side of the door. The General sits at the opposite end of the cold, prison-like room. We approach his desk cautiously.

I've never met a General before. I don't know what to do. Do I salute? Bow? Curtsey? Recite a freaking sonnet?

Orion and Calista salute, and Gabe and I follow suit.

"Your honor," Orion begins.

"This had better be worth my time," the General interrupts. "I've had more than one hoodlum insist on speaking with me about 'matters of the utmost importance,' and it's almost always been a disappointment. And I do not take disappointment well."

Orion gulps. "Yes, sir." He takes a step forward. "Sir, we – she," he gestures toward me, "– has figured out how to end the war with the shadows."

The General's expression is unwavering and skeptical. "Go on."

"This girl and her brother have been living on the surface, alone, for the last three years. They've survived by scavenging food from nearby houses. And they've found a way to survive the shadow attacks."

The general leans forward a bit, but remains stalwart. "And how is it that you think they've managed to defeat the shadows?"

"Not defeat," Orion corrects. "Coexist with. Perhaps Genevieve would explain it better." He steps aside, allowing me to take front and center.

Gee, thanks. I take a deep, shuddering breath. "The war with the shadows is only making things worse," I start. "It's angering them. Forcing their hand. They don't want a war. What they want is respect. Equality. It's what they've always wanted." I'm shaking.

"What does this have to do with anything?" the General asks, impatiently.

"The only way to end this war is to give them what they want. Treat them as equals. It's something I figured out by accident, actually." I describe the incident in the library with my brother, making sure to emphasize the respect we showed the shadow there. When I'm finished, the General just sits there, nodding.

"Tell me," he begins, "how did you and your brother escape the migration?"

Oh, crap. "We were orphaned," I explain nervously. "We didn't want to be split apart."

"Yes, but how did you manage to stay on the surface undetected? All citizens were required to take part in the migration. How did you slip past our notice?"

"We ran away and hid in an abandoned bomb shelter." Hot stinging begins at the back of my eyes, and I feel my brother's hand graze my own.

"And now you've come to rejoin us. To be reintegrated," he scoffs. "You've realized your mistake."

"No," my brother interjects, his voice firm. "We have no interest in joining your society."

"Gabe," I caution under my breath.

He ignores me and continues. "We were doing very well for ourselves on the surface, actually. And we'd like to return there. With or without the rest of you. But if there's some way we can help restore the peace between humans and shadows, then we're damn well going to try. That's why we're here." He punctuates this by pointing his finger in the General's face, a gesture which immediately causes me to feel faint with anxiety. I waver a little on my feet, and Gabe pulls back his hand to wrap it around my waist in support, but it's too late.

The General is visibly insulted. He starts to stand.

"And if you don't want our help, well then, that's fine. But don't you dare paint us as some weak little kids who ran away from home and have come groveling back to mommy and daddy. We don't want your pity." Gabe practically spits the last word.

"Tell me, what did happen to your parents, anyway?" the General demands.

"They died," I respond meekly, cutting off Gabe with a hand on his chest. "In the attacks." I remember the tears we shed, not just that night, but this morning as well, and feel them pricking at the corners of my eyes once more. "Our mother was killed right in front of us."

The General stops. "But it didn't harm you?" He seems almost intrigued, now.

"No, sir."

"And what did you do then to stop it? The same thing as in the library?"

Gabe and I exchange a look. "No, sir," I respond, finally. "It... it didn't even look at us."

The General sits back down at his desk. "Fascinating," he remarks flatly. He thinks for a moment, then turns to one of the soldiers still standing by the door. "Lieutenant, please escort our guests to the holding cells."

"Yes, sir," he responds.

"Holding cells?" Gabe demands.

"Yes, of course. You violated the law by remaining on the surface. And you," he turns to Orion, "by returning to the surface as a civilian. Obviously, you'll all be put on trial and punished accordingly." He sits back, crossing his hands over his lap with a satisfied grin.

"What about my sister?" demands Orion.

"An accomplice, of course. That will be all, thank you." He dismisses us and the soldiers.

We're ushered out of the room at gunpoint by the two guards, who are clearly taking pleasure in this. As the door shuts, we hear the General call after us, "Oh, and thank you for the information. I'm sure it will be quite useful."

The men arrange us in two lines, boys first, each followed by their sister. Then they point their rifles at our backs and force us to walk slowly downstairs to what I can only assume is the military equivalent of a dungeon.

"If we so much as think you're going to run," they warn, "we'll shoot every last one of you."

We have no choice but to comply, as they march us into the so-called holding cells. They separate us from our siblings, just to be sadistic, placing me in a cell with Orion, and Gabe with Calista, locking the cell doors tightly and abandoning us to our fates.

I sink into the far corner of the tiny room, resting on the dirty floor. The cell is bare, four concrete walls with a single cot on one side, bolted to the wall, and a crude toilet next to that. I rest my head in my hands. Orion sits down next to me.

"Now what?" I ask.

"I don't know," he admits, resting his head on his knees.