Santa Monica, California
March 2006
She heard him before she saw him. He grumbled and slammed the freezer door shut. His footsteps down the hallway were shuffled and pained. He muttered to himself as he elbowed his way into the office.
He froze when he saw her. "You too?"
They both held ice packs to various body parts: George to his hip, Anna to her right shoulder.
"This training is no joke." She, George, and some of the others in the household had just returned from another morning training session with the society's weapons expert.
He grunted with agreement and gingerly eased into his chair. "I'd forgotten how heavy those swords are after a few hours."
"Why can't we use guns?"
He blinked at her like she was stupid. "Sabian likes his deaths quick, clean, and quiet. Guns make too much noise and leave bullets behind. We use them only in certain circumstances."
"Seems like a gun would be a lot quicker."
He sighed. "With enough training, you can make a quick death from a sword, too." He looked at her pointedly. "We have work to do, too much work to do..." The chair squeaked with his weight as he let himself fall back into it. He cast a downward glance at his desk and shoved some papers aside half-heartedly.
She handed him the binder, his life raft, with the daily, weekly, and monthly tasks and schedules. He shoved it, too, aside.
"You okay?" She'd never seen him like this before, so fresh out of grumbles, acerbic sarcasm, and orders.
He heaved a long, slow sigh. "I've been instructed to take you to the security center."
"Why?"
Normally, he would at least give her a scolding look at her constant questioning. His face was smooth and apathetic. "You must have done something. What was it this time?"
She scoffed. "This time? I've been good, George." She had, hadn't she? She ran through the rules in her mind. Things had actually been going well lately. She'd been playing her violin each night after they were dismissed from their duties. It was her only connection to her old life. It also tethered her to the life she yearned for. Home. Her family. The bright future she once had ahead of her.
Sabian seemed pleased with her, too. He'd even gifted her some composition paper so she could jot down the notes she played while she was "just messing around". He encouraged her to write her own pieces of music.
George lowered his voice. "Whatever you've done, Ricardo asked to see you about it." He stood and held out his hand. "I need that ice pack more than you do. Give it." She handed it over and lead the way down the hall to the security center. "Please behave. He's under a lot of stress right now. He's very touchy."
"That's an understatement."
George managed a small smile. "Don't take it so personally. He has a very heightened sense of loyalty."
"And that gives him the right to be a prick?"
"Shhh." He put a finger to his mouth and entered his code to the security door, holding it open for her once the little green light flashed.
Ricardo, Peter, and two other men sat at tables, their eyes focused on the monitors, their bodies bathed in the glow of the two-tone displays in front of them.
Ricardo turned to her. His neutral expression soured. "You. Sit." He motioned to the seat next to him.
A knot of dread began to twist inside her. This couldn't be good. She sat where he indicated. He looked back at the monitors as if he were too angry to look her in the eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Goldilocks Forever
Science Fiction*A man desperate to find his biological mother discovers she belonged to a secret society of people infected with a bizarre virus whose disastrous side effects she struggles to overcome.* In the year 2043, Beau Johan's only hope of surviving a termi...