The Unaffected

➠1.2

as he grabs my arm, I glance at his face. He's young, about nineteen. His hair is in a buzz cut, a pale color. His face is also pale, and so are his small grey eyes. He's muscular, and he would probably be menacing to most people. But he isn't too me. He's just so young, his aggressiveness nervously in-your-face. looking, so short, in his little black suit. He's Unaffected. I wonder how long he's been serving the aliens. Probably a long time. So his life must not have been nearly as difficult as mine.

He glares at me, but I don't look down. I'm not letting this baby soldier scare me.

"You look really ridiculous in that suit," I tell him. And he says nothing, just grabs my arm roughly and pulls me along a bright white unadorned corridor. I follow along, trying to keep up so my shoulder doesn't get dislocated.

Along the way to wherever, I try to coax him into giving me some information. "Strong and silent, huh? Hot."

He scowls at me. "Do you ever shut up?" He has a rather generic American accent.

"Of course I do," I respond. Then I'm silent for a few minutes. "See? I shut up."

He just keeps frowning at me. And although he doesn't say anything, I know he dislikes me. Maybe I can befriend him and get myself out of here. Because I am getting the hell out of this shithole, and I'm taking Ella, John, and Tom with me.

"So," I ask. "What rank of soldier are you? I'm pretty interested in soldiery or whatever."

"You're just trying to get information out of me," he says. "You don't give a shit about "soldiery or whatever"."

"Why do you say that?" I ask, faking innocence. I debate whether or not to bat my eyelashes, but it would seem rather obvious if I did.

"Because whatever you've tried to do, someone else already has.

I shrug.

He's silent for the rest of the walk.

When we reach a metal door, he opens it with a remote and shoves me inside.

An alien stands there. She(I think it's a she) has swamp-green skin, bloodred hair, dull brown eyes. She's almost as tall as the boy, muscular, spotless posture, with spotless posture. She wears a navy robe that does not flatter her at all, and a cold looking metal crown upon her head.

The man, who I decide to call Baby Soldier, stands up straight and passes a hand across his face. "Queen Portia."

She nods, then looks at me. "Well, now you're to go through a test, little Earthling. It won't hurt a bit." She speaks with a proper English accent. I think it suits her haughty disposal.

"Okay. What do I do now?" I try to keep my voice bored sounding, hide my nervousness. It probably works unless aliens can magically read emotions.

"First, what is your name?" she asks.

"Etheldredda," I respond.

"No, your real name. Do not test my patience."

I hold back a laugh. Do not test my patience. "Scar. I'm Scar."

"Very well. Come." She leads me to a machine. "Put your hand here." "Here" is a metal tray. Everything here seems to be metal.

I do what she says.

Immediately the tray heats up, and a meter next to it starts to rise. I laugh, because the meter reads "Power Meter". This really is like some bad sci-fi movie.

I think the meter's limit is ten, and it's gone up to three so far. I wonder how far it has to be to get me killed. I pray and pray that I'm not powerful. That this isn't fiction, because if it was, the meter'd probably explode. Therefore getting me killed.

Please stay at three, I think. It seems to go past it for a brief moment, and then goes back down to about three.

And it doesn't move. Not for about five minutes. I think it's five minutes, anyway, but it feels like thirty-two.

"Not powerful at all," she says, seemingly disappointed. "She's not the Hundredth."

Baby Soldier nods. "Obviously."

"The hell are you two on about?" I ask curiously.

Queen Portia laughs, and pulls me off the tray. My hand seems to stick. Odd.

"Take her back," she orders. He does the pass-hand-across-face thing, and pulls me out of the room.

"So what's this thing about numbers?" I ask.

"The birth order of the Unaffecteds. There are only a hundred of you."

"Are you one?" I ask.

He doesn't answer.

"Fine then, ignore me. I love being ignored." I roll my eyes.

We reach my cell, and Baby Soldier shoves me inside.

"Bye!" I call. He closes the door.

I sit against the wall and take a deep breath. That was a lot of concealment, even for me. It's pretty tiring.

"What level?" John asks.

"Three."

Ella laughs. "You've nothing to worry about then. The rest of us scored from four to six. To be so powerful that you have to get killed, you have to score an eight or higher."

I nod in relief. My mind's racing. I know how to play this game now. Hide everything. Lie.

That's something I'm good at.

✶✶

when I wake up, probably the next day, nothing in the cell has changed. The others are awake, talking. I don't feel like joining them.

I wonder if that Baby Soldier guy is really an Unaffected. But if he was, why would he (or any human) join the aliens? Whatever it is they want can't be good.

How many tests will there be? I think. They worry me. What if I am powerful?

"Scar? Don't worry. You're can't change in power level. You're safe," Ella says. She must have been watching me. Am I that transparent?

I smile over at her.

What could my friends be doing right now? Chrissy, Clapton, and the others. They didn't need me, so much as they needed each individual in the Wolf Pack.

But I needed them.

And now, I can't be with them anymore. They'll probably be dead before I escape - which looks less and less likely every minute. I look at the red light and wonder if I could turn it off.

But I'm sure the others before me have tried. And I'm no more intelligent or resourceful than any of them.

I look up at the ceiling. I'm so, so tired, I think. And then I fall asleep.