Sleeping

Chapter Seven

As Martha and I walked to what was they called the ‘Council Room’, I was fairly disturbed by the amount of guards were with us. Two on our sides, two in front, and two behind us—like I’m barely fourteen years old and handcuffed, for crying out loud, what am I gonna do? Martha seemed unfazed, however, as if she went around with six guards everywhere. Heck, maybe she does. I know nothing about these people other than the fact that they decided I was worthy of breakfast and that they haven’t killed me yet. That involuntary ‘yet’ echoed in my mind.

I tried to distract myself by attempting to figure out what I was on trial for. Being a kind of alien that I didn’t even know existed until now? Disturbing them? Was it all for show to appease the people who didn’t like the Isarians? Who do? Was this some kind of revenge for what the Isarians did to them? Was it because they figure they might as well kill me now before I can make more Isarians?

Okay, that last thought was probably more terrifying than this entire situation.

We all stopped at a set of double doors. Martha spoke, “Do you have any more questions?”

I thought. Yeah, I had a few. But the one that couldn’t really wait was, “What am I on trial for?”

“Existing.”

We arrived in a room that looked much like an actual courtroom. Well, other than the stone walls and ceiling that stretched into infinity. And it was gigantic. What I assumed to be the whole population of this place fit inside. Me, Martha, and the guards walked through an aisle to our seats. The guards still stood. The room was eerily quiet.

Leader-Man stood up from a long table with two other people on each side. I could now see he was older than he looked at first glance, probably in his mid-to-late 40s. Salt and pepper hair covered his head—but he still wore jeans and a tee-shirt as if this was a daily, tedious decision, like what to have for breakfast in the morning. This confused me for barely a second before he spoke. “Okay, let’s start this thing.”

I felt a momentary twinge of annoyance at his nonchalant attitude before I remembered that, to them, I was an alien, which I don’t think I can ever get used to.

Leader-man sat down. “So. Miss Snow…” he looked at me.

“Blanc. Snow Blanc.”

“You do know blanc means white in French, right? Because that is the most ironic thing I’ve ever heard. Have you seen yourself lately?” He laughed.

“Uncle!” Martha spoke up. Her petite voice echoed through the large room, making her sound louder than she really was. “That’s enough. We’re here to decide what to do about her. Not to mock the poor girl. She’s an Isarian, but I think she’s a Cross. And that would mean she came here because she was a Project,” She swallowed. “and as much as you might hate it, that means we’re on the same side.”

The room had been quiet enough to hear a pin drop before Martha spoke up—but now you could hear a thumbtack drop.

“Okay,” Leader-Man started, “Miss Snow, where were you before you came here? And I mean the whole thing. From as far back as you can remember. Ever.” He said the last word with such a sense of finality, it took me a second to respond.

But I began speaking—about growing up in Los Angeles with my mom, never knowing my dad, school, my friends—everything. No one dared interrupt me. I talked about what it was like while everything was dark, leading up to meeting Viola. The four months I spent underground with Viola until I heard her talking about killing me before I jumped through the trapdoor and met Ashley and Ashton when they saved me from those monsters. And then right to this very position.

“Ashley and Ashton. Come up here. You’re witnesses.” Leader-Man said. I turned around and watched them be plucked from the giant crowd and led up to what I assumed to be a witness stand by some guards. Ashley was first.

A woman on the end of the table and next to the witness stand stood up. “Ashley. What happened last night, when you snuck out of camp?” Everyone turned to Ashley and waited for her response.

“We just wanted to get out there and look around a bit. We’ve done it before—it’s exciting. But then we heard her scream and we thought ‘What if it’s someone who can help us?’ So we went looking for her.” I had screamed? I didn’t even remember that. She looked at me with pity. “It was actually Ashton who wanted to take her. But he’s my twin. I trust him. So if he thought something was the right thing to do, then it was. And she’s our age, so we both just…felt for her, I guess. So we helped her limp back to camp and you know the rest.”

She came down off the stand and stood off to the side. Then Ashton stood at the stand. He told roughly the same story until he got to the end. “….And it wasn’t her Abilities that made us help her. We’ve both been under the influence of mind-control, so we know what it feels like. It was completely our decision.”

The woman that had stood for their testimonies then called Martha up. Martha stood and made her way to the stand while Ashton went to stand next to his sister. What was he talking about? Abilities? Mind-control? Am I really that powerful? I suddenly understood why I was hated so much here.

“So, Martha,” Council-Lady began, “you’ve spent some time with the girl, what’s she like?”

“She’s not a spy.” A mixed murmur of agreement and dissent flowed through the crowd. “If anyone wanted information from us—which is highly unlikely anyway—they would send a human who they paid off. And they would put her somewhere where they know she would be found at the right time. And she asks too many questions. It’s too suspicious—a good spy waits until they’re trusted enough before they ask any questions. She was asking because she was genuinely curious. So in other words, she’s actually too obvious.”

Council-Lady looked dumbstruck. “Miss Blanc, witnesses, I’m going to have to ask you to leave now so the Council can make their decision.” She said, barely masking her contempt. Martha nodded and walked over to me along with Ashley and Ashton. The same six guards that walked us here surrounded us as we left the Council Room.

Once in the hallway, we were all silent for a few minutes. I took to pacing the hallway with a firm stone of anxiety and insecurity in my stomach. Right behind that door, they were deciding on my life. Finally, I decided to try and get some of those questions of mine answered. “So,” I began “Where exactly are we? Like where are all these caves and stuff? And how do you have electricity?”

“Well, we’re underneath southern Nevada.” Ashton said and I turned around. Ashley and Martha seemed like they were flirting with some guards.

“Wait. Like Area 51?” I said in disbelief. I guess Viola was lying when she said it was all made in old sewer lines.

“Yeah. Four hundred or so years ago, they tried to make Area 51 deeper.” He smiled at me.

“What do you mean, tried?”

“That was until they found out that by digging in here they were releasing deadly amounts of radiation.”

“And you know this, how exactly?”

“When we first set up shop here about a hundred years ago, we found all the bodies.” He made some creepy hand gestures.

“Seriously?”

“In fact, there’s still some h-here.” Ashton then (very dramatically) coughed, clutched at his throat, fell down, and mimed a dead person on the floor. He even stuck out his tongue. I smiled and laughed.

“Bravo! I would either clap or help you up, but…” I held up my cuffed wrists.

He stood up and we both laughed, Ashton showing off a perfectly white dimpled smile. “No problem. Your laugh is good enough.” And for just one second, I forgot. I forgot about the handcuffs and my trial and losing everything and was just here, now, laughing with a cute, jokey boy.