The Captive (Sacrisvita Book 6) Page 4

  A brittle, brown leaf. A sign of fall. And a clue to her location. She’d never seen a tree inside the gates of Eprah before—at least not with this kind of leaf. This leaf belonged to a big tree, one that sprawled too wide, too tall, too much for the neat, orderly manner of Eprah’s perfectly manicured courtyards and ornamental gardens.

  Her brows gathered together as she remembered the hint of mud she’d seen earlier on Sam’s shoes. There wasn’t much reason to encounter soil inside Eprah’s gates either—not unless a citizen worked as a landscaper. Given the amount of time Sam spent watching over her, bringing her food, helping with her lessons—it was highly unlikely that was his job.

  A smile spread over her face. Now she could be sure of one more thing.

  She wasn’t inside the city anymore.

  7. A GIFT

  Sage shook her head in disbelief, going over her epiphany for the hundredth time as her legs swung back and forth over the edge of her bed. Why hadn’t she realized it before?

  If she could escape this place, she might really be free. Really free. For whatever reason, she was already outside of the city, clearly outside of the Institution’s gates, and her bracelet hadn’t told the zeptobes to put her into a coma. Maybe it would if she tried to escape, but she couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t completely give up hope. It was all she had left.

  Once she was free from this place, she could live in the woods for a few years, safe from the madness of Eprah’s laws. Then, when she was old enough, she could venture back into the city without arousing suspicion, find other Lawless, and rejoin the fight.

  Her stomach turned at the thought of leaving others behind—especially leaving Lita without a hope of rescue, but there wasn’t much she could do on her own to save her, and she couldn’t bear the thought of willingly turning herself over to the Institution again—not when she’d been held captive in this place for so long. And after she’d been gone for so long, would they even allow her to return to her level? Or would she be cast aside, stuck in a shunning because she hadn’t been learning alongside her peers?

  She shuddered. If she could figure out a way out of this place, maybe she could figure out a way to help Lita too. First things first, though. She had to find a way out.

  The soft padding of footsteps approaching snapped her from her thoughts.

  She glanced down and clutched the leaf against her chest for only an instant longer before stuffing it inside her pocket. Despite her efforts to treat it gently, it had grown much smaller by now, bits of it flaking off every time she handled it. All the same, she’d looked at it every single day, considering it a promise of what lay outside the walls of her prison. She couldn’t be sure what Sam would say if he saw it, but she didn’t think it would go well for her.

  A clang echoed throughout her room as the door opened, letting in a stream of light that fell across the same pocket where Sage had hidden the leaf. She shifted her weight, turning slightly to the side. She hoped he hadn’t seen its outline in her pocket.

  Sam balanced a tray of food in one hand as he swung the door closed behind him.

  “Dinner.”

  Sage folded her legs under her and grabbed at the tray.

  “Thanks,” she said, shoveling food into her mouth. “I was really—” she swallowed, “hungry today.”

  He nodded in affirmation as he reached for the empty chair in the corner of the room. Picking it up, he set it just in front of the door and sat down, watching from behind his mask as she wolfed down the meal.

  His presence during dinner no longer unnerved her like it had when she’d first been taken. In fact, she’d become eerily accustomed to her silent dinner guest. She’d even managed to have a few short conversations with him between bites—but that was before she’d pushed him too hard and he’d clammed up permanently.

  Still, that didn’t stop her from attempting to make a bit of small talk as she ate.

  “So,” she began, unchewed food rolling around in her mouth, “math’s not so terrible anymore.” She paused to wash down her squash with a swig of water. “I guess you’re a good teacher.”

  She eyed him uncertainly, waiting to see how he’d react. Her comment had only elicited a small nod, but that was still better than nothing.

  Encouraged by the slight response, she pressed on. “It was pretty chilly when I was outside yesterday…” she trailed off as she took another sip of water. “The jacket you gave me was a little light. Think I could get another one? A heavier one for winter?” she hesitated, fork paused mid-air. “Unless you’re not planning on keeping me here through the winter?” She raised a questioning eyebrow at Sam.

  “You’ll have a new coat tomorrow,” he said brusquely, sitting as rigidly as ever.

  The fact that he had chosen not to answer her other question didn’t go unnoticed. Sage felt her resolve crumbling. They were never going to let her go.

  “I wish I knew how long I’ve been here,” she muttered, her thoughts spilling out before she could stop them. Her poor judgment continued as her eyes flitted up to Sam. “Can you—” she hesitated. She wanted an answer, but based on his icy posture, she knew better than to finish the question.

  “Sage.” A tone of warning crept into his voice as he said her name.

  “I know.” She sighed. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  She stabbed at the remaining scraps on her plate, finishing them in silence as she avoided eye contact with Sam.

  “I don’t really have a lot of questions for you tonight,” she said, pushing her tray away from her.

  “That’s actually good.” He nodded. “We have other plans for today.” He pulled a large silver sheet out of his jacket pocket. Swiping his hand across its smooth surface, he positioned it parallel with the floor, holding it still for a moment. As Sage watched him run a finger along one of its edges, delicate tendrils unfurled and billowed downward, turning into thin, rigid legs as soon as they touched the floor.

  “What is that?” Sage gaped at the delicate table in front of her.

  “It’s a portable tech table.”

  Sage could’ve sworn she heard Sam smile. She bristled a little at the idea that he might somehow find her confusion amusing, but she continued staring uncertainly at the unusual object in front of her.

  “It’s not that complicated.” He swept his hand just over the surface of the table without actually touching it. “See?”

  A mirror image of Sage flickered above the table. She gasped, surprised to see herself staring back at her. As she leaned in closer, her doppelganger mimicked her, tilting forward. She stuck out her tongue and then tapped her fingers in the air against their three-dimensional counterparts.

  “It’s a basic program,” Sam explained. “Today, you get to learn how to program a video loop.”

  Sage suddenly dropped her finger from its perch against itself. “What?” Her mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious. I’ve never used a tech table before.”

  “That’s why you’re going to learn,” he said firmly, beckoning her to stand.

  She groaned and reluctantly pulled herself to her feet. “Can’t we go back to math?” she whined.

  “It’s not hard.” He dismissed the second Sage with another wave of his hand. “Pay close attention. You’ll be doing this next.”

  His fingers slid across the table’s smooth surface, leaving a trail of light behind each movement as he called up an unfamiliar view, something that appeared to be a box with knobs all over it. Sage didn’t even realize what she was looking at until he began poking at it, peeling back one layer after another.

  “The control panel,” she breathed softly. She’d seen Bruggs messing with a similar one before in the tech room, and he’d offered her a short explanation before shooing her away.

  “Yes.” Sam nodded, his fingers still moving through the air.

  “Is that how you normally do it?” She craned her neck forward in fascination.

  “Not so close!” H
e stopped and put a hand on Sage’s shoulder, pushing her backward slightly. “Your nose almost touched it.”

  “Oh.”

  “And to answer your question, yes, that’s how I normally do it.” He pinched his fingers together and then opened them slowly as he mashed his hand down on the table, shrinking the image and then spinning it. “There’s a faster way, but it’s much more limited, and you should learn the best way to do things from the outset. I’ll show you the shortcut later.”

  After making a few more similarly confusing motions and sending bits of the control panel flying into the air, he stopped abruptly.

  “Alright, it’s time to record the loop.”

  “The loop?”

  He sighed. “Just… make faces or do Bokja for a few seconds or something. It really doesn’t matter, just make it distinct.”

  She furrowed her brow.

  “Go.” He pointed at her.

  A wave of indecision crashed over her. It was odd that she felt so much pressure about something so unimportant, but she stood frozen in her spot for several seconds without so much as blinking.

  Sam cocked his head. “Sage?”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Wasn’t ready.”

  “Ready now?”

  “Sure,” she said unconvincingly.

  He paused. “Ok. Just start. I’ll record once you’re going.”

  “Uh, ok,” she stammered.

  She stared awkwardly at Sam for another moment before composing herself, then threw her arms up into the air, flailing around in an impromptu dance and tossing in a few quick Bokja forms for good measure.

  “That was fine,” Sam said as he motioned for her to stop. He strummed his fingers through the images over the table once more. Sage’s twin appeared again, but this time, she duplicated the movements Sage had just performed. After about ten seconds, the figure repeated her routine from the beginning.

  Sage stared at her reflection in fascination. “Do I really look like that?” She didn’t expect Sam to answer, so she was surprised to hear a quiet snort behind his mask. She shot him a look of irritation.

  “Now, it’s your turn,” he said, nodding for her to take his place.

  “Uh, I’m not sure I—”

  “I’ll walk you through it,” he said hurriedly before she could finish protesting. Taking a step to the side, he looked at her expectantly.

  She hesitated, balling up her fists nervously before taking her place behind the table.

  “How do I start it?”

  “Do you remember what I did first?”

  Sage frowned. She hated when he answered her questions with more questions.

  “I think you—” she slid her fingers along the table, “—did something like that?”

  “Close,” he nodded. “It’s a standard start pattern. Here.”

  Sage tilted her head, mesmerized by the light-formed pattern his fingers brought to the surface. “It looks like a flower.”

  He shrugged. “Eh, a little, I guess.” He swept his hand through the air again, knocking down the image of the control panel he’d just pulled up, and then nodded at her again. “Now you.”

  Sucking in her breath, she stepped back up to the table and traced her fingers along its surface, mimicking the pattern she’d just seen him make.

  “Good.” He nodded. “Now enter the command.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “I don’t remember what you did.”

  “You remember more than you realize.” He shook his head. “What’s the first thing I did?”

  Sage bit her lip and stared at the panel. “I’m not…” she trailed off as she reached toward one of the knobs to turn it. It was a strange sensation, trying to grip something visible but intangible.

  “That’s the right one,” Sam said encouragingly. “Just don’t touch your fingers together. Act like it’s really there when you grab it. Like this.” He demonstrated the motion in the empty air beside the tech table.

  Shooting him an uncertain look, Sage copied his action. The exterior wall of the panel fell away, starting a cascade of new images. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she continued reaching into the air, triggering the next steps with only the occasional redirection from Sam.

  When it appeared that she’d virtually dismantled the control panel, Sam held up a hand to stop her from going any further.

  “You’re done. It’s ready to record again now.”

  “Ok.” She turned to him nervously. “Your turn?” Snapping her mouth closed quickly, she instantly found herself wishing that she hadn’t made that suggestion—or at least that she could see the expression on his face. It seemed like he was in a good mood today, but she was worried that request might have pushed him too far.

  To her surprise, he nodded. “You have to start the recording. Did you see how to?”

  Her brows furrowed as she studied the projection in front of her.

  “Here?”

  “Uh-huh. Alright. Start it.”

  Sam began gesturing awkwardly with his arms. Giggling, Sage touched the top corner of the table to begin the recording. She gawked at his jerky movements for awhile until he finally dropped his arms to his sides and looked at her.

  “Sage?”

  “Yeah?” His tone caused her heart to leap into her throat.

  “You only need about ten seconds of recording for the loop.”

  “Oh! Sorry…” she reached toward the controls. “I got distracted.”

  The real version of Sam stood still as his double flickered to life above the table, repeating the rough routine he’d just done. His sequence was much longer than Sage’s had been.

  “Looks like you did it,” he said, ignoring the already-looping performance. “Now, stop the loop and reset it. Right there. Good.”

  The image above the table flickered from view. Sage grinned and dropped her hand back to her side. She hadn’t expected this to be fun.

  “I think you have a good grasp on this for now.” Moving toward the door, he added, “I’m going to leave this with you for awhile so that you can practice. We’ll begin working on more skills once you’ve got this down without any of my help.”

  “Oh—ok,” Sage stammered, starting to chew her lip. This new assignment was unexpected, and she wasn’t confident she could replicate the sequence without Sam’s assistance.

  “You’ll be fine,” Sam said dismissively. “We can go over any questions you have tomorrow.” He paused with his hand on the door, facing away from Sage. “By the way, happy birthday.” His voice caught slightly with the words, but he didn’t stick around. The door closed quickly behind him.

  Her mouth dropped open. Today was her birthday? She hadn’t even known. Obviously, she hadn’t done a very good job keeping track of the days.

  If it was her birthday, that meant she was thirteen now. But nothing had really changed. She was still in her own personal prison without explanation, but at least now she knew what day it was.

  In a way, Sam had given her a gift. He’d finally told her how long she’d been held captive, given her the smallest bit of information, even after warning her not to ask.

  She should be grateful.

  Anger bubbled beneath her skin at the thought. Grateful? Some gift. This was just one more manipulation, one more secret that had been kept from her. She had no way of knowing if Sam was even telling the truth. Either way, it just confirmed that she’d been there way too long. Living like this with no answers, no purpose—it was no way to live.

  She had to find a way out, even if it cost her everything.

  8. CUT

  Sage flicked her fingers through the air without thinking. The exterior of the virtual control panel tumbled away, revealing one layer after another as she executed another new program. She barely noticed. Her gaze pierced straight through the images in front of her, absentmindedly landing on the empty breakfast tray in front of her as she continued maneuvering through the sequence.

  Her ability to use the tech table had grown quite a
bit since her first introduction to it. Of course, it certainly didn’t hurt that Sam allowed her to practice with it in the evenings, and she’d even begun exploring new functions that he hadn’t taught her yet.

  As exciting as that might have been under different circumstances, she couldn’t bring herself to care too much about her new skills. Sure, it was great that she was staying in Sam’s good graces by being a quick study, but her real focus was centered squarely on never needing to be in his good graces again.

  She was more determined than ever to break free of this prison, ready to risk everything. The scariest part was not knowing what they’d do to her if they caught her trying to escape. Her imprisonment had been filled with threats, but she hadn’t dared slip up enough to find out exactly how her captors would make good on them.

  Sam had thrown her across the room the first time—the only time—she’d tried to run. And based on the time it took to recover and the resulting pain, she guessed the impact had bruised her ribs and shoulders—not exactly something she wished to repeat. Her eye twitched at the memory.

  No. Another escape attempt would need to be well thought out. Planned. Carefully executed. Decisive.

  But she was still missing something she needed. Something sharp, capable of making cuts. Of course, there was nothing like that in her room. Sam wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have allowed her to have anything that could have been used as a weapon against him.

  Despite combing through her small space hundreds of times, she hadn’t found anything suitable. It was infuriating. She was beginning to lose hope that she’d find something, worried that she’d have to make yet another compromise in her plans, making it all the more likely that something would go wrong.

  Sighing, she drew her eyes back to the tech table and mashed the images flat beneath her hand, making them disappear. Focusing was nearly impossible. She needed to clear her thoughts.