“What happened?” John asked, staring at the broken wood of the chair that lay strewn across the floor.

  Zach looked down, seemingly finding the lie hidden between the splintered wood.

  “I felt a bit dizzy and fell into the chair. Stronger than I thought,” he finished with a weak smile.

  “Well, we’d better get going,” John said slowly. “You’ve, um, you said everything you needed to say?” He indicted his mother.

  “I did,” Zach said, glancing down at Eve Emery.

  He thought of telling John that she’d woken up, that he believed she was only sleeping now. But that didn’t seem right. What if he were wrong? It would be far better if she woke herself, and Ava or someone else from the Medical Function, informed them of the news.

  “Did you cut yourself?” John asked, his eyes finding the small spots of blood on the floor.

  Lucas’s blood.

  “I guess I did,” Zach lied. “It’s probably a small thing, under the jacket.”

  John looked as though he wanted to check the cut himself, but the awkwardness between father and son stopped him. He just gave a small nod, glanced longingly at his wife, and stepped out into the hallway.

  Zach glanced one more time at Oliver’s mother, willing her to wake up—and forget what she’d seen and heard, of course—but nothing happened. Her chest rose and fell in that same deep rhythm. He couldn’t fight the sudden, deep need he had for her to wake up.

  A need born from his own loss. For a minute, as he looked down on this complete stranger who was quite literally from another world, he saw someone else. He saw his own mother, though her face was blurred, and covered in the shadow of a forgotten memory.

  He had to pull himself from her side, an act that felt inexplicably difficult. He fought against the burning in his eyes and went straight for the door. John looked at him sadly, and for a moment, Zach cringed away from that look, from that pity.

  But he told himself it wasn’t done for his benefit. That was a father pitying his son. That was okay. There was no derision in that. That look didn’t really belong to him.

  “The meeting with the Functions will have to wait,” John suddenly announced. “The Head wants to see you first. The cart’s already outside.”

  “Heading out already?” Ava asked as she emerged from one of the classrooms.

  “We’re heading to the House,” John answered.

  His tone was softer than the last time he’d heard them speak to each other, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down for her. Zach refrained from looking in her direction altogether.

  The lights in the hall were now off, but the difference from being indoors and stepping out in the bright, sunny morning was still jarring. He winced and shielded his eyes even as they climbed the wagon.

  “We’re clear?” the driver asked.

  “Just go,” was John’s response.

  The cart rattled into motion, these wheels sounding a bit older than the cart they’d ridden on earlier. The driver led the cart down Buys Street before turning right into 1st.

  They were still in the residential area of the camp. There were people still flooding out of the apartment buildings here. Abruptly, he remembered from Oliver’s memories that there had only ever been one successful attack on Camp Twelve. But one was all it took.

  Many of those who’d lived in the houses on the edges of the old city had decided to band together, all of them moving to this part of the camp, believing the apocalypse called for a shared sense of humanity.

  Though there were still a few who stayed on the outskirts, but were still part of the camp.

  Oliver’s family had been part of the first group of people who’d moved into the then-abandoned apartment building they currently called home.

  Like before, there were buckets stacked before the building entrances. On his second tour of the place, Zach studied the architecture. The tops of all the buildings had been completed with a gentle upward curve.

  He hadn’t noticed before, but even the windows and door frames were all straight lines, except for the top line.

  Tettralis had been a Heptic nation, he remembered. The curves in their building designs were for their God. Like a hand stretched out in thanks for giving them the vision to build it.

  Zach shook his head. If Oliver’s memories were correct, there would be... He narrowed his eyes to the curve of the nearest building, and found the Heptic symbol for God fixed right in the middle.

  A cross with three dots running through its middle from left to right.

  His head started pounding, a severe headache right behind his eyes. He winced away from it, almost tripping over himself as he cringed back.

  “Oliver?” John asked. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine, it’s just a headache,” he answered. “I’ve been having a lot of them since I woke up.”

  That would help explain any future wincing John caught him doing.

  But what happened? I could use it longer last time before the headache came. Severity whispered of practice, something Noah had also mentioned doing with his String abilities. So, will that help with the headaches?

  “Any idea why she’d ask to see you?” John suddenly asked.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Zach looked up at him, something in his voice catching his attention.

  “The Head. Do you think it has to do with Leo?”

  With Leo?

  John interpreted the confused look on his face for something else. For a second, his face changed, a flash of a remembered hurt, of a shared hurt there one second and gone the next.

  “Never mind,” he quickly said. “I’m sorry I brought it up. But if she tries anything with you, call for me immediately, alright? I wasn’t there last time. I wasn’t there for Leo. But I’m here now. I promise.”

  Zach’s question died on his lips when John turned back to face him. Something in his eyes resonated with him on a deep level. Then it clicked. That was the torturous feeling of regret, of knowing you’d failed someone.

  Zach saw it in the way John hesitated, in the way his mouth opened and closed, in the way he couldn’t look at his son for more than a heartbeat. Zach felt his mind go immediately to Eve Emery and the feelings she brought regarding his own mother, his real mother, the one hidden behind that wall.

  His heart skipped a beat, his legs suddenly going weak, his stomach burning at the mere thought of Eve Emery and what she represented. He tore his own eyes away from John, back to the passing buildings, feeling as though he had to fight for every breath.

  The cart rolled down Cache Street, the people in the street oblivious to the inner torment Zach now felt. Oblivious, just as he was, to the conflict between John and Oliver, indeed between the entire Emery family, it seemed.

  Riding in that silence, the ride perhaps felt longer than it was. But they eventually arrived at the house. They rolled through the white, wooden-posted gate, up the driveway where years ago cars had driven, to the courtyard before the front door.

  There, the Head stood waiting for them, Kevin standing by her side. She had a smile on her face, but it looked out of place on that lined face where every wrinkle seemed to hide a million different emotions, none of them friendly.

  “Oliver,” she said, rushing in for an embrace the second he stepped off the wagon.

  Her woolen jersey held the soft, earthy scent Oliver had come to associate with his grandmother. Her faded blue jeans and ankle-length black boots were just as familiar today.

  While trying to remember their relationship, Zach went in for the hug, putting only as much emotion into it as she put into hers. Oliver’s memories told him that he’d responded correctly.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said, pulling back to study his face.

  “Me, too,” he said weakly.

  “John,” Kevin greeted coldly. In return, he got no more than the curtest of nods.

  “Why don’t we go inside, hm?” the Head asked.

  Zach nodded with a forced smile. There was something deeply unsettling about this woman. Like she was one second away from going ballistic. Indeed, Oliver had felt the same way.

  John took a single step before Kevin interjected. “You and I have to speak about the training you requested.”

  “Now?” John asked levelly.

  “Now. As you know, I get very busy, John. I’m not sure when else I’d be available.”

  The Head simply walked on, never acknowledging their conversation. She threw Zach a look over her shoulder, jerking her head to the door just as she said, “Come on, Oli.”

  Zach glanced at John, who gave him a gentle nod. ...if she tries anything with you, call for me immediately, alright? He swallowed, wondering what he was walking into, and followed her into the house.

  The Head turned right, walking into a large room with a single leather couch sitting atop a finely woven blue carpet. She went straight for the sideboard at the end of the room, pouring herself a glass of brown liquor.

  “So, you’re up,” she said, taking a sip from the glass. “Who would’ve thought?”

  She turned around, eyeing him carefully. “Why didn’t you run?”

  “Run?” he asked.

  She narrowed her eyes, carefully nursing her drink. “I knew your brother was lying, but I never thought it would’ve been you. Never mind the fact that you actually survived it.”

  “Lying?” he asked, genuinely confused.

  “Is that how you save yourself? Hm? By pretending it never happened? A coward’s way out, but then, cowards do tend to outlive the rest of us, don’t they? That’s fine. If you want to pretend it never happened, I’ll go along with it.”

  She walked over to the next wall, where a rifle finished in gold hung on two nails. Very strategically, she leaned against that wall, the rifle positioned just above her head. “I want to ask you something, and all I ask is that you be honest with me, understand?”

  What the hell is up with this family?

  “I understand.”

  “Back in the Dreamhold, is there anyone else who’s awake?”

  “No, no one that I saw.”

  She narrowed her eyes just a fraction. “I guess not, if you’re here and not beyond the camp. Second question, what can you do? What did you see?”

  She sipped from her glass as she awaited his answer.

  How much does she know?

  “Do? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She said nothing, swilling what smelled like whiskey about her mouth.

  “I don’t remember seeing anything,” he continued. “It was all black.”

  The corner of her lip went up in a crooked smile. She nodded slightly. “You’re not lying to me, are you, boy?”

  “No.” Ma’am, Oliver’s memories whispered. “No, ma’am.”

  Again, she settled back into that silence. As if she were perfectly capable of waiting for days on end if that was how long it took for him to say something.

  Did I come here before my execution? Does she know something about a grimoire I might’ve been using? Does she know anything about what happened to the original Oliver Emery?

  All of those were questions he wanted so badly to ask, for this was clearly a woman who knew things, but Noah’s cautions against the Emery family came to him just then. They seemed somewhat founded.

  She was already asking questions that were uncomfortably close to the truth. Zach had to get her away from this train of thought. Whether or not Oliver might’ve been so forward, he didn’t care.

  He asked the first question that came to mind, the question that would damn him the least.

  “What book did that man read from? The one who cleared me?”

  She didn’t miss a beat.

  “His name is B. Or, that’s what he goes by. As for what he read—I’d guess it’s something the lix worship back in Ospelia. I don’t buy for a minute that he was actually up North. Not with that thick accent of his.”

  She shook her head, taking another sip from her glass.

  “If you’ve got nothing to say, we’re done here, boy. When I made the suggestion that you join a Function, I thought you’d ask for it to be pushed to later. After being trapped in that building, I doubt you have the strength to go on like nothing happened. Or do you?”

  Zach swallowed. He’d already slipped up before he’d even seen her. It was confirmed right then. This was a dangerous woman. He kept his expression as calm as he could, and his voice leveled as he answered.

  “I want to forget about the hold. Getting into a Function is the best thing I can do right now.”

  “I guess it is, isn’t it?” she asked, with that half-smile of hers.

  Despite the age on her face, her hair was still a light brown as opposed to the silver it should’ve been. He studied her to keep his expression as clean and blank as he could.

  “I’m sure Kevin’s done with your father. You can go. Don’t want to keep him waiting for too long.”

  Without any hesitation, he turned for the door.

  “I’m happy you’re back, Oliver,” the Head added behind him. “I’ll be watching you. To make sure you’re safe, of course.”

  There was more than one way to take that, but both felt equally threatening. Still, he played her grandson and gave her a quick smile as he left the house.

  Would you find a character list, describing the cast and their relationship to the story, helpful now, or is it too early?