Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) Read online

  I don’t want to stand out.

  A cry of pain escapes my lips and passes through every inch of me until it gets to the point where I can no longer bear it. It’s too much.

  I can’t take it.

  A tremor rolls over my hand, weakening my grip on the stylus. It falls clumsily from my fingers, clattering loudly onto the tiled floor—the sound acting like a trigger as everything around me instantly goes black.

  WHEN I OPEN MY EYES, I’m no longer in the classroom. Somehow . . . impossibly . . . I’m someplace else altogether.

  I turn around in my seat. The pain that I felt before is now gone, however, it’s been replaced by emotions I have no hope of controlling.

  Fear.

  Confusion.

  Disbelief.

  My eyes widen as they all attack me at once, overpowering the part of my brain that might actually be able to comprehend what’s happening.

  Is this a dream? A hallucination?

  Whatever it is, I’m frightened—that much I can say with certainty.

  My legs quake as I rise to my feet, my fingers clutching at the chair to hold me to the one thing I know is real in all of this.

  A strong wind blows past me, and I can feel bits of debris as they graze across my skin. The air is full of dust. Yet, in spite of the impairing fog, I’m able to recognize where I am. I know this place. After all, I’ve lived here my whole life. Except the city that I’m so familiar with is drastically different from the one I see before me now.

  The scene of destruction that surrounds me is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. There are no people. No lights. There isn’t a single sign of life. There’s only me, standing here all alone as everything crumbles into nonexistence.

  The panic that hits me is overwhelming. I can practically feel it boiling beneath my skin. It consumes every inch of me until it feels as if my sanity will abandon me at any moment. I want to close my eyes—to shut out the havoc taking place around me. But no matter how hard I try, I’m forced to watch every passing second.

  To see what I can only assume must be the end of the world.

  I swallow as I fearfully take a step forward. The gravel and debris crunch beneath my feet, but some unseen force stops me from taking a single step farther. Hesitantly, I reach out my hand.

  A loud gasp bursts from my lungs when I’m suddenly ripped away from my body—torn from my ruined surroundings until I’m seeing the city from overhead. The air whips around me as the buildings steadily grow smaller, shrinking.

  Shrinking.

  In less than a minute, I’m floating above the entire planet. Except, I’m not here. I’m somehow outside of myself, witnessing the end of all life, including my own.

  In the blink of an eye, the destruction I saw up-close seems to explode, devouring everything in a single, obliterating mouthful.

  All I see is a blinding flash before I find myself back in the safety of the classroom. Sweat trickles from every uncovered inch of my skin, and I can hear a horrible screaming sound, which I realize, after many moments, is actually coming from me. The sound of it is inhuman, and it takes everything I have to stop it and regain control over the parts of my body that are unable to separate reality from the horror I’ve just seen.

  Clenching my eyes shut, I try to steady my breathing. My lungs seem to be working at double speed, and every breath is physically exhausting to the point where it’s nearly painful.

  In. Out. In. Out. I repeat those words to myself until I no longer have to consciously monitor each breath. However, when my eyes eventually open, that crippling feeling of panic all too quickly suffocates me once again.

  Every eye in the room is focused on me. I turn in place, taking in the one expression that seems to cover each face.

  My lungs constrict as the sweat continues to bead along my skin. I feel hot, as if every molecule in my body is on fire, and I immediately recognize the metallic stench in my nose as blood.

  My hand shakes as I lift it to my face, and my eyes twitch nervously when I see the red coating my fingers.

  My heart rate increases. My breaths seem deafening.

  I can’t stay here. That realization is enough to finally force me to move. Lunging forward, I slam my hand against the submit button on the top corner of my desktop without a plan or even a thought as to what I’m doing.

  Without registering the consequences that will surely follow me because of it.

  Ripping my bag off the chair, my legs dart toward the exit. There’s a small scanner in the doorway, which is cold against my wrist, and the doors instantly spring open once that little light turns green.

  The locks click back into place behind me. I can hear the sound as it echoes in my head, just as I can still feel the stares of every single person in that room.

  Their confused gazes seem to follow me, even as I rush down the corridor. I try to ignore the feeling and concentrate on the path that will lead me out of here.

  I come to a grinding halt in front of the elevator. My palm stings painfully when I slap it against the call button. Luckily, the doors open at once.

  “Excuse me, miss!” the woman with short hair calls after me.

  Ignoring her, I hurry inside, only feeling distanced from all those eyes the moment the doors close behind me. I take a long, deep breath. However, I can’t escape the reality of what I imagine is about to happen.

  I bite my lip and glance up at the elevator doors, where I find my distorted reflection staring back at me from the steel. My skin is ashen and glistens sickeningly with sweat. My hair is plastered to my head. My eyes are so bloodshot that I can’t even see the white. Red smears stain the bottom half of my face.

  Pulling at the sleeve of my coat, I press the material against my nose in an effort to staunch the bleeding. My eyes dart back up to my disfigured reflection.

  The seconds seem to drag, and the silence is foreboding, reminding me of the unknown fate that awaits me the moment these doors open. I don’t know what to expect. Truthfully, I wasn’t even thinking when I ran out of that room. I should’ve composed myself and finished my exam. Second chances aren’t given, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that my behavior before will come back to haunt me. Second chances don’t exist.

  This won’t be forgiven.

  The light above the elevator doors begins to glow. I brace myself. Yet, when the steel doors open, I’m surprised to see that the reception area is empty. The man from before is still sitting behind the desk, but other than that, he’s entirely alone. He doesn’t say anything to me either. In fact, he doesn’t even look up when I begin to walk past him.

  I hesitate, unsure if it’s smart to go any farther and wondering if I should just turn myself in now.

  Peering out through the glass doors, my eyes lock on the one thing standing between me and the way out.

  I glance back at the man. When he still doesn’t speak, my feet instinctively pull me forward. I burst through the double doors, my body racing toward the turnstile where all I have to do is prick my finger. A little blood, that’s it, and then I can escape.

  I don’t even register the pain. It’s fleeting, and I’m too focused on getting out of here to really care about anything else.

  I can sense the security guards watching me as I run out of the building, but no one does anything to try to stop me. I’m not sure why. Perhaps we’ve grown so accustomed to our conformity that we don’t know how to react to anything unusual anymore.

  The cold air hits my face the moment I’m through the revolving doors, but I’m too preoccupied with my fear to be able to enjoy it. It doesn’t escape my notice how everyone is looking at me either. I can only imagine what they’re thinking.

  Squeezing the sleeve of my coat, I press it even harder against my face. I can still feel the blood as it drips from my nose, but I’m too scared to pull my hand away and assess the damage.

  The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

  Fear. That’s the one reason I’ve always trie
d to play by the rules. So I could avoid the inevitable punishment that would arise if I didn’t.

  Don’t stand out. Blend in. Remain invisible . . . .

  Unfortunately, it’s too late for that now.

  The damage is done.

  I hurry down the main road and swiftly retrace my steps into Central Station. The turnstile beeps when I scan my card across the machine. I thrust my body through the gate as soon as it opens.

  I don’t have to wait long for the next train. When it arrives, I rush onboard, trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

  Easier said than done.

  I shrink into my seat to hide from the lingering stares of the other passengers, only daring to move when the train approaches my stop.

  For the first time in my life, I don’t politely wait my turn. I push through the crowd around me, ignoring the disgruntled complaints as I make my way onto the platform.

  In. Out. In. Out. My breaths are haggard, and although I know that’s only because of the coat against my face, I'm too afraid to move it away. I try to breathe through the thick material, telling myself to concentrate on this one simple task until I’m safely back home.

  I encounter fewer people on this leg of the journey. It’s a huge relief since maybe that means there won't be any more witnesses to this whole ordeal. I keep my head down as I walk, moving as fast as I can without attracting any unwanted attention. Fortunately, no one says anything or seems to notice me at all.

  When I finally turn onto my street, I’m overjoyed to find that it’s completely deserted. I glance up. I can see my family’s designated living quarters just two blocks down. It’s a welcome sight after everything that’s happened today, and I find myself instinctively picking up the pace, hurrying toward the sanctuary it seems to offer.

  Our home is one in a row of terraced houses. We’re fortunate enough to live in Zone 2—one of the wealthier areas of the city—but our quarters were downsized a number of years ago due to the shrinking size of my family. I don’t have any siblings and my father . . . . Well, he’s not around anymore.

  It’s just Mother and me now. We only have each other.

  I sprint up the steps, skipping two at a time, and sweep my wrist against the locked panel awaiting me at the top. It unlocks as soon as it registers my chip. Throwing myself inside, I immediately slam the door shut behind me.

  My heart is racing in my chest, and my hands tremble where they remain planted against the glass and steel frame. I close my eyes as I lean back against it, allowing myself a minute to catch my breath.

  It’s strange. I know I’m in trouble—or if I’m not already, I’m going to be very soon. Yet, now that I’m home, I can’t help but feel better about everything that’s happened. Almost as if the outside world can no longer touch me.

  I inhale deeply, and after a few moments, I take a step forward. However, an unexpected feeling of dread suddenly freezes me in place.

  Something isn't right.

  The hallway is dark, which I find unusual. Normally, the lights are all on.

  “Mother?” I call out.

  My footsteps reverberate off the tiled floor as I creep down the corridor. Despite the surrounding emptiness, I can’t escape the feeling that I’m not the only one here. After a few more careful steps, I notice a faint glimmer coming from the end of the hall.

  I abruptly stop walking when I hear the muffled sound of voices.

  “Mother?” I call again.

  “I’m in the reception room,” she answers.

  I’m relieved to hear her voice, and any doubts I have seem to instantly vanish. I scramble forward, first having the sense to check in a mirror to see if my nose has stopped bleeding. It has, although I still look ghostly pale.

  Hopefully, she won’t notice.

  I scrub my sleeve across my face to erase the last remnants of blood. Then, without further delay, I turn the corner into the reception room.

  My entire body goes still, except for my heart, which now jumps into my throat, making it impossible to breathe. My eyes dart back and forth, glancing between the two men seated on either side of my mother.

  Not just any men. Enforcers.

  The very last people I could ever hope to encounter.

  All three pairs of eyes are fixed on me. Unblinking. Unmoving.

  I know without asking why they’re here.

  I would like to say it surprises me how quickly they’ve acted, but it doesn’t. They’re always quick. They’re always efficient, handling anyone who might possibly pose a threat.

  But am I really a threat? I just had a panic attack, that’s all. Sure, I didn’t finish my exam, but is that really so bad?

  I can tell that it’s as bad as I fear when the Enforcers rise to their feet. My mother stands alongside them, and it’s as if she’s a different person than the woman I’ve known these past twenty-one years. As I stare at her, I’m taken aback by the cold distance in her eyes. The way she looks at me . . .

  I’ve only ever seen that expression on her face once before.

  “There’s nowhere to go, Wynter,” she murmurs, her tone eerily calm. “Submit.”

  My eyes widen, and those feelings of fear and confusion hit me all over again, shattering my brief illusion of invincibility. I shake my head in disbelief, my feet faltering beneath me when I take a step back.

  Something solid stands behind me. Surprised, I turn around, only to find a third man I didn’t notice before staring down at me. But he’s not an Enforcer. He’s someone else.

  A stranger dressed in a white laboratory coat.

  I barely have time to react before he plunges a syringe into the side of my neck.

  My surroundings begin to blur as everything around me goes hazy. Even my body feels weirdly heavy as if gravity is trying to crush me to the ground. I can feel myself swaying. I try to reach out to my mother, but she doesn’t reach back.

  Help me, I plead, but the words don't pass my lips.

  When my knees eventually buckle beneath me, all I can hear is the sound of her voice.

  “Do what you must,” she says.

  A GROAN RISES FROM MY throat as my eyes sluggishly open. The light on the other side is excruciatingly bright, and I can’t help but wince, lurching back as if I’ve been burned by a flame. I try, time and again, to see past the glare, but my vision is bleary.

  All I can make out is white.

  The plodding of footsteps enters my range of hearing. They’re dull at first. Distant. Gradually growing louder as I become more aware of the people around me. The trouble is that I don’t know who they are. I don’t know why I’m here.

  I don’t know where I am.

  I try to make sense of the last thing I remember. I see my mother. I see the two Enforcers as well as that third unknown man. I can even recall the feel of the needle in my neck. However, everything after that is lost in the hazy black hole of unconsciousness—right up until the moment when I woke up here.

  Wherever here is.

  After a while, my vision adjusts, bringing the room into focus one detail at a time. My entire body feels groggy as I attempt to push myself up, but for some reason, I can barely move. I try to shift each limb separately, but nothing happens. My every movement is constricted.

  Confused, I glance down, and it’s only when I see the restraints that I’m actually able to feel them. My heart begins to pound, nearly bursting from my chest as I pull against the steel bands holding me in place. But nothing works. The restraints don’t budge.

  I blink several times, trying to get my erratic breathing under control. A feeling of panic washes over me, and with each breath, I inch closer to what’s bound to be my breaking point.

  I very nearly reach that point when I finally look around me.

  A white hospital gown clothes my body, which is strapped to a metal table in the middle of an unfamiliar room. The table is nearly vertical, tilted just enough so that I can only see the ceiling when I lean back. As I scan my surrounding
s, I notice that aside from a small section of empty floor in front of me, the space is composed of countless rows of machines—including a heart monitor beeping beside my head.

  I swallow. The air catches in my lungs and my eyes widen when I see the tubes protruding from my arms. A surge of hysteria begins to rush through me, taking full command of my body. Within seconds, I’m thrashing against the table like a wild animal being held in captivity against its will.

  The panic has taken over, and the only thing I care about is getting out of here. I don’t need to know why I’m here. I don’t need to know what they’re doing to me.

  I just need to get out.

  “The subject is awake.”

  I freeze as soon as I hear the woman’s voice. Hesitantly, I look up. At least a dozen people, all wearing white coats, stand in front of me—the same white coat as the one worn by the man who drugged me before.

  My confusion is overwhelming, but the fear is even worse. My eyes dart between the many faces staring back at me. They all seem overly interested—curious even. One man scribbles down notes on a computerized tablet while a woman on my right grabs something off a table. As she turns around, my heart drops when I see the syringe in her hand.

  She takes a step toward me, and instinctively, I struggle against my restraints. But just like before, nothing works. I’m completely powerless. I can’t even fight back when she twists my arm and pushes the needle into the crook of my elbow.

  I grimace, but the sharp sting doesn’t last long. A deep red begins to flow from my vein into the container attached to the syringe. I watch as she takes three vials worth of blood, all the while refusing to look at me. Upon finishing, she removes the needle and tapes a small bandage across my punctured skin.

  She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even glance at me. I’m still reeling from whatever I was injected with before, so it takes an extreme amount of concentration to follow her movements as she crosses the room.

  I narrow my eyes, trying to bring her blurred figure into focus. I observe her fingers tapping against the surface of a table—a computer like the desktop I used at W. P. Headquarters.