Page 113 of The Order

Fallan readjusts his shirt, which had ridden up from me sitting on his lap, covering the array of scars on his back. My nails dig into the wooden floorboards, my frustrations rapidly growing.

“Took you a while to answer that door,” one of the men says, staring into the red flames of the fire.

“I was taking care of a few scrapes I got earlier today. Had some misdemeanors to answer for,” Fallan says, showing the men his lightly bruised side. His healing had progressed rapidly from the Cure-All, and I noticed his breathing was more manageable. “I can’t move as quickly as I’d like, given we don’t have the best sources of medicine in this sector. I had to put some natural remedies together,” Fallan says, looking at the potted plants of varying herbs crowded near his window. I guess it's safe to assume they’d think he’d been putting together some herbal remedies for his wounds.

“Misdemeanors? Of what kind,” the men push. Fallan ponders the question, keeping a relaxed position against his wall.

“Talked back to an Official about touching something that wasn’t his. He wasn’t amused,” Fallan says, his hair falling into his face as his mouth pulls into a smirk. The muscles in his arms move as he crosses them across his chest. The men seem to wait for Fallan to continue, wanting him to say something more which would give them an excuse to lash out.

“Did you see any strange activity in the building earlier?” one of the men questions, knocking down a few of Fallan’s paintings, hoping to get a reaction.

“Other than you two busting down doors?” Fallan questions. One of the men moves closer to the bed as he continues trashing things around the room. Fallan moves away from his position by the door. “Last time I checked, the only strange activity is you coming in here and trashing my place with no explanation as to why,” Fallan finishes, both of us watching as the Official stops himself from taking another step closer to where I'm hidden. I clench my hand atop my mouth. If I wanted to, I’m close enough to drag the Official under here with me.

“So, you've seen nothing?”

“Like I told you,” Fallan says, pointing to his kitchen counter filled with jars of herbs, “I've been busy.”

“Well, medicine man, maybe you can help us in another matter then.”

The Official, who’s been hellbent on destroying everything in the room, pulls out his phone. Images of me and my brother appear on the screen. They are our school photos from this year. My hair has significantly more brown than gray and my eyes seem more alive. Kai looks the same, still sporting his full head of curls. I look at the text label below the images.

“Silent?”I question to Fallan through the connection, unsure how long my father has known of our absence. Just one tap into Kai’s chip, and it's all over for us.

“What am I looking at here? Who are these people?” Fallan questions, sounding as convincing as ever.

“The Official's Head Coordinator, Andrew Blackburn, has two children who seem to have gone silent. Most likely, it’s just two teens sneaking off with their friends to have some fun, but regardless, our superior instructed us to show their faces around this slum hole to see if anyone recognizes them.”

“Wasting resources looking for two high schoolers doesn’t seem like normal Official business,” Fallan says.

“That’s because it’s not. But here we are,” one of the men says, the other fidgeting with his Re-Regulation Device. Fallan’s chip blinks green, his body reacting naturally to the pain the code creates in his skull. I feel the tendrils of his chip buzzing to life through our connection, the immense pressure from the device making it difficult to stay still and not reveal my hiding spot. I force a wave an energy down our bond to try and help Fallan withstand the mental assault.

“So, I’ll ask you again, this time hopefully you can answer with less of your shitty attitude. Have you seen these two faces around here before?” he questions, holding the device out toward Fallan.

Fallan pretends to adjust to the command, blinking away a fake haze.

“No… I haven't,” he whispers, staggering back as the code runs its course. The man quickly slips away his device, watching Fallan’s hand pass over his face as he rubs his eyes.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Fallan questions, playing up his confusion.

“Nothing that matters,” one of the men says, pulling his prod free from its holster. “But last time I checked, Cure-All wasn’t allowed in this sector,” he continues, pointing to the bottle of Cure-All I had foolishly left on the side table.

The man takes a step toward Fallan. My energy is drained after giving him so much. I envision the man moving toward Fallan having broken ankles, wanting nothing more than to hear them-

Crack.

The man drops his prod as he grips his ankle. My mark throbs with painful heat and I'm unable to control the noise that comes out of my mouth. I silently curse under my breath, watching both Officials snap their heads toward the bed. The one with a twisted ankle points toward me, hissing in pain as he directs his partner in my direction.

“There's someone under there!”

“Fuck me,” I whisper, knowing what needs to be done.

I roll out from under the bed, watching their faces grow pale with confusion. My hand is already reaching for the first thing I can find to use as a weapon. The one unharmed Official steps toward me, already reaching for his Re-Regulation Device. Fallan lowers his head, looking at both men. I ready myself to throw a punch, rearing back my arm with a clenched fist.

“Adam told us you were trouble,” the man on the floor hisses.

I step back as the Official closest to me falls to his knees, his eyes closed as his mouth hangs open. I look back to his wailing partner, now still as his face holds a similar expression. Fallan’s eyes look different now, a brighter blue than normal. He draws in deep breaths before his eyes land on me.

“I can’t hold them for long. Grab the Re-Regulation Device,” Fallan says, his face straining in concentration. I dart to the Official holding the device and yank it free from his grip.

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