Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) Read Free Page B

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 tried 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