Chapter One: A Taste
Anastasia was a twenty something woman from the industrial city of Borgond. She had no last name; property of the Factories were never given names. And although she had been freed of the Factory she had called home, she was still a prisoner.
She was bound and gagged and thrust sideways onto a black mare now, the man who 'rescued' her from the Factory, holding the reigns. He had told her his name was Grey, right before he had bound her hands behind her back. He was strange, and Anastasia felt deep down that the man who had saved her was incomplete. He had stared at her with blazing red eyes, a fury present in them that she herself had kept hidden deep within her gut.
The Factories were hellish nightmares of places where you were kept hidden and tortured; subjected to the whims of the Doctors and made to fight other Colleagues. "Collies," the Doctors had called them, right before they ordered them to kill each other. Anastasia shuddered thinking about all the blood. All the empty eyes that had stared back at her.
She was lucky; a man had come to take her away and while he had treated her poorly, anything was better than the Factory that fueled such hatred and fed such madness. As the man called Grey shifted slightly in the saddle, Anastasia caught a glimpse of a tiny tattoo right below his left ear. It was a triangle with a series of numbers on one of its sides, a date on the other. Anastasia's eyes grew wide. "He's been upgraded," she thought, now understanding why she had found him so strange. Even though the Factory was a place of torture and death, it had also been a place of learning. The Doctors made sure each Collie knew the ins and outs of Dundona.
Upgraders were considered to be Elite humans; men and women (and sometimes, children) who chose to be outfitted with experimental cybernetics. These people were either poor or sick or some were said to be former captives of a Factory. The fatality rate for upgrade operations was said to be one in three.
When Anastasia was little and first learned of the Upgraded, she had hoped to the sky that one day she would get chosen for one of those operations. She knew of the death rate but still, she wished for it every night.
She knew that with the operation, one way or another, she would find freedom and her bloodied hands would be unbound from the Factory. Never did she think that ten years later, a man with blood red eyes, would whisk her away from the place.
Since Grey had kept her eyes unmasked, Anastasia was able to see high mountains pass by in the distance. She had never seen the outside before; she'd only ever read about the different climates and landscapes Dundona had to offer. But words could only say so much, and the sea of green that passed underneath them along with the cerealuean of the sky overhead, were so much more vivid than she imagined possible.
Grey had been rough with her, this much was evident with her current state, but he had done her a kindness, even if it had been unknowingly, and she thanked him silently from the bottom of her heart because this was the first time in a long time she had seen anything besides blood.
As she watched the sun dip below the hillside, she saw a vast sea unfold before her. Here, Grey slowed his mare and got off. He paid no mind to Anastasia, just walked his horse closer to the ocean.
"Time for a bit of rest, eh old girl," he mumbled, running a tan, slender hand over the ebony fur of his horse.
Anastasia watched, mesmerized by how gentle the hands that had bound her so roughly, could be used in such a kind way. And deep down, her inner goddess, wondered if those hands could ever show her that same kindness.
After a few moments of silence, a breeze blew around them, its invisible fingers tousling Grey's dark chocolate hair, his hands fumbling awakwardly to smooth the unruly strands back into place. Anastasia thought Grey looked almost childlike then. He must have felt her gaze on him because he squared off his shoulders, straightened his posture and turned towards Anastasia.
"I'll remove your gag if you're quiet," he said, his eyes like smoldering embers dotting the now dark skies.
Anastasia nodded and Grey removed the scarf from her mouth. For a moment, his forefinger brushed against her lip; his skin calloused and cool. His touch made Anastasia quiver, a feeling of wanting swirling deep inside her. She blushed at this, at how easily she could be stimulated. And by a stranger no less. Grey didn't seem to notice her shudder, that, or he didn't care enough to make note of it, and began to until that ropes that held her hands.
Each accidental touch of his fingers against her bare skin, sent electricity up her spine. She wanted to jerk away; it was just too much, too new, and too scary. Was this normal? Or was Anastasia different? She had always been told she was special. Is this what the Doctors had meant?
Once Grey had finished and Anastasia felt the normal pallor of her cheeks returning, she tried to hop off the horse. But her muscles were too stiff and exhausted. She teetered back and forth for a few moments before she slid right off. She braced herself for pain but felt none.
Instead, she felt the cool touch of the hands that had excited her so, wrap themselves around her, lifting her upright. And just as suddenly as she felt their gentle embrace, they disappeared, leaving her heart racing, her cheeks glowing the color of the communist manifesto.
"You're name's Anastasia," a deep syrupy voice growled from behind her. Her heartbeat quickened. She felt her knees begin to buckle and she reached a hand out towards the mare's flank for some stability. She didn't turn towards Grey. She couldn't. She could feel her excitement coloring her face, a lurid twinkle was surely present in her eyes. She couldn't let him see her like that.
He continued, "I've watched you for a while now."
At this declaration, Anastasia couldn't help but turn around. Her eyes met his. And for the first time, she really took him in. Tall, chiseled, muscular, drop dead gorgeous. She wondered if he'd had his looks upgraded when he had the operation. "How," she asked, trying to look away but finding herself unable to do so. The steadfastness with which he gazed upon her, free of judgement, made her want to run. He was dangerous, of this she was certain, but in what way?
"I merged with the security software at your Factory," he stated. His voice seemed so stoic, so freed of emotions. Maybe he had grown up mute and had the operation to get a voice modular? Anastasia's mind raced with all the possibilities of why Grey had chosen to be upgraded.
And then he spoke again, his voice snapping Anastasia free of her thoughts. "I'd been searching for you for a long time." Anastasia stood in shock.
So many things were happening to her so quickly. She had been freed, seen the outside for the first time on a horse, and met a man who spawned such an unrelenting desire within her, she had been sure she had succumbed to madness. And now her gorgeous rescuer with eyes the color of war, had told her he'd been searching for her.
"Why would you look for me? How did you even know I exist," she mumbled, her eyes focused on the ground. She couldn't stand Grey's gaze any longer.
"You're special, Anastasia. You're a child of the Factory. The 33rd child, to be exact, and I need you," he pleaded, his voice sounding far away. She looked up at him, his gaze focused on the sky above. In those scarlet eyes, she saw sadness, a deep eternal sadness. Grey looked so broken right then. Had the Factories made her that broken too, she wondered.
Just as she was about to ask him what he had meant, he turned towards her; seemingly having sensed her lips beginning to part. "I can't tell you anymore. There are… secrets needing to be kept." And then, as an afterthought, he added in a soft whisper, "It's easier that way."
Anastasia disagreed with him; she hated all the things that had been kept from her at the Factory, but she couldn't voice her disdain. Something about how Grey looked made her words get caught in her throat.
"Grey," she called, surprised by how frail her voice had become. He turned toward her and simply waited for her to continue. But the words never came. If I trust you, where will you lead me too? Anastasia was too afraid of the answer so instead she asked another question. "Mind if I go and clean myself off?" she looked toward the sea. Grey just nodded.
She had never felt the ocean before but as she felt the water splash against her feet she jolted upright. "It's cold," she exclaimed. But after a few moments to adjust, she found it comforting and the subtle way it crashed against her skin, refreshing. She walked further into the ocean until she was waist deep in its clear, crystal waters. Then she poured a couple of handfuls over her face and head, the filth washing off her.
As she did this, she looked up towards the moon. It hung low in the sky, and Anastasia felt as if she could reach up and grab it. And as she took a free hand and lifted it toward the moon, she felt relieved her childhood dream hadn't come true.
She never would have felt the ocean, had the wind run its way along her body, the sensation of her hair being whipped into her eyes, exhilarating. She never would have met Grey. It was then that she noticed she had begun crying.
"Tears," she said reaching a hand to her face, rubbing the warm wetness between her fingertips wondering when had been the last time she'd cried. Then, she turned towards the shore, looking at where Grey had been standing, though now he melted into the darkness. "Hey, Grey," she yelled. She continued, not waiting for his response, "If I go with you, will I be able to wash my hands free of all this blood?"
A few moments passed before she got a response.
"If you go with me," he said, his voice sullen and heartbreakingly honest, "I'll require you to spill more blood."
Anastasia sucked in a breath, icy and stagnant. It began choking her. More blood? Hadn't she done enough?
As she was getting lost in her thoughts, she heard Grey's voice again. "Anastasia, I need you…" he yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of some invisible sorrow that seemed to be strangling him.
Anastasia's tears flowed freely now, tears for herself and for Grey, and before she knew what she was doing, she was running back toward the shore, toward Grey. Soaked through and disheveled, a wet crying mass before the man who had given her her freedom, Anastasia collected herself, stood upright and gazing straight into Grey's eyes, told him, "I'll go with you."
She attempted a smile and the most vivid one she'd ever given anyone, appeared on her face, threatening to split her head in two. Grey just nodded and mounted his horse. He turned toward Anastasia and outstretched his hand. Without hesitation, she grabbed for it, welcoming the cool touch and calloused texture; taking her place behind him on the horse, this time as a partner and not as a hostage.
A glimmer of hope shot through her body and as she gazed one last time at the ocean, she believed that one day she could finally be free. Grey nudged the horse and it began moving forward, neither of its riders knowing where their journey would lead them. If only they had known...