Decadence: Chapter 1

Ever since the rumors started floating through the air, most citizens of New York had prudently taken to locking themselves  indoors as soon as the sun went down.  Instead of opting for safety, Abigail Malone had taken to looking for the threat the rest of the country was hiding from.  Around the same time, Leon Weller had taken to stalking Abigail Malone on a regular basis. 

Abigail was sitting cross-legged on the side of the grassy hill a few yards away from the chain-linked fence separating her from the residents of the compound.  This was the closest she dared to venture, even though the other side was completely lifeless in the early morning. 

Leon sat atop the hill in plain sight, watching as rays of orange and red began creeping over the dingy houses, and completely unconcerned with the possibility of Abigail spotting him.  If there was one thing he had learned in the past month of watching her, it was that she was unbearably oblivious of her surroundings.

Abigail was staring fixedly at one of the many security cameras perched atop the fence that kept a keen watch on the enclosure below.  She pondered for a moment how much excitement the security guard who kept tabs on the video tapes really got to experience.  And if he ever actually saw any of the Savages escape from their prison.

A distant beeping broke through both of their concentration and drew their eyes to their right.  A large cargo truck was backing into the entrance gate of the compound.  Abigail assumed it was full of food and water.  Possibly some clothing and medicine as well.

Leon watched too as the pair of government workers hopped out of the truck and went to work unloading crates from the truck.  Abigail was worried that the commotion of the workers would wake the sleeping Savages and draw them out of their living spaces to see her sitting right outside of their boarder.  She scurried backward a few feet, just to be safe.

Leon's eyes bulged slightly when he saw her make the sudden movement.  He dove behind the nearest bush instinctively to avoid being seen.  After she settled back down, he slowly crept back to where he was sitting seconds before and continued to observe with her.

He grinned when he saw her jump at the sound of her phone ringing from her pocket.  She quickly reached to silence it, knowing who was trying to reach her.

         No one would be calling her at four thirty in the morning except Felix North.  Knowing already what her future husband had to say and not caring to listen, she rejected the call and slid the phone back into the pocket of her jeans.

Judging by the position of the sun just above the horizon, Leon knew it was about time when Abigail would stand up, give the village one last inquisitive look, and make her way back through the deserted field to the taxi cab that she would call and instruct to wait for her at the outskirts of town to take her back home.  He stood and watched her for a few seconds with his hands on his hips before running his hand through his brown, messy hair and making a quiet exit.

Abigail continued to sit on the hill for several minutes before deciding it was time to go home and get ready for her interview.  While she walked the two miles to the nearest road, her mind never left the compound.

“If I could make a suggestion,” the gray-haired cab driver said timidly while she fastened herself into the back seat, “It's really not safe to wander into those parts alone, Miss Malone.  Not with all the horrible things they're saying...maybe you could start taking a fr--”

“I'm fine alone,” she said shortly.

He swallowed and muttered, “Yes, ma'am,” in an apologetic tone before driving her home in silence.

After three more missed calls, Abigail dialed Felix back before she would get into any trouble with him.

         “You're ready for your interview with my father at eight, right?” he asked with aggravation from the small screen on Abigail's phone.

         “Of course,” she said apathetically, running a hand through her  hair and letting it spill over her shoulder.

         “Abigail,” he scolded.

“What?”          

“This is very important.”

         “You always say that,” she countered, matching his irritation.

“You know how essential it is that you're given the same interview as every one else who wants into the university.”

“Felix,” she said skeptically, “you're the prince.  I'm betrothed to you.  There's no way in hell your father isn't letting me into his school.  Even if I couldn't spell my own name...or count to ten.  Or...if I thought Pluto was still a pl--”

“I get the point, thanks,”  he cut her off with a stern look.  “It's just a formality, Abigail.  I would appreciate it if, for once in your life, you would just do as you're asked without complaining.”

She gave him a defiant look before saying curtly, “See you at eight,” and hanging up.

         Dr. Malone, the leading biochemist in the country and single father of Abigail, was nowhere to be seen in his home.  He had been working sixteen-hour days since before his daughter could remember.  It wasn't because he needed the long workdays for the money; he worked so much because the king needed him.

         They had been working on an experimental drug for decades.  With Dr. Malone's help, they actually had a chance at making it effective some day very soon.

And that was the extent of knowledge anyone outside of the project was allowed to possess.

As can be seen easily, Abigail and her father were not close.  Mostly because they were never in the same place at the same time, but even if they ever did get to spend time together, they had virtually nothing in common to bond over.

Before she was even a teenager, Abigail determined that the only traits she had inherited from her father were his gray eyes and black hair.  Everything else, she could only assume came from her mother.

As she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, she received a video message from Dr. Malone.

“Make me proud, Abigail,” his serious face, full of premature wrinkles and worry lines, said from the screen as she stood in front of the dinning room mirror, pinning petite diamonds into her earlobes.

“I took the liberty of ordering a cab for you.  It should be waiting outside by the time you get this,” and his image vanished.

Before grabbing her bag, she took a long look at the pictures hanging on the wall next to the mirror.  That one spot on the wall was the only place in the entire house where one could find any evidence of Mrs. Malone and her son ever existing.

Their deaths weren't that unusual; Mrs. Malone had died giving birth to Abigail eighteen years ago.  Blaise had been in a fatal car crash fourteen years later.  Dr. Malone had gone through the entire house and removed all evidence of their lives when they died.  He tore down his wife's favorite paintings, threw away all of his son's awards and trophies, gave away all of their possessions, painted over the walls they had decorated, burned every single picture he could find of them.  Except the two that hung in plain sight in the dinning room.  Abigail had never been able to understand why he would go through such lengths to remove every trace of them, and then make their faces the first thing you'd see as soon as you entered the house.

She took in both of her dead family member's vibrant green eyes before giving a reluctant sigh and leaving.

Leon stood with his arms folded as he watched the cab pull up to the university entrance.  He was a safe distance away, tucked discretely in the shadow of the first few trees marking the end of the school's property and the beginning of a small forest.  He looked at the time on his phone to see, sure enough, it was a quarter to eight.  Abigail Malone was always fifteen minutes early.  Never earlier, never later.  He had seen her ignore many responsibilities of being who she was--such as being polite or pretending to care about the public--but punctuality was never one of them.

He watched her exit the cab and walk in her brisk, haughty walk to the gray octagonal building where she would undoubtedly be going to school for the next several years.  Not until the doors opened and she disappeared through them did Leon turn and leave for his own meeting that he was going to be late for.

Abigail tried to take in as much of the massive building as she could while being led to the office she was to be interviewed in.

She knew that New York City wasn't always the desolate, in-the-middle-of-nowhere type of place that it was now.  It was a busy, bustling city before the War, but now there wasn't a skyscraper in sight. She reckoned North University was probably the largest building within twenty miles.

When she was shown into the conference room where the interview was being held, she smiled politely at the three men sitting on the other side of a large, ovular meeting table in high-backed, luxurious looking chairs.  The type of furniture that screamed wealth and superiority.

         “Welcome, Abigail,” the king said after the door was shut behind her.  She took her place opposite them in a chair that looked pathetically plain compared to the others.  With dark brown hair, cold blue eyes, a square jaw and general air of complete dominance, Piers North did not come across as the type of king one would be smart to mess with.

         “You of course know my eldest son, Felix,” he gestured to his almost identical son on his right, who in turn stared seriously at Abigail.  He was trying to mentally will her into behaving herself.  Abigail had seen that stare many times before and knew exactly what he was doing.  “And I believe you have met our headmaster, Hans Otis, once or twice?” he gestured to the man on his left, who gave her a look that was meant to be condescending but instead made Abigail believe he might be trying to hold back a potentially nasty sneeze.  He was a rotund man with a balding head of tawny hair and beady brown eyes.

“Yes, of course,” Abigail nodded politely to the fat man, trying to keep from giving a condescending look of her own because she was conscious of Felix's sea green stare still boring into her.

“This is how your interview is going to work,” the king said, folding his hands on top of the table in front of himself.  Abigail unconsciously leaned forward slightly in anticipation. 

                                                                                                          ***

“She's in the interview right now,” Leon said to the council that sat in a circle around him.  The room was circular as well, hospital white and windowless.

“We sent Izzy and Charlie out a half hour ago,” Zeke Hunter said from off to his left. 

He was a bespectacled young man with mousy brown hair, a person of above average intelligence and was known for it among the group.

“They should be getting to her house right about now.”

“Good, it shouldn't take them long to remove all the wires.”

They had been listening in on the Malone family for about as long as Leon had been watching Abigail.  They hadn't learned much from the bugs, seeing as neither half of the family spent much time at home.  Now that Abigail would be moving to the university shortly, Leon had decided it was pointless to keep the tiny monitoring devices in place, and he knew they had to clear any trace of Perseus from the residency before the plan moved much further ahead.  In case something went wrong, there was no way he or Perseus could be linked to the Malone house.

Perseus.  Leon's grandfather had come up with that name for the rebellion organization when he founded it several decades ago.  He used to refer to the monarchy as Medusa, the monster beheaded by Perseus in Greek Mythology.  Leon's father was even fonder of the reference than his grandfather was, but after he was killed and Leon was pushed into the Leadership role at a tender age of fifteen, the reference had died out.  He didn't view the monarchy the same way his elders had.  If there was a mythological being he would compare the monarchy to, it wouldn't a lady with snakes for hair, it would be the Hecatonchires--monsters with a hundred hands and fifty heads--but that was a bit of a mouthful, so he kept it simple and didn't refer to them as anything but the royal family. 

                                                                                                                            ***

  “We're not going to interview you,” the king said matter-of-factly.  Abigail leaned back just as unconsciously as she had leaned forward before.  “However, there are some matters that have to be discussed today,” and she was instantly tense again.  “We need to address your stance on the Savages.”

“You already know how I f--” she cut herself short when Felix threw her a look of warning.  “I mean, what exactly do we need to clarify?”  she asked, laying down the obedience and politeness thick in her voice.  The king gave her a mildly suspicious look and she worried it might have been too much before he said,

“Tell us specifically why you think their disease is a more pressing matter than our isolation issue.”

                                                                                    ***

Ronan Hughes was sitting directly in front of Leon, arms crossed and a skeptical look pressed into his features.  “I've gotta tell you,” he began,  “I don't get the point of this,”  He had a stocky build and little patience when it came to the elaborate schemes Leon loved to weave.

“What don't you understand, Ronan?” Leon asked, prepared to give several good reasons for him to shut up and do as he said.

“It just seems so unnecessary.  We have Gabe and Damon on the inside already.  Just tell me what the girl can do that Gabe can't,” he demanded.

A ripple of agreement moved through the room at the mention of Gabe.  Leon couldn't deny the fact; Gabriel Lansing was good at what he did...when he was around.

“Gabe's been missing for two weeks,” Walter said grimly.  “For all we know, he's dead,”  Walter didn't have a last name.  He was the oldest person in the room, with a bald head full of liver spots and pale green eyes.

The mood of the room instantly dampened at his words.

“Don't say that,” A middle aged woman by the name of Maria Villarreal commanded.  “There are plenty of other possibilities...”

“It's Gabe,” Leon countered, “not Superman.  He's not invincible.  And until he decides to show up and prove otherwise, we have no choice but to write him off as gone.  That's why we need the girl now.  She can do what Gabe could, just because of who she is.  Hell, she could do more than Gabe could ever have dreamed just because of who she is.”

“All right, sure,”  Ronan said grudgingly, “but do you forget who she is?  How do you expect to convince her to do what we want?”

                                                                                                          ***

“Since the war, 20% of the population has been infected,” Abigail said to the king, leaning in towards him again.  “The numbers have been steady since the war--”

“Exactly,” Felix cut in, “Their condition hasn't changed at all over the years.”

“Their numbers haven't changed,” she repeated.  “Their condition is questionable.  They're treated poorly, so it wouldn't surprise me if a rebellion was started up sooner or later just based on that.”

“What do you mean?” The king asked quizzically.

“They aren't allowed out of their compounds.  You provide food, water, rags for clothing and some medicine.  It's a prison system.”

“We do that to protect both the Savages and our citizens.”

“The Savages don't understand that.  And besides, they're supposed to be just really unintelligent and socially inept, right?  Isn't that what the media explains the disease to be?”

“Yes.”

“We have plenty of idiotic, freakish and socially awkward people running around outside of the villages and they do just fine for themselves, don't they?”

“That's not the same.”

“But it kind of is,” she insisted.

“What exactly is your point?”  Felix demanded.

“My point is that being oppressed typically leads to hostility and rebellion.”

“You've been taking those rumors way too seriously.”

“No, I just think it's possible that they're true.  And if that's the case, they deserve to be provided with better assistance from us so they can recover and stop getting out of control.”

                                                                                          ***

“She sympathizes with the Cavemen,” Leon explained to his colleagues.  “She worries about them and she believes the rumors we started spreading about them sneaking out and killing people.”

“You think that's enough to get her on our side?”  the very clean-cut young man named Damon Calbare asked skeptically.

“It should be enough to get her interested, at least.”

“And what if it's not?”

“We use other methods.”

                                                                            ***

“But, please explain,” Felix began with an air of condescension, “how do you think--even if the rumors were true--that the Savages are more important than solving our isolation problem?”

“Because, Felix,” Abigail said snidely, forgetting she was in the presence of the king for a moment, “our economy is stable.  Our nation is stable.  We struggled for a long time when the Universal Embargo was first set into place, but we're not oil dependent anymore.  And because no other countries acknowledge us, that also means no other countries try to fight with us.  We grow our own food, make our own clothes, build our own vehicles.  And besides,” she added quickly when she noticed the unpleasant sneeze-face Otis was making again, “If we really needed them, the U.N. would never even consider accepting us back into the union if we have a bunch of Savages running amok.  If we fixed that problem, we would instantly have a higher chance at rejoining.  But I think we're better off now than we ever were.”

Otis looked at her blankly for a moment before scowling.  “Better off...” he scoffed.

“Yes.  Better off.  I don't see how you wouldn't agree with me,” she said to him.  “Unless this is a revenge issue.  A lot of people are still upset about it, so it's understandable that you would feel that way as well.”

Otis gasped obnoxiously at the accusation.

“I'm sure she didn't mean any disrespect by that, Headmaster,” Felix interjected quickly, throwing Abigail another sharp glance.

                                                                    ***

“Jett,” Leon said, moving on from the subject of the girl.  “I expect your assignment went well this morning?”

“Yes,” the man nodded.  He was in his mid thirties and had an unremarkable appearance.  “We caught and stuck fourteen of them.  We should be seeing results very soon.”

“Perfect.”

“I still think this is a bit much...I mean, just to convince her...?” Ronan started objecting again.

“Without the catalyst, we wouldn't have any leverage,” Leon said, irritation seeping into his voice.  “If we tell her the story about the Cavemen, and then the Cavemen just keep on doing their peaceful, boring thing, how do you think that would work out for us?  Rumors only go so far.  We need to give her visual evidence.”

“This is just a roundabout plan,” Ronan griped, “jumping through dozens of hoops, that's all you're doing right now.”

“Just shut up and go with it, won't you?” Theo Wall asked in exasperation.  He was a big, intimidating man of 6'5” with ebony skin and short dreadlocks of black hair.  Ronan threw him an irritated glance but stopped talking.  “It's not just about luring in the girl.  Eventually, we'll use it to pull in the rest of the country.”

“Council adjourned,” Leon said flatly before walking out of the room and eventually, out of the building.

                                                                ***

“You really have to start watching the way you speak around my father and other superiors,” Felix scolded Abigail as he walked her out of the school and down the paved path surrounded by fields of green on either side, both of them completely unaware of Leon's watchful gaze from the edge of the forest.

Queen Violet and her youngest son, Sage were in the grass close to the couple, Sage playing happily while his mother watched on.  When Sage noticed Abigail and Felix, he excitedly abandoned his toys to run to them.

“I know,” Abigail said apologetically as the cab rounded the corner.  Felix was scowling.  “Stop that,” she insisted.  He revealed only the slightest sm ile before bending down to kiss her.  Leon's lip curled in contempt as the child finally reached his brother and Abigail.

Sage was an enthusiastic little boy of eight years old who didn't look much like his brother.  His auburn hair matched his mother's and his eyes were blue like his father.

Leon watched on until he saw the girl high five the child, wave to the queen and stroke the prince's perfectly groomed hair before climbing into the car.  As soon as she disappeared from his sight, he was gone as well.

Abigail completed her drive home in silence, thinking of Felix the entire way.  She felt something was wrong, but couldn't place it.  It had been typical for the prince to become distant at times when he was particularly stressed out.  But his behavior that day was different than stress.  He seemed worried.  Or possibly angry.  Not at Abigail; he would have easily expressed it if she was the source of his problems.

No.  Something else was troubling him and the fact that he wouldn't confide in her about it made her uneasy.