Twinflower

I got caught.

How or why weren’t important, I’d been booked for stupider feats. It was a new prison though, a bigger one, with stone towers and gates of barbed wire built into what could’ve been a castle before Colonel Bernhardt and the Jores destroyed the world.

The jumpsuits were grey, not orange, which was better for my complexion anyways. The cool prisoners got a nifty collar with a red light that flashed in their face, even when trying to sleep, and pinched if they got too close to the doors. It made me long for the loose little heart locket I normally wore.

“What’d they get you for?”

My cell mate had a thick layer of tattoos that she probably thought hid the fact that she was a teen. When I looked at her, she scowled.

“Something ghastly.”

The cot squeaked as she stood.

“Did you kill someone?”

“Did you?”

“No.” She jutted her chin. “I stole a tank.”

“So you can drive? Perfect. For a second there, I was worried you were underage. Do you have a razor?”

She blinked in shock but nodded. I grabbed a blanket and tore it in half as she pulled the blade, still dripping with saliva. I shoved part of the blanket into the collar, then grabbed the nasty razor with the other.

“Lovely. My mouth is too sensitive for razors, unfortunately. But I’m an amazing kisser.”

She blushed. Called it.

As I lifted it to my collar, her eyes widened.

“Wait,” she said. “Won’t it-“

As I sliced, the collar shot electricity down my spine, making my muscles spaz even with the blanket there to absorb it. I clenched my jaw so I wouldn’t scream but my teeth chattered. My hand vibrated, my fingers numb, but the collar loosened.

Almost there. The razor nicked my skin as it ripped but I’d take blood to shocks any day. I wiped it away.

The girl gaped. “Who are you?”

I stomped on the collar, extinguishing the red light. “Some call me Seven Knives.” I handed the razor back to her. “My friends, actually, although it’d be a cool nickname for my enemies. What’s your name?”

“Lena.”

Almost Linnea. She didn’t remind me much of her though.

“Well, Lena,” I said, “my real name is Kiera. Do you wanna get out of here?”

*

The nickname came as a proclamation from Linnea. Most of what she said were proclamations. Her voice was loud, even when she didn’t try, usually meaning she was the life of the party until someone tried to gossip with her.

But she tried this time. She stood on the couch’s skeleton, cushion-less as we awaited a delivery, and pointed an empty poster tube.

“I shall dub thee Seven Knives,” she said, assuming the voice of a medieval knight.

I was in the kitchen, balancing two plates on one hand while I switched off the stove. “What? Why?”

She giggled. “That’s how many it takes you to make a sandwich because you keep putting them in the sink.”

My face turned a deep scarlet, which only made her laugh harder. We were young and stupid, two students moving into our first apartment together.

God, that was three years ago. Would she recognize me now? With the scar on my cheek from an officer’s blade and the dagger tattoo on my finger from a lost bet?

I wanted to think she’d be proud. She’d given me the locket and now I’d finish this war that stole our lives. Our apartment. Our couch. Then I’d find her.

I’d grill peanut butter and honey sandwiches, just like we ate on our bare couch as we ignored the breaking news reports of violence during our anime marathon. And I’d only use one knife.

If only to spite her.

*

These prisons were all the same. They took earrings, bobby pins, and paper clips I “forgot” in my pockets. But they never suspected hair ties.

I’d destroyed six and escaped six more. Lucky number thirteen to break the tie.

After jamming the door’s automatic lock with the signal blocker disguised as a pink ponytail holder, it went offline long enough to slide a few inches.

Unfortunately, as the case was, the malfunction alerted the emergency security system. As I helped Lena out, the lights turned red and a siren blared.

She flinched, almost covering her ears. “I thought you said we would get out undetected.”

“We did.” I pointed to the door but she focused on the stairwell at the hall’s end. “Oh, I meant out of the cell. Yeah, this-“ I motioned to the alarms—“this always happens.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, erasing the line shaved through one, but she followed me. The cells were built into a wall like kennels, lined with metal walkways and stairs like a fire escape.

I was always on the top floor because that’s where they put the cool kids. Actually, it was probably because my last name is Zoric. In grade school’s alphabetical lines, it was a curse, but it came in handy in prison escapes.

The air ducts loomed overhead, ending with a switched-off fan because they hated us. I gave Lena a boost.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

The shouting guards rumbled on the staircase below.

“Nope.”

I nudged her and she jumped to the lowest bar covering the fan. I winced but like a little spider monkey, she shimmied to the top. She gave me a thumbs up and I leapt after her.

“Three rules of air ducts,” I said, once we both clung above the ten-story drop. “Don’t eat the dust, cobwebs, or mouse droppings.” I ducked past her but paused. “Oh, and don’t get shot. That’s a general rule though, not specific to ducts.”

Lena’s eyes probably widened, but it was hard to tell with the flashing red lights. I scampered along the dusty tube, squinting and reminding myself to add a fourth rule about not getting dust in your eyes. Below, the guards unleashed warning shots.

Or maybe they were real shots. It was hard to tell when they missed.

The duct ended in the wall by the windows. I jumped to the windowsill and Lena launched herself after me. I caught her arm as she slipped. For a small person, she had a grip of steel, at least when facing certain doom.

“And now for the easy-“

I kicked the window and my foot ricocheted, not even leaving a dent from my heel. I gritted my teeth. Oh, come on. That’s the security measure they upgraded? Ballistic glass.

“Ugh! Stupid window.” I banged my foot on each syllable.

A gunshot split the air, leaving a small crack in the glass as it bounced off. Well, that could work.

I positioned myself in the window’s light. Get ready to zag, Linnea said in my head. She tried to train me in basic self-defense when we moved to the frontlines but I hated zagging. The shortest distance between myself and safety was a straight line, why should I give more chances to hit me by zagging?

But I listened, and when the bullet hit the window instead of my slippery self, it lodged into the glass. I kicked the crack and it burst, letting in a gust of cold air.

“Thanks for the assist!” I waved to the guards before following Lena onto the roof.

She shivered, her eyes wrinkled with worry. She needed something to do. A row of tanks loomed across the courtyard and I grinned.

“Hey, Lena, what kind of tank did you steal?”

She flashed me a smirk.

“Bring it to the man building,” I said. “I’ll meet you there. And don’t forget to zag.”

As she slid down the storm drain, I ran across the roof. Normally, I’d use the prison’s security fence as cover, but staying in the open meant they’d focus on me instead of Lena.

Was this what motherhood felt like? Running on the outside of low-voltage pickets to keep her safe? I really shouldn’t have gotten attached to Lena but she could have a rank in the Defenders’ army after this, and that created a proud bubble in my chest.

It popped when I reached the building, where Colonel Bernhardt sat at the warden’s desk. Well, crap. He’d even left the window ajar. I scowled but dropped to the second-floor ledge and kicked my way in.

The locket was open, the petals spilled. A lump rose in my throat and I struck a fighting stance as Colonel Bernhardt glanced up. He was stone-faced.

“Took you long enough, Ms. Zoric” he said, shaking his head. “You usually escape faster than this. I’ve been here three days.”

The door was locked and I let myself relax. If he attacked, I could take him, but the old man seemed perfectly comfortable behind the desk. He even smoked a cigarette, hovering it precariously over the petals.

“You found my locket,” I said.

“I did,” he said, “but I must say I’m confused. I thought these held pictures.”

“They hold memories.”

He pinched an intact petal. “Memories?”

“Twinflowers.” I swallowed hard. “Linnaea borealis.”

“Linnea.”

I sneered when he said her name, and he grinned. His teeth were rotten from smoke, and probably from being a massive schmuck his whole life too.

“That’s pretty,” he said. “Sounds like a pretty name for a silly little girl.”

“You don’t get to talk about her like-“

I clenched my fists but stopped after a couple steps as his finger perched to tap ash onto the ashes. He looked smug about it too. But Lena wasn’t there yet. I’d have to retract my previous maternal instinct if I didn’t ensure she escaped.

I don’t go back on my word.

“Why are you here this time, Kiera?” He checked his files as though he didn’t know.

“Drunk and disorderly.”

“This says ‘punching a Jore officer.’”

“Yes, but I was drunk and it was a disorderly punch.”

He tsked, shaking his head. “Shame. Your record shows you were a bright student, who could’ve had a bright future with the Jores. Now you and your beloved’s locket keep ending up in decimated prisons, and I need to know why.” He leaned over the heart, and the petals and powder still inside. “There’s no mechanism. No buttons. And you weren’t arrested with anything else.”

The low rumbling of a tank rolling across gravel shook the room as Bernhardt glared at the locket. Oh man, this was going to be close.

“Please,” I said, hiding a shake in my voice. “It’s just a locket.”

“Is it?”

His lighter blazed, ready to light another cigarette. Someone below the window shouted but Bernhardt’s attention was on me.

“The locket… the flowers… it’s all I have left of her. Please don’t take it away.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

The answer didn’t matter because he dropped the lighter into the petals, igniting them. I shrugged as the rumbling paused below the window.

“Because Linnea hid more than just petals. It’s explosives. And there’s a lot of it.”

His face fell as I jumped out the window, nearly slipping off the tank as I landed. I dropped inside and Lena closed the top amidst a flurry of screams from inside the prison.

“What now?” she asked, a bit panicked for someone who claimed to have done this before.

“Drive.”

The informations building exploded behind us.

*

My neck felt naked. When we got to camp, I told Lena to park by the supply tent and give me a minute. The box sat by the door, the tape now curled from age. On the front, Linnea’s loopy handwriting could almost take me back to our apartment.

But instead of books or dishes, it read,

To 7 Knives, my love.

I grabbed a locket from within.

“You were much better at this,” I muttered, draping the chain. “Another down. I’ll finish this for you.”