Undetectables

‘RUN. BRIELLE, YOU HAVE TO GO NOW, THERE’S NO TIME. GET YOUR SISTER AND RUN.’ “Earth to Brielle?” Gabriella quizzed, waving a hand in front of my face. Her face contorted in a mixture of frustration and annoyance. Gabriella was the coworker tasked with training me at my new job. I blinked a few times, trying to focus. My heart was racing, the sound thumping in my head like a drum. I can’t go back to that moment right now. If I allowed myself to stay in that memory, I’d fall apart. I needed this job. I need to support us until I can figure out what the next step is. “Sorry, uhm, my mind sort of went somewhere else there.” It did that more often than I’d like to admit. A certain sound or smell can take me back. The word run, though, was the hardest. The sounds of my mother’s screams were burned into my mind. Her voice, screaming to run, was my last memory of her. The look of agony within her pleading eyes as she begged me to take my sister and run. I felt unshed tears burning my eyes and I knew I had to stop. I had to be strong. She rolled her eyes, “Well, focus because I don’t want to have to go over this more than once. You don’t want to run the machines for more than a few seconds at a time. They can be pretty finicky, and between Frappuccino's and smoothies, you do not want to break the blenders,” she explained, clearly annoyed by my distraction. “Gotcha. Don’t break the blenders. Easy enough.” “Our customers come here for the blended beverages because we offer over thirty varieties of them. You should study the recipes because it’s going to make your life a lot easier. A few of the regulars are very particular about their drinks,” she added. Gabriella was a few years older than me, nearing her thirties. She had worked at the coffee shop for the past two years while she went back to school. Her chocolate brown hair mirrored her deep brown eyes. Her nose was narrow, almost sharp, while she had large plush lips that I silently wondered whether or not she'd gotten injections for them to look like that. She stood maybe five feet tall, but I’d guess she was shorter. I towered over her by what felt like an entire foot. She was thin and almost child-like, where I was tall and slightly curvy. She continued walking me through the different coffee machines, but my mind had already traveled to the darkest day of my life and I couldn’t shake the fiery pain that had spread through my chest from the memory. I feel like it creeps in during my worst moments. Snapshots of that dreadful day are like an old film. All in black and white. Snap. Snap. Snap. Each one like a picture, clicking to the next scene. Grief was like a disease. A cancer. You can’t ignore it. You can’t fight it. You just have to find a way to live with it. And I mean live, as in your heart beating, because what I do, I wouldn’t really call it living anymore. “How exactly did you manage to get this job?” Gabriella muttered. “Did I miss something?” I thought I was hiding my feelings well, but apparently not. Hiding. That was all I did anymore. At least it felt that way. “I’m not going to babysit you. Piper may have felt bad for you and your pity story, but I don’t. You’re easily replaceable. Now pay attention or you’ll be out of a job before you even start,” she barked. ‘She’s quite the bitch.’ Noted. Gabriella may be small, but she didn’t mess around. I needed to stay on her good side while we worked here. Piper was my boss and the owner of The Busy Bean. She was a kind, middle-aged woman. She’d started this coffee shop with her husband about fifteen years ago. Unfortunately, humans were flawed creatures, her husband being no exception. He’d cheated on her with someone much younger and they’d ended up divorcing. She was able to keep the business, while he left on a yacht with his new wife. She’d never skipped a day of work through it all and I envied her positive attitude. I spent the rest of the day trying not to break the blenders, which was surprisingly harder than it sounded. I found that five-second intervals were my safest bet and not a moment longer. My memory was a strong suit and after making a drink once, I didn’t need to refer back to the recipe. They had started me on a Wednesday, which happened to be their slowest day of the week, though I still found it to be fairly busy. By the end of my shift, I had counted thirty-seven Frappuccino's, twenty-three coffees, and seventeen smoothies. I had to remake six of them, which I would consider a win. I’d only burnt three bagels during my shift, which surprised Gabriella. I waved goodbye to her, though she ignored me entirely, and headed back to our apartment, which was a short ten minutes away from the coffee shop. Opening the door to the coffee shop, I was hit with the whipping of icy rain. Washington was nasty this time of year. The weather was typically cold and wet, with the sun barely shining more than a few hours a month. I sighed, throwing the hood to my jacket up, hoping that it shielded my clothes from being soaked through by the time I made it back. Though it wouldn’t affect me in the sense of getting sick, it would surely be an inconvenience. I’d gotten really good at blending in, but Bailey, not so much. She didn’t have the same insurance that I did. I was one of the “undetectables”. That’s what they called the wolves that were scentless. We were virtually undetectable in a world that was eradicating the werewolf. It’s been three years since the government began their attack on our kind. The “Eradication” was what they called it. The United States was no longer safe while the werewolf roamed free among their kind. Humans, that is. They didn’t consider us equals. We were animals or beasts, and nothing more. Not all humans agreed with the government’s plan, but those who chose to fight against them, were punished. If you were found assisting a werewolf in any way, it was punishable by death. I rushed through the doorway, slamming it behind me. The sound of water sloshed in my now soggy shoes. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I ignored the frustration that grew inside of me. I hated this place. It wasn’t home. Crimson River was home. Colorado was home. Washington, was just a blip in our timeline. But those places are only a distant memory now. Our future was in Canada. It was the closest place to the United States that was safe. I prayed to the goddess that we’d make it there soon. “B, I’m home from work,” I shouted into the silence.