Ayiana had ten minutes if she was lucky, but so far she had not been. She had two wounds as glaring proof. The shoulder was only a graze, nothing she couldn’t stitch herself. The gushing wound on her side was another worry all together; she held her hand tightly against it feeling blood seep between her fingers.
Ayiana could hear the sound of the authorities as they frantically pounded on the door to the roof. She pulled off the shoulder length wig of auburn hair, exposing the dramatic pixie cut of multiple colors. She dropped it, no longer any use having severed its purpose getting her into the ‘Hive’. Easy to slip past when everyone is afraid to look you in the eyes, she was a clone to the woman of a much higher stature. Brought into the world nothing more than an assistant, slave to the woman of her image. Things did not go as planned, when grown Ayiana was too independent…deemed…dysfunctional, and to be corrected.
If not for the rebels, she would have been just another vase of ash spread in the gardens. Fertilizer to help the flowers bloom. But fate had other plans for her and she could still see Byrnes big grin with his scruffy grey beard as he helped her from her bindings. ‘Great plans for you my flower blossom,” he said in his graveled voice.
Ayiana heard the crash, the sound of rustling feet as they charged toward her. She didn’t have to look; everything was so loud there had to be at least ten of them. So loud and distracting she almost didn’t hear the familiar graveled voice in her ear piece, “I’m here.”