“The fairy’s name is Erica Swiftfield,” Matt says, spraying crumbs as he talks. “She’s been quite involved in the resistance so far. She’s pretty nice once you get to know her.”
I groan inwardly. I have no desire to get to know her any better.
“She’s also lethal with a bow and arrow,” he adds.
“What’s with the color-changing wings?” Right now they’re a deep maroon.
“Oh, you noticed that?” Matt pulls the crust off his roll. “It’s an interesting little quirk of hers; they change color according to her mood.”
“That must be... awkward.” I wonder what mood the russet oranges, deep reds and purples reflect now that she’s talking to Joe.
“I guess, if you can figure out the pattern.” Matt uses his roll to spoon soup into his mouth. “I’m so relieved you’re finally here.” Matt looks up from his meal and wipes his adorable moustache away with a sleeve, then he runs a finger along the back of my hand, gently at first, before prodding harder.
I laugh and swat him away. “I’m real! You don’t need to pinch me.”
“Good.” Matt grins. “Because circumstances have a habit of changing too quickly around here.” The grin slips away.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m worried about Lyla. She’s not strong.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “Not like you.”
“What happened?” I wrap my hands around the warm mug of tea.
“She was at dance camp when we ran. We didn’t have a chance to get to her.” Matt drums his fingers against his knee. “Now all the unadjusteds have been rounded up and put in compounds.”
My thoughts spin back to a conversation between my parents, both of them tutting over dinner, and I realize why the unadjusteds are being rounded up and kept in compounds.
My parents said if an altered took too many nanites with animal DNA, they would lose their humanity. The animal DNA would take over, and higher thinking would be lost. But Bear had refused them the funds to test the theory.
Clearly they were right.
When the unadjusteds fled, the altereds lost the stabilizing presence of the unadjusteds. So they needed them close, in compounds, where they could control them.
I lean closer. “Do you know where she is?”
The flickering lanterns highlight the frown on his face as he rubs at a patch of stubble. “There are so many compounds. I have no idea how to find her.”
“I’m sorry, Matt.” I reach for his hand. “I know how it feels.” Mom. Dad.
His jaw tightens. “Once we’re organized, I’m going to go out looking for her.”
“I’m with you, and we’ll rescue all of them.”
A walkie-talkie attached to Matt’s belt crackles. He flicks the switch.
Claus’ voice comes over the airwaves. “…helicopters still out here. Over.”
“How many? Over,” Matt asks, glancing at the ceiling as if he can see through it.
“Hard to tell. Maybe three. Over.”
“Understood. Over.”
Matt stands. He taps a spoon against his own metal mug and clears his throat. “Shhhh.”
Everyone quietens.
“Helicopters overhead. We need to keep the noise to a minimum,” Matt says in a lowered voice.
Conversations stop. The only noises are the gentle clinks of silverware and the odd cry of a child. Matt sits again beside me.
“Does this happen often?” I whisper.
“It’s happened once or twice. We don’t really know if sound transmits out of the cave, so we play it safe.”
I take a bite of the crust on my roll, but even that small crunching seems too loud.
We finish our meal in silence. Sibilant whispers snake through different groups. Many people dip their heads as if in prayer. I wince when a baby starts to cry. The father picks it up and jiggles it against his shoulder, shushing it and patting its back.
A few minutes later, Matt’s walkie-talkie crackles again.
“All clear. Over.”
Matt stands and addresses the group. “Immediate danger has passed, but let’s keep it on the quiet side for tonight.
“Speaking of noise, that reminds me.” Matt reaches into a crevice in the side of the wall. “I hid this away earlier. This is for you.”
Tears spring to my eyes when he presses a guitar into my hands. After I left mine behind at the apartment, I never thought I’d hold one again. The strings vibrate under my fingers, begging to be loved.
Matt wipes a tear from my cheek. “It’s supposed to make you happy.”
“It does. Thank you.” I wrap my hand around the neck of the guitar and cradle it to my body. My fingers pluck quietly at the strings. “Where did it come from?”
Matt’s lips twist into a sad grimace. “Someone who didn’t make it here.”
The guitar weighs heavily in my hands, and I play for the person who lost their life carrying it.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my hands forming the chords I’ve only envisioned in my mind. “Listen to this.”
“We are the sun, we are the dawn,
We are the voice that urges you along.
Cast your eyes to the wreckage, the oppression, and the pain,
Lift your sights to the horizon—learn to live again.
We are the pain, we are the tears,
We’re the voices that were lost over the years.
But when our hearts burn quiet in the dark of night,
We won’t bear to keep this silence—we will stand, and we will fight.”
This time it is Matt’s eyes that glisten with emotion. He clears his throat. “That’s beautiful. And so strong. And so… everything.”
“Right?”
“We need something like that.” His voice catches. “An anthem. It will unite everyone. Give them hope.”
I smile. Matt always thinks of the bigger picture. For me the words are a way to unleash the fury in my heart. The song is a promise to find justice, but he sees how it can be so much more than that.
The fluttering of wings skims across my cheek. Paige, the girl with the beautiful green feathers and emerald eyes, crouches next to us and smiles at me. “Hi.”
After Matt makes introductions, Paige says, “I’ve talked Meg into a supply run tomorrow. We’re going to hit that warehouse on the edge of town.” She turns to me. “Silver, I hear you can handle yourself with a knife?”
I nod.
Matt pokes my ribs. “When did that happen? Being a black belt wasn’t enough for you?”
I flick his knee. “I had lots of practice in the woods.”
“Would you like to come with us?” Paige asks.
“Absolutely.” My spirits lift at the thought of a supply run tomorrow.
I stay in the main chamber with Matt for another hour, plucking at the guitar. A small crowd gathers around me, and the words of my freedom song pass from mouth to mouth until a few sing along. The passion shines strong from their eyes, and I see I have nothing to fear. They are just as desperate and furious as I am. There is no price for freedom. Not even two million dollars.
I shake out the nightmares and roll the kinks out of stiff muscles from sleeping on a rock floor. A yellow ball of fur streaks into the room, and a pink tongue licks my face.
“Einstein!” I grab the golden retriever by the collar, pull him closer, and scrunch him behind the ears. He is Matt’s, given to him on his tenth birthday. I went to the pet shop with him to pick him out. Amid the freakishly human talking birds and color-changing lizards and fish whose bubbles played music, Matt opted for an unadjusted puppy.
“Morning,” Matt says. “You sleep OK?”
I nod, rubbing at a tense spot on my neck. “It’s nice to have walls around me again. Even if they are rock.”
Matt nods, seeming to understand. “Hey, we’re gathering in the main chamber before we go on the supply run.”
“Now?”
Matt smiles. “Yes.”
I scramble for my boots and lace
them on, and soon we’re walking toward the main chamber, now empty of injured people. Matt steers me to the kitchen area and dips his hand into one of several baskets, then hands me a granola bar.
I look at the measly offering. “This is it?”
Matt tears open his own. “I’m afraid so.”
I scan the kitchen. Half the baskets are empty. “Food run out or missing?”
“Still unclear. I haven’t done a stock take, which I’ll have to do from now on. But there are things I remember seeing that aren’t around any longer.”
“Who would steal food?” I look at the people gathered in the chamber, eating the same breakfast. Most of them are thin, probably having lost weight on their way here.
“I have no idea.”
A few people are gathered by the cave entrance, and they fall silent as we approach. Joe is there with Kyle, Paige, and Erica, the fairy with lavender hair.
“You’re Silver Melody,” Erica says, eyeing me. A bow and quiver are slung over one of her petite shoulders.
I nod and curse the granola crumbs stuck at the corners of my mouth.
There are two others I don’t recognize. A bulk, a little shorter than Joe, with much darker hair and a permanent frown etched into his forehead. Joe noogies the top of the guy’s head, then they high-five and recount some football game where Joe’s team beat his. The second is another girl almost as tall as Joe. Flame-red hair licks the length of her spine. She wears shorts and some sort of Amazonian getup across her chest. All leather straps and bangles. Intricately woven tattoos decorate her hands and arms. Old-school ones, not the more recent animated versions. Two throwing stars are buried in the leather cuffs at her wrists.
She looks from Matt to me. “Is this a good idea?”
I bristle, and my fingers dance across the hilt of my knife.
“Addison,” Matt addresses the tall girl. “Silver is an asset to the team. She’s a black belt in karate.”
She tightens the straps snaking around her waist, never taking her pale eyes off me. “But still. If she’s seen, it could be dangerous for all of us. There’s a price on her head.”
“I’m aware,” I say, raising my chin. “I’m happy to go alone if my presence causes a problem.”
Erica’s wings flutter an icy blue while Addison takes a step back.
“We need Silver,” Matt says, staring at each member of the group. No one disagrees. A flicker of smugness pushes my shoulder back. Claus would not approve.
Matt leads the way up the passageway into the open. I slit my eyes against the rising sun until they adjust. After we conceal the entrance, we follow Matt up the far side of the valley and through a sparse forest until we reach the edge of a patch of disused farmland. Matt shows us where he’s hidden an army jeep. It’s requisitioned to fit a bulk, so my head is level with the door handle.
“We stashed this here a while ago,” Matt says. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to re-adjust the pedals so I can drive. But I guess I don’t need to now.” He hands the keys to Joe, who hops into the driver’s seat. When the engine splutters to life, we all clamber in.
Hal, the other bulk, sits in the front with Joe, Kyle wedged between them. Matt sits to my right, Erica and Addison to my left. Paige hangs out in the back, where there’s room for her wings, and nudges her chin between the seats. A vibrant green feather floats around my head and I pluck it from the air and hand it back.
“Keep it.” Paige smiles all the way to her eyes, which matches the exact shade of her cut-out T-shirt. Large loops in the back allow space for her wings. In Central City, right down the block from my apartment, is the most expensive clothing shop for winged adjusteds. All sorts of garments with sparkling holes, or lit-up hems to emphasize plumage. Of course, I’ve never been inside, but the fairies at school would always go there first for their prom dresses.
“The last time I was here, it was meltdown city,” Erica says, wrapping her long lavender hair into a perfect bun. Her bow and quiver rest in her lap.
Addison nods. “I barely made it out alive.”
Erica pats her knee. “I had you covered.”
“You came this way?” Matt asks.
Erica nods. “We’re not from Central City. We came from inland, a couple of states over. But they’re all the same.”
Joe stops the jeep at the edge of a deserted parking lot. A breeze pushes trash across the empty lot, sending it skittering toward the trees. A rust-colored stain mars the white lines of a parking space. Peering closer, I realize it’s blood. A huge gray warehouse towers at the other side of the car park. A couple of cars lie at angles to the bays, doors open, spilling bodies onto the tarmac.
“Jesus,” Matt mutters, running his hand along the door frame.
“What happened here?” I whisper. The smell of stale blood drifts close, making me gag.
“People went cray-cray.” Erica circles her fingers over her ears.
“But not you?” I ask.
Erica’s violet eyes stare hard enough to drill holes. “No. Not me. I only took one nanite.”
Silence unfolds around the group as we take in the scene. I’ve been attacked by wolves and a hellhound and trailed by the army, but I haven’t seen this much blood. Ever.
“Do we drive a bit closer or leave the jeep here?” Hal asks, dragging a hand over his closely shaven hair.
Matt leans forward. “I reckon we go closer. Leave the doors open like it’s another abandoned vehicle.”
Slowly, inch by inch, Joe edges the jeep forward until it sits flush with the warehouse wall. He switches off the engine, and silence descends around us.
“Well, we can’t sit here all day.” I lean over Matt and pull the door handle.
We climb down from the jeep, hands near weapons, eyes scanning the distant trees. Kyle blurs his way to the open warehouse door and disappears inside. He returns a moment later with two thumbs up and a jubilant smile.
“Let’s go,” Matt says.
We jog toward the door, the only sound the wind ruffling through Paige’s feathers. Just as we reach the doorway, Kyle pops back into view with a thick arm wrapped around his neck and a gun pointing at his temple. We all freeze.
“Help me!” Kyle shuffles his feet, struggling against the bulk, who has him in a suffocating grip.
The bulk moves the gun from Kyle’s temple and points it at Paige. Then Erica. One by one, we stare down the barrel of the gun.
“Who are you?” he asks, his voice low and guttural.
Joe and Hal exchange a look. Joe still wears his army clothing. He steps forward. “On a recon mission. Heard there were unadjusteds in the area.”
“Like this one?” the bulk sneers.
“I’m not an unadjusted!” Kyle coughs.
My fingers twitch, itching to touch my knife.
The bulk juts his chin at Joe and Hal. “Show me your ID.”
Joe takes another step. Hal mimics his movements and approaches the bulk’s other side.
The bulk waves the gun at them, realizes his folly and points it at Matt instead. My heart freezes and I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek. Matt stays calm, barely even breathing.
“ID,” the bulk growls.
Joe raises his hand, but he keeps edging closer. “In my pocket. Just gonna reach for it…”
Quicker than I can follow, Joe and Hal move at the same time. Joe slams the bulk’s neck with the side of his hand, and I hope he’s hit the sensitive spot. The bulk drops Kyle, whom Hal grabs and shoves out of the way. The gun waves all over the place, and the rest of us duck and dive to avoid its path. Then Joe grabs the bulk’s arm, Hal the gun, and they secure him in an arm-lock. The soldier struggles, but he’s coughing so hard his cheeks puff out and his face turns red.
Joe and Hal push him inside the warehouse. By the time the rest of us enter, it’s over. The bulk lies dead along the wall, a hole in his throat, a puddle of blood under his neck.
Kyle kicks him in the ribs. He’s trembling.
; I touch his shoulder. “You’re OK now, Kyle.”
He turns his head away and swipes at his nose.
The rest of us catch our breaths and let our eyes adjust to the gloomy interior. Dust plumes circle in the shaft of light that bleeds through the door. Hal sneezes and Addison puts a finger to her lips. Paige’s wings drift, stirring the thick air.
“OK.” Matt looks at us all. “It’s a supermarket warehouse. Our priority is flour and other dried goods. As much as we can fit in the jeep.”
Kyle refuses to talk or meet anyone’s eyes, busying himself instead with collecting pallets of pasta and cans. He leaves the heavy sacks of flour to Joe and Hal. After an hour of stacking goods near the door, we think we have enough food to feed the cave population for at least a week.
Joe stands in the doorway, about to start loading the jeep, when he suddenly ducks inside and pulls everyone around the corner of an aisle. Clopping footsteps and the irritated shriek of a walkie-talkie sound outside.
Without warning, the door slams closed and we’re thrust into darkness. Next comes the sickening slam of three deadbolts.
“We’re locked inside,” I say.
Joe shakes his head. “I can break through the door. But we don’t know who or what is on the other side.”
“Could be that soldier wasn’t alone,” Erica says. We all look at the dim outline of the dead bulk that Joe dragged into the warehouse. The smell of blood hovers.
“Let’s give it a couple of hours,” Matt suggests. “If we wait for nightfall, we’ll have the cover of darkness and whoever is out there might have left. I’m hoping it’s just a security guard.”
“And if they hang around?” Kyle asks.
Erica thwacks the string of her bow. Matt nods at her. “Then we’ll have to take them out.”
“Let’s go up there.” Matt points. A gloomy light sucks some of the darkness from a small second story. A few storage boxes stacked haphazardly and dark office windows are behind that. “We’ll be out of the way in case someone decides to come in.”
Joe leads the way up the metal stairs.
The Unadjusteds Page 10