The Unforgiven (The Propagation Project Book 1)
Page 23
Luka is gone.
It doesn’t seem true. He isn’t hovering close by or jumping to my side…another crack in my heart, and I fear it is the last before the break.
Will I ever see him again? I would love to tell myself yes, but I cannot lie, even to make myself feel better. I have no photos to hold on to, no proof that our relationship existed. All I have is the tattoo on my arm, branding me with his touch. I can only hope to see him when this is all over. Hope is all I have left, the glue that keeps the cracking pieces held together, if only just barely.
“Well,” Jack says as he throws his bag back on his shoulders. “It’s been fun kids, but I got to head off.”
“Where?” Shane asks.
“Oh, I don’t know. One probably. I heard there’s some kind of compound over there.”
Shane looks over at me, and the minute his eyes meet mine, I look away.
“Yeah,” I say. “You should check it out. If you make it, tell them Shane and Hazel said hi.” I get up off the ground, feeling my bones creak and muscles ache. “Thanks,” I say to Jack. “I owe you one.” I offer him a hug, the only gift of gratitude I can afford.
“One?” he says, teasingly. “Try five.”
I smile, and it’s been so long, the movement of my mouth in an upward position is a weird sensation.
“Bye, Apollo.” I tap his little head a few times, and he bobs it in recognition.
“See ya, Jack,” Shane says, offering a handshake. “Be safe out there.”
Jack gives a nod, and with that, Shane and I are those who remain. We stand feet apart, each one waiting for the other to make the first move.
“Ready?” Shane asks.
“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter, grabbing my bag.
Shane starts off in the opposite direction as Jack. I take a deep breath, knowing it will be the last feeling of security I will enjoy from here on out.
Chapter 47
Here I stand at the threshold, my feet still planted in Ward Seven, but my eyes gazing out toward Eight. From this spot, First City is in plain view, the tall steel buildings jutting up into the dusky sky like shimmering nails. Shane stands beside me, but unlike the first time we looked out to First City together, he says nothing, his thoughts locked inside his head.
“We better get going,” he finally says.
I follow him through a patch of overgrown grass leading into a quiet neighborhood at the edge of East Point. It feels like a betrayal to come here and not go home, but it’s too risky. Right now, the only things going for me are my completely different look and Shane. Any association with my old life must be cut, a realization that isn’t easy to accept.
Last night, we made a quick stop at Shane’s friends’ house. There, we both got a hot meal and a clean change of clothes.
“You have to look like someone from Eight,” Shane said. “Not some renegade from One.”
Laura and Ben have been married for a few years and have known Shane since grade school. They both work in First City but live just beyond the boundary lines of Eight.
“We can trust them,” Shane whispered to me, gently cupping my face.
I nodded, feeling certainty pass through his touch.
Listening to Ben talk reminded me of Uncle Will.
I barely slept last night, the nightmares of faceless people waking me in a sweaty fit. I felt Shane crawl onto the couch with me, his arm cradling me under my head.
“I won’t remember them,” I muttered to him as he shushed me back to sleep. “I won’t remember.”
After breakfast, Laura rummaged through her bedroom for clothes.
“Be patient with him,” she said to me as she raided her closet.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She paused a minute from searching through her closet. “After what happened to his parents, I didn’t think he would ever open up to anyone ever again.” She didn’t say any more and went back to talking about the shoes.
I pretended to be listening, but all the while I was thinking about her words. Shane never went into detail about what happened to his parents, and I always assumed it was the Affliction. I looked out into the hallway from Laura and Ben’s bedroom as Shane walked by, flashing me a brief but affectionate smile. I smiled back, wondering what else he hasn’t told me.
I look down at my new shoes, black knee-high boots made from soft leather, wrapped around dark denim jeans, and a white button down top with sleeves that cover my tattoo. I traded my ugly, tattered backpack for a sleek, new oversized purse where I stuffed the last of my things, including a gun.
I look over at Shane, wearing black slacks, a sharp crease down the middle of each pant leg and a button-down blue and cream striped shirt. He looks every bit like someone from Eight while I feel like I have a seven tattooed on my forehead.
We wait at the last stop in Ward Seven, waiting for the bus to take us to the train station that runs into First City. I look down at my mother’s watch, my stomach twisting as I see the bus rattle down the road. It stops just in front of us, the doors creaking open.
Shane looks to me, his brow furrowed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nod, forcing myself to say the words. “I’m sure.”
He places his foot on the first step and reaches back for my hand. I grasp it, letting him pull me onto the bus.
Riding the bus from this point on requires a special card that, thanks to Laura, I now possess. Shane slides his first, and the machine glows green. I do the same, and for a moment my heart skips a beat when the machine glows red. The bus driver looks over from the corner of his eye, and I look at Shane, trying my best to hide my panic.
“Try it again,” Shane commands.
I do, and I nearly fall to the floor when it turns green.
Thankfully, the bus is empty, not many passengers allowed to travel beyond Seven’s borders. We head toward the back and Shane slips into an aisle seat, making me wedge between his long legs to sit by the window. In my pocket, Ruby May’s crystal cluster jabs me in the thigh.
“Where will we go once we get to Eight?” I ask.
“My place, I guess,” Shane says. “I have an apartment downtown.”
“How long until we get to the train station?”
“Not long. We should be home-sweet-home in a few hours.”
I smile, hoping to convince him that inside I’m calm and collected, and not about to start screaming at the top of my lungs. The bus starts off down a road I’ve only traveled once before, the day Netty and I were reaped.
I try not to think that we have no plan, and we sure don’t have a chance in hell. Only hope. I squeeze the crystal cluster in my pocket and hope my luck hasn’t run out.
About The Author
Callie Bishop
Callie Bishop has been writing stories since she learned to hold a pencil. She loves combining genres, but she is fiercely loyal to her romance readers. She resides in NJ with her family and loves margaritas, crocheting, and coffee.
Books In This Series
The Propagation Project
Be fruitful and multiply. Or else.
Book 2 Coming Soon!