Kit’s cheeks pink and she’s taking rapid breaths. “You can’t be serious? How’s he supposed to do that? How’s he supposed to get out?” With every word out of her mouth, numbness spreads around my body. I should have stopped him. I should have gone with him.
Jackson’s shoulders slump a little, but his voice is still as unyielding as ever. “He’ll do it because he’s got double the reason now.”
Kit slams her fist down on the table and makes me and the bowls jump. Curry splashes over the table. “What the hell, Jackson? You know what they’ll do to him. If he doesn’t make it out, I’ll never forgive you.”
Jackson flinches. “Forgiveness is Irrelevant, remember?”
Kit places her hands on the table and leans closer to him. “So am I now, you selfish wanker. Did you forget what I gave up for you?”
My own anger is swelling until I can’t stand the pressure. I shove away from the table and stand on shaking legs. My voice is hovering between anger and dread. “Cristan is gone and you have to do something to fix it.”
Jackson jumps to his feet, sending the chair clattering on the floor. “I’d like to remind the two of you that he shot me, which makes it a little fecking tricky for me to do anything to help him right about now!”
Fear is rippling through me, my skin is growing clammy, and I want to cry, but I won’t give him more reason to be angry. Jackson spits a curse, grabs his gun, and spins on his heel. His clomping footsteps pound in my head. I collapse in the chair and place my face in my hands and start to rock.
I try to imagine Cristan’s arms around me, try to imagine the pressure, the security and safety the feeling brings, but even my wild imagination can’t bridge the gap between his presence and my memories. My lip starts to wobble as tears spill from my eyes. I wrap my arms around myself and squeeze as tightly as my weak muscles allow for. It’s no use. My body isn’t fooled. Cristan gives me something my own body can’t even try to provide.
Amidst my pain, Kit’s voice comes soothing and calming in my ear. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. You’ll see. The ghosts won’t let Jackson leave him in there.”
I wrench my hands from my face. My voice is a screech. “But what did they do to him? Why do you keep saying he’s a weapon?”
Kit winces as though I’ve struck her. Her voice drops lower, softer, as though she’s trying to find a way to tell me. Her voice cracks as she peers down at me. “The only reason he hasn’t killed anyone in the Unit was that no one threatened him or his brother and they were sneaking meds into his food and water.”
I shake my head. “But he hasn’t had anything from the Unit in over a week.”
Kit’s lips turn up as if she’s trying to smile but her face won’t cooperate. “He’s calm enough, but that’s because he’s been with you.”
My mouth fills with saliva, the room starts to spin, Kit’s voice dissolving as I fight the motion. “Why do I make a difference?” I croak.
Kit looks like she’s going to explain, but movement comes from the doorway and Trey breezes in. His eyes dart to Kit and he takes a step backwards. “They’re right behind me and they want to talk to her.”
I slowly stand on legs I fear will give out. “Okay,” I hear myself say.
He winks at me, then grins and turns to motion out the door. The sounds of feet trampling over the walkway, make me grip the chair tightly until I lose feeling in my fingers. Kit and Trey are silent. Almost reverent as they step to the side to allow the visitors entry.
They appear. Like apparitions. Two with skin so pale, so thin, I can see the veins below the surface.
An older woman speaks, wearing a pale sleeveless dress, her feet bare, and a knife strapped around her waist. Her voice is rough as if she is unused to speaking. “Tell us how the lights in the sky made you feel?”
Even the mention of them makes my stomach flip about. I don’t need to think of an answer. I knew that the night I saw them.
“Alive,” I say.
She doesn’t react, and my heart starts to pound even harder. Seconds drag by as she and the man stare at me. Then, slowly, as if her face has forgotten how, she smiles. Her movements are stiff as she crosses the distance between us.
An arched eyebrow lifts and her thin lips pucker. “Tell Jackson Stone his ghosts are ready.”
* * *
Cristan.
Jagged hot pain pulses through my body. I fade in and out of consciousness and gingerly open my eyes only to find my vision clouded. It takes a few blinks to realise I’m on my stomach, still bound, only this time I can feel pressure as they tug at my lower back. I freeze, barely breathing through the fear that drags out memories I tried to suppress.
I hear Doctor Frankenstein talking. Presumably to his assistants. “I’d have preferred to cut through the scar tissue again, but you see this is now impossible with the damage he’s done to his skin.”
I nearly choke on a laugh. Damage? He considers the artwork Drew placed on my back to cover the hideous scars damage? What the hell does he think he’s doing by cutting me open again? More importantly, why are they cutting me open again? To check the implant? See if it’s still functioning after all these years?
My lip curls. I hope Kit’s stunner fried the chip or the circuits, but since that’s entirely the point of the damn thing, it’s unlikely. I try to move, but my limbs are unresponsive. I couldn’t be more helpless if he was holding a gun to my head.
My eyes fill with angry tears. My jaw clenches and I test my tongue before I raise my voice as loud as I can. “Leave me the hell alone.”
I hear a sharp inhalation of breath that probably came from the nurse. Frankenstein’s voice saps all the fight from me. “I told you to increase the dose, he still has Tetrahydrocannabinol in his system,” he snaps at her. A smirk grows on my face. Funny to think the home-grown drug is causing him problems.
“But that’s twice the—” she starts to say.
“Do it! Or I will find another nurse who will.”
She won’t argue. She wouldn’t dare to. One black mark against her name and she’ll be sent to the lab or the maternity ward where they take babies for testing.
Where I found Jed. Thoughts of him, of how unfair life is, curl in and make my veins heat. I barely have time to register the scuffling sounds behind me as I feel the dull pressure of a needle piercing my skin. I fight it. Fight against the cool spreading like fire through my body. Like all Higher Relevants, he’s a stickler for rules, which means he won’t be able to open me up again if I stay awake enough.
I scramble through my murky thoughts and hope I can find something to throw him off his game long enough to buy some time. “Best day of my life when I stabbed you,” I mumble. The machine blips, signalling my brain activity has increased. The tugging at my back ceases, but I can’t stop talking, I can’t give in to the sleep pulling at me, trying to drag me under.
“I hope I get to kill you.” The thought sparks new energy, and the machine blips a few times so I close my eyes and picture exactly what I’d do to him. I take great pleasure in explaining in great detail which bones I plan to break, and how I’d enjoy strapping him to the chair I’m in.
Nothing but silence meets me, the machine isn’t registering, so I have to keep talking about random things just to keep my brain active enough. “You know the G keeps everything on a database? Lots of Irrelevant info, tonnes,” I say.
My voice is sounding thick so I try to think of things that will provoke an emotion. Mallory. Her lips, her skin, her hair. I think of how she felt in my arms when we said goodbye. How she tasted. Her soft lips, her curves, the swell of her breasts. I smile through the grogginess. “If I could, I’d buy you some old paints and a canvas.” The machine blips repeatedly, so I keep talking as Frankenstein mutters to the nurse so low I can’t hear. “We can sit out on the roof. Have a few drinks. You can paint the lights,” I say.
More shuffling comes from behind me, then the whispers of confusion as I concentrate on the nurse’s soft
footfalls. Frankenstein sighs deeply, then leans down so his masked face is in my eye line. His breath is hot as he breathes into my ear. “You are only drawing this procedure out. As soon as your blood test comes back, I’ll start the test cycle again.”
A faint buzz sounds then the door opens with a hiss of compressed air. “Doctor, you need to stop. There’s been a complication.”
My sluggish heart rate starts to tap faster. I’m not surprised when he says the words I’m thinking. “What kind of a complication?” I strain to hear, but no one is saying anything, for a minute all I can hear is my own pulse, then Frankenstein releases a breath as though annoyed. “Very well. Nurse, take him back to his room.”
He steps away and I wrench my eyeballs as far to the side as I can in the hopes I’ll see who’s standing at the door, but all I see is the grey trousers and tunic all staff wear in here. I can only imagine why he’s letting it drop for now. I have no idea what made him stop in the middle of an extraction.
I don’t care right now. Because I know I’ve been given a little time. And if they leave me alone long enough, I might just be able to bust out of here.
* * *
Mallory.
I stand, riveted to the floor as the man begins to tidy away the dishes, all with a frown on his colourless face. With a smile, Kit drags a chair closer to where the woman sits. They start to talk quietly about Kit’s garden and speak of things to do with dirt and mixes of something called compost.
Trey slips out the door to fetch Jackson and I feel like a wheel spinning on the dirt. I can’t have any real part in the plans they are all making around me. There is little I can do. They are strong, resilient, and capable. I am not.
I edge closer to the man. He smells like musty clothes and dirt mixed with the fragranced soap Cristan used back at Kit’s hut. My trepidation grows as I approach. I swallow and make sure I stay out of his way as he loads the dishes into a tub on the bench. I start to say something, but my anxiety carries away all thoughts of speaking. It’s pointless anyway. I have nothing of value to add. The man turns abruptly and his lips part as though he’s trying to smile. I catch sight of his gums where the teeth should be. My smile falters and he turns away, his frown appearing once more as he scrapes the bowls out into a waste receptacle on the floor.
Relief floods me when Jackson and Trey slink through the doors. At least until I see that Jackson’s torso is covered with weapons. Knives are strapped to his body, he wears two guns holstered at his sides, and on his shoulder, he carries a larger gun. Kit extends her hand, and as if they’ve done it a hundred times before, the woman uses Kit’s forearm to slowly stand up.
Jackson moves in closer and my eyes widen as the woman wraps her arms around him. “You should have told the boy,” she scolds as she releases him.
Jackson tries for a shrug, but pain laces his face. He exhales slowly. “Yeah. I should have, but the plan can still work. We just need to contact 2B.”
The woman’s lips press tightly together. “No. Leave them out of it. Without Cristan’s consent, there can be no alliance.”
Jackson looks so crestfallen, I’m bewildered. Whoever she is to him, he values her greatly. The man beside me remains silent, so I follow his example and stay quiet as Jackson settles in at the table and they start to talk about entry points and technology I’ve never heard about.
I’m so tired of not understanding. I’m so tired of always being on the outside looking in. With Cristan gone, I feel like I’m adrift with no one to anchor me. I’m allowed to be Irrelevant here, but I still don’t fit in. I can’t meet anyone’s eye. I can’t have a conversation. I tried all my life to fit in, and I still don’t. I’m superfluous. Useless. And Cristan might never come back to help me. I need to find a way to cope. So, I try to think of the lights. I try not to hum, but I can’t stop it.
I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to tune out the talk of returning to the new city. “No. That won’t work,” Jackson says.
“Who’s the best hacker you know, then? Since he’s out of the picture,” Trey says.
They keep speaking about Cristan in hushed tones. They way Relevant people did when someone’s life ended. I rock back on my heels and find a rhythm that might soothe me. I wrap my arms around myself and start to hum so I don’t have to listen to them speaking of what I’ve lost.
The voices all merge into one continuous stream as they argue.
“I could do it.”
“Don’t be an idiot, this is G tech, Trey, Overriding the antiquated locks in here is one thing…”
“Then there’s the proximity alert.”
“Yeah, but none of us are wearing time slides—”
“Which is why’ll they just gas us, you dim wit.”
“Stop it. This isn’t helping and you’re embarrassing me.”
“Sorry, Kit, but we need to act now if we stand a chance of getting him out alive.”
I don’t listen anymore. I see a Pegasus. Proud. Majestic. White, soaring through the sky in a clear unfiltered sky. I lose myself in the picture. I’m floating above all the chaos. In the quiet, in the still and peace above the UV shield.
Above.
The.
Noise.
My eyes pop open. “I know how to get into the city,” I say.
They are so busy arguing that only the woman seems to notice me. Her hand raises and Jackson and Trey both fall silent. My confidence starts to wane as every set of eyes burns into me. I drop my gaze, my voice a mumbled whisper of hope and doubt all in one. “The drones can get out. There must be a way in.”
I hear the woman laugh. Soft and lilting. Like a soft breeze on a warm summer night. “Yes. Yes, I think that will do nicely,” she murmurs.
Chapter 12
Cristan.
I’m still fighting to stay awake when another nurse comes in the room to assist. I hear her shoes squeak on the spotless floor and her whispers. The feeling is coming back in my arms and legs, so I know the meds are wearing off. I release a breath and allow myself to relax slightly. The nurses aren’t threats on their own. It’s Frankenstein that gives them orders. Orders no one ever questioned once, even when I was first brought in here as a scared kid.
The chair slowly spins me around so I’m facing up the right way and staring glassy-eyed at them. I blink a couple times and bite back a sigh of relief that I don’t recognise either of them. It’s hard not to harbour maliciousness towards anyone who tore some of my insides out and replaced tissue with tech.The stoic-faced nurses in the clinic wouldn’t consider doubting the chain of command. None of the upper Relevants ever do. Why would they? They have everything to lose and nothing to gain from questioning. It’s in their best interests to keep the status quo. It’s the Irrelevants the government knows are the real threat. The ones who look at things differently. Those are the ones the G fears.
I fight a yawn as the closest nurse presses the alignment button so I’m lying parallel. I’m still bound, but at least I don’t have to fight gravity to breathe. Both of the nurses are pretty. Something I remember from all my times in here. I was too young to really notice how attractive they were or to quantify what that could mean, but now I’m wondering if it’s intentional. Another trick to try to manipulate emotions in the male test subjects. I wouldn’t put it past them. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they dragged Jed here and told me if I cooperated he’d be taken care of. I snort a laugh, earning me a strange look from the perky blonde nurse with slate grey eyes tidying away instruments the green-eyed bastard never got to use.
I’m too tired to speak, so I just let my thoughts wander back to Mallory and Jed, and pray to whatever god is left in this forsaken place that they are doing okay. I stare at the bright lights on the ceiling until eye worms start to appear, and work on wriggling my toes and fingers. The bed starts to move with one nurse at my head, one at my feet. Neither saying a word, neither deigning to speak to a low life like they think I am.
My eyes track the distance and searc
h for objects I can use to orientate myself. As we pass the water dispenser, every muscle in my body reacts instinctively. I see the number etched on the door and know this is intentional. They’re locking me up again. In the same room I escaped from. I wrench my neck as the auto door swings open. The panel I ripped apart is nowhere in sight. I don’t even recognise the mechanism that’s in its place so I don’t fancy my chances of figuring it out in a hurry.
My breathing starts to speed along with my pulse. Fear can be potent. I should be glad my memories are helping my body to fight the drugs. Adrenaline can and does push ordinary people to do extraordinary things. I cling to that thought as the nurse places a strip on my wrist that will cause me great pain if I try to remove it. She eases away silently. Her job done, she walks briskly out the door leaving the other nurse to tap away on a tablet. Her brown hair is tied back, but a single curl escapes as she leans over me to flick a switch. I study her face, and for a second our eyes meet. Her mouth turns down and she backs away, her disgust evident. She leaves without a word too. Just like they always did.
When my eyes start to droop, I bite my lip to keep from falling asleep. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them wide, letting the light flood them and jump start my brain into staying awake. I work on wriggling my extremities and stare at the outer casing on the panel on the wall, muttering to myself to help me stay awake.
It takes less time than I’d hoped for the door to open again. Shock renders me mute as my brother walks through the door. My mouth opens and shuts but no words come out as he stands alongside me. Without a word, he pulls out a med box and grabs my finger.
I’m too weak to struggle, but I’m aware enough to feel the prick of the needle drawing blood. “Another blood sample?” I mumble. I must have had one already if Frankenstein knew I’d ingested weed, so why do another?
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