Regenerate

  The pit of my stomach knots up hard and tight. She’s right. I could, and probably should do that instead. I look back down at my almost colorless meal. “I’m all finished,” I say. “I’m headed to bed.”

  Mom smiles like it’s towards me, even though she doesn’t have a screen window up with me in it. She nods her head several times. “Good night.”

  I crash face-down on my bed, intending to get up and read or something before I actually go to sleep. The ache in my chest makes me hurt all over. My limbs feel heavy and exhausted. I’m not sure when it happens, but slowly my consciousness slips into a deeper realm.

  A knock on my window tears me from my dreams and startles the bejeebers out of me. I look at my window, now dark with the backdrop of night. There, lit from the glow of my pod, is Lander. Is this a dream or a hallucination? There’s no way I’m really seeing him out there right now. I glance at my time light: eleven thirty p.m.

  He knocks again and adjusts his precarious perch on my window ledge.

  I rub my hand over my forehead. “What the heck?” Wait, he’s balancing on three inches of poly-plex over a five-story drop! I leap from my bed and slide open the window.

  He swings inside and plants his feet firmly on my corn-colored carpet. Then he stoops over and braces his hands on his knees for a moment, breathing heavily. “That climb was a little more intense than I imagined.”

  “What on earth are you doing here? And what were you doing out there?” I say, pointing to my window. “It’s way after regulation hours.”

  He looks up at me and grins, answering between panting breaths. “Sneaking up to see you. Duh.”

  My pulse pulls at my throat and I brush a hand over my fuzzy hair. “Why?”

  Lander straightens and takes several steps towards me, closing the distance. “Isn’t it obvious?” His intense, mischievous stare makes me swallow and take a step back. “I’m busting you out of this joint,” he finishes.

  His olden-days reference to prison makes me want to smile, but the imprudence of the situation helps me keep a straight face. “Busting me out? I’m not locked in here. You could have rung the doorbell or chat pinged or something.”

  He casually strolls a few paces around with a confident swagger, examining my pod. He picks up the withered potted stem on my dresser and turns it around several times while he answers. “I could’ve,” he says and pauses, looking up at me with tempting eyes, “but isn’t this a whole lot more exciting?

  I cross my arms and frown at him. “Um, awkward, weird, a little creepy perhaps, but no. Not more exciting.”

  His sexy, self-composed smirk bursts into a guffaw of laughter. He sets down the plant and presses his fist between his shut eyes, his shoulders shaking from chuckling.

  I don’t share his amusement. “What’s so funny?” I’ve seen him laugh before, but never like this. It’s completely sincere and authentic. Wow, it’s so much cuter than his polished version.

  He slides his hand down and off his face as he regains control. “Oh, Averi. You are unique.”

  Is that a compliment?

  “Fine,” he concedes, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t just do it for the excitement of it. Your mom’s gone to bed so I couldn’t buzz the door, and if I pinged you then there’d be a record.”

  I glance out my darkened window then back to Lander. “Why are you being so sneaky?”

  “Averi, it’s after hours and you’re under house arrest. You do the math. So are you coming? Or did I just risk my life to save a damsel who loves staying in her tower?”

  I’ve always loved the old fairy tales, so the reference makes me smile. “All right, I’m game, but they can track us anyhow.” I point to my arm where the tracker is implanted.

  He walks back over to me once more and slips his fingers around my arm. He slides his thumb over the small raised bump of skin where the tracker is embedded. It sends tingles across the surface of my arm. “I’m sure you’re clever enough to find a way around that. After all, I saw you do it two days ago.”

  So he did check my tracker. Wait, is this more flirting or a threat he’ll turn me in? His fingers caressing my arm make my head swim. Flirting. “All right. I think I can figure something out. But what about you?”

  He lets go and tilts his head to the side in question. “What about me?”

  “Won’t your uncle be upset? Or the Local Organizers?”

  He smirks. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Then he wriggles his brow. “Although I do like your concern.”

  My fingers drum against my still-crossed arm. “Don’t get used to it. It seems like you enjoy taking unnecessary risks a little too much.”

  I make him wait in the hall while I put on my re-router, a thicker jacket, and my athletic shoes. Then once I’ve disabled the door voice, we silently slip into the hall. Wordlessly, we make our way down the back stairwell, where there are fewer cameras, and out the alley door between the buildings.

  The crisp evening air hits me like pins and needles to the face. I guess I’ve been cooped up for quite a while, because it feels more vivid and invigorating than I ever remember a breeze feeling before. Or maybe it’s that I’m out well after the Organizer’s “recommended” hours and with a guy who’s kind of starting to grow on me.

  We stay in the shadow of the buildings, Lander taking the lead.

  “Where are we going?” I whisper.

  He stops to check around the corner of a building then holds a finger up to his lips, signaling now is not the time to talk. He nods for us to move forward, then reaches out and takes my hand in his.

  I draw a quick, sharp breath. No one’s ever held my hand before. Is this just to help us stick together, or is he actually holding my hand? The feel of his fingers around mine is so personal, so connected, and really, really exciting. Is it this way for everyone? If so, why would the Lost ever give this up for their virtual phantoms?

  As we dart from residence column to residence column, he looks back at me several times. The LED lights of the nearby buildings cast a glossy glow to his eyes, but I can’t read his expression. He seems pleased, or maybe it’s amused. No doubt he still thinks I’m a shrieking dork.

  Finally, we’re past the buildings and in the village park, where there are only four cameras and a few scattered street LEDs. I still have no idea where he intends to go.

  As we near the back of the park, the village perimeter fence looms as a tall shadowy line on the horizon. “That’s the perimeter fence, Lander. We’re not allowed outside of it. Not to mention there really isn’t a way out except the air tram.”

  “It’s only an obstacle if you choose to see it as such,” he says.

  I hate his philosophical crap. “No, it’s not an obstacle; it’s an actual physical wall blocking our current trajectory. One that we’ll be in super big trouble, not to mention danger, if we try to go outside of.”

  His hold on my hand tightens. “They do a bang-up brainwashing job, don’t they?”

  I blink. “What? Who?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  We reach the wall, topped with electric razor wire, signs all over it warning of the lethal level of voltage waiting above. The walls themselves are reinforced poly-plex so they don’t block the light or the view beyond.

  Lander drops his hold on my hand. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  I raise hands to either side. “Where else would I go?” It wasn’t my idea to come traipsing out here after dark.

  Lander searches the ground for who-knows-what and wanders a ways off.

  I walk up to the twenty-foot-tall structure and press both palms against it. It’s cold to the touch and so smooth it’s slippery. Probably coated with Slicks so it never needs to be cleaned.

  I run my hand back and forth across its surface, staring into the darkened forest beyond. Everyone knows these walls keep out everything that could be dangerous: unidentified persons, wild animals, brush fires—the list is extensive. But suddenl
y I wonder what good things it keeps out too. Grandma Jo? Naturalized plant life? Different ideas and ways of doing things?

  I look to see if Lander is on his way back. It’s hard to tell, but I think his silhouette is getting bigger. I gaze back at the translucent wall. I wonder if I am something it’s intended to keep in?

  “This way,” he says and nods for me to follow. “You’re not opposed to getting a little dirty, are you?”

  “I suppose it depends on how you mean that,” I say.

  He looks at me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “You’ve been hanging out with me too much. I mean literally, as in: covered in dirt.”

  I narrow my eyes, still unwilling to answer just yet. “What’s the activity?”

  He stops short and points at the ground in front of him. “Tunnel stealing.”

  There at his feet is a black circular hole, no more than three feet around.

  My stomach drops and I take several steps backwards, shaking my head vigorously. “N-no. No. Uh-uh. I can’t. It’s dark and dusty, and who knows what’s living down there. If my asthma acts up—”

  Lander slides up next to me and slips his arm firmly around my shoulders. “Easy, Averi. I brought your grandma’s tincture just in case. Oh yeah, and these.”

  He pulls two pairs of sunglasses out of his pocket and hands a pair to me.

  “It’s already dark. I don’t need blinders on,” I say.

  He puts them on for me and hits a button on their frame. Instantly, everything is much brighter.

  “Oh, and here.” He slips a small cylindrical object into my hand and presses the button at the top. “It’s called a lit-less light.”

  A beam of light blares from the end of it like a high-beam flashlight, but when I peek over the rims of my glasses, the world around us is still completely dark. I shine it down in the hole, and the gravelly soil is perfectly clear to see.

  “Better?” he asks, his hopeful face peeking around into my view.

  I relax a little. “Yeah. Ok, I think I can try it now.” I take several deep breaths.

  “I’ll go first and then help you down.” Lander sits on the ground and slides into the small pit.

  I gulp and press my eyes shut. I should have just shut the blinds when I saw him outside my window tonight, not let him in. My heart is hammering the back side of my ribcage.

  “You coming or not?” he whispers from the tunnel.

  I sit down on the edge, dangling my feet over it, bracing my hand on the grassy ground. As I ease myself off the ledge, Lander’s hands find my waist and tighten around me. The pressure of his hands on my hips makes me draw a quick breath. I grab hold of his wrists to help steady myself as he lowers me down.

  I exhale my pent-up breath as my feet touch the ground. The air in here is heavy with moisture and the smell of damp earth.

  “You all right?” he asks.

  I nod and note that his hands are still on me.

  “Good. Now follow me. The cameras just outside the walls are motion, heat, and sound activated, so be as quiet as possible. I don’t know how well the dirt above us actually blocks their sensors.”

  We walk in silence down the dirt shaft for what seems like almost an hour. Tiny white roots dangle from the ceiling like thousands of spider legs. They brush the top of my hair and I jump, then duck a little lower. Finally, moonlight streams in through an opening ahead of us.

  Lander pulls himself out first then lowers his hands to lift me up. My ascent is far less than graceful and is more of a struggle than I think even he anticipated. After I—oh so awkwardly—make it up and out, Lander sits with his hand draped over his knee, quietly chuckling at me while we catch our breath. Dirt is in my hair, clothes, and even my mouth.

  I try to give him my best glare, but his heart-melting smile makes it hard to do a convincing job. It’d serve him right if the sensors pick up his chuckle and get him in trouble.

  The towering pines surrounding us rustle in the cool night breeze. I try to spot the village between their massive trunks, but the wall is just a smudgy line in the distance. That tunnel was longer than I realized.

  Lander rises to his feet and extends his hand out to me, helping me stand. “Now for the adventurous part.” He glances me up and down, then throws an arm around my shoulders with a friendly squeeze.

  I’m beginning to wonder where the heck we’re going, and if I should actually keep following Lander. At this point, if I tried to go back on my own I know I’d get lost. Every step we take farther away from the safety of the village and deeper into the dark, eerie woods, feels increasingly heavy. My heart is beating so loud I can hear it in my ears. You’d think I was jumping from one of those old airplanes I saw in my history unit. I always wondered why people would do something so clearly crazy and possibly deadly, and now here I am. Way to succeed in life, Averi.

  I have a death grip around the shears in my purse, as if they’d actually protect me against a wild animal or worse. “Lander, I don’t know about this. Maybe we should head home now.”

  He looks back as if to check whether I’m serious. “It’s not much farther. What’s the matter?”

  I glance around the woods, but even with the glasses the trees are too thick to see much. “We’re really far from the village. We’re not supposed to be out here to begin with. It’s dangerous. I mean, we don’t even have a way to defend ourselves from wild animals.” Not to mention people.

  He eyes my hand that’s buried in my purse. “You forget to bring your pruning shears or something?”

  I force my fingers to drop them, then glower at him. “Not funny.”

  He grins and dips his chin to his chest, shaking his head. “Sorry. Look, you can hold my hand again if you want to.”

  I shove my hands deep into my jacket’s pockets. “I don’t see how that’ll fix anything.” The offer is actually tempting. However, since I’m not too sure whether it’s wild animals or him I should be the most concerned about, it’s probably a bad idea.

  I finally plant my feet firmly on the ground. “Tell me where we’re going. I need to know,” I say as firmly as I can amidst my shortness of breath.

  He raises his hands out to either side of him. “You’ll see when we get there. I don’t want to ruin the surprise. You’ll love it, trust me.”

  “I don’t trust you,” I say.

  Lander’s arms immediately drop to his sides, and he watches me for a moment. He rolls his words around before speaking them. “Fair enough. It used to be called a library. Ever heard of those before?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  What Lander termed to be a library looks more like a long metal tube with a pointed roof on top. If memory serves, it’s called a trailer. In faded rusty letters it says Navajo County Library on the side. Lander picks the old rusty lock and we slip through the door.

  My nerves are buzzing like crazy. I shouldn’t be so anxious about this part. Heck, this is probably the least risky part of the whole evening; this place is abandoned and forgotten, so it’s not like anyone will catch us here. Still, something about its forsakenness makes this place eerie.

  Our lit-less lights help, but they don’t entirely remedy the discomfort.

  “Feel free to look around,” he says. “You said you’re from this area, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah, from the village. Born and raised.”

  He nods and points towards a row of tall, square metal drawers. “If you check the local archives, I bet you might be able to learn something about your folks.”

  I look back at him. “What are you going to be doing?” I ask.

  “I have my own treasure hunt to work on.” His eyes are shining like a little kid playing hide and seek—and winning.

  I glance around at the cobwebs and dust. “All right, but if you hear me scream, you’d better come running.”

  He smiles. “Deal.”

  I’ve never been around more than a dozen or so physical books in all my life. This place must have thousands. It’s amazing. Paper bo
oks were done away with long before my time.

  The knowledge in them was just too stagnant for the ever-changing world of the social progressive era.

  But paper books had one thing going for them—actually, it’s the same thing once thought their weakness; they are concrete. A printed book can’t be easily altered.

  I wander around, my eyes searching over the once colorful, now faded turned-out spines of books. Some of them are little more than a vertical pile of crumbs, while others have tiny dirt tubes encasing corners of them.

  On the wall are remnants of bright green and yellow posters depicting various creatures reading books.

  A pink poster with six cartoon girls reading books in pretty, colorful gowns catches my eye. Judging by the crowns on their heads, I think they’re supposed to be princesses. Beside it, signs announce a summer reading program. Wow, they used that term and ridiculous gimmicks even way back then?

  Finally, I reach the wall with the drawers. A small sign above them says archives.

  I pull open the drawer with the latest posted starting date and no ending date. It’s from nearly sixty-five years ago. Inside, I find newspapers. I pull out the farthest one back and read the headline.

  NAVAJO COUNTY BOYS’ WRESTLING TAKES STATE

  I put it back and jump a little farther ahead.

  Polls show teens prefer texting and social media use over getting a driver’s license. What does this mean for the future of the transportation industry?

  The next one reads:

  Is virtual gaming as addictive as crack? What to do if your teen can’t function without their phone.

  Next:

  Family of five found dead in their home. Cause of death: starvation due to social media usage.