Exiled_Kenly's Story

by Sophie Davis

  James grinned and a bolt of fear ran through me. Alarms started going off in my head.

  Kenly, you need to go, now.

  He was going to turn me in.

  Kenly! Why are you still sitting there?

  I was so stupid to trust these people. When would I learn?

  Nonchalantly, as if adjusting positions, I put my feet on the ground. My hand was on the wooden armrest, ready to help propel me off of the futon.

  What are you waiting for? Willa’s been lying to you for weeks, tracking you. Even if you did trust her, James is an entirely different person, totally untrustworthy.

  I adjusted to the balls of my feet, butt hovering millimeters over the lumpy mattress.

  “That depends.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, admittedly intrigued.

  Who gives a shit what it depends on, go now.

  James was still casually leaned back in the corner of the futon. It would buy me precious seconds if I bolted before he had his feet on the floor.

  “They say the Created are dangerous. Are you dangerous, Kenly?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

  The one word slipped out before I gave it any thought. “Extremely.”

  James’s grin widened. “Good.”

  “Good?” I repeated, unsure I’d heard him correctly.

  James reached over and switched the lamp off, once again plunging the room into total darkness. I tensed, muscles readied for a fight. Then I heard the futon groan as James readjusted. Though I couldn’t see him, I could feel his knee brush my leg as he settled onto his back. Apparently heading off on a chase was the farthest thing from his mind. Even more apparent was the fact that I’d just been dismissed.

  Seriously? You’re going to end this conversation a cliffhanger? I thought.

  I shook my head, more confused by the abrupt dismissal than the bizarre Vision I’d had earlier. Slowly, I stood and, using my brain’s snapshot of the living room to avoid tripping over anything, headed to Honora’s—my?—bedroom. There was another squeak from the futon, probably James extending his legs to rest where I’d been sitting. I could imagine him stretched out, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his bare stomach, feet dangling off the end of the cushion.

  “UNITED doesn’t need any more dangerous agents.” His voice broke the stillness of the apartment just as I reached my bedroom door. James paused and I didn’t fill the silence by correcting his assumption that UNITED wanted me for an agent. Instead, I waited, hand resting on the doorknob, for his next words.

  “No amount of money is enough for me to aid the Poachers. No one deserves what they to do people,” James said quietly. “Good night, Kenly.”

  James had just used my name for the first time.

  MORNING CAME MUCH too soon. I quickly learned that my new friends had a practiced routine when it came to their day-to-day lives. One that involved James banging on the bathroom door and shouting at Honora to “hurry the bloody hell up” and Riley preparing to-go mugs of instant coffee with the consistency of motor oil.

  Through blurry eyes, I watched with fascination as the trio—Willa had left before I woke—find missing shoes underneath the futon, locate a wayward nametag next to the kitchen sink, and avoid spitting toothpaste in each other’s hair as they all tried to brush their teeth at the same time.

  At some point in the predawn madness it had been decided that I was to accompany Honora to work. I was given neither an explanation as to why nor a choice in the matter. But exhaustion made it so that I didn’t really care. The promise of unlimited scones and bottomless cups of tea didn’t hurt either.

  I soon learned that Honora worked at a gaming café uptown called the Techno Hut. From the flat, we had to walk three blocks to the road bus stop, change buses twice, and then go four stops on the Tube. When I asked her why she worked so far from home, she breezily replied, “Tips are better uptown.”

  But I couldn’t help feeling that her answer was a half-truth, and that the real reason had more to do with safety. Surely she’d notice someone following her at some point during a ninety-minute commute.

  The previous night’s conversation with James weighed heavily on my mind. Particularly the part about how my presence put them at risk. He was right; they were all in significant danger now that I was living there. Everyone would be safer if I left, which I’d been contemplating before Honora had been given the task of babysitting me for the day.

  Tomorrow, I assured myself, you can always run tomorrow. Today, take advantage of the free food and hot tea.

  Knowing that my new friends were aware of my secret, aware that I was Created, was comforting in a way. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. They understood the hazards of allowing me to stay with them, not only where UNITED was concerned but also from the Poachers and the street gangs, yet they still invited me into their lives. It made me feel less alone. And I desperately wanted to feel—to be—less alone. I tried not to question the motives behind the great kindness they were showing me, even though I was curious. What exactly did they get out of this new living arrangement?

  Riley worked for a dry-cleaning service that was on the same block as the Techno Hut, so he made the trek uptown with Honora and me. No one said it, but I was pretty sure that the close proximity of their workplaces was by design. Even in daylight, this group travelled as a pack. This added to the warm fuzzies I was starting to feel towards them. They really did watch each other’s backs. And wanted them to watch mine, too.

  As we walked, Honora told me that James was a hover mechanic, working for a repair shop as the home-visit guy. When wealthy clients either couldn’t be bother to, or wouldn’t deign to, bring their vehicles into the city to be serviced, the shop sent James out to their country estates. According to Honora, he was very good at his job. The downside was that they paid him next to nothing because he didn’t have any formal training or education. When I asked her how James learned so much about cars, though, all she’d say was, “You’ll have to get that story from him.”

  At the Tube station exit, Honora and I finally parted ways with Riley. We continued on to a storefront with flashing neon signs above large bay windows. As soon as we were through the entranceway, Honora disappeared into the back, promising to check on me periodically. While she worked, I set up camp in a cozy red armchair by the window. I soon lost track of time as I became engrossed in watching the world outside.

  The neighborhood was worlds nicer than the Slums. A lot of the teenagers that came into the café reminded me of Riley, with his colored tips and freaky eyes. Many had face piercings, and a number had tattoos decorating every inch of exposed skin. The current style for guys—this neighborhood could clearly afford to be trendy, instead of just whatever-you-could-find-at-the-goodwill chic—was midriff-baring shirts and neon pants. For girls, it was a lot of skinny black neckties, tiny microskirts in a plethora of bright colors, and jewel-tone rain boots all made by some company with a tiny white dog as their logo. Though a few who came in did look like me—boring in jeans and t-shirts. Albeit, their clothes were cleaner than mine. But not much. Shabby was apparently in. Given my current financial situation, I couldn’t imagine anything more foolish than paying for new clothes that were designed to look dirty and worn.

  Regardless, the Techno Hut was great for me. I fit right in. For that matter, no one stood out. Everyone blended. And blending was how I stayed hidden.

  Evidently, the Techno Hut was known as the hub in London for gamers and cybernetic games. One in particular seemed to bring people in droves: Helix, the latest, greatest, and most complex cyber game made yet. Oddly, the game itself seemed to be loosely based on TOXIC, particularly the Hunters Division. But since it was created from the imaginations of tech-originators, the game included fantastical elements and imaginary realms that only existed in the minds of the truly creative.

  In Helix, the player started out as an ordinary human and was assigned missions, which ranged from solving puzzles to
assassinating other players. Along the way the player collected Talents—the game called them gifts, but they were cool abilities, clearly mimicking Talents—and were able to use them to advance through the worlds. Just to make things interesting, there were all sorts of mutant creatures that attacked the players out of nowhere. The beasts were terrifyingly realistic—dead ringers for the animals born right after The Great Contamination.

  After waiting on her paying customers, Honora brought me a plate of scones and a pot of tea.

  Damn, I could get used to this, I thought, polishing off my third scone. But don’t, the logical part of my brain warned.

  Decadent scones weren’t exactly in my budget at the moment. It was unlikely they ever would be again. While pouring a second cup of vibrant jasmine tea, I told myself to enjoy the simple pleasures while I could. I’d taken so much for granted while under TOXIC’s care, a mistake I would never make again.

  On Honora’s next trip by my table, she asked if I wanted cyber gear for playing any of the Techno Hut’s games. I hesitated before answering. A lifetime seemed to have passed since I last played a cyber-game, back in the dorm with my friends before our worlds had turned upside down. The trivial luxury seemed so extravagant now.

  Which, apparently, it was.

  Because, as Honora explained during the late morning lull in customers, in the real world only the wealthiest of the wealthy actually owned Mega consoles with BrainSkim—my favorite system since its release—for playing the latest, most progressive games. Everyone else had one of two options. They could either play without the sophisticated technology, at home on personal consoles with only hand receivers, or pay to play the ultramodern systems in public meccas, like the Hut.

  At the McDonough School, our common rooms in the dorms had been outfitted with BrainSkim—technology that linked the player’s mind to that of her onscreen counterpart by performing continuous surface brain scans. This allowed the avatar to think, move, and react just as the player would. Having grown up with the technology, I’d figured it was commonplace. It had never occurred to me that “normal” teenagers weren’t so lucky. Helix, though, was new, even for me, and I found myself too intrigued to pass up the opportunity to play.

  Securing the headpiece and attaching the tech scanners, a hologram appeared on the table in front of me. Only I could see it, which is how Mega handled multi-player games work. As I quickly flew through the game set-up menu, calibrating the settings to my specific brain waves, I actually forgot about my current plight. Swept away in the virtual world, I got a much-needed break from reality. The feeling was glorious.

  It was as if Helix was designed specifically for me. It played to my strengths, allowing me to show off in the cyber world what I could not in the real one. Hours flew by, my eyes stinging from staring at the holoscreen on the table in front of me. My arms hurt from exploring and hunting through the Forest of the Forgotten. I crossed Hero’s Lake, climbed to the top of Mt. Soulless. I was kicking cyber ass and adding each opponent’s name to my kill list.

  Up ahead, to the right, should be those throwing knives you have hidde—

  “Are you bloody mental?”

  The holoscreen vanished. I blinked up in surprise, and found angry platinum eyes glaring down at me. James was towering over my chair, and he was pissed.

  “Seriously?” I demanded, peeling off the gloves. They were useless now, James had actually flipped the switch to the console. “I was winning.”

  James bent over, leaning down until his mouth was next to my ear. He smelled like motor oil and freshly cut grass. His breath was warm on my neck, but I shivered when he spoke. “Right, you’re winning, that’s just brilliant. Nice one there, Chief. No one is that good at this game yet. You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

  “Maybe I play a lot at home,” I retorted.

  “Besides the fact you don’t bloody well pass as posh enough to own a Mega, the game hasn’t yet been out a week. Only a human computer can crack the codes at the end of each level as quickly as you are.” He stood up again and whirled around to face a startled Honora. It was clear he was fighting the urge to actually yell, and losing. “And you! You’re not dim, Honora! You’ve watched her play Helix all day and didn’t think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a good idea?”

  “She’s right good,” Honora said, confused, before I could jump to her defense.

  I was relieved I wasn’t the only one who thought James was being a tad dramatic.

  James swore as he sank into the armchair opposite mine.

  “Are you hungry?” Honora asked hesitantly, dark eyes darting nervously between James and me. When he saw how unsettled we both were, he let out a weighty sigh. And just like that, his anger dissipated, leaving behind only frustration. I could’ve been mistaken, but he also appeared somewhat sheepish for losing his temper.

  “No. Sorry, Honora. But I’d fancy a black coffee, if you don’t mind.”

  “Don’t worry about it, we get it,” she replied, looking visibly relieved. “Kenly, you alright? Anything I can get you?”

  I looked down at my mostly full teacup and half eaten scone. “I’m good,” I told her.

  Sitting there alone with James was awkward to say the least. Today he was dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved gray t-shirt that fit him very well, both with random grease stains. He’d clearly washed his face after work, but had missed a spot just above his left eyebrow where a smudge of black remained. A strange twisting in my stomach caught me off guard.

  James is attractive, I realized. Annoying and broody, with a really bad attitude. But attractive.

  James studied me critically.

  “What?” I asked, self-consciously wiping my mouth to make sure there weren’t any lingering crumbs.

  “I’m sorry to you, too.” He muttered, grudgingly. Before I could even accept his apology, or explain, he rushed on. “But do you have any idea how maddening you are? You need to be a good bit more careful, Kenly. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to wind you up. But this is quite serious. Maybe being exceptionally good at a cyber-game doesn’t seem like a big deal. Maybe it isn’t. But it does draw notice. People will start to become inquiring about the fit gamer girl. They’ll fancy a chat. Then they’ll hear your American accent. Also not such a big deal. But at some point, you’ll get to feeling upset or happy or whatever, and your control will slip, and suddenly your hand disappears from sight. With all of those people noticing you, they’re going to notice that. A trick of the light? You might be able to sell that tale. Once. And again after that? Probably not. All of these slight, seemingly insignificant, things, they tally up. People will become suspicious and start to inspect you more closely. Sooner or later, you’ll make a gaffe that cannot be explained away. And then, it’s too late. The other Poachers will have caught your scent and be nipping at your tail. We have enough to worry about with the Monroes, we don’t need to be fretting about the rest, as well.”

  I swallowed hard, utterly ashamed of myself. James had a point. A really, really, good point. I couldn’t believe that he’d thought so far ahead. That was my thing. Higher Reasoning allowed me to calculate odds and probabilities, crack codes, be three steps ahead of everyone else. Yet, I seemed to be ten steps behind James.

  Riley and Willa arrived just as Honora returned with James’s coffee and a platter of cold ham, spicy-looking cheese, and Melba toast. The three of them saved me from attempting to fumble through a shoddy excuse for James.

  “In case you change your mind,” Honora said, setting the plate in the center of the small coffee table.

  There were only three armchairs—the fourth side of the table was pressed against the glass storefront—which were low and awkward for eating. Luckily, Willa and Riley didn’t seem to mind sharing a chair one bit. They wedged themselves into the empty seat with Willa draping her short legs across Riley’s lap. Guess they weren’t worried about displaying affection so far from home.

  “When you off, Honora?” Willa asked
, already piling several slabs of ham onto a toast square.

  Honora glanced down at the table where a digital clock told us it was 5:20 p.m. She sighed. “Two and a half hours. Pulling a ten hour shift today.”

  Riley and Willa exchanged a worried glance. I watched the two of them have a conservation with their eyes and wondered what they were discussing.

  “I’ll stay,” James volunteered, obviously understanding the lovebirds’ nonverbal cues. “Make sure they get back to the Barracks okay.” Despite telling Honora that he wasn’t hungry, he kept eyeing the cheese cubes.

  “Wait, if you guys don’t travel alone, how’d you get uptown, Willa?” I asked.

  “Granddad’s not feeling so well, and he’s quite stubborn. I was just trying to take care of him, and he practically told me to shove off. Paid for a road cab to bring me out here, door-to-door, to meet up with Riley. Or, well, rather the lot of you,” she said, blushing. “Just to get me outta the flat for a bit.”

  “Got it,” I said. “But you two aren’t staying? You just got here.”

  “Willa’s got to work and I’m manning the bar for ol’ Tug tonight. Gotta keep a look out for my girl here.” Riley unconsciously toyed with the hem of Willa’s short yellow sundress, which barely skimmed mid-thigh. Her smile was that of a girl in love and I again wondered how I’d missed it before.

  Riley looked almost normal today. His hair was in the usual spikes, but the ends were blonde, same as the roots. His eyes were a soft hazel, identical to Willa’s. Same as when he’d left the apartment this morning, he was dressed in a uniform of sorts. Faded black jeans hung low from his narrow hips and a white polo with Lynn’s Dry Cleaning embroidered over his heart.