Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2)

by Letto, Heather

  “I’m not going to let you go again.”

  Chapter 32

  RETTER

  This next stage of the journey would prove to be the slowest and most difficult. He wished he could exit with the kids and take the elevator to the Ranch. Had anyone even noticed them missing yet? Ret had racked his brain for another way, but this was it. He couldn’t risk it. They were too close.

  He blew out a breath and wiped his gritty neck while gazing over the queue of kids. They watched him, eyes filled with expectation, while he formulated the plan. He noticed Erin, the girl with the soft brown hair and quiet demeanor. Probably nine or ten years old and nearing the Age of Accountability.

  He smiled and called her forward. She flinched, as if she wasn’t used to being noticed. “You’ll go first.”

  Her shoulders lifted and she wore an expression that wavered between a smile and a frown. Her eyes did a quick roll skyward as she panned the dark chute and spoke up with a voice not much louder than a whisper. “Why me?”

  Ret urged her forward and loosened the light from its strap. He eased the leather cord off his forehead and tied it around Erin’s, taking care not to tangle her fine brown strands into the tie. He leaned in and whispered, “Because you’re the strongest,” before standing to address her in a voice the whole group could hear.

  “I’ll be the lifter.” He patted her shoulder and nudged her toward the opening. “You’ll hold my light and help guide the others.”

  Erin inched forward until she sat below the opening and then turned back to Ret. He nodded and knelt down next to her. “They’ll be scared. Just keep calm and organized.” Then he tapped his own shoulders and nodded. “Hop on.”

  As soon as she climbed onto Ret’s shoulders, he rose to his full height. She’d still have to pull herself up onto the landing, but he knew she could do it. Erin wriggled her body, lifted herself, and with a small kick and scraping of her boot against his jaw, moved onto the landing.

  “Okay.” She looked over the side and the light flashed into Ret’s eyes. “I’m ready.”

  “You did great, Erin. Now just keep that light shining.”

  Ret ducked and moved out of the chute. He could barely see the faces from the glow emitting above, but felt the tension that hung in the shadows—silent and thick.

  “Adam. You’re next.”

  The kids shuffled to the side and Adam made his way up from the back.

  “Did you see how I did it with Erin?”

  Adam nodded.

  “Alright, then tough guy,” Ret crouched low, “up you go.”

  Lacking the gentle grace of Erin, and with a few digs of his heels into Ret’s back, Adam wrestled his way up until seated on Ret’s shoulders. As soon as he stood, Ret felt a searing in his scalp as Adam yanked a handful of hair to balance himself. Then, Adam jammed his heels into Ret’s shoulders, and with a quick wallop that left Ret’s ears ringing, joined Erin on the landing. The two whispered and giggled as Ret reeled from their unintended wounds. Of course they didn’t know.

  Three more to go.

  He felt a trickle move from his temple along his jaw line. Could be sweat, could be blood. He swiped the back of his hand over the moisture and moved on, not allowing it to slow him down. His skin felt raw and he swallowed hard. His mouth, lips, and throat screamed for relief.

  He knelt down and captured the attention of the remaining three. Jamie wriggled her way forward. “Me next,” she declared and attempted to crawl up Ret’s back.

  Ret respected her boldness. “How about I lift you up instead?” He picked up the small girl and as he stood upright in the chute, lifted her overhead. She squealed as he passed her off to Adam and Erin.

  Next Josiah and then Arnold were secured onto the landing, and after rubbing a few new battle wounds, Ret jumped, gripped the edge of the landing, and pulled himself upward. He surveyed the bunch and noticed they seemed to have lost their initial fear, and instead appeared excited for round two.

  Ret rubbed his neck and shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and then called Erin forward to begin the next round.

  Chapter 33

  FRAN

  After she promised Pete she’d stay put, he released his hold. Fran sat up and on a huff smoothed her gown. The light from the Agora lit up the tunnel enough to make out their shadowy forms, and even though she’d scampered, climbed, and wrestled all day in the attire of a villager, Fran felt a familiar wave of her old self-consciousness as she sat across from Pete in her silky robe. She tucked the edges under her bottom and pinched together a tear in the fabric before folding her knees to the side. As her eyes honed in on Pete, she saw him lift a brow, while he watched her gather the hem.

  Fran returned the sentiment with a snort. “Not quite like the old days, huh?”

  Pete shook his head and cleared his throat. “Why were you running?”

  Fran heaved a sigh and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s complicated.”

  Pete shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of time,” he said, as he eased his back against the pipe.

  Fran, glad for the space, drew in a breath. She wanted nothing more than to say, “Never mind. I just lost my head.” She knew Pete would blame himself when she told him about the water. Then again, if she didn’t tell him, she could be setting him up for a catastrophic fail. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she weighed her options. Pete gave a quick nod of his head to her spur her on.

  “Well. I mean …” Fran puffed out a breath. “Don’t you wonder how the Graphies always seem to know where you are?”

  “What do you mean, know where I am?”

  “Well, you said it yourself. Every time you try to exit, a Graphie appears by the vent.”

  Pete hissed out a laugh. “Bad timing?”

  He had a gift of making everything seem okay. So normal. Just watching him shrug away what would’ve sent her into a complete tailspin made her realize why she liked him. He softened her edges—covered her saltiness with his own brand of sweet. Even with his hair standing on end and bony shoulders poking like razor blades through his shirt, she wanted to lean in and let his casual calm cover her. She pretended to adjust her gown and scooted a smidge closer.

  “They can track us all, Pete. Every single person inside of the city. We’re tagged just like cattle in the sub-floor ranch.”

  Pete reached behind his neck as if looking for the metal tag.

  “No, Pete. Not like that.” She pointed to her empty satchel. “It’s in the water.”

  “What? How? That doesn’t make any sense. Everyone drinks water. Even you—”

  Pete’s last words hung in the air. His jaw hung and his eyes took on a faraway look.

  “I was cleaned, Pete. Outside. They called it a detox. It worked. I am, or was free.”

  “Ret?” Pete whispered.

  “Clean.”

  Pete stopped and held up a finger as if he could somehow disprove her theory. “What about the kids?”

  “They still have a little time. It doesn’t kick in until our hormones do. Right around the time we were learning The Art of a Perfect Kiss, the Council’s army was setting up camp in our bodies.”

  “And so you’re saying?”

  “I’m saying that once we’ve detoxed, we can live outside without worry. I’m saying that to truly go off the grid, we can’t partake in their ways. I’m saying—”

  Pete’s whisper cut Fran off. “That until I fed you water, you were free.”

  Fran nodded and watched as Pete’s expression grew with horror. “Oh no. Oh no.” His head shook. “No!” He smacked himself in the forehead. “Wolf, what did I do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Maybe nothing. That’s what I was hoping to find out.”

  Pete looked at her like she’d gone mad. “Out there? You were going to go out there and test the waters? What, are you on a suicide mission?”

  “Something like that,” she muttered under her breath.

  Pete shook his head. “Not on my watch.” He cros
sed his arms, shot out his legs and planted his feet on the opposing wall, creating a human blockade.

  Fran rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You think that will stop me?”

  “No.” Pete allowed his feet to slide along the metal. His chin dropped and he blew out an enormous sigh, like he’d been holding his breath for a lifetime. He looked up at Fran, and began to speak with a sort of softness—new and totally out of character for Pete.

  “Fran, I’ve had plenty of crud heaped upon this long life. To be honest? I almost get where you’re coming from. I mean, there were plenty of times when I thought it would be easier to die than to walk another loser day around this loser city.”

  Pete dropped his gaze and examined his hands. Without looking back up, he continued, “I’d wander the Agora numb, wondering if I would be better off just to sign the Forfeiture papers and get it all over with. Who would even notice if I was gone? What did it matter?”

  Pete folded deeper into himself, nodded, and Fran watched him relive his old pain. On a snort, he lifted his head and the old smile reemerged. “But then, on a day just like any other, I saw a dirty and tattered wolf prowling through the crowd, snatching bits and pieces of chow out from underneath unsuspecting noses of the elite.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “So I followed that wolf around the Agora, eager to see what she’d do next. That’s when I noticed hidden below all the grime, those blue eyes. Steely. Confident. They reflected something I hadn’t seen since …” Pete shook his head, “… well, ever.”

  As Pete opened his heart to Fran, a ball welled in her chest so big, she feared it might pop on the smallest breath. The miniscule light in their space seemed to grab hold of Pete’s eyes and bounced off a single tear as it picked a path across his cheek.

  Pete snuffed and wiped his cheek onto his shirt. “Hope, Fran. You gave me hope.” He laughed a mucus-encased guffaw. “And, when you’re gone, that hope disappears right along with you.”

  His voiced dropped to a whisper. “Please don’t go.”

  Fran scooted in close and Pete lifted an arm to welcome her. She tucked herself in the perfect crevasse that formed and leaned her head onto his shoulder. Tired of worrying and tired of waiting for the world to be set right, she closed her eyes and listened to Pete’s heart. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on her head, bringing her back to that first kiss.

  “Let’s go find Ret,” Pete said.

  “Give me just another minute,” Fran answered as her world darkened.

  Chapter 34

  RETTER

  Ret squatted low and filled his lungs before his legs exploded into action launching him skyward to grip the landing overhead. The thick calluses on his palms had begun to shred under the intensity of the climb and the hard, dusty metal burned like salt in the fresh wounds. With trembling arm and back muscles, he wrenched his body upward. White-hot pain exploded along his neck and shoulders as his muscles battled gravity.

  He lifted his chin and his eyes locked on the lumpy silhouette of the conglomeration of kids waiting for him on the platform. On a mighty roar and a swing of his legs, his body lifted the few final inches until his chest cleared the floor. He flopped facedown onto the cold surface, panting from the effort.

  When the swirling in his head lessened, Ret wriggled the rest of his body onto the landing and sat upright. His could feel his left eye, which had accidentally gotten in the way of Josiah’s—or maybe Adam’s—boot, beginning to swell. The puffiness in his cheek and surrounding the socket obscured his vision as he looked down at his hands through the narrowed chasm in his face. The ripped calluses that had torn away from the flesh of his hands created dangling flaps. They hung on by a thread of skin and fresh blood trickled along his palms. He pressed a finger onto the folds in an attempt to reset the limp flesh before realizing it to be a lost cause. He peeled the remaining skin from his hand and suffered momentary blindness as the pain tore through his senses. Once the shock subsided, he yanked a piece of canvas that had already begun to tear from his shirt and wrapped it around his hand.

  When the faces of the kids came back into focus he saw five expressions of horror. He tried to imagine the sight he’d become, grunting and growling his way up the platforms, bloodied and bruised from his scrapes and abrasions. He tried to smile at the group but realized, too late, that amidst his swollen face, it probably resembled more of a hideous sneer.

  Erin sucked in her breath and reached out to touch Ret’s tattered face. “Did we do this to you?”

  “It’s okay, Erin. I’ll be fine,” Ret croaked. “Not only that, but we’re already halfway there.” He patted his shoulders. “Hop on.”

  Chapter 35

  FRAN

  Pete’s chin rested on her head and the warmth of his breath sent goose bumps down her neck. From his deep, rhythmic breathing, she figured Pete to be asleep and luxuriated in his quiet nearness. The essence of cheesy cologne still clung to his T-shirt and Fran inhaled his earthy essence—a smell she could only describe as 100% Pete.

  She entertained the possibility that they both might get out of this place and wondered how life might look outside with Pete along. Would he grow ginormous muscles like Ret? She allowed her brain to play make-believe for another minute and pictured them by the river, skipping stones on the water while slurping back mouthfuls of plump berries. She thought about how after piercing the flesh, the sweet juice of the fruit would explode onto her tongue. She imagined liquid trickling down her throat. However, when she swallowed in real time, a thick paste of dust and saliva raked along her throat. Thirst was a painful thing.

  She touched the side where the water satchel had hung with no idea where it had ended up. She wondered just how much Impervious water she would have to consume before she showed up back on the grid. Had those few gulps really done any damage? Could she sip a little bit more and still be safe? With eyes shut tight, she tried to muster up some saliva from the folds of her cheeks to lubricate her throat, but instead pasty phlegm sat like drying concrete on her palate. She kicked around more thoughts of juicy fruit and the rushing river until her shriveled apricot of a tongue cried for mercy.

  Fran untangled herself from Pete and maneuvered around his body. Maybe she should test the waters. Just to see how close she could get before the Graphie came to life. She swished toward the opening, but stayed just outside the reaches of light. Electronic prickliness crawled across her skin and she scratched at the itchy sensation. With her ears tuned in to the sounds outside the tunnel, she listened for the almost imperceptible hum that resonated from live Graphies. No sound emitted and she smiled, hoping that indicated “hibernate” mode. She caterpillared a little closer and listened.

  Nothing.

  As Fran peeked back over her shoulder, Pete still snored, deep in REM sleep. She crept another few inches. The opening now sat close enough that she could see a random set of legs pass by. She moved the last few feet, pressed her cheek against the mesh in Pete standard style, and rolled her eyes upward to the electronic giant stationed on the other side.

  Gentle waves undulated across his form, and from his semi-opaqueness, Fran could see he was, indeed, in sleep mode. She counted five slow breaths while waiting for him to come alive.

  Nothing. Her expression blossomed. Still off the grid.

  With one last check on sleeping Pete, she waved a hand over the beam of light in the corner. The holographic pad emerged, and she swiped the code. Just as the venting hummed, Pete began to stir.

  She checked her shoulder just as his eyes shot open. With a finger over her lips, she mimed the word, “shhhhh,” but Pete cartwheeled onto hands and knees and scrambled forward.

  The noise. The commotion. Pete’s DNA. It all acted as one cohesive alarm clock for the sleeping giant. Fran’s head whipped back around as the buzzing arose and saw his details begin to pixelate.

  She dove through the opening.

  “Fran!” The desperation in his voice dug at her insides.

  She wanted to tel
l him she’d be right back and not to worry, but as the gigantic holograph’s red eyes scanned the crowd, her old panic arose. She dove into the river of people, just like she’d done a thousand times before. As the tide carried her away, she watched Pete’s face, mashed up against the grating, mirroring the same panic that raced through her own gut.

  Chapter 36

  RETTER

  Ret’s legs trembled as he rose from a squat. He’d lifted each kid up five platforms so far. On his periphery, he could see Erin and Adam, already perched on the platform, reaching out to grab for Josiah. They had become one body—a well-oiled machine working together, with Ret acting as the engine driving them forward. One more floor to go.

  Josiah wriggled from Ret’s shoulders, grazing his thick boot along Ret’s already chafed jaw. His bruised flesh screamed under Josiah’s final push, but Ret, relieved to have the package delivered, ducked out of the shoot and moved to Jamie.

  “Ready?”

  Jamie kept her head down and nodded without looking back at Ret.

  Despite the fact that his aching legs screamed in protest, he squatted down to her level. He had to look at her through a single eye as his other one had swollen shut, but with his index finger he lifted Jamie’s chin. As she looked into Ret’s face, Jamie began to cry and threw herself into his arms.

  “You’re all tore up,” she wailed.

  Ret held her and rubbed her tiny back. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m a big guy. I’m going to be just fine, I promise.” He peeled her from his chest. Jamie’s entire chin trembled with emotion.

  “As soon as we get out of here, my mommy will fix it,” Ret promised.

  Her eyes grew wide. “You have a mommy?”

  Ret swept her into his arms and began to lift her overhead. “Yep. And my mommy can make everyone better.”