Golden Dreg Boy, Book 1

by D. K. Dailey

  “Well, you’re stepping on my scarf, Kade.”

  She doesn’t mean to sing my name but she does, and it takes me a second or two to glance down. The delicate material is trapped under my left kick. “Why is it on the ground?”

  “I dropped it, you doink.” She follows that up with an irritated sound.

  As we bend over, our heads collide.

  “Ow.” She grabs hers, and I do the same. “What’s your problem?” The scarf lies forlornly between us.

  I shrug. She’s treating me like shucky, and I want to tell her, “I’m Golden!” She better respect me and all that. But my words don’t come. She can talk to me any way she wants as long as I’m around her.

  “How dumb can you be?” I move, and she stretches her hand out like a stop sign. “Don’t. I got it.”

  Bending over again, she disappears like a drawing someone has erased.

  Rustling, clinking, and treading noises wake me. I can tell it’s morning because a band of light has entered my cell. I hone in on the sounds. They’re farther down the hall and hard to hear. Drawing nearer, they’re obviously the guard’s pant legs rubbing together, the keys on his belt swaying, and his hard-soled boots tapping on the smooth cement floor.

  But that’s not the only noise. Someone walks in pace with him. I stand but don’t touch the bars.

  The second person must be my father. He works for the government. He can get me out of this mess. “A misunderstanding. It’s all a misunderstanding.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” The old man lies on his cot. He releases a constrained laugh, then coughs a bit. I hope he’s not sick. That’s all I need. To be in jail sharing close quarters with a sick old Dreg.

  Pausing to glare at him is not an option, so I study the hallway instead. They’re coming closer, but their faces cloud in the same darkness blanketing the cells. A few more steps…the guard is with a civilian woman. Upon closer look…Mom.

  They halt in front of my cell, and the cop says, “You have five minutes,” before retreating into darkness.

  “What are you doing here, Mom?”

  She moves forward quickly, excited to see me.

  “Don’t touch the bars!”

  She stops, less than a foot away, gazing at my cell.

  “They shock you. I found out the hard way.”

  The old Dreg laughs.

  Wildflowers Hidden in a Deep Forest doesn’t mix with the festering smell of staleness. Nevertheless, breathing her in and savoring the perfume is my goal. I don’t know when I’ll smell her again. Memories catapult forward…me sitting on her lap when I was little…kissing her on the cheek…her trying to cook the olden-way but burning the pan of food…

  “Your dad couldn’t come.”

  “Why?” My brow lifts in confusion.

  “He works with the premier, Kade. This is not the best situation for us to be involved in.” Wrapped around her body like a blanket is a black cape that makes her look petite and thin. The garment silhouettes her face in the dimly lit hallway. She blinks a few too many times. She’s trying to be incognito, and that upsets me. Makes me feel like she doesn’t support me or she’s ashamed of me being locked up.

  “This isn’t my fault,” I want to say. “It’s a misunderstanding you and Dad need to clear up, like now. Or hours ago, before I went to sleep and woke up after my first night in jail. Why is it taking so zarding long?” I should say all of that too. And then I should lay into her about how unfair this is. But that would only hurt her feelings. Deep down, I believe this will turn out fine.

  She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and wraps her arms around her body when a draft blisters through the hall.

  “Don’t worry. It’s only me and an old man.” I turn my back to her. “Why did you come, anyway if this ‘isn’t the best situation for us to be involved in’?”

  “Because I love you, Son.” Her voice cracks. I look back at her, and she’s blinking, fighting back tears. If she cries, I’m going to break down too.

  I plod a few steps forward to lean on the back wall and face her. The ten feet between us helps.

  “How come I’m still a prisoner? This seems really serious, Mom. What I don’t get is that you have my birth certificate. They’re saying I’m Dreg. You gave birth to me after the treatments, so it should be easy to prove this is a big misunderstanding.” I tug one of my thick eyebrows, pulling out a few blond hairs by accident.

  She reaches out a hand, then looks back and forth at the electric bars. “Your father did what he could.” She shakes her head. “I hate feeling hopeless. It’s like my sister leaving all over again.”

  I walk forward. “I thought your sister died.” Mom has only talked about her twin sister once or twice and never mentioned her by name because she said it was too painful. All I know is that she liked owls and died a long time ago.

  Mom continues to shake her head. “She said it would start. Pick a side, she said. You’ve forgotten who you are.”

  What is Mom talking about?

  “Are you okay?” I try meeting her eyes and then wave my hand in her face from behind the bars. “You’re talking cuckoo. Can you tell me if Dad is talking to the premier or not? Is he trying to get me out of here?”

  “I’m fine.” She shakes her head and leans forward. “Your dad had a hearing.”

  I perk up. “How’d it go?”

  She lowers her chin. “I have something to tell you. You have to know.”

  Sadness flickers over her face. Desperation, maybe? “What’s wrong?”

  She dips her head, and her hood conceals her face as she mumbles, “You know the fertility treatments. Well…”

  The old man moves to the front of his cell, rather loudly, but he won’t distract me. In the same moment, hard-soled boots stomp down the hall and keys clank on the guard’s belt.

  “The fertility story wasn’t quite true.”

  “Dad’s fertility advances are the reason I don’t get sick. You need to tell them!”

  “Time’s up.” The guard draws near.

  “But…” Mom says.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t give you any more time, Mrs. Shaw,” he says politely.

  “I can send more points to your c-chip,” she pleads. Mom has been reduced to begging. She had to pay to come see me, to talk to me? What is this world coming to?

  This is really happening. Not a nightmare after all. I’m in jail, and not even my rich, connected parents can get me out of this.

  “I’m sorry.” The guard whispers to my mother, but I still hear him. “There’s no more time to give. This facility is recorded. I can’t mess with the feed any more than I have.” He backs away. “Say your goodbyes now.”

  “There’s not much I can do.” She holds my gaze. “Your father spoke with the premier, and it doesn’t look good.” Her eyes dart around, and her distress is evident. Grabbing the crook of her elbow, the guard escorts her away.

  What does she mean it doesn’t look good for me? She’s acting like I was in the wrong. I’m not Dreg, so why are they treating me like I am? Why can’t Dad get me released? He’s second to the premier, for shucky sake!

  “What do you mean? Can’t you do anything? Why don’t you tell them, Mom!” Shouting does nothing. The guard’s hard footsteps next to the clicking of Mom’s heels echo in answer. This might have been the last time I see her.

  Shivering causes goose bumps to cover my skin, and retreating to my prickly cot is my only salvation. “Great. Now I’ll probably never know.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I pull at the chains and e-cuffs trapping me to the dark metal desk in the bright but cold room. Mom left hours ago, and a new cop has decided to question me bright and early. Blond and balding, he looks familiar. Maybe he’s on streams?

  He sits across from me. “Kade Shaw, do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?”

  “You’re new. Where’s the other cop?”

  “I’m the Commander-in-Chief of Battle Creek.”


  “So they brought the bigwig down here to question me?” A breath chugs out. “But since I’m underage, doesn’t a parent need to be present?”

  “They brought me to question and guard you. Unless you’re under sixteen, when accused of treason, you stand alone. As Commander, I’m charged with questioning you.”

  “Me having no parent here seems unfair and highly convenient for you.” I lean forward.

  “You won’t be quipping after tomorrow,” he says dryly.

  My lips tighten into a snarl. “Why did you take me from my cell?”

  “You Sector One prick.” He raises his voice. “Don’t question me. I question you. You act like your rich mom and dad can get you out of this.”

  I stare down at my cuffs, my not-so-subtle reminder to be humble. Maybe if this goes right, I can get out of this on my own. “Was I really arrested for treason?”

  “You spent the night in jail. That should have sunk in like sickness.” The commander’s heavy smirk irritates me. “Didn’t your mother tell you your father had a hearing and has been pardoned?” He chortles. “But you, you’re on your own, kid.”

  I gulp back the ache in the back of my throat. Mom didn’t say anything about a pardon. Why would Dad need to be pardoned? I shake off the discomfort squirming in the bottom of my stomach. “My father should be clearing my name soon then. I’ll get a pardon, too.”

  “He can’t do anything about the trouble you’re in.” The man’s lips curl into a crooked smirk. “Now tell me, how’d you infiltrate the Shaw family?” The cop pounds a fist on the table, forcing a sharp ringing into the stale air. “Who planted you there? How have you gone unnoticed for seventeen years?”

  Being pardoned for crimes means they think Dad knew I was Dreg and that somehow I wormed my way into my family. That’s an absurd allegation. I sit back, unwilling to play this game of who knows more. “If I supposedly infiltrated the Shaw family, I would’ve had to do that at birth. So obviously, I didn’t do anything, you stupid doink!”

  His facial expression falters in its strictness. “Maybe you’re in contact with whoever put you there.”

  “Or maybe Dad’s fertility treatment went well, and I’m a Golden that’s disease-free.” It’s what I’ve been told my whole life.

  “Lying won’t get you anywhere!” He pounds the table again. I notice his metal wrist band then that must be what controls some of the jail systems.

  “Apparently, neither will telling the truth.” My jaw twitches. “Why didn’t I get a hearing with the Premier, like my father?”

  “For some reason,” the commander opens his pounding hand, looks around the empty, open room, then leans forward over the table, “the premier is willing to overlook your father’s treasonous behavior, but not yours.”

  “You seem to have a very strong opinion about all of this.” I blow a breath through my nostrils. “I told you I haven’t committed treason.”

  He leans away. “As you can see, we don’t get much business down here, only the regular old-man Dreg. Dregs come and go quickly. No one stays long.”

  The way he says No one stays long stands all my hairs on edge. It sounds final.

  “And if it were only my opinion, you wouldn’t be here. Somebody has to take the fall.”

  “I was born Golden,” I grit through my teeth. I’m going to have to say this phrase a lot when dealing with doinks like him. And to think he’s the commander.

  He opens a flashscreen, and words appear, mingling with air particles. He reads and analyzes the info before speaking again. “Your parents had a hard time conceiving. Your father spawned research because of it.” He reads some more. “No fertility treatments were used on you. Those records were deemed false at his trial, and it was confirmed the first Begotten born was Emmaline Shaw. Your father created a new species.”

  “My sister? New species? My sister’s not Begotten! You have it wrong. The only Begotten born have been animals. And the interspecies trials failed. I’m the result of his fertility research. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “She’s the first successfully born human Begotten,” the commander confirms. “That’s straight from top-secret, sealed records only accessible through federal-level machines.” The heaviness returns to his features, in contrast with his persistent smirk. “And I’m telling you this only because you’re going to die.”

  Flipping the projected image into my line of vision, he points to the visible air particles that make up the flashscreen. A top-secret file is open with my sister’s name in it.

  Emmaline Shaw…Firstborn Begotten, property of the Americas…

  I close my eyes as if shielding out the truth. I’m so confused. Shocked. How can a Begotten have been born when lawmakers have debated the morality of even attempting it? Right now, creating one is against the law. Though they’re created solely in a lab from transplanted organs, they are made up of so many disparate parts that they were never truly born.

  “My sister can’t be Begotten.” I bend over and drop my head in my hands, the clink of chains another reminder of my state.

  “In the hearing, it looks like you father tried to say you were born from his advances in fertility. But if that were true, your genome testing wouldn’t have been inconclusive. That’s the red flag that proved his fertility claim untrue.” The commander pauses, silently reading on.

  Dad talked about genome testing when I listened at his door the other day. “We’ve got the genome sequence up and running. All citizens will be tested per your orders…”

  But I don’t remember being tested for anything. How did they test me without my knowledge? Was my genome sequence already on file because of my father’s position in the government? If he knew me or Ems was different, he’d keep us from taking tests to keep us safe, wouldn’t he? Maybe that’s why the testing was inconclusive. Him trying to protect me? But from what?

  “The only notes in your file are your immunities to sickness and diseases. And you can’t be Golden.” He closes the flashscreen with a down swipe of one hand and then leans forward over the desk. “If you ask me, they should mark Dregs like cattle!”

  “I am not a Dreg,” I grunt.

  “So you’re sticking to that story?”

  “It’s the truth. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was born Golden.” I let a long breath escape. “I’m tired of this. Is there supposed to be a hearing for me or not? Let’s skip to that. I’ll prove my innocence then.” That must have been what Mom was going to tell me, that I’d have a hearing where I’d be cleared of charges. It’s happened before.

  “Your execution will be held in the main hospital in the city.”

  I want to ask, “Why would my execution be at a hospital?” but I refuse to seem desperate in front of this prick. Closing my mouth, I look down at the desk for a second. “Why won’t there be a hearing?”

  “Those accused of treason don’t get hearings.” The edge of one side of his mouth quirks upward.

  “How can I prove my innocence if there’s no hearing? How’d my dad get one?” The guy isn’t making any sense. Everyone should get a hearing. Innocent until proven guilty is the right of every citizen of the Americas.

  “I’m done with you. We go back to your cell now.” He releases my chains from the desk. Holding them in one hand, he pulls up, and I’m forced to stand with him. “Forward!”

  I obey.

  He appears to be the only cop here. I don’t know if the others who’ve been here are somewhere else on the premises, but it doesn’t matter. If I can get to the belt holding his keys, then I can break free.

  We walk, and I yank on my chains, pulling the commander toward me. Jamming my hand upward and underneath his chin, I wrap the chains around his neck before he can react. He struggles against my hold before crashing us into one of the concrete hallway walls.

  I hold on for dear life. His breathing sputters as he chokes. I almost have him and am thinking about what to do after he’s down when he k
icks me. Hard. Slamming his foot into my knee, he jars my balance.

  We both fall to the floor. He grips my chains, pulls, and then stands swiftly. His Stun-Stick stick makes contact with my neck, and I quiver on the ground.

  My chance at freedom is lost.

  He drags me back to my cell. I shake all the way as electricity slinks through me.

  The Commander turns the bars on immediately via a button hidden on his metal wristband. Should have gone for that instead. The bars shimmer into solidity, turning neon red. “That’s the highest the bars will go. Be careful, boy.” He stalks away.

  “Nice try, young buck.” The old man laughs.

  After a while, I stand and dust myself off, still breathing heavily. I don’t know what got into me. Escaping? A last-chance effort.

  “They won’t give you a hearing, will they?” The old man asks after a long silence.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because they’re doing everything in their power to silence you.”

  If I’m to be executed, there is no fanfare, only one cop questioning me in an abandoned jailhouse. I’ll go to the hospital to be executed like a stray dog or cat. Maybe taking me there instead of a shooting range is the humane way to do it.

  This is a fair nation, so why is this being allowed? Why won’t they give me a hearing? My father got one! And why after Dad’s hearing haven’t I been exonerated? Mom’s words echo inside my head.…There’s not much I can do…Your father spoke with the premier, and it doesn’t look good for you. She didn’t tell me my father was doing everything he could to clear my name. She seemed to be saying her last goodbye.

  “I knew a Golden once.” The old man breaks the silence.

  I blow out a long breath. “Don’t waste my time reminiscing.”

  He laughs for the millionth annoying time. “He broke the Universal Abetting Law and had his status taken away for harboring Dregs. Used to say we were like helpless puppies. He couldn’t stand us not having good food, proper healthcare, homes, and whatnot. Started letting us live with him. He was a lonely old man. Not as old as me, of course, but old for Golden. Then he got caught, and that was the end of his Golden status. A shame. He died with nothing.”