Modified: Book One in the Manipulated Series

by Harper North

  Book One of the Manipulated Series

  By Harper North

  Copyright © 2017 by Torment Publishing. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced. Stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author or publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, live or dead are purely coincidental.

  North, Harper.

  Modified

  For more information on reproducing sections of this book or sales of this book, go to www.harpernorth.com or www.tormentpublishing.com

  Contents:

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  60 YEARS AGO

  REF: JD-8486

  10 MAR 2087

  MEMORANDUM: Resource Security & Mining Settlement Protocols

  We are 40 years into the gradual reversal of the Earth’s magnetic poles. Our ability to build a flourishing society based on our advanced genetic modification technology has reached its apex. We are now forced to move on to more aggressive innovation to move us into the future. Society cannot move forward without radical change.

  To secure the Enhanced Human Coalition’s ability to provide rare earth minerals for societal stability and advancement, we are issuing the system-wide development of Dweller mining settlements.

  As of now, all Dwellers have been fully supported by the EHC with little return on investment. This memo is signally the start of our efforts to build mining operations in each of our mineral rich underground habitats.

  Requirements: Each settlement will establish a 70% mandatory workforce to work the mines. The remaining 30% will be allocated for operations and security forces.

  To insure a strong workforce going forward, a Dweller fostering system will be put into place. Details of this system will be forthcoming.

  All able miners will be required to work 10 hour shifts for maximum production. Dwellers that refuse assignments will be restricted from food allocations and living amenities.

  EHC operatives will routinely monitor the development of this program to ensure order and protect our future.

  The formation of this Dweller mining system is vital to our ability to maintain our surface infrastructure. Your region is required to have an active mining operation up and running in no more than 3 years. All equipment has been allocated and is being processed for delivery.

  As always, the EHC leadership is at your disposal. Contact our processing division for assistance.

  Founder and Director of the EHC

  Edward Nejem

  CHAPTER 1

  Present Day

  One false move and that’s it. I’m dead.

  Sweat drips into my ear as I grip the crumbling ledge of the cavern wall and yank on my too-slack line. My belayer, living it up safe on the ground below, is a lazy, easily distractible, pathetic excuse for a human being. And, also, my closest friend.

  I glance down between my boots. “I’m dealing with a lot of rope up here, Lacy!”

  She jerks the line, getting rid of the excess that formed from my rapid ascension up the cavern face. I press my boots against a sturdy rock and lean back, allowing the equipment to secure me up in a seated position while I take a breather. After a moment, I dig into the pocket of my cargo pants for a can of spray paint. With one hand I hold onto the rope and, with the other, I tag a line of green dots along the wall, marking areas with considerable traces of valuable cerium.

  The Leeches, up top, have us expanding operations and creating newer tunnels, but I don’t mind. This part of the mine’s not so harsh compared to the older, muskier areas that are heavily polluted from excessive activity. The air here is cleaner, no need for an uncomfortable respirator.

  A loud, obnoxious bell screeches, and Yasay Tulbert, the local mining boss, screams from several tunnels back at some fresh-out-of-the-oven miners that they have to work late for not producing. Ah, the good old days.

  “Lacy, I’m ready to dive,” I call down.

  She grips my lifelines tight. “Got it, Fin.”

  I suck in a breath, heart pounding. The last thing I want to do is fall fifteen feet down to solid rock just because I have a terrible belayer.

  When my boots hit the bottom, I grunt. Lacy and I strip out of our climbing gear as we get to our lockers. Neither of us speaks as we drag ourselves toward the rusted metal bridge leading us back to the older mines, where we can store our tools. Nearly fifty miners, most near to my own age of seventeen, shuffle their boots over the rocks, none of us bothering to push past one another. It’s not like we’re more excited to be off our shift than on.

  “Finley! Lacy!” a familiar voice calls out after the two of us stash our gear and head down the metal stairwell. A skinny redheaded boy peers up at us and we meet him at the bottom of the metal shaft. Battery powered lamps line the inner workings of the tunnels—the area called the Slack—leading to and from the mines. In the dim light, I study the kid’s filthy face. His hair is smudged with soot and a black ring circles his mouth from his respirator. He’s assigned to one of the grittier areas of the mine.

  Lacy smiles curtly at him. “Hey, Drape.”

  “Be nice, Lacy. Drape’s a sweet kid,” I whisper.

  Lacy playfully elbows him and Drape gives us a goofy smile. The three of us begin our regular march by way of the tunnels and down various metal staircases toward the living quarters. These two, Lacy and Drape, are perhaps the only people whom I care to speak to. We've known one another since our days in the Oven. No one here truly comes from a family. We were all raised in the Oven—a place that is designed to simply keep new kids alive until they’re old enough to work the mine. Newborns go straight there to allow their parents to get right back to work. The majority of kids don’t even know their mothers, and I’m one of them.

  “Did you two feel that quake earlier today?” Drape struggles to keep up. He’s younger than Lacy and I by about two years, but he’s forever right on our tails. Mine especially. He’s a pain, but useful to us on occasion. Might as well have the kid around.

  “Everyone felt that quake, Dope,” Lacy says.

  Drape frowns and looks to me. “Funny. You weren’t climbing during that quake, were you, Fin?”

  “No,” I say.

  Quakes are common now. I’ve been told that pre-Flip they were rarer, but that was a hundred years before my lifetime. A lot has changed since then, I suppose. Old-timers speak of a simpler past when all of mankind lived above the surface. It’s hard to imagine living anywhere but down below, but I envy the Leeches who get to live above ground. I’m a little shaky on the science behind the whole event, but, evidently, it has to do with the Earth’s magnetic poles flipping. Somehow it caused the sun to radiate the planet at a greater intensity, along with earthquakes, climate change, and a bunch of crap I don’t care to think about. The older folks say it’s hotter on the surface, but I wouldn’t know.

  Withou
t warning, Lacy stops and grabs the railing, the old metal clanging in protest. The other miners continue forward. I roll my eyes, grab Drape’s shoulder, and push past them to get back to her.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  She lets loose a loud, exaggerated sigh, “Oh, Finley,” she fake sobs. “I’m bored.”

  I frown at her fake drama. “Oh?”

  Lacy flings her head back, her long black hair cascading down her back. She shoots me a devilish look with those dark irises of hers. Her pretty tawny skin has not been tampered with too harshly after what was a considerably easy workload for us—unlike poor Drape, whose pale skin is covered in miner’s dust.

  “What?” I snarl to make her get to whatever point she’s hoping to make.

  “I heard a rumor,” she sings, swaying her finger back and forth. Drape’s lips twist up into a slight smile. I remain serious, as usual.

  “And what rumor was that, Lacy?” I ask.

  She grips the railing even tighter and hops up, sitting on the fence and clasping her boots together on the bottom half of the railing to keep from tumbling over. Lacy lowers her head and smirks then shows her teeth like a wild animal. “I heard a new shipment arrived from the EHC.”

  “The Leeches send anything good?” Drape asks.

  “They always do,” Lacy says.

  I sigh. Sometimes I think our little games are just that to Lacy—games. For me, it’s about survival, not a thrill rush.

  The grin on Lacy’s lips gives away her excitement about this shipment she’s referring to. The EHC usually just sends equipment to mine their minerals, but on rare occasions, when their leaders are feeling friendly, they send down special treats like toys for the kids in the Oven or snacks for the mining bosses. Whatever will make them feel as if they’ve done great a humanitarian aid during their time in office.

  For lowly dwellers like us, seeing any of that stuff is highly unlikely, but that hasn’t ever stopped my rag-tag gang.

  Drape and Lacy eye me, pleading.

  “Fine,” I say, readjusting the sweaty, long strands of brown hair falling from my bun. Lacy squeals excitedly before I snap my finger to my lips.

  We continue through the Slack, hiding ourselves amongst the crowd. We walk with heads high, and without speaking we turn down a tunnel opposite the rest of the crowd. Confidence is key. We act as if we’re supposed to be headed this way, like we’ve been sent on an assignment by Yasay. We come to a metal stairwell and Drape silently points up. Shadows dance across the cavern’s surface. Mining guards. We huddle under the stairs, the boots of the guards clinging and clanging above.

  The men speak clearly, no raspy sounds in their breaths. That’s how you know you can’t trust a person. They haven’t spent their lives breathing in mining dust, so their lungs are clean. Guards live in a position of privilege. Well, as close to privilege as a dweller can get. I remind myself that there are worse existences than working in the mines. Those who can’t or won’t wind up homeless and starving.

  “Yeah,” one of them says lazily, his boots clanging louder as the men descend. “So, I about nearly fell off the bridge today during that quake.”

  Lacy and I giggle. Drape has a reputation for tumbling off the sides of bridges during earthquakes. I swear, every other time there’s a quake, the kid is crossing a mining bridge. I’m surprised he’s alive. Drape pitches his lips, and we try to contain our laughter.

  The men continue their casual banter and eventually reach the base floor. I hold my breath as they continue down the stretch of tunnel that will lead them back to the Slack. When they’re out of sight, the three of us hurry out of our hiding spot and head up, treading lightly on the metallic stairs. At the top, we enter into a more elevated tunnel, with scrap metal lined walls leading to a large doorway.

  “You have the pass cards?” Lacy asks.

  I nod and dig in my pocket. The pass cards are one of my prouder thefts. They allow me to gain access to just about anywhere, and it makes my side hobby of “borrowing” much easier. With a quick swipe down a panel by the entrance, the double doors whoosh back. The three of us scurry inside the immense, airy bay and hide behind a bunch of crates.

  The shipping center is probably the cleanest, most soot free place in the mine. People actually sweep here, and even use cleaning products. It’s almost hilarious, as if we’re Leeches living on the surface. The ceiling, walls, and floor are different here, too. Not scrap metal; built to last.

  “Check it,” Lacy says in a whisper, gesturing to the shafts. One of the Leeches.

  “Whoa,” Drape breathes. He’s never seen a Leech. Their stiff, dark uniforms are a dead giveaway. They’re also cleaner, and don’t have that inevitable miner’s cough. Lacy and I have gone on a few excursions without him, so we’ve seen them once or twice. Leeches rarely grace us with their presence unless there’s been a shipping error or they’re sending special gifts. I grin as I see several fellow dwellers pulling crate after crate from the elevator shafts.

  “Oh, they must have something really valuable today,” I say under my breath. “And whatever it is, they’ve got a lot of it. Good call coming today, Lacy. With that many crates, if one or two items go missing, it’s unlikely they’ll notice.”

  “Maybe it’s extra rations?” Drape whispers, full of innocent hope in his voice.

  It’s doubtful, but I don’t want to ruin that smile of his. I glance away, not answering him, straining to hear what the Leeches are saying, but I can’t quite make the conversations out. Their voices are even smoother than the guards, their lungs untainted by mining tunnels at all. Fresh air daily.

  Mutant freaks.

  I know I only pretend to see these people as monsters to make myself feel better. To stay sane.

  “Let’s get closer,” I whisper, raising my finger to my lips.

  They both agree, and we slide cautiously, raising our feet up high to avoid our slip-resistant boots skidding on and marking the shiny floor. Can’t leave evidence. We work our way around the outer wall of the space, staying out of the Leeches’ sight. Most of them have clearly never been below the earth, given how jumpy they are, and the guards are gushing all over them in an attempt to gain favor.

  Pathetic.

  With us on the opposite side, we’re hidden amongst the cluster of shipment arrivals. The Leeches and mining guards have congregated in the center of the room. The three of us stand behind one massive crate, a wooden box that towers high above our heads. The lid sits askew; this one has already been pried loose. Drape taps my shoulder and motions to a label on the face of the crate. Yasay Tulbert reads the stamp on the side. I’ve never been a fan of the mining boss, so the thought of stealing goods meant for him makes a thrill twitch in my stomach.

  The Leeches jet for the elevators, and soon they’re gone. All but three of the guards quickly tail them out of the shipment area and toward the exit leading back into the Slack.

  It’s now or never.

  “Lend me a boost?” I whisper. “Let’s have a peek and see what our slimy friends brought us.”

  Drape and Lacy grin back at me. They bend down low and each extend their interlocked hands to one another. I place my right foot in Drape’s palms, and my left I give to Lacy. Together, they boost me until I’m high enough to grip the edge of the crate. A shadow from the corner of the room casts on the half-empty crate, so I can’t really tell what I’m seeing just yet.

  I lean in, and then it happens. The crate creaks from the weight I put on it. The three remaining guards spin toward us. In an instant, I recognize one of them. His balding scalp gleams from the fluorescent glow above as he steps in our direction, a furious scowl on his face.

  He’s no guard. It’s Yasay.

  Just our luck. I wish I had checked out the group of men a little better before attempting to rob them. My stomach lightly churns as that large, balding cretin stumbles our way. Yasay isn’t exactly known for being merciful.

  Drape suddenly pushes up from underneath my right
foot, tumbling me into the crate. My shoulder smacks into the wood and pain shoots down my arm. I bite down hard to stifle a cry.

  “Do you hear that?” Yasay growls.

  There’s no hiding the fact we’re here now. I shift to see what’s going on through a crack in the crate.

  Like a flash, Drape moves out in front of the men. That stupid, scrawny ginger is offering himself up as a sacrificial lamb to save mine and Lacy’s hides. Why did he have to go and do that?

  “Hey, Yasay,” Drape says playfully.

  “You’re in trouble, boy!” Yasay calls as the two guards follow close behind him.

  “Sorry… so sorry.” Drape waves. “I didn’t mean to be in here.”

  Lacy, giggling like a little girl, saunters out and curtains her arms around Drape, giving him a stern kiss on the cheek. I cross my arms over my chest, knowing what she has planned certainly won’t work.

  “Ooh, we got caught,” Lacy says, as if this isn’t a horrendous offense. She laughs and nuzzles her nose into Drape’s collarbone, acting as though they were just two lovers caught in the deed. Yasay, I know, is not buying it. I don’t have to see his expression to know that.

  “Make sure no one else is in here!” Yasay orders the guards in his croaking voice. He sneers and yanks Lacy away from Drape, shoving the two of them apart.

  I move back, heart racing. What if the guards check down into the crate? In a flash, I tuck myself in a corner alongside the only metal container in the shipment. Unable to resist, I quietly open the box. If we make it out of here, I don’t want to leave empty handed.

  Inside sits a tiny, black device. It’s oval in shape, with a glass touch panel and a protruding tip. The metal container also has Yasay’s name on it. What’s so special about this one?

  “I don’t know what the big deal is,” Lacy says. “You know how hard it is to get some privacy around here, Yasay. The door was left open, is all.”