The Renegades (The Superiors)

by Lena Hillbrand

  Before her escape, just a week ago, she’d only seen Superiors doing things humans could do. She knew they were much stronger, but other than that, they didn’t seem all that superior. But Draven could do things no human could do, no matter how strong. He could jump off buildings and land on his feet without getting hurt, and jump onto buildings, and jump across impossible distances. Maybe Superiors didn’t want humans to know they could do those things because they didn’t want to scare their food. Or maybe they had a completely different reason, one she’d never figure out. Supposedly they were smart, so maybe they had a good reason for hiding what they could do. All she knew was that they hid these amazing abilities from humans, but Draven had shown her. He had shared his secrets, broken the code of his people, maybe even broken laws, by showing and telling her not only his strengths but his weaknesses, even how to defeat him. A swell of warmth and gratitude welled up in her, and she forgot her disgust and began to work with more gentle determination.

  First, she pulled the bristling splinters, starting with the easiest ones. As she worked, she began noticing a pattern, rough circular shapes of different sizes, usually intersecting, with splinters around them. In her exhaustion, she could see the circles themselves, a pattern stamped on his back. She blinked hard, sure she had imagined it. But when she pressed his hip so he’d turn a little, the light hit him at a different angle, and she saw that she hadn’t imagined it. He had circular scars all over his skin.

  “What happened to you?” she whispered in a kind of horrified awe. She ran the palm of her hand lightly over his back.

  He sucked in a breath, the first one since she’d started taking out splinters. “Thank you,” he said, and he unfolded his legs and stood in one fluid movement. “I imagine that will be enough for now. We both need rest.”

  He offered her a hand, but she paused before taking it. She had so many questions. But she let them go for the moment and slipped her hand into his. He didn’t let her hand go or step back after he pulled her to her feet. He wasn’t a tall man, and their faces weren’t far apart when they stood toe to toe. “I wish to thank you in some way, but I don’t know what you’d like,” he said.

  “Okay, well…goodnight?” Being so near him made her nervous sometimes, the way he looked at her so intense and hungry.

  “Goodnight,” he said, and after another moment, he let her hand go. She knew he could suck her blood any time he wanted, but sometimes she had an irrational fear that one of them wouldn’t stop. They’d suck every bit of it from her until she shriveled up like an old melon.

  She crawled under the blanket next to Leo, shivering with cold. Draven didn’t go to bed, though. He went and got wood and prodded the fire until it blazed hotter, and then he sat on the other side, staring into the fire with those eyes that reflected the light and looked black with glowing centers. Cali watched him watching the fire.

  When she woke, he was covering the remnants of the fire with dirt and rocks. She wondered if he ever slept or ate anymore, and if he really was fine, or if he was just too stubborn to admit weakness to a human.

  Chapter 28

  Meyer Kidd’s whole day had turned to rubbish. His brilliant idea hadn’t panned out. A turbine with a picture on it—your picture—would sell millions, he just knew it. Every person in the world, or at least the flat parts of the world, could have their own picture on a turbine in their own backyard. It was perfect. The most beloved image on earth for each individual. The problem was, the turbines didn’t have enough blades, and so far it looked impossible to make even the ones with extra blades show a person’s face.

  He’d been sure it would top even the best seller in his company. Pretty-bines and furr-bines and glitter-bines sold well, but none would compare to this. And now, his partners told him it couldn’t be done. He’d have to think on it a while, let it marinate while he worked on other projects. Maybe he’d come back to it. He wouldn’t give up just yet. After all, if he had been the type to give up, he would have died hundreds of years ago, with all the other children old enough to know what had happened during the Time of the Takeover.

  He saw a car behind his, a nice one. A Second’s car, maybe an Enforcer’s. Let them follow if they liked. They would never find anything on him. They just liked to use their heavy, intimidating cars to shadow him, make him paranoid. That would never work with him. He’d never cared much about cars—he didn’t even drive one.

  “Let’s pop by Ginger Tolemy’s farm,” he told his driver over the intercom.

  He got out of the car at Ginger’s and took a deep breath of the dry night air. Colder this time of year. Soon he’d head to the mountains for his vacation. Months of skiing and sitting at the hearth, relaxing and cooking up new ideas for inventions. What could top that? He’d have to bring a sap this year. Maybe two. Yes, he decided, he would definitely need two. Maybe even three. One of them a baby. Then he’d invite that jealous wanker Byron over, and he’d bring in his saps and share, out of the generousness of his heart. He’d love to see the look on Byron’s face when he showed off his perfect little sap family who hadn’t escaped, a mother and father and baby.

  He laughed when the Enforcer who had been tailing him cruised by. Let him watch. Meyer had been doing this for years, and no one had ever gotten close. Sure, a few Enforcers had gotten suspicious—one after Herman disappeared, and now Byron. But they weren’t smart enough. They couldn’t guess the extent. And Meyer would never go to jail. He had money, and money bought everything. In the worst-case scenario, Meyer could get nabbed for something and have to withdraw his involvement for a while. But he’d never quit entirely.

  Meyer thanked his driver and the man nodded. He wasn’t too fond of the new driver. Maybe he’d look around for another one soon. Lots of Thirds would love to drive a nice car and get paid for taking Meyer to all his engagements. But he’d think about that later. He had more pressing—and enjoyable—things on his mind just then.

  He popped into Ginger’s office first thing. When she stood up from behind her desk, he got the full advantage of her beauty. Ginger could turn men’s heads around so far and so fast you’d think their necks would snap. To the best of Meyer’s knowledge, none had yet.

  “Hello, Meyer,” Ginger said, holding out her arms. Sometimes even Ginger, who had known him for years, forgot he was a man. But unlike other Seconds, she could condescend without incurring his ire.

  “Hello, lovely Ginger,” he said, stepping into her arms. He let his head rest on her breasts while she hugged him. Although he was glad he’d evolved before sex interested him, he still appreciated her particular set of attributes. He’d seen how sex distracted people from more important matters in life, but he would have happily let himself be distracted by sex if he had a woman like Ginger. As it happened, no man had held onto Ginger for as long as he had held her friendship. But then, she had strange tastes when it came to those things.

  “How nice of you to stop by,” Ginger said in her sugary yet authoritative voice. Ginger dressed just like that teacher at every school that every boy had a crush on—today she wore classic black heels, a tailored charcoal skirt that hit just above the knee with a slit that showed the barest hint of thigh, and a pink blouse open just one button too low to be prim. She hadn’t been a teacher before the Evolution, though. She’d been a lingerie model.

  “Always a pleasure,” Meyer said, kissing her hand.

  She laughed and mussed his hair, a gesture that infuriated him almost beyond reason when anyone else did it.

  “I have a box in the car for you, some old stuff I thought your saps might use,” he said.

  “Of course. I’ll have one of the sapiens go out and get it. Stay and visit with me for a minute.” She turned on her screen and found one of her favorites. “Hi, Jay, would you be a dear and run out to Meyer’s car and get the box from the back? Thank you.” Ginger always thanked her helpers in a sing-songy voice that Meyer particularly adored.

  “Any new sales today?” he asked, which was
code for Is anyone else around? Meyer loved the secrecy and codes as much as he loved getting away with something.

  “Not today, but I had a visitor,” Ginger said. No one’s here now but it’s not safe to talk.

  “That’s too bad,” Meyer said. “Did you get the items I sent over the other day? None of the food had spoiled, had it?” Did the saps get here okay?

  “Oh, no, but something got into one of the boxes in the sapien quarters and they had to throw it out.” Yes but one of them got sick and died.

  “Oh, no. Who found it?”

  “Little Larry.”

  “Oh, him. That’s too bad. I hate to see good food go to waste.”

  “Oh, here’s your box. I’d love to walk you out, but I’ve really got to get these files updated. You know I like my records thorough. Would you like Jay to walk you down?” Ginger always had saps do the work around her farm. Of course, she could have hired a few Thirds, but sap labor cost less—nothing, in fact. Jay, a pretty blonde boy maybe a handful of years older than Meyer’s human years, stood holding the box he’d taken from Meyer’s car.

  “No, thank you. I know the way,” Meyer said.

  “Go on back. Let me know if you see one that catches your eye. You’d be my first sale today.”

  “Then I better look extra hard,” Meyer said, standing. He gave a little bow before leaving the office. Taking up the box, he followed Jay through the door that led to the sapiens’ shanties. Meyer left Jay, turned left and walked along the row of houses, all constructed of mud and tin and old tires and siding and other scraps of rubbish. After a quick bite to eat, he went to the building that held Ginger’s offices and home. Normally he got right to it, but he’d been paranoid lately with all the Enforcers he’d seen lurking.

  He followed his nose until he sought out the girl he’d sent here last week, the little girl who giggled. “Come visit with me,” he said. “I have a present for you.”

  After leaving her shelter, he went into a shanty built against the wall of the office, and then another. Inside this one, he pulled away the tin and siding and a brick of mud and opened a door in the wall. The giggly girl went in before him. Before following her inside, he took three bags from the box and brought them along. He moved in front of the sap and made his way down the dark hall. When they came to another door, he opened it and switched on a light. A supply closet greeted them. Meyer went inside, pushed up the ceiling and boosted Emuleen through. He hefted the bags up and leapt up after them.

  Together they walked down a hallway that Meyer knew lay somewhere close to Ginger’s office. At the end, he lifted yet another door, and they dropped back down to the ground level. They had entered the room with no door. At least not one in the walls. From the outside, it was simply an extra part of the building that surrounded a storeroom. Without seeing the floor plans, no one would ever notice that the square area was much larger than the storeroom built into it.

  Meyer laughed in delight, as he did every time he thought of Ginger’s clever genius. He opened the bags before pushing them into one end of the L-shaped room. “How are you?” he asked Emuleen. “I heard Larry died.”

  “He did,” she said, looking quite sad. “The parents he got were real mean, I guess. They were only thirteen, both of them, and they didn’t have no kids of their own yet. I don’t think they took real good care of him.”

  “How dreadful,” Meyer said. “But see here. I need a sapien to accompany me on my vacation. Now, you know I wish I could take you. You’re my favorite.” He hugged Emuleen, who giggled when he tickled her. “Do you know of a young mother and father with a baby, a family who live here all the time?” he asked.

  “Ummmmm….” The girl put a finger on her lip and rolled her eyes up in thought. She really was dreadfully adorable. He couldn’t remember what sapien parents she derived from, but he quite fancied the little sap. “Yes,” she said at last. “I don’t know their names. But they have two kids, a girl who’s five just like me, and we play together. Her name’s Orange.”

  “They have another sapling?” he asked, glancing at the door that had dropped down from the ceiling. The saplings had begun to arrive, spilling through in an animated, chatty bunch.

  “Yeah, a baby,” Emuleen said.

  Meyer got busy hugging the seven little ones he hadn’t seen for several weeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier,” he said. “I might have gotten in trouble. You know my job is very dangerous.”

  Of the saps arriving, he’d known some of them for most of their lives, others only a few years. One of the little ones asked if he was a spy. He laughed. “No, I’m just very important. And very important men are often hated for their importance. Other people are jealous because I’m so rich and so smart and so young. And of course because I’m so handsome,” he said, posing dramatically. Some of the saps laughed. A few of the older ones came to get hugs.

  “Now, is this everyone?” he asked, looking around. “Where’s Lima?”

  “She’s sick,” one of the older ones said.

  “She’s pregnant,” another one said.

  “Okay, well, why don’t you all have a seat. Today I brought you an extra special treat.” He liked how they all leaned forward at the same time, like a tiny wave of excitement they couldn’t quite contain had gone through the room. “But you can’t see them yet.”

  “Awww,” they all said. He smiled.

  “First, I’m going to read to you. I know some of you little ones won’t understand, but just look at the pictures. You older ones, you know what to do if the little ones get loud.” He looked at the older saps, some old enough to have their own little ones. They all nodded.

  “Well then. This book is called...Ferdinand,” he said, turning it around dramatically. He read the book, and even the little ones watched and didn’t make too much noise. When Meyer finished, he leaned over to a little girl in the front row. She was sixish, he thought, one of the Hensons’ spawn.

  “I have a very special gift for you,” he said, holding the book out to her. “Would you like to keep this and read about Ferdinand again by yourself?”

  She nodded solemnly and accepted the book.

  “Now, there are three conditions,” he said, taking back the book. “First, you have to leave it in this room. And second, you have to put your name in it so everyone knows it’s yours. Can you do that for me?” The girl, Jame he thought, nodded. “And you can’t tell anyone. That’s the most important part. Remember, if you tell anyone I’ll be executed. Do you remember what executed is?” Jame’s eyes widened and she nodded.

  “Good. Did everyone else hear that? Because I brought books for all of you, too.”

  He rose and pulled the first bag around. “Now, hold up your hand if you want a book? Oh, everyone does? Hm, I don’t know. I’m not sure I brought that many.” He handed out the ragged books one at a time until he’d emptied the first bag. “I’m all out,” he said, shaking his head. “Oh no. Whatever shall I do? Not everyone got a book. That’s not fair. Maybe I’ll have to take them back.”

  “What about the other bags?” Emuleen asked, giggling.

  “What other bags? Oh, these? I completely forgot. Thank goodness you reminded me.” The saplings all giggled and carried on about his silliness as he handed out the rest of the books, matching the age level as best he could with the number of words in the books. Most of them were rubbish, but finding paper books wasn’t easy.

  He handed out stubby pencils and watched the saps put their names on the books in chunky childlike writing, the older ones helping the younger ones when they had finished.

  Meyer stood. “Now, just because it’s your book doesn’t mean you’re the only one who gets to read it. Remember how last year I had only one book for four of you? When you finish a book, trade with a friend. But the one with your name is your own personal property. Yours. So keep them nice.”

  “The pages are coming out of mine,” a boy said.

  “It can’t be helped. That’s all the more
reason to treat these books with great care. They are treasures. And they are your own. No one will ever take them from you. They belong to you. Like nothing else in the whole world.”

  Meyer looked down at a little girl who clung to his leg. “What, you want me to read to you again?” he asked.

  “Read me this?” she asked, waving her book around.

  Meyer sat on the floor this time instead of the single chair, and he read to the girl and the others who crawled into his lap, asking him to read their books afterwards. When he got tired of talking, he sat with some of the older ones and asked them to read to him. As he looked over his happy, enthralled kingdom, he couldn’t help but smile. True, they were just cattle, but they worshipped him as their king. Their beloved ruler, benefactor, teacher, and provider. They all needed him and depended on him. They loved him. And best of all, they owed him.

  Chapter 29

  Draven was running again. This time he ran in pursuit, pausing to scent before he sprang into a tree. He swung forward and sailed through the air to catch a branch, swinging from one tree to the next with the perfect rhythm of someone who had done it all his life. His body seemed to know the movement, like a memory stored in his muscles from some long ago time, though he’d never before known the perfect freedom of his limbs, the distance he could travel in such a short time, nor how far he could push his body. But even as he realized it, he watched it fade more each day.

  Only a week ago he’d had greater strength, could have completed this task more efficiently and in less time. He thought of when it started. Though he estimated his increase in strength began when he’d left Sally’s, perhaps he’d only regained his freedom and his prior strength. Perhaps he’d forgotten it in the eight months he’d been held captive…but he doubted that. So, he had gained this extra advantage after he’d left Sally’s. It had to be Angel’s doing. Angel had given him some sort of power when he pulled that rod out of Draven’s brain, the one that Byron had used to paralyze him. But Angel had done something else, changed something.