“So you got found out, but instead of the Metz hauling you away, you got offered a job at the government food factory. That’s great news! I don’t know why you’re looking so glum about it.”
I give Nessie a look, but she’s too caught up with excitement to catch it.
“It’s bound to be better paid than cleaning work, and you may even be able to get some extra rations.”
“Nessie . . .”
“If this woman likes you, perhaps you can ask her to give me a job, too. Not fixing things, obviously, but they must need some general workers, perhaps in the offices. Or you could train me up.”
I glance at Pa, who’s still staring down at the floor. I don’t think he’s moved since I started speaking.
“Nessie, shut up!”
Finally, she stops talking and turns to me, her eyes wide with hurt. “What? You didn’t turn them down or anything stupid, did you?”
“No. I didn’t really have a choice.” I reach out and rest my hand lightly on my father’s knee. “I’m sorry, Pa.”
Nessie looks from him to me. “Then why are you two so gloomy?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” How can she be so blind? “They won’t take Pa back, and the supervisor said he’ll make sure that he can’t get a job anywhere else in the city.”
“But that’s not so bad.” Nessie frowns. “Oh . . . The apartment.”
I swallow, my eyes not leaving my father. “They’re paying me enough that we’ll be able to afford somewhere else.”
“How much?” Pa’s voice is ragged.
I tell them. Nessie’s jaw drops. For once, she’s left speechless.
Finally, Pa drags his gaze up to meet mine. “That’s good news, Rae, and you deserve it, girl.” He pats my hand and tries to force some light into his voice. “Go out and get something nice for dinner—on me. We should be celebrating.”
He pushes himself up, stilling the reply forming on my lips, and flicks a finger impatiently. “Go on now. I’ll just go and see to your mother.”
I stand there, helpless to do anything but watch as he stumbles to the bedroom, tears glistening in his eyes, the hard, tough exterior that has protected him his whole life finally beginning to crack.
As Nessie tugs at my arm, oblivious of what I’ve done, I wonder which of them I’ll lose first. Will the tronk suck my mother down into a final dark embrace? Or will my father sink like a stone into the blacker pit of despair?
Chapter 9
I can see from the dark rings under Pa’s eyes that he, like me, slept little last night. We had factory chicken for dinner, but I think Nessie was the only one who actually enjoyed it. She had prattled on about how lucky I was to have been offered the job and where we might be able to get an apartment, so that none of us had an opportunity to speak. But it was better than the silence left behind when she finally went to bed.
“Your mother wants to see you,” Pa says.
It’s the first word he’s spoken all morning. He sits ramrod-straight on the stiff-backed chair, his shoulders tense with the anger he’s holding inside. He won’t talk about it, which makes it worse somehow. I’m afraid that if I stay in the room much longer, the tension will explode out of him.
The small box containing my chip is hidden in my bed, out of sight.
The sooner we can get back to normal, the better.
Ma’s hunched under the bedclothes, staring at the plain white wall. I crack the window to let the smell of sleep escape and sit down next to her on the bed.
“Do you want some porridge, Ma?”
She continues to stare at the wall, not giving any sign that she knows I’m here.
“Ma?”
“Why do you always open the window?” Her voice is rough and broken.
“To let fresh air in.”
A laugh rattles in her chest. “There’s nothing fresh about that air.”
“It’s fresher than what’s in here.” I try to suppress my irritation. “Did you want something?”
Her hand finds mine, bony fingers caressing my skin. “You’ve got a new job.”
“Yes.”
Finally, she turns to look at me. “I’m proud of you, Rae. You . . . You’re like your father. A better person than me.”
“Don’t say that, Ma. It’s not your fault they got rid of you.”
“But this is my fault. You shouldn’t have to look after me.”
I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say.
Her eyes brim with tears. “I will try harder,” she says with an effort. “I will try.”
I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead. “Thank you, Ma,” I whisper into her thin, gray hair.
I help her get up and dressed. She even asks for some breakfast.
“I’m heading out to see a friend,” I say, spooning the last of the porridge into a bowl and placing it in front of my mother.
Nessa perks up. “Jed?”
“No, not Jed.”
Her face falls. My sister always had a bit of a thing for my schoolfriend. “Who then?”
I shrug. “Just some guy.”
Nessie’s eyes light up. Pa frowns.
“A boyfriend?”
“No, Pa, not a boyfriend. I’ll be back later.”
I shrug on my jacket and leave the apartment, the small box containing my chip in my pocket. I’d given Pa the rubber sleeve this morning. He’d shoved it into his pocket like he didn’t want to be reminded of its existence.
The clouds and rain of the previous day have blown over, and the sun is hot through the wispy white clouds that hang lazily in the sky. I take off my jacket, wishing I’d left it at home.
When I arrive at the doctor’s surgery, the door is locked and bolted. There’s no sign to say why it’s closed.
Dammit.
I slam my fist against the door, then turn and lean back against the wall, closing my eyes.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
I freeze, recognizing the deep voice instantly.
The man who’d told me to call him “boss” lounges on the other side of the alleyway. His arms are folded across his broad chest, his dark skin and clothes blending into the shadows thrown by the tall buildings.
The small biobox feels suddenly heavy in the pocket of my jacket.
“Is teleportation one of your tricks, too?”
He looks amused. “Sadly not. I have to walk the streets like everyone else.”
Then why didn’t I hear you coming?
“When does he open?”
“The doc works odd hours. I didn’t think you’d be needing him so soon.”
He doesn’t follow up on the comment or interrogate me. He just leans against the building, waiting for me to speak.
“I got caught,” I say finally. “There was an incident in the workshop. The machine ran out of control and was going to drag Ja— someone down into a big bread mixer. But it’s okay. There was a woman from the government food factory watching. She’s offered me a job there . . .” My voice trails off.
The man’s eyebrows shoot up. “They offered you a job in the government food factory?”
I nod.
He gives me an appraising glance. “Interesting. They’re usually very picky about who they take on.”
“I’m good at what I do,” I mutter.
“Obviously.” He pushes himself off the wall and walks over to stand in front of me. Tension crackles in the air between us. I crane my neck to look up at him. He doesn’t look that old, maybe a few years older than me, though Insiders have all these skin rejuvenation treatments to help them look younger than they are.
But if he’s an Insider, why would he be out here?
“You cut your hair.”
I jerk backward as his fingers brush across my head, curling around the back of my ear. Before I can say anything, he snatches his hand back, as if only just realizing what he was doing. His gaze flicks away.
“I’m sorry. That was . . . unacceptable.”
&nbs
p; I shrug, embarrassed by my reaction to his touch. “It’s okay. I can grow it again now that I don’t have to pretend to be an old man anymore.”
His eyes soften as they turn back to me, and I’m caught in his hypnotic gaze.
“I hope you took it.”
“Took what?”
“The job.”
“Oh.” I tear my gaze from his face. “Yes, well, I didn’t really have a choice.”
His words bring back the thought that had struck me yesterday. Why hadn’t Mrs. Chamberlain met my eyes? What was she hiding?
It suddenly strikes me that two hundred credits a week is a lot of money. More than a simple machinist deserves.
The man clears his throat. “Well, at least that solves your employment problem.”
“I guess.” I frown, trying to remember if I’d ever told him or Bobby that I’d lost my job. Then I realize what he’s really asking. “The job pays well, and I start on Monday. I should be able to pay you back if you’ll take installments.” I add up in my head how long it’ll take to pay the sum Bobby had mentioned, and my heart sinks. It would be a lot of installments.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I said don’t worry about it.” He sounds almost angry, but I don’t know what I’ve done to upset him.
I stand up straighter. Even then, the top of my head barely reaches his shoulders. “I said I’ll pay, one way or the other. You said you needed things fixed. I can do that for you. Or if I’m working in the government factories, perhaps I could smuggle some food out or . . . or something.”
And get yourself sacked for stealing? Great plan, Rae.
Then again, it was taking someone else’s chip that got me the job in the first place. A small smile works its way onto my lips.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.”
He frowns at me, confused.
I sigh. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that all I had to do to get a government job was break the law?”
He stares at me for a moment, then throws his head back and laughs. It’s a big laugh that shakes his whole body.
It wasn’t that funny.
The back of his hand grazes my bare arm, sending a shiver of excitement racing through me. He pulls back sharply at the contact, the laughter falling from his lips. “I’m not having you work for me. It’s too dangerous.”
“For me or you?”
“For you.”
Irritation flickers in my belly. “And you don’t think I’m up to it? Because I got found out at the workshop?”
“That’s not what I said,” he growls. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. What I do . . . It’s not all entertainment centers and nightclubs.”
“What do you do then?”
He hesitates, his gaze flicking around the empty alleyway. “I help people.”
“And that’s dangerous because . . .?”
“Because sometimes to help people you have to stray from what’s considered strictly legal. You’ve already had one run-in with the Metz. I’m sure you don’t want another.”
Something flutters in my stomach. I’m not sure if it’s fear or excitement.
“You’re saying I can just walk away from here? No catches?”
“No catches.”
It seems too good to be true. But then I think of Ma, and Nessie, and all the hobies and tronk addicts who don’t have someone to help them.
“If I’m working in the government food factory, would that help you help people? Outsiders?”
“It might.” He takes a step closer. My face is inches from his chest. “But it would be risky.”
His intrusion into my personal space should feel menacing. If it were anyone else, I’d be searching for a way to escape. But when he pulls back, instead of feeling relieved, I feel oddly disappointed.
If I walk away, I’ll never see him again.
I fold my arms and stare up at him, daring him to meet my gaze. “I’m sure I can handle it. Count me in.”
He looks down at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“No.” The word leaves my lips automatically, but I realize it’s not quite a lie. The man is a mystery to me, but somehow, I know he won’t hurt me.
“Most people are.”
I look up and down, letting my gaze linger on his bulging forearms and powerful shoulders. “That’s hardly surprising.”
I wonder if his chest is as taut and muscular as his arms. It certainly looks that way.
Stop it. You don’t even know his name.
I swallow and stick out my hand. “I look forward to working with you . . .”
After a moment’s hesitation, he takes it, his giant hand making mine look like a child’s.
“Samson.”
It suits him.
Samson smiles, a genuine, warm smile that I suspect rarely appears on his face. He still has hold of my hand. “Welcome to the team, Rae Barnes.”
Also by Alison Ingleby
The Machinist’s Daughter is a short story set in dystopian London, ten years before the events of The Wall Series. If you want to know more about what happens to Rae and Samson, they both make an appearance in this series of full-length novels.
The Wall Series (dystopian London)
Expendables
Infiltrators
Defenders
Liberators (coming in 2019)
The Shadow City Series (dystopian fantasy)
Book 1 available exclusively in Cursed Lands—a collection of 22 dystopian, urban fantasy and paranormal romance books. Available to pre-order now for 99¢! https://www.books2read.com/CursedLandsBox
Short Stories
Red Sun Rising
The Climb (in Future Visions, Vol. 1)
About Alison Ingleby
Alison Ingleby is a young adult fantasy and sci-fi author and disaster geek. She spends her days wondering what the future will be like and hoping it’s not as bad as the worlds in her head.
When not writing, Alison loves reading, Yorkshire Tea and hiking in the mountains. Her dream is to live by the sea in a Scottish castle (preferably one with central heating and hot water).
For information on new releases, book recommendations, giveaways and free short stories, sign up to Alison’s Readers’ Club.
Come and say hello on . . .
Information on all of Alison’s books is available on her website: alisoningleby.com.
Poisoned Earth
A Prequel
Heather Marie Adkins
EMT Lane Pascal isn’t prepared for the end of the world.
Between mysterious deaths in the dirt and a cryptic phone call from her self-proclaimed “psychic” mother, Lane’s shift is already going sideways. So when acid rain begins to fall in earnest, and citizens are trapped out in the deluge, she and her partner have tough decisions to make.
Nobody can explain what’s happening to the planet, but Lane knows one thing: she swore an oath to help the people of her city, and she’ll see it through, no matter what.
Even if that means sacrificing herself.
8:09 am
A man down first thing in the morning didn't bode well for the rest of the shift.
Lane Pascal tossed her backpack in her locker and downed an antacid, chasing it with the last of her bottled water.
Jerome's smooth molasses voice crossed the radio at her hip. “10-4, radio. Copy us en route.”
En route and I'm not even in the truck. Lane slammed her locker door and rushed from the bathroom, taking the stairs two at a time.
This early in the morning, the station was still asleep—the firefighters catching up on rest between calls while the industrial dryers whirled on a low background of radio chatter. She was used to getting ready for her shift alone, enjoying the solitude and the peace that came before she mounted the ambulance.
She passed through the door, leaving behind the cool darkness of the fi
rehouse for the blisteringly hot sunny day outside. Jerome sat behind the wheel scrolling through his phone with the engine already running.
As she swung open the creaky passenger side door, Jerome grinned wolfishly from the driver’s seat. “Mornin’, ma’am. You headed my way?”
Lane snorted and hauled her lanky body into the seat. “DOA in the dirt at Central Park? It's a date.”
“You sure know how to make a man excited.” He deposited his phone in the cup holder, adding a wink for good measure.
As she slammed her door, Jerome threw the ambulance into gear, and they rolled away from the curb.
The sun was already high and hot over the city. The morning news had predicted a sweltering ninety-eight degrees by noon, and the thermostat said they were almost there. Lane turned the AC up as high as it could go and looked over the run notes on the mounted computer.
“Unresponsive male, mid-thirties. The ground around him is dead?” Lane glanced at Jerome. “Jesus, I hope he’s not burned up or some crazy shit.”
“Like soaked in battery acid.”
Lane’s irritable stomach flipped inside her. “How do you come up with these things?”
“Too many crime dramas.” His mahogany eyes raked over her. “You okay? Not like you to have a weak constitution for dark humor.”
Her partner always looked so in control. One hand on the wheel, the other arm propped on the windowsill in a comfortable lean. Nothing but hard length and muscle from his gym habit. He was at ease in his own skin, slow, careful, calculating.
Lane felt like an ill-fitted live wire next to him. She was always moving, always thinking, always wondering, always insecure. “I’m good.”
“You wanna talk?”
She met his eyes. Her heart fell into that ridiculous rhythm, as if it were saying his name, each beat faster than the last. “Nah. Just tired this morning.”
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