Uninvited

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  The girl who beat up Skinny snorts and mutters beneath her breath, “A freakin’ Mary Poppins. Maybe she’ll sing for us.”

  I shoot her a look. She holds my gaze, her thick forearms tightening across her chest. The woman continues down the list and I return my attention to her. Skinny’s name is Sabine Stoger. She moved here as an infant from Austria and speaks both German and French. Sofia Valdez is from Texas and speaks Spanish. Clearly being proficient in a language is an asset to them here.

  The last name on the list is the stocky girl who attacked Sabine. Addy Hawkins, a track-and-field star. She preens as her qualifications are read, staring at each of us in a way that declares she is the strongest, the best: “Addy the Awesome and Terrible.” In case pounding Sabine hadn’t illustrated that.

  Apparently, she jumps a mean high bar and throws the javelin. She qualified for the US Olympic team in both events before she was detected as a carrier. I shiver, imagining her throwing that spear. Only I don’t see her throwing it into the ground. I see her impaling someone with it.

  “My name is Dusty,” the woman announces as she closes the last file.

  “Dusty?” Addy snorts.

  Dusty stares at her coolly before continuing. “I’m in charge of you seven while you’re all here. You’ve been selected because you possess special talents. You’ll be expected to cultivate these strengths and add other skills to your repertoire. If you’re not already bilingual, you will be expected to learn an additional language. If you’re in poor physical condition, consider that temporary. You will become a perfect specimen by the end of your stay here. If you can’t fight with any finesse, you will.” Her gaze sweeps over each of us, letting these words sink in. “Your DNA already tells us you can kill, but to succeed here you must become controlled, you must master your baser impulses and serve a purpose that is higher than yourself. We’ve assembled a staff to help you reach this goal.”

  No one breathes. I stare at this woman. She’s more than a guard, I recognize that at once. Suddenly, I see her as some kind of Yoda figure, offering hope.

  She removes several sheets of paper from her clipboard and hands them to us. “These are your schedules. Memorize them. There is no excuse for tardiness. We expect total obedience or you will be ejected from Mount Haven.”

  I sense Amira tense beside me. It’s a fate I don’t want to face, either.

  “You’ll send us to the camps if we don’t make it in here,” Addy states more than asks. It seems she’s the only one bold enough to say anything.

  “If you’re lucky, you’ll be transferred to a detention camp.” Dusty’s expression turns grim. “You want to make it here. Trust me in that.”

  Transference to a detention camp would be lucky? What would be the unlucky alternative?

  Unthinkingly, I hear myself answer, “Agent Stiles told my mother if this didn’t work out I would go to a detention camp.”

  Dusty looks at me then, her gaze hard as steel in her sun-browned face. My earlier hope that she’d be a benevolent mentor withers under her stare. “Agent Stiles is no longer here. I am.”

  With schedules in hand, we’re led from the lounge area. The doors to our rooms are a pristine white just like everything else. A small, thick-glassed window is positioned at the top of each door—a reminder that we’ll never have total privacy here.

  Sabine is in the room next to mine. Her wispy-thin form darts inside, clearly eager to escape everyone. Zoe, the imprinted redhead, is on the other side of me. She moves at a slower pace, looking at me eerily with those wild, green eyes of hers before disappearing inside her room. I shiver a little, knowing that I should have anticipated this. Even though the carriers here have all been screened, they’re positive for HTS. Some of them have to be dangerous . . . maybe even a little unhinged.

  Dusty stops me before I get inside my room. “Hamilton, we expect great things from you.”

  “Really?” I swallow uncomfortably. I didn’t want them to expect great things from me. I just want not to fail.

  “You have the breeding the other girls lack. Gentility, if you will . . . it’s important that you don’t lose that here. We’re going to train you to be tough . . . a skilled fighter, but don’t . . .” Her voice fades as though she’s searching for the right words. “You still need to maintain some sophistication. It will serve you well when you’re on assignment in the field.” She reaches up and taps a finger against my throat. “Shame about this. Perform to our expectations and we’ll see about getting that removed. It’s a painstaking process . . . delicate, but it can be done.”

  They could remove my imprint? I could walk freely in the world with no one marking me on sight as a carrier?

  My chest swells at the promise of this. I never dreamed of such a possibility.

  I nod eagerly. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Excellent.” She motions to my room, indicating I should go inside. “Have a good night.”

  Once I’m in, the door clangs shut. As I sink onto the single bed, a bolt falls into place on the other side, the sound heavy, jarring.

  At least we get our own rooms. Clearly, they don’t trust us alone with each other. No telling what would happen in the middle of the night. I might wake with someone’s hands around my throat.

  Sitting there, I think of Sean and Gil, somewhere on the other side of this building with forty-odd boys. Did they get the same type of introduction? Were they, too, expected to cultivate their talents? Gil’s a computer genius, but what about Sean? What did they expect from him?

  A soft sound starts up on the other side of my room. Sabine is crying.

  I move from the bed and tap the wall, pressing my face close to the plaster. “Hey, you okay?”

  Her words come out muffled, “I’m never going to make it.”

  “You’ll do great,” I say. “They want us to succeed. They’ll train us.”

  She doesn’t say anything else. After a while, I sigh and step away from the wall. I change into a fresh T-shirt and shorts and lie down on the bed. Grasping the collar, I inhale the soft fabric of my favorite T-shirt. It smells like home.

  I notice a pair of training pants and black T-shirt folded neatly on the chair. For tomorrow, I assume. Probably standard issue.

  Sinking back on the bed, I study my schedule and try to block out the sound of Sabine crying next door.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  * * *

  Mount Haven Camp Schedule

  ATHLETICS 6:00–6:45 A.M.

  BREAKFAST 7:00–7:45 A.M.

  ATHLETICS 8:00–9:30 A.M.

  INDEPENDENT STUDY 9:45–11:45 A.M.

  LUNCH 12:00–12:45 P.M.

  CONDITIONING 1:00–2:30 P.M.

  GROUP DRILLS 2:45–4:15 P.M.

  INDEPENDENT STUDY 4:30–6:00 P.M.

  DINNER 6:15–7:00 P.M.

  COMMUNAL TIME 7:00–8:00 P.M.

  LIGHTS-OUT 8:15 P.M.

  TWENTY-TWO

  IN LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, I DISCOVER just how out of shape I am. It’s a painful lesson. After seventy-two hours, I’m not sure I’ll survive one more day.

  Every morning, the doors unbolt at six a.m. We have only a few minutes to dress before heading outside for a pre-break-fast run. The Mount Haven staff greets us with shouts and whistles and a clanging bell that makes me think I’m in a boot camp. The hard-core kind you see in movies. The type where cadets are driven to suicide. Only this isn’t a movie. And none of us are here to die. By the time we get to breakfast, we fall on our food, ravenous. Sean and Gil sit at the same table with me, but we’re so busy eating we barely speak.

  This is my new life. We eat, work, sleep. Nothing more. Even Sabine has shaken off the effects of her thrashing. I haven’t heard her cry again since that first night. She even beats me downstairs most mornings.

  We run a second time after breakfast. The grounds ar
e vast, winding through thick trees, the mountains a great hulking shape in the horizon. The run lasts over an hour and they shout at us the entire time. I try to block them out, letting music fill my head as I lift one leg after another. Somehow, I’m not the last in the pack, which I like to think is saying something. Especially since we run as one group. Boys and girls.

  “You’ll run together, sweat together, bleed together,” the guards yell from the back of ATVs. “Out there, your gender doesn’t matter! It’s not going to matter in here.”

  Even though I’m not the slowest, I’m the slowest girl. Four boys trail me. One looks like he’s never missed a Twinkie a day in his life, so that is rather lowering. And worrisome. Especially when during one of my first runs, I see a guard with a stopwatch frown and jot down my time on a clipboard.

  I have to be better. Each day this is my sole thought as my feet pound over the ground. Except I’m convinced my legs will give out any moment and I’ll fall flat on my face to be trampled by the boys behind me.

  I push past pain. Past the stitches pinching my side.

  Saliva floods my mouth one morning as I catch myself from falling. Staggering, I keep on and suddenly notice I’m not running alone anymore. Someone keeps an even pace next to me.

  “C’mon. Speed up.”

  Gasping, lungs burning, I turn my head. Sean runs beside me, his arms swinging lightly, his strides smooth and easy like we haven’t been running for an eternity. Of course this would be easy for him.

  I huff at the sweaty hair falling in my face. “Just let me die.”

  He gives a short laugh. “You’re not going to die.”

  “Yes. I. Am.” I pant each word, marveling at how he can talk like he’s strolling in the park and not fighting for every breath. It infuriates me and gives me the strength to push my legs harder.

  “Not today.” There’s something in his voice that draws my attention. A grimness that carries over the sound of my pants and the pound of feet around us. A quick glance at his face reveals Sean focused straight ahead, his stare fixed on Sabine. Her delicate face is still bruised and swollen, her lip scabbed up. His gaze slides to Addy. The stocky girl hasn’t hurt anyone else. No one has. There haven’t been any altercations . . . not since the guards used that electric prod on Addy. Word got around about that.

  His gaze flicks to me and he speaks in a low voice. “You need to watch your back in here. The guards can’t keep us all in line. Not all the time. Some of these kids . . .” His voice fades, but I understand.

  I look ahead, scanning the few dozen backs running ahead of me. All of them carriers. Some of them must be violent at their core. The threat of electric prods and the promise of a future won’t be enough to stop any true killer.

  I start running harder, pushing past the burn, ignoring the tremble in my legs, the lungs that ache, determined not to be weak. To become faster, stronger. No one’s victim.

  I don’t look to see if Sean keeps up behind me, but I sense him there. As I move ahead, I feel multiple sets of eyes on me, calculating, sizing me up. I don’t back down, don’t slow my pace, too aware that if I do they’ll remember that I can’t perform.

  The only thing I need for them to remember is that I’m not weak. Not a target.

  The following morning we’re led into the refectory after our first run. We fall on our breakfast like wolves. As usual. We’re always famished. It’s a constant state of being. My stomach rolls at the generous fare spread before us. Eggs and bacon. Toast, muffins, biscuits, waffles the size of encyclopedias. Clearly, they don’t intend to starve us.

  I hardly chew before swallowing a mouthful. Still, I’m cautious not to overeat. I don’t want to be too stuffed. We have another run and more grueling activity ahead. You eat too much and then you’re left puking up your guts.

  A tray loaded with food slams down in front of me. A massive, thick-necked boy sinks down across from me. His plastic chair creaks in protest. Sabine tenses beside me. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s always there, a shadow beside me. She especially doesn’t talk with Gil and Sean, eyeing them with distrust, but her presence has become reassuring. One of the few things I can count on.

  “That all you’re gonna eat?” The guy nods at my plate of eggs and toast.

  I take another bite of toast and shrug. Sabine has even less food on her plate, but he doesn’t comment on that.

  “Saw you running. My name is Tully.” He fixes his gaze on me alone even though Gil and Sabine sit on either side of me. I haven’t seen Sean since our run. He’s probably still in line getting food.

  Gil takes a loud sip from his coffee mug, his way of insinuating himself. I slide him a quick look before answering. “I’m Davy. This is Gil and Sabine.”

  He looks Gil and Sabine over quickly. Dismissing them, he looks back at me. “Where you from, Davy?”

  “Texas.”

  He nods as he folds a slice of bacon into his mouth. “I’m from Oklahoma.”

  I’ve noticed Tully before, but this is the first time he’s approached me. He’s one of the bigger boys here. From his size, I would guess he’s a jock, but I know better than to assume anything about anyone. I wonder what special skill landed him in here and not a detention camp.

  “Good food,” Tully remarks as he chomps on another slice of bacon. “I lived with my grandmother before this. She couldn’t even boil water. Most of my food came out of a vending machine. When they expelled me from school, I was stuck out in the country with her. Nearly starved.”

  I eye his immense body, thinking there is little evidence to support that.

  Tully suddenly waves his fork in the air. “Hey, Jackson! Over here!” He motions another boy to our table. My heart rate picks up at the arrival of the second boy. I can’t help myself. I should be used to the idea that carriers surround me at every side. I’m a carrier, too.

  Still, I scan the room for Sean. That first glimpse of him intimidated me. Hopefully, he has the same effect on others.

  “Hey.” Jackson lowers himself into the seat next to Tully. When his gaze lands on me, a wide smile stretches his lips. He’s handsome in a slick kind of way. Nothing about him screams killer except the imprint on his neck. “Trust old Tully here to make friends with two of the only girls around.” His gaze narrows on me. “One of the prettiest, too.”

  I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. Do I look like someone to be sucked in by empty compliments?

  He didn’t miss the eye-rolling. His smile slips. “Nice collar. Ink looks fresh. I’ve had mine three years. What’d you do to get that?” A hardness enters his voice and it’s like he opened a window for me to glimpse inside him and see what really lurks there.

  “Nothing.”

  Which is true. But I know he won’t believe me. He would never believe me guiltless of doing something violent and ugly. Because that’s what he is . . . what he does. I know it. See it in the dead eyes. He’s everything the world fears and rightly so.

  “I’m sure,” he echoes.

  “What would I do?” I shrug and force a teasing grin. “I’m just a girl.”

  “That’s right.” Tully grins idiotically. “You’re here for us.”

  My grin evaporates.

  “That’s not true,” Gil cuts in.

  Tully frowns at him. “You don’t think the girls are expected to be trained to be anything special. . . .”

  I start to get annoyed. “Why not?”

  “Dude,” Tully laughs. “We’re going to be superspies and assassins . . . like James Bond and crap. You girls are just here to keep us entertained.” He waggles his eyebrows at me and I want to slap him.

  “You’re wrong,” I say quietly. “Each one of us was selected . . . although why you got picked is beyond me. You’re clearly not here for your IQ.”

  Sabine inhales sharply.

  Tully’s face flushes. “Aren’t you a lippy bitch?”

  Gil tenses beside me, and it’s like we’re back in the Cage again with Nathan giving me a
hard time. Gil’s going to get himself hit again if he doesn’t tread carefully. I place a hand on his arm under the table, cautioning him.

  Jackson very deliberately clears his throat, drawing my attention. His fingers touch his neck. “Want to know what I did?”

  “No.”

  He smiles and continues anyway. “There was a little girl who lived on my street—”

  “Stop,” I say, sensing where this story was going, but he keeps talking anyway.

  “She was maybe nine, ten . . . she had this tabby cat. She loved that cat. It would actually let her push it around in this stupid doll stroller.”

  Sabine starts scraping the inside of her yogurt cup faster like she’s desperate to do something with her hands—or just cover the sound of his voice.

  “I caught that cat.” Jackson’s eyes hold mine. They’re dead, emotionless. His fingers toy with his fork, rotating it where it rests on his tray. “I cut it open.” His head cocks to the side. “Just to see what it looks like inside. I still wonder about the blood, the organs . . . how they compare to human blood. “

  How they compare. As though it’s a certainty he will find this out for himself.

  Jackson laughs then, low and deep, his gaze scanning the three of us. “Oh, you should see your faces.”

  “Is that a joke?” I ask, suddenly not sure.

  He stops laughing, but the amusement still lingers in his light-colored eyes. “I’m going to enjoy you.”

  A chill skates my spine. Tully’s announcement that girls are only here for entertainment echoes through me. I won’t be entertainment for anyone here.

  Gil clears his throat and, even though I warned him not to, I know he’s going to speak up, stick up for me like he did in the Cage. I can’t let him do that. This cage is bigger . . . with more predators in it.

  “I doubt that,” I say before Gil finds his voice. I stare at Jackson, returning his snake-oil smile with one of my own. “I’m really not very likable.”

  “No argument there.” Tully folds another slice of bacon into his mouth, evidently still smarting over my insult.