by J B Cantwell
The other patrons went back to their eggs, and I took a seat, not quite knowing what to do next.
“How can I help you?” he asked, resting his palms against the counter, the muscles in his arms rippling.
I stared around the diner, confused. Where was Chambers?
“Um, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here. But I’m not sure if—”
The man with no designation rose from his place at one of the tables, the legs of the chair scraping against the linoleum floor. He moved toward me swiftly before I could say another word.
“You’re in the right place, Soldier Taylor,” he whispered softly when he got close enough for me to hear him.
I turned to look at him. He was tall and thin with a long, brown beard. Young, though, maybe twenty-five.
He took a seat at the counter beside me and motioned for me to do the same. The Prime raised his eyebrows, then walked away through the swinging door between the front and rear of the restaurant.
Nobody looked up this time as my eyes darted around the room, heart hammering.
“I’m Jonathan,” the young man said. He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “A little focus, please.” He handed me a slip of paper and sat back on the stool, arms crossed.
“This location may be tapped. Do not speak above a whisper. There’s a blank spot on Broadway where the lens designations go haywire. It’s right where the alleyway is that you walked through. It’s safe right there for us, one of the only spots in Manhattan. But back here we need to be careful. They know about the diner, but that’s all they know. Few police patrol back here. They usually leave us alone.”
He looked me up and down, scratching his beard as I read.
“You’ll need your chip deactivated.”
My hand flew up to the chip on the side of my head, and a memory of intense pain sent a jolt through my body. Jonathan handed me a pencil.
“How?” I wrote back, my breathing becoming shallow as panic started to overtake me.
That was when I noticed a strange looking device in his hand. Immediately I moved backward off the stool. I had seen things like that before, tools that had been used on my chip in the past, which had been inexpertly removed on the forest floor.
“No. No way.” I got up, forgetting the need to hold my tongue. I made for the door.
He moved to block me, then whispered softly in my ear.
“This is what Lydia would have wanted. She picked you.”
I stared down at the device in his hand, still unwilling.
“It won’t hurt,” he assured me, and quick as a flash his arms flew up. One held me at the shoulder, and the other raised the device to the side of my head. There was a short buzzing sound, and suddenly the world as seen through my lens evaporated. Now, the people at the diner didn’t have any designations at all. Even their names were gone from my view, just as it had been when my chip had been totally removed back in battle. Everything, every person, was blank.
I grabbed Jonathan, whispering in his ear now. “Are you crazy?” I hissed. “They’ll know. Put it back.”
“They won’t know.”
His calmness was infuriating.
The swinging door that led to the kitchen opened then, and the Prime ushered a girl my age through. She had no designation, either.
“This is Kiyah,” Jonathan whispered softly. “She’ll be taking over your chip information for the time being.”
Kiyah walked forward, a slight girl with short brown hair, just like me. Seen from behind, we would be indistinguishable.
She looked at me, eyes wide, and nodded.
Jonathan raised up the device and pointed it at her chip. She gave a little shudder as he pressed the buttons on the controller.
“Now your chip information is in Kiyah’s head. She will go about her business, your business, in the city while she waits for us to return.”
I frowned. “You can do that?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I just did. Now, get yourself together. You’re about to see things no one else has seen. At least, no one on the inside of the wall.”
I took a step backward.
“No. They’ll know. Put it back.” I was trying to keep my voice to a whisper, but I was so alarmed it was easy to forget the need for quiet.
He sighed, exasperated, coming closer to whisper in my ear. “Go if you have to, but you’ll be walking to your death if you do. Your whole file is now in Kiyah’s head. If you leave now, you won’t have a designation at all. Your file will read as blank. People will want to know why, like the police patrolling down Broadway. Like the sergeants back at your base.
“You’re invisible now.”
This time the shot of fear that went through me ran all the way to my toes.
“Follow me,” he said, hoisting his backpack to his shoulders and turning toward the back door.
I watched him walk away, that device now stowed in his pocket. What would it take for me to steal it? To use it on myself? Would it even work?
Not without his help. Not without Kiyah’s.
My choices were few.
I took a deep breath and followed him through the door.
9th Avenue was deserted, but still we hid, just in case. As we dashed from building to building, I remembered what it had been like in Edmonton, fighting for our lives. It wasn’t so different now. Only this time I was unarmed.
But these buildings were beyond the scope of the police. Since no one came back here, few of them patrolled the area. The entire block was falling apart in disrepair. None of the Manhattanites would desire an apartment or business here, and yet I was sure that the rent would still be high, too high for someone on the State Credit system back in Brooklyn. Those people relied on the government for their ration cards, unable to find good work to pay for their food, themselves.
I started to calm down as we went, and as we ran away from known civilization, a thrill of excitement went through me. This, I knew how to do. I knew how to run from an enemy. And I knew who the enemy was now, and it wasn’t this man.
I was about to be taken to the Stilts, to the Volunteers.
This time when my heart hammered, it was with anticipation.
Jonathan ran toward a staircase leading down to a subway tunnel.
I paused. I knew that these tunnels had been walled off just as the city had been. Without the concrete keeping the surging water at bay, the whole underground system would be flooded. Before they’d filled them in, they’d tried for a year or two to keep the trains running, great machines pumping vast amounts of water out of the tunnels. But the relentless sea always won. As the storms had grown bigger and bigger, eventually there was no way to prevent the inevitable floods. I knew that all that waited for us down there was a mass of concrete.
But as I watched Jonathan descend, doubt flooded me.
Maybe there were things I didn’t know. I hadn’t known about the Service when I had joined, didn’t know that they would be altering the strongest of the young men until they were close to monsters, didn’t realize that they would turn me not just into a soldier, but a cold-blooded murderer.
There were all kinds of things I didn’t know, hadn’t known.
Jonathan’s words ran through my mind. I would be walking to my death if I didn’t follow him.
I flew down the stairs after him, nearly slipping on the condensation that had gathered on the slick tile.
“Where are we going?” I whispered. Even this quiet query was enough to echo across the walls of the staircase.
Jonathan turned around, one finger pressed against his lip, shushing me.
He continued downward until we were two flights below the street above. And then, there it was. Right at the bottom, just to the left of the wall of concrete, there was a small opening. He turned his body, squeezing himself through between the tile and the concrete.
I stood there, surprised and not a little scared. There could be anything down there.
But I followed.
&n
bsp; This was what Lydia had wanted. She had been the one to direct me to where I could help the resistance. She had trusted me, even though she’d known in the end that my bullet would be the one that took her life.
Now, she was gone for good.
At the bottom of the staircase, I paused. There was no light below, just darkness, just risk.
I squeezed my way through the opening to the tunnel and followed Jonathan inside.
Purchase The Volunteer (Lens Book 2) on Amazon today!
Also by J. B. Cantwell
Young Adult Dystopian
The Designate (Lens Book 1)
The Volunteer (Lens Book 2)
Middle Grade
Aster Wood and the Lost Maps of Almara (Book 1)
Aster Wood and the Book of Leveling (Book 2)
Aster Wood and the Blackburn Son (Book 3)
Aster Wood and the Child of Elyso (Book 4)
Aster Wood and the Wizard King (Book 5)
Early Readers
Sixth Grade Supernatural: Abigail’s Curse (Book 1)
Sixth Grade Supernatural: Zombied (Book 2)
About the Author
J. B. Cantwell calls the San Francisco Bay Area home. In the Lens series she explores coming of age in an imperfect world, the effects of greed and violence on all, and the miraculous power that hope can have over the human spirit.