Unfavorables

by JM Butcher

  “You’re telling me this is Patrick Mills’ kid?” a girl in front of me asks.

  “Yep. That’s the Hayden Mills.” That’s all it takes.

  I smile as I watch my fellow Unfavorables swallow Hayden whole.

  Chapter 26

  MESSAGE FROM YOUR PRESIDENT

  Citizens of the United Republics of America, I am deeply troubled by the horror we are witnessing across the Union Republic. I understand that those of you in the Union want to run away from the chaos. You want to throw in the towel and leave your strong Republic.

  I cannot allow that. I have ordered the Southern Republic and the Western Republic to close their respective borders. We must contain the problem. We must stay strong. We must stay united in the Union!

  There are other measures you can take too. If you are unlucky enough to be in the damage zones, please find safety. Do not attempt to confront the infected. And do not attempt to leave the Union. Gray Coats have been ordered to use any means necessary to maintain control at the borders.

  I am carefully monitoring the situation. A plan is in place to end the turmoil. Be patient and trust me.

  Thank you. Thank God. Our United Republics of America will persist.

  -President Lionel Washburn, 17 October, 2040

  My pack of girls plus Tyler heads south toward the Ohio River. That’s where the checkpoints are. There’s no direct route through the streets. The path to the river is more of the same. Blocked roads. Emergency vehicles. Fires. Rubble. Arrests. Crowds of onlookers. Even a dead body or five. Sometimes the bodies are those of Unfavorables; other times they are average citizens. If we’re lucky, we might come across a Gray Coat.

  The bodies don’t pose much of an obstacle. It’s fairly easy to make our way around them, and the shock of seeing all those corpses has worn off. I think all of us are desensitized, except for Tyler, who hides behind Lexa every time we approach one. And perhaps Olivia, who hasn’t spoken since we escaped the van.

  I tell myself it’s not as much about becoming numb to the horror and more about the adrenaline rush of self-preservation. I’m not sure I fully convince myself.

  “More Coats up ahead,” Gia says. “Gonna have to cut through here.” She’s referring to what once was an office or a shop or something else. There’s no way of telling.

  These destructed sites make for easy shortcuts. As long as we avoid sharp objects and persistent flames, we have few issues passing through. Our biggest concern is the Coats. Arrests have picked up as reinforcements are sent in. And a pack of six teenagers looks suspicious. Although most people ignore us, we don’t take any chances with the Coats.

  “Watch your step,” Lexa warns. “There are nails everywhere.”

  I conclude this was a hardware shop this morning. Now, it’s nothing other than a tetanus hazard. There aren’t many hammers or wrenches lying around. I’m sure the rioters picked this store clean.

  After a few more twists and turns through the streets, Melli shouts, “There it is!”

  The Ohio River comes into view. On the other side of the river, buses are parked and ready to drive Union escapees to refuge. Pickup trucks also prepare to take part in the rescue attempts. I’ve never seen one in the Union.

  Not much farther.

  “Yeah,” Gia says, “but there that is.” She points to a line of bumper-to-bumper vehicles waiting for border control to approve their passing. “How we gettin’ through that?”

  Gia’s right. It’s impossible. The guards aren’t letting anyone else through. Not cars. And surely not pedestrians. Those brave individuals who abandon their cars to sneak across the jammed-up bridge are caught and beaten by the authorities. A few gunshots ring out from the bridge, too.

  “They’re really shooting people?” I ask.

  “Not the ones in line,” Lexa answers. “The ones in the water. Look where they’re aiming.” She’s right. Coats lean on the bridge’s railing, like snipers. The guns point at a downward-angle.

  We walk forward until we’re about a block away from the river. We have a clear view. I look in the water. Kids and adults alike furiously swim across the river. It’s not calm like the Cuyahoga, and it’s much wider. The younger ones struggle.

  My friends talk strategy, but I don’t hear what they say. My attention is on a blonde girl who is swimming, fighting against the current. She doesn’t look a day older than nine, but everyone looks small from where I stand.

  The girl lags behind a man I assume to be her father. The dad stops, treads water, and waits for the girl to catch up. He swims back to her because she can’t go any farther. Before her dad makes it to her, a wave knocks her under. I watch for her to come back up for air, but she doesn’t. I keep watching and keep watching.

  Gia and Melli ask if I’m listening, and I snap back, “Wait!”

  At least two minutes pass, and the girl hasn’t come up. Don’t give up, I want to yell to her dad. Don’t give up. But I know and he knows that she’s gone. Instead of heading for the other side of the river, he treads water and slaps his head against the water. He yells something, over and over. Her name. It’s Julie. I hear him yell “Julie.”

  A gunshot coming from the direction of the bridge startles me. In no more time than it takes for me to blink, a circle of red forms where the father was. I watch the blood drift downstream. A floating body, face-down, emerges and floats on, leaving a trail of red.

  Fish in a barrel, I think, remembering what Tyler said earlier.

  I look to the sky. “They’re dead,” I mutter.

  “What did you say?” Melli asks.

  “They’re dead. The girl. Her father. They killed them.”

  “Have ya lost it?” Gia asks. “Is the virus getting ya?”

  Gia and Melli each hover over one of my shoulders. I say, “She was too young to be an Unfavorable. Eight. Maybe nine.” The age I was when I was chipped. “They were innocent.”

  Maybe violence is the only way to fight violence. Not the way Hayden did it, but maybe Jack’s right. Nobody stands a chance trying to outwit the government.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” Melli shakes me and brings my attention back to the group.

  “What’s the plan?” I ask.

  “We swim,” Gia answers, looking straight toward the water.

  This idea is hopeless. The girl and her dad are not the only victims. There are several bodies floating alongside a stream of crimson. I won’t let Tyler or any of the girls face that inevitable fate.

  “No,” I say. “We can’t swim.” I shake my head furiously.

  “We did it before,” Gia replies, stomping her foot on the pavement. “We can do it again.”

  “That was different! We weren’t clay pigeons for target practice!”

  The silence from the rest of the group tells me that they are in agreement. Nobody’s excited about the feat of dodging bullets.

  “We could wait it out,” Melli says. “Maybe they’ll start letting people through again.” She doesn’t even believe what she says, so there’s no chance anyone else does.

  I sit down. “You all need to go. You can still save yourselves.”

  “Huh?” one of the girls responds. I think it’s Lexa.

  “Not a chance!” Tyler shouts. He walks over and sits next to me, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I’m not leaving you, Maggie.”

  “Don’t be a freakin’ yahoo.” Olivia hasn’t gone mute after all. “We’re in this together.”

  They all continue to argue with me. I think we all know that their only chance of survival is to leave. If they want to somehow escape the city, it has to be without me. Swimming is too risky. It has to be at least a half-mile swim. And even if the borders are opened up, the checks will be thorough. I’m not getting through. If we stay here for too long, we’ll be arrested. Or we’ll be killed.

  There’s no other way. They need to leave me here. I can swim on my own.

  “ATTENTION. ATTENTION.” A robotic voice echoes through the city. A warning an
nouncement. “TO CONTAIN THE VIRUS, PRESIDENT WASHBURN HAS ORDERED A TEMPORARY DEACTIVATION OF CHIPS. THE DEACTIVATION STARTS IN THIRTY SECONDS.”

  Applause resonates loudly across the sky.

  “He caved!” Melli enthusiastically shouts. “Washburn actually caved!”

  The announcement repeats three more times before the countdown begins.

  30…29…

  “I can’t believe it,” Lexa says. “This will be over. We might be all right, at least long enough to escape.” She helps Tyler up from his seated position.

  26…25…

  Relief travels from my brain to my heart to every limb in my body. I begin to cry. Not a sob. Not tears of happiness. Not even tears of relief. I just cry.

  22…21…20…

  Gia grabs my shoulders and violently shakes them. “Do you hear that, hotshot! Woooooooooooo!” She puts her hands under my armpits and pulls me up. But I sit back down.

  Tyler joins the applause and my friends hug each other, while I continue to soak in the moment of each passing second.

  15…14…13…12…

  I finally stand up, wipe my tears away, and smile.

  “Oh, Maggie,” Melli says and wraps her arm around me.

  9…8…

  The others join and almost suffocate me in the group hug. I don’t mind struggling for air, as long as they never let go.

  3…2…1…

  “DEACTIVATION IN PROGRESS.”

  I brace myself for the fly behind my eye to slowly buzz out. Nothing. I let out a laugh.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHH,” I shriek. “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  The fly doesn’t buzz out. It turns into a trapped wasp—sticking me with its stinger over and over and over. I punch and slap my head, anything to kill the wasp. “Make it STOP!”

  Everyone jumps back in fright and watches me as I slump to the ground.

  “MY EYEEEEEEE! MY EYEEEEEE!”

  My hands involuntarily reach for my socket. I dig my claws into my eye. Warm, thick liquid dribbles down my fingers. I take a moment to look around. Several others shriek in pain and rip at their eyes like me.

  “Maggie! Stop!” I hear someone say. It sounds like a scream, but it’s mostly drowned out by the screeching in my ears. “She’s trying to rip her eyes out! Someone! Help me!”

  Hands touch my shoulders, but I easily shake them off. I reach back to my face and try to release the wasp by digging my nails in some more.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  Sting after sting after sting. Screeches pounding against my eardrums.

  “Grab her arms!” I can’t tell who’s speaking, but at least three of them take hold of me, keeping me from ripping out my eyeball.

  “STOOOOPPPPP! IT HURTSSSSSS! MY EYEEEEEE!”

  “Stick her with drugs. Anyone got anything?”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “Ugh. No.”

  “Help her! Make it stop! Margie!”

  There’s a moment of silence before one of them says, “We have to try!” Another moment of silence.

  As three of them hold my arms, the others lift me up and carry me. My eye still feels like it’s being punished by a sewing machine. I thrash free of their grasps and hit the ground hard. My face takes most of the damage. I taste blood. It could be from my lip, or it could be dripping down from my eye.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  “Hold her!”

  They try again and make a little ground before I fall again. This time, the pain from my elbow connecting pavement distracts me from my eye for about half of a second. It’s the best half-second of my entire life.

  “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  “Just throw her! On three!”

  I try to count with them, but I can’t. Maybe if the stings came in second-long intervals, I could keep track. But there are twenty or more per second.

  “Now!”

  I hit water. It’s warm, almost like bathwater. Too warm to soothe my eye. Splashes knock into me as the others land in the water. While my friends drag me across the current, I keep my eyelids open in hope that the water will disrupt the chip.

  It doesn’t. It agitates the wasp more. I beat my legs and arms, successfully breaking away from the human restraints. They regain their control before I get to my eye. I can’t scream without river water drowning my lungs.

  I hear gunshots. The softness of them makes me think they come from a far distance, but the frantic screams around me tell me my hearing is still blocked. I fight and fight as I’m pulled forward, choking on water every time my head bounces back into the water.

  If I choke on enough water, maybe I’ll pass out. I open my mouth and suck in as much water as I can until the noise stops and everything turns dark.

  Chapter 27

  Feed 66:

  This is a message for young Mills—if you are still breathing.

  Your arrogance will be your downfall. A lesson you should have learned from your dad.

  Do not underestimate the Gordons.

  We always get what I want.

  We never lose.

  The Tara Gordon only wins.

  Out.

  Tara Gordon, 17 October, 2040

  A pounding on my chest presses on my lungs. Breaths blown into my mouth, instead of out.

  I cough up water and an eye opens, only the right; the left sticks shut. I’m lying on grass. Melli’s kneeling down with her face a few inches away from mine. She’s breathing heavily through her perfect white smile.

  I see myself reflected in the large pupil centered in her blue eyes. My reflection shows a bloody ring around my left eye. The eye feels like it’s been through a blender, but at least the stinging has ended.

  “Melli,” I whisper, “what’s wrong?”

  She puts her hand over her mouth and laughs. Not because something is funny. It’s a laugh of relief. “Nothing,” she says. “You’re okay.” She pulls her shirt collar up to wipe her eyes.

  “Your hair,” I mutter. “The Bic-bun. Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she answers. “Everything is fine. Everything is great.”

  “You’re crying.” I try to raise my shoulders, but I’m too weak.

  “Don’t move, Maggie,” Melli says. “Just rest. And these are happy tears. I thought I lost you.” She keeps her gaze focused on me.

  I meet her gaze with one of my own. “You know I wouldn’t leave you.”

  “Do you promise?” she asks, leaning forward.

  “Promise,” I say. “Never ever.” Her face moves even closer.

  I close my eyes and lick my lips. Melli’s lips press against mine. During the gentle kiss, I forget the pain in my eyes. I concentrate on the softness of her lips. Her mouth tastes like the natural scent of her skin.

  I know she takes my racing heart and nervous legs as a sign of extreme happiness.

  The wetness of her lips remains on mine as our mouths separate. Blushing, Melli slides loose strands of hair behind her ear. She bites her lip, but her teeth can’t stop her smile from growing. I don’t try to hold back my smile.

  She kisses me again.

  Screams from the other side of the river persist, but nothing on earth could disrupt the joy I feel right now.

  “Dang, hotshot!” Leave it to Gia to break up a moment. “I woulda tried to drown, too, if I knew Melli would make out with me.” She winks and Melli teasingly pushes her away.

  Lexa, Olivia, and Tyler come into view too. The two girls are smiling. Tyler looks like he either wants to hit me or give me a high five. His nodding and raised eyebrows are enough approval I need.

  Exhaustion consumes me and I close my eyes—thinking about the next time I’ll taste Melli’s lips. Lexa was right; night thoughts aren’t always bad. The thoughts continue until I fall asleep.

  ***

  I wake up to blinding sunlight shining through an open window. The yellow curtains clash with the light lavender valance. A slight breeze sneaks through the screen, and I hear the soft sound of rolling waves.
<
br />   My brain feels bruised, and my sight only works out of one eye. I slowly reach my hand up. A bandage covers my left eye. I want to take the bandage off to see if I succeeded in ripping out my chip, but the slightest touch sends a bolt of pain through every nerve in my body.

  I let it go for now.

  In the corner of the room, Tyler’s curled up on a large reclining chair. He’s safe. He looks so peaceful.

  “Maggie!” The volume of Melli’s voice causes me to cringe in pain. She drops a book to the floor and whispers, “Sorry. You’re awake.” She smiles. I do too, a signal that I remember our kiss.

  Melli’s excitement wakes Tyler from his slumber.

  “Margie!” He’s just as loud. Knowing every part of me is in agony, Tyler hugs me anyway. I try my best to hug him back. “I’m gonna go get Lexa!”

  As happy as I am to receive the warm welcome, I long to sleep more. I know they’re not going to let that happen, though.

  “How are you feeling?” Melli asks and strokes my hair. She doesn’t expect an answer. She knows how I feel. She always does.

  I smile back. “Where are we?” I choke out.

  “Orlando,” she answers. “We made it to Orlando.”

  “Why the Bic-bun?” I ask. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, Maggie,” she laughs. “You’re right, though. I should’ve done my makeup and hair for your reawakening.” We both laugh at her joke.

  Tyler and Lexa enter the room. The dark rings under Lexa’s eyes don’t allow her smile to hide her exhaustion. In this moment of excitement, she looks sad.

  “Where’s Ronnie?” I ask.

  Holding her smile in place, Lexa approaches me and kisses my forehead. “Ronnie’s not here, Maggie.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie,” Lexa says as a tear rolls down her face. “Jack gave us bad information. It turns out that Ronnie wasn’t deported. He was arrested.”

  “Huh?” I don’t know why I act confused. I’m not. Even if Jack and part of my brain told me Ronnie was in Florida, I don’t think I ever truly believed he was released.