Untamed Series, #1

by Madeline Dyer

  I watch him, wrinkling my nose as the smoke curls around me. I taste it on the roof of my mouth and behind my front teeth, darkness and ash. It reminds me how useless I’m being. I should be doing something to save my mother, but I’m not. I’m just sitting here.

  “Did you get any mouthwash?” I look over at Corin, but my eyes settle on the dusty ground in front of his feet.

  Rahn snorts. “We ain’t got time to get luxuries. We got to survive.”

  Corin purses his lips, blowing a thin line of smoke away from him, toward the town. I watch the smoke dissipate.

  “Right,” Rahn says a few minutes later. He stands up slowly, and I watch as he looks over the top of the rock, down the rugged mountainside, toward New Kimearo. “We need to get back to Nbutai now—for the Gods’ sake, Seven, stop snivelin’. We’ll send a search party out for Finn later. Once we’re safe.”

  “What about my mother?”

  Corin turns away from me, and Rahn makes a grunting sound. I bite my lip, narrowing my eyes at the two men as I stand. Adrenaline races around my body. Yes. I need to run. I need to get back to the village before Rahn and Corin, and I need to tell our people what really happened back there, before they infect everyone with their malicious lies. Those two have always hated my family, because my mother’s a Seer.

  “Take the fuel,” Corin barks at me, blocking the sun from his eyes with one stocky hand as he gets up.

  I gather the small containers and packets from my bag, shove them back into the leather rucksack, then pick up the fuel cans. Rahn adds a shoulder bag to my load. Inside it, glass clinks against glass. I straighten up. I’m tall for my age—my body’s a strange build: childlike, not in the least bit curvy, but I’m taller than my sister who’s twenty-five. Out of all my siblings, I look the most like our mother. I gulp.

  “Seven, you take the long route, past the black rocks—it’s safer. Corin and I will go the direct path. We’ll meet by Mountain Rock.” The usual meeting point, two miles from the village. “Any trouble, you follow the lessons.”

  I nod. The heat of the sun feels strange on my wet face, like unwelcome fingers caressing my skin. I shudder. It’ll be a long run, taking that detour, and the terrain will be mostly uphill. But Rahn’s right—it is safer. I frown, instinctively.

  “Take this.” Rahn hands me a gun.

  I stare at him, and my fingers wrap around it slowly. It’s a Luger. My lips start to form a word, but Rahn shakes his head.

  “We’ve all got them.” His voice is flat.

  I tuck it into the back of my waistband. It feels cold against my sweating skin.

  “Go now. You’ll need a head start.”

  Timing’s important, as always. I scramble backward, turning and lunging over the sand and shingle. The sun leaps in my eyes.

  Keep your breathing even. Don’t overdo yourself before you’re really going.

  I speed up, my feet finding a regular rhythm. The fuel cans and shoulder bag are bulky, and the rucksack bruises my spine. Pain grips my shoulders. More tears blur my vision.

  I will get you back, Mum. I will.

  I punctuate each step, each slamming of the bags on my back, with a word. Over and over. I. Will. Get. You. Back. I’ll get my brother and sister, my father and a truck. We will not give up.

  Ahead, the horizon’s rocky, rising above me.

  A minute goes past. Two. Five. Ten. Dust kicks up under my feet. A few solitary trees rise ahead of me, reaching over ditches toward each other with skeletal fingers that will never meet. I jump over a small pit. Loose gravel and sand. Shards of rock, sharp.

  I slow down, my lungs burn. I try to push the straps of the bags higher onto my shoulder with the momentum. Long strands of my hair flap into my eyes. I curse. Have I got time to stop? Sharp breaths. Yes, I can afford a ten second stop. There’s a band on my wrist—I can feel it cutting into my skin. Five seconds at the most, that’s all it would take.

  Turning, I put the fuel cans down and ease the shoulder bag off. I let out a short sigh. I cough as I tie my hair back, phlegm flying from my mouth onto the dry ground.

  There. Five seconds. That allows another stop later on.

  I stoop, scooping my fingers under the cans’ handles, and—

  I whirl around as the flash of a mirror captures my eye.

  That’s when I see them: the figures rising out of the sand.

  The people who kidnapped my mother.

  Lesson one: you can never outrun the Enhanced Ones. They are better, faster, and stronger than you.

  I drop the cans and the bags, and I run. I know what the lesson says, but I have to try. I can’t not. I force my body onward. They let me stay just ahead of them, for a minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. My legs are giving out, my chest throbs. They could catch me easily if they wanted. No, they’re enjoying this: the chase. If they were running lean, they’d only need a top-up. It would take three seconds for them to guzzle another chemical augmenter and get the speed they needed. No, they’ve got the capability all right—they’re playing with me.

  My head pounds. Another five minutes, and the heat’s making me dizzy. My eyes are blurring. I flick my head around. There are four of them, men and women. Shouts like stone on tin fill the air.

  “We won’t harm you, poor Untamed creature, we want to help you.”

  The voice is full of kindness. Kindness I know isn’t genuine.

  The Luger rubs against my lower back with every bound. Breathing hard, I look ahead. To the right, far behind the dunes and rocks, is our village, out of sight at the moment. Nearer is the stone circle with Mountain Rock in the middle. I look toward it, squinting through streaming eyes to see Rahn or Corin. I look for the glint of sun on dark glasses, but it isn’t there. Rahn’s not standing against the orange rock. And he’s not in the shadows. Am I too early? No. They were going the direct route; they’d get here before me, unless they’ve been caught.

  “We are the Chosen. We command that you stop!”

  Lesson two: Don’t ever lead the Enhanced Ones toward the village, no matter how scared you are. Sacrifice yourself.

  Rahn’s words jolt through me. I snake off to the left, weaving between boulders, my lungs burning. Dust kicks up against my bare legs. I squint, trying to catch the outline of another human shape—or help—among the rocks. Looking for huddled figures, or the hidden barrel of a gun.

  My feet pound the ground. My eyes search frantically. Are any Untamed there? Is there somewhere to hide?

  Pain in my lungs. Can’t go on for much longer.

  There are four of them. Four to one. But I have a gun. They won’t have guns. They never have guns or any weapons because they claim that murder—though it happens ‘accidentally’—is never their intention. Conversion is.

  I drag out the Luger. It feels good in my hand. I look ahead. The jagged darkness of a dead tree looms up, and just beyond it is the old well. I skid, then change direction. There are black rocks to the right. The back of my neck smolders.

  Sudden pain—my knee buckles, but I regain my balance. I falter. The tips of their shadows touch me. I start to reach for my sunglasses, but there’s no point. They know I’m Untamed.

  The Luger raises my other hand up, almost as though the semi-automatic pistol is in control, not me.

  “Surrender!” The Luger is slippery in my sweaty hand as I point it at them, flicking the safety off in an instant. I catch the face of the nearest woman—her reflective eyes steal light and fire it back at me. My breath catches. They keep coming at me.

  Turn, Seven, run. Run now.

  But my legs have gone soft. I look first at one then another. The man, the two women—I twist hard, jerking my neck painfully, but the fourth Enhanced being isn’t to my left. Or my right. I step backward, the gun filling me with confidence. Then I turn toward the black rocks, and—

  I scream as the Enhanced man lunges at me. He gets to me too soon. They’re not running lean, after all. I pull the trigger, but it’s a wide shot. The bulle
t explodes off a rock.

  I thrust the gun between us. Its barrel nearly touches his chest. I want to ram it forward, but something stops me. This Enhanced man is young, but most of the Enhanced look young; appearance means nothing. His skin is as dark as mine is, and his eyes are the mirrors characteristic of the Enhanced. His face is deceptively kind. He can appear in any way he wants—or needs.

  He smiles, and I see how the skin around his mouth is unbelievably smooth.

  “You’re hungry, poor child. Let us feed you.”

  My hand shakes. My finger’s on the trigger. Just one movement. That’s all it would take. It’s the only way.

  I make eye contact; my stomach hardens. It’s not natural looking at a human whose pupils, irises, and sclerae are all the same metallic surface—distinguished only by a thin line that separates the iris from the sclera. There’s no definition for his pupil. I can just about make out my own distorted reflection in the convex mirrors. Nausea rises in me, and I look away.

  The others are approaching. Slowly, almost cautiously, they walk up to us. They can see I have a good line up, and I know I’m a good shot. I glance around, keeping them in my line of vision. The landscape is barren. Rahn is not here. No Untamed are here. Does that mean…?

  “Join us, dear. You are not a person, as you are. We want to save you, make you whole.” It’s the female with the blond hair who speaks now. Her voice is brisk, and I see her gaze drop back to my gun. “Don’t worry, dear. We will save you from the evil temptation that lies within you, and you’ll never have to feel negative emotions again. Lower your weapon.”

  My fingers tighten around the gun, my grip stronger. My intended victim’s breathing is heavy and fast, coming in quick, distinctive bursts. In fact, I’d almost say he was shaking—though, no, he can’t be. The Enhanced Ones won’t feel fear. It’s me who’s shaking.

  “Lower the gun.” His voice is low. “You are bad. You need help. Let us save you.”

  His voice almost sounds genuine. Sincere. Human, even. But he’s not, I know that. All the Untamed know the Enhanced Ones are like robots. They may sound like they’re still human, still us, but they’re not. They’re fake…imposters. We have the real emotions. We still feel pain, anger, hurt. We are the real people. Not them. How can they really be human when they let their drugs choose which emotions they feel? When part of being human is experiencing the pain, the anger, the loss?

  Lesson three: They deserve to die. Each and every one of them.

  Another of Rahn’s survival lessons echoes in my head. These people took my mother. They won’t get away with it. They won’t.

  For a second, I think I can still taste the smoke from Corin’s cigarette on the back of my front teeth as I look at the man in front of me. He does deserve to die. This is our land. This has always been our land, until they converted our people, tried to take over.

  Shoot them now. While you have the chance. Do it!

  I bite at my tongue, unable to stop myself from looking straight at the Enhanced man. His face is full of emotion, but it’s not real emotion; it’s all due to the augmenters. I know it is, because they’re not real people. Three hundred years ago, the Enhanced lifestyle didn’t even exist.

  Three hundred years ago, the first Untamed converted themselves into the Enhanced; they became robotic people. The only augmenters they’d made back then were the ones that gave them speed and strength and stamina. Made them inhuman at the expense of their humanity. But, soon after, they created the appearance-altering concoctions and their artificial emotions—only positive feelings though; the augmenters are there to make people better, happier, and therefore eradicate crime, violence, poverty, and sickness.

  Now they use their ‘emotions’ to their advantage, converting more and more of us into them; my father’s told me countless stories about this, where they trick you, tell you that you’ll still be able to feel everything, and then, before you know it, you’ve lost who you really are.

  “We will save you.” The Enhanced man’s dark hair is styled flawlessly, and not a hair has moved in the pursuit. He’s not even sweating; his skin is the smooth surface of a lake, shimmering in the harsh sunlight. He looks perfect, like he’s stepped off a catwalk. “You can join us, become a Chosen One too. Let us help you, and you need never feel negative emotions again.”

  I flinch; the Luger also flinches. Its metal burns my fingers, just as the sunlight reflecting from their eyes burns my own.

  “Put the gun down.” It is the dark-haired female who speaks.

  She exchanges glances with the other man, and their eyes bounce light from each other. He is tall and also has the same coloring as me. A scar falls from his right eye, down to the corner of his mouth in a jagged, fierce red line. I’m surprised he’s kept it, the Enhanced rarely do.

  My Luger remains where it is.

  Then they grab me. They’re strong. Of course they’d be strong! Arms snap around my waist and ankles, like bars of steel. I cry out as I fall, trying to turn. Fingers pull my hair, my scalp burns. I hit the ground heavily. My Luger’s yanked away as I squeeze the trigger. My bullet hits the kind-eyed man in the foot. His scream is blood-curdling, and, momentarily, I feel guilt.

  Then I remember who they are. I can’t afford to feel guilt. Not with them involved.

  I struggle, trying to get free. I can’t. The women lean over me, their hands force my back against the dry earth and loose rocks. It feels rough, scratching my skin through the thin cotton of my shirt.

  The sun flashes in my eyes. I blink rapidly. One of the women produces a vial of liquid. My skin burns, yet my fingers are shards of ice. My chest hardens. Rushing fills my ears. It’s too close. The augmenter is too close.

  Lesson four: Never let yourself be Enhanced. Once it’s done, there’s no going back.

  My mouth dries. An addiction to the augmenters, and the Enhanced Ones’ lifestyle, is unbreakable. Everyone knows that. Oh Gods.

  “No, please, no!” I try to roll over, try to escape, but my limbs won’t work. They’re too heavy, shaking too much. The vial containing the augmenter gets closer and closer. The liquid is as blue as the clear, shimmering sky.

  “You have violent intentions. There is no other way,” the first man says. His eyes flash, throwing light back at me. I squint, try to blink the sharp stings away. “You have to be saved. The hunger and fear is controlling you. It is not healthy.”

  “You must taste our way of life,” the blond female says. “Then you will understand, and you will wonder why you ever resisted. Why feel fear if you can choose not to?”

  I roll over, taste blood at the back of my mouth, and scream as the dark-haired woman grabs me again. She forces me onto my back again as the other woman lunges for my hands. The uninjured man is a heavy weight on my legs. The one I shot is still standing; who knows what augmenters he’s taken?

  My heart pounds, I can hear it in my throat and my head, beating in time to my shaking, cold fingers. The vial’s less than an inch from my mouth. The dark-haired woman flicks its lid off, while the other female crushes her nails into my shoulders. I try to break free, but she’s too strong. I don’t have the strength; everything but the augmenter is dimming, swirling away.

  The augmenter gets brighter, steals color until it’s too blue, too vibrant. My eyes burn.

  “Not the augmenter! No!” I pull a hand through the air, trying to gouge chunks out of the nearest arm, but everything’s blurry. I move, but they’re too powerful. Sweat drips into my eyes. I know I can’t escape, not without the Luger. Especially not once I’ve swallowed an augmenter. No, I need my gun. I have to fight them.

  I turn my head as the dark-haired woman forces my mouth open, her fingers latching onto my lips like clamps. I struggle again. A few feet away, I see my Luger lying on the dusty ground. It’s shimmering, smiling at me.

  “Get it in her!”

  Her grip on my jaw is tight, and she pulls at my lips roughly. I shriek and turn, try to strike out at the woman. Ad
renaline suddenly pounds through me, getting stronger and stronger, pulsing, coursing, forcing its way through my body. I kick out.

  “No—”

  Air rushes through my ears. My stomach turns.

  My mouth is forced open. The vial tips up. The blue color disappears. I choke, try to turn away, try to spit it out, but I can’t. Everything moves, blurs, spins. Heat pours through my body, chased by blinding coldness. Pain shoots through my chest, holding me down like tiny stone arrows. I gasp, my body stiffening, as the world around me drains of color, until even the skeletal images fade entirely, merging into a spectrum of grays, whites, and blacks that won’t stop laughing at me as I’m crushed, choking and drowning.

  The coils of rope around my wrists and ankles are too tight. My hands and feet are numb, foreign. Stretched out on my back, each of my limbs is pulled in an opposite direction. My shorts and T-shirt are gone, replaced by a blue gown. Anger flares through me at the thought of them touching my body.

  The mattress is hard and lumpy under my spine, but it smells of honey—something I’ve only tasted twice. I pull weakly on my arms. Pain snaps through my shoulders. For several seconds, I clench my eyes shut, trying to control my breathing. I will not cry.

  I am in a small pale blue room. I turn my head, and the skin on the back of my neck sticks to the sheet for a second, then makes a wet, squelching sound. The light around me gets brighter, and my eyes sting. My mouth tastes dry and bitter, a strange aftertaste. My eyelids are heavy. Fear pulses through me. I remember the flash of the augmenter burning through my body and…and nothing else. It’s just…just a blank.

  Gone….

  I gulp. The Untamed will come for me. We always come for each other. Always.

  Except, Rahn… My mother….

  My head hurts; there’s a buzzing in my ears as I remember the chase on the sand. I see the augmenter dripping toward me in the back of my mind. Bile rises.

  I look around again. That’s when I see the woman. She’s standing at the back of the room, next to the door. Her skin is paler than can be natural, and her hair is a metallic red that hurts my eyes. Her lips part, revealing perfect white teeth that are too white as she moves toward me. Twin metallic pools glimmer for an instant before the light refracts into my face, like laser beams. I wrench my gaze away, but the flashes from her eyes have left two circles of murky redness in my vision, as if I’ve been looking at the sun for too long.