Evolution (The Repatriate Protocol Book 7)

by Kelli Kimble

  I glanced at Elton. His jaw was working, but I couldn’t read his expression. “I don’t want to stay with my aunt,” I said. It popped out of my mouth before I even knew I was saying it. I’m sure I looked even more surprised than Father did.

  “So, you’ll stay with me, then?” he asked.

  Whoa, Nim. What are you doing? Elton asked me.

  “I can’t stay with my aunt,” I explained. “She turned us over to Mrs. Darit. She doesn’t care about me at all.”

  You can’t be serious, Elton said.

  “Then, it’s settled,” Father said. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow, so you might want to pack your things.”

  I stood and looked down at Elton. His eyebrows were squished together, and he shook his head. I didn’t answer him; instead, I went to my room to pack my things.

  He followed and closed the door behind us. “What about our plan?” he asked.

  “What about it?” I opened the armoire and began pulling my clothes off their hangers.

  “I thought we were going to get rid of Father,” he said, hushing his voice and glancing back at the door. “You can’t go and live with him.”

  “He doesn’t have anyone,” I said, “and neither do I.” I turned back to the armoire so that I didn’t have to face him when I said it. “I don’t want to kill him anymore, anyway.”

  Elton grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. “How can you say that? We agreed we’d kill him after we got what we came for. It’s done. So, let’s get rid of him.”

  I shook my head. “No. Look. This might seem stupid, but he’s shown me more care than I know what to do with, after what happened to us. I don’t see the point of getting rid of him now. I . . . I like him.”

  Elton stood there, blinking. Then, he frowned. “You don’t see the point?”

  “No. Look. You were right about monstrous acts. We’ve killed enough people. Let’s just get on with our lives. We don’t have to dwell on what happened to us anymore. What happened . . . it gave us gifts. Powerful gifts. Killing him will only make it more difficult for us to make our way.”

  Elton didn’t answer. He left the room, and I heard his door slam a moment later. I winced. I didn’t want him to be angry with me. I just wanted all this hate to go away.

  ◆◆◆

  In the morning, Father fixed us breakfast, and we sat down to eat. He was busy chattering away about the lives we would have on the outside. He seemed unaware of the tension between me and Elton.

  When breakfast was done, he took us to the elevator. We rode up to the shed in my backyard, and when the doors opened, Weasel was standing there. He regarded Father with a glare but grasped Elton in a bear hug. I’ve been searching for you since you left, Weasel said.

  I’m all right. Let’s just go home, Elton said.

  We’re not just going to go home, Weasel countered. Someone has to pay for this.

  No, Elton said, moving towards Weasel and shaking his head. Weas, I just want this to be over and done with. Please, let’s go home.

  Weasel reached out to Elton, and Elton fell into his outstretched arms. He clutched Elton to his chest with one arm and raised the other.

  There was a flash and a bang—a noise I’d grown accustomed to. But, I wasn’t expecting it, and I couldn’t deflect the bullet. Not the first one, anyway. I turned the rest harmlessly away, until Weasel had spent his ammunition.

  Elton fell to the ground, jerking. Weasel bent over him, dropping the gun. But, as soon as he touched Elton, his joints seemed to stiffen. He tipped over on top of Elton.

  “No! What are you doing?!” I yelled.

  “Don’t touch them,” Father said. His voice was calm and cold.

  “Stop hurting them, then,” I said, snapping my eyes to him. “Just leave them alone.”

  “You saw what he did,” Father replied. “This is self-defense.”

  “It was self-defense,” I said. “Now, you’re just hurting them on purpose.”

  “They don’t hurt anymore,” he said. “It’s all over.”

  I looked back at Elton. He was lying face-down with one arm stuck underneath him, and Weasel draped over his back.

  Neither of them was moving.

  “They’re . . . they’re dead?”

  “Shh. There, now. They won’t try to hurt us anymore,” Father said. He’d come to my side without me noticing, and he patted my head.

  I jerked away. “They weren’t hurting us,” I said. “One of them was harmlessly trying to hurt you, and I protected you. You didn’t need to hurt them, let alone kill them.” I clenched my fists. I could feel my abilities starting to fire up to the edge of my control.

  His finger hovered over the button of the device in his hand. “I don’t want to use this,” he said. “Not on you.”

  My teeth gritted together with the effort of containing my thoughts, and I took a step away. “But, you wanted to use it on him?” I asked.

  “It was always you,” he explained. “I knew from the beginning, before Mrs. Darit started recruiting. You were always the target.”

  My anger started to dissipate in my confusion. “But . . . but, why me?”

  “You had natural abilities. All the tests said so.”

  “You were testing us? In school?”

  “In school. At home. When you played. Everywhere. Telepathic abilities don’t need a classroom to be measured, Nimisila. You had the strongest markers of anyone, whether they had an implant or not, and your abilities have become greater than I could ever have imagined.”

  The rage inside me redoubled. I wasn’t just a thing to be tested, poked, and prodded.

  Father’s eyes widened, and he frantically pushed the button. The jolt clamped my mouth shut so hard, I could taste blood. The pain was bad, but thanks to Mrs. Darit and the doctor, it wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever felt.

  I closed my eyes and envisioned whatever was causing the pain, making it swirl around inside my body, creating a vortex. The pain eased, and my concentration increased, and when I opened my eyes, Father tripped over Elton and Weasel’s bodies as he cringed away from me. His eyes were open so wide that the whites were visible all around the irises. His mouth was contorted into an empty scream. He held up his hands to fend me off, but his fingers curled uselessly into claws. “Stop, Nimisila,” he croaked. “Please.”

  But, his begging only made me angrier. His head tipped back, and the tendons in his neck stood out like ropes against his skin. The exposed skin began to ripple, like water disturbed by a pebble, throwing off bits of itself at the crest of each wave. His skin dissipated, revealing muscles and bones. His eyeballs no longer had eyelids, and they were rolling around in their sockets. “Nimisila!” he called out once more.

  Then, with a quiet puff, his body flew apart into tiny flakes of dust and blew away.

  I fell to my knees. The physical pain was gone. But, I’d never be the same.

  Epilogue

  Aunt Rue did let me stay with her. She was afraid of me, but she let me stay, and just as Father had promised, a spot was being held for me at the regular school. I attended for a while and tried to make it work. The other kids knew there was something different about me and whispered behind my back. Rather than hurt them out of anger, I dropped out and stayed at Aunt Rue’s to care for Arisa. I don’t think Aunt Rue minded taking advantage of a free babysitter, but she was disappointed in my decision to leave school. I couldn’t explain; she didn’t know I’d killed all those people.

  Eventually, she introduced me to a friend of hers, someone she said would know how to help me. Her name was Gayle. Gayle had an implant, but she could speak. After a time, I found out she’d had a sister, whose implant had failed when she developed an inoperable but benign tumor. She told me stories about how her sister had defied her role and had been punished, and one of her punishments had been to oversee a group of outsiders who had been drawn into the city for labor. Unfortunately, she’d fallen in love with the leader of the outsiders, and they’d fled. Gayle had lo
ng been waiting for her sister to return.

  “Do you ever think about leaving here?” Gayle asked me at the park one day. We were taking turns pushing Arisa on a swing. “Just going outside the city and striking out on your own with a new life?”

  I shrugged. “Nobody ever leaves the city,” I said.

  Gayle’s eyes focused on something far away. “Tabby did.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to survive outside the city. Nobody did; that’s why people went to the shanties instead of leaving.

  “I know she’s alive out there,” she told me, “and I know how to find her now.”

  “Really?” I asked. “How?”

  She turned to me and gave me a crooked smile. “You.”

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  About Kelli Kimble

  I live and work in Northeast Ohio with my husband, two kids, and two dogs. When I’m not writing, I enjoy all kinds of nerdy things including quilting, reading, cooking, coding, running and most certainly not cleaning.

  I welcome questions and comments from readers. If you would like to contact me directly, you can send an email to KelliKimble@repatriateprotocol.com. To learn more about my writing, please visit KelliKimble.com.