A walkie-talkie crackles from Claus’ gym bag. He holds it to his ear.
“TV…any moment now…” is all I catch from the garbled message.
“I understand,” Claus replies, pulling at his mustache again. Frowning, he turns to me. “Come with me.”
He calls to the rest of the kids in the gym, and we all walk to the far end toward the wall-mounted monitor. Picking up the remote, Claus thumbs the power button. The whispered conversations fall quiet. Students gather around us. Kyle’s breath puffs against my neck.
The screen comes to life, and the presidential seal fills every inch of it. My stomach clenches and ice slithers down my throat. A panic attack hovers, thick and immediate, like it does every time I see that damn symbol.
“Terror attack?” Kyle whispers in my ear.
I shrug. I know it will be far more personal than that. The last time President Bear gave an unannounced public message, my mother was thrown in prison. My mind races in time with my accelerated heartbeat. I picture my dad working in his underground lab. Is he watching the same message?
“Da-da-da-dum….” one of the bulks calls, laughing.
“Shhh.” Claus glares at those making noise.
I look at my toes, bracing myself, knowing deep in my gut something bad is going to happen. Seconds tick by. “What’s going on?” Kyle whispers.
“I’ve no idea,” I say, watching as the presidential seal is replaced by a room in the White House. The camera pans to a horde of journalists in temporary seating, their faces tense, jotting notes on smart phones. The bell rings, signaling we should be in homeroom. Claus crosses his arms, one elbow resting in the crook of the other, his forefinger tapping his cheek.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Kyle asks.
With the knife still in my hand, I turn my head toward him. “Always.”
On the screen, the president’s arrogant face looms from behind his desk in the Oval Office, the Stars and Stripes hanging to his left to remind us of his stance: patriotism and loyalty above all else. The scar under his eye is bleached a pale color but no less ugly than a raw wound. He’s never taken a nanite to heal it.
The ice in my throat hardens. I squeeze my eyes closed.
Then he speaks, his patronizing voice familiar. It’s a voice that fills my dreams. No, not my dreams—my nightmares. It’s a deep, barking voice, well-placed to scare a bunch of fresh army cadets into dropping out. The voice that condemned my mother.
“This is a national announcement. All unadjusteds age twelve and over will now be required to take a nanite pill to enhance their abilities. With threats and competition from overseas, we must do more to further the strength of our country.” The president’s red eyes stare into mine, as if the message is just for me.
A dizzy spell washes over me, and I reach out a hand to Claus, who holds my arm. “Breathe, Silver.”
On screen, the president continues. “The nanite representative agency is on its way to every school right now. They will assign each eligible unadjusted a ticket number. You are not permitted to leave before you have your ticket. This ticket will tell you which day within the next two weeks you will be assessed for an appropriate nanite level. You’ll notice some of those assessments start today. Nanite reps and soldiers are on their way to each school in every city to aid the process…”
Kyle inhales sharply. I hold my breath, afraid I’ll collapse if I let it out.
“Once this assessment is complete, we will proceed to residences to evaluate the unadjusted adults. I expect each unadjusted individual to join the strength of the adjusted superbeings. Failure to comply will result in unfortunate circumstances.”
A muscle in Claus’ jaw pulses. He’s an unadjusted too. And Matt…
President Bear’s red, inhuman eyes stay fixed on mine. Even his pupils are red, and they seem to whirl with fire. Today is my sixteenth birthday. It’s almost as if he planned it this way, to make as much impact on my life as possible.
“Our country is the most powerful in the world. Your loyalty and patriotism is expected. But in case you need a reminder of what happens to traitors…”
An image of my mother’s face fills the screen. An old image. From two years ago, when she was arrested for treason because she refused to produce more nanite pills. I haven’t seen her since. They won’t let me near her.
I’m not even sure if she’s still alive.
We stand in the gym, my friends muttering, me staring into President Bear’s menacing face. The image of my mother is reduced to the top right corner. I want to go up and put my finger to the screen, just to touch her.
“They can’t do this,” I whisper, gripping the knife even tighter.
A few eyes turn to me.
Claus shuts off the monitor. A tense silence holds the group breathless for a few moments.
“Can he really do that?” Kyle asks. Although tall and already a brown belt, his skinny frame quivers with uncertainty. What does he have to worry about? He’s already taken a speed nanite.
“It’s not our place to question the will of the president,” Claus says, his voice low. His eyes scan the altereds’ faces.
“Dude, didn’t you just set a record?” someone at the back of the group asks Kyle. “The mile, wasn’t it?” Karate isn’t Kyle’s only strength.
“I…” Kyle’s mouth gapes open. “I chose the speed nanite. But it shouldn’t be forced on someone if they don’t want it.”
I’ve always planned to escape. Maybe it’s going to happen sooner rather than later. The cuff around my ankle weighs heavy and my calf twitches with the need to run.
“No, it shouldn’t be forced on anyone.” The hilt of the knife digs painfully into my palm, but I don’t release my grip. “So much for living in a democracy.”
Kyle turns to face me. “What are you going to do? You’re unadjusted.”
I manage a shrug before my shoulders collapse. I bite down hard to prevent a tear escaping. Sliding the knife up my sleeve, I survey the group. Speed, strength, resilience, armored skin, to name a few of the abilities in the room. Besides Claus and a small freshman girl and me, there isn’t a single other unadjusted.
“I don’t want to take a pill,” the freshman says. She’d be perfect for a pair of fairy wings. “I lost both my brothers to nanite pills. They’re not safe!” She sobs, then runs from the room.
“What’s the alternative?” Kyles says quietly.
“You get arrested,” Claus says. “Or detained. You heard the president. He speaks in euphemisms. ‘Unfortunate circumstances?’ You’d be lucky. Just look at Silver’s mother.”
Everyone’s eyes find me. Why does he have to bring that up? The picture of her from two years ago is bad enough. On trial. Refusing to make the pills that are improving our country. Which is fine if you’re talking about organ regeneration or the eradication of cancer. But no body odor? Running faster than a speeding bullet? Skin more impenetrable than a tank? The ability to fly to the clouds? It’s all greed. My mother drew a line.
“Whatcha gonna choose, Silver?” A bulk crosses his arms and sneers at me. “You’ve always been on the feisty side. Maybe the light of a firefly?”
Foolish. Everyone I know who’s taken the firefly nanite never gets a wink of sleep.
“I can’t even believe there are any unadjusteds left,” the bulk drones on, his biceps crossed over his ten-pack. He may tower over me by about two feet, but I’m not intimidated.
“Twenty percent,” I snap. “Which is four more than the percentage of blondes in the world.”
“Won’t take long to improve you all, then.” The bulk cracks his knuckles. “And we might as well cull the blondes while we’re at it. All that bimbo airhead thinking.” He grins.
I want to punch him, but instead I grit my teeth and fist my hand around the secret knife.
“Silver…” Claus reaches for me.
I sidestep around him. My stomach churning, I back toward the doors just as they burst open. Matt stands in the
frame, his floppy hair falling past his eyebrows, his blue eyes finding mine. He nods. A brief nod that tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am.
“Let’s go,” Matt says, waving me over.
Only Kyle tries to follow me. “Silver, you don’t have to leave. Just wait. They can’t do this. You’ll see.” Sweet Kyle. He places a hand on my bare arm.
Suddenly, agony ripples through my calves, doubling me over, making my breath catch in my throat. The world spins. Dark splotches overtake my vision. Nausea sloshes in my stomach.
Kyle removes his hand. “Silver?”
I snatch a breath. Then another. Energy seems to light my muscles on fire. Panic attack?
Kyle frowns, hands raised, eyebrows shooting up. “Dude, what happened? Are you OK?”
I force a smile onto my lips, massaging the cramp out of my calves. “It wasn’t you. Just a panic attack. I get them sometimes.” Then I turn and flee.
Matt grabs my hand as we dash into the hallway.
“Where are we going?” I hold tight to his hand and let him pull me along. He will have an answer. Matt will know what to do. He always does.
“Away from here,” he says over his shoulder.
Doors fly open all along the hallway. Students spill out of the classrooms, whooping and hollering. We weave through a group of bulks high-fiving over our heads, under a group of fairies with butterfly wings skimming the ceiling, and straight into a student running on the same course.
“Watch it!” the student growls.
I yank on Matt’s hand. “Wait! My cuff. I’m never going to make it through the doors without setting off the alarms.”
Matt elbows my side. “Don’t worry about that.”
The unadjusted kid who growled a warning at us makes a run for the front doors, but a security guard tasers him.
A few seconds later, as we push past a group of band kids with more fingers than necessary, the fire alarms wail and sprinklers rain down on us.
“Did you do that?” I ask, a thrill running through me.
Matt grins at me. “Come on!” He pulls me toward the fire exit.
Together, Matt and I sprint out the emergency doors.
Outside, we run around the school building. Avoiding the main entrance, we make a beeline for the chain-link fence at the end of the football field. A swirl of summer rain clouds scud across the sky. Army drones buzz all over the city’s roofs. Shaped like mosquitos, their elongated noses carry a revolving camera. Thankfully, they’re not pointed in our direction—for now.
“Silver, wait up! You’re running really fast!”
“Isn’t that the point?” I pump my legs harder until I reach the fence.
“I can’t keep up with you.”
I wait at the top of the fence. We clamber over it and drop down to the dirt path below.
“You OK?” Matt tilts his head toward me and nudges my foot with his. “When did you start running so fast?”
I shrug. “Must be those protein drinks. And I’ve been training in the gym with Claus.”
We take off down the street. Around the corner, heading toward the city, all hell breaks loose.
Altereds run down the streets, shouting and whistling at each other. Bulks and ogres in National Guard uniform carry machine guns and march down the busier streets, yelling at anyone in their way. A tank rolls by, its caterpillar wheels crushing trash left in the gutters. A girl with swan wings flies by just over our heads in the no-fly zone. The area is supposed to be for deliveries to the local shops.
Matt jostles from foot to foot. “Shit, Silver. Where do we go?”
I glance at my flashing ankle cuff. I’ll never get more than a mile without the tracking mechanism activating. President Bear and his army of guards will be on me. How the hell did I think I could get away?
A shop window shatters to my right, glass fragments cascading to the floor. One of the marching guards lets off a pop shot. A scream echoes down the street. A whiff of gunpowder snakes toward me. Another bulk soldier pushes an unadjusted to their knees and slams his rifle into the unadjusted’s head. I feel for the wall at my back. Solid and rough, offering no hidden alcoves.
“You go,” I say to Matt. “The guards will be after me.”
He turns his blue eyes on me. The eyes I’ve always been jealous of because they’re the beautiful blue of Caribbean seas, not the silvery grey of a January ocean I was born with. “I’m not leaving you.”
He pushes me around the corner of a street and into an alley. A couple of dumpsters spill their contents into oily puddles. A stray dog limps by on three legs. It also has three eyes.
Matt kneels at my feet and places a hand on my flashing cuff. He fiddles with the buttons, releasing a high-pitched, electronic whine. He scowls. “If only I had something sharp.”
I pull the knife from my sleeve and remove the sheath. “You mean like this?”
Matt whistles. “Exactly. Where did you get a thing like that?”
“Claus.”
Matt tuts approvingly and grabs the knife from my hand, setting to work on my cuff.
A bulk jeep careens by the mouth of the alley, spilling soldiers like lava. My chest tightens and my heart thunders. My feet won’t keep still.
I need to run.
“Hold still, Silver.” Matt pats the back of my twitching leg.
“I’m trying. Can you get it off?”
An announcement blares over a loudspeaker. “All people are to remain inside. Your nanite representative will be with you in due course.”
Soldiers march by, pointing their weapons at fearful faces. “Stay inside! Do not make me use this on you!”
Matt glances up at me, a grimace on his face. “This is going to hurt a bit.”
I swallow. “Hurt? Why does it need to hurt? Haven’t you been working on this stuff in that weapons and robotics class?”
Matt’s lips twitch. “It has an anti-tamper shock dispenser.”
“Anti-tamper…” An electric current zaps my ankle, shooting all the way up to the back of my knee.
“Ouch.” Matt shakes out his hand, then sticks his thumb and forefinger in his mouth. He hands back the knife.
The ankle cuff clatters to the tarmac, its red light flashing manically. Matt stomps on it until the light dims and dies.
“Cell phone?”
I shake my head. “Left it at school.”
He removes his own from his back pocket, chucks it on the ground, and stomps on that too.
I grab Matt’s hand and scan the mouth of the alley. “Let’s put a little distance between us and that cuff.”
We take off again at a fast walk to avoid raising suspicion, keeping to what little shadows the mid-morning sun offers. We stick to the back alleys, climbing over dumpsters and slipping down high walls. Matt’s panting breaths follow me toward the park, which stands between us and my home.
When we skirt into the street, a bulk points at us. He shouts, but a commotion in a shop at his rear draws his attention away. The adrenaline pulsing through me feels exactly the same as a panic attack.
A few minutes later, we reach the park, but soldiers march through the grassy lawns here too. Matt pulls me under the cascading fronds of a weeping willow.
“We need a plan,” I say. “I can’t run all the way to my cousin’s like this.”
Matt dips his head and stares at me through his hair. “Your cousin’s?”
I look at my best friend. All the secrets I’ve kept from him tumble through my mind. “I was going to escape. My second cousin has a hunting lodge upstate. Thought I’d just get there and think about how to get my mom out.” I smooth loose strands of hair away from my face and set my jaw. “But I need to go back for my dad first.”
Matt shakes his head, smiling.
“There is a plan,” he says, tapping the trunk of the willow. “But it doesn’t involve your cousin.”
I look left and right, then step close to him. “A plan for what?”
“For the unadjusteds to
escape the classist rule of the alts.”
I suck in a startled breath. “How?”
“People have been talking about leaving the city for a while now, in case something like this happened.” His eyes dim as he surveys the park through the weeping branches. “We found a cave system where we can hide until we figure out what to do. But with this announcement coming sooner than we thought, everything’s gone to hell. It’s a mess. Megan’s just turned twelve. She can’t be forced to take a nanite.”
I think of Matt’s sister, who’s had a wheelchair since she was three. She was offered a regeneration nanite after the accident, but they’re risky for kids. And now, she wouldn’t swap her chair for anything. “Where is this cave?”
“Through the forest.”
I blow my cheeks out. “Our forest?”
He nods.
“Matt, there are wolves in that forest now. Altered wolves.” My fingers fly to the zipper of my sweatshirt and fiddle with the clasp.
“I know. But we don’t have a choice now.” Matt’s eyes narrow. “You heard what President Bear says. Failure to comply will result in unfortunate circumstances.”
“My mother,” I whisper, the words thick in my throat.
Matt clenches a fist. “Or worse.”
I peer through the branches of the willow. Everything remains quiet. “How do we get there?”
“Enter at the north end. It’s a three-day hike to the ruined village, then another three days directly southeast. You remember how to use a compass?”
“Yes, of course.” It wasn’t that long ago, before the altered wolves turned aggressive, that Matt and I spent a week camping under the stars. Orienteering. Then I realize I’m not the only one who’s been keeping secrets. I poke his chest, then flick his forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Matt grabs my fingers, then picks a leaf off my sweatshirt. “I didn’t want to put you in danger with your mother in prison.”
The spindly willow branches move in a gentle breeze, bringing the scent of the fragrant leaves, but also another hint of gunpowder.
The Unadjusteds Page 2
