The Unadjusteds

by Marisa Noelle

  When I don’t transition, fatigue rolls at me in waves and I’ve never felt so comfortable. So in the moment. So far away from everything.

  “You still carrying around those acorns?” Joe asks.

  I reach a hand into my pocket and pull out half a dozen. Joe takes one from my hand and holds it up to the moon.

  “That’s a beech nut,” I say. “Squirrels go wild for them.”

  Joe hands it back. “As do Silver Melodys.”

  I laugh and put them back in my pocket.

  “What would you choose?” I ask sleepily. “Bird or butterfly?”

  Joe chuckles. “I don’t think butterfly wings would look too good on a bulk.”

  “True,” I say, picturing the ridiculous image. “But what if you weren’t a bulk? If you could be anything you wanted to be, what nanite would you choose?”

  Joe’s brow knits together and he pulls at the cleft in his chin again. “Something non-physical, I think. The bulk didn’t work out for me so good, so I think I’d go for intelligence, or something. I’d want to be able to think myself out of any situation.”

  “I get that.” I lean back against him, stretching my legs out on the trunk.

  “What about you?”

  “I like the wings.” Then I realize they’re gone. I sit up with a start. “How long have they been gone?”

  “A few minutes,” Joe says. “They lasted about an hour.”

  I yawn, not bothering to cover my mouth. “I’m so damned tired, feels like I could sleep for a week.”

  Joe holds out his hand to help me up. “So your energy drains as you use the ability.”

  “It looks that way,” I say, staring at his hand, wondering what will happen if I take it. “I didn’t even feel them disappearing.”

  “I think it’s safe to take my hand.” His voice is gentle as his eyes lock on mine. Even though his heart is protected by armored skin, I think I can hear it beating. “I don’t think you have enough energy to take on another ability right now.”

  Without pausing to weigh it up anymore, I take his hand and pull myself up. Joe smiles down at me. The moon crowns his head, and a surge of electricity flashes across my skin, but I’m still me.

  “This is the first time we’ve been alone since the woods,” Joe says. I can’t quite read his expression, but it feels like my butterfly wings have enfolded in my stomach.

  “It wasn’t that long ago,” I say.

  “True.” Joe tilts his head. “But I miss saving you.”

  I poke a finger into his hard stomach. “I can save myself.”

  “I know that.”

  We stare at each other. Fireflies wink around us and I’m caught in a moment, wishing for things I can’t have.

  Joe dips his head, leaning closer. My eyes close. Memories of our time together in the woods play in my mind. Waking up and finding Joe. Him saving me from the wolves. The posy of flowers.

  My lips part, but then I step away. “I think that might be pushing it a little too much.”

  We walk back to the cave in silence. Joe keeps looking at me and I keep my eyes on my feet, pretending I need to watch the ground to see where I’m going. It’s a flimsy excuse when there’s a full moon out. He was going to kiss me. Why didn’t I let him?

  All I want to do is head to my hollow and sleep for a million hours, but I need to say something to Joe. I need to make this better. Before I have the chance, Matt appears halfway down the passageway and hands me back my repaired knife.

  “Francesca is calling a meeting first thing in the morning.”

  I perk up a bit. “Is she declaring a rescue mission?”

  “Not sure. I think she wants to try and make things a little more organized around here,” Matt replies. His gaze flicks between Joe and me, then to our adjoining hollows. “Where have you two been?”

  Joe ducks his head and creeps along the passage until he can stand without stooping. “We went to test Silver’s abilities.”

  Matt’s eyebrows rise and Einstein comes woofing down the passage. “And?”

  “Seems I can only hold an ability for an hour, but it’s exhausting. I need to rest. Neither of my wings are as powerful as Paige’s or Erica’s either. I need to test the speed against Kyle.”

  Matt looks at Joe, a look that says he wants to be alone with me, but Joe doesn’t budge.

  Matt leans closer. “That’s great, Silver. How are you about it all?”

  I step into my hollow and turn to face him. “Honestly? I don’t know yet. I just want to sleep.”

  Matt stays there a minute longer, then wishes me goodnight and retreats down the passageway. I snuggle into my sleeping bag and close my eyes. Sleep is only seconds away when Joe’s voice comes from his adjoining hollow.

  “Silver?”

  “Yeah?” I murmur.

  “I wanted to ask you about earlier, in the meadow…” I can’t see his face, but I sense something in his tone. He’s actually whispering for once. “Do you think…?”

  “Joe?” I roll over onto my side. “Let’s talk in the morning.”

  There’s a long pause, then he says, “OK. G’night, Silver.”

  After breakfast the following morning, Francesca stands in the middle of the chamber, eyes scanning the crowd as she gestures for quiet.

  “As there are so many of us here now, and thanks to a select group of people, we now have enough food to feed you all for a little while.” A resounding cheer ripples around the room. “I thought it was time the situation was addressed. You all have many questions. Although I may not hold all the answers, I’m willing to step up and help, if you’ll have me.”

  Murmurs of agreement ebb around the stalagmites, and a generous round of applause reveals support for Francesca.

  Francesca smiles and flicks her graying bangs from her forehead. “We’ve all come here to escape the tyranny of an imposed nanite induction, and many of us were unhappy with the government long before that. I should know; I used to work for President Bear.”

  A collective gasp follows her words.

  “I was a volunteer on his Senate campaign trail, before I knew his position on the nanites. As a result, I feel I am in a unique position to understand his motivations and how he might be defeated.”

  “War!” someone yells.

  Francesca smiles patiently and presses her fingertips together. “We won’t win a war. Now that the unadjusteds are held in compounds, the superbeings have become controlled and organized.”

  “What, then?” someone else calls.

  Matt brushes his shoulder against mine, and his blue eyes glimmer.

  “It is my belief that the key to defeating President Bear lies with Drs. Melody, but both esteemed doctors are in captivity.” Francesca pauses. “I believe we can get them back, but we need to utilize the gifts of the people here to make that happen. There are a few people with talents among us. If they’re willing, I think we might gain an advantage.”

  A thunderous applause rips through the room, and most of the eyes settle on my friends. We have two bulks, an arrow-wielding fairy, a speedster, a girl with beautiful blue wings, my best friend—a bomb-building expert, someone with telekinesis, and me.

  But no one knows about me.

  As the whispers die down and the crowds disperse, Francesca approaches our motley crew. She thanks each of us personally, holding our gazes with warm, fiery eyes and making sure she touches each of us; a gentle tap or a handshake or a squeeze on the shoulder. With each serious look, she gives us jobs. Paige and Kyle are in charge of supply runs. Erica will be the liaison to new altereds arriving. Everyone already knows Matt is working on a perimeter surveillance system for outside the cave and adding more lighting inside. Joe and Hal are tasked with assessing people’s strengths in combat.

  “Silver.” Francesca turns to me. “How good are your karate skills? Do you think you could take down an adjusted?”

  I grip the knife in my belt. “I put Jacob down yesterday.” I don’t mention it was becaus
e I used Kyle’s speed.

  “OK, I need you to keep training,” she says, her eyes going to my repaired knife. I hope to hell my wings don’t suddenly pop out.

  “I’ll do whatever I have to do,” I say, wincing at the idea of being a bulk. It’s an obvious ability to add to my list, but the thought of being eight feet tall with muscles that will deform my body—I don’t want to be seen like that by Joe. By Matt. By anyone.

  Claus limps over, looks us all up and down, and bows. “If you’re not busy, let’s get started on the assault course.”

  When the others head outside, I don’t follow. I saw the training ground last night, and I’m afraid my wings might emerge when everyone is there. I’m not ready for that.

  Instead I walk the passageways. I pick up a lantern and edge past my hollow. My backpack, my cozy sleeping bag and a couple of photographs are all that make the area mine, but it feels more like home than the penthouse apartment did. When my parents were at the top of their careers, the nanites such a success, President Bear bent over backwards to bequest them every tiny luxury. From gym equipment to weekly massages and all the latest technological gadgets, the apartment was obscene in its wealth.

  Until my mother was taken away. Then it all stopped.

  With my thoughts in the past, I walk until I find myself in the weapons chamber. Joe and Matt have lined up all the weapons we requisitioned from the troop of trolls and catalogued anything else others brought with them on their journey here. A wallpaper table stands in the corner with bits of clipped wires and some kind of powder dirtying the surface. Matt and his bombs. A constant drip plops toward the back of the chamber, a bead of moisture finding its way to the cave floor.

  I’m about to leave when a moving shadow catches my eye. Coming toward me with a light attached to her wheelchair is Megan, Matt’s youngest sister. Wearing a Disney T-shirt and Crocs, she inches closer with a tentative smile.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Trying to decide what weapon I want to train with.” She raises her lantern to meet mine, and the pool of light stretches into the darker shadows.

  “How old are you?” I hold the lantern closer to her face.

  She sticks out her chest and pushes her blonde hair away from her shoulders. “Twelve.”

  It was just agreed that the cutoff was twelve, but now I’m wondering if that’s too young. I look at her Disney T-shirt, stained with dirt and splashed with food, and her wheels, which are caked in dried clay. “I’m worried about you.”

  Megan rolls her eyes. “I may be in a chair, but I still need to learn how to defend myself in case something happens to my family. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something I’m good at and I can help rescue Lyla.”

  I’m tempted to hug her, but I know she’s far too feisty for that. “Maybe you can.”

  Smiling, she peels toward the entrance. “Maybe I’ll try a knife, like you.” Then she disappears.

  Crossing the threshold, I notice another faint light from farther down the passageway. I tiptoe over the uneven ground and stick my head around a new archway.

  Joe sits in a plastic chair not built for his size, the back of it buckling under his weight. He leans his elbows on another collapsible table and shifts through scraps of paper.

  “Thought you’d be with Claus at the training ground,” I say, stepping into the room. The smell of damp clay is stronger in here and I spot a ribbon of water along the back wall. A small puddle forms below it, flowing into a crevice.

  Joe looks up and smiles. “Francesca asked me to look over the cave population’s capabilities. We’ve had so many new people arrive in the last twenty-four hours. Erica and Claus have tested a few in the weapons room, and I’m making a chart of their strengths and weaknesses, trying to put people into balanced teams. Why aren’t you there?”

  I shrug.

  “Not ready?” He looks at me as if one of my wings might pop out.

  I lean in the archway. “Nope.”

  Joe pats a chair beside him. “Why don’t you help me for a bit?” He shifts, causing it to creak in protest.

  I take a seat next to Joe, and we examine the lists of names and abilities.

  “Jacob showed up earlier. He’s got more talents than karate and speed,” Joe says. “He can teleport. Not huge distances, but enough to get out of a spot of trouble, or put someone in one.”

  “Can we trust him?” I’m thinking of how much money I’m worth if President Bear discovers my abilities.

  Joe nods. “He’s pretty motivated to find his mom. After he fell out of the competition circuit, I’d say he’s a full convert.”

  I tuck my legs up into the chair and wrap my arms around them. “I never realized the altereds had it so bad. I always thought everything just came so easily to you guys.”

  Joe’s eyes fix on me over the light of our lanterns. “Does it feel easy to you? With the wings?”

  I think of how hard it is to control my wings. The speed isn’t so bad, as it doesn’t involve a physical change, but for those who’ve taken a multitude of pills? Control would definitely be an issue.

  “No,” I say.

  Joe slouches back in his chair and laces his hands together behind his neck. “There are bulk training weekends after you take the nanite to get used to your new body and strength. The bulk change is complicated. I couldn’t have done it without that training. It’s one of the reasons that pill is so expensive and a class ten. You have to fly off to one of the training facilities.”

  “They teach you how to be all big and powerful and immortal?”

  Joe chuckles. “Well, you gotta have a little natural talent too.” He blows on his fingers and wipes them on his shoulder in a parody of modesty. “But seriously. It’s nice to feel capable and be able to protect people. If I can give people reassurance and protection, that’s enough for me.”

  “You were pretty strong to start with, weren’t you?” I shift in my chair so one leg is underneath me. My other boot digs into the clay ground.

  “Yeah.” Joe’s head bobs from side to side, considering. “I managed to avoid the nanite for a while, but I had to take it eventually or I would have been crushed on the field.”

  I look at the eight-foot bulk sitting beside me, but he’s so much more than the muscle and armored skin. So much more than a handsome face. For the first time I notice a small scar above his right eyebrow and I almost reach out to touch it.

  A blush rises to my cheeks.

  “It wasn’t really something I wanted for myself.” Joe shuffles some paperwork out of his way. “But when every player on the field towers above you by at least two feet and you start to cringe every time there’s a huddle or a tackle, you either join them or get out.”

  “I get that.” I rest my hand on the table. Our fingertips are so close. Just a hair’s breadth apart. I could close the gap, see what his skin feels like on mine, but it might also kickstart a new change. A change I’m not ready for.

  I pick up some of the papers, not really reading them. “Joe? Last night you were about to ask me something.”

  Even though I’m not looking at him, I can feel his eyes on me.

  Footsteps sound down the passageway. Moments later, Matt sticks his head into the room.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Joe says too quickly.

  I glance at Joe, but he’s staring down at his hands. I turn to Matt instead. “How’s the surveillance stuff going?”

  Matt comes in and leans against the wall. “I’ve been tinkering with the radio, trying to get a location on the army frequency.”

  “And?” Joe asks.

  “There’s news about the compounds.”

  I brace myself. All three of us have people we love stuck in compounds and prisons.

  Matt pulls out another plastic chair and slumps into it. “The unadjusteds in the compounds are being harvested for their DNA.”

  “What?” Joe sits up a little straighter, eyes wide.

  “Blood samples are being
taken from them every day.” Matt mimes a needle pulling out blood. “They think the reason they lost their sanity when the unadjusteds ran is hidden somewhere in our genes.”

  “They’ll need to have a genetic scientist on board for that,” I say. “It’s probably Earl.” The last time I saw him in the lab, he was only too keen to bow to Bear’s every request.

  “It seems they’re being treated reasonably, given food and water, but I don’t know what their ultimate plans are.” Matt’s hands fist at his side. “I really want to get them out. All of them.”

  “We will,” I say, leaning across the table. “As soon as we know where they are.”

  Matt nods. “It should just be a matter of time. All the hideouts have scouts going out to their nearest compounds, trying to gain intel. Hopefully it won’t be too long until we know.”

  Later that day, I climb the ridge, giving the training ground a wide berth. I catch sight of people scaling walls of hay and dodging swinging effigies, but I’m not interested in that. I walk farther into the woods, where I can still hear the activity in the meadow, but where I’m alone enough that I know no eyes will be watching me.

  This time, I choose butterfly wings. With the merest of wishes, the wings erupt from my back. The sensation of unfolding is actually quite pleasant. I examine the wings. White and almost translucent, they appear thinner than Erica’s and three-quarters the size. I beat them harder and lift into the air. It takes more effort than the bird wings and I feel the tension in my cheeks as I grit my teeth. I suspect it’s easier for Erica. She always makes it look so effortless when she’s in the air.

  I fly higher, staying close to thick branches in case I fall. When I reach the top of an oak, I stick my head above the canopy. All I can see is green for miles. A loud hum sounds in my ears and too late, I realize I’m right on top of a bee’s nest.

  I let out a shriek as I get stung three times on my hand. I lose air and drop a few feet. Scrapping my arm along the trunk, I beat the wings harder and concentrate on not falling to the ground. When I reach the canopy again, I head for a new tree, find a thick branch and sit. I lick the stings, which takes some of the pain out of it.