The Unadjusteds

by Marisa Noelle

  Once I’ve got my breath back, I prepare to fly to the ground. I’d rather use the bird wings as they feel stronger and safer, but there isn’t room in the tightly-packed trees, so I stick with the smaller butterfly wings. They rustle as I beat them, but there are no mishaps and I land gently on the ground.

  I scream when Kyle suddenly appears before me.

  “What the hell?” I say, stumbling back.

  He holds his hands up. “Was just going for a run.”

  “You scared the crap out of me!”

  “Sorry, dude.” He leans against a tree and watches my wings flutter. “You telling people now?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet. I want to get used to them first, and as you’re here, I want to test a theory.”

  We mark out a track in the woods. I push the wings into my back and think of running fast. When my calf muscles twitch, I know the speed ability has risen. Two minutes later, when I complete the track, Kyle is already there. He grins and performs a little celebratory jig. I roll my eyes at him.

  “I think that proves it,” I say.

  “Proves what?” Kyle asks, still shuffling his feet around and pointing both index fingers at the sky.

  I flop to the ground. “That whatever ability I take on, it’s not as powerful as the person I take it from.”

  “That sucks, dude.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” I say as the exhaustion swims over me. “I’m going to head back to the cave.”

  Kyle walks to the tree-line with me, chattering away. I can barely concentrate on his words and my feet are almost too leaden to move. I leave him at the training ground, promising Claus I’ll be there tomorrow, and stumble over the ridge and down the valley, going down twice. The stings on my hand start to throb again and when I reach the entrance to the cave, I fall to both knees.

  Matt catches me before I nose-dive to the limestone. “You OK?”

  I lean into him. “Been testing the abilities. They drain me.”

  He helps me to my feet and wraps an arm around me for support. “Let’s get you inside.”

  He steers me through the main chamber, where Sawyer prepares dinner, throwing food in the air with his telekinesis. He doesn’t even need oven gloves when he moves dough in and out of the chimneys.

  A few minutes later we arrive at my hollow. I collapse on my sleeping bag. Matt kneels beside me and tugs off my boots. The intruding sound of a zipper cuts into my dreamy thoughts as Matt opens the sleeping bag, lifts my legs inside, and zips me up again.

  “Don’t go,” I whisper.

  Matt curls around me and his hands settle in my hair. We fall asleep like that, Matt’s arm draped over my waist and his loose curls falling over his face.

  The next morning, I avoid the training ground again. I plan to get to grips with the wings, and the only person who can make sure I don’t fall out of the sky from a great height is Paige.

  Matt and I walk to breakfast together. Sawyer is in the kitchen, a pack of smokes creeping out of his pocket. He fries a bunch of eggs and his face is covered in flour. I guess telekinesis doesn’t stop you getting messy in the kitchen. “We’ve definitely got a food problem,” Matt says, approaching Sawyer’s area.

  Sawyer looks up and grimaces. “I catalogued everything you brought back. Half of it’s missing.”

  My stomach rumbles at the thought of going without food. “Half?”

  Matt chucks a glance over his shoulder. “A whole sack of flour and a few packets of pasta. One of the bottles of whiskey, too. Hal is pissed about that.”

  I perch against the ledge where Sawyer flips eggs. “And we don’t know who?”

  Sawyer shakes his head, making his curls bounce.

  “Keep your eyes open.” Matt’s lips twist to the side as he drums his fingers on the ledge beside me.

  “I will.”

  We leave Sawyer in the kitchen and follow the passage outside. As we trudge up the side of the valley, I collect acorns and shove them in my already bursting pockets. Matt rolls his eyes and digs his hand into my pocket, pulling out about twenty of them.

  “You’ll never fly with your pockets so full,” he teases.

  “Ha ha.” I tug the front of his shirt and snatch my acorns back.

  The feel of the sun on my shoulders eases the tension there. Looking up and down the valley, I can almost believe we’re on one of our camping trips.

  “Are we safe out here?”

  Matt drops to his feet to retie one of his laces. “I’ve managed to find the army frequency. They’re not in the area. “

  We hike for twenty minutes along the ridge, through the woods and into training ground. Then Matt leaves to work on his perimeter alarm. Apparently a couple of guys with a bit of tech equipment have arrived from another hideout to help.

  Bluebells, knotweed and red clover grow in patches between the trees, filling the air with sweetness. The breezeless day magnifies the sounds of chirping insects and twittering birds. In the daylight I can see the obstacles better. Joe and Claus have set up targets attached to hay bales, straw-stuffed dummies swinging from trees, an obstacle course of tires to run through, and a wall of stacked hay bales to climb over. Internally, I groan, remembering the very worst of circuit training Claus put me through one year.

  Joe greets me and talks me through the course. But when I tell him about my plans, he agrees to square it with Claus. Erica flutters above people’s heads, her wing mostly healed and shimmering a pale color that matches her hair. Until she sees me. Then they transform to the now familiar icy blue.

  I thought we were over all that.

  A feather drifts by my face. A moment later Paige flies down to stand next to me.

  “There’s Jacob,” Paige whispers, pointing to the boy we found in the warehouse. He leaps over the wall of hay bales, barely disturbing a single piece of straw. “He’s amazing to watch.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He’s a mighty fine specimen.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  “I’m not sure I could get past those reptilian eyes.” I circle two acorns in my palm, round and round, their hard shells clunking softly against one another.

  One of Paige’s wings flutters high. “That’s one of the things I like most. They’re… disarming.” Paige sighs her appreciation. “He’s so damned shy. Hasn’t said a word since he arrived.”

  I watch the group start with the tires. Behind Jacob is Sawyer, who’s shifting his feet nervously. Leaves and small twigs float around his head. Behind him, a handful of other unadjusteds stand, warily sizing up the obstacles. Paige and I watch them from the shade of the trees. Two stumble at the tires, while three struggle with the wall.

  “Paige?” I back into the bushes when Claus looks my way.

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want to do the assault course today.”

  She groans. “Neither do I.”

  “I need to test my wings. In private. Will you help me?”

  She backs into the bush with me, her green wings an excellent camouflage, a conspiratorial smile on her face.

  “I’m not sure I’m entirely in control of the wings yet,” I say as they rise from my shoulders without asking. It seems controlling my abilities will take a little more effort than just an afternoon in the woods. “See what I mean?”

  “You can do it,” Paige says. “Just like the warehouse.”

  I sigh. “I tried practicing and ended up with a bunch of bee stings.”

  “Come on.” Paige takes my hand and lifts herself into the air, tugging at my arm. A pair of binoculars dangles from her neck. “I’ll fly with you.”

  I kiss the pendant at my collarbone, wishing Matt was here to give me some of the confidence he exudes so easily. A shaky feeling flashes through my limbs, so I take a deep breath and try to stay in the moment. I picture a bird rising in the sky.

  I press the timer on my watch. My wings lift and my feet leave the ground. I make them flutter, enjoying the way the feathers move. My chest inflates, fi
lling with air like a helium balloon. The urge to rise is undeniable. My aqua wings flap faster, tunneling a breeze through the meadow.

  “Follow me,” Paige says.

  She flies up, higher and higher, beckoning me to come. Clearing my mind of negative thoughts, I follow, pretending I’m still a young child who believes in immortality. In never getting hurt.

  I circle higher, looking down at the valley. Everything looks so small. The broccoli-like trees and the felt-like grass are more appropriate on a miniature train enthusiast’s board. The training ground is no bigger than a trampoline, the obstacle course like a playset.

  When I fly higher, a moment of vertigo consumes me and I panic. I perform a haphazard and accidental loop-de-loop while I regain my balance, spread my wings wide and ascend toward the sun. Cold air rushes over my cheeks.

  Paige and I glide over the forest. Our wing tips touch, mine blending with the sky, hers merging with the trees below. We turn toward the coast but stop short when we see an army of trolls gathering on the beach. We fly higher and farther, farther and higher. It’s exhilarating. I feel free.

  Although my wing span isn’t as wide as Paige’s, my wings beat powerfully and I can keep up with her.

  “See if you can fly with speed,” Paige says.

  I grin, accepting the challenge. I spend a few minutes in the lead, using the speed ability, leaving Paige in my dust. But my aim reduces dramatically and I crash into a bird, windmilling my arms in the air to halt my speed. A wave of nausea rolls through my stomach, like I’ve just been on a million rollercoasters. The bird, a seagull, drops for a moment, dazed, then flies off again, giving me a scornful look.

  Maybe speed and wings aren’t such a good combination.

  Clutching my stomach, a leaden feeling settles in my limbs and wings. Paige is a small dot coming toward me. The beach is to my right, the forest to my left. A few feathers separate from my wings and I drop ten feet, like a plane hit by lightning.

  I scream.

  Another twenty feet. My wings shrink. Within moments they’ll be gone. I glance at my watch, seeing I have fifteen minutes until the hour is up, but I used the speed ability at the same time. Perhaps that has drained me even more.

  My wings continue to shrink. I can barely lift my arms. Paige closes in on me and stretches out her hand, but she’s still too far away. I plummet.

  With my wings only stretching a four-foot span, I beat them furiously, trying to slow my descent. I snag my arm on a tree branch, scrapping the soft flesh under my arm. The wings shrink again and I fall backwards. I slam into the sand, the air knocked out of me.

  Paige lands a moment later. I sit up and cough, trying to steal a breath. Paige dabs at my bleeding scrapes with one of her feathers.

  “That was close,” she says.

  “Too close,” I say, shaking the sand off me. “Now I have no idea how to get back. We’re miles away from the cave.”

  Paige covers my shoulders with one of her wings. “So we’ll rest here a while, until you get your energy back.”

  “I don’t know how long that’s going to take.”

  “It will take as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Besides, now we have the opportunity to talk about Jacob again.”

  I laugh. “He seems nice.”

  Paige clutches her hands to her chest and a dreamy look passes over her face. “He is. Too nice, maybe, but that’s not going to stop me.”

  “You know it takes two, right?”

  She winks. “Oh, I know, and I’m pretty sure he likes me too. He touched my arm the other day.”

  “He touched your arm?!” I exclaim in mock horror, but then I sober, thinking how I wish Joe would touch my arm. He could, if I let him. If I could face being a bulk.

  Paige throws an acorn at me and I put it in my pocket. I elbow her ribs. “Did you have a boyfriend before?”

  She flops back against the sand and closes her eyes. “No. There wasn’t really the opportunity.”

  I pick up a handful of sand and mold it into a small hill. Foaming waves roll toward us, pushed by an angry ocean. Deserted. No boats. No swimmers. Rocks line the edges of the beach and rise to craggy cliffs. The aroma of salt blows in from the water. A gentle sun presses its caressing fingers into my tired shoulders.

  “Thanks for coming with me, Paige.” I glance at my watch. “I’ll need to know how long I have to rest before I can use the abilities again.”

  Paige rises to her feet. “In the meantime, I think we should get off the beach. That troll army we saw isn’t too far from here.”

  Even though my legs are quivering, I push myself up and follow Paige. We scrabble up the rocks until we reach the more secluded cliff top. Able to hide in the foliage, we make a little den for ourselves and watch the beach from a distance. An offshore wind sweeps my hair in all directions and loosens a few of Paige’s feathers. She trains a pair of binoculars on the horizon. We sit in silence as the sun arcs across the sky. I think I fall asleep for a bit.

  The gentle thunder of the crashing surf reaches my ears, makes me wonder what it’d be like to have gills like many altereds opted for, to swim away and discover underwater worlds. The second underwater hotel has just been completed off the coast of Los Angeles, and an underwater city has been underway for the last ten years.

  “Why wings?” I ask eventually, plucking at the grass.

  Paige lets the binoculars fall and picks up one of her loose feathers from the ground, staring at her hands as she runs it between her fingers. Twin white spots appear on her cheeks as her lips tighten.

  When she speaks, her words are barely more than a hissing whisper. “So I could get away.”

  “Get away from what? The altereds?” I stick the blade of grass between my lips, producing a plaintive whistle.

  “I guess.” Paige’s wings rise, arcing over her head before she brings them down and folds them around her body like a billowing magician’s cloak. “But more my parents. They didn’t even know I existed.” She presses a finger to the moisture in the corner of her eye.

  “I… shit… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” I search my pockets for a tissue, knowing I won’t find one, but it’s something to do. The acorns tumble out.

  Paige’s shoulders hunch. “It’s OK. It’s not a unique story.”

  “But it’s your story.” I cover her hand with mine.

  “Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “It started with Dad’s cancer. It’s easy enough to get the nanite to cure it, but afterwards he was strutting around the house, claiming he felt so vital again.”

  I glance at Paige. “That’s good, right?”

  Paige tilts her head, her gaze still on the horizon. “For a while. He started going to the gym more, then he bought cheaper nanites. You know, white teeth, a permanent tan, even one to speed up his metabolism and rid his excess body fat. My college tuition money dwindled.”

  “Oh.” Cautiously, I ask, “What happened next?”

  “He stopped noticing me. When he looked in a mirror, he couldn’t see beyond his own reflection. Then he started in on the physical stuff, like the necklace implant that flashes in time with your heartbeat.”

  “I know the one.” It’s one of the first nanites people often buy. The natural implanted accessories are cheaper and less harmful than some of the more powerful nanites. So many of them have the chokers that wind round their necks in natural skin modifications. Some sync with your heartbeat, others match the color of your eyes. My science teacher sports natural skin ruffles around his neck like an old frilly collar from the Victorian era.

  “Then my mother joined him,” Paige continues. “You know the old adage: ‘If you can’t fight ‘em, join ‘em.’ She was vain to begin with, being an ex-fashion model. She started with the blue shoulder horns and feline eye shape, but when she got a beak for a mouth and Dad grew antlers, I’d had enough.” She wraps her arms around her waist. “They went on vacations with rich friends and left me at home
for weeks at a time, and they used up the rest of my tuition money. And then some.”

  I lean my shoulder against hers and pick up the acorns. I squeeze them in my hand, crushing one by accident. “That’s awful, Paige.”

  A shadow falls over her face and wings, darkening the green into the depthless color of pine needles. “So I decided to take a pill. It was a foolish, impulsive decision. I thought if I had an ability, they might notice me.”

  “Wings would be a good choice for that.”

  “Ha! I didn’t choose the wings, they chose me.” Paige flaps her wings and we both look at the green feathers. “I emptied my bank account, which was only a couple hundred dollars, and spent some time hanging out in back alleys until I found the black market trade.”

  “Eeesh.”

  “I know. It was dangerous.” Paige takes one of my acorns and throws it over the cliff.

  For those who can’t afford the more complicated nanites, or the more showy ones, people turn to the black markets, where it’s pot luck and you never know which ability you might get. I knew of a girl who ended up with hedgehog spikes and impaled herself on the way home.

  “The guy who sold it to me had been at my high school. I remembered him. Somehow it made it seem safer.” Paige inhales, sucking her cheeks in. “I went to the park that night, swallowed it down, and huddled in a corner, waiting for the change.”

  I touch her wing. “I can’t believe you went through that alone.”

  She holds her palms skyward. “Then the wings appeared. My parents didn’t even notice. I have a twelve-foot wingspan and they. Didn’t. Even. Notice.” Her emerald eyes sparkle with pain. “I decided it was the best possible choice for me. I could literally fly away from my problems. So I did.”

  “And you came here.”

  Paige nods.

  I bump my shoulder against hers. “I think you’re really brave.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not brave. It was foolish, taking a nanite to make someone love you.”