The Unadjusteds

by Marisa Noelle

  I gain all the characteristics of the adjusteds with physical attributes: one boy with the teeth of a shark–not a transition I want to repeat, as it felt like my jaw was being torn apart with a car jack; the jumping ability of a flea–I find this weird until Matt informs me a flea can jump one hundred times its own body size. One man loans me the characteristic of webbed feet, borrowed from ducks, and the flippers of a seal. There are countless others, some of which I can’t understand the point of, including an elderly lady who shows me how to change my skin into the armor of an armadillo.

  Once I’ve acquired and adjusted to all these characteristics, I move on to the less physical ones. There’s more intelligence and Sawyer’s telekinetic talent, but I refuse the werewolf ability.

  It’s exhausting. I sleep between trials and make a dent in the food supply. The changes increase my metabolic rate and I’m constantly hungry.

  “It’s time to go,” Matt says when he finds me in my hollow. He holds a crumpled piece of paper. Einstein wanders in with him and wags his tail at me.

  “Francesca’s worried more soldiers will come scouting after the bar explosion,” Matt says. “And as you’ve taken on all the abilities here, it’s time for that rescue mission.”

  The back of my neck prickles, but the thought of getting my parents back drowns out the anxiety. “Finally.”

  “Here are the people she wants to come.” He hands me the piece of paper.

  Joe Rucker (Bulk)

  Hal Small (Bulk)

  Matt Lawson (Weapons, technology)

  Addison Shields (Strength)

  Paige Starling (Flight)

  Sawyer Watson (Telekinesis)

  Kyle Lewis (Speed)

  Jacob Shea (Teleportation)

  Erica Swiftfield (Flight)

  Silver Melody (Ultimate weapon)

  There are ten of us. Ten people to rescue my parents, Matt’s sister, and as many of the other unadjusteds in the compound as we can. The weight of responsibility settles into the sore nooks of my shoulders. Seeing the words ‘ultimate weapon’ next to my name sends a shiver of fear down my spine.

  Ultimate weapon. Me. The very thing I didn’t want to be is the very thing I now am, but the cause is bigger than me. I see that now. I was naïve to rebel against nanites and abilities like they’re all as bad as each other. As the ultimate weapon, I can help. I can save my parents, but it doesn’t mean I’m not terrified.

  “I can’t wait to see Lyla again.” Matt’s eyes glisten.

  I squeeze his hand. “I know.”

  I crouch on the floor and open the small pouch on my rucksack. I sort through the bottles of temporary nanites Dad and I used when we fled through the woods. That feels like such a long time ago now. Not just a few weeks. There is a good handful of night-vision and strength, at least two per person. I give them to Matt, who shoves them in his pocket.

  Claus has the regeneration pills. Maybe he’ll let me bring one in case someone gets injured. When I open the invisibility bottle, I count only five. Not enough for all of us, and they only last half an hour, but they’re worth taking. We can decide who will use them when we’re a bit further along. Not seeing the need for the predator-masking scents, I leave them behind. With two bulks in our team and no security swipes to let ourselves into the compound, the mission won’t be reliant on stealth. It will take surprise and brute force.

  “Let’s go find the others,” Matt says.

  “OK,” Paige says. “It’s time to saddle up.”

  “It’s kick-ass time!” Kyle punches the air and shuffles his feet so fast all I can see is a blur.

  “Francesca’s put me in charge of packing the food.” Sawyer rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think I actually had to come with you. I’m not…” His lips twist into a grimace. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  I touch his arm. “You’ve been training with Claus, right?”

  “Yeah, but before two weeks ago I’d never even held a weapon. I can’t…” His gaze shifts to the floor.

  My voice is firm. “Sawyer, we need you. You can do this. We’re a team. We’ll protect each other.”

  He shuts his mouth. His ashen skin looks ghostly in the pale lighting of the occasional lantern.

  I move my hand to his shoulder. “You’re going to be OK.”

  His voice turns squeaky. “Promise?”

  I can’t say the word. As much as I want it to be true, I won’t lie about something I’m not sure of. He’s right to be afraid. I’ve been so focused on rescuing my parents, I haven’t really stopped to examine the consequences. But right now, looking at Sawyer blanch at my every word, flickers of panic ignite in my limbs and my breathing turns shallow.

  I can’t show him how afraid I suddenly am. There’s no room for fear.

  Sawyer gulps. I force out a laugh, ruffle his blond curls and tell him he won’t even have time to be scared, hoping it’s true. But being brave is acting in the face of fear, even when it grips so strongly you can’t hear anything except your own rushing pulse.

  The mission is imminent. It’s actually happening. Soon, I’ll see my parents again. The team gathers in the main chamber, where Francesca imparts a few final words. A thick round of applause thunders through the chamber as the mission team spills down the passageway. When we throw open the door, the day outside is calm, and we charge into the sunshine. I blink against the sun, wishing I’d thought to bring a pair of sunglasses.

  “Everyone’s relying on me,” I say to Matt as we climb the ridge. The panic I felt when I was talking to Sawyer ratchets up a notch. I try to push it down, but it clutches at the back of my knees and makes my mouth turn sour.

  “Silver, we’re a team.” Matt takes my hand, his eyes more vibrant than usual. “And anyhow, I’m the useless one.”

  “You aren’t useless. You got hold of a gun and gave us cover. I didn’t know you could shoot, by the way,” I say.

  Matt weaves through a dense area of foliage, following Joe’s machete hacks. “I had to do something while you were chained up in that apartment building of yours. Lost myself to a few video games.”

  “Now I really wish I’d asked for one for Christmas when things were still good. Do they have a game where you have to shoot President Bear?”

  Matt snaps out a laugh. “No. They don’t. But there is one where you have to hunt down unadjusteds. You know that whole ‘blindfold them and stick them in the middle of nowhere’ scenario, then hunt them down.”

  “Jesus.” I gawk at him. “No wonder things got so bad.”

  Matt sets his jaw and wags a finger. “Not anymore. Now we get to make a stand.”

  “Damn straight.” I reach out for a high-five.

  Ahead, Erica, Addison and Paige sing my freedom song, and the melody filters back to me. The whole cave knows it now and it’s often sung after dinner, when I pull out a guitar and strum the melody. Once Francesca had to put an end to it, such was the passion in people’s hearts adding a little too much volume to their throats.

  Young, like a new star shining

  Bold, like a lone wolf stalking

  Lost, like a child wandering

  Scared, like the whole world’s falling

  But I am free. And I won’t back down.

  “See?” Matt says, indicating the others singing. “You’re not letting anyone down. You’ve given them hope to hold on to.”

  I sigh. “These abilities have limitations.”

  “It’s not you against the world.” He matches my pace and brushes his elbow against my arm. “It’s all of us, too.”

  “Thanks, Matt.” I watch my feet kick through leaves and acorns, hoping he’s right.

  But his words do little to ease my tension. Soon, I’ll find my parents, and they’ll give me back my unadjusted state. Once it’s all over, that’s my wish: to be normal again. Myself. Whatever that is now. But if they made the change in vitro, is there anything to revert to? Am I stuck like this forever? Although my attitude has changed since being at the cave,
meeting Joe and the other adjusteds, who aren’t really alts at all, I still can’t quite reconcile myself as one of their group.

  Until I think about flying. The wings are my favorite ability. To soar so high, away from everything else. Paige is right: it’s so easy to fly away from your problems, across an ocean to a deserted island where no one has ever heard of a nanite. The wings don’t feel abnormal. They feel like the most natural thing in the world, that perhaps in another million years might be part of a human’s normal evolution. Our longing to be in the sky, in space, to discover the boundaries of our universe is so much easier with a pair of wings. Although they aren’t spaceproof yet because the feathers freeze, unaided space exploration isn’t that far away. And none of that will be possible when the nanites stop.

  Sure, we can still use them to cure diseases, to help kids with learning difficulties, soldiers with missing limbs, birth defects. The list of therapeutic purposes goes on. But where do you draw the line? There isn’t anything oppressive about owning a pair of wings, but that’s where some of the problems started. Those in gymnastics and cheerleading who produced wings always perform better, and it leaks into every sport and every profession possible. However, the thought of giving them up sends a slither of unease through my stomach. Am I becoming so attached to them already?

  Scattered sunlight filters through the branches over our heads. Joe and Hal continue to lead, Erica fluttering close behind, Kyle and Sawyer behind them. Addison, her wounds now healed, walks with Jacob and Paige. The undergrowth thickens, slowing our pace until Hal pulls out another machete and joins Joe hacking at the ferns tangling our feet. Heat shimmers and mirages make me crave water. We slap at mosquitoes and blot sweat from our brows.

  When the air carries the scent of salt toward us, Paige leads the way to the thicket of bayberry bushes we hid in before. Matt and Joe remind us of the plan, causing Sawyer to audibly gulp.

  I shake out two of the invisibility pills into my palm and hand them to Matt and Sawyer. On a count of three, they swallow them and disappear in less than a minute. Only by the rustling of the bayberry bushes can I mark their progress. Then they’re on open land and it’s impossible to tell where they are until they reach a dirt track. They leave faint shoe impressions all the way up to the corner of the fenced courtyard.

  The razor wire fence judders, then nothing for a full minute.

  “When do we go?” Paige asks.

  A siren tears through the silence.

  “I say now.” I jump to my feet.

  We charge down the slope toward the courtyard. Guards swivel toward us and raise their guns. Joe and Hal lead the way, shielding us. I’m tempted to turn bulk myself, but I know I only have an hour’s worth of ability to use. I need to save it for a more crucial moment, and the guards aren’t getting a good aim at us through the chain-link.

  When we approach the razor-wire outer fence, half of us tumble through a small hole. Wire flaps in a breeze, then flies in the opposite direction. Sawyer must still be there, holding the loose strands away from us.

  Then we’re at the chain-link fence surrounding the courtyard. A hole appears in front of us as we dash toward it. Matt and Sawyer. Joe stabs a troll with his machete as soon as he reaches the other side. A crowd of unadjusteds presses toward us when they see the hole and start filing through.

  Something yanks my arm. “This way.” Matt’s voice in my ear. “I see Lyla.”

  Using a squirt of speed, I duck under a roving bullet and yank a rifle from a troll’s hand. I chuck it to Paige, then speed across to the far side of the courtyard, away from the commotion.

  A battle commences at our backs. Trolls pour through a metal door, firing. Despite Joe and Hal trying to shield everyone from spewing bullets, they can’t cover everyone; unadjusteds go down. Blood colors the dusty ground. Screams echo in my ears, but people make it through the hole in the fence. Joe keeps one hand over his throat as he slices at the trolls with his machete. Paige, close to the razor wire, fires the rifle at the amassing trolls.

  “It’s Lyla,” Matt says, coming back into view. His body shimmers into existence like a ghostly specter and nudges me along the back wall of the courtyard, away from the main commotion. Moments later he is solid and full color once again.

  In the far corner, away from everyone else, Lyla sits huddled in the dirt.

  Matt crouches before her. “Lyla?”

  She raises her eyes. Not as bright as Matt’s, but a deeper, more knowing blue. They settle on him and her face lights up. Tears stream down her dirty cheeks. “Matt.” She throws her arms around him. Amid the chaos, they hug, until Matt pulls her to her feet.

  He shoots a glance over his shoulder. “I need to get her out of here.”

  I eye the metal door the trolls poured through. My entry into the rest of the complex. “Go. I need to find my parents.”

  Matt nods, kisses my cheek, then tugs Lyla around the back of the main group and along the fence to the opening.

  The battle pushes into the center of the courtyard, both sides using overturned benches and metal trash cans for a scrap of cover. Although we seem to have the upper hand and most of the blood is the enemy’s, none of my friends can be spared. Only I can slip away undetected.

  I dash to the door and speed over the threshold. Looking up and down the hall, both directions look the same. I whisper a short prayer for courage. The freedom song comes to me and I mutter the words under my breath, finding comfort in their passionate appeal.

  But when our hearts burn quiet in the darkness of the night,

  We won’t bear to keep this silence—we will stand, and we will fight.

  Kyle blurs past me and screeches to a sneakered stop at the end of the hall. “Dude! There you are!” He dashes back to me and joins me along the wall.

  “What are you doing here?” I flatten my hands against the wall’s reassuring solidity.

  “I came to help you. You can’t go on your own.” He slashes a knife in the air, like he’s spelling out the letters in his name.

  The thud of helicopter blades sounds above our heads and the windows at the end of the hallway shake in their frames.

  “Sounds like reinforcements,” Kyle says, checking the door at our back.

  If that helicopter means more soldiers, I need to find my parents before I come face-to-face with the enemy. Hopefully the chaos in the courtyard will draw their attention first.

  “Let’s go,” I say, gripping my knife.

  Together, we run down the hallway and peel around the corner. Shouts and screams float in through the windows, but I block them out. I scan each room for my parents, for anyone at all, but the hallway only reveals an empty chain of basic offices. A chair, a desk, sometimes a computer or a few loose sheets of paper that fly when I breeze inside. Never my parents.

  “Up.” Kyle points to a staircase at the end of the hallway.

  We run down the hall, burst through the staircase door and jump up the steps two at a time. When we emerge on the second floor, we find ourselves in a hallway identical to the one below.

  I try the first door on my right; it’s locked. I break the lock with my bulk power and push the door open. A lab of some sort. A centrifuge and large refrigerator, a patient bed with an alarming amount of straps to hold someone down. Empty.

  Kyle shouts a cry of alarm. I stumble back and find myself nose-to-chest with President Bear.

  “Silver.” He draws out my name in his deep voice. “How nice to see you here.”

  His eyes always draw my attention first. Red. Inhuman. Evil. The pupils and the irises. Tall as a bulk, he looms over me, and his shadow fills the hall at his back. His hulking shoulders slope away to arms thicker than both my thighs, and his hairy hands drip something lacey and white. His spider nanite. The one everyone fears.

  The combination of grizzly bear and black widow nanites is what makes him unique and terrifying. Both species enhance his ferocity, making his orders unarguable and irrefutable. President Bear can shoo
t venomous silk from the palms of his hands. If they cut through your skin, you’re dead in minutes.

  Kyle screams. A scream of pain and surprise. Without warning, a thready white projectile pins him to the ceiling. A giant web. Bear must possess telekinesis too.

  “Let him go!”

  President Bear narrows his red eyes at me. “I don’t think so.”

  I raise my knife. The president laughs, and before the sound can fill the hall, another projectile of white shoots from his palm and wraps around both my wrists like a macabre pair of handcuffs.

  I don’t move. Although I have to look up at him, I manage to channel all my pent-up fury in that glare. “Let. Him. Go.”

  A beat pulses between us.

  President Bear snorts. “All right, then.”

  With one flick of his wrist, the webbing holding Kyle prisoner to the ceiling untangles and falls to the floor. He thumps to the ground and yelps again. Before he gets a chance to sit up, President Bear shoots out his hand once more. The crack of a breaking bone comes from Kyle, followed by a piercing scream. His face pales enough to blend with the white walls.

  There’s nothing I can do for Kyle with my hands tied, so I push a little bulk strength into my wrists but only succeed in tightening the webbing. It digs into my skin, and I know if I push any harder, its venom will sink into my bloodstream. Kyle will have to wait.

  Unintimidated, I glare at the president. “Where are my parents?”

  President Bear pulls on the webbing under Kyle and yanks the lead that connects his palm to my wrist. He drags us both down the hall and into an empty room. I try to slow him by anchoring my feet into empty doorways, but his strength is too much for me.

  “Why on earth would you think your parents are here?” President Bear shoves me into a chair and uses more webbing to anchor my arms to its legs. Leaving Kyle whimpering in a corner, he sits on the edge of a flimsy fake-wood desk and raps his knuckles on the surface.