Irreverent: Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The Relevance Series Book 2)

by Sarah Addison-Fox

  He pulls his mask out as he readies himself to leave. “I do not know. I am not privy to that information. My orders were to search the old city and to bring you in. And that is what I will do.” Derek holds my gaze. His voice is tight and stiff. “Some of us do not have a choice, Cristan. Some of us know our place and our function in society. Some of us have learned impulse control.”

  Without another word, he pivots neatly and jumps down. I hear him announce our destination to the driver a split second before the doors shut again. I don’t even try to stop the growled curse that escapes when the vehicle starts up again. I yank my arms against my bindings and pull as hard as I can on my floor restraints. Blood splashes onto the floor, mixing with my sweat. I strain and use every ounce of strength to try to break free. I keep at it until I’m panting, hot, and my wrists are raw.

  With a half-curse half-promise, I yell at the empty van with the hope they are recording me. “I am not going out like this, you bastards! I am not your bloody property!” I slump against the wall and lean my pounding head against the wall and stare up at the shiny metal of the ceiling.

  My reflection is distorted, covered in blood and sweat. After all I did to try to keep Jed safe, to keep Mallory safe, they’re taking me back to the New City.

  Without the short wave, without my time slide, I have no way of contacting them. I have no way of knowing whether they’ll leave Unit 2B out of this and just punish me. I can’t get them out or even tell Drew about the underground bunker that would have housed everyone.

  All because Jackson Stone wanted to bring me into his personal vendetta.

  Chapter 10

  Mallory.

  The descent to the basement has done little to calm my fractured nerves. And now, Kit and Jackson tell me I need to wait until we hear from Cristan and Trey. If it were any other reason, I might have protested more vehemently, but I want to know Cristan is safe, so I settle into the chair, hands trembling with anticipation and every hair on my body standing to attention as though electricity has infused the air.

  Kit is helping Jackson untangle wires on the desk where I found the gun and all of the time slides. They have a small box with a screen and digits on it that looks so old I wonder if it will even function. I jump in my seat as Jackson slams his palm down on the strange box. He turns a dial and a hissing sound comes from the box.

  Cristan’s distorted voice echoes around the room. “Hedgehog, cockroaches are everywhere. Over.”

  Kit curses under her breath and slumps into the seat alongside Jackson. I lean closer, trying to understand why Kit is concerned about cockroaches when Jackson mutters into the box. “Come on, Trey, tell him to move. We need him to move.”

  Alarm starts to build as I look from Kit to Jackson, neither of whom are paying me any attention. Trey’s crackling voice comes through the speaker. “Copy that. The exterminator works nights. Over and out.”

  Jackson smiles widely at Kit. “Soon as it’s dark, we head out.”

  Kit doesn’t return the smile, just frowns and places her hands in her lap and stares down at them. “And what if they take him back to the ward?”

  I suck a breath of air in through my teeth, making them both turn sharply. My words come out in a rush. “What are you talking about? What ward?”

  Kit doesn’t seem able to meet my eye. Her face is drawn and pale under the artificial basement lighting. Jackson flips a switch and gestures to the nearest screen. “I’ll show you, and maybe you’ll see why I needed him. No one else could have done what he did. And the fact that he tried to save you, it means he’s trying to protect you too.” My eyes widen as Kit nods. Her lips are pressed tightly together and her forehead is wrinkling. Jackson taps away at the screen, talking over his shoulder as he pulls up what appears to be camera footage. “For what it’s worth, it takes an enormous amount of courage to do what he did. That’s why I needed him.” He taps a key and scrolls through files on the screen until he finds what he wants. He swivels on his chair so he can look at me. “You ready? This isn’t pretty. It’s far worse than what your parents let the G do to you with EST. What they did goes beyond the norm.”

  My voice is little more than a whispered croak. “Show me what they did to him.”

  He glances at Kit and she nods slowly as though she’s not sure. She runs a hand through her hair and puffs out a sigh. “It’s the only way she’ll understand why we’re putting her through this.”

  Jackson’s face sets, he twists in his seat and hits the on-screen motion control. The screen is set to maximum zoom and the picture is so clear I feel I’m inside the sterile hospital room so like the one I received my own treatment in. I see the bed first, a figure lying still, covered in sheets. There is no sound, just the image of a young boy sleeping on his back. Whatever I was picturing, I wasn’t expecting to see a young Cristan peacefully napping. This is not like my memories or experiences, but something is wrong.

  Where Cristan’s dark hair now covers his head, his hair has been cut so short, it almost looks shaved. Under his hospital gown, there are wires attached to his thin arms, trailing under the sheets covering him, and appear to be attached to a machine with lights and gauges.

  I peer at the screen closer and Jackson shifts to the left so I can lean in. The picture is so clear I can make out the details of Cristan’s face. There’s a slight noise. Cristan’s eyes flicker open and his fear is palpable in the way his body goes rigid. I hold my breath as he sits up, the sound quality so clear I can hear the sheets rustling.

  A man enters. Footsteps clipped as he walks towards Cristan. He stands to one side, posture unyielding and a face to match. His features are so similar, it’s obvious he shares Cristan’s bloodline, I tilt my head and wonder if he’s Cristan’s father.

  I’m gripping my chair so tightly my fingers are aching. Cristan’s voice carries an unfamiliar squeak when he speaks to the man. “Why are you here?”

  The man’s voice is flat, lifeless as if someone sucked away all the joy from him. “Mother and father wish you to know they won’t make the test tonight.”

  Cristan flinches. “Why?”

  The man merely turns on his heel and speaks over his shoulder, walking briskly as though he has somewhere important to be. “They are meeting with the council.”

  Cristan’s eyes pop wider and he throws the sheets off himself. Wires are taped to him; hundreds of bandages cover his thin arms and legs. My stomach churns as he calls out in a voice so weak, so feeble, my chest constricts. “But what happened to the baby? You said the c-section was scheduled for today.”

  The man turns slightly and his face remains so calm, I’m not prepared for the gravity of his words. “Irrelevant. And will be signed over.”

  Cristan’s face twists into a horrendous scowl, so filled with anger and hatred that I can feel it. He yells and jumps out of his bed, rushing across the room, wires tearing violently from his skin. The machine is ripped along the floor and crashes to the ground. Alarms start to sound and a red light above Cristan’s bed starts to flash.

  I hear a robotic voice. “Test subject 7, this is your three-second warning.”

  The man sidesteps as though anticipating it and swings his fist backward as Cristan runs at him. I wince as Cristan yelps in pain as the man’s fist connects. I want to look away, but I can’t. The man takes something from his pocket and Cristan skids to a stop.

  He backs away, yelling guttural words I’ve never heard. “I will kill you for letting them do this to our brother.”

  My heart leaps to my throat, I’m so dazed this man is Cristan’s brother, I nearly miss that he’s aiming a small box at Cristan. The box flashes blue and Cristan screams and drops to the floor. Tremors start to rip through his body, making him convulse violently and curl into a ball.

  The man walks to a panel on the wall and punches a code into the wall. “Test subject 7 restrained.” While his back is turned, Cristan continues to shake and shudder. Then he stills.

  Jackson hits pause. He
looks at me and reaches out to pat my knee like that will help. “This is where it gets interesting.”

  I swipe his hand from my knee and his eyebrow rises as I shake my head. “This is not interesting. I don’t want to see any more.”

  Jackson looks to Kit, who seems almost as distraught as I feel. She gives me a weak smile. “That was a G issue stunner. Remember what happened when he was trying to protect you outside the wall?”

  My eyes are filling, my throat closing, but I nod. “I remember.”

  She prods Jackson’s shoulder. “Play it.” I start to protest I can’t watch any more when I notice Cristan’s arm jerk. Then his leg. Kit looks at me. “That amount of wattage should have kept him down for at least 30 seconds and after that he should have been completely complicit. It should have fried his brain.”

  Jackson snorts. “That boy doesn’t know how to be complicit. No matter what they throw at him, he throws it back.”

  I ignore his amusement, too riveted as Cristan slowly pulls himself up, he’s breathing hard, and I can see blood is dripping from his arms and legs where he ripped out the wires, but his jaw is set and he manages to stand.

  “Derek,” he murmurs. His voice is weak, but when his brother spins around, surprise etched on his face, he launches himself towards his brother and starts hitting him.

  They tussle, grappling with each other, Cristan a seething mass of fury as he punches and kicks at his larger brother. His brother scrambles away, eyes wide in fright, his hands up protecting his face as Cristan keeps pounding his fists into him. He’s a whirling blur of bones and underdeveloped muscle. Blood splatters on the floor, Cristan’s face is filled with such violence, I start to shake.

  My head is getting light so I grip the sides of the chair even tighter. Just when I think Cristan will stop, he throws his body weight on top of his struggling brother and grabs his muscled arm and wrenches. Derek screams and a sickening pop is audible even over the scuffling and cursing coming from Cristan, but Cristan doesn’t stop. He kicks his brother in the ribs several times, bends down to pick up the stunner and staggers away.

  He’s breathing fast as he leans down to the machine he was attached to and drags a wire out from it. Over the sound of his breathing and his brother’s moaning, I hear the slightest sound of Cristan’s choked sobs. His shoulders are shaking as he stumbles to the panel. He rips open the box, the same way he did so we could escape from the room Jackson confined us in, and wipes his eyes before fiddling with the mechanics of the box.

  I swallow and look to Kit for an explanation. She’s watching me closely, a worried expression on her face, but she’s ready with an answer before I even need to ask. “He’s using the copper wiring as a conduit. He just needs to depress the stunner and it’ll short out the lock.” There’s an amount of admiration in her voice I’d not expected.

  I don’t want to watch anymore when Cristan spins around long enough for me to see his manic expression. I shudder as he walks out of the door, still dressed in his hospital gown. Feet bare and a stunner in his hand.

  Jackson freezes the screen and cocks his head at me. “He took down a guard on his way to the delivery suite. Stole clothes, supplies, then hacked into the mainframe to find his little brother.”

  Hot tears have started to flow from my eyes. I blink them away, horrified, by Cristan’s violence, by his brother’s coldness, and the sight of the bandages that must cover a multitude of injuries his parents consented to.

  Jackson and Kit are both staring at me as though waiting for my reaction. I’m not sure I want to know, but I can’t stand not to. “How long had he been in there?”

  Kit’s mouth turns downward and a flicker of anger on Jackson’s face is enough of a confirmation. “Seven years. On and off. Any time he displayed Irrelevant behaviour they sent him back.”

  Bile rises in my throat. “But they couldn’t have known for sure? He was still years away from Relevance Testing?” Even as I say it, I know that wouldn’t have made a difference. It hadn’t for my parents.

  Jackson huffs an angry sigh. “No. They couldn’t. But they couldn’t figure him out either. He was exhibiting Irrelevant behaviours like a lot of kids do, but he was also a genius. The G ran all manner of mental/personality tests on him. He beat all of them—”

  I interrupt him with a wave of my trembling hand. “But why? Why would they test a boy so much?”

  Jackson scratches his chin and sends a look at Kit. She takes a breath and releases it before answering. “Firstly, they medicate all children born into families of ten couples. No parent wants to run the risk of having Irrelevant children.”

  My eyes widen. “My sister was medicated as well?”

  They both nod, though Jackson’s is accompanied by a curled lip. “If you live in the upper city, you’ll get it added to your food delivery. Once you hit age three, they ease off, unless you have displayed behaviour they don’t like. Then they increase the dose, and if you keep your head down and don’t cause anyone any grief, you get to stay in the city until testing.”

  A knot grows in my stomach. My parents had known. They’d done what they could to keep me from a result of Irrelevance, but even the horrific electromagnetic shock therapy and the drugs hadn’t been enough.

  I wipe my eyes and swallow past the lump in my throat. “And Cristan? He was born to a number ten couple too?”

  Jackson looks at me with such pity that an icy chill runs down my spine. “Your boy wasn’t just born into a number ten family, he was born into the number ten family of Gallathia. The family that makes the rules, the family that decides what’s Irrelevant and what isn’t.”

  My breath locks inside my chest. “Cristan is related to the Prime Minister?”

  Kit leans forward, her eyebrows knotted together. “Oh hun, Cristan is the Prime Minister’s son.”

  My body fills with cold that travels down my skin and covers me like a smothering blanket. “That’s not possible. I’ve never heard of him. The Prime Minister has no children.” Jackson’s face blurs as tears blind me again. Hurt jabs at me, like knives aimed at my heart.

  Kit’s voice comes from far away. “That’s what they want us to think. They’d never risk any of the Prime Minister’s children being born Irrelevant. They use surrogates for pregnancy so it’s easy for them to hide away any dirty little secrets they have.”

  Jackson turns and taps on the screen and pulls up a file with pictures of boys. “There were multiple test subjects pulled from high ranking Relevant families over the last decade. When Cristan grew resistant to the meds, they decided to enrol him in a new program being tested.”

  I shake my head. Jackson is giving me too much information for me to take it all in. “But they didn’t cure him. He’s still Irrelevant.”

  Kit exchanges a glance with Jackson. “That’s the thing. They were so worried he might be Irrelevant, they overlooked the very real possibility he wasn’t. By the time they even considered their interference may be what was causing his behaviour, it was too late, and Cristan wasn’t the same boy that went into the program.” She pauses to take a breath. “What it did do was make him an ideal candidate to participate in top-secret testing.”

  I release my grip on the chair and dig my fingernails into my palms. “They tried to fix him, but he wasn’t even broken?”

  Jackson’s laugh is caustic. “Exactly. And in the process they accidentally found out how to alter his personality so that when provoked he’d do what you just saw him do.”

  I ignore the emphasis on the word accidentally and look at Kit. “But why do they want to make him go back?”

  Kit arches her eyebrows. “He’s still the son of the Prime Minister, but more than that, he’s an investment.”

  I scrunch my face up, too many thoughts all vying for attention. “An investment?”

  Jackson huffs a breath as he folds his arms across his chest. “Unlike me. Cristan is still considered valuable—"

  I interrupt. “How do you know he’s an investment?
”

  Kit looks at Jackson with a deep frown. “Around the time I learned Jackson was scheduled to be executed for civil disobedience, I stumbled on some information.”

  Jackson grins at her. “Yeah. Thank feck for that too. I’d never have made it out if you weren’t already on the fence.”

  I scrunch up my face as I try to follow the conversation. Kit smiles at me as she tries to explain even though that wasn’t my question. “Some of the girls were talking about what a looker Jackson was, so I volunteered to be on his execution team.”

  My head is spinning with all the information. “You helped Jackson escape?”

  Jackson chuckles. “I was in there for four months while they decided which was the most humane way to kill me. When Kit and I started talking, when everyone else wouldn’t, I figured I had a chance to try to convince her to help me.”

  A blush starts on Kit’s cheeks and she looks up at me through her lashes. “I was a smitten teenager. I had no idea what I was getting into. I thought it was romantic.”

  Jackson snorts a laugh and punches her arm lightly. “Why’d you never tell me you that was why you got me out?”

  Kit’s expression softens as they look at each other. “It wasn’t the only reason you dolt. I got you out because I couldn’t watch you die for something I no longer believed in. And because they were taking innocent children and trying to do worse than Irrelevance ever could.”

  Something passes between them. Jackson’s expression shifts and he seems to have stopped breathing. “Oh, hell. Kit. You know I love you, right? But I kind of figured you deserved better. Then when Trey showed up from 1C I thought you had a connection.”

  Kit’s eyes pop open and she seems to choke. “A connection?”

  Jackson frowns at her and looks in my direction. “Anyway, that’s not important. All you need to know right now is that come tonight you’ll better understand—”

  The radio crackles and Trey’s voice comes in. “Animal come in. Cockroaches have Mad Dog. Over.”