The Unforgiven (The Propagation Project Book 1)

by Callie Bishop

  The impending footsteps of the men—who I’m sure are Rusers trying to rob me and beat me within an inch of my life—grow louder.

  There’s no way out of this now. This is what I get for coming here. I thought about asking Bert to come, but I changed my mind after I realized I would then owe him a favor, one I wasn’t willing to pay back.

  “Thought you could get away, huh?” With each step they take forward, I step back until I hit the wall behind me.

  One of the men grabs my wrist as he rips off my backpack and throws it on the ground. He stands behind me and pins my arms behind my back as he inhales the scent of my hair. An exaggerated moan emits from his mouth. “You smell nice.”

  I close my eyes, hoping that whatever happens, happens quickly. I just want this over with so I can go back home to Netty.

  “What’s a nice girl like you doing all the way out here?” the Ruser in front of me asks. “Looking for some Dust?”

  There is nothing I can do to defend myself, and I become enraged at the thought of being so helpless. That was the whole point of this trip—return less helpless than before, ready and able to defend myself.

  In my rage, my judgment starts to cloud, and I spit on the Ruser’s face. He grabs my cheeks with his dirty, rough hands and squeezes until my lips purse.

  “Wrong move, bitch,” he whispers to me.

  The Ruser behind me, still holding on to my wrists, laughs as he tightens his grip. I brace myself for what’s next, closing my eyes so I can’t see their looks of satisfaction.

  “Hey!”

  I hear a voice yell from behind them. I peer just beneath my eyelids.

  “She’s with me!”

  The Rusers recognize the man, and voice their obvious disappointment with not being able to continue. I feel my arms release as they both mutter threats under their breath and walk out of the alley. I stand there for a few minutes, feeling tingles in my arms as the blood starts to flow through them again. I pick my backpack off the ground and dust it off.

  “You all right?”

  I look up and notice it’s the stranger in the night. The very same who sat I next to on the bus.

  I fix myself up and put my backpack on.

  “Yeah.” I brush back the hair from my face that now smells like the Ruser.

  They are both still watching us, not totally convinced. The boy grabs my hand and plants a kiss on my lips. I know to play along.

  The Rusers seemed to be convinced and wave us off as they go on their way.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You need help getting somewhere?” he asks.

  Did I want to continue this mission? I had to.

  “I need to find this address,” I say, showing him the piece of paper with Bert’s handwriting on it.

  He gestures to follow him.

  “I’m Shane, by the way.”

  He holds out his hand, and I give it a good shake.

  “Hazel,” I reply as I gladly follow him out of the alley.

  * * * *

  Shane leads me to the address with no problem. He even waits outside for me as I view the “specialty items.” I exchange some food I’d packed, the batteries, and even the book I brought that he wanted for his wife for a black semi-automatic handgun and a stack of ammo.

  His basement looks like Bert’s pawnshop, overstuffed with trinkets and mismatched items. The Ruser says Bert vouched for me, so he shows me how to work the gun and even threw in some paper targets. I appreciate the extra info, but the incident in the alleyway put me way off my time schedule, and I’m anxious to get back to the bus. I thank him as I stuff the items into my backpack and leave.

  Shane offers to walk me back to the bus stop, and I readily accept. The last thing I need is to get caught alone again by the two I met earlier today.

  “So, did you find what you were looking for?” he asks.

  I nod but don’t disclose any specifics.

  “You know drugs are bad for you, right?”

  I smirk at his assumption that I’m here to buy Dust.

  “Trust me,” I say, “that’s not why I’m here.”

  Shane doesn’t push the subject, and I appreciate his respect for my privacy.

  “Don’t make it out here too often then, huh?” he replies.

  “Definitely not,” I say.

  “Oh, it’s not all Rusers and Dustheads here. If you comeback one day, maybe I can show you around.” His striking eyes light up when he smiles.

  On the bus, I avoided looking at him too often and never noticed how attractive he is.

  I give him a polite smile. “Sure,” I say, knowing I don’t ever plan on coming back here if I can help it.

  I see the bus rattling down the road.

  “Or maybe I’ll see you around East Point sometime?” he says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Maybe.” I hop on the bus to find a seat, grateful to be on my way home.

  Chapter 3

  I barely have time to switch the light on when Pigeons barrel their way into the house. One rips the blanket from my bed and tosses it on the floor. I hear the others stomp through the house.

  “On your knees,” he demands.

  I do as I’m told, and soon Netty is on the floor next to me.

  “Checked the whole house,” one reports, a scar marks a spot across his cheek. He is younger than the Pigeon in charge. “Only two.”

  But they already know that. Every male and female under the age of 35 in this ward, in every ward, is registered and tracked just like cattle. Dad’s age keeps him sleeping in the basement.

  The head Pigeon scans both our foreheads, and the other records the results in an electronic tablet.

  “Open your mouth,” he says to Netty.

  She looks to me for approval and I nod. Like it matters. You’re going to open your mouth, one way or another, might as well do it the easy way. I had learned that lesson during the first round of raids. Thanks to my obstinate attitude, I’d spent the rest of that week with a black eye.

  Netty opens her mouth, and the Pigeon swabs the inside of her cheek.

  Next it’s my turn, and while the Q-tip is in my mouth, I think of how easy it would be to nail this guy right in the balls from this position. I picture the scene in my head and have to stifle a smile. Smiling can lead to pain.

  “Last menstrual cycle?” the Pigeon asks Netty first, then me.

  It was once information I only needed to know, but now it was the business of the Capital. In the beginning I was the only one subjected to this evaluation, but it’s been a few years now that Netty’s joined me on the floor.

  “You will be notified by the Capital if you are a viable carrier. If you are a viable carrier…”

  You will be required to report to the Capital within 24 hours. If you fail to report, you and your family will be penalized to the fullest extent of the law.

  I am so sick of that damn speech. It was hard to “fail at reporting” when they snatched you from your house at any hour of the day.

  The Pigeons file out of the house as quickly as they came. Something on the table catches the eye of one, and he pauses to take a better look.

  “I think I’ll keep this.” He places the snow globe into his bag that holds their testing equipment.

  I silently pray Netty remains quiet. It was a gift from Mom on the last birthday they spent together.

  The panic in Netty’s eyes drops to her mouth. “You can’t!”

  The Pigeon looks back at her with the glint of power in his eyes. “I can’t?” he repeats.

  “Netty—”

  “No,” she shouts at me. She redirects her attention at the Pigeon. “That was my mom’s. You can’t take it!” The tears were cracking beneath the lids of her eyes.

  The Pigeon loses his patience quicker than I’d ever seen. He lunges at Netty with a backhand, but I was able to intercept just in time. Enraged that he missed his intended target, he grabs me by the hair.

  “Someone needs reminding of the rules.” He
continues to drag me across the floor by my hair, the dingy carpet burning the underside of my thighs.

  “Okay, okay!” Netty says. “Take it, just stop!”

  I grind my teeth to squelch the pain radiating from my cheek and head. “Just take it.”

  Another Pigeon appears in the doorway. “What are you doing? We got to go!”

  The Pigeon releases my hair and pushes me with his boot. He takes the snow globe from out of his bag and smashes it on the floor before disappearing in the night.

  * * * *

  I gingerly touch the tender spot on my cheek. My plan for the day is simple—Razor Pointe. The secret old mine that I once enjoyed with Mom.

  The bus driver starts to accelerate, but reopens the doors with a hiss for a last-minute passenger. Shane scans the empty bus as I scrunch down to hide. He spots me and sits in the seat on the other side of the aisle, already smiling.

  “Hey.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “This bus is open to the public, right?” he asks. “Or this is your own private ride?”

  I roll my eyes and mutter something under my breath.

  “How do you keep finding me?”

  “I’m not trying to find you,” he says.

  I’m not sure I completely believe him.

  “So, off to get into trouble with more Rusers today?”

  I peer up from my book. “Not today.”

  “Nice day to be out,” he says, looking at me from under his dark lashes.

  I’ve never taken anyone to Razor Pointe with me, except for Netty. An unexplainable guilt nestles in my stomach. Was I crazy for even considering this idea?

  When the bus reaches my stop, I gesture for him to follow.

  Razor Pointe sits among the elevated landscape of the small mountain range that runs through this Ward. The crumbling road is overgrown and hard to recognize, which keeps people out. It’s no leisurely walk to the mine. I check back with Shane as he stumbles across the rocky terrain. I smile to myself as he fumbles and cusses his clumsiness.

  “Where are we going exactly?” he asks as we walk into the forest.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” I say.

  We finally enter the clearing, and Shane’s eyes widen at the sight. The lake glistens in the background reflecting the sky and trees. It’s dead quiet except for the whistle of the birds and the faint hoot of an owl.

  “Wow,” he says. “How did you find this place?”

  “My mom used to take me here when I was younger. That’s where she taught me how to swim.” I nod toward the lake. The few good memories of my father are here, too. When I was about twelve or thirteen, Dad took me out here to show me how to shoot the small revolver he bought. He left Netty and I home alone a lot back then, and he wanted me to be able to protect the house if necessary. He would set up paper targets along the trees and show me how to aim for the heart of the bullseye. Eventually, the gun was stolen.

  “Can you teach me?” Shane asks innocently.

  I hadn’t planned on swimming today, but the weather is perfect for it.

  “Not afraid I’ll try to drown you?” I say.

  “Nope,” he says. “Not after the way you kissed me the other day.”

  I feel my face blush. “I think you’ve must have bumped your head on that walk.” I start fidgeting with the things in my bag, trying to avoid his stare.

  He laughs and takes his shirt off. I didn’t bring a bathing suit with me, so I go in with my tank top and shorts. It’s hot enough that they’ll dry quickly. Shane follows me to the water, and I spend about an hour trying to get him to float. Next, I attempt to show him a few different strokes, but he starts to lose focus, and we end up in a squabble of water splashing.

  We take a break and sit by the rocky shore of the lake, sharing the bottle of water and bread I brought.

  “I like it here,” Shane says as he chews. His eyes glitter, reflecting the water. He throws a few pieces of bread to some wandering ducks. The water starts to dry around his tanned skin as it drips from his body.

  “Me, too,” I say softly. “It’s my favorite place to be.”

  “There’s nothing like this in my Ward. There’s not much of anything there. You are the prettiest thing I’ve seen there in a while.”

  I look away from him, trying to hide the smile on my face, embarrassed by his compliment.

  “Wanna go for a hike?” I say, attempting to change the subject.

  Shane agrees, and I show him the path that leads to another clearing higher up the mountain.

  “It really is something to look at,” Shane says as he takes the view in. “Looks almost idyllic from here. You would never suspect it’s made up of scumbag Officials.” He turns to me, maybe expecting a response.

  I close my eyes and listen to the wind blow through the trees. “Everything looks perfect from far away. It’s when you’re close that you see the cracks.”

  We head back down and decide to call it a day. It is nearing dinner time, and I have to get back home to Netty. Shane and I walk back to the bus stop, saying little to each other.

  When we get back in town, Shane stays on the bus to go back home. He walks me off and asks the driver to wait a few minutes.

  “Thank you for today,” he says. “I had a really nice time.”

  We’re even now.”

  He smiles and promises that I haven’t gotten rid of him yet. I watch the bus drive away, hoping he’s the type that keeps his promises.

  Chapter 4

  I’m always on edge the few days after the monthly raid. It’s not until I’m sure we won’t be hearing from the Pigeons that I’m able to relax a bit, at least until the next raid.

  Netty and I take the trash to the curb for the weekly collection. As I plop the last of the bags onto the sidewalk, I notice a van making its way down the street. Dad had a car when I was really small, but he lost his license after one too many DWIs. The car sat in the driveway for years until he sold it for scrap to buy more booze.

  “Where do you think it’s going?” asks Netty, her eyes squinting in the morning sun.

  “I have no idea.”

  I shield my eyes with the back of my hand as I try to follow the van’s route. For a minute, it looks as if it’s headed our way. A rock of anxiety forms in the pit of my stomach.

  This is it.

  Maybe it’s here for me. Maybe Nettie. I see the panic register on Nettie’s face. What could I say to ease her fears? I couldn’t think of anything, my own fear of the unknown taking over.

  The van slows and then pulls over just a few houses down from us. The two Pigeons in the front seat jump out and walk toward the house with the blooming crepe myrtles. Their blossoms look like torches on fire. One of the Pigeons looks at me with empty eyes, and a chill creeps down my spine.

  A few more neighbors are standing on their front porches; those who are too afraid to show their face peek through cracked doors and dark curtains. The air is dead and even the birds know not to sing their songs. We’re all the thinking the same thing—relief that the van isn’t here for us, but sadness at the thought of what’s in store for the girl or guy the Pigeons will rip from their families.

  There is some commotion coming from the house, and then screams of a mother losing one of her children. The Pigeons stomp out of the house, one holding the girl in a bear hug.

  Netty gasps. “Maribel.”

  The same age as Netty.

  Maribel’s mother tries to reach for her daughter, but her husband holds her back. His nose is spattered with blood.

  The Pigeon shoves Maribel into the back of the van before they drive off.

  The neighborhood is empty again. The sudden breeze reminds us that next time it could be anyone of us.

  * * * *

  Shane and I rest on the crumbling porch of one of the cabins by the lake to take a break from swimming. The sun blazes overhead, right between the two peaks that cradle Razor Pointe.

  I’m overcome with an inex
plicable good mood.

  “What’s with all the smiling?” he asks. “I know you’re usually happy to see me, but now I just think you’re overdoing it.”

  “I’m just happy right here,” I say.

  He nods and looks out toward the lake.

  We sit quietly for a while as I slap a biting fly off Shane’s bare back.

  “Ouch!” he barks. “What was that for?”

  I knew one bite, and he’ll be scratching a welt for weeks.

  “Sorry.” I laugh, covering my mouth with my hands.” “You had a bug on you.”

  “Where?” He jumps up and brushes off his shorts and arms.

  This just fuels my laughter.

  “What the hell is so funny?” he asks, annoyed by my total lack of concern.

  I’m unable to answer him in my laughing fit. He wraps his arms around me and throws my body over his shoulders, my butt high in the air. He walks toward the lake to throw me in, but I beg him not to as I regain my composure. After a few more threats to throw me in, he finally lets me down.

  I impishly slap him away as he tries to push me into the water.

  “Before I forget,” he says between splashes. “I won’t be around next week. I got some things back at my Ward to do, but I’ll come back and meet you as soon as I’m done.”

  “I can’t,” I say, changing to a solemn tone. “I have to get serious about earning some money. I’m running out of stuff to pawn.”

  Shane stops trying to splash me and stands with his feet in the water. I see the disappointment on his face.

  “How much do you need?”

  I wouldn’t even know how to put a number on it. “Enough to keep me and Netty alive. I can’t be here all the time, hoping something will work itself out.”

  We’ve spent countless hours here together under the guise of teaching him how to swim. The truth is he doesn’t need any more lessons. The time I spend with Shane isn’t because I feel I still owe him something; it’s because I like it.

  Shane scratches just above his brow, a tick I’ve noticed when he starts to overthink. “I could give you some money.”