The Breeders Series: The Complete Box Set

by Katie French

  Mike’s face softens as he looks at Cole. He whispers in Hank’s ear again. I can tell whatever it is, it don’t please him.

  “Mike says you could take the boy’s place. You might be able to fit. But if not, the boy goes in.”

  I nod slowly. “Sure. I’ll fit. Let’s see what you got in mind.”

  Mike signals for me to follow him. Beside the table where the men tinker with the bomb, a hand-drawn plan covers the top of a battered card table someone must’ve dragged out of their shack. In the yellow light from the gas lantern, I lean over the drawings, tryin’ not to block the illustrations with my shadow. Below me is a network of sketched rooms with words penciled in the corners. I read “Mess Hall,” “Living Quarters,” and “West End Power Plant.”

  Mike taps the paper with his large, calloused finger.

  Hank leans in and speaks for him. “The bomb has to detonate near the power plant. Someone would have to enter here.” He points to a spot on the map labeled “North Ventilation.”

  “If these undergrounders are smart enough to find a government facility, they’re smart enough to lock their goddamned back door,” I say, stickin’ my thumbs in my belt loops. “They ain’t gonna let me waltz right in.”

  Hank gives me a nasty glare. “Of course it won’t be that easy. But we’ve only seen about a dozen people coming and going from there. They can’t possibly watch everything.”

  I look the map over again. Whoever drew this has sketched narrow tubes runnin’ from the outside ventilation to a main area. Then it angles left over to the power plant. “What’s this?” I point to the big, empty space on the map.

  “We don’t know.” Hank flicks a glance to Mike. He shakes his head as if agreeing.

  “You don’t know? They could have anything in there.” I run a hand through my hair. “You’re sendin’ me into a death trap, and you’re doin’ it all from the safety of your easy chairs.” Heat burns through my chest. “This whole plan stinks. No wonder you want me to do it. There’s no chance you’ll see me again, but you ain’t out nothin’.” My eyes dart around the circle, but no one will look at me. My head’s throbbing. Angry, I reach out and grab Hank by the arm. “If you need someone small, send this bastard. He’s just the weasel you need to slither in somewhere.”

  Hank kicks at my shins, cursin’ and clawin’, but I hold tight. Mike’s eyes blaze as he comes at me, his hand slippin’ to the knives in his vest.

  “Let… him… go.” Mike forces each garbled word out as he draws out two eight-inch knives, thin as paper and sharp as death. I wish to God I had a gun.

  I let the kid go. He spills into the dirt, clambers up, and skitters behind Mike, still spittin’ curses at me.

  “I ain’t tryin’ to hurt ’im.” I show my open hands again. “But this plan’s rotten and you know it.”

  Mike tucks both knives back into the neat pockets on his vest. “Show… him… the bomb.”

  I step over to where the men are fiddlin’ with wires attached to a plastic canister filled with amber liquid. Betsy and Cole gather behind me as I look the contraption over. “How will I get this in without blowing my balls to China?” I ask.

  Hank leans over the bomb, an evil smirk formin’ on his face. “It’s got a timer, dumbass,” he says, but he glances up to see if Mike’s around. Lucky for Hank, Mike’s still staring at the map. Hank’s evil smile deepens. “Even a shit-for-brains cow licker like you can drop off a ready-made bomb, right?”

  I keep my face neutral and pretend I haven’t heard him. “If this thing gets bumped, does it go off?” I ask one of the guys threading wires around a set of batteries.

  The man squints into the lantern light behind me. He’s thin with a leathery face and dark nearly black eyes. Patches of raw, sun-damaged skin pock his cheeks and bald head. He stops workin’ on the bomb, stands up, and considers me. “Bomb won’t go off with just a jiggle, but I wouldn’t drop her from any height if I was you.” He pulls a rag from his pocket and rubs his hands with it. “Then again, I ain’t never built no bombs before, so what the hell do I know?”

  I lean back, shocked. “This your first bomb?”

  He sighs. “Turns out I’m one of the only folk ’round here who can read so…” He trails off, nodding at a tattered book. On its pages, I see schematic drawings that look a lot like the bomb before me.

  I clench my jaw, but as I’m heatin’ up, Mike walks over. “Rest… today. Tomorrow… you go. If you… succeed, I’ll… make… you my… speaker.” His meaty hand clamps on my shoulder and his eyes go to Hank, who is shuffling, looking concerned. “Hank… needs a… break.”

  Hank stares up at Mike with fear on his face. Apparently, Hank doesn’t want a break.

  All of this stinks. I wanna fight. I wanna run for the hills. But I look down at Cole and see he’s lookin’ up at me for answers, for safety, and none of those options get us there.

  “Tomorrow, I drop off your goddamned bomb. The next day, you set us free. I want your word.” I look at Mike levelly.

  “I get to leave, too.” Betsy shuffles forward, her round face tight with fear. I’d almost forgotten she was here.

  I turn back to Mike. “She comes, too.”

  Keepin’ my gaze, Mike squeezes my shoulder one more time, as much of gentleman’s agreement as I’m going to get, and walks away.

  Hank watches him head back toward their house. When he’s sure Mike’s out of earshot, he says, “Mike says eat shit.”

  Anger flaring, I pull my hand back, actin’ like I’m about to strike. Hank skitters away, scared. I wait for the other men to come to Hank’s aid, but they turn back to the map and the bomb. Looks like they’re as sick of his mouth as I am.

  Hank flashes his teeth like a wild animal and lowers his voice. “I swear to God I’m gonna make you pay, cowboy. I’ll find a way to make you and your little idiot pay.”

  “Try me,” I say through my teeth. My pulse is blarin’ in my head. One more move and I might sock this kid.

  I feel Cole’s hand on my arm. “Clay.”

  When I blow out a breath, droppin’ my fists, Hank stares at us for a beat. Turning, he scrambles away like the weasel he is.

  Cole, Betsy, and I watch him go, runnin’ across the sand and tearin’ up the stairs to the house he and Mike share. Cole keeps his hand on my arm like he needs to hold me back, but all my fight is gone. Hank’s just a brat. I shouldn’t let him get to me like that.

  “I don’t like it, Clay,” Cole whispers, still starin’ as Hank slams the shack door, rattlin’ the whole structure. “That kid is gonna make trouble for us.”

  Chapter 17

  Riley

  With Corra watching me carefully, I look around the table at each doctor. Each wears a different expression—Dennis looks pissed, Corra expectant, and the man next to me looks concerned. Me, I feel bowled over by everything I’ve just learned.

  I take a deep breath. “You want me to kill Subject Seven and retrieve Subject Eight?”

  The men shift uncomfortably. Corra reaches over and touches my hand with her fingertips. “We don’t want Subject Seven dead, but she’s become a liability. Not only does she mature faster, but she’s stronger and more resilient than other humans.”

  “So, I kill her,” I say, the words point blank.

  Corra clears her throat. “If it’s necessary.”

  I glance down at the image of the abandoned town Corra has pulled up on the screen. Pitted buildings, rubble, and trash range as far as the image will show. It’s an abandoned town like so many I’ve seen before. So many dark alleys. So many places for Subjects Seven and Eight to lurk.

  I peer at the town again. “If she’s so brutal, why did she free Subject Eight?”

  Corra shrugs. “Maybe she sees Subject Eight as family. Seven and Eight were the only two we could take from the Breeders’ hospital. The others are still imprisoned in Nessa’s labs. Seven clearly doesn’t see us as kin, but Eight is her species, though more evolved. We’ve tried to instill comp
assion, empathy, more… human qualities while keeping gestation and maturation times the same.”

  “How’d her reprogramming go?” I ask, tapping my finger on the smooth black surface of the table.

  Dennis speaks up. “Poorly for the most part.”

  Corra shoots him a look. “We’ve had mixed results. Their brains develop so quickly we’re learning we cannot try to parent them like normal children.”

  “Which is why we need Subject Eight back,” says the older man to my right. He looks out of place with his army shirt stretching over his round belly. “Subject Seven is a lost cause, but Eight is our last hope. If we can unlock what makes her human, we’ll have solved the single most important genetic mystery facing our time. And we’ll do it humanely.” His eyes flick up at Corra, and she nods. “Without Eight, well, we might as well just live out our days eating bean soup and watching Palmer and Chandler hold push-up contests until we croak.”

  There’s a quiet chuckle around the room. One man flexes a bicep, smiling. The old man’s face becomes solemn again. “Riley, if you can bring Eight back, you’ll not only be closer to finding your friends, but you’ll also be helping to repopulate our world.”

  His eyes well up behind his glasses, and I worry he might cry. His tears seem sincere, but I’ve heard that message before about saving our planet. The Breeders love that line.

  I look around the table once more. Even Dennis is looking hopeful.

  I sigh deeply. “I need to talk to the people I came with.”

  Corra nods, standing. “Do that. But remember, we have little time left to help Eight make the proper neural connections. Soon, she’ll be just like Seven.” When I look confused, she bats her comment away with the wave of her hand. “Never mind. Come on.”

  Corra leads me out of the room and down another cold stone hallway. She doesn’t speak, and I’m glad because my thoughts bounce around my head like rubber balls. I’m supposed to enter an abandoned city to take on a superhuman monster who likes to kill. And I need to do it fast so that Eight can “make proper neural connections.” One thing’s certain—if I’m to do this, I can’t do it alone.

  We hike up the stairs until we reach the main level. I begin to realize how battered my body feels and how hungry I am. The soup from a few hours ago is a distant memory. With no windows or any outside light, I can’t tell what time it is, but my stomach thinks a meal should be coming soon.

  Corra leads me to a cozy dorm room. Doc jumps off the bunk when he sees me and Auntie turns her good eye my way. “Oh, thank God in heaven,” she says, reaching for me. She purses her mouth and frowns at Corra. “Kept her long enough.”

  Corra waves a hand in apology. “She was needed, but I am sorry. I’ll let Riley fill you in on recent events.” With that, she ducks out, closing the door behind her. I wait to hear if she locks it, but there’s no subtle click. Still, someone must be watching us.

  Doc plows into me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “Christ,” he says into my neck. “When I woke up and you were gone…” He pulls back, looking me over. “You okay?”

  “Sore as a mother, but yeah,” I say, rubbing his arm. “You?”

  “They fixed me up pretty good.” He holds up a bandaged wrist.

  “Auntie?” I ask, stepping around Doc to peer down at her. She sits on the bed, wrapped in a coarse gray blanket.

  She nods. “Take more’n that to rattle these old bones.”

  “She’s not telling you everything,” Doc says, standing beside me, one hand on the top bunk. “She’s got a broken ankle and some cracked ribs. She’s in a lot of pain.”

  Auntie bats at the air. “Pshaw. Those pills they give me ain’t so bad.” But then she looks at me, and her good eye swims in tears. “Glad you’re okay, punkin’ head.”

  I drop to my knees beside her. “Auntie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Hush,” she says. “You were trying to save us.”

  “I shouldn’t have turned like that.” A tear slips down my cheek. “I’ve ruined everything.”

  Waves of emotions hit me, and I’m drowning. I bury my face in my aunt’s lap and let her stroke my stubbly head as I cry.

  I’ve let everyone down. Everyone.

  I pull back, wiping at my face with my dirty sleeve. “Listen,” I say, forcing the tears away. “I have a way to fix this. They want me to find something for them. If I do it, they have these things called satellites. They take pictures from the sky. They can use them to find the boys.”

  Auntie purses her wrinkled lips. “What do you have to do?”

  She always does know how to cut to the core. I lick my lips, stalling for time. She’s not going to like this.

  “Someone kidnapped one of their people and is holding them hostage nearby.”

  Doc sits on the bed beside Auntie, looking into my face. “And you have to go get them? Why you?”

  “They’re all scientists. They’re useless outside of a lab. They need someone who’s been in the thick of it. Someone who can think on her feet.”

  Doc shakes his head. “I don’t like it. It shouldn’t be just you. If you’re going out there, I’m coming, too.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’d love company, but you might not want to come after I tell you the rest.”

  Doc fixes me with his intense gray eyes. “I’ve got your back. Nothing will change that.”

  I sigh. “Not even telling you that I’m bringing Bran along?”

  Doc’s jaw drops. “Why would you do a crazy thing like that?”

  I look directly at Auntie. “Because he’s a great fighter, he has nothing to lose, and he’s in love with Auntie.”

  “He won’t,” she says, but there’s no fight in her words.

  I zero in on her. “I’ve seen the way he looked at you. The way he became as docile as a baby when he saw you. He’ll do this for you, won’t he?”

  Auntie rolls her eye, sighing. “I haven’t seen or talked to Bran in forty years.”

  “Forty years?” Doc says. “Riley, there’s no way we can trust him on our team.”

  I ignore him.

  “Will you talk to him, Auntie?” I say. “It’s important.”

  She lets out another big breath and winces, touching her ribs. I’ve forgotten how banged up she is. It’s cruel to push her further, but we need this.

  “He probably won’t listen.” She picks at the fraying edge of the blanket.

  Doc stands, crossing his arms over his chest. “We should consider other options.”

  “We have no other options.” I raise my voice, standing. “Clay and Ethan are gone. I know that doesn’t mean much to you, but it means everything to me.” I touch my chest where the picture of Clay rests. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get them back. And whatever it takes means taking along the best team. Bran is the best we have. No offense.”

  Doc turns away, his face flooded with anger. Jesus, I can run my mouth. I touch his arm. “I don’t mean to be harsh. I just—”

  “You want Clay and Ethan back. I know.” Doc stares down the row of bunks at a crack in the wall.

  “Doc, you don’t have to come. Stay here. Take care of Auntie.”

  He looks up at me like I’ve said the most hurtful thing yet. “You think I’m useless? You think I should stay here and knit or something?”

  I shake my head.

  “You think I’m some pansy because I’m a doctor? Or worse, because I’m a bender. Well, who’s judging a book by its cover now, Riley?” When I reach out to him this time, he whips away. “Don’t.” He storms to the door, pulling on the handle.

  “Doc, you can come!” I say, but he slams the door behind him.

  After a long silence, Auntie speaks. “That one has feelings for you, puddin’. Be careful. Love can harden into something sharp and dangerous.”

  I sigh big and drop down on her bed. “Why is this all so hard?”

  She rubs my back with her gnarled hand. “A hard life makes you tough. If you aren’t tough, y
ou don’t survive.”

  When I ask about Bran, I’m told he’s being held in an observation room, which really turns out to be a cell with a camera, like the one I woke up in. I wonder how they knew he was dangerous, or if they just assumed because he was lashed to the Jeep. Still, I’m allowed in to see him. One of the men from the meeting walks me to the door and opens it for me.

  “Five minutes,” he says.

  I step through the door, and it closes behind me. Bran looks up from where he’s sitting on the hard concrete floor. Suddenly, I’m thinking back to when he was about to stab me to death in the basement at Kirtland. This is a bad idea.

  “Hi,” I say, keeping my back to the door.

  He tucks his long, scraggly hair behind his ears and nods at me. “Hello, lass,” he says, his accent strong today.

  “Sorry you’re back in a cell.” I dig my boot toe into a divot in the concrete.

  “Are ya?” He narrows his eyes. “You care naught for the likes of me. Which means if you’re here, ya need me. Truth?”

  I sigh. “I do need you, but I swear it’ll be good for the both of us.”

  “Why’re ya suddenly so interested in me?” He taps long fingernails on the hard floor, watching me closely.

  “These people have lost something. They need it returned. They want us to go out there and get it back.” I look into his eyes, hooded by curly, gray brows. “I need you to help me go after this thing.”

  He chuckles, a sound that rolls out from his chest like thunder. It isn’t a good laugh. It’s the laugh of someone who thinks you’re nuts. “Do you know who these people are?”

  I nod. “They defected from the Breeders’ hospital.”

  “Is that what they told ya?” I can see he’s smiling behind his thick beard. “Malarkey.”

  “Then who are they? Tell me what you know.”