by Eliza Green
‘Dom, stop. You already apologised.’
She grabbed his left shoulder, an action that sent a ripple of pain through his left arm. He used his annoyance to hide his discomfort from her.
‘I just need to speak to her.’
‘Leave her alone,’ she warned. ‘She doesn’t remember you. Whatever she has with Alex, they need to figure it out together.’
He shucked her off and glared at her. ‘I don’t know what else to do, Sheila.’ He pulled at clumps of his hair. The length was starting to annoy him now. ‘I remember everything. It’s like... what happened never did.’
Sheila pushed him back against the truck. As tall as him, she looked into his eyes and said in a measured tone, ‘Listen to me. My Copy gave me back my memories and the first person I remembered was Yasmin. It hurt when she didn’t remember me. Then I saw one of the medic guards shoot her as though her life meant nothing.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I watched a woman with whom I’d shared a connection die before me. But what hurt worse was she died not knowing she had a friend beside her.’
Dom relaxed his tense posture. With all the drama, he’d forgotten that Sheila had been in the same boat. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being a dick.’
‘At least Anya’s still here.’
That was something, but he wondered if it might be better if she wasn’t.
He sighed, but the tension kept his posture rigid. ‘I’m trying to concentrate on what matters—protecting this compound—but with things weird between me and Anya, and the thing with Warren, I just don’t care.’
Sheila punched him in the arm. His left arm. He clenched his teeth as a ripple of pain tore through it, right up to the shoulder.
She frowned. ‘I didn’t hit you that hard, you baby. Look, Warren will get what’s coming to him. Trust me on that. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Our lives are in danger. We were lucky to escape the city. You and I need to move on from our pasts. Me from Yasmin and you from Anya.’ She gripped the sides of his arms, unaware of his recent surgery there. ‘Whatever happens, you always have me.’
More pain blossomed in his arm. He eased his limbs out of her iron grip and stared at the girl who’d had his back for years, whom he’d die to protect. ‘Thanks, Sheila. I needed that kick up the butt.’
He ruffled his long, curly mop using the fingers of his good hand.
She nodded at him. ‘Maybe it’s time you get that cut. Charlie should be free while the training is going on.’
Dom agreed, not ready to return to the yard. ‘Tell Max I’ll be back later.’
He left her alone by the truck and walked down the street leading to the back perimeter fence. Passing by the first street, he glanced down it to see their escape car. The sight of Anya leaning against it halted his next step. Her eyes were downcast as though she were deep in thought. Dom lingered by the corner, his skin pricking with a hot desire to speak to her. But instead of giving in to his impulses, he walked on. As though on autopilot, he made it to the street with the barber shop and entered the building. Charlie was inside sweeping the floor.
Dom hesitated by the door, to temper his anger and claw back control. Charlie saw more than people wanted to share; Dom wasn’t ready for his failures to be brought into light. The last time Charlie had cut his hair, it had been to snip off his dreadlocks. He’d left the cottage in Essention with a short, tight haircut and a swell of anger. His chat with Charlie had reignited old feelings about his dead father.
‘Dom,’ said a smiling Charlie. He pointed to the only chair in the place.
Dom sat in the chair, which had pieces of tape holding the torn, cream leather in place, and stared at the cracked mirror before him.
‘Seven years of bad luck,’ he muttered.
Charlie chuckled and shook his head. ‘To the person who cracked it before me, perhaps. But it sometimes feels like we’ve all broken mirrors or walked under ladders, or had black cats cross our paths. Like our entire lives are a walking nightmare.’
Dom sighed. His summation of their lives hit too close to the bone. ‘Do you think we’ll ever get out of this mess? Find the place called the Beyond?’
Last night over dinner, Max had told him the soldiers had found no evidence of a shimmering border, as the Macklins had described to Vanessa.
He couldn’t remember a time when the machines hadn’t controlled the towns. If there was a place that existed beyond their control, they had to find it.
Charlie worked his fingers through Dom’s hair, damp from sweat. If it grossed him out, he didn’t show it. He picked up a spray bottle and doused his hair in water.
‘I don’t know, son, but my Max is good at what he does. And you kids are good at what you do.’
Charlie combed Dom’s hair until the wet curls had flattened. Then he sectioned the hair into four parts, front, back and two sides, and deftly worked the scissors through Dom’s hair.
While he worked, he chatted. ‘I haven’t really spoken to you since you arrived here. How are your wounds?’
Dom idly touched his belly. ‘Fine. I barely notice them. I still have the scars, you know.’
The left arm that still blazed hot from Sheila’s earlier punch was a different matter.
‘The scars should serve as a reminder of how special you are.’
Special? Dom made a face in the mirror. ‘I don’t want Praesidium’s tech inside me.’
He rubbed his left arm.
Charlie continued to cut. ‘That tech has been a part of you for so long. To remove it would be to remove a part of you.’
Dom had never told Charlie how he’d come by the tech. ‘My father sold my seven-year-old self to Presidium as a test subject, so the city could stick their tech in me.’
Charlie paused with the scissors in Dom’s hair. ‘Did your mother know?’
‘No. She thought I was sick and the surgeries were my only hope. But my father had been making me sick at the city’s request so nobody would question the surgeries.’
Charlie resumed cutting. The snipping sounds got louder. ‘Then it’s best your father is dead, because I would have killed him for putting you through that. You are like a grandson to me. Max thinks of you and Sheila as his family too.’
A lump rose in Dom’s throat. Charlie’s words about family reminded Dom of what was important. And it wasn’t the drama surrounding his on-off relationship with Anya.
Charlie continued to cut his hair. ‘Anya was in here yesterday. We had a nice chat.’
So much for Dom forgetting about her. ‘That’s... nice.’
‘You two don’t seem to be talking much.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s what she wants. She doesn’t remember me.’
‘Hmm.’
Charlie worked the scissors at an angle.
‘What?’
Charlie put a hold on the cut. ‘Oh, it’s just something she said to me.’
Dom’s heart pounded. ‘What did she say?’
The old man rested his hands on Dom’s shoulders. ‘Remember when I cut your dreadlocks off?’
‘I do.’
How could he forget?
‘Well, she asked me about it, said she remembered someone getting their dreadlocks cut off.’
Dom’s hope sank to the pit of his stomach. ‘You probably mentioned it to her, that’s all.’
Charlie squeezed his shoulders. With a glint in his eye, he said, ‘That’s just the thing. She brought it up, not me.’
He resumed cutting. Dom’s heart lightened a little. Anya was remembering on her own.
Twenty minutes later, after Charlie finished off the back and sides with a hand razor, Dom stared at his new hairstyle. Gone was the curly mop on his head, replaced by a short back and sides and a stylish length of curl on the top.
Dom admired his new cut. ‘You should do this for a living.’
Charlie barked a laugh. ‘You mean, I should charge you kids for my services.’ He waved away the idea. ‘I get payment enough from your company. Now, out of my chai
r. Someone’s waiting outside.’
Dom looked out the window to see one of the soldiers leaning against the wall opposite the barber shop. He pushed off and walked forward as soon as Dom headed for the door.
‘Thanks, Charlie.’
‘Anytime.’
Dom left Charlie with a lighter head and more perspective. Anya would remember. She could remember. He just needed to give her time.
On his way back to training, a deep scream silenced his thoughts and made his blood run cold. It came from the courtyard.
15
Carissa
Carissa sat on the ledge overlooking the camp. Nobody had witnessed her return to this place. The second she got high enough, the chatter from the radios reached her.
Her fingers curled into the long grass growing out of the mountain ledge. The chatter increased as the relief team, coming from Halforth, got in touch to say they were almost there. She sucked in a breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach, waiting for her elevation to bring another voice to her.
She didn’t have to wait long. The disc for her NMC irritated her skin and a familiar buzz indicating her connection invaded her mind.
‘173-C? I can feel you again.’ Quintus. ‘Why did you break our earlier connection?’
His voice had a flat tone to it—a common trait among the Collective ten. But their spokesperson’s voice rose every now and again, hinting at emotion.
‘I... I’m not supposed to talk to you.’
Her disc continued to bother her. She imagined her NMC attempting to repair itself further.
‘Why, 173-C? What harm can talking do?’ Quintus paused. ‘I meant it before when I said the Collective is not angry with you. But you must tell the Ten where you are.’
Her hands shook at her betrayal of the Inventor. She’d promised to stay away from her old life. How could she when the only person who cared about her was back in the city?
‘I can’t, Quintus. I don’t know where I am.’
It was partly true. Apart from being stuck in a camp with no discernible features, she could be in any of the ranges. But she had heard Anya reveal the name of this one: Ferrous Mountain.
‘Try to remember, 173-C,’ urged Quintus. ‘The Collective is worried about you, and about the others who were stolen from the city. We just want to bring our family home.’
Quintus was more sentimental than she’d ever heard him sound. Except for that one time before their escape, when he’d tried to talk her out of helping the others. What harm could it do to tell him?
‘I don’t know, Quintus.’
She trusted her instinct. Her betrayal would surely send the Inventor, the Breeder or Rover back to the city. What would the Ten do to her when she returned? She’d betrayed them in the worst way. Punishment would be on their machine minds.
‘173-C, think. The Collective cannot help you if you do not tell me.’
She had thought about it, about returning to the city, but something stopped her.
‘If I tell you, what will happen to the others?’
‘The Originals that escaped with you will be punished. The Collective has no interest in anyone else.’
That answer didn’t satisfy Carissa. ‘What will you do to them exactly?’
Quintus paused. ‘They will return to the city and work there until the Collective has no further use for them.’
She knew what happened to Originals who had outlived their usefulness to the Collective.
If Carissa was to go back, she wouldn’t want to return without the Inventor. Yet, the thought of him being locked up in the workshop again left her feeling cold. She imagined the Inventor’s voice in her head: Why would we make the effort to leave, only to return to that prison?
She gripped the grass tighter. ‘I can’t, Quintus. I’m sorry.’
Carissa slid down from the edge to the crumbling, stone steps and navigated them to the bottom.
Quintus shouted in her head, ‘We have not finished our discussion, 173-C. You do not have permis—’
His voice cut off when she dropped low enough for the signal to break. She huffed with relief, but what Quintus had said to her lingered in her mind.
A scream in the distance jolted her out of her thoughts as her foot landed on the valley floor. She squeezed through the perimeter fence and back to a deserted camp. It had been a female scream and it had sounded like it had come from the courtyard area. Carissa returned there to see a crowd had gathered by the stone wall entrance. Whatever was happening had everyone murmuring.
She squeezed through the onlookers to see Alex, Anya, Dom and Vanessa crowded around a distressed June. She was clutching at her stomach.
‘Are you okay, June?’ asked Vanessa.
June straightened up slowly. ‘I think so. It’s a stomach cramp, that’s all. I must have trained too fast after eating this morning.’
‘Even so, I think you should lie down.’ Vanessa turned to Max. ‘I’m taking her to the medical bay.’
‘Good idea,’ said a worried looking Max.
June grumbled when Alex took her other arm and helped her to walk.
‘I’m fine,’ she said with a flush of embarrassment. ‘Everyone’s fussing for no reason.’
‘The camp medics will be the judge of that,’ said Alex.
Carissa followed the pair helping June to the grey-bricked building. Her fading connection with Quintus drew her attention back to the camp and her Original’s sister.
Vanessa and Alex brought her inside. Carissa kept close on their heels. As the pair eased her onto a bed under the watchful eye of a military medic, Carissa approached the girl who she hadn’t spoken to properly since escaping the city. She’d been so excited to meet June, but their connection hadn’t endured past that initial meeting. Carissa was, after all, only a Copy of June’s sister.
‘Are you okay, June?’
She approached her on the bed.
June turned and screamed into Alex’s T-shirt as another stomach spasm hit her.
She pulled in air through gritted teeth and flashed Carissa a guarded gaze. ‘It’s just a stomach ache. I’ll be fine.’
One of the medics buzzed around her, connecting dots to her skin attached to a monitoring machine. The machines here were more basic than the ones in Praesidium.
Carissa lingered by the bed. Yet the longer she stood there, the more uncomfortable June appeared to be with her presence.
June looked at Alex and whispered, ‘Make her leave, please.’
Alex put his hands on Carissa’s shoulders, earning him a glare.
‘What are you doing, Breeder?’ Alex flinched when she used his formal title. She lifted her chin up in defiance. ‘I wish to stay.’
An angry Alex steered her to the door, but Carissa pushed back. ‘Get your hands off me.’
Who did this Breeder think he was?
‘Look, Carissa. She doesn’t want to see you. Respect her privacy. And don’t call me by a name the Collective gave me.’
Her anger made her blood pump faster. ‘If the name fits... You cannot stop me from seeing her. I’m her sister.’
Alex’s eyes flashed with hatred. He lowered his voice. ‘You are not her sister. Her sister died, thanks to you. That’s right, I overheard one of the Copies in the medical facility talking about it.’
Carissa stared up at him in shock. What had happened to her Original in the days after Carissa became a Copy had not been her fault. Every human emotion had been stripped from her. She’d only been following the Collective’s directive: to protect the city. Plus, her actions had saved the Inventor from the same fate as the others.
She pushed past Alex and made it back to June, who was doubled over on the bed in pain. One of the medics had pulled her top up to reveal her stomach. She was trying to examine it with an ultra sound wand, but the monitoring machine only beeped and flashed error in red.
June turned her sweaty, pasty face in her direction. ‘Get her out... I don’t want her here. She’s a reminder of t
hat place.’
Alex grabbed Carissa’s shoulder and pulled her back. ‘You heard her.’
A flare of anger shook her to the core. ‘You are not my senior, Breeder.’
‘Maybe not in the city,’ said Alex, steering her to the door and outside, ‘but in this camp, I’m older than you.’
Carissa had no comeback. She was only six months in existence. Even with Alex’s accelerated growth, he was still older than her by fourteen months.
She shrugged Alex’s hands off her and stumbled outside into the dazzling sun. Onlookers had gathered outside. They gave her a wide berth when she staggered towards them. Why had she left the city for this? Quintus wanted her back. Her former mentor considered her to be a valuable commodity. Out here, she was an outcast who got in everyone’s way.
Maybe she should tell him the location of the camp.
Carissa ran past the onlookers and returned to the only place where she felt safe and wanted. She sat on the floor of the storage shed next to Rover. The mechanical whine of his breathing soothed her. She pressed her ear up to his chest and listened.
‘There you are, miss.’
She startled, not having heard the Inventor come in.
‘I’ve been looking for you. I heard June fell ill. Is she okay?’
She nodded. The Inventor’s gaze raked over her. ‘When did you and Rover become friends?’
He nodded to the wolf, who had draped a paw across her leg. In her shock, she hadn’t even noticed the extra weight.
‘I saw him yesterday. He was lonely.’
Rover whined as if to agree with her.
‘What were you doing just now? I saw you come though the gap in the fence for the sectioned off area of the town. What did you need in there?’
Carissa averted her gaze. ‘I was just exploring.’ She looked up at him. ‘Am I in trouble?’
‘Depends on what you were doing. You weren’t attempting to contact the Collective, were you? We talked about it. It’s very dangerous. We need to stay off the city’s radar.’
The Inventor didn’t placate her in the camp like he would have in the city. That irritated her more than she let on.
With a violent shake of her head, she said, ‘I wasn’t, I swear.’ She changed the subject. ‘Why is Rover locked up?’
