Chaotic emotions danced within her. His dad was the sheriff. And he’d just seen her gun. She met his intense gaze, and her anger overcame desperation. Why should this person, this Anders, get to hold her fate in his hands?
“No.”
He lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”
She stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You did not just see that.”
He held up both hands and gazed down at her, his lips slightly parted. His warm chest rose and fell beneath her finger, and he smelled like… laundry soap. Clean, fresh, even in the heat. And those eyes, with one strange spiral… She could stare into them all day.
“All right.” His voice came out husky and deep, and a smile flitted along the outer edges of his lips. “I did not just see that.”
They stood like that for a moment, every cell in Selene’s body humming with the strange, electric current running between his chest and her fingertip.
Selene broke eye contact first and let her hand fall. “Good.”
Eli had his new shoes on already and was staring at the both of them as she tried to regain her composure.
“Let’s go,” Selene said.
Anders gently touched her arm. “See you around?”
Before Selene could respond, a loud crack echoed across the parking lot, and Anders pushed Selene and Eli toward the wall, blocking them with his body.
A gunshot.
Screams carried from the market where a ring of townspeople had gathered near the entrance. Two policemen were wrestling a man to the ground.
“You two need to get out of here,” Anders said, his voice rough.
“And you?” Selene asked.
“I’ll be fine.” He glanced back at the crowd, which looked ready to riot.
Selene grabbed Eli’s hand and took off.
The shouts intensified, and she glanced behind her. Anders was gone, and every person outside the market was involved in the riot at the entrance.
“What was that?” Eli yelled.
“It’s not our problem, and Nan wants us home. Let’s see how fast you can move in those new shoes. When we get to the highway, we can race, okay?”
“Okay.”
Selene’s hands started shaking as she crossed the parking lot to get back to the road. One trip to town and a little attention from a handsome guy, and her judgment had flown out the window. So stupid. She’d allowed Anders to see her gun. To witness her using flagged bits.
Yet… he’d helped them. If he hadn’t stepped in, the cops would have arrested her and seen her disc.
And that would have been the end. Infinitek would have had Selene and Eli. She couldn’t let anything like this ever happen again. Nan had kept them safe for eight years, and Selene had nearly ruined it in one day. From now on, she’d stay on the homestead and let Nan make the decisions.
But her new resolve didn’t make Selene feel better.
By the time she and Eli turned onto the empty road home, leaving the traffic behind, an ugly realization had taken root in her gut, cold dread turning her veins to ice.
Blindly trusting those criminals is what had gotten her into trouble in the first place. And here she was, blindly trusting Anders to do what he said he would.
If he kept Selene’s secret, the sheriff’s son would become an accessory to her crimes. No one would commit a crime to help a total stranger. She’d definitely never keep a stranger’s secret if it put Nan or Eli in danger.
Anders had nothing to gain by keeping her secret and everything to lose. It wasn’t a matter of if the cops would come looking for her.
It was a matter of when.
But Nan would know what to do.
The bitstorage card cut into her thigh as she moved, mocking her, reminding her how close she came to destroying everything Nan had worked so hard to protect. She pulled out the card and resisted the urge to fling it onto the road. Instead, she slid it into her pack.
Eli watched, his forehead creased with worry.
“Okay, Eli.” Selene’s voice cracked. “Ready? It’s time to race home.”
Sunlight streamed through the forest canopy, dappling the dirt road as Anders coasted toward his uncle’s house. When he reached the fence, he parked his motorcycle and stashed his helmet under the seat. He’d left his phone and the bike’s tracker at home so his dad couldn’t find him… but he’d be busy anyway after that riot at the market. No one had gotten hurt, but the police had made at least a dozen arrests by the time Anders left. He was still riding the high from all of that.
Of course, the excitement of that couldn’t top meeting that fascinating off-grid girl today. Selene. He was definitely going to find out more about her. His uncle had to know who she was.
Anders smiled ruefully as he grabbed his walkie from his backpack and approached the tall chain-link fence. It had been boarded up from the other side for privacy, and Anders rattled the gate to hear if the chain was still on. Locked.
But not for long.
He punched his uncle’s code into the walkie.
A beep sounded to let him know his uncle was listening. Listening on the first call. That was an improvement.
“How’s your day goin’? Told ya I was gonna be here today. You didn’t open the gate.”
A bird chirped somewhere above him, filling the silence.
“It’s okay. I can wait.”
Nothing.
“Okay, fine. How about this? If you respond, then I won’t have to keep callin’ ya until the sun goes down.”
No response.
“I guess I’ll get comfortable.” Anders sank to the ground and let a good twenty minutes pass. Uncle Jay needed to be worn down… He had to feel like he’d at least tried to resist letting Anders in.
Anders checked the time before he typed in his uncle’s code again, and his walkie beeped.
“You know, I got somethin’ for ya out here.”
The radio crackled. “Go home, Anders.”
Uncle Jay sounded irritated. Fair, considering Anders had snuck over here every day this week.
“I think you’ll—”
“Your dad made himself clear. You can’t be here.” A pause. “Stop badgering me, and I’ll work on him. Now go home!”
“Okay, I’ll go.” Anders tried to keep the smile from his voice as he stood up and shifted his backpack to his other shoulder. “But, see, I’ve got a bag full of tech from Thrift. Wonder what dad’ll do if he catches me with it.”
Crackle. Silence.
Anders’ smile broadened. He waited, counting down from ten in his head. He only made it to seven.
“What’d you find?” Uncle Jay asked gruffly.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m heading home. Let me know when my dad changes his mind.”
“Wait. What did Penn have?”
“Oh, just everything on your wish list.”
Uncle Jay cleared his throat. “What years?”
“Definitely manufactured between 2000 and 2030. All of it compatible with your set-up.”
Game. Over. Anders turned off his walkie with a satisfying snap of the dial and dropped it into his pack.
In less than a minute, he heard the clang of the chains being undone on the other side of the gate, and it swung inward.
Uncle Jay’s thick blond brows were drawn together in a scowl. He was wearing jeans and some other off-gridder’s ironic cast-off: a t-shirt featuring Coalition logos on the sleeves.
Traders can’t be choosers.
With a grin, Anders sauntered through the gate and offered his uncle the backpack. Jay snatched the bag.
Anders raised his brows. “Hi to you, too.”
Jay grumbled a reply, and as he started rifling through the gear, Anders looked out over the property and exhaled. It was good to be back on the homestead again.
The acres of wooded land and fields beckoned to him, places to get lost in, to explore, though it had been years since his uncle had all
owed him to wander around. Jay’s blue shuttered farmhouse looked like it’d gotten a fresh coat of paint recently, and a box of tools was open between the solar array and the rusted two-door car parked next to the home.
“Having trouble with that array again?” Anders asked.
Jay grunted noncommittally and glanced down the dirt road as movement caught his eye.
A quarter mile down, one of the tenants had pushed open the barn doors and was lifting a crate into the back of one of the pick-up trucks parked beside it. It was Old Manuel, the tenant who had been here the longest, since Anders’ grandparents had run the place.
Anders could feel the judgment emanating from him in waves, and he returned the stare with a smirk and a wave.
The man shrugged and started walking back toward the barn. He had to be ninety, at least, stooped over and missing most of his teeth. But his mind and mouth were still sharp. He’d have fun gossiping about the black sheep’s return to the homestead. The tenants didn’t think Anders belonged here anymore than his dad did.
Jay let out another grunt and zipped the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and started for the farmhouse.
Anders hurried after him. “You’re welcome!”
“Got your mom’s persistence. I’ll give you that.”
“And charm… Outstanding tech skills. Oh, don’t forget resourcefulness.”
“You’re taking it too far,” Jay said, as they reached the wraparound porch.
“Hmm. Intelligence… stunning good looks…”
Jay squinted up at him over his large, bent nose. “Thought ya got your good looks from me.”
“Uh-huh. Yes. That’s exactly what I meant.”
His uncle rolled his blue eyes—the only feature Anders remotely shared with him—and climbed the stairs. As he disappeared into the house, Anders covertly touched the post at the top of the stairs, just beneath the eave. A thrill coursed through him as his palm ran across the star engraved there.
Rebels from Haven had carved it before Anders had even been born. Haven smuggled illegal supplies, like medication and guns, and they helped people disappear when they were in trouble. But the main reason for their existence was to fight the Coalition.
When Anders left Telmont, he would head North, following the mysterious trail of homesteads and safe places until he reached the end: a hidden settlement that was home to the most powerful off-gridders this side of the Rockies. Or maybe anywhere, if they worked with the Watchtower Resistance on the West coast like Uncle Jay said they once had. But Anders seriously doubted Watchtower still existed. After they’d assassinated Ethan Raines, Infinitek had destroyed them—securing the death penalty for dozens of their members.
Haven was the only resistance left that mattered, and his uncle was the only off-gridder he knew of who knew how to get there. Anders was not leaving tonight until Jay agreed to make good on the promise he’d made the last time he was here: to finally show him where he went when he sent coded reports to Haven.
Anders had a new spring in his step as he entered the farmhouse and the musty scent of thousands of moldering pages swept over him. Stacks of old books cluttered the entryway and were packed tight on metal shelves lining every hallway and room. When Anders’ mother had brought him to visit the Nelson side of the family, the adults had spent hours together here, reading and debating every topic from science to philosophy to the restoration of an open internet.
Small, warm LED globes dotted the shelves and lit a path through the house, and Anders stepped carefully to avoid disturbing open books. Especially the ones that contained scraps of paper covered in Jay’s messy scrawl.
Jay had gotten sidetracked and was sorting through a pile of hardcovers halfway down the hall. Aside from the dirt they’d tracked in, the visible part of the wood floor shone. And the kitchen to the right had half the usual dishes and empty beer bottles on the counters. Jay must have finally let one of the tenants in to clean.
“There were riots today,” Anders said casually. “Market’s empty, but they claim food’s coming. You hear anything new?”
His uncle peered down at a decades-old, water-damaged hardcover titled The Fall of Rome: Why America’s Days Are Numbered. He nodded to himself and flipped it open.
“Uncle Jay. Have you heard anything new on the quarantine… or sent any reports to Haven?”
“Can’t say that I have.” Jay clutched the book to his chest and hurried down the hall.
Vague language. Won’t meet my eyes. Classic EvasiveJay behavior.
When they reached the back office, his uncle flicked on the overhead light.
No one had been allowed to clean in here. Books were piled on the shelves at all angles, and a wrinkled map of the old United States of America was draped across a shelf behind Jay’s rolling chair.
Papers, cords, clothing, and half-torn-apart tech were gathered in what looked like random piles on the big table in the center of the room. Jay swept a pile into a crate on the floor to make space for Anders’ offering.
“I’m gonna stick around tonight.” Anders said. “I bet I can help you with whatever you’re trying to accomplish with all this.”
Jay froze, blinked, then started sifting through the tech. “You gotta get back home before your dad finds out you’re here.”
“That riot was dangerous, ya know. Risked my life for those parts.” Anders sauntered over to a leather chair in the corner and moved a box off of it so he could sit down. “At least let me relax a little before I go.”
Jay ignored him, mumbling to himself, holding up the parts Anders had purchased at the thrift store.
That’s not all he’d done there. Anders bit his lip, thinking about Selene. He’d been walking into Penn’s when he’d gotten sidetracked by the hot girl hurrying across the parking lot. So out of place, wearing the wrong clothes. She’d had the look of an Independent, but off-gridders couldn’t legally use bits or shop. Anders wasn’t really welcome at any of Uncle Jay’s meets, but he’d hung around before, and he’d never seen her.
Those enormous green eyes, messy black curls he’d wanted to run his fingers through, that slightly raspy voice with a barely perceptible Southern accent… And the feeling when she’d touched his chest—electric, as if an actual spark jumped between them and went right through him. Anders rubbed his jaw, suppressing a smile. Ridiculous. Like nothing he’d ever felt before. There was a sexy, pent-up energy inside Selene that she was trying to hide. He wanted to be the one to release it.
And when she’d blown him off, he decided he had to be the one to release it.
Regular girls didn’t just walk away without a backward glance. Then again, they also didn’t walk around with illegal guns and bits on them.
“Hey, so, Uncle Jay… you know any off-grid families around here that don’t attend your meets? Maybe one with a teen girl and a little boy?”
Jay paused, then kept sifting through tech. “Can’t say that I do.”
“Right.” Anders was already getting bored with EvasiveJay’s game tonight. “What can you say?”
“That you should know better.” Jay clicked his tongue and cracked open an old radio. He held it up to the light. “If a family chooses to live off the grid and hasn’t engaged with the rest of us, there’s probably a reason.”
Anders grunted in response. Privacy was practically the off-grid religion. You didn’t butt into someone else’s business, and they didn’t butt into yours. Jay probably knew Selene, but if Anders wanted to see her again, he was going to have to find her some other way. Challenge Accepted.
Anders frowned and started looking through the box that had been on his chair, impatient for Jay to be done already.
His uncle had a darkroom, and the box was full of his photos—hundreds of them, all thrown together. Anders grabbed a random photo, and his chest went tight.
It was a picture of a cook-out on the homestead. Anders was in it, five years old or so, playing with a bunch of small k
ids he barely remembered. His grandparents stood next to the grill, and the young woman beside them was Anders’ mother.
White blond hair, blue eyes, animated features, and short and thin like Jay and their parents. She was staring right at the camera and laughing. His dad was nowhere to be seen, of course. He would have been working and avoiding the homestead like always. Anders would never understand why his mother had been willing to abandon her Independent status to become a citizen and marry his dad.
He made sure Jay wasn’t watching as he slipped the picture into his back pocket.
A series of beeps suddenly sounded from Anders’ radio, and his whole body went tense.
Uncle Jay stared at the backpack on the table, waiting to see if the radio would beep again. Then Jay’s radio went off on the shelf behind him, playing the same series of beeps.
Anders’ dad had gotten the three of them the unnetworked walkies so they could communicate without the Coalition finding out.
And now he was calling them both.
Anders’ radio kept beeping, and when it went silent, Uncle Jay’s started up again. His dad was not going to give up until one of them answered.
Uncle Jay wrinkled his nose as both radios went off in rapid succession. He snatched up his radio and twisted the dial. “Yes?”
“Have you heard from Anders? He’s not answering his walkie or phone.” His father’s deep voice rumbled through the radio, but it had a tinny, distant quality to it.
Anders relaxed. At least his dad was way across town.
“Why? What’s going on, Loras?” Jay asked.
“I’m dealing with riots down here. I told Anders to stay the hell home today, but Levitt told me he saw him near the market earlier.”
Uncle Jay squinted one eye at Anders. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“So he hasn’t stopped by,” Anders dad said with an accusatory tone, “and he’s nowhere near your house right now?”
“You made yourself clear.”
His dad paused as the sound of his Coalition phone ringing cut through the radio. “If he shows up, call me. And do not let him inside that gate.” His dad disconnected.
Defective (Fractured Era Book 1) Page 10
