Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2)

by Letto, Heather

  She dashed across the Agora looking for her exit venting and Ted, dressed in well-creased pants and a red blazer, ran next to her reciting Impervious dogma. She closed her eyes and when they reopened, a stuffed teddy bear lay where her brother had stood. As she reached for the doll, a tear tumbled from its glass eye.

  She wailed and held the stuffed bear to her chest, racing through dark tunnels, searching for an out. Her head throbbed and lungs ached as she ran. Something flashed in her peripheral. Light? She ran toward it, but as she moved it faded, and she ran hard into a metal wall. How had she mistimed that?

  She squatted in the darkness holding her head with one hand and clutching the bear with the other. She panted, trying to catch her breath, and a moment later, her body lurched.

  Fran rolled to her side and instinctively reached for the pot that had been placed there a moment before she began to retch. Her entire body convulsed and spasmed until her stomach had nothing more to give. Half off the bed, while her head dangled over the side, she worked to slow her breath. The shiny, worn planks that made up the flooring churned in swirls of browns and tans and the drumming of her heart eased as she rested in the moment.

  Although she felt like a haggard zombie, Fran at least felt somewhat victorious with the knowledge she could power-down the Council’s trackers. On her first sip of the detoxification tea, Ema warned her of the fierce battle ahead. Fran knew her body struggled to purge foreign materials, but the Bots put up a good fight. They had found a comfy home in her body and fought hard to maintain squatter’s rights.

  As she lamented, a pair of suede booties similar to her own shuffled into view and toed the pot away from her bed. She rolled her eyes upward, and a blur of gray and black took shape until she recognized the dark beard and soft layer of hair that now covered his head. She lifted a weak hand.

  “Chan.” She gave him a shaky smile, but her voice came out like a croak.

  “Wolf.” Chan shook his head. “You look awful.”

  “No kidding.” She eased back onto her bed, and the movement sent a lightning bolt through her skull. She winced and closed her eyes.

  “Not sure how you survived this, Chan.”

  “Me neither,” he said. Chan began hacking and doubled over with the effort. Finally, on a wheezy breath, he added, “I’m not real sure of anything up to a few days ago.”

  Fran peeked through squinted lids. “Are you really back?” She worried she might still be dreaming. Chan knelt by the bedside, his face inches from her own.

  “You’re … better,” Fran said. “Right?”

  “Didn’t even know I’d left, Wolf.”

  She pictured Chan a lifetime ago in the tunnel, squatting close-by, his face reflecting the light from his Reader. The same Reader he left behind to save her. Even in the darkest place, they’d shared a few moments of fun. He’d kept her alive, and now here he was greeting her in death.

  The banging of a door sent a wave of pain through Fran’s entire core. Chan lifted his gaze, and his smile grew wider.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Ema.”

  “Up and about already are you, Charles?” Ema’s voice trilled out with a song.

  “Checking in on my old protégé,” he said. “And you know us Rebels, we run on our own time.”

  “More like your circadian rhythms are forever altered by years living in darkness,” Ema said. She dropped the linens on the bed as soon as she realized Fran was awake. “How are you feeling?” she asked, taking Fran’s pulse with one hand while feeling her forehead with the other.

  Fran closed her eyes and licked her dry lips. “I could use some water.”

  Chan stepped out of the way, and Ema moved in. Using a cool, moist cloth, she wiped Fran’s aching forehead, eyes, and lips, and Fran breathed in a refreshing, minty scent that seemed to call from somewhere in the depths of her dreams.

  “Let’s have a look, then.”

  Ema opened Fran’s eyes, and Fran sucked in her breath as a light stabbed at her pupils.

  “I know, I know,” Ema said, and she wiped the moist cloth over Fran’s sticky eyes again.

  As Ema pulled away the linens and fresh air touched Fran’s fiery skin, she had a vague memory of this same scenario also playing out in her dreams. Although the coolness of Ema’s hands felt good, her probing elicited a new round of nausea. Saliva gathered in the corners of her mouth, and Fran swallowed back the urge to heave. Ema’s hands moved to Fran’s wrist as she softly counted the pulsations, and then she pressed her cheek onto Fran’s forehead.

  Ema smelled like apples and outside air. Fran breathed deeply and peeked out through squinted lids.

  “You’re doing very well, Fran. I can feel that the swelling in your liver and spleen is reduced and can see that your sclera cleared considerably. Your pulse is still rapid, so we need to get more fluids in you. We’ll load you up with water throughout the day, and by nightfall you should be ready for the last treatment.”

  “Another treatment?” Fran clamped her eyes. “My head’s going to explode.”

  “One more.” Ema held Fran’s head so she could swallow from the bowl of bitters she’d brewed. “I’ll have Tanya bring you water and ginger tea for your nausea.”

  Ema patted Fran’s shoulder. “You’re doing terrific. In another few days, you’ll be chasing bear cubs through the prairie.”

  Fran’s eyes remained closed. She could hear Ema shuffle around her bed and felt the tugging and tucking of the linens.

  “By the way, Charles, if you’re feeling up to it, I’m sure Ben would be happy to give you a tour around the camp.”

  “Sure,” Chan said. “But if it’s okay, I’d like to stay with Wolf for another minute.”

  “One minute more,” Ema said.

  Fran waited a beat for Ema to breeze back through the door before addressing her mentor. “Charles?” She said. “How did I not know your name was Charles?”

  “Hey. I was Chan before you were Fran. And, by the way, I named you Wolf, and I can take it back.”

  “Mm hmm …” Fran’s mouth felt thick.

  “Hey, Wolf.” Chan nudged her sleeping tomb.

  She peeked through her lids and licked her lips. “Chan.”

  “We need to get them out.”

  “I know. I tried.” Fran struggled to focus. “It’s worse than we thought, Chan.”

  She fought to stay with Chan, but the effects of the tea were pulling her way. “It’s in us. We’re all. Infect ...”

  Chan’s faced blurred and she didn’t have the strength to bring him up to speed. A powerful wave washed over her, and unable to resist the pull, Fran returned to the darkness.

  Back inside fevered sleep, she continued to fight the battle. A few times, when breaking through the conscious barrier, she noticed a warm hand around her own and sighed with the comfort of her mother’s touch, before fading back into her world of dreams. When able to stay awake for several minutes, Fran took small sips of ginger tea or water before her heavy head fell back onto her pillow. Now and then she’d wake to the perfunctory hands of Ema poking and prodding, bathing her face, and tucking the linens, but didn’t dare open her eyes for fear she’d be forced to drink more bitter potions. Her body began to acclimate to the new normal and soon nightmares faded and fitful sleep returned.

  When the voices of her mother and Ema discussing her progress roused Fran, she untangled her brain from the depths. A cool breeze passed through the window and Fran rolled to her side to catch the fresh air on her cheek. She lay quiet, not wanting to disrupt the conversation and tried to keep her eyelids from fluttering.

  “If I would have known about her near-drowning, I would have never given her such a heavy detox dose.” Ema’s voice, although cloaked with the formality of medicine, carried a worried tone.

  Fran’s muscle tensed. Retter told?

  “All in all, she’s done well, Ruth. We just need to make sure she doesn’t overdo it when she comes around.”

  “I’ll be sure to keep a close
eye on her,” Mom responded.

  Ema chuckled. “Yes. Good luck with that.”

  Fran kept her lids closed until she heard them shuffle out of the hut. With a sigh, she cracked open her eyes just enough to allow a small shaft of daylight to enter her dark world. Although sensitive to the sunlight, she didn’t notice the usual intensity of the accompanying headache, so she dared to fully lift her lids.

  Another breeze hastened through the window and brushed her cheek. On a yawn, she drew in a large lungful of sweet, dewy air and stretched her arms out wide, feeling rested like she’d just woken from a midday nap.

  I’m done!

  Flooded with relief, Fran tore at the blanket and sat up to inspect her surroundings.

  She looked at the line of cots and noticed Marie had been released. A smile spread across her face and she stood, eager to find her ward from her days at the Ranch. Had Marie begun to sing again? And what had become of Fiona, Fran’s first ward to exit Impervious? Her smile grew, remembering team-Fran, and she wondered if John and Bob would be joining them soon.

  As she took a step forward, the room began to sway, and Fran lurched toward the doorway to grab onto the wooden threshold.

  “Oh … No, no, no, dear.” Ema seemed to appear out of nowhere. She placed a strong shoulder under Fran’s free arm and assisted her back toward her bed. “You’re not quite ready for the great outdoors.”

  Although frustrated with her weakness, Fran felt grateful for the support and allowed Ema to lead her back into her bed.

  “When can I go home?”

  Ema clucked and tsked as she fluffed Fran’s pillow and readjusted the blanket. “I’m glad to hear you’re ready to go, but we need to rehydrate you before we turn you loose. You’ve lost so much fluid, you know.” Ema indicated the nearby bucket before handing Fran a cool cup of water. “Drink up, dear.”

  Fran nodded and drank deep from the water vessel. The sooner she got out of this place, the better.

  Chapter 9

  FRAN

  Fran sat on the edge of her cot picking at the bowl of fresh berries Tanya had just dropped off. It had been hours since her first exit attempt. She gazed out the window feeling like a prisoner as she watched the villagers scurry about for dinner prep.

  “How about now, Mrs. Ema?”

  Ema looked up from across the room where she and Tanya worked together tucking fresh linens onto the empty cots. “Oh my, you are a feisty one,” Ema muttered while shuffling around the cots and over to Fran.

  Ema’s thorough inspection came with a series of “mm hms,” She brushed a hand along the side of Fran’s cheek, and then moved away to her medicine counter. Fran cringed at what might follow.

  “Here, dear, take this with you.” Ema said, returning with a bulging water satchel.

  Fran’s opened wide. “Yeah?” She slung the long cord from the supple hide around her neck and the bag rested on her hip.

  “And make sure you continue to hydrate,” Ema added while shooing Fran from the hut.

  Freedom.

  Fran took off and moved through the center of the village, scanning the surrounding cottages, hoping to see Chan on the perimeter. As her eyes jumped from cabin to cabin, she felt a sense of déjà vu. That’s odd. Why hadn’t she noticed it before?

  The layout of this place. A central gathering area. Residences encircling the hub. She turned in a slow circle and took it all in before woofing out raspy laugher. Not much difference in the schematics from one city to the next, she decided. With that in mind, she ventured out to see how far the similarities went. She walked through an opening between two cottages and found the bones for a new structure being erected behind them. Yep. Row two.

  A tapping overhead caught her attention. She lifted her eyes to the source, and found Ret straddling the roof, swinging a hammer. Seriously. Is there anything he doesn’t do? Then she remembered the conversation she’d overheard between her mom and Ema. The one that implicated Ret as an informant. Heat crawled up her neck and she turned on her heels.

  Not in the mood.

  She moved away from the work in progress to a neighboring cottage. As she neared, the aroma of newly cut pine filled the air. Fresh and clean with smoky undertones. Eyes closed, she breathed deep, wanting to fill herself with the heady aroma.

  “Wolf.”

  Her eyes sprang open. Chan stood in the doorway.

  Seeing him face to face like this, she suddenly felt unsure of herself. Chan had put her in charge when he fell to the Beast, and she hadn’t been able to keep the Rebels safe. She had failed him.

  “I tried, Chan. I really tried.” Fran looked away. She couldn’t let him see the shame she carried.

  Chan moved from the threshold to where she stood. “I’ve heard pieces.” He lifted her chin. “Tell me what happened in the game.”

  His dark eyes seemed to reflect the lights from the city, and Fran was transported back.

  “Marcus. He baited me. Us.”

  In her mind, Fran could hear the united battle cry of her brothers and sisters and remembered how she had promised them all freedom.

  “We surrounded the Agora, ready to storm. But then, the lights had gone out. And the game had begun.”

  Fran closed her eyes.

  “We were nothing more than gaming avatars to the audience. Covered in magnetic dust. We couldn’t hide. And then …”

  A hot tear burned her cheek.

  “Folsom. We lost Folsom,” Fran’s voice rose with emotion.

  She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, but didn’t register comfort. She was lost in the Agora. Hearing the screams of her comrades. Watching them drop to the ground. Wispy tendrils of smoke lifting from their bodies.

  And Pete.

  She opened her eyes. She couldn’t go there again.

  Chan patted her shoulder. “Wolf. Let it go. I wasn’t expecting you to save the entire city.”

  Chan dropped his hand and stepped back. “No, to right this wrong, it’s going to take some bigger guns.” He began to walk away. “Come on.”

  Fran watched his purposeful strides for a moment before hurrying after him.

  “Wait, where are we going?”

  “To the creator.”

  She followed Chan across the clearing to Doc’s cottage with a nervous sensation in her belly. In a blur of a moment, they were sitting at the table with Doc, a mug of warm ginger tea in hand, Ema scurrying in the background reminding Fran to, “Drink up.”

  “So, what brings the Wolf and her mentor to my home today?” Doc asked once they were all settled.

  Chan acted as spokesperson. “We’re here to relinquish our old Rebel status, so to speak.”

  Fran lifted a brow. Not quite what she was expecting to hear. “Um, Chan?”

  Chan held a hand up to Fran and smiled at Doc. “We’re here to join the team. Fight the fight. Tell us what we need to know.”

  Doc shook his head. “I appreciate your passion, Charles, but the Nanobot science is a bit more complex than you know.”

  “I’m sure it is. And we can’t just let them fester underground,” Chan said. “Tell him about what you saw, Wolf.”

  Fran sat up a little straighter in her chair unsure what Chan wanted her to say. “Something new that’s developed since you left is what’s known as Esteemed Forfeiture, Doc.” She attempted to sound intelligent. Talk to Doc on his level. “Esteemed Forfeiture is a practice in which Impervious juvies offer early Forfeiture in exchange for six months of antidote to stave off the Beast.”

  “Beast?”

  “She means the decline, Doc,” Chan corrected.

  Fran thought of Sasha in her death throes and a shudder ran through her body.

  Doc responded with calm authority. “DNA markers, fluorescent labeling, and wireless broadcast signals are only a part of how the Nanobots altered our beings.” He shook his head and dropped his hands to his sides. “At this point, we’re all half-man and half-robot bred by the Council. Droids, really.”

  “D
roids?” Fran lifted her hands and stared at her palms. Her skin seemed to look okay, and there were no extra fingers or anything. She flipped them over and examined the backs before dropping them under the table.

  “The detox system Ema employed on you negates the charge from Bots,” he continued. “They’re rendered useless.” Doc pushed away from the table and stood. He moved behind Chan and placed his hands onto her mentor’s shoulders.

  “But don’t be fooled, brother. They still lurk in the bloodstream, waiting for resurrection.”

  Doc continued to circle the table until returning to his own chair. “If those dormant soldiers were exposed to the Impervious energy source—Bam!” He slapped his hands together, and Fran jumped. “The sleepy warriors could repower. Reactivate.”

  Fran must have looked confused, because Doc sighed and said, “Your DNA signal would recharge upon entry. You could light up their screens like stars in the night.”

  “Wait, recharge? Seriously?” Fran pushed her chair back and stood. “Seriously!?”

  Every single one of them consumed Impervious water. If what Doc said was true, and the bots could reboot inside of the city, that meant no one could re-enter.

  Even as she reeled from this news, she never dreamed she’d hear what Chan said next.

  “So we let them all die.”

  Doc shook his head. Was he resigning?

  “Wait, what?” Fran’s voice rose. “No way!” She thrust her hands onto her hips. “No way do we leave everyone behind.”

  “I know!” Doc shouted back. “Hence. My. Testimony!”

  The room became very quiet. Ema patted her husband’s trembling hand. “Tell her the rest, dear.”

  Doc slumped back into his chair. “Not everyone is infected.” He turned to face them. “Yet, that is. Hormones act as the trigger. Gets the whole process up and running.”

  “The Age of Accountability.” For a moment his eyes gazed over Fran’s shoulder, lost in the old world. Then, as if suddenly waking, he nodded to Fran. “And you did some good work on the inside … spreading the word …” he waved a hand around, “My diary.”