Golden Dreg Boy, Book 1

by D. K. Dailey

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— I was—”

  Wiping her eyes, she sniffles and walks away. “They can’t admit they’re failing to catch criminals, so sometimes they stop posting listings so people f-forget.” She stutters on the last word, turning it into a sob.

  We walk in silence until we reach the door of a new apartment. She enters the code, the door opens and we walk in. Same floor plan as the other studio, identical in every way, down to the red wall color.

  “Window shades down.” She commands and drags her feet onto one of the beds, plops down fully clothed, and pulls the blankets over her head. It’s still morning, I’m not tired, so I think about nothing and everything at the same time.

  She’s facing away from me, so I don’t know whether she’s sleeping or silently crying. For a while, her shoulders remain still and then she curls up like a baby. Soon, sniffles tell me she’s crying, and this makes me feel horrible.

  I’m useless. I don’t know what to say. No “sorry for your loss” or “time heals all wounds.” Her mother died in front of her. What do you say to that? To someone who watches a loved one speak their last words and take their last breath?

  If she was my baby sister or my mom, I would hold her and let her cry on me. Rub her back or her head in comfort. I would let her share and be there for her emotionally.

  Could I offset her feelings of loss with another strong emotion? Tell her that I have fallen in love with her? No, this isn’t the right time. Of course, I’m being stupid, falling in love with somebody who probably doesn’t love me back.

  From the first moment in the market, she had me. What is that old, old saying? She had me at hello. Well, Saya had me at, So why should I care? Loving her has been an uphill battle since then, and I’ll gladly continue to climb the hill until I reach the top. But right now, she doesn’t need my confusing emotions bogging her down. What she needs is food and rest.

  I close my eyes but don’t sleep. Exhausted, she snores after a little while. Hours pass with my mind reeling about who my biological parents are and about people being taken, and then my stomach gives up on me and growls. In the twilight, I head to the fridge. Saya said they’re stocked weekly. Let’s hope that’s true.

  The skinny silver fridge is packed with tons of micro meals. I choose chicken and rice. I don’t bother to wake Saya. I’ll make her eat after the smell wakes her. I press the heating buttons on each meal, and soon the aroma of food wafts through the tiny apartment. She grumbles from under her blankets.

  Placing the meals on my bed, I lean over her and tap her shoulder.

  “I’m not hungry.” She wraps the covers tighter around her.

  “Don’t make me force you.”

  She stills.

  “I let you sleep. Now you eat.”

  Sitting up, she peers at me. Her red-rimmed eyes are like a puppy’s—innocent and vulnerable—and her brown face is slightly ashen. I focus on my food. After a few minutes, I manage, “You were knocked out. You snored.”

  “Having feelings is draining.” She sighs.

  “It definitely is. But isn’t pretending not to have them just as exhausting?”

  “Ha, ha.” Taking her meal, she settles down to eat, absently chewing. “When someone dies or, in this case, kills themselves, you get flashbacks of your time with them. The last thing you said, the last thing they said. They start to live only in your memories. It’s unbearable.” Sadness coats her voice, dipping it low.

  I try to reply but remember what my mom said: Sometimes you have to let people vent and not respond. Just be supportive. Mom’s advice has turned out to be much better than Dad’s, so I remain silent.

  “I thought being taken was the same as being dead, but it’s not. It’s so much worse. The dead never come back. I’m not positive where they go, if they can see us or listen when they’re gone, but I’m positive they never come back. The Taken don’t come back either.” Her hands shake unsteadily, and she balls them in her lap before looking up at me.

  I open my mouth again to tell her it’ll be okay, but I’m not positive it will be. I don’t know how losing someone you care about feels. She must be torn from the loss and worn out from crying, along with a million other emotions I’ve never felt.

  “If you shut someone out for long enough, you don’t recognize how much you care about them.” Her voice breaks, and she stares into her lap and wrings her hands. “How much losing—losing them…” She sniffles.

  Then my hands act on their own. They reach for her—a come-here-want-a-hug gesture—and, to my surprise, she slides over to my bed and lays her head on my chest.

  I wrap my arms around her and lie back on the bed. Her honeybun aroma mingles under my nose like it did in the market when we first met. Comforting her at this moment makes my mind wander into X-rated territory—I can’t help it, I swear—but I quickly refocus once Saya breaks down in tears again. I can’t think of anything else after that except how much she’s hurting and how much I wish I could make the pain go away.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  We make it to the new place the next morning, and Saya and I waste no time telling Pike about the rest of the intel my father provided since the raid intel was true. How Pike was right about the government using genomic data to weed out Dregs from society. How Goldens are weaker, and how Dad is charged with finding a solution.

  I tell him about the Begotten, too. How the cop who questioned me said Emmaline was the only Begotten, a “research project” created from parts of healthy Dregs, and about how my dad admitted there was more than one Begotten. To all our info, the older man simply says, “Just as I suspected.”

  A few days later, Pike gathers five teens I don’t know along with Zee, Isa, Rigo, Yimi, Saya, and I. Three other adults are there, too, including Carson, the inventor; Cherry, the supermodel; and Ping, the boxy-bodied lady.

  During training, she taught me a fighting move I’ll never forget. In her heavy Chinese accent, Ping said, “When all fail, you grab balls.” I took her words to heart during my fight with the cops at the center and fought dirty. Each person, I assume, has a specialty.

  Pike has put together an eclectic team. We were all picked for a reason. Each person

  Our new base of operations is a single-story, underequipped warehouse. With bathrooms and an office for Pike, it lacks a kitchen or rooms other than the main one and Pike’s office. The entire warehouse has a drywall ceiling, a glossy cement floor, and tan, textured granite walls. In the office, everyone talks in small groups as some sit on the few wooden stools available. Others stand, anticipating what the next step is.

  Pike calls the meeting to order, his face somber. “As you have heard, five people were taken in the most recent raid, and Mrs. Shelby died.”

  “Rest in paradise,” Cherry says.

  “Gone too soon.” Zee shakes his head.

  Saya’s eyes burn with tears.

  “Moment of silence, please,” Pike asks, and everyone bows their head. I do too, thinking good thoughts of Mrs. Shelby. “May she rest in paradise,” he finishes, and everyone looks up.

  The room thickens with emotion and doesn’t settle until Rigo breaks the silence. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Pike paces a bit before speaking slowly. “We have to infiltrate the system for change to occur.”

  “We’re breaking into Shaw Tech?” Saya asks.

  With careful intent, Pike gazes around at the faces staring back at him. “As I said before, they hold an annual gala to showcase their research work. It’s one of the methods they use to raise donations from Golden citizens.”

  The event is a huge deal for Shaw Technologies. The gala sends Dad into a frenzy of preparation every year. I would’ve debuted this year as his son and heir. If I were still Golden.

  “What that got to do with us?” Ping asks.

  “We need to break in for intel,” Pike replies.

  “You can’t do that with computer?” She points to the machine.

  “This is intel they woul
dn’t dare keep on their mainframe. It’s held in the security of their labs.” Pike pauses, and everyone looks around, wondering what he’s talking about.

  “This is what all my inventions were made for,” Carson adds. “This mission.”

  “I have roles for everyone in this room to play,” Pike divulges. “And we will make our move in a month.”

  “My face used to be plastered everywhere in the city. I think I should sit this one out.” I pause. “I’ll get you all killed if I go.”

  Pike’s silver-blue eyes graze mine. “I’ll have disguises for you and your partner. Besides, you’re the hub of this plan. You have to go.”

  “Yeah. That’s the whole reason we rescued your sorry ass,” Rigo interjects.

  I shoot him a glare, and Zee punches his arm.

  Pike stares the loudmouth down. “Keep your stupid comments to yourself. We’re a team.”

  Rigo looks away to focus on the ground instead.

  “You know how I work. No one is forced to stay, and no one is forced on missions other than the daily jobs assigned to you to keep our community functioning. Any of you can decline. This room consists of my top picks. There are sixteen of you here, but eight people will work for this job.”

  Everyone is focused on him. Some of them, like Ping, straighten their postures. Others, like Rigo, inch closer.

  “The teens are best suited to attend the gala. Dressing up as partygoers is their job. I need one couple.”

  Yimi’s hand shoots up first.

  Pike shakes his head. “Sorry. I need volunteers who look at least eighteen.”

  Yimi shrugs, his cheeks flush with color.

  Zee raises his hand next, and Pike shakes his head again. “Too many tattoos. We need a low-key couple. Besides, I want you on the outside.”

  Isa’s hand shoots up, and her gray eyes briefly meet mine. “I’ll partner with Kade.”

  I look at her, and her eyes sparkle with longing. I thought she liked me after that warning about Saya, but I dismissed her. Before, this kind of thing didn’t matter. Tons of girls liked me, and I was flattered. Now, no girl will stand in the way of Saya.

  “I need you to partner with Zee for another part of the plan. Zee, you up for it?” Pike pets the bottom of his beard.

  Seems like he has our roles picked out. This is a formality.

  “When have you known me to not be up for a challenge?” Zee smiles and walks the short way to Isa, pulling her into his arms. Pulling away, she crosses her arms over her chest and snorts. Laughs go up around the room.

  Pike shakes his head before proceeding. “Rigo, you’re by yourself, and Kade, you will be with Saya.”

  “But I—” she starts.

  “You’re in, aren’t you?” Pike raises a brow.

  “I am, but I’d like to—”

  “If you’re in, then you follow my lead and plan. I’ve figured out the details and know what’ll work in there. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” everyone answers except Saya. She nods.

  “Zee, Isa, Rigo, Saya, and Kade are in. I need three more volunteers.”

  The remaining hands in the room shoot up, and this makes me glad I’m around people who have each other’s backs and won’t go down without a fight. Pike picks Carson, Ping, and Cherry before dismissing the rest. The chosen gather in a tighter circle around the leader’s table.

  “Along with the glider, the devices we’ll be using will give us an advantage, thanks to Carson.”

  The inventor beams at the acknowledgment. “Glad you decided to use my prototypes.”

  “They’re genius, Carson,” Pike says, “especially with our limited access to supplies. It’s amazing what you’ve created.” He points to a bag on the same table. “I’ve collected a few weapons, too: stun grenades, knockout agents, knife boomerangs, night-vision goggles, and stun-protecting glasses.”

  “How’d you collect all that? They track purchases.” Carson sounds offended. I guess with his love of tinkering, he’s mad that he didn’t know about the additional equipment.

  “Over time and with several c-chips. We’ll strategize after lunch. Since the event is a month from now, we have time, but I want to be positive we cover everything.”

  The meeting breaks up on a new high. In a month, we will challenge the government on their turf. We will answer their raids with our own.

  However, the idea that my life could go back to what it used to be seems unrealistic. I’m in the position to make a difference in the lives of many if I participate in the Dreg war against Goldens.

  I can’t be selfish anymore. I can’t think of how much I miss Ems, my parents, Noodle, or my old life. I’m not Golden anymore. I’m Dreg. Plain and simple.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  A month later, my hands shake as we stand in line to enter Shaw Technologies. Tonight, we get what we need to take down the government.

  At sixty stories high, the skyscraper features archways and crafted ironwork that frame the building. Hundreds of silver-looking glass windows cover each story, providing magnificent views.

  A line forms at the front door. We receive a signal that the first part of the plan has worked seamlessly and the others are in position. Saya’s nervous, and so am I, although I try to hide it for her sake. Our part of the plan is the biggest.

  We wear our disguises—long-lasting, heavy-duty makeup and thin, clay electromagnetic masks—to hide our identities and allow us to pass through the facial scanners set in the front archway and join the party.

  The cold night air bristles at my neck, pushing the mask away from my face. Carson’s creation compresses thin clay over our features, allowing them to be altered.

  I cup my hands over my face and rub heat into my cheeks. For the contraption to hold, the compression points must stay connected to certain parts of our faces. The device uses body heat, so it’s critical we don’t stay outside in the September chill for too long.

  If it’s not one thing, it’s another. My face warms, but my wrist prickles. All of us have disposable c-chips implanted, another Carson invention.

  Saya complains her head itches under her long blond wig, and I’m thankful I didn’t have to cover my hair. But my eyes are irritated because of the color-altering contacts. We don’t look like ourselves at all. Saya is blond with green eyes and a chiseled face. She looks like an unusual-looking white girl. All my features are exaggerated: bigger eyes, higher cheekbones, full dimples. My normally straight nose now ends with a soft, beak-like tip. Brutal.

  We’re next in line to enter, so we step up to the table, right in front of the glass entrance doors. A woman dressed in a black-beaded gown that sparkles softly under the overhead lights asks, “Are you on the list?”

  “Yes,” we say.

  The man next to her holds up a scanner, and I stick out my wrist. He pauses. “What’s that cut from?”

  “A flutterboard scrape,” I say casually.

  He squints, his eyes slits. “Looks like someone purposely cut your wrist.”

  I can be nervous about this or act calm. If I were Golden, I’d probably be irritated by a security officer questioning me. No, I’d be downright insulted. “Just scan my wrist and see.”

  Saya elbows me lightly. I ignore her.

  “What’s wrong with your face?” The man’s shoulders square with mine.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s twitching.” I look into the building’s glass windows and my face has erupted into spasms. My nose wrinkles, and my mouth and eyes jerk uncontrollably. The worst part is I can’t feel it.

  Oh shucky, oh shucky, oh shucky! I am at a loss for words. I can’t act fine about my face twitching. The cold is causing the layer connecting my real facial points with the phony one to malfunction. I gaze at Saya, and her mask is fine.

  “He ticks when he’s nervous,” she cuts in. Putting her warm hands over my cheeks, she rises up on her toes in four-inch heels and kisses me on my lips, warming me. Soft sizzling fills my ears
as the mask snaps back into place, and I’m thankful for Saya’s quick reaction. Again.

  “And why would he be nervous?” The man adjusts his uniform collar with one hand and holds the scanner out with the other.

  “We’re meeting the premier tonight for the first time.” She beams up at me. Her white, knee-length cocktail dress accentuates her smile. Her black tights work to hide her brown hue and the pale-toned makeup on the rest of her body is supposed to stay on for hours. Even in disguise, she is beautiful.

  The man nods. “I’d be nervous, too. I’ve worked here for fifteen years and never met him.” He gestures for me to hold my palm out so he can scan my wrist.

  Reading the output, he keeps talking. “You’re only seventeen? Wade Smith…you here for your career choice?” He looks up from the glowing blue screen.

  I nod. Suddenly, he’s chatty.

  “Lab technician, eh? Must be real smart.”

  I smile. Let’s get this over with, already.

  Saya is next. “Sam Smith.” The guard frowns. “Boy’s name.”

  “It’s short for Samantha, of course.” Pike changed one letter in my first name and two in Saya’s so the fake ones wouldn’t be too far off from the truth. He said the trick about lying is to never make the lie too hard to remember. Make it close to the truth.

  “You two look like you’re married already?” The officer’s eyes flicker between us.

  “What’s with all the questions?” I ask, gaining back my bravado.

  He looks as if he’s going to apologize, but his counterpart cuts him off. “Are they cleared, Jones? We have a line forming.”

  “All clear.”

  Now we have breached Shaw Technologies, where the answers to all our questions lie. Once inside, we ride an elevator with four other partygoers: a couple and two single men. Saya stands in front of me, leaning back, and I become stiff. Being close to her in public is strange. Under-eighteen Dregs get away with touching and kissing because no one cares. But I’m not used to public displays of affection. Having her body so close is distracting to the mission and to me. I shake off my wandering thoughts and act like I belong.