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“Tanner.” The man nods, shortly. Tanner relaxes and steps aside.
“It’s okay, Mir. It’s Henri Lee.”
The man smiles and extends his hand to me. I slowly place mine in his, and he squeezes quickly before letting it go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mira. Your friend sent a message after you were chosen, and I came as soon as I could.”
Friend? My mind stutters to a stop. That’s all we are? Friends? Wait, I guess I deserve that. Friends is what I claimed we are to Mr. Flannigan, as well. I glance at Tanner, but he looks away.
Henri Lee doesn’t seem to notice. “He told me you’d like to get out of this mess.”
“No!” The little cabin in my dream disappears, and all I’m left with is echoing laughter that sounds eerily like my dead little sister. No, my fate is different. I have to keep Max safe. The two men share a look. “I’m not leaving.”
Henri Lee looks surprised. “You want to die?”
“Of course not!” What is he talking about? Alessa singsongs in my head “You’re a dead girl. You’re a dead girl.” I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the wind.
“That’s what’s going to happen to you if you don’t come with me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Henri Lee takes a step forward. His smile morphs into a sneer, and his eyes narrow. “They treat ReGenesis like it is all some wonderful thing, tell everyone that the Seconds will be making a difference in the world, have an important destiny.” Which is exactly what Mr. Flannigan said. “They’re lying. Your great destiny is death. But if you ask them, they’ll say it’s worth it to have peace, to have prosperity, that it’s better for the whole. What’s one servant girl when millions benefit from her death?”
I back up until I feel a tiny bump from the arms of a cross against the back of my legs. “No,” I whisper. “That’s crazy. They wouldn’t dare…”
His arm snakes forward, and he grabs my elbow. “You’re more of an idiot than they are if you believe they’d let a Texan be free.”
I try to jerk away, but he holds me tightly. “Tanner?” My eyes dart to him, and I can see that he’s tense. I guess this isn’t part of the deal.
Tanner steps forward. “It’s all right, Henri. Let go of her, she’s not going to do anything stupid,” he growls but entreats me with his eyes, begging me not to do said stupid thing.
Henri Lee makes a low grumble in return, but he unclenches his grip.
I finally pull away, rubbing my wrist.
Tanner clears his throat. “This… isn’t going well. Please, just listen to him, Mira. He’s telling the truth.”
“He can’t be. That isn’t possible. They wouldn’t… wouldn’t… they wouldn’t just kill kids like that.”
“Why not?” Henri asks, his voice sarcastic, like he’s making fun of me, but I don’t know the joke. “Do you think the government cares about a few, insignificant brats when Firsts are so popular? Think, girl. They don’t give a damn about you. You’re just an object to them, worth less than a cow or a horse. Your ancestors fought in the Immigration War. You wouldn’t even be alive if the government didn’t allow it. They get more use out of the chickens in the hen house than you. You’re nothing to them unless you’re chosen.”
“Please stop,” I whimper, looking to Tanner for support.
He’s frowning. Is this the person he thought would convince me to run away? He’s doing a terrible job; that’s for sure.
Henri reaches for me again, and I shake my head. He must read how ready I am to bolt because he stops. “Mira.” He glances at Tanner, who shakes his head. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm his voice. “I’m sorry if I’m scaring you, and l wish I could explain it better, but I can’t. We have to take advantage of this opportunity because it won’t happen again. You’re lucky it’s Socrates who chose you. Most of the other Firsts take their Seconds right away.” Like my cousin, Adrian.
I turn to Tanner. “How can you trust this guy?” I quickly look back at Henri, who just stands there, waiting.
“Do you see any other way? This is our best chance to be together.” But is that what I want? I shake my head. Wait, but if what this guy says is true? No, it can’t be.
I look back at Tanner again. “How can you know that? Do you even know who he is for sure?”
Tanner clenches his jaw. “I trust him. Isn’t that enough?” His tone is accusing. He asked me to trust him before, like it should be a given because of our past, because of how much he cares for me. But nothing is the same any more. Do I even know who Tanner really is?
“You expect me to just go with this guy, who I’ve never met before, to wherever it is he wants to take me? I can’t.”
“Please.” Tanner reaches out for me.
I shake my head and step back again, feeling another cross tilt behind me. I bend to straighten it, and the world explodes.
The playground floods with light. About a dozen men in black surround us, shouting at us to get down. My mind freezes, and lowering my eyes to avoid the glare, I see heavy boots trampling the faded dolls, tipping over the sun-bleached pink tea table, snapping the arms off of any pint-sized crosses in their path. Splinters fly into the silvery grass. What have I done?
The guards shove their way between the three of us, forcing us apart as they wave deadly shiny laser guns. Masks cover their faces, and body armor protects their torsos. They wrench Tanner away, and I can’t see him anymore. I fight the arms holding me, but they’re like steel bands.
My legs give out, and I’m only being held up by the armed men on either side of me. Some of the guards carry huge laser guns, but others have sticks with buzzing prongs at the end. I try to scream, but terror has robbed my lungs of air. Two men pull Henri Lee’s arms perpendicular to his body while a third searches him.
A fourth guard with the wide face of a bullfrog pulls a small object out of his own pocket and throws it to the ground at Henri’s feet. “Sir, I found something.”
The guard who was searching Henri stops, pulls his off mask, and wipes the sweat from his brow. His hair, buzzed off to peach fuzz, is almost invisible. He has a strong, athletic build, not very different from the field workers on the farm. He looks at where Bullfrog is pointing, nudges the object with his boot, then looks up at me. “Looks like we saved your life.”
“What? No! I saw him—” I point at Bullfrog. “—pull that thing out of his pocket and drop it on the ground.”
“Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Buzzcut sneers. “It’s too dark to see anything clearly. You’re imagining things.”
“No, I’m not! I know what I saw.”
“Shut up! Don’t you think you’re in enough trouble already without backtalk?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Bullfrog raises his hand to slap me, but Buzzcut grabs his wrist. “No, it’s not worth it. Where she’s going, she’ll get far worse anyway.” He nods at the two goons holding my arms, and they pull me backward.
“What? Where are you taking me?”
A thin silver band strapped to Buzzcut’s wrist beeps. He puts his ear to it, then shouts, “The transport’s ready. Let’s go.”
In the space of a few heartbeats, the throng of bodies clears enough for me to see Tanner strung between two of the other guards. When he sees me, he wrenches one arm loose and reaches out for me. One of his guards punches him in the gut, and Tanner collapses to the ground with an “Oomph.”
Buzzcut calls out, “Avery.” When Bullfrog turns, Buzzcut slices his hand across his throat, then jerks his head toward Tanner and Henri Lee.
“No!” I scream and fight, kicking and punching at my captors, but it’s no use. Compared to them, I’m no stronger than a newborn colt. They spin me around, so I can’t see anything.
Behind m
e, something pops, a muffled sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. Then there’s another, and another, then silence. “Tanner?” Nothing.
“Shut up!” one of my guards yells. “Stupid Texan.” He wrenches on my arm so hard I gasp. I start to wobble, my legs give out, and I sag to the ground, held up only by the iron fingers around my upper arms. “Tanner!” I scream again. There still isn’t an answer. “No!”
“Mira?” His voice is strained, gasping.
I sob in relief. “Are you okay?” I wrench my head around and see him, bloodied and bruised. When he sees my face he struggles harder.
“Mira!”
“Let me go!” I throw myself forward, backward, kick out with my legs, anything to get free. But it’s no use. They might as well have tied me between two trees for all the leverage I get.
The guard on my left tightens his bruising grip on my arm. “Let’s go.” Behind me, I hear more muffled noises, ompfs, thumps, and grunts.
“Tanner?” Silence.
No, please, not him. Not Tanner. Please not Tanner.
The men jerk to a halt when we get to the edge of the lawn. Buzzcut instructs two of the other guards to break off and search the area before we move forward again. Numb, I hang between them, so much dead weight.
After the two scouts give an all clear, we cross the lawn and enter the courtyard, which is lit up like midday. People stand in their doorways and look out their windows. My mom’s there and so are Tanner’s parents. I can’t tell for sure, but I think my mother’s crying, probably because she’s horrified by the scene I’ve caused. Sorry for making your life miserable, Mom. I try to dig in my heels, turn my head, anything at all to see if Tanner’s behind me, to see if he’s okay, but the men drag me to the manor before I can do more than squeak.
We stop in front of the manor as the Chesanings come out and talk to Buzzcut. I take a second to catch my breath and gasp, “Where are you taking me?”
“Your new home,” he growls, and a couple of the others laugh.
A sick, cold feeling roots itself in the pit of my stomach.
I dig in my heels, and Bullfrog nudges me toward the back door by the kitchen. “Move it,” he snarls.
Two more guards frame the doorway, guns ready, while Buzzcut and Bullfrog shove me into the huge, stainless steel and tile kitchen. They hurry me through doors on the right to a small room where an egg-shaped tarnished silver pod sits in the corner, amid bins of flour, jars of vegetables, and cans of preserves. I peer around them, trying to look out the door, but all I can see is the darkened kitchen.
“Get in,” Bullfrog snaps and pushes me into the pod. A second later he joins me, clenching my arm tightly in his. The door whooshes shut, and there’s a bright flashing that blinds me. A sudden shifting of the ground flattens me to the back wall, and I can’t move. Bullfrog doesn’t seem to notice.
“What’s going on?” I shout over a loud rushing sound, like air around my ears, moving faster than I’ve ever travelled before.
“Will you just shut up!” He snarls and cuffs me on the back of the head. I reach up to touch the spot, and the sound is gone. My feet touch the ground again, and my stomach stops roiling. I close my eyes. All I can think of is the look of anguish on Tanner’s face. The soft pop. Heaving, wracking sobs shake my entire body.
“Get over yourself, princess.” Buzzcut smirks. The door slides open, and armed guards glare at me over poised weapons. The walls are a cold stone gray, bleak and foreboding. In front of me, Mr. Flannigan is being forced down a long hall, arms wrenched tightly behind him in painfully thin metal cuffs. He cranes his head around and fear widens his tiny eyes. Sweat beads his forehead, his mustache quivers, his red hair is mussed, and he sets his lips into a firm, thin line. Wherever I am, I’m not going to like it.
After they force him around the corner, they lead me down another hall. Through barred doors on either side of me, silent eyes witness my trek. We turn toward another hall, opposite the one Flannigan went down and pass more doors with no windows. From these, I hear muffled moans. Cries of pain and despair rival those of the little mangy fox I freed back at the farm. Ahead of us, an unsmiling man wearing a black uniform and a silver visor holds a door open. When we reach it, the men nod at each other, and then Buzzcut shoves me inside.
I stumble almost to my knees, terrified but glad to be free of them. Maybe they don’t think I’m much of a threat. I spin around, somewhat wobbly, looking around at my new surroundings. With no windows, the only light comes from the doorway. An old-fashioned toilet crouches in one corner, but that’s it. No bed, no chair. Nothing.
The door starts to close, and I rush toward it. “Wait! You can’t leave me here!”
Bullfrog chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone. There are plenty like you in these halls.” The door closes a little more and my heart leaps into my throat.
“Don’t! Please don’t leave me here!”
A wide grin slices his face in half. “I’m the least of your problems, princess. Welcome to your new life.” The door slams shut. Darkness.
People Like You
Socrates
When the phone rings in the middle of the night, I roll over and feel around for the old handset that rests on the nightstand next to my bed. Gnarled hands twisted and shaking, I fumble until I hit the correct button to answer it. “Hello?” Maybe I should get one of those damn implants that are so popular these days.
“Socrates?” I don’t recognize the high-pitched, nasally voice. Definitely female, definitely annoying enough to start a headache throbbing behind my temples.
I groan, and with my free hand, rub the old scars, my own peculiar crown permanently etched into my head. “Who the hell is this?”
“It’s Edith Antinov, secretary to—to Mr. Edward Flannigan.”
I jerk upright, old bones protesting. Oh hell, this must be bad for that mouse of a woman to call me. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s… he’s been arrested.” Her voice breaks into a sob at the end, and my hand clenches around the handset.
I pull it away from my ear for a second and look at it. “Edward’s been arrested?”
“Y—yes.” She sniffles, and in the background, she blows her nose, a deep honking sound.
“For what?” The man practically lives in Washington. He knows when to talk and when to shut the hell up. Whatever pain pills the doctors gave me make my stomach roil and ache, and I feel bile rising in my throat.
“They’re saying that—that he’s one of them.” She sniffles again on the other end of the line. I’ve only met the woman once. She’s petite, with pinkish red hair, a hawkish nose she never bothered to get fixed, and an icy demeanor. It must be bad if she’s falling apart.
“One of whom? You’re not making any sense.” Good Lord, Edward, what have you done?
“A… rebel, sir. A Lifer.”
I pull the handset away from my ear and stare at it, the words sinking in. He can’t be. No, Edward wouldn’t be that stupid. I’ve known him for what? Forty years now? He’d never make a mistake like that. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve known Edward almost his entire life. He’d never do anything like that. Where is he now?”
“Fullbright Detention Center. And… and that’s not all, sir. Your Second…”
A cold, icy feeling replaces the ache. “By the love of God, woman, what happened to her?”
“She’s with him, sir. She tried to escape with some rebels. They arrested her, too.”
“Shit.” An old juvenile detention center, Fullbright is made of cold metal lines, gray cement walls, cameras, and various military officials who specialize in “re-education.” Not a pleasant place.
“Thanks for letting me know, Edith. I’ll place a phone call as soon as we hang up to see if I can help. Edward is a good man. I’ll see what I can do.”
After gathering my thoughts, I pull myself upright and leave the bedroom, walking down the long, darkened hall. Ben sighs, gets to his feet, and follows me, his nails clicking on the smooth red tile. On my left is a series of portraits of me in my various incarnations. First, I was Adam with my dark hair and his mother’s eyes. He may have been the oldest of them—twenty when he was in the accident—but he was still merely a babe. Second was Alyxander with his wavy blond hair, an eighteen-year-old who suffered leukemia before there was a cure, then Rachel with bright red curls, green eyes, and freckles on her upturned nose. She attempted suicide and when she survived, volunteered rather than seek treatment. She got her wish, and I got to live seventy-four more years in her body. My fourth Second was the youngest I’d ever taken and the first since the Immigration War—Donovan, an eleven-year-old. After Donovan was Milissa, whose dark brown eyes and hair reminded me of fondue chocolate. I stop in front of the last painting. Curly gold hair springs from the youth’s head, and his eyes, tilted at the corners, hint at a wisdom belying his age. His smile is that of Hercules, handsome and self-assured in his own body. When I chose Stephen, he was nervous and never smiled. But I can still see his chest puff up with pride when he spoke the words, and he never looked back. He truly understood the process to be a better destiny, a worthy sacrifice. On the day of the Exchange, he faltered a bit, and his hands shook when he pulled himself up onto the hospital bed, but I overlooked that. We are all allowed our moments of fear, especially at the end.
My eyes move automatically to the empty space next to Stephen’s portrait. A light has already been installed for an image of me as Mira, which will be commissioned after I’ve recovered from the procedure. Ben whines and leans into my hand. I scratch behind his ears. At least I have one friend I can trust.