Two Girls Book 2: One Nation

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Two Girls Book 2: One Nation Page 9

by Justin Sirois


  “No,” Penny said. “A guy opened it for me.”

  “Did he get a good look at your face?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Clint looked up at the security camera over the bar. “I don’t think that can see us where we’re sitting.”

  Penny sniffled. “I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.”

  Clint popped a few french fries in his mouth.

  “No you’re not,” he said. He took out his money and discretely wiped it of fingerprints. “I would have done the same. Hell, I ran away when I was your age. Slept in the back of a car for a weekend.” He turned his glass by spinning the coaster underneath it, looking for more fingerprints. “You just… you really can’t do it again, understand?”

  There was no need to say anything.

  A few people entered the bar and walked back to a table. Clint watched them through the mirror, hand inching closer to his pistol before stalling it.

  “You know my son loves you. He really does.” Clint stood, the takeout container in hand. Watching him in the mirror, the scene could have been mistaken for just another domestic evening. A father and daughter out for a bite. Clint looked up at the TV. “We have to go.”

  Penny didn’t move. “What if I don’t want to?”

  Clint’s face remained stern. “It’s the ninth inning. The news will be on next.”

  “So,” Penny said.

  “So,” Clint leaned over and whispered. “Nobody in this bar’s seen the new video yet, I’m assuming. My face is all over it. The reward for either of us is more than any of these people make in a decade.”

  Penny barely turned her head to him. “You’re drunk.”

  She could hear Clint breathed heavily out his nose. The takeout carton dented as his thumb pressed into the lid. “Penny. I want you to know that I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

  She snickered. Yeah, you’re here for me. Here to round me up and drag me back to the compound of freaks.

  “I’m your friend,” he said, but it was the way he said it that got to her. There wasn’t a hint of insincerity. And the sadness in his eyes told her that he was remorseful for letting Emmett Prince destroy her body. Maybe he understood the piece of her that was missing was more than just an arm. “And you should eat this burger before it’s cold because it was really, really good.”

  There was no way she was going to offer up a smile. She slid off her stool and walked to the exit.

  Clint waved to the bartender, the bill of his ball cap concealing his face. “Thank you.”

  Penny covered her hand in her hoodie sleeve when opening the door. Behind her, the ballgame cut to a commercial break, but a news anchor filled the room with her booming voice instead. Tonight, Secretary of Defense Xavier Davidoff formally responded to One Nation’s viral web series by officially designation the group a terrorist organization. More on that and other news at 11.

  “Penny, don’t look back,” Clint whispered as he wedged his foot against the door and opened it further. Outside, across the parking lot, under the hazy truck stop lights, a black van waited for them. The side door was already open. Two armed men sat in the back seat.

  Clint walked so close behind her she thought he might ram into her.

  Penny scowled. “This necessary?”

  “Yes,” he said, handing her the takeout box and motioning for her to climb inside. Penny rolled her eyes and sat on the bench seat, not acknowledging the driver or men behind her.

  Clint sat beside her and slid the side door closed. “We’re good.”

  The van started to roll away.

  Penny hid inside her hood, hoping no two would say anything. The men radioed to base that they were headed back. Neon light faded into darkness. Cool wind from the cracked front window. One of the men behind her snapped his rifle’s slide, securing a round into the chamber.

  Once they were on the road, Clint turned to her. “I’m never going to force you to go along with any of this.”

  She looked at him like he was the stupidest person on the planet. “Right, Clint. You’re not forcing me to do anything.”

  The beginning of a frown sagged one side of his mouth. Clint said nothing after that.

  Penny listened to the driver radio to base, speaking in some kind of cryptic mumble. The men in the back watched the road through the glassless back windows. One Nation was great at making the best of what they had. The van was probably bought used. By her knee, rough weld marks looked like worms over the reenforced paneling. No rear windows meant the men could shoot freely. Even the dashboard had a makeshift touchscreen showing the drones that followed them, six glowing beacons zigzagging above the trees.

  Penny slid out her claw and rested it on her leg.

  We clawed, we chained, our hearts in vain…

  The lyrics to that old song came to her.

  I came in like a wrecking ball…

  I never hit so hard…

  In love…

  The van’s headlights switched off and it turned onto a dirt road. Two drones dipped out of the trees and escorted them.

  “You can open the gate,” the driver said into his radio.

  …wrecking ball…

  Head down, Penny started to cry, quiet enough to hide it. A tear dropped onto her titanium arm. Wet on steel, the metal resisting her moment of weakness. Another tear rolled off it and onto her thigh. Penny wiped her eyes. Tried to keep quiet. And it wasn’t a surprise to her that all she wanted was her sister—the only person she trusted—the only Set that could understand her growing and limitless rage.

  CHAPTER 8

  Waiting at the main entrance, Sam watched the small, dark opening at the treeline. The dirt road leading from the highway was so understated that only a suspicious eye would notice it. In additional to No Trespassing and Private Property signs, One Nation even placed heavy branches in the way to dissuade curious people from exploring the land. Sam wondered if Clint was moving those branches now to make way for their return.

  Jill nervously twisted a knot in her hair as she stood beside her. “I can’t believe she did this.”

  Sam watched the drones circling overhead. Each of them would be recording Penny’s return. She imagined the 360 degree view that she could edit into a dramatic sequence—the van approaching—Penny getting out with her head down. “She’s going through a lot,” Sam said.

  “I know,” Jill said, finally leaving her twisted hair alone. “I wish I’d talked to her more. I thought she was doing good. Better, I mean.”

  “Me too,” Sam lied.

  About a dozen guards stood at attention. More crouched by the open gate, pointing their rifles at the treeline. Their commander watched a video feed on a wall-mounted screen where the van appeared, making its way through the woods. “Unit D, move out.”

  Six of the guards rushed outside, three on each side of the van’s path.

  Sam fingers crept up to the tiny recording device hidden under her collar. Instinct told her not to turn it on, but Alix’s insistent voice echoed in her head. As she saw the outline of the van appear from the darkness, she pressed the button, hearing a faint beep as it switched to record.

  Sam swallowed and turned to her mom. “Is Penny in trouble?”

  Jill didn’t answer.

  “With everything she’s been through, I don’t think she should be punished,” Sam added.

  “You’re not the parent here.” Jill sighed and put her arm around Sam. “You’re right, though. What she needs is someone other than her therapist who’ll listen to her.”

  “Perimeter’s secure. Not activity outside the shield,” the voice on the TV said. The van appeared at the treeline’s opening. It dipped and wobbled over the rough dirt trail. All six guards escorted the van to the entrance. Sam knew Alix was watching this unfold inside the media center, her team of editors and animators ready. The van parked with its side door facing the main gate and Clint appeared when the door slid open. He hopped out and offered Penny a hand, but she d
idn’t accept it. She walked with her head down to the entrance and tried to slip past Jill.

  Sam cringed as their mom grabbed Penny by the shoulders. “What were you thinking?” She saw Jill’s right hand release Penny first, probably unready for the dead-cold steel of her mechanical arm.

  Penny said nothing.

  Jill was quick to hug her, tight and squeezing. “Anybody could’ve seen you. You know what that means?”

  “Sorry,” Penny murmured.

  “You really scared us. All of us. Mason’s pretty upset.” Jill sniffled, but didn’t cry.

  The guards scrambled back inside the main gate after the van pulled in. Sam stepped aside. Clint reached back inside the van and got a takeout container that was on Penny’s seat. He handed it to Sam without saying anything and walked further into the base.

  Penny kept her face hidden. “Can I just go to my room?”

  “Huh?” Jill said, too quickly to be anything but reflexive. “…yeah. We’ll… we’ll talk in the morning. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

  Sam stood close enough to get all of this recorded. She felt gross, but not gross enough to stop. It looked as if Jill would hold Penny for as long as she would let her, but Penny slipped away as soon as it felt appropriate. Sam would have done the same. There probably wasn’t a single thing she would have done differently, including choosing the mechanical arm and running away.

  Penny’s footsteps echoed through the concrete hall as she walked away. Sam followed, catching up gradually. Whatever was inside the takeout container shuffled from side to side. Every security camera that she passed held the gaze of the media team with Alix calling the shots.

  “Pen,” Sam whispered. “Where did you go?”

  Penny gave no indication that she heard her.

  “That diner?” Sam asked. “You walk all the way there?”

  Penny slid off her hood and turned a corner toward her room. They passed a man mopping the floor and Sam apologized, tiptoeing while Penny walked straight through his work. He shrugged and dipped his mop into the gray water, watching Penny pass.

  Walking next to her sister now, Sam whispered again, “Mason, he’s kinda upset. Not mad. He’s not mad. Did you chop down a tree or something? Are you okay?”

  Penny stopped at her bedroom door, opened it, and walked inside. Knowing a security camera could see her just outside the room, Sam held the takeout container with both hands and waited.

  Penny pulled off her hoodie and sat on her bed.

  “You want this food?” Sam asked.

  Focused on the floor, Penny nodded. She looked more like a prisoner than a sibling. Sam walked in and closed the door, setting the container on the bed. “What happened?”

  Penny opened the container and lifted a cheeseburger to her mouth. Avoiding eye contact, she chewed slowly at first and then faster, obviously hungry. “Nothing, really.”

  Sam knew it might be hard getting her sister to talk. She plopped down on the bed as if there was no tension between them and leaned back. Letting her sister eat, Sam knocked a knuckle on Penny’s metal bicep. “You want me to take this off for you?”

  Penny swallowed and chewed and nodded.

  Sitting back up, Sam slid her thumbs into the two top grooves of Penny’s shoulder. This was something that she had learned on the day her sister chose that arm. Their instructor compared it to helping Penny unzip a dress, but both of them knew it would never be that casual. Once the top latches were unlocked, Sam did the same to the bottom two and twisted the arm forward to separate it from the shoulder socket.

  “It’s the other way. Pull back,”Penny said.

  “I keep forgetting,” Sam said, knowing she had done it on purpose to make Penny say something. “Still having pain?”

  Penny leaned forward as Sam cranked the arm back, hearing the hollow ping of the release. The arm made a low powering-down tone as the weight of it sagged into Sam’s hands. “Yeah,” Penny said. “Sometimes.”

  Sam laid the arm on the pillow beside her. What would have been solid gold was an overhead shot of this scene unfolding—the vulnerable sister finally being introduced at such a vulnerable moment—Sam helping her with the prosthetic that served more as an anchor than an aide. If their audience was already sympathetic to the two girls, then this would push them into complete empathetic territory. Sam hated herself for thinking this way. It was Alix in her head, always.

  Sam chuckled. “Did you really blow up a tree?”

  Chewing, Penny snickered. “Yeah. I feel kinda bad about it. It was kinda awesome, though.”

  “Mason said it was,” Sam lied. She traced her finger over the detached arm. It was then that she noticed one of Mason’s shirts peeping out from under Penny’s sheets—a little piece of him to hold at night. “Did he… do something?”

  Penny licked ketchup off her knuckle. “No, not really.”

  “Was he trying to…?” Sam asked.

  “What? Hook up?”

  Sam made sure the recording device was well-hidden. “Yeah.”

  Without the arm on, Penny sat a little lopsided. She turned to Sam. “He wants to.” She could only look at her sister for a second before turning away. Penny was always shy with this kind of information.

  “Do you?” Sam asked.

  Penny’s sad eyes ran down the length of her prosthetic. “Yeah. Sure. I mean, I do.”

  Sam didn’t know if she should ask, but she couldn’t help herself. It was impossible to hide the jealousy in her voice. And, if Penny heard a bit of that jealousy, maybe she would open up more. “Have you yet?”

  “No,” Penny half-whispered.

  Sam thought carefully about what she should say. If she was too pushy, Penny would shut down or even suspect she was up to something. Too coy and her sister wouldn’t reveal anything at all. “I like to think that, if we weren’t attacked that night, you and Mason would be fine.” Sam drew circles in the blanket. “Ya know?

  Penny nodded.

  “I think about it all the time,” Sam added, watching her sister in the corner of her eye.

  Penny held her brow in her hand. Sniveled and breathed deep. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” And maybe saying that sent her over the edge because she started to cry in big heaving sobs.

  Sam sat back up and put her arm around Penny’s shoulder, keeping the tiny hidden recorder positioned to capture everything they said, the coldness of Penny’s metal shoulder socket further reminding her how this injury had changed her sister. The long scar along the left side of her scalp a reminder that Prince nearly took her head off as well as her arm. “What part?”

  Breath stuttering, Penny fought back more heaving. “I can’t believe I didn’t die.” Saying that made her choke up even harder.

  Sam squeezed her hard with both arms, but let go to make sure what they said could be recorded. “We both should have. Both of us.” She let Penny cry. Sam watched her sister try to catch her breath, thinking she might hyperventilate at one point, but she slowly calmed down. She sobbed for three full minutes while Sam rubbed her back. That could be edited down later.

  Penny finally looked at her. “Why do you think he shot me first?”

  This was something Sam had thought a lot about, but could never come up with a believable answer. Prince had time to choose. He had approached them. Lifted his pistol. It was dark, but he could see them well enough to distinguish between their physical differences. Maybe his aim was random, though nothing about Gray Altar or their people was. Had he seen something in Penny he wanted to punish first or had he seen something in Sam he wanted to spare? There was no telling. And her sister was caught in a spiral of trying to figure out the impossible. Sam drew the same circles she had on the blanket on her sister’s back and stopped herself. “I dunno,” she finally said.

  “I can’t get him out of my head,” she choked. “It’s like I can see him shooting me over and over.”

  Sam wasn’t surprised. They had shared the same visions all their lives. Similar
dreams and thoughts—impulses and needs.

  “I dream about it too,” Sam said, not lying this time. Her eyes filled with tears. “But he’s dead, Pen. We killed him. He’s gone.”

  Penny paused and sagged as if she wanted Sam to hold her. “I want to know.”

  “Know what?” Sam said.

  Penny looked back up at her. “Who shot him.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked. And now she knew that this conversation was essential to the web series. Even if they couldn’t get Penny on camera for an interview, this could be overlaid with the scene of Prince shooting at them.

  Penny’s look of desperation nearly crushed Sam—this was the same question that she had weeks ago before she forced herself to watch the footage of that night. She had rewound it a dozen times to make sure that they had both fired at the same time, like they had practiced in middle and high school. Two bullets, one bullseye. And Sam watched Prince’s head burst like a pumpkin thrown off a front porch. Alix confirmed that only two bullets could have done damage that severe. “Me or you…,” Penny finally said.

  “It was both of us,” Sam said. “We have proof of that.”

  Penny wiped her eyes. “How do you know though? What if one of us hit him first?” A tremble shot through her. She tightened her eyes closed.

  “We both shot him. That’s all that matters.”

  “No.” Penny poked her forehead with her index finger until she winced. “What if my bullet hit him first?”

  “What does it matter?” Sam asked.

  “It matters. It matters to me.” Penny rubbed the place on her forehead that she had poked. “We’re not perfect, ya know. We’re not even Sets. One of us hit him first.”

  Overhead, the intercom system clicked on. “Security alert over. I repeat, the security alert is over. All guards and staff please return to regular duty.”

  Penny sighed hard enough to make her shutter and catch her breath. She busied herself with taking off her sneakers and then her socks.

  Sam rubbed Penny's back and squeezed her again, wondering where she could steer the conversation. People would want to know more about her and Mason—if her augmentation was the reason why she couldn’t get close to the man she loved or was it the trauma from losing her arm. Coming directly from her, it would have much more impact.

 

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