Unnatural (The Unnatural Saga Book 1)

by Jakob Farrar

  “Believe me, I know,” Stephen said, not letting the girl go. She was sobbing into his shoulder.

  “I thought you were dead,” she said, “I saw you on the news. They said you were dangerous. They said they were hunting you down. I was so scared.” By now Phoebe and Byron were in the small, dark room. The girl was a few inches shorter than Stephen. She had red hair that extended from her head like wings. She had a pale and freckled face, and bright blue eyes that contrasted sharply from the other bright colors of her body. She wore a long, loose black shirt. “If I saw you on there again,” she said, bringing her face off of his shoulder, “And if they said you had been caught or killed or something,” she stopped as she looked over onto her bed. Chills went down Mark’s spine as he saw a handgun laying on her bed.

  “No,” Stephen said, “You can’t.”

  “But I can’t do this without you,” she said.

  “Grace,” he said calmly, “You’ll be ok.” Grace let go of him, seemingly gaining composure for a moment. She looked at the others, who were standing in her room in confusion.

  “Who are these?” she said.

  “These are Mark, Phoebe, and Byron. They’re helping me. Without them I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.” Grace didn’t respond. “Guys, this is Grace,” Stephen said, “My girlfriend.” No one moved, except for Phoebe, who made a weak attempt at a wave. Grace managed a small smile.

  “I’m going to have to go with them for a while,” he said, “but I’ll be back. I promise.”

  “But Stephen,” Grace said, turning back to him, “I need you here.” Tears began to rise from her eyes again. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you. I’m going to get so much worse and I don’t know what I’ll do to myself.”

  “It’ll be ok,” Stephen tried to comfort her, “I’ll be back for you. I swear.”

  “It won’t be ok. What if you’re not ok?”

  “I will be perfectly fine. These people know what they’re doing.”

  “Can’t I come with you?”

  “No,” he said, “It’s too dangerous. Look, you saw what they said about me on TV. These people can do stuff like that too. Weird stuff. Stuff out of stories. And there are other people like that all over the Nation. It’s going to be way too dangerous for you. I have to go with them for now, but I promise you that, once we’re done, I’m coming straight for you. And then we can run off and live together outside the Nation, where no one can tell us what to do. It will be perfect. I promise. Just give me a couple of weeks, maybe not even that long.”

  “I don’t know if I can go that long without you, Stephen.”

  “Look,” Byron suddenly spoke up, “Grace, you do not want to do this. I promise you, you do not want to hurt yourself in any way.”

  “You don’t understand-”

  “I understand more than you think,” He interrupted, “I had a friend who was very important to me once. She meant as much to me as Stephen does to you.” Tears began to form in Byron’s eyes and his voice started to shake. “But she was hurt. She was hurt very badly and she killed herself. Her doing that crushed me. It broke my heart.” A tear rolled down Byron’s cheek. “I can tell you right now that killing yourself will not take away the pain. It will simply pass it to Stephen and it will break him. You will break him completely if you ever pull that trigger. And I am sure that you care about him very deeply. I am sure that you do not want him to have to go through the kind of pain that you are feeling now. So please, just give him some time. Let him do this, and I promise you that you will be back in his arms the day he finishes this and you will be happier, you both will be happier, than you ever have before.”

  Grace was silent. She had stopped crying. She simply stood there, her head resting against Stephen chest, staring at Byron. “Alright,” she said, backing away from him. “I understand.” She turned around, picking the gun up from on top of her bed. She handed it to Stephen. “But please be safe,” she said as he took it from her. Stephen nodded. “I will, my Grace,” he said, embracing her again. “I will.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stephen said to Byron as they walked away from Grace’s house and out into the Field. “I needed to make sure she wouldn’t kill herself while I was gone.”

  “I understand,” he said, “We just need to get moving quickly.”

  “Are we going to take the van?” Ashley asked.

  “No,” Byron answered quietly. “It wouldn’t do any good off road.”

  “Byron,” Phoebe said, “You need to tell us about what happened.”

  “Phoebe, I’ve already told you-”

  “No, Byron. You need to tell us. You know every single thing about our lives. You’ve been in our heads; you know every secret we’ve ever kept. Let us into your life. We need to be able to trust you.”

  Byron was silent for a moment. He nodded. “You’re right,” he said.

  “A friend,” Byron began, “betrayed me. Although it wasn’t really her fault. I was to be promoted to a higher level in the Service, but was denied my advancement. I wondered why, and began searching for answers. I found that there were eight other people like me, all under surveillance. How I wasn’t, I had no idea. But I found out something else, also, and the head of the Service took notice of my secret hunt. They wanted to know why, and what I had found out, so they began searching. Soon they came across the,” Byron’s voice cracked, “person I was closest to; Veronica Garrett. They drugged her and interrogated her, the one person I had told of my ability. The Service learned of my mutation, and set out to kill me. I ran to a place we had made, Veronica and me. A small bunker underneath an old, abandoned building. It was sort of like a laboratory we had taken about year or so to build. I found her there. She told me what she had done. I was willing to forgive her, but she wasn’t,” Byron struggled to maintain a steady breath, “She killed herself. She shot herself in the head, right there, in front of me. And then I ran. I ran from Sector Seven, jumped on a train outside of the Sector, and rode to Sector Three, where I devised a plan. I would not let anybody else be hurt because of their abilities, just because they’re different. I knew there were more; the Secret Service files had shown me that much. So I would look for them. And then we’d all leave.”

  Byron looked up, realizing that all of his companions were listening now. The five stood, in the middle of the Field, silent.

  “I’m so sorry, Byron,” Phoebe said finally.

  “No need,” said Byron, wiping the tears out of his eyes, “It’s almost dark. Stephen, count out our supplies. Get ready to sleep, I’ll stay up for a while to keep watch. You all will need some rest tonight.”

  Mark awoke inside a house. Where was he? He was supposed to be outside in the plains, awaiting the morning so that they would go to Sector Five. Had it all been a dream? No; this was not his bed. He wasn’t in his home. Shouts from downstairs made him jump. He leapt out of the bed and walked downstairs quietly.

  “We can’t afford any food!” Mark heard.

  “Don’t blame me,” came a weak response, “It’s not my fault.”

  Mark walked into a room with two couches and a chair with a threadbare cushion. The shouts had come from an adjacent room. He crept into a doorway that looked like there had once been a door, but it had been long since ripped off its hinges. He saw two people in the room, which was a kitchen, only one of them familiar. Mark saw Phoebe cowering before a tall woman who stood over her.

  “Yes, it is, you know that!” said the woman.

  “No it’s not!” Phoebe rejected.

  “Excuse me?”

  “All you spend our money on i-”

  “Don’t use that excuse with me! Maybe if you did something with your miserable self and got a job we’d have more money!” The woman raised her hand up to hit Phoebe, but stopped before her hand made contact. Phoebe stood up straight, looking at a metal bracelet that the woman was wearing. The woman looked confused and frustrated. Her hand flew back, connecting with the wall. The woman groaned in pain. Su
ddenly, her eyes opened wide. She gasped for breath. Her free hand began clutching at her throat. A necklace tightened around it, keeping her from breathing. She tried to talk, but no air could escape her mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and Mark’s eyes opened.

  Mark and Phoebe awoke at exactly the same moment. Mark looked at Phoebe, a confused look on his face. Phoebe didn’t notice, putting her hand to her forehead. Mark stood and began walking, trying to find Byron. He found him standing, looking off into the distance at Sector Five.

  “That was you, wasn’t it?” Mark said accusingly.

  “Yes,” he said, not reverting his gaze, “I allowed you to access Phoebe’s dream.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted you to see Phoebe for who she truly is before you try to make a serious relationship.”

  “A serious relationship? What are you talking about?”

  “You might be good at hiding your affectionate feeling from the rest of the group, but I am a telepath. I can feel what you’re feeling at any given moment.”

  “Why was I seeing that?”

  “Phoebe has been abused her entire life, Mark. Her father physically so, and her mother emotionally so. Besides that her mother used whatever money came into the house to feed her several undying addictions. She won’t trust you. Especially not with your destructive abilities. I’m guessing what she saw in the store back in Sector Four frightened her significantly. Moreover, she holds a large amount of anger inside of her. She’s dangerous, and her abilities could one day amount to be more destructive than yours or mine. Uncontrollable emotions and great power do not mix well.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You need to keep your distance. Do not be pushy. Do not pursue her. If you try it could end up being a liability to everything we are working for.”

  “How do I know you aren’t try to take her for yourself?”

  “Currently my only focus is getting us out of the Nation alive and unified. Besides, my heart has always and will always lie elsewhere.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “I understand that I may be coming off as manipulative. But trust me I am only trying to work for the best of this group and each of the individuals in it.”

  “You’re being a jerk about it, then.”

  “Such is the burden of those who care.”

  Chapter Eight

  Family Ties

  “Next is Sector Five,” Byron said as each of the group began waking up. “Arguably the most important Sector of them all.”

  “That’s electricity, right?” Stephen said. “How is that more important that food or water?”

  “If we didn’t have electricity none of it would be possible. Most of the energy that powers the entire Nation comes right from this Sector, and without it we’d be completely enveloped in darkness.”

  “At least we’ll have some time in the shade,” Ashley said, “We’ll have to pass through this before we get there.” She gestured towards a large group of trees and underbrush that was in their path. It was a small forest and would provide them with not only shade, but with cover as well.

  “You know who we’re looking for, right?” Phoebe asked Byron.

  “Yes,” he replied, “Gabriel Ramsey. It’s not just him, but another may be joining us as well. He seems to be with a partner.”

  “Is he…like us?”

  “No, he seems normal enough. But it seems as though they’re both being hunted. Gabe seems to be trying to find a way out of his Sector, and I’ve provided him with a way to do that. Let’s get moving, now. It’s going to take us a while to get through this forest.”

  Thomas Garek approached Peyton Burton carefully. Peyton didn’t appear to be much, but Thomas knew better. Peyton was not a friend to surprises. One sudden movement and Thomas would be in a coma for the rest of his career. Peyton didn’t look like much, but Thomas had seen what the man could do as the Head of the Secret Service. He slowly followed behind Peyton, who planned every movement cautiously, planning it well before acting on it.

  “What do you want, Thomas?” Peyton said, an agitated tone in his voice. Thomas jumped at his voice, surprised by the man’s voice. Peyton didn’t talk that much, preferring to think instead of speaking. He would sit through whole meetings without his mouth opening, his elbow rested on the arm of a chair, his finger curled around his chin in a thoughtful manner. Even when asked his opinion, Peyton usually only responded with a blunt “Yes” or “No”, sometimes not even speaking, but glaring in such a way that his judgment was obvious.

  “If you don’t mind, sir,” Thomas said, losing the rough manner he had acted during the Council, “I would ask you a question.”

  Peyton stopped and turned. “I’m all ears,” he said, seemingly becoming friendlier. Thomas kept his distance, anyways.

  “You mentioned today that you didn’t want to kill the Unnatural,” Thomas said slowly, “But in an earlier meeting you issued an order to kill one that had infiltrated the Secret Service. Why are you pardoning them now?”

  Peyton’s face fell. By his expression, Thomas could tell that he had hit upon a personal note. Thomas stood his ground, though, even though he knew that this would end badly for him. Peyton took a breath and looked up, studying Thomas. Thomas still stood, although he felt the urge to shake in fear.

  “You’re a bold man for asking such a question,” said Peyton, smiling, “Your bravery saves you today, Garek, although, as war coordinator I would have thought that you would’ve known better than to ask me that. I guess, though, I admire courage more than intelligence, so I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  Thomas let out a nervous, quiet breath, but sucked in another when Peyton took a slow step towards him.

  “I’m giving mercy to the Unnatural because,” Peyton said, pausing for a moment, “One of them is my daughter.”

  “Get down!” Byron said abruptly. The party ducked behind a large rock.

  “What is it?” Phoebe asked.

  “Look,” Byron said, “But be careful.” Phoebe looked around the corner and grimaced at what she saw. In their path was a large group of soldiers, possibly up to a dozen. There were two tanks flanking the soldiers.

  “How are we supposed to get around that?” Stephen asked.

  “We just go around,” Mark suggested.

  “No, we’ll be easily seen,” Byron said. “We’ll have to take them head on, but we have to be smart about it, make use of our every resource. Now first-”

  “I’ve got this,” Phoebe said, running from around the rock. She heard Byron yelling, trying to stop her, but she ignored him. Now was her time to prove herself. Now was her time to be free and to show them what she was made of. These soldiers’ weapons made of metal would be nothing to her.

  The soldier’s attempts were futile. Their bullets just fell to the ground around them, as if hitting an impassable wall. Phoebe could feel them all, as if they were her. She drove herself into the ground; let those extensions of her body go as soon as they hit the earth. She extended her willpower to one of the tanks, which, seconds later, blew apart in an inferno. Cars flipped and flew into the air, spiraling and cartwheeling into the atmosphere. Guns were ripped out of the soldiers’ hands, orbiting Phoebe body. Phoebe stopped running in the middle of the chaos. Soldiers came at her with knives now. Phoebe almost laughed at their idiocy. They should just retreat. She let one of the guns fire at a soldier, but, instead of a typical explosion that came from the gun’s barrel, all Phoebe heard was a snapping sound. The soldier she had aimed at fell over, but not with the gaping wound of a bullet, nor the smoking hole of a laser, rather, a long syringe sticking out of his shoulder. Phoebe looked down at the gun for a moment, confused. She saw why, then. These guns weren’t actual guns; they were tranquilizers.

  That moment almost killed her, though, for a soldier noticed her distraction and ran at her, a knife in his hand. Phoebe looked up, but it was too late. However, as she braced herself for th
e excruciating sting the knife would bring, she saw someone appear in front of her. The soldier brought his knife down, burying it into the person’s shoulder while the person delivered a painful chop to the small exposure the soldier’s armor gave in the neck. The two crumpled down next to each other.

  Phoebe knelt down next to her savior, pulling the knife out of his shoulder. She saw the contorted face of Stephen.

  “That hurt,” he mumbled before going unconscious.

  Phoebe let the surrounding guns and other assorted weapons that were orbiting her drop and looked up from Stephen’s body, hearing a loud crash and explosion. One of the tanks had exploded again, but Phoebe had not done it this time. She couldn’t see through the smoke, but she thought she saw a metal arm reach and grabs one of the soldiers, dragging him, screaming. The soldier came back around, flying at one of his own. The metal arm came out again, grabbing another soldier, throwing him, too. The soldiers began circling the thing, their knives poised, ready to fight. The remaining tank fired at the mysterious newcomer and hit dead on. However, after the smoke settled a little, Phoebe saw the outline of a man, standing. He leapt forward, colliding with two soldiers, send them flying. He kicked another who had rushed on him. One soldier jumped, but the man hit the ground and came back up when the soldier was just above him, his fist colliding with the soldier’s stomach, sending the soldier up and backwards. The tank managed to fire again, but the man caught the missile this time. The smoke had just settled enough for Phoebe to see who the man was. He was very tall, around six and a half feet, it looked like. His long, disheveled hair covered his shoulders, from which thick, muscular arms sprouted, ending in the monstrously large hands that had grabbed ahold of the tank’s projectile. However, the man’s skin was what was strange. It seemed to be metal. As soon as he touched the missile, his skin had begun to transform into a similar metal, starting at his hands and working its way up and down his body. Soon that same kind of shiny, hard metal covered his skin, head to toe, as if he were made out of it.