Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2) Page 6

  But Ret shuddered remembering how she’d described the air vent earlier. “Like a blind man with his eyes closed.” Now, looking at the magnitude of this venting system, his stomach tightened. “This whole dark tunnel idea. I’m just not sure ...”

  Wolf looked up from the sketch and her lips twisted in a smile. “Afraid of the dark?”

  “Well, no. I mean. I don’t know. Let’s just say it would make more sense with some light.”

  Fran tossed her head back. “I doubt that,” she challenged. “Nothing makes sense in there.” She seemed to be gearing up for her usual Wolf-snort, but she stopped suddenly, mid-motion. “I could be your guide.”

  Ret followed her gaze as she whipped her head back to Chan’s direction. Chan’s hand stopped drawing, but his eyes remained on the sketch. “That’s nuts, Wolf.”

  “Exactly.” She stood with a commotion, scraping her chair along the floor before sauntering away from the table. She wandered to the opening of the cottage and gazed out over the central fire. “Maybe I’d light up security’s screens, but we don’t know for sure, do we? And even if I did, my bots might take a while to reboot. Plus—” she turned around to face Chan with a look of defiance. “They can’t send Graphies into the vents. Even if they saw me, they couldn’t reach me.”

  Chan shook his head and blew out a long breath. With fingers locked behind his head, he leaned into his hands, and tipped his chair back contemplating Wolf’s face. In return, she crossed her arms and held his gaze in a heated staring match. Finally, Chan leaned his weight forward, and the chair whomped down. He shook his head and returned his attention back to the sketch.

  Interesting, Ret thought as he observed the match between teacher and student. From the looks of things, this wasn’t the first time they had gone toe-to-toe.

  Wolf stomped over to the table and covered Chan’s sketch with her tattooed hand. “The conversation is not over, Chan.”

  Chan nodded his head as he continued the sketch. “I know, but I think I’ve got a better idea, Wolf. Just put it on hold, for now.”

  “The wolf whisperer.” Ret chuckled, as she submitted to her mentor.

  She sighed and waved Ret over. “Come on. I’ll show you where each Rebel resides.” Then under her breath, “If any are still alive … ”

  After a moment of silence, Chun uttered a single word. “Sludge.” He didn’t even look up from the sketch. “Doc and I went on a little expedition two nights ago. He wanted to show me what he calls nature’s nightlight. It’s down by the river. A sludge that glows at night.”

  Wolf’s eyes danced back and forth between the two of them. “Are you serious? Is it radioactive or something?”

  Ret interrupted, “No. It’s bioluminescent. An algae, really. And Chan’s right, it lines the river banks.”

  “Why haven’t I seen this stuff?”

  “Well, I guess you haven’t been to the river at night. It only glows in the dark. In daylight, it looks like the rest of the muddy bank.”

  “That’s so cool!”

  The discussion halted as the door creaked open. The three turned in unison as Doc’s voice rang out from the doorway. “The sludge is a great idea, Chan.”

  He moved across the room and hovered by the table. Consternation lined his face, and Ret couldn’t track the true emotions brewing beneath his father’s thick skin.

  “Ready, Son?”

  Ret nodded, and his father squeezed his shoulder. He pulled a chair back from the table and with a grunt of old age, settled into the wooden seat. “Alright, let’s move on this plan.”

  Chapter 13

  FRAN

  Fran inspected the Canvies as Tanya put the finishing touches on the ankle cuffs. “This is amazing, Tanya. It looks like the real thing!”

  Tanya smiled at Fran. “I guess I still have some memories of the old city, huh?”

  Fran nodded in agreement. “But designing these out of a few old blankets is still pretty impressive.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion this is exactly why Ema had saved them all these years.”

  Fran’s curiosity of seeing Ret cleaned up like a regular guy, warred with her dark hatred of the city. Plus, she still carried around just a smidge of annoyance over the whole tattletale thing.

  “His Impervious costume is ready.” Tanya held the Canvies in one hand and a matching zippered hoodie in the other, her smile revealing her pride in the craftsmanship. At that moment, Ruth and Ema burst through the doorway, breathless like they’d just hiked for miles.

  “Oh, Tanya, that is perfect!” Ruth rushed over and fingered the canvas material.

  Tanya nodded. “So, where is the fearless Retter?”

  “Probably pouting.” Ruth placed her hand over her mouth for a moment like she’d said something naughty. “After he bathed, Ema gave him quite the haircut.” Ruth snickered and Ema joined in the merriment.

  “I’ve been wanting to chop that ratty mane for a long time now.”

  Mom made a snipping motion through the air, and then coughed to stifle a laugh. “He’ll be along momentarily to finish the transformation.”

  With that, Fran slipped out of the cottage and meandered across camp. She moved to the water supply and filled the satchels he’d need to bring along. Laughter soared from the cottage window with the makeover underway. She even detected a snort from her mother and in her irritation, she missed the opening and sloshed water over the sides of the containers.

  Finally, the madness died down. Good. She heard the creak of the cottage door and spun around for a quick glimpse, but ended up staring just like the rest of Ret’s fans. The guy who moved toward her still looked like Ret—but not quite. The newly-fashioned canvies with their stylish loose cut had managed to hide his generous muscles, but the off-white hue made his sun-drenched skin seem even brighter—like the trendy West-wing tanners of Gen-2.

  Very retro.

  His thick ponytail had been cropped and replaced with a messy, goo-covered, golden mop cleverly arranged with a chic side-part. The sides of his head had been shaved to about a quarter inch in length, and skinny sideburns trailed from temples to jawbone giving his face an even more chiseled appearance. Ret’s eyes, now lined in black, looked ferocious and alive as if traces of a lion crouched beneath the surface.

  Fran’s hand stopped mid-ladle, allowing the water she’d just scooped to trickle back into the pot. Thankfully, Ema and her mother flounced from the cottage relieving her from the death of embarrassment with loud shouts for everyone to gather around.

  Those working on the periphery of the camp meandered over, and a stream of sarcastic ooh’s and ah’s, punctuated by a few chuckles, poured out from their friends. Ret responded by taking a deep bow, but when his gaze rested on Fran, he shrugged and lifted a single brow as if they shared some sort of secret. Seriously? A single brow lift? Always on the edges of her thoughts, Pete’s face poked into her mundane thoughts. Unlike Ret’s ability to pump way too much blood into her cheeks, however, thoughts of Pete brought a comfortable warmth to her belly. Like her old, worn blanket … Fran pulled a fresh apple from her satchel and gave it a quick shine with the hem of her robe. A gift for Pete.

  Just in case.

  She brushed her gaze past Ret again. He can pull this off, right?

  His first mission was a simple one: Round up those who hadn’t crossed the invisible line of puberty, as well as those who already believed in the Epoch—the kids and the Rebels. That would be Phase I. And anything further than this first phase had become a mystery to Fran—as if there had been a shift in authority. Fran balled her sweaty hands into tight fists.

  Ret continued to strut for his audience while she finished filling the last satchel. Finally, she hefted the heavy bags of water over her shoulder. A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have been able to do that.

  As she moved closer, she noticed tension in Ret’s expression, which made her feel a little better. Brought back down from “super-human” to “just a guy.”

  Doc s
tood on one side of his son with one protective hand on Ret’s shoulder, and the other on Ema. Fran thought about the old movies she’d watched on her reader—parents sending off their sons to war. She imagined Ret climbing aboard an old-fashioned bus and waving to them all through a dirty window, as Ema dabbed her eyes with a delicate hanky.

  She approached the family and set the heavy containers at Ret’s feet.

  “This should last you.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Can’t let myself dehydrate, right, Wolf?”

  Fran felt uncomfortable warmth crawl up her neck. She turned her head to avoid his familiar grin. “Has anyone seen Chan?” she asked.

  “He’s gearing up for the hike to the portal,” Doc answered.

  “Good. I’ll fill my water satchel and be ready in a minute,” Fran added.

  Ema and Doc swapped a look as if they shared a secret.

  “What?”

  “We just want to be cautious. We’re confident the Bots are dying out inside of you, but just in case there are any lingering still …” Ema rubbed Fran’s arm.

  Doc cleared his throat. “If there are any stragglers, the closer you get to the city, the more opportunity they would have to regenerate.”

  “But what about Chan?”

  “He’s been out a bit longer than you and his pre-detox body was so weak, many of the Bots had already begun to immobilize before his release. However, because of your zest—” Ema squeezed Fran’s shoulder. “Shall we say, the Bots mimic their host?”

  Fran looked down at her feet, unsure if she felt flattered or insulted. Even so, she couldn’t stomach the thought of jeopardizing this mission like she’d done last time. She hung her head in submission and heaved a disappointed sigh.

  Ruth walked up and wrapped an arm around her daughter. “Just keeping you safe, sweetheart.”

  The others who had gathered to say goodbye to Ret clapped him on the back and wished him well. As Fran pressed in with the crowd she thought about what to say as she sent him off. She wanted to ask him to keep an eye out for the guy with dark hair and an infectious laugh. She wanted to place the fresh apple into his hand and ask him to deliver it to Pete as a gift from her. She wanted to tell him to blend in.

  And run fast.

  And stay safe.

  Instead, she extended her hand, palm facing skyward and Ret gripped her forearm just below the elbow. She wrapped her fingers partway around his bulky extremity and they lingered in the familiar handshake of the villagers.

  This time, even though warmth burned her cheeks, she didn’t fight it. Instead, she held his tawny gaze for an extra breath and watched the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile.

  “See you on the flipside, Wolf.”

  Chapter 14

  RETTER

  He moved with measured steps in spite of the tangle of knots in his gut. Chan and his father replayed the plan, but their chatter rivaled the loud pulsations drumming past his ears. He had committed Chan’s charcoal sketches to memory, and Wolf had tested and retested him on the locations of integral parts of the city. He knew the plan: Find the remaining Rebels to share the good news and bring back as many uninfected kids as possible. They all hoped the Diary of a First Gen had circled through the Rebel camp enough that he’d be received wholeheartedly.

  As the journey continued, conversations gave way to silence, and Ret listened to the familiar crackling of twigs and calls of nature, allowing the bounty of this world to calm his nerves. Much sooner than he anticipated, the forest ended, and the prairie opened up before them. Clouds of blue smoke billowed in the distance. Although the exoskeleton of the city jutted out from the ground a full quarter mile away, he felt a shift in the atmosphere. His gaze locked onto the smoke as it spewed from the mouth of the underground city, and Ret felt a burning in this throat. Panic or poison? Either way, it left his mouth dry and sticky.

  The scratchy, canvas collar rubbed his neck, and the synthetically weaved garment felt like a plastic prison. A hand rested on his shoulder, and with it, he felt the familiar power of his father.

  “You know, Retter, in a million years, I never would have envisioned the city I built would bring such grief.” His father shook his head. “Then again, I would have also never envisioned producing a son with such strength.”

  Ret’s chin dipped in a curt nod. “I think I ought to go it alone from here on out.”

  His father handed him the extra water satchels and Ret flung them over his shoulder. Chan stepped forward and clapped him on the back before handing over the sealed container.

  “To light the way.”

  Ret accepted the package. Chan reached into his own pocket and pulled out a small folded parchment. “If you don’t mind bringing this as well. A few of my own words to pass on to the Rebels.”

  With his lips glued in fear, Ret could do little more than nod before stepping out into the open grasses. How long would it be before he returned home? Or what if these were his last glimpses of the blue sky? His thoughts spun with reminders from Wolf. “Don’t forget to count your taps. And if you start to freak out, shut your eyes. It’ll give you a break from the darkness.”

  The tall grasses scraped at his canvies, and the wind circled his head, as if saluting him and sending nods of approval. Sweat trickled down his back, making Ret wish he could rip the man-made clothing from his body and experience the relief of the breeze. There was no time for those comforts. The doors to the portal could open at any given moment, and he needed to be secured on the roof before then.

  He reached the building that housed the portal and stood for a dreaded moment before the metal structure. The walls towered several feet overhead, gloating their man-made presence. His eyes scanned the length of the corrugated silver wall, and the sun toyed with the metal, sending opaque heat swirls into the air.

  Keeping his eye on the roofline, Ret untied the cord from his belt. He lassoed the length overhead and felt power vibrate through his entire being as he wound up for the throw. Then, aiming for a thick bolt jutting from the side of the roof, he released one end of the rope.

  Yes!

  He gave the rope a quick tug before gripping with both hands to shimmy up the side of the structure.

  The thick boots he’d been outfitted with slid on the slick metal. He gripped and pulled on the rope, the muscles in his shoulders and back taking the brunt of the hard work. He pulled himself up and over the ledge with shaking arms, but had no time to waste. He rolled over onto hands and knees and crept to the opening that he’d memorized from the charcoal sketch. As he peered into the mouth that would allow him to enter the city, Ret measured about a three-foot drop before the pipe took a turn and disappeared.

  He swung his legs into the opening, tossed down the extra gear, and filled his lungs with one last breath like he’d done so many times before plunging into an icy river. On a silent count of three, he lowered himself into the tube and squatted low. A peek skyward assured him the sun remained in place overhead before he moved into the sphere of darkness.

  A rumbling from beyond groaned a foreboding warning, and a rush of air moved past him as if in a hurry to reach the mechanical sound. Ret followed the stream and the noise grew with alarming intensity. The droning of this foreign tongue caused adrenaline to jet through Ret’s veins, and a taste of metal coated his tongue. As he drew closer, Ret sensed movement as the fan whooshed in an unending circle. Wolf had warned him of the sharp metal blades and on instinct, he leaned away from the knife-like oars. Splintered light from the opposing side flashed into his eyes at random intervals as he watched and waited for the fan to cease. Sooner than he imagined, a loud snap echoed through the chamber, and the roar of the motor rumbled to a soft purr before finally ending in complete silence. The rotational pulse began to ease and a single blur of movement morphed into individual shapes. Upon slowing to a full stop, each razor-edged blade grew larger than life, a wicked reminder of whose turf he was on now.

  Ret maneuvered over the metal flanges with cau
tion and dexterity. He crawled a few feet toward a welcome shaft of luminescence, attentive to stay hidden in the shadows beyond its reaches.

  He pulled the schematics up in his head. He could picture Chan’s trembling hand hovering over the rough drawing of the entrance to the city. Wolf’s voice narrated as Chan sketched onto the map. “After passing over the big fan, you’ll be situated directly over the antechamber to the portal. At this point, all you can do is wait for a resident to be released. That’s when the Superiors slide the doorway open into the Ranch. And you’ll have to stay hidden until it does, because that foyer is the only place I know where a live guard keeps watch.”

  Just as Wolf had said, a flesh-and-blood man guarded the entrance. However, with his chin resting on his chest and a light snore emitting from his throat, he didn’t seem to pose much threat. Ret released a sigh and leaned against the metal wall to settle in for the wait.

  He reached around for his water satchel, grateful for a chance to relieve his parched throat. After a few mouthfuls, he leaned his head back and used the delay as an opportunity to go over his checklist. Again. First the Rebels. Then the kids. Especially, according to Fran, the ones at the Impervious Children’s Services.

  He closed his eyes and pictured the map for the hundredth time. As the hours wore on, he discovered physical inertia to be a difficult lesson in restraint. More power to you, Wolf, he thought, as his muscles begged to be stretched.

  After he’d run out of ways to occupy his mind, he tiptoed to the painful precipice of the prior night. The family meeting.

  For as far back as Ret could remember, Mom had always kept it together. But last night as they’d gathered as a family to read and prepare themselves with the Book, Mom had broken down and allowed a tear to escape. “Up until now, I’d never fully understood ...”

  And it was all about the water.