Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2) Page 9

  “It’s called eat or be eaten. Every man for himself.” Wolf’s steely, blue eyes came to mind. Ret realized she possessed a unique strength to rise above the grumblings of this place and search for the truth. Here’s to you, Wolf. Ret silently saluted her before taking control of the tide.

  He pushed to the left, perforating the space around him. He continued, pressing through the flux until he freely moved to the periphery of the crowd. A moment later, he was expelled from the throng to an open area dotted with tables and chairs.

  Residents ate, drank, and tried talking over ear-splitting music. A drum pounded in his left temple in time with his heart. I need water.

  Holographs shimmered everywhere, marketing shoes, a jacket, food, and entertainment. Some looked like the holographic guard he met at the vent. His eyes darted from resident to holograph, making a mental note of each man-made bench, acrylic structure, and every screened oblong opening along the walls. Just in case a quick escape was warranted.

  Every couple hundred feet, Ret noticed peculiar rectangular structures with lines of people snaking around the perimeter. Ret wandered over to investigate, and as he approached, he noticed clear containers tucked under arms or by feet. Water fountains?

  He hovered at the end of the line behind a young woman clutching the high-handles of a three-wheeled contraption. An infant lay swaddled in the soft seat.

  Ret knew about babies, but he’d never seen one.

  He couldn’t help but stare at the amazing, miniature human being. Obviously, not able to walk on its own, the baby lay tucked into a crisp, white blanket, blowing spit bubbles. The mother’s hand draped over the high handles, and she mindlessly rocked the cart back and forth.

  Fat little fingers reached toward miniature, holographic animals as they floated just out of the baby’s reach. The infant seemed content as his mother chatted with another girl in line.

  Suddenly, their eyes met. Ret looked away, but on a sideways glance their eyes met again. She ran her fingers through wisps of spikey, copper-colored hair—a style Ret noticed was shared by quite a few young women. He smiled and tried to push past.

  “Hi, I’m Gabby,” she said.

  So much for not being noticed.

  Her painted lids sparkled, and Ret’s eyes flicked to the rose tattoo on her left hand. “Nice ink,” he said. “Have you ever smelled a real rose?”

  “No, I haven’t. East-side girls don’t typically receive flowers.”

  Ret thought about the thorny bushes with the miniature blooms on the edges of the prairie. “I know where there are real roses.”

  She boldly slanted her eyes at Ret, and he experienced an uncomfortable wave of heat. Unsure exactly how to respond, he leaned in and whispered, “Outside.”

  Immediately her demeanor changed and she turned away from him.

  “Who was that?” her friend asked.

  “Just some crazy West-Winger.”

  Gabby’s chin was lifted with an heir of mock superiority and her friend assessed Ret with pursed lips. “Then why is he standing in our line?”

  Gabby giggled and shushed her friend. “I think he likes me.” Her whisper caught the attention of another nearby line-waiter who huffed and turned her back to Gabby.

  Gabby turned back to Ret. “Why are you in our line? Don’t you have auto-collect for your water?”

  Ret noticed those walking away from the line carried containers filled with clear liquid. He shuddered as he realized that they each carried an armload of water that would mark them as the Council’s property. Trackers and death. Ret looked down at the gurgling baby. “Do you feed your child this water?”

  “Of course.” Gabby giggled. “What kind of question is that?”

  Ret shook his head as he contemplated the implication. “This water will bring death.”

  Gabby’s bright smile tightened around the edges. “You West Wingers are so dang uppity. Don’t you think I’d prefer to feed my son the superior waters of the West side?” She crossed her arms and her chin dove into her chest. With tight lips she mumbled, “If you’re just here to flaunt your status, you might as well leave.”

  “East, west, it doesn’t matter, Gabby. Good water doesn’t exist down here.”

  She snorted. “Well, maybe when the Epoch arrives we’ll all be safe, huh?”

  “The Epoch is right before you, Gabby.”

  Ret turned and began to move back toward the roaming sea of bodies.

  “Who are you?” Gabby’s voice sounded over the crowd, as Ret pulled back into the murmuring current.

  Why had he told her so much? Of course, she wouldn’t understand. Ret felt frustrated as he moved again with the crowd.

  Lesson learned. Only share what they can understand.

  Chapter 19

  FRAN

  Fran rolled onto her side. An involuntary groan escaped from her lips, waking her from a slumber. Her arms and legs, speckled with dried poultice, reminded her of the jig she’d danced by the river the night before. Apparently, Mom had covered the bites while she slept. Fran sat up and swung her legs over the side of the cot. The abrupt movement sent her on a dizzy wave and her vision blurred. Am I dying? She grabbed her head and remained immobile until the spinning of the room slowed. Gazing around the cottage, Fran could see Mom had already tidied for the day, and her own hibernation felt strangely out of place.

  From the harsh rays of the sun and hustle and bustle of life outside, she surmised morning had turned to afternoon. She slid her feet onto the floor and winced as pain shot up from her toes into her shins. Sucking in her breath, Fran eased her full weight onto her feet, but needed to grab the edge of the bedding to steady herself.

  “Mom?” She croaked. Yet, when she realized her hoarse voice couldn’t carry past the open window, she stumbled toward the cottage entry. Her head swam and dark patches danced before her eyes. She lunged toward the threshold and clutched the frame of the doorway to remain upright. A welcome breeze drifted through the room and cooled her damp hairline. She panted from the effort.

  A hand on her shoulder accompanied a soft voice she recognized as Tanya’s. “Come. Let’s get you back to bed.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” Fran drew in a ragged breath.

  “Some call it pneumonia.” She glanced at Fran. “Ema, however, is calling it river flu.”

  She eased Fran back into the bed. “Appears you had some water in your lungs. Between that and the detox, your body succumbed to the fever.”

  Fran flashed back to her near-drowning experience, and remembered Ret had told her secret. Even in her fevered state, she felt her irritation rise.

  “Oh don’t be mad at Retter, dear. He was so worried when he found out you were undergoing a detox, he had to share the incident with Ema.”

  Tanya lifted a vessel to Fran’s parched lips and she gulped the cool liquid, not even caring about the earthy taste it left in her mouth. Tanya fluffed her pillow and continued in her velvety voice. “Those of us in charge of caring for you really did need to know. In any event, Ema fashioned an antimicrobial that should have you up running in a few days.”

  Fran handed the container back to Tanya, rested her head on the cool pillow, and felt immediate relief. Tanya stroked Fran’s head. “How about I fix you a special tea?”

  Fran nodded, grateful. She closed her eyes as Tanya’s footsteps moved toward the doorway. “Tanya?” She croaked.

  Tanya’s footsteps paused. “Yes?”

  “Any word from Ret?”

  “Not yet.” The silence, punctuated by the rippling of a new breeze, hung between them. Tanya’s voice remained steady and warm. “No need to worry.”

  Unfortunately, there were plenty of reasons to worry.

  Chapter 20

  RETTER

  Ret circled with the crowd until he noticed the storefront with Fresnos lettered over the glass doorway. He nudged sideways until ejected from the throng of bodies and moved to the vent marked by the large, hovering guard. The Graphie barely flicke
red as Ret moved past him, swiped the code, and crawled back inside.

  Just outside the reaches of light, he found Pete nested in his wrinkly pile of blankets, a wheezy snore emitting from his open mouth. Remembering the thrashing arms and legs of earlier when he’d woken the sleeping Rebel, Ret stayed an arm’s length away and shouted Pete’s name. It took multiple tries before garnering a response, but a few snorts later, Pete’s crumpled form unfolded.

  “Hey, man.” A sleepy smile covered Pete’s face. “Did you bring me a cheeseburger?”

  Ret shook his head. “No. But if you’re hungry you can eat from the packs I brought.”

  Pete chuckled. “No offense, but your water tasted a little rancid. I wouldn’t mind a clean cup of water … and a cheeseburger?” He arced a brow.

  Ret blew out a breath and shook his head. “Your old water can’t sustain life, Pete. If you want to live, you’re going to have to get used to a new taste.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that. Well, then, I guess it would be best if we left this rat-hole, huh?” Pete peppered his remark with a waggle of his brow.

  “Right. As soon as we gather up the rest of the Rebels and the kids.”

  Pete swiped the light he’d been holding and held it at arm’s length. “Kids?”

  “Yes. The Rebels and the kids.” Ret repeated.

  “Well, like I said before. I haven’t heard any Rebel whoops or run into a sleeping heap in weeks.” Pete shook his head to punctuate his thoughts. “And no offense, man, but you can’t just go stealing people’s kids.”

  Ret looked past Pete as the light began to fade. “Impervious Children’s Services.”

  “The ICS?” Pete questioned.

  “Yes. The ICS. I don’t suppose taking an orphan to his parents would be considered stealing, huh?”

  Pete laughed as he brushed the light for a reboot. “You got a point. To the ICS we go, then.” Pete saluted Ret, and rolled a U-turn. “Oh yeah.” He stretched his arm out behind him and handed back the light. “Strap it on, Ninja.”

  Ret tucked the light into his new headband and reached for the packs he’d left with Pete. The first water pack had deflated and felt flimsy. Definitely empty.

  “Wow, got a little thirsty, huh, Pete?”

  “Yeah. Like I said, though, it didn’t taste so good.”

  “Hm. Well, glad you’re hydrated, but we’re going to have to slow down on the drink. This has to last us until we get back out.”

  Ret grabbed the second pack … also drained. “What happened here?”

  “I told you. It was rancid. I got rid of it.”

  Ret froze. “All of it?”

  “Well, yeah,” Pete answered. “I figured you could just meander past the Graphie and fill it back up with the clean stuff in the Agora.”

  Ret released a long sigh. “No, Pete. That’s not the way it works anymore.” He rubbed his moist forehead overcome by sudden thirst. With water being such an integral part of this mission, Ret paused to consider his options. Return outside to refill the packs before checking in on the orphanage?

  He thought of Gabby’s desperate flirtations and the fat, little fingers of her innocent baby. Gabby could easily be the daughter of a friend; the baby, a grandchild who’d yet to be held by those same parents.

  He loaded the remaining food supply onto his back and tucked the Light Ninja onto his forehead. “Alright. We’re going to have to hurry. Let’s roll.”

  “To the ICS, or ….?” Pete craned his neck to look at Ret.

  “Yes. ICS. Let’s go.”

  They took off through the darkness and Pete’s chatter eventually dwindled to silence. As the space around them became filled with the Rebel’s raspy wheezing, Ret paused to allow Pete a chance to rest.

  He leaned into the pipe, like he’d watched Pete do earlier and opened the pack of dried fruit, tossed a fistful into his mouth and offered Pete a handful.

  “So, Pete. Where did you guys hang out before?”

  “You’re looking at it, brother.” Pete laughed. “We didn’t have a gathering place where we’d hobnob if that’s what you’re asking. Rebel life is kind of a solitary existence. You know, every man for himself.” His breath rattled as he inhaled. “I mean we each claimed a niche. A corner we’d call our own. Wolf’s was right down that shaft, as a matter of fact.” Pete nodded to the left. Ret pointed the Light Ninja down the shaft, but saw nothing but a stray blanket. He felt a moment of satisfaction knowing she wouldn’t be sleeping in that dark abyss any longer.

  He tapped the Ninja. “Ready, Pete?”

  Pete nodded and they continued the crawl.

  “There’s a T-junction coming up. Take a left,” Pete instructed.

  When they reached the junction, Ret pounded on the wall.

  “Don’t hear much of that anymore,” Pete said. “You know, paths crossing. Warning taps. That stuff.”

  “Guess I’m just lucky.” Pete added under his breath, “The battle was sick, man. Just sick.”

  Wolf’s rendition had been sketchy at most. There were holes that Ret hadn’t yet filled. “What actually happened during this battle?”

  “What happened?” Pete asked. “The Council snuffed out my brothers and sisters, that’s what happened.” His voice rose. “What happened was that I stood on stage and watched as one-by-one they were charred from the inside out.” His voice cracked. “And when the lights went out, I thought I’d lost her forever.”

  Pete’s choked silence told Ret of a story that had yet to be revealed. “She’s doing just fine, Pete. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

  Pete coughed to cover his emotion. “I wanted to die. I wanted them to zap me and end it. Unfortunately, with the power failure, the avatars became immobilized. So, instead, a few burly men picked me up and tossed me back into the tunnel. I can still hear their laughter as they spat out, “There you go, Rat. Back into your home.” Pete growled as he took on the guard’s persona.

  “Once I realized they’d blocked off every exit, I figured I was as good as dead.” Pete lowered his voice to mimic the voice of authority. “Starve him out. Let him die a slow death.”

  Then he laughed. “Guess they hadn’t counted on the mighty Retter, huh?” Pete’s tone returned with his more typical buoyancy.

  Pete seemed to take it all in stride, managing to laugh at some pretty grisly stuff. Retter grunted, unsure how to respond.

  They followed the beam of light through the darkness, and quiet settled around them. The dusty, dry air sucked the moisture from Ret’s mouth, and he collected a small amount of spit into his cheek and pushed it to the back of his throat for a moment of relief. His thoughts rolled back to the water-filling huts, and the clear liquid which had poured from the spigot taunted his thirst. Unfortunately, his immediate plan did not include an Impervious drink.

  Chapter 21

  FRAN

  Fran unglued her lids and eased onto her side. The weaker rays of the late day sun left much of the cottage in murky shadow. Tanya’s tea must have knocked her out for the better part of the afternoon.

  An achy stiffness in her neck travelled along her spine and into her legs as she reached for the water vessel. Her hand trembled with the effort but the liquid flowed, fresh and cool down her throat, easing some of the heat from her skin. Fran gulped and returned the container to the side table before lifting her head to peek out the window. A few villagers were readying the fire. Soon the whole forest would be lost in the early evening.

  “Retter.” His name spilled from fever-chapped lips. How long had it been? Thirty-six hours? More? Fran mentally wound a trail through the venting, around the Ranch, and down the chute, estimating the amount of time needed to travel each section. He had to have returned from the city by now. Who did he find?

  Sick or not, she had to know. Fran pushed upright. After the dizziness subsided, she swung her feet over the side of the bed. On a wheezy exhale she stood, still clutching the bed sheets to steady herself. She pulled in a few shallow breaths a
nd winced at the stabbing in her chest as the air gurgled through her tender lungs. She bit her bottom lip, stubbornly ignoring her body’s protests. As she neared the entry, a cooling breeze sent goose bumps along her fiery skin. She gripped the wood frame and ran her hand along its surface, enjoying the smooth, cool texture. She paused to catch her breath and gazed upon the community area from the threshold.

  The mood of the villagers appeared quiet and unhurried. Business as usual, as a few women swept dust from their homes, and others carried baskets to the food prep pavilion. Her eyes darted from face to face, hoping to recognize any newly arrived Rebels. A half dozen men created a chorus of thuds and rips as they split logs and tossed them into a growing pile. Typically, this scene included Ret, shoulder-to-shoulder with Edam, swinging a sharp axe, and secretly impressing Fran with his strong shoulders.

  But Ret was absent.

  Fran scanned the area noting a few villagers in the pavilion sorting through baskets of freshly picked vegetables. Everything looked way too ordinary. Shouldn’t they be celebrating new arrivals and preparing detox schedules? Shouldn’t the sound of children’s laughter punctuate the air?

  And where was Ret?

  Fran had to know what he’d found. Was he was back at his parents’ cottage? She imagined Ret, Chan, and Doc having a powwow without her.

  Oh no, you don’t.

  Despite her fever, Fran stumbled through the tiny village with toes digging into the earth for leverage.

  Pete. Was he here?

  She quickened her pace, half jogging to the cottage. When she neared, hushed voices drifted through an open window. If she entered, Fran knew Ema would just cluck around assessing her fever and send her directly back to bed. Therefore, she placed her back to the outside wall and slid down to sit on the spongy earth. She eased her cloudy head against the scratchy surface and honed in on the conversation, surprised to hear her own father’s voice in the mix.

  “How could you have given her the book?” His voice carried intonations of anger.

  Ben cleared his throat. “First of all, I didn’t. I’m assuming my son did.”