Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2) (7 page)

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 stood 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 caution 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.

The thought brought on a sudden thirst and he uncapped his satchel for another drink. Ret swiped the sides of his mouth and measured the amount of liquid remaining in the satchel. From its weight, he figured it still carried a day’s worth. He touched each of the additional three hanging from his waist. Plenty of water. No worries there.

A sudden beeping from the vestibule area sounded, and the guard snorted once or twice before his chin lifted from his chest. His eyes shot open and Ret pulled back deeper into the shadows as another guard, dressed like the first, moved into view.

“Shift change already?” The sleepy guard stood and stretched.

“Yeah, time flies when you’re fast asleep, huh?” The second guard ribbed.

They both laughed until interrupted by the shriek of a whistle. The second guard swore under his breath.

“I forgot to check in with Freddie. Can you stay another minute? I’ll be right back.”

“Sure, man. No problem.”

Guard Number Two hurried out of the vestibule and the original one plopped back into his chair. Within a few moments, his eyelids drooped and his chin fell back onto his chest. Ret crept to the border of the light and saw the door leading out to the hallway hadn’t yet sealed. Could he reach the threshold before it closed? Could he make it out without waking the sleeping guard? Golden opportunity or accident waiting to happen? He felt the challenge and moved to the edge of the opening. He looked down a few feet to a shiny floor and jumped.

Oof!
Ret quickly understood the reason for the thick-soled boots as he landed on the hard floor. The artificial light registered way too bright as it bounced off the white walls and Ret had to peek through squinted lids. Luckily, the guard seemed undisturbed and after a few long strides, Ret passed through the opening. The corridor boasted similar stark walls and, again, harsh artificial lighting. His eyes watered as he checked both directions. He scanned the horizon where wall met floor until locating a screened opening. The vent. His exit.

Just as Wolf had said, after waving his hand in front of a small light near the bottom corner, a vision appeared in the air. On a whisper, he stammered, “S*4*2*3*,” and swiped a finger through the sequence.

The grating slid open.

Despite his shaky hands, the mission was going like clockwork. Almost too easy.

With arms stretched out before him, Ret bellied through the opening and wriggled deep into the tunnel. Behind him, the hum of the venting cover clicked as it locked back into place signaling his new captivity. As he lay prone, Ret trained his eyes on the location where his hands ought to be but saw nothing. He waved his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. No hues of gray or shadowy figures. Darker than midnight black.

Like a blind man with his eyes closed
. She wasn’t kidding. As different as the artificial light had been from real light, this darkness surpassed any he’d experienced before. The complete absence of light felt foreign and heavy and skewed his whole sense of body awareness. Ret reached around for the packet of bioluminescence and whacked his arm on the metal in the process. The pain jolted through his body and tingled all the way down to his feet. His breathing picked up as he grappled for the container, and wrestled it from the confines of the pack. The same hands that could skip stones across the water’s surface, felt sweaty and clumsy as he pulled at the rope. A moment later he fumbled the package. It landed nearby with a soft thud, and Ret launched his body, landing on top of the precious satchel. His heart drummed as he hugged the lifeline, terrified of the outcome if it got away. He craned his neck and could still see just a small circle of light from the entrance now a hundred feet away. He warred with the need to escape captivity and the reasoning corner of his brain shouted, “Go back!”

Instead, he eased his body off the wrapped satchel, tugged again at the ropes, and the covering fell away. Precious sludge illuminated the space, giving Ret a shadowy view of his surroundings. Not as bright as daylight, but at least it offered his eyes a little relief from the infinite darkness.

He assessed the area. In order to move, he’d need to stay on his belly and crawl like a snake through the tubing. He also noticed his hands were already covered in black soot. He gazed around observing dust and cobwebs coating the metal. He coughed as he breathed in the particles, and then wrestled the spout from his satchel to his mouth to wash down the dust. After a quick drink, he clutched the container of light between biceps and ribs, holding it secure as he squirmed forward. Bumpy rivets raked against his body, giving Ret a better appreciation for the solid canvas between him and the metal protuberances.

After a few minutes, he arrived at the first “T.” 

Right turn
.

He plunged a finger into the glowing goo and swiped a line on the wall of the shaft to mark his trail before making the turn. Continuing on in the same fashion, Ret marked his path as he wound his way around the perimeter of the Ranch, until he reached the upright shaft.

His brain lit up with Wolf’s description of this divide.
“This is where you head down into the guts of the city. They’re kind of like enormous steps, a few feet of shaft and then a landing. And, remember—each landing indicates one floor.”

He scooted along the first landing, until his legs hung over the edge, grateful for an opportunity to sit fully upright. Ret eased his left ear toward his left shoulder until he felt a releasing crack in his neck and then did the same on the right. He swung his arms at his sides encouraging blood to refill the knotted corners of his body before launching himself off the platform.

He landed with a thud onto the next landing and then looked skyward from where he’d departed. Lifting his arms overhead, he gauged the distance from landing to landing. His fingertips just barely touched the metal above alerting him to the fact that climbing back up this shaft was going to prove a lot more difficult than this descent.