Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter 17

FRAN

She woke with her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her throat burned for a drink of water. Fran reached for the container she kept next to her bed,
“just in case,”
Mom had said. Of course at the time, she wished Mom would dial-down the hovering, but now she welcomed the cool water at her fingertips. A yelp flew from Fran’s lips as she rolled to her side, and her flesh met the soft padding of her bed. She reached down to touch the tender spot and felt a bump the size of a large pebble.
Whatthe…?

She lifted her hand to grab the container, and noticed her arm, also spotted with similar lumps. They had all crusted with scabs and a tender red ring encircled each one. She had flashbacks of scratching her flesh throughout the night and remembered the pesky mosquitoes from the night prior. Had she really scratched herself raw?

She sat up to take a drink. Her head felt big and puffy. And
hot
. After taking a lengthy swallow of water, she flopped back down onto the bed and closed her eyes. The room spun in slow circles. Her eyes shot open, and she grasped the edges of the bed. Had she fallen back into a horrific detox fever?
Could it come back like that?
Fran closed her eyes and tried to ride the slow spinning motion into sleep.

Chapter 18

RETTER

“Miracles?” Pet asked.

“Sure.” Ret nodded. “Like seeing things that go beyond reasoning.”

“I’ve seen plenty of things that don’t make sense,” Pete responded. “If that’s what you’re calling miracles.”

“Good. Just keep an open mind then.” Ret tapped the light. “So, which way do we go?”

“Actually, we need to go back from where you just came.” Pete pointed toward the darkness at Ret’s back.

“I mean, I suppose we could go the other way …” Pete looked over his own shoulder and assessed the tunnel before shaking his head. “No. We should definitely take the shortcut.”

“The shorter the better,” Ret agreed. “Lead the way, Pete.”

Pete shimmied up next to Ret. “Sure. I’ll just …” He flattened himself against the bulwark and attempted an awkward stretch around Ret’s shoulders.
Is he trying to move around me?
Ret pressed his own body into the far side of the vent to give Pete more space to pass.

“Hang on. I got this,” Pete said while repositioning himself.

Pete rolled onto his back and rested his weight onto his shoulder blades. He pedaled his feet through the air trying to catch the sidewall
. Is he trying to roll over me?
Ret folded into a ball and listened to Pete grunt and wheeze while attempting to propel himself up and over his human blockade. After landing with an unsuccessful thump, Ret peeked out from beneath his forearms and saw Pete lying in the tangle of dirty blankets.

“Here.” Ret handed off the light gadget. “If you can keep the light shining in front of me, I can lead. Just let me know which way to go.”

“Great idea.” Pete agreed, while snatching the light.

Ret moved forward with Pete at his heels. Pete struggled, holding his load of blankets and the light and as the beam hopped from left to right, Ret wished he would have manipulated the light on his own.

“Hey, Pete. I can hold the light,” Ret offered.

“Oh, that’s alright,” Pete laughed. “No offense, man. I’m just a little more agile at tunnel trekking.”

Pete labored behind him, and the erratic movement of light triggered a dizzying headache. Ret paused and closed his eyes until Pete’s coarse wheezing neared.

“Hey, Pete. Hand me the light,” Ret said.

Pete laughed. “No worries, man. I got it.”

“Sure, I know. But I have another idea.” Ret torqued his arm behind him and waited until he felt the device in his hand. He yanked a leather cord from his belt and fashioned a headband before tucking the light into its fold and then craned his neck to face Pete. “This ought to hold.”

“Nice.” Pete laughed. “Light Ninja.”

Ret shrugged. “Sure. Ninja.”

With the light now shining a straight beam ahead, Ret followed the twists and turns of the darkness with ease. Even rebooting the light was as simple as a quick shake of his head and the tunnel stayed lit as they moved.

After a bit, a foreign aroma entered the tunnel. Ret suppressed his gag and halted.
Food?
As well as the stale aroma, a glowing up ahead spoke of the end.
That can’t be the smell of their food.

“What’s going on? Why’d you stop?” Pete’s gravelly voice urged him forward.  “My chops are watering. I can’t practically taste the pizza.”

Ret took a measured breath and shuddered as he released it back into the tunnel.

“Man, what I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger.” Pete smacked his lips together and Ret’s stomach recoiled a little deeper into his belly. 

Ret reached up and removed the
Light Ninja
from its band and placed it behind him on the floor of the vent. He moved into the reaches of the light coming from beyond, and as he neared the mesh covering, an odd sensation engulfed his body. The small hairs on his arms rose to attention, and a tight feeling in his throat made him swallow hard.

“They’re waiting.” Pete sounded defeated.

“Who are
they
?” Ret asked.

“Graphies. Stationed at every vent opening in the Agora. I thought they might have missed this one, but I guess not.”

Ret maneuvered around and found Pete, feet overhead with his slender body conforming to the curve in the wall. “Like I said, they’re trying to starve us out.” His voice sunk with disappointment. “No cheeseburgers today, man.”

Ret nodded. “What’s the code here?”

“Are you nuts? The Graphie is right
there
.” Pete’s voice cracked, and he held in another cough. “Listen,” he croaked. “You’re not from around here, right?”

“Right,” Ret answered.

“Well then, believe me when I tell you, you don’t want to feel the hit of one of these patrols.”

Ret wasn’t convinced. “The code, Pete.”

Pete waved his hands through the air. “Just for the record, Ret, I’m against this whole idea. But … AW7. Four asterisks for the override.” He coughed again. “If there even is an override, anymore,” he muttered under his breath.

Ret wiped nervous palms onto his Canvies before waving his hand past the light beam. Although he knew his father wouldn’t send him in without absolute certainty of Ret’s invisibility, the
what if’s
pulled tight in his throat. He turned to Pete. “Back up, would you?”

Pete obliged and scurried back while Ret swiped in the code. The venting hummed, and Ret poked his head through the opening like a mole coming out of its hole, leaving Pete behind.

Immediately the brilliance of light and chaos whooshed past him, like an asphyxiating wind. The biting awareness of the nearby Graphie was felt on Ret’s skin. He gazed at the hovering holograph, amazed at its likeness to a man.

His father had explained how the holographs had been rendered using mirrors and infrared beams in addition to complex programming sequences. Yet until now, Ret hadn’t quite been able to piece it all together. The image before him had a translucent quality, with waves of light rippling up and down its form. And eerily luminescent.
Fascinating!

Ret shimmied from the vent, pretended to mess with his shoe, then he unfolded his body with a sigh of relief. His cramped back fought the stretch. He pressed a fist onto his spine to ease the tightness. When extended to his full six-foot-plus stature, he noted his head reached no higher than the shoulder of the Graphie.
Just like Wolf had said—a figure larger than life
.

He lifted his gaze to the eye-holes from which bolts of red light flicked randomly about the court. Ret shuddered but remained next to the image, waiting until he felt confident of his own invisibility. As he stood next to the Graphie unnoticed, Ret’s heart began to slow.

From inside the vent, he heard Pete, “Whoa! Who
are
you?”

Ret averted his gaze from the vent and answered openly. “Like you said, Pete. I’m not from around here. Stay put. I’m going to take a look around.”

Ret checked for landmarks before moving away from the vent. He noticed racks of canvas clothing similar to what he wore lined behind a glass wall just to the left of the security Graphie. A peek over the doorway boasted a sign that read
Fresnos
. 

Got it
.

He moved toward the throng.

An endless river of human bodies rushed past Ret. He gauged the current before entering the flow, realizing he needed to time it just right or be trampled in their midst. Just like jumping into the river back home, he held his breath, launched, and became swept up in the tide.

Ret tried to examine the faces around him as he was pushed and cajoled within the stream. Most chins lay buried deep in high shirt collars, and Ret found it difficult to discern an expression.

A hum rose from the swarm, surrounding him as they traversed, and Ret’s gaze whipped side-to-side. A youngish looking man to his right appeared to be addressing him with an almost imperceptible jaw movement. Ret had to lean in close to catch what he said.

“Yeah, I’d opt for a lifetime of cyber-sleep if I had to wait that long for a Forfeiture Status.”

Who was he talking to?
Cyber-sleep
? Wolf hadn’t mentioned that. Was it a way of ending his life early? And so flippantly? Ret leaned in. “Don’t do it,” he shouted.

The man shrugged Ret’s hand away, skirted sideways, and disappeared—swallowed by a new tide.

Around him, the combined voices of the moving mass buzzed like the sound of worker bees, droning in hushed conversations on hidden communication devices.

The rush of bodies bumped and careened into one another, and the itchy presence of Graphies came and went at regular intervals. The squeeze of humanity left Ret feeling more closed-in than he had in the venting.
I’m drowning in a sea of bodies
.

Panic pricked from his toes up his legs. He stood his full height, searching over the crowd, desperate for an out.

Sweat saturated his synthetic collar, and a thought nipped at his core.

Get back in the vent!

Get out!

Out of this twisted place.

His thoughts alarmed him as much as the pressing crowd. How could anyone survive this lifestyle? Did this voice of desperation live in the minds of the others who lived here? Then again, if they have nothing to compare it to …

“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?”