Read Online Recoil by Joanne Macgregor - Free Book Online Page B

news. When my folks told me — dude! I was blown away.”
    “What? What is it?” I demanded, but Bruce would only tempt me
with hints about what he knew, and taunt me with what I didn’t, all the way
back to the bus.
    The minute I was in the seat next to my mother, I turned to her
and said firmly, “Mom, you tell me that good news, right here, right now.”
    “What news?” said Robin, turning around from the row in front to
face us. His mood had improved now that the social was
coming to a close.
    Mom smiled at both of us. “I was going to save it for later, when
we have our brownies.”
    “Mother, now!”
    “Tell us,” Robin chimed in.
    “No one else is supposed to know,” she whispered. “I’m not even
sure I can bring myself to let you go.”
    Robin and I pulled our heads in close to hear her. “The good
news, Jinxy , is…” She reached into her pocket, pulled
out a printed email and scanned it until she found the part she was looking
for, then she read it out to us very softly, “Is that based on your performance
in The Game and the simulation prize, you have been selected as a recruit for
the Advanced Skills Training Program at the Advanced Specialized Training
Academy, ASTA. On the first of May, if you so desire, you will begin your
training to become a member of their first ever elite sniper squad.”
    “I’m going to be a sniper?” I whispered back, stunned. “What —”
    “Hold on, let me finish,” said Mom, trying to find her place on
the letter. “Ah, here it is: ‘to be deployed in the elimination of dangerous
rodents’.”
    Robin cackled with laughter.
    “You’re not going to be a sniper, Jinxy ,
you’re going to be a ratter!”

Chapter 9
    Pirate
    I sat in the black Hummer, facing its new occupant, intensely
aware of many things all at once. His long, lean frame and dark-mahogany hair —
worn a little too long, so that the end bits curled against his neck. The
silver ring threaded through one of the dark brows above eyes the color of
slate, eyes which crinkled at the corners. The heat warming my cheeks. And an
irrepressible urge to smile back building inside me.
    He was wearing the lightest of protection — thin gloves and a
basic surgical-style gauze mask which I knew from Mom’s lectures on the subject
would stop only particles and droplets coming at you from the front, and did
little for airborne viruses. I could — almost — see the edges of his mouth
smiling beyond the mask’s loose-fitting sides. Risky stuff.
    This morning, I had been determined not to be the only person
wearing way more protection than anyone else, so I’d smuggled an E97 mask in my
pocket to swap out before I got into the transport. I’d already said my
goodbyes to Robin and my mother separately.
    “Robin, please keep an eye on Mom. I know she’ll worry about me,
but don’t let her get too anxious or, you know, go … dark. Again. Come out of
your cave occasionally and spend some time with her, okay? Promise me.”
    “Sure.” He gave me a tight hug.
    “And please do the waste incineration for her.” The chore of
lugging the contents of the bio-disposal bins to the basement and feeding them
into the incinerator had always been mine. “You know how it freaks her out when
she has to touch that stuff.”
    “Don’t worry about us, Jinxy . Go and
have fun with your rats.” He was grinning.
    “I totally intend to have fun,” I said, ignoring his tease.
“That’s why I need to know you’ll take care of Mom.”
    Downstairs, my mother made final adjustments to my respirator,
zipped my PPE suit right up to my throat, and tucked a bottle of hand sanitizer
and a pack of antiseptic wipes into my pocket. Her eyes were anxious even as
she smiled down at me — the child who was Daddy’s little girl but who for
months had made Mom grilled cheese sandwiches or tuna salad for dinner, brought
her water to take her meds, nagged Robin to get to school on time, and later,
to log on for his