my rage.
“Hurry, Vi.” The urgency in Jag’s voice told me that we didn’t have much time before a search party would be dispatched. Every step ignited another angry spark in my head. I really, really hate Thinkers.
As we fled, the alarm faded. Then it stopped completely. I followed Jag as he wove between buildings, maintaining a northern course toward the Centrals. By the time we reached the border of the Southern Rim, my breath came in gasps and my back hurt. I’m a water girl, and the most I’ve done is (leisurely) row a boat to collect (lame) algae samples.
I clutched my side as the air pressed down around me. Surely that Thinker wouldn’t just let us run away. Would he?I ran my finger along my wrist bone, and the tiny knot of the tag jutted out like a boulder.
“Are we going to the Badlands?” I asked, coming up beside him as we ran.
“Yeah,” he answered. “We can gather some supplies and head to Seaside.”
“Seaside?”
“Yeah. Seaside offers political asylum to those . . . like us.”
“And the Badlands doesn’t?”
“The Badlands aren’t completely free,” Jag said. “We’re loosely monitored by your government.”
“Not free.” The words felt foreign in my mouth, as if I’d never said them before.
“We’ll be safe in Seaside, granted we get asylum.”
I wondered how far away Seaside was. But safety—and gaining political asylum—sounded more than great. “We should head for the Fire Region. The heat will mask our body heat.”
“Copy that.”
I didn’t mention the heat would also obscure the signature of the tag, which seemed to throb with the omission. “So who was that guy? He took my memory. But I know him. I swear I know him.”
“That’s Thane Myers.”
“And who exactly is that?”
“I don’t know,” Jag said. It was the worst lie I’d ever heard.
“Yeah, right. You know the guy’s name, but you don’t know who he is?” I rubbed my forehead, wishing I could cling to the pieces of memory wafting in there. “I’ve heard that name.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“And you’re a terrible liar,” I argued.
Jag turned toward me, frowning. “I am not. I’m a really good liar.” His words rang with truth, with power. Jag Barque was more than a really good liar—he was an
incredible
liar.
“You’ll have to teach me a trick or two,” I said, in complete awe of his lying talent.
For some reason, his face fell. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”
A guard station and a fifteen-foot fence with sharp teeth along the top separated us from the fields of the Centrals, and only Jag had the stolen ID card from the prison guard. We dodged from building to building, and Jag kept holding me back with his arm. I swatted his hand away.
“Do you have a death wish?” he hissed.
“Do you? Stop pushing me or I’ll kill you.”
“Vi.” He turned toward me. “You’re impossible.”
My irritation flared. “Thanks.” I peeked around the corner and prayed we’d be able to make it through the guard station. He joined me, chuckling.
“Stop laughing at me,” I said. “It’s annoying.”
That only made him laugh harder, and though he was quiet, his whole body shook next to mine. Our shoulders touched, and after a minute he put his arm around my waist.
If we weren’t on the run for our lives, if I wasn’t tagged and worried about how we were going to get to the Badlands and then all the way to Seaside, I might have been terrified at the thought of kissing him. Slowly, I placed one hand on his chest.
“Freeze!” a woman yelled.
9.
Jag and I jumped apart like we’d been caught making out by my mother.
Two Greenies approached, their hands empty. The Hawk and Baldie.
“Perfect,” Jag whispered. “You take the woman.”
Instead of taking on anyone, I sprinted toward the guard station, with Jag right behind me. I found the lack of personnel odd, but maybe this area wasn’t manned so early in the morning. Or maybe those two Greenies made sure there
“Hurry, Vi.” The urgency in Jag’s voice told me that we didn’t have much time before a search party would be dispatched. Every step ignited another angry spark in my head. I really, really hate Thinkers.
As we fled, the alarm faded. Then it stopped completely. I followed Jag as he wove between buildings, maintaining a northern course toward the Centrals. By the time we reached the border of the Southern Rim, my breath came in gasps and my back hurt. I’m a water girl, and the most I’ve done is (leisurely) row a boat to collect (lame) algae samples.
I clutched my side as the air pressed down around me. Surely that Thinker wouldn’t just let us run away. Would he?I ran my finger along my wrist bone, and the tiny knot of the tag jutted out like a boulder.
“Are we going to the Badlands?” I asked, coming up beside him as we ran.
“Yeah,” he answered. “We can gather some supplies and head to Seaside.”
“Seaside?”
“Yeah. Seaside offers political asylum to those . . . like us.”
“And the Badlands doesn’t?”
“The Badlands aren’t completely free,” Jag said. “We’re loosely monitored by your government.”
“Not free.” The words felt foreign in my mouth, as if I’d never said them before.
“We’ll be safe in Seaside, granted we get asylum.”
I wondered how far away Seaside was. But safety—and gaining political asylum—sounded more than great. “We should head for the Fire Region. The heat will mask our body heat.”
“Copy that.”
I didn’t mention the heat would also obscure the signature of the tag, which seemed to throb with the omission. “So who was that guy? He took my memory. But I know him. I swear I know him.”
“That’s Thane Myers.”
“And who exactly is that?”
“I don’t know,” Jag said. It was the worst lie I’d ever heard.
“Yeah, right. You know the guy’s name, but you don’t know who he is?” I rubbed my forehead, wishing I could cling to the pieces of memory wafting in there. “I’ve heard that name.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“And you’re a terrible liar,” I argued.
Jag turned toward me, frowning. “I am not. I’m a really good liar.” His words rang with truth, with power. Jag Barque was more than a really good liar—he was an
incredible
liar.
“You’ll have to teach me a trick or two,” I said, in complete awe of his lying talent.
For some reason, his face fell. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”
A guard station and a fifteen-foot fence with sharp teeth along the top separated us from the fields of the Centrals, and only Jag had the stolen ID card from the prison guard. We dodged from building to building, and Jag kept holding me back with his arm. I swatted his hand away.
“Do you have a death wish?” he hissed.
“Do you? Stop pushing me or I’ll kill you.”
“Vi.” He turned toward me. “You’re impossible.”
My irritation flared. “Thanks.” I peeked around the corner and prayed we’d be able to make it through the guard station. He joined me, chuckling.
“Stop laughing at me,” I said. “It’s annoying.”
That only made him laugh harder, and though he was quiet, his whole body shook next to mine. Our shoulders touched, and after a minute he put his arm around my waist.
If we weren’t on the run for our lives, if I wasn’t tagged and worried about how we were going to get to the Badlands and then all the way to Seaside, I might have been terrified at the thought of kissing him. Slowly, I placed one hand on his chest.
“Freeze!” a woman yelled.
9.
Jag and I jumped apart like we’d been caught making out by my mother.
Two Greenies approached, their hands empty. The Hawk and Baldie.
“Perfect,” Jag whispered. “You take the woman.”
Instead of taking on anyone, I sprinted toward the guard station, with Jag right behind me. I found the lack of personnel odd, but maybe this area wasn’t manned so early in the morning. Or maybe those two Greenies made sure there
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