Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) (6 page)

Come on,
Talia
, I thought bitterly.
You know better than that. TOXIC would never risk
the lives of that many operatives to save a few. The Director would
never allow such a rescue, we all knew what we’d signed up for.
Unless, of course, it’s
you
who needs saving. In that case, to hell with
everyone else. Let’s all parade off to our executions, to save
Talia. Even if it’s from herself and her own asinine
decisions.

In my fury, my mental
diatribe had forgotten—Director McDonough was dead. It was still so
hard to believe. He’d dedicated his entire life to making the lives
of Talented better. And now, he wasn’t calling the shots anymore.
He was— Wait…was
anyone
calling the shots? No, I realized. There must not
be anyone in charge anymore. Because no one would’ve authorized
Alana’s ridiculous mission. No one had taken the helm. TOXIC, the
greatest organization on earth, had died with its greatest
Director.

Another realization seared
through my mind, this one leaving me cold and terrified. With no
one in charge, with TOXIC gone…I was truly, genuinely,
absolutely…alone. My heart sank all the way to my feet, stopping
only when it hit the floorboards. I’d felt alone for weeks now, but
I’d thought it was just temporary. I’d thought that I just had to
survive for a while, to stay off of the radar. I’d thought that,
eventually, TOXIC would make it safe for me to come home. Or maybe
they’d even come rescue me, take me back to fight alongside my
brethren. We
had
to fight for our autonomy, to stand up to UNITED. For the
right to make the world a better place.

Now I knew that all of that was just
hope-filled delusions. This was it. This was reality. Permanent
reality. It was only me, alone. No one else was here, no one else
was coming. No one cared what happened to me. No one had my back.
No one would come to my rescue if I was captured.

I couldn’t even count on my
mom. Sure, she was a strong woman. If she got wind that UNITED had
me, she’d probably sit outside their headquarters with a homemade
sign, demanding my freedom. But that was about the scope of her
ability to help. Obviously, that tactic would get her nowhere.
Alana’s parents were
in
Manhattan, and UNITED was still taking
her.

Why was UNITED doing this? Sure, okay,
arresting Alana and the others was necessary. They’d actually done
something wrong. But UNITED would’ve arrested them eventually even
if they hadn’t broken in to the Embassy building. That crew
would’ve been hunted down and brought in, regardless. They were
being arrested because they were Created. And that’s what they’d be
punished for.

This was exactly what Director McDonough had
predicted. UNITED was selfish. They wanted the Talented to remain
an elite class; an exclusive group that not everyone could be a
part of. Allowing everyone to receive the Creation Drug meant that
anyone who wanted to could be Talented. And if anyone could be
Talented, it was no longer special.

Stupid. Selfish and stupid.

WITH EVERYTHING I’D come to accept in the
past minute, I’d had enough realizations to last a lifetime. And
they would, in fact, be lasting my lifetime. No more shelter and
food and camaraderie, training or purpose. Director McDonough had
given me all of those things. And they’d died along with him.

Seeing all of those faces—Talia’s smug,
Alana’s bleak, and the Councilwoman’s radiating confidence as she
assured the world she had everything under control—it made me want
to snap somebody’s neck. Talia should be the one arrested,
controlled by guards. She was the traitor. I couldn’t bear to think
of Alana’s impending future. How Talia and the Councilwoman, and
everyone who worked for UNITED, could sleep at night was beyond
me.

Not wanting to see anymore, I threw the
communicator aside and laid back on the bed, one arm flung over my
eyes. I was too agitated to lay there, too angry. I needed to move.
To do something. Anything. To let off steam before I burst into
flames.

Scooping up my bag again, I stormed through
the doorway and down the stairs once more. Another cursory wave at
the girl sitting behind the desk, and I was back out in to the
London night. The streets were busier now, people hustling to bars
and restaurants, all looking to have a good time. Pulling my hood
over my head, I let myself be swept up in the crowds.

A century ago, this area—now commonly
referred to as the Slums—had been prosperous: a thriving metropolis
of high-end fashion, cutting-edge musicians, and the greatest
theatrical performances the world over. But like most cities near a
major waterway, London had fallen into decay and poverty after the
Great Contamination. After all but the poorest residents fled to
the country, businesses closed down. Pubs boarded up. The seat of
British power was transferred to Coventry. Those who remained in
the city by the Thames struggled to survive. Many did not.

Not from drinking tainted water or eating
contaminated food, as had been the fear of those who left the city,
but from dehydration and starvation. With the merchants gone, and
trade nonexistent, the people who remained in London were left with
few options for sustenance. Supposedly, the people who lived
through those years survived by eating city rats, stray pets, and
anything questionably edible that they fished out of the
Thames.

Whether the harrowing tales of survival are
actually true, or just folklore, no one seems to know. But,
unquestionably, those who remained in the city post-contamination
and lived through it were…rewarded. Well, some considered it a
blessing. Others a curse worse than dying. Good or bad, their
resilience paid off. Not only did they live, but there was a marked
increase in fertility rates. Almost all resulted in a healthy
child. And every child born in the city at that time was special.
Talented. While the global Talent population has severely declined
over the decades, London’s has remained steady. It was now home to
the largest concentration of Talents in the world, outside of
TOXIC. Actually, now that TOXIC was gone, London was it. Talented
City.

While the Slums were still considered
off-limits to most, the young and privileged liked to walk on the
wild side. They trekked down from Northampton, Birmingham, and
Manchester for long nights of drinking and debauchery at the
nightclubs and live sex shows. They thought themselves daring for
braving the dangerous streets littered with pickpockets,
prostitutes, and drug pushers. And the Talented. Tonight, I was
tempting fate by walking among them, as well.

Sporting a pair of ripped jeans that were
five wears past needing washing, a black sweatshirt with the hood
obscuring my dirty brown hair, and an overwhelming urge to take out
my anger with UNITED and Talia on the first person who glanced in
my direction, I fit right in. The outsiders barely glanced at me as
I entered the flow of foot traffic on Fleet Street.

Picturing Alana standing behind the
Councilwoman, flanked by guards eager to take her to her death, the
hollow feeling in my gut turned to a knot of rage. It burned my
insides, driving away the hunger and exhaustion and breathing life
into my senses. I increased my pace as I wove between groups of
teenagers and twenty-somethings. Their drunken laughter was grating
on my nerves. Someone bumped into me, a pointy elbow poking my
ribs.

“
Watch it,” a girl’s voice
snapped in my ear.

The old me, the girl who’d been known as the
“awkward one” amongst my group of friends at the McDonough
School—Alana was the pretty one, Francie the smart one—would have
been quick to apologize. The new me, the chemically enhanced,
genetically altered girl who’d fought in a battle for the history
books and was currently filled with rage, thought it was the pointy
elbower who should do the apologizing.

“
You
watch it,” I hissed back.

At 5’7”, I am taller than most of my girl
friends back home. Even before my involuntary diet, I’d been thin.
But the training regimen Donavon had designed for me in preparation
for my Hunters’ tryout, had given me a fair amount of muscle. Not
to mention all the cool moves he’d taught me and the weapons I’d
learned to use. I wasn’t someone to mess with.

The girl who’d run into me was my height
with impossibly large, patterned blue-green eyes that looked like
stained glass. Her golden hair was in barrel curls that rested
perfectly on slim shoulders and somehow managed to appear sleek,
despite the light drizzle. She wore a slip of a dress in lilac that
hugged her slim frame in all the right places, giving the illusion
of curves.

She glared at me, wrinkling her button of a
nose as her gaze traveled from where my big toe was poking through
the top of my right sneaker to the fist-sized holes in both knees
of my jeans to the grimy sweatshirt I’d been living in for weeks.
Disgust might as well have been tattooed on her forehead. The old
me would’ve shrunk under her appraisal, self-consciously stared at
the ground and tried to blend into my surroundings. But I didn’t
feel self-conscious at all. In fact, I felt the urge to punch her
right in her flared nostrils.

“
What are you, homeless or
something?” she asked. “You sure smell like you are.” Her cackling
laughter was echoed by her friends. When she blew a mouthful of
wine breath in my face, it had the same effect as throwing
high-proof alcohol on a fire. My temper flared up, high and
hot.

Walk
away
.

That same voice that had
urged me to
be calm
at the pub was back. And just like before, the advice was
sound. Getting in a fight over something so stupid was just…stupid.
If we did get into a fight, I’d beat the crap out of her, and then
someone might call the cops. And I couldn’t have that. Even if I
got away, the story of my abilities would be enough. As soon as the
authorities realized I was Created, UNITED would come scoop me up
and take me away, never to be heard from or seen again.

The gaggle of five girls standing around the
drunk blonde still laughed right along with their queen, all of
them reeking of expensive alcohol and sweet tobacco smoke. I balled
my fists at my sides and turned away, counting to ten very slowly
to calm myself, just the way I’d seen Talia do when she got worked
up.

Talia Lyons. Not just
Alana’s jailor. But also the reason I’d been forced to flee the
States at all, leaving behind everyone and everything I have ever
known.
Her
name
flashing through my mind had the opposite effect of what I’d been
going for. Instead of becoming calmer, my muscles tensed and air no
longer seemed to reach my lungs. The London slums disappeared as I
was suddenly transported back to the last time I’d seen Talia Lyons
in the flesh.

I was standing guard outside the Director’s
penthouse hotel room when Talia and her boyfriend, Erik Kelley,
appeared in the hallway. Hatred for my former mentor ran impossibly
deep, rooted in my very core. And I hadn’t hesitated to attack
her.

Traitor. Betrayer.
Liar
.

The words blinked in my head now just as
they had then.

Talia didn’t once try to defend herself, not
even when I finally had the blade directly over her heart. She’d
remained calm. And I was unable to make the kill, despite the voice
in my head screaming that she was my enemy. I remember being
confused; knowing in my brain that I hated Talia, but feeling as
though we were still friends.

Erik Kelley had not been as merciful as his
girlfriend. He killed the other guard I stood watch with, barely
breaking a sweat. Then, he turned his rage on me. He’d snatched me
up as if I were nothing more than a ragdoll. Held by the throat
against the wall, my dangling feet were unable to find the ground.
I saw my death in his turquoise irises—so beautiful, so lethal.

But once Talia disappeared
inside the Director’s hotel room, Erik told me to run. He’d been
convincing, implanting the idea in my head and making it my own
before I had a chance to decide how I wanted to handle the
situation. His decision to let me live wasn’t generosity or pity.
He’d stopped short of taking my life for
her
. Because she didn’t wish me dead.
In that brief moment before Erik released me, I saw the loathing,
felt how badly he wanted my blood on his hands. All because I had
tried to hurt her. That knowledge made me despise Talia even
more.

Fingers snapped in front of my face, pulling
me back to the present. I blinked up at the blonde girl.