Implanted (The Ascension Series Book 2)

IMPLANTED

THE ASCENSION SERIES

BOOK TWO

Heather Letto

© Copyright 2015 by Heather Letto

Content Editor/Line Editor: Kim Childress

Proofreader: Sara Benner

Cover design: Anita B. Carroll @
www.race-point.com

ISBN-13: 978-1512369090

ISBN-10: 1512369098

Son of man, look with your eyes and hear with your ears, and fix your mind on everything I show you; for you were brought here so that I might show them to you.

~ Ezekiel 40:4 (NKJV)

Chapter 1

FRAN

After rising before night ended, Fran had witnessed the stars grow faint and gradually evaporate as the sun crept over the horizon. Now wild pink tendrils splayed from the fiery ball painting the clouds with their color. Just another magical spring morning.
Outside.

Squatting next to the hearth, Fran stirred the embers and breathed in the scent of the burnt pine. The smoky ashes smelled so different from the greasy soot that greeted her mornings back in the dark and lonely tunnels of Impervious.

She heard Mom moving about their small cabin just a few yards away. Probably clearing the makeshift bed and pile of blankets Fran now claimed as her own. She turned her head and gazed at their single room cabin. Big enough to fit Mom and Dad’s oversized bed still left room for Fran’s sleeping nook and boasted a thick wooden table in the center. Knotty wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling and handmade curtains billowed in the breeze. Rustic and cozy. Fran’s new home.

Mom. Dad. Fran never imagined speaking these words out loud again. And to their faces? Still seemed weird. Mom said both Fran and the earth were in late stages of this spring season, whatever
that
meant.

Her thoughts meandered from her parents to her brother. What would Ted say if he knew? What would her parents think of what Ted had become? A West Side elitist, married to Nissa who just happens to be a high-ranking Gamer. And trapped underground—whether they knew it or not.

Images of the arena flashed through her mind. Rebels falling, one by one. Folsom. Derrick. And Pete in his purple robe on the stage. She shook her head.
Can’t go there.

Fran sat outside the circle where the community gathered every day, poking a cooking stick into the smoldering embers. Organized gathering times, regular meals. Untainted water and air,
real
air, with smells and sounds and colors Fran never knew existed until … was it already a week? And here she sits just poking at ashes.

Mom appeared, shaking a blanket into the air. Fran turned to her mother and shoved her stick in the ground. “I need to explore. Or something. I’m getting a little crazy here.”

Mom snapped the blanket a few times.

Fran waited.

Finally, Mom responded. “I know this is a drastic change for you, but you need to practice patience in this place. Although natural and organic, there are still some dangers you’re not yet aware of.”

There it was.

Fran stood. “You realize I survived alone for an entire year in the city, right? I kept myself from starving or getting caught.” She clenched her hands into fists at the thought of Ted and Nissa living large as Westies. “And without a food allowance, I might add.” Heat meandered up Fran’s neck.

Mom paused and picked invisible lint from the blanket while gnawing on her bottom lip. She lifted her gaze and locked onto Fran’s scowl. Silent. Fran held the stare until Mom finally heaved a long sigh. “Just down to the river for a short while, okay?”

Yes!
Fran thought, already envisioning a path to the river. How hard could it be? She’d navigate the winding path just like she’d done inside the tunnels of Impervious. “Thanks! I won’t be long.”

“Use the lemongrass before you go,” Mom said.

“Seriously, Mom?”

“The river is swarming with biting insects. You’ll thank me later.”

On an exaggerated breath, Fran moseyed back to the cabin for the oil. Her mouth involuntarily grinned.
Mom
. Even if she bossed Fran around, the fact she was here and alive after she’d been thought dead … Yeah, lemongrass wasn’t so horrible.

Fran grabbed a small container resting on the shelf next to Mom’s personal supply of herbs and teas. As soon as she popped the lid, the biting lemony essence caused a spontaneous pucker.
Potent stuff
, she thought, and dabbed a few drops of the oil onto her wrists and behind her knees. She smiled and added a smidge behind her ears like she’d done when mimicking Pete at the perfume counters inside of Impervious.

Pete. The memory of his cologne endeavors snuck up and sucker-punched her with grief. She woofed out his name and stood captive in the moment like a hostage. Pete’s quirky laughter seemed to fill the quiet space and she clapped her hands over her ears to rid the sound. When the memory faded back into the dark recesses of her brain, Fran darted from the cabin and made a beeline to the river path. Once hidden in the forest, she slowed her pace and moseyed with the sounds of the village coming to life at her back.

Miniature blue flowers sprung from the ground, and thorny vines burst with fresh fruits. Fran plucked a red berry and sweet juices exploded in her mouth. To Fran, outside spring was the sweet taste of berries, mixed with the musty aroma of wet dirt and wild herbs. Unrefined.

A sudden thought occurred to Fran.
Is that how Mom sees me? Sweet and unrefined?
She drew her brows. They had a
ton
of catching up to do.

As she moved deeper into the woods, the hum of the wild drowned out sounds of the village. The trees grew denser, blocking out the blue sky, with the sun occasionally peeking in to create strange shadows along the forest floor.

Her eyes darted from rocks, to trees, to leafy shadows, surprised that she felt a little unnerved at the unfamiliar sounds of nature. Especially since her
biggest
threat was buried underground. And couldn’t reach her.

A rabbit hopped across the path, causing Fran to trip over an exposed root and nearly fall. A twig snapped beneath her bootie, and she jumped. An insect buzzed next to her ear, and she swatted at empty air. Her heart drummed like the first time she’d crawled through the unsteady air duct suspended over the Agora. Back when she lived underground. Before she’d learned the truth.

As she’d contemplated that flexible, moving tunnel the first time, Chan had laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Don’t forget who you are,” he’d said. “You are the Wolf.”

“I am the Wolf,” she’d mumbled.

“Say it again,” he said.

“I am the Wolf,”
Fran repeated with more conviction
.

“Again!”

She’d looked him in the eye, finally believing her own words.
“I. Am. The. Wolf.”

“Now go,” he’d instructed on a nod.

And she did.

She’d mastered those tunnels, able to crawl in complete darkness. She knew that’s what he’d say now—if he weren’t still in the healing hut.

“I. AM. THE. WOLF.” As the words left her lips, Fran felt the old calm settle onto her skin. Her keen awareness pricked up as a breeze rustled and lifted her soot-free, untangled blond curls.

She noticed that the buzzing which had her swatting at empty air harmonized with the subtle
swish, swish
of air movement. She looked skyward and appreciated the dance of the trees as they bowed to their leafy partners.

On her next breath, Fran licked lips so coated with the surrounding scents, it was as if she’d just tasted the color green. Tasting color? Weird. She let out a whoop and laughed from her belly. She continued along the trail, drinking in the various shades of sound and color like ice-cold water after an exhausting day in the hot sun.

While inspecting her surroundings, a lone wooden structure, somewhat camouflaged by the dense forest, appeared several yards off the main pathway. Her eyes darted around until she spied a secondary path meandering directly to the building. Fran followed the trail, and Tanya, the first woman she’d met outdoors, emerged from the threshold.

“I thought I heard some rustling.” Tanya’s green eyes danced with soft light and she tossed her dark braid over her shoulder. “Come in. I’m sure you’re curious.” She winked at Fran before turning on her heels. “I mean, I know I would be,” she added as she moved back into the building.

Fran followed, and once inside, found herself engulfed in thick, peppery scented air. The walls of the large room, lined with high shelves, housed hundreds of containers of various shapes and sizes.

Tanya opened her arms wide. “Welcome to our dry storage hut.”

“Dry storage? Like what?” Fran’s gaze moved up and down the numerous levels of shelving scanning the bounty.

Tanya took a few steps forward and extended a hand. “These contain dried fruits like raisins, dates, and figs.” She motioned to the adjoining wall where oversized wooden bins lined the floor. “This is our nut supply. We grow the almonds, pistachios, and walnuts in a nearby grove.”

“Cool.” Fran’s voice came out on a raspy whisper.

“Uh-huh.” Tanya agreed. “We have an exchange program with another village for peanuts and pecans.”

Fran followed Tanya across the room to the far wall where smaller wooden boxes were stacked upon one another, climbing all the way to the ceiling.

“And, finally, here are the teas we drink.”

“Whoa. That’s a lot of tea.” Fran counted at least twenty sturdy-looking boxes in each column.

“Yes,” Tanya agreed. “So much of the healing comes from these teas, we keep the herb gardens going year round in our greenhouse. I’ll take you there later if you’d like.”

A bustling intrusion interrupted their conversation, as Retter entered carrying two wooden crates. He grunted as he set them down and then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He nodded to Fran and then turned his attention to Tanya. “
Cucurma longa
and
Gotu Kola.
”

Tanya interpreted Retter’s gibberish for Fran. “Detoxification herbs.” Then she turned to Retter. “Would you be so kind as to stack them over there?” Tanya pointed to a clearing in the midst of containers and Ret nodded before hoisting them back onto his thick shoulders much like he had done with Fran when he’d taken her hostage only a week prior. She flashed back to the moment of panic when she’d thought maybe he was a cannibal or zombie or something. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“You remember Fran, don’t you, Ret?”

Ret nodded toward Fran. “Hey, Wolf.”

They hadn’t participated in a full conversation since she’d been back. But because Ret had helped her navigate her way back to the Impervious portal, Fran wondered if he already knew about her botched mission. If so, he was doing a great job containing his disgust. Heat exploded onto her face as she corrected him. “Oh, no. Fran is fine.”

The corner of Ret’s mouth teased into a grin. “I think I’ll stick with Wolf.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged, and thanked Tanya for the tour before making her exit. “Too hot in the dry storage hut,” she muttered as she continued along the trail, more than happy for her solitude.

She heard the sound of the rushing waters moments before the trees gave way to a grassy embankment. She removed her booties and rubbed her feet along its rug-like surface. The prickly carpeting proved slightly spongy, and spiny blades scratched at her toes as she walked the final yards to the embankment of the river.

Her toes curled over the edge where grass gave way to mud, and she peered at the snaking course of water below. The current carved a path through the earth, rushing over exposed stones and creating foamy white islands. Fran thought she heard the water whisper,
Hurry, hurry, hurry
, and marveled at the sounds of life around her.

In spite of her lemony essence, a thirsty mosquito slipped away with her blood, leaving a red trail behind. Immediately, the spot began to itch, and Fran thrust her pinky nail into the small bump as she contemplated dipping her arm into the cool water.

“Be careful of the current, Fran!
”  Mom’s voice poked into her brain. “
It’s very strong
.” Fran laughed at how she’d been able to so quickly slip into the role of “daughter” after being on her own for so long, reporting to no one.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember,” she muttered back at the memory.

Anyway, had Mom already forgotten about her water skills? Fran thought back to her tenth birthday when Mom had taken her to the simulated park.

“You swam all the way across the pool? You’re the strongest swimmer I know,”
Mom had sung while wrapping Fran’s shivering body in an oversized towel. After that, Fran had visions of joining the swim team and even wormed her way into a practice once. But organized sports were for kids with family coin. Not Eastsiders.

Fran shrugged.
Not anymore
.

Suddenly a disturbance rippled the nearby tree line, and she whipped around. She saw no one, but a prickly sensation ran up her arms almost like the sensation she felt when a Graphie was nearby.

“Hello?” She chided herself for the shakiness in her voice.

The rustling paused, but no verbal response. Fran took a small step back and employed her old Rebel voice. “Show yourself!”

The commotion continued and she edged herself a fraction closer to the grassy embankment just as the foliage parted. She drew in a breath, and her hand flew to her lips as a fuzzy brown cub meandered out. Toddling along on all fours, the tiny bear evaluated Fran with inquisitive brown eyes. Downy baby fur framed his face, and his ears stood perky like two miniature slices of pizza.