Sovereign (Sovereign Series) (2 page)

I
switch hands as a voice says, “She’s not at the fence, so she’s probably near. 
Stand by.”  I hear scuffling inside the little room and know I’m running out of
time.  With the right glove still on, and both arms threatening to give out, I
hoist myself up.  My feet land only for a moment on the edge of the deck
between the railings before I propel myself onto the rail itself.  A guard
spots me, and barks, “Here!” 

Don’t
get caught.

With four of them running toward me, I
leap forward, catching the roof with my midsection.  I feel a hand around my
ankle, and I thrash against it.  The touch gives me a much needed burst of
adrenaline that explodes through me--I
hate
being touched.  With my
new-found strength, I’m onto the roof in seconds, standing at the apex. 

Gritting
my teeth, I groan the word, “Dylan.” 
This better work
.
  Then I run to the edge of the roof and leap as high into
the open air as I can.  In a swift motion, I pull the string at the top of my
pack and two custom wings expand from it.  The metal and fabric carry me with
ease as I glide.  It’s a glorious flight in the cold, winter air, and I swear I
just felt a snowflake on my face.  Perfect, thrilling, and exciting.  But
mostly perfect. 

I
glide about a hundred yards before my feet drop softly on the ground.  I’m not
off balance, but I let myself fall anyway.  When the guards surround me, I
smile.  It’s the most exciting feat I’ve ever braved.  I see the woman guard
near the back of the group, and I think she suppresses a grin. 

Before
I can blink, I’m yanked to my feet.  “Silly girl,” the man says, agitated.  “You
sure can’t keep yourself out of trouble.”
 
Silly girl
was almost exactly the reaction I’d
wanted when I chose to flub my landing.  A perfect landing after a daring
flight would mean far more than a thrill-seeking teenager.  It would equal a
threat to the ways of this establishment.  It would mean bravery.  Defiance. 

Moments
later, I’m whisked into the underground prison, which isn’t very large--doesn’t
need to be, few of us break the law.  The guard dragging me to my cell seems
happy I’m not resisting.

“What’d
you do this time?” a familiar voice chimes from the next cell we pass.  They
got my buddy Pete again.  Poor kid.

“Flew
off the central tower.”  I’m proud to share it; I can’t hide that.  I never
can.

“Exciting. 
Was it worth it?”

My
escort pushes me a little harder than necessary into my cell.  The door bangs
closed behind me.  I slump onto the cold, moist mattress and settle in for the
night.  I’ve spent many nights in this cell, and my crime is often the same,
bravery.  Bravery leads to war, to violence, to rebellion.  Strictly illegal.

“Absolutely,”
I mumble. 

Of
all the times I’ve been arrested and detained overnight, this night has been my
favorite.  With everything replaying in my mind, rushing through like pictures
on the school computers, I’m calm.  Elated but calm, because now I know the
wings work.  Dylan will have to make another pair, as I’m sure the ones they
took will be destroyed.  But next time I jump, it won’t be from the center
tower.  It will be the tower closest to the fence where I will make my escape. 
Then I can finally be free.

The
morning comes quickly, and, though I wake up cold, I’ve slept like a baby.  I
sit up, stretch, crack my neck.

“Good
morning, 1206.”

I
nearly jump out of my skin.  “Uh, good morning, Nathan,” I respond in a
cavalier tone.  “Sorry.  I don’t remember your number.”  I’m lying, his number
is 0002.  He knows I know, but I enjoy pissing him off.  Nathan Burke is the
smarmy, creep of a man who’ll be in charge of our colony, Antius, once his father,
Cornelius, has passed. 

“You
know my number.”

“You
know my name,” I retort.  “You really want me to call you zero, zero, zero,
two?”

“I
want you to call me sir.”

He
rises from the chair he’s been sitting in for who knows how long.  His fingers
slither around the bars on my cell door.  His every appendage reminds me of
snakes.  I know more about him than I should, but then again, I spy on people
more than I should.  Plus, I get arrested a lot.

“The
sooner you accept things...”

“What
things?”

“Rules,
Cori.  My rules.”

Despite
the general sense of revulsion I get when he’s near, I’m having fun with this
conversation.  He’d never admit how much I torment him with my blatant
disrespect for his authority.  I can see by the vein in his forehead and the
tightness of his jaw, he’s about to flip out. 

“Is
this about last night?”  Of course it’s about the jump.  If his father didn’t
love me so much, I would have been punished far worse than a night in jail for
last night’s stunt. 

“The
old country used to have special punishments for repeat offenders.”  The “old
country” was the United States of America.  Today, it’s next to nothing.  It
doesn’t even have a name anymore--doesn’t need one.

“I’d
really think you would admire my bravery.  Shouldn’t a soldier be brave?” I ask
with the expected sarcasm, but I really mean this part.  Soldiers
should
be brave. 

“My
soldiers don’t need to be brave, only obedient.” 

“Well,
I’m not your soldier.”

“Not
yet.”  He smiles a little, and I can only imagine what morbid thing is floating
in his mind causing him joy when I know he wants to reach through these bars
and wrap his snaky hands around my throat.  If I get too close, he might.

“I
can’t have you jumping off towers.  You’re valuable in one piece.  Once you’ve
injured yourself...you know the drill.” 

“Disposable,
I know.  Never again, I promise.”  I lay my hand gingerly over my heart--I
think I read this in a book once--and give my most remorseful frown to make it
convincing.  “Scout’s honor.”  I have no idea what that means, but it sounds
right. 

“You
don’t know what a scout is.” 

He’s
got me.

I
wish I didn’t have to ask, but I’m getting hungry.  “Can I go now?” 

“Not
today.”  He slides to the control panel on my cell door, scans his index finger. 
He stares at me with some kind of madness brewing in his eyes.  Then turns his
head and a red light reads the chip implanted in his neck, nestled in the
crevice below his ear, at the corner of his jaw.  My cell door opens and for
the first time in a long time, I’m nervous.

Nathan
slips into my cell and steps toward me.  I feel my heart beating faster, but I
don’t let it show.  I can’t let it show.  The fact that he isn’t speaking
terrifies me and I don’t know what to expect.  The way he’s looking at me... 

He
closes the gap between us and grabs my jaw with one hand.  I’m freaking out,
but so completely stunned I can’t move.  He leans close to my ear and whispers,
“You don’t even know how close you are to being mine.”  There must be terror in
my eyes because he looks pleased and lets me go. 

“I’ll
never be yours,” I mumble.  Something flashes in his eyes for a brief moment
then he strikes me with the back of his hand so hard I stumble backwards.

“Guard.” 
He lets himself out of my cell and slams the door.

I
shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.  I had often wondered why my punishments
never escalated, so I guess it’s about time. 

A
moment later, a handsome young guard steps up, ready for orders.  A badge on
his chest reveals his identity, 497.  Not much older than me.  He doesn’t look
Nathan in the eye.  Guess Nathan was right, I see no bravery. 

“Yes,
sir?” 497 asks.

“Feed
her now.  Keep her another night.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Nathan
looks me over one last time before heading to the door, and slamming it behind
him.  I notice 497 pulling a wadded cloth from the cargo pocket by his knee. 
He pulls out a half-eaten piece of hard bread, drops it on the floor at my
feet.  Then he, too, is gone.

Two
cells over, I see Pete, the only other inmate, trembling.  He’s only a boy,
maybe ten or eleven, and he doesn’t understand things, so he breaks the rules. 

“You
hungry, Pete?”

He
nods.  Something about Nathan’s presence has taken last night’s joy. 

I
scoop up the bread and slide it through the cell between us.  It skirts across
the floor and lands in his fingers, though he has to stretch to reach it. 

“You
okay?”

“Yeah,
Cori.  Thanks for the bread.”

As
the next twenty-four hours pass, I think about many things, the most frequent
of which is the hunger tugging at my belly.  Pete’s been in here even longer,
so I’m sure he’s worse off than me. 

Getting
antsy, I walk circles around my tiny cell, stretching my arms and legs, and
shaking them to stay loose.  I take the opportunity to attempt my exercise
routine, though I haven’t quite got enough energy to complete it.  My pushups
come up short, my pull ups even shorter.  I dangle from the rusty pipe above
the bed, trembling with my own body weight dragging me down--and I don’t weigh
much.  I’m halfway through a final pull up when the door slides open.  I let
myself fall onto the mattress, landing with my tailbone on a hard metal piece
of the bed frame under the flimsy mattress. 

497--I
still don’t know his name--returns to free me, I assume, and as it turns out,
he’s freeing Pete, too.  He walks to the control pad on my cell door, presses
his right index finger on the sensor, and scans his chip, which is in the same
place as Nathan’s.  The control pad beeps, and my door springs open.  He does
the same for Pete.

An
elevator carries us to ground level where we walk into the yard and the
elevator disappears back into the ground, barely noticeable now.  The colony is
awake, milling around the grounds, none making too big a deal of the two of us
hobbling our way across the lawn.  Normally close contact would catch
attention, but I’ve got Pete’s arm draped over my shoulder.  I assume everyone
understands why, since no one screams at us to keep our hands to ourselves. 

No
touching
is the only
rule around here I actually like.  If Pete were in better shape, I’d yell at
him myself for touching me, but right now he feels fragile and I pity his
weakness.  I’ve got to get him to the cafeteria before he passes out.

I
pound on the door and yank the handle even though I know it’s locked.  A moment
later, a pair of brown eyes peer through the small glass panel.  The door opens
to the owner of the brown eyes, Dottie.  She’s about as big and mean as a woman
could possibly get, but sometimes she’s kind.  I can’t tell if today is a kind
day or not.

“We
just got out; he’s starving.”  Maybe she’ll pity us.

“Breakfast
ended thirty minutes ago,” she groans.

“He
hasn’t eaten in over a day.  Maybe we can take out the trash for you,” I offer,
hoping she catches my meaning. 

She
shifts to her other leg and I think I hear her ankles creak under her weight. 
“Yeah.”

“Thank
you.”  We push through the cracked door.  I settle Pete into a seat as I follow
Dottie into the kitchen where a large black, plastic bag sits open on the
floor, nearly full. 

Without
a word, I grab the bag and drag it out to Pete.  The two of us dig through it
for something decent to eat.  He finds several scraps of bread and throws them
down.  I look over my shoulder and see Dottie looking at us with a conflicted
expression.  Finally she huffs and clanks around in the kitchen, then she
waddles out and hands us small bowls of breakfast slush.  Besides bread, slush
is all we ever have, though the breakfast kind is usually a little sweeter. 

“Thank
you,” Pete says, overwhelmed and sincere.  We don’t even bother with spoons,
simply tipping the bowls back and drinking the contents. 

When
we’re done, I tie off the trash and carry it to the dumpster chute for Dottie,
then help Pete to the boys’ floor.  He feels a little stronger, but I still
want to make sure he gets there safely.  Since we’re late, we’ll be excused
from morning classes.  Hopefully, now that there’s food in his belly, rest will
do Pete some good. 

After
I drop him off, I head back outside and over to the hidden elevator.  I push a
button on the access pad, then open the manual keypad and type in a code.  A
few minutes later, the elevator arrives with Vance inside it. 

“Causing
trouble, again?”  He smiles.  He’s not handsome, but he smiles a lot, which
makes him more endearing.  He’s probably in his thirties, brown hair cut close
to his head like Dylan and all the other men.  His muscles fill out his green
shirt, and he stands only a couple inches taller than me.

“Of
course.  Can I see him?”

We
ride the elevator down to the very bottom floor, twelve.  Down the hall, we
turn left and walk all the way to the end of another hallway.  We stop at the
door, and I try to smash my hair down and straighten up my clothes.  I’m hardly
presentable, but I didn’t think about changing clothes before coming.