Unravel Me (15 page)

I nod and nod and nod and I’m so happy no one can see my face right now.

“Stop throwing boxes at me, jackass. That’s my job.” Winston laughs and grabs a package
heavily bandaged in cellophane only to chuck it at another guy’s head. The guy standing
right next to me.

I duck.

The other guy grunts as he catches the package, and then grins as he offers Winston
an excellent view of his middle finger.

“Keep it classy, Sanchez,” Winston says as he tosses him another package.

Sanchez. His name is Ian Sanchez. I just learned this a few minutes ago when he and
I and a few others were grouped together to form an assembly line.

We are currently standing in one of the official storage compounds of The Reestablishment.

Kenji and I managed to catch up to everyone else just in time. We all congregated
at the drop-off (which turned out to be little more than a glorified ditch), and then
Kenji gave me a sharp look, pointed at me, grinned, and left me with the rest of the
group while he and Castle communicated about the next part of our mission.

Which was getting into the storage compound.

The irony, however, is that we traveled aboveground for supplies only to have to go
back underground to get them. The storage compounds are, for all intents and purposes,
invisible.

They’re underground cellars filled with just about everything imaginable: food, medicine,
weapons. All the things needed to survive. Castle explained everything in our orientation
this morning. He said that while having supplies buried underground is a clever method
of concealment against the civilians, it actually worked out in his favor. Castle
said he can sense—and move—objects from a great distance, even if that distance is
25 feet belowground. He said that when he approaches one of the storage facilities
he can feel the difference immediately, because he can recognize the energy in each
object. This, he explained, is what allows him to move things with his mind: he’s
able to touch the inherent energy in everything. Castle and Kenji have managed to
track down 5 compounds within 20 miles of Omega Point just by walking around; Castle
sensing, Kenji projecting to keep them invisible. They’ve located 5 more within 50
miles.

The storage compounds they access are on a rotation. They never take the same things
and never in the same quantity, and they take from as many different facilities as
possible. The farther the compound, the more intricate the mission becomes. This particular
compound is closest, and therefore the mission is, relatively speaking, the easiest.
That explains why I was allowed to come along.

All the legwork has already been done.

Brendan already knows how to confuse the electrical system in order to deactivate
all the sensors and security cameras; Kenji acquired the pass code simply by shadowing
a soldier who punched in the right numbers. All of this gives us a 30-minute window
of time to work as quickly as possible to get everything we need into the drop-off,
where we’ll spend most of the day waiting to load our stolen supplies into vehicles
that will carry the items away.

The system they use is fascinating.

There are 6 vans altogether, each slightly different in appearance, and all scheduled
to arrive at different times. This way there are fewer chances of everyone being caught,
and there’s a higher probability that at least 1 of the vans will get back to Omega
Point without a problem. Castle outlined what seemed like 100 different contingency
plans in case of danger.

I’m the only one here, however, who appears even remotely nervous about what we’re
doing. In fact, with the exception of me and 3 others, everyone here has visited this
particular compound several times, so they’re walking around like it’s familiar territory.
Everyone is careful and efficient, but they feel comfortable enough to laugh and joke
around, too. They know exactly what they’re doing. The moment we got inside, they
split themselves into 2 groups: 1 team formed the assembly line, and the other collected
the things we need.

Others have more important tasks.

Lily has a photographic memory that puts photographs to shame. She walked in before
the rest of us and immediately scanned the room, collecting and cataloging every minute
detail. She’s the one who will make sure that we leave nothing behind when we exit,
and that, aside from the things we take, nothing else is missing or out of place.
Brendan is our backup generator. He’s managed to shut off power to the security system
while still lighting the dark dimensions of this room. Winston is overseeing our 2
groups, mediating between the givers and the takers, making sure we’re securing the
right items and the right quantities. His arms and legs have the elastic ability to
stretch at will, which enables him to reach both sides of the room quickly and easily.

Castle is the one who moves our supplies outside. He stands at the very end of the
assembly line, in constant radio contact with Kenji. And as long as the area is clear,
Castle needs to use only one hand to direct the hundreds of pounds of supplies we’ve
hoarded into the drop-off.

Kenji, of course, is standing as lookout.

If it weren’t for Kenji, the rest of this wouldn’t even be possible. He’s our invisible
eyes and ears. Without him, we’d have no way of being so secure, so sure that we’ll
be safe on such a dangerous mission.

Not for the first time today, I’m beginning to realize why he’s so important.

“Hey, Winston, can you get someone to check if they have any chocolate in here?” Emory—another
guy on my assembly team—is smiling at Winston like he’s hoping for good news. But
then, Emory is always smiling. I’ve only known him for a few hours, but he’s been
smiling since 6:00 a.m., when we all met in the orientation room this morning. He’s
super tall, super bulky, and he has a super-huge afro that somehow manages to fall
into his eyes a lot. He’s moving boxes down the line like they’re full of cotton.

Winston is shaking his head, trying not to laugh as he passes the question along.
“Seriously?” He shoots a look at Emory, nudging his plastic glasses up his nose at
the same time. “Of all the things in here, you want
chocolate
?”

Emory’s smile vanishes. “Shut up, man, you know my mom loves that stuff.”

“You say that every time.”

“That’s because it’s true every time.”

Winston says something to someone about grabbing another box of soap before turning
back to Emory. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mom eat a piece of chocolate
before.”

Emory tells Winston to do something very inappropriate with his preternaturally flexible
limbs, and I glance down at the box Ian has just handed to me, pausing to study the
packaging carefully before passing it on.

“Hey, do you know why these are all stamped with the letters
R N W
?”

Ian turns around. Stunned. Looks at me like I’ve just asked him to take his clothes
off. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says. “She speaks.”

“Of course I speak,” I say, no longer interested in speaking at all.

Ian passes me another box. Shrugs. “Well, now I know.”

“Now you do.”

“The mystery has been solved.”

“You really didn’t think I could speak?” I ask after a moment. “Like, you thought
I was mute?” I wonder what other things people are saying about me around here.

Ian looks over his shoulder at me, smiles like he’s trying not to laugh. Shakes his
head and doesn’t answer me. “The stamp,” he says, “is just regulation. They stamp
everything RNW so they can track it. It’s nothing fancy.”

“But what does RNW mean? Who’s stamping it?”

“RNW,” he says, repeating the 3 letters like I’m supposed to recognize them. “Reestablished
Nations of the World. Everything’s gone global, you know. They all trade commodities.
And that,” he says, “is something no one really knows. It’s another reason why the
whole Reestablishment thing is a pile of crap. They’ve monopolized the resources of
the entire planet and they’re just keeping it all for themselves.”

I remember some of this. I remember talking to Adam about this when he and I were
locked in the asylum together.
Back before I knew what it was like to touch him. To be with him. To hurt him.
The Reestablishment has always been a global movement. I just didn’t realize it had
a name.

“Right,” I say to Ian, suddenly distracted. “Of course.”

Ian pauses as he hands me another package. “So is it true?” he asks, studying my face.
“That you really have no clue what’s happened to everything?”

“I know some things.” I bristle. “I’m just not clear on all the details.”

“Well,” Ian says, “if you still remember how to speak when we get back to Point, maybe
you should join us at lunch sometime. We can fill you in.”

“Really?” I turn to face him.

“Yeah, kid.” He laughs, tosses me another box. “Really. We don’t bite.”

Sometimes I wonder about glue.

No one ever stops to ask glue how it’s holding up. If it’s tired of sticking things
together or worried about falling apart or wondering how it will pay its bills next
week.

Kenji is kind of like that.

He’s like glue. He works behind the scenes to keep things together and I’ve never
stopped to think about what his story might be. Why he hides behind the jokes and
the snark and the snide remarks.

But he was right. Everything he said to me was right.

Yesterday was a good idea. I needed to get away, to get out, to be productive. And
now I need to take Kenji’s advice and get over myself. I need to get my head straight.
I need to focus on my priorities. I need to figure out what I’m doing here and how
I can help. And if I care at all about Adam, I’ll try to stay out of his life.

Part of me wishes I could see him; I want to make sure he’s really going to be okay,
that he’s recovering well and eating enough and getting sleep at night. But another
part of me is afraid to see him now. Because seeing Adam means saying good-bye. It
means really recognizing that I can’t be with him anymore and knowing that I have
to find a new life for myself. Alone.

But at least at Omega Point I’ll have options. And maybe if I can find a way to stop
being scared, I’ll actually figure out how to make friends. To be strong. To stop
wallowing in my own problems.

Things have to be different now.

I grab my food and manage to lift my head; I nod hello to the faces I recognize from
yesterday. Not everyone knows about my being on the trip—the invitations to go on
missions outside of Omega Point are exclusive—but people, in general, seem to be a
little less tense around me. I think.

I might be imagining it.

I try to find a place to sit down but then I see Kenji waving me over. Brendan and
Winston and Emory are sitting at his table. I feel a smile tug at my lips as I approach
them.

Brendan scoots over on the bench seat to make room for me. Winston and Emory nod hello
as they shovel food into their mouths. Kenji shoots me a half smile, his eyes laughing
at my surprise to be welcomed at his table.

I’m feeling okay. Like maybe things are going to be okay.

“Juliette?”

And suddenly I’m going to tip over.

I turn very, very slowly, half convinced that the voice I’m hearing belongs to a ghost,
because there’s no way Adam could’ve been released from the medical wing so soon.
I wasn’t expecting to have to face him so soon. I didn’t think we’d have to have this
talk so soon. Not here. Not in the middle of the dining hall.

I’m not prepared. I’m not
prepared
.

Adam looks terrible. He’s pale. Unsteady. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and
his lips are pressed together and his eyes are weary, tortured, deep and bottomless
wells. His hair is messy. His T-shirt is straining across his chest, his tattooed
forearms more pronounced than ever.

I want nothing more than to dive into his arms.

Instead, I’m sitting here, reminding myself to breathe.

“Can I talk to you?” he says, looking like he’s half afraid to hear my answer. “Alone?”

I nod, still unable to speak. Abandon my food without looking back at Kenji or Winston
or Brendan or Emory so I have no idea what they must be thinking right now. I don’t
even care.

Adam.

Adam is here and he’s in front of me and he wants to talk to me and I have to tell
him things that will surely be the death of me.

But I follow him out the door anyway. Into the hall. Down a dark corridor.

Finally we stop.

Adam looks at me like he knows what I’m going to say so I don’t bother saying it.
I don’t want to say anything unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I’d rather just
stand here and stare at him, shamelessly drink in the sight of him one last time without
having to speak a word. Without having to say anything at all.

He swallows, hard. Looks up. Looks away. Blows out a breath and rubs the back of his
neck, clasps both hands behind his head and turns around so I can’t see his face.
But the effort causes his shirt to ride up his torso and I have to actually clench
my fingers to keep from touching the sliver of skin exposed low on his abdomen, his
lower back.

He’s still looking away from me when he says, “I really—I really need you to say something.”
And the sound of his voice—so wretched, so agonized—makes me want to fall to my knees.

Still, I do not speak.

And he turns.

Faces me.

“There has to be something,” he says, his hands in his hair now, gripping his skull.
“Some kind of compromise—something I can say to convince you to make this work. Tell
me there’s
something
.”

And I’m so scared. So scared I’m going to start sobbing in front of him.

“Please,” he says, and he looks like he’s about to crack, like he’s done, like this
is it he’s about to fall apart and he says, “say something, I’m begging you—”