Nameless

  "Man, ruin my fun," Ryder says, grinning. "Sunglasses is such a lame name. I like mine way better."

  Blaise shoves the jacket at Ryder then positions the sunglasses in front of me. "Hold still while I put them on. I don't want to poke you in the eye."

  I freeze as he inches the sunglasses toward my face. I half expect my eyeballs to get jabbed, but the sunglasses settle comfortably around my head and over my eyes. The lenses cast a shadow on the surroundings.

  Slowly, Ryder removes the jacket from my head. I squint, expecting the pain to return, and it does, but the ache isn't nearly as unbearable.

  My eyelashes flutter. "Everything looks ... weird." I wave my hand in front of me.

  Ryder studies me with his head cocked to the side. "You're being ridiculously adorable right now."

  "Watch it," Blaise warns

  Ryder rolls his eyes. "I'm not doing anything."

  Blaise scowls at him. "Stop looking at her like that and start worrying about how you're going to smooth talk the watchers if we get stopped and questioned."

  The smile vanishes from Ryder's face. "I wasn't ... I mean--"

  "All right, you two, that's enough," Reece says, slowing down the car. "You can fight all you want when we get back to the station."

  Grumbling something under his breath, Blaise reaches for the door handle and climbs out of the car.

  "I'm going to check the area out just to be safe," Reece says then gets out of the car.

  Ryder hands me the leather jacket. "Here. Put this on."

  I slip my arms through the sleeves and pull the jacket over my shoulders. It's way too big and bulky, but I'm grateful to have something other than a ratty T-shirt.

  "Just one sec." Ryder hesitantly extends his hand toward me.

  I stiffen, at first not understanding, but then his fingers wrap around the zipper, and he zips up the front of the jacket.

  "I don't want you getting cold." He offers me one final smile before hopping out of the car.

  Scooting to the edge of the seat, I peer outside, and my jaw nearly smacks the ground. Nothing looks like I imagined it. Sure, there's similarities, yet everything is so different.

  The land is dusty and dry, and the air is laced with dirt. The cracked ground spreads for as far as I can see. The treeless land is bare. I angle my head and look up. It's a little harder to see up in that direction, mostly because of the sunlight, but I can make out the startling red hue of the sky, like spilled blood. This doesn't make sense. Why isn't the sky blue like I remember? Are the sunglasses doing something to it?

  "Allura." Ryder's voice draws my attention to him.

  When I first saw him in the darkness of the cell, I thought his eyes were kind. In the sunlight, the kindness is even more visible.

  "I promise, when we get back to Leviter Station, I'll take you up to the viewing area and we can stare at the sky for as long as you want, but right now, we need to get you into the compartment before we're spotted."

  I want to ask him questions, ask him why everything looks strange, but I realize that now probably isn't the best time.

  I can ask later when we're safe.

  He offers me his hand. I almost don't take it, but with how weak my legs feel, I don't think I could stand up by myself, so I place my palm in his. His eyes briefly widen, but he swiftly composes himself and carefully helps me to my feet.

  The dirt feels too coarse against my bare feet, the air too dry. I cough, my shoulders heaving.

  Ryder looks at me worriedly. "Are you okay?"

  I nod, patting my chest. "I'm not used to dry air."

  Agony fills his eyes. "Come on. Let's get you safe." Threading his fingers through mine, he guides me around the car.

  Walking feels strange. Wobbly. Unsteady. Complicated. I feel so exposed in the shirt and jacket I'm wearing. I keep messing around with the bottom, trying to make the fabric stretch farther.

  "When we get to the station, we'll get you new clothes and some shoes," Ryder says when he notices me fidgeting.

  I nod, almost smiling at the idea of having something to wear other than a tattered shirt. I'm so lost in the idea that I don't pay attention to the car until we stop at the back. The bizarre looking vehicle has a heavy-coated black exterior; tinted, domed windows; three doors; and overly large wheels with metal rods poking out of the rims. Definitely not how I remember cars, but perhaps I'm not remembering correctly. Maybe Blaise was right, and I really haven't been out here before.

  Blaise rounds the back of the car with his hands shoved in his pockets. He takes one look at me and his expression plummets. "Why do you look so worried?"

  "I'm not worried." I bite my lip. "I was just thinking about how ... This doesn't look like a car to me."

  He tugs off the fingerless gloves he's wearing. "What did you think cars looked like?"

  "I don't know ... smaller and less rounded. The wheels look strange, too." I feel stupid as soon as I say it and stare down at my feet.

  "Maybe you're thinking of something else. Like, maybe a motorcycle." Ryder hooks a finger under my chin and tips my head up. "It's okay. You don't need to be embarrassed about it. Blaise once thought a sink was a bathtub."

  I glance at Blaise, wondering if it's true. Blaise shakes his head, but he doesn't argue. I feel a bit better that he has confused things, too, but wonder why.

  Blaise aligns the palm of his hand to a square pad on the back of a car. "Does she know what a trunk is, then?"

  "It's the part on the back of the car," I say. "Although, the trunks I remember didn't have square pads on them. They had keyholes."

  Blaise stares at me like he's trying to figure me out. I really wish he would so he could tell me what's going on with me.

  When the pad glows green, the trunk pops open. Blaise reaches inside, peels back the padded flooring, and opens a compartment door. Inside are a few guns and a sling of bullets.

  "We should've put more ventilation in this thing."

  The red sky and bright orange sun make the piercings in his face glisten. Without his jacket on, the tattoos winding up his arms are noticeable. But they're not just tattoos. They're names woven into thorns and vines and roses. In the midst is a girl's face. She looks like she's crying, and it makes my chest hurt.

  When Blaise notices me staring, he rubs his hand across the tattoo, as if trying to erase the ink. He clears his throat a couple of times before turning back to the trunk. "I thought Reece was going to hook a fan up in here."

  "He hasn't gotten around to it yet." Ryder moves up beside Blaise and peers inside the trunk. "We can leave it cracked if we need to."

  "We can't do that." Blaise folds his arms across his chest. "If anyone looks in the trunk, they'll know the compartment's there."

  "But what if it's too hot in there for her?" Ryder sticks his head inside the trunk and pats the floor with his hand. "I don't want her to be uncomfortable."

  "Just being in there is going to make her uncomfortable," Blaise says, "especially if she's claustrophobic."

  I'm about to tell them that I'll be fine, that I can handle muggy air and claustrophobia just as long as it means I don't have to go back to the channels, when Reece comes running up, out of breath, his eyes wild.

  "I just spotted a couple of patrol vehicles on the crossway." He points a finger in the direction he just ran from. "We need to get back on the main road before they drive out here and start questioning us."

  "Shit." Blaise reaches for me, and I instinctively trip back. His eyes pop wide open, and he freezes, his hand suspended in front of him. "I was just going to help you get in. I wasn't going to--"

  The strangest sound echoes through the air, like a reverberating wave. At first, I think Reece went back to the car and started up the engine, but then I realize Reece is still standing beside me, and so are Blaise and Ryder.

  The color drains from their faces.

  "Fucking shit. They sent a Tracker," Blaise growls, his gaze darting toward the front of the car.

&nb
sp; I don't know what Trackers are, but with how terrified the three guys look, my guess is that they might be deadly.

  Chapter Five

  Trackers

  For a chilling moment, Blaise, Ryder, and Reece are frozen in time. I worry somehow they really are frozen. Perhaps that can happen in this unfamiliar world. But then another boom rattles the earth, and they all jump into action.

  Ryder and Reece draw their guns from their holsters while Blaise snags my arm and yanks me toward him. I stumble over my feet and crash into his chest, my cheek smashing against his shoulder. I start to push back, but his arms circle my waist, and he presses our bodies close.

  Another boom explodes from somewhere, and dirt bursts through the air. The ground quivers beneath me, and I look down, seeing the cracks in the dirt splitting apart and widening.

  I clutch Blaise's arm. "What's happening to the ground?"

  He tracks my gaze, and his face turns pale. "Shit!"

  "Blaise, get her in there!" Reece shouts. "Now!"

  I turn my head to see what he's so afraid of, and the sight makes my body run cold.

  Just a ways from the car is a massive cloud tearing across the land. In the middle of the dirt is a metallic, snake-shaped figure rising toward the sky, arching for a second before diving back down to the ground and crashing through the dirt.

  "What is that thing?" I breathe out in horror as the ground shakes.

  Blaise tightens his grip on me as he falls backward. I brace myself to slam against the ground, but he twists his body at the last second, and we tumble into the trunk.

  Blaise releases me and scrambles to pull the trunk closed as gunshots are fired. Darkness immediately smothers me, and I suddenly picture myself back in the cell, trapped in the darkness.

  Blaise lies down close and wraps an arm around me. "It's going to be okay," he whispers. "Just hang on and take deep breaths. If it gets too bad, shut your eyes and pretend you're somewhere else."

  "Okay," I whisper through my ragged breaths. "Blaise, what was out there? Is it ...? Is it a watcher?"

  "No." Not an ounce of fear is in his tone, yet I can feel the tension flowing off him. "They're Trackers and they're more dangerous than watchers."

  "It looked like a ..." I trail off, not wanting to say it out loud, fearing he might think I'm insane.

  "Like a giant snake," he says. "Yeah, that's pretty much what Trackers are."

  "But it looked ..." I press my hand to my forehead as my skull begins to throb. All this unfamiliarity is too confusing, and my worry suddenly spills out of me. "I don't understand any of this: why the sky looks like it's bleeding, why the land is so desolate and sad, why there's giant, mechanical snakes ripping up the ground. This isn't how I remember the outside ... Maybe you're right. Maybe I've never been out here before. Maybe I just imagined everything." That may have been the longest I've ever talked before, and my throat hurts by the time I'm done.

  Blaise's chest crashes against mine as he inhales and exhales violently. "What did you think the world looked like?"

  I picture the world I imagined was waiting for me if I ever escaped the cell. "The sky was blue except for at night. At night, it turned black, but there were these things up there that shined ... I can't remember what they were called ... stars, I think ..." An image of glittering purple and silver stars flickers through my mind, and I almost smile. "Sometimes, the sky turned grey, like when it rained, but it was still beautiful, especially when lightning lit up the clouds. And there were trees everywhere and the land was so green and lush. And the air was clear, and it didn't hurt to breathe." I press my hand to the base of my throat and suck in a slow breath, wishing I could feel the air.

  "It sounds like a beautiful place."

  "Does it exist? Or is this it?"

  "I don't know," he says. "I've never heard of anything like that, but I haven't seen the whole world, either."

  Tears well in my eyes. What if the world I dream of doesn't exist? What if what's out there now is all that's out there? What if this world is just the channels and the wardens and violence and emptiness?

  "It's not always this bad," Blaise says, as if reading my mind. "I know things are crazy right now, but when we get back to the station, it'll settle down. The broken city isn't any safer, but we have a place that's protected from corruptness. You should feel safe there."

  I'm about to ask him what the city is like, what makes it so corrupt, when something slams into the car. I'm jolted so hard my teeth clank together. Pain radiates through my jaw all the way to my brain.

  "What was--"

  "Allura," something hisses.

  "Blaise, what was that?" I whisper, shivering. My skin crawls, like back when the magnetic current between my cuffs caught the iron circle. Little pinpricks creep through my veins, tiny, festering sensations as if bugs are eating me from the inside out. I scratch at my skin, desperate to make the feeling go away.

  "Allura ..."

  I jerk back as two glowing, red eyes appear in the darkness. "Blaise, what is that!"

  "What was wha--" Blaise starts, but the car gets slammed again, this time from right underneath us.

  The red eyes dim as the metal ceiling caves in and the padded floor bowls up. The car begins to tip sideways, tossing me with it. I roll into Blaise, landing on top of him.

  "Hang on!" Blaise shouts, his hand pressing against my back. "It's going to flip."

  I loop my arms around his neck and desperately clutch on to him as the car topples sideways. I hear my name hissed again as we go airborne for a split second then slam to the ground. My body is tossed like a ragdoll, and I land somewhere between the inside of the trunk and the floor. A second later, Blaise rolls into me. Our bodies are pressed so close together that I can barely move.

  Blaise moves back when the car is jarred again. The collision sends me flying away from him, and I bounce around, slamming against the sides of the trunk. The car flips wildly, spinning out of control. I'm launched around in every direction, my arms, elbows, head, and knees banging against the inside of the trunk. A few times, I collide with Blaise, and I feel him trying to grab me, but before he can get a decent grip, the car overturns again, and we fly away from each other.

  I can feel my skin bruising as my body takes blow after blow. I finally put out my arms, hoping to brace myself, but my hand snags on a sharp piece of metal, kinking my arm. My shoulder lets out a loud pop, and I cry out as searing hot pain spreads all the way to my fingertips.

  "Allura! "Blaise yells from somewhere.

  I open my mouth to tell him I'm fine, even though I don't think I am, when the car abruptly stops moving. I crash against the side of the trunk and let out a scream as my shoulder wedges between two pieces of dented metal.

  I take sharp breaths, breathing through the pain. I can hear Blaise banging around and cursing. Then there's a click, and soft light filters through the trunk.

  The sunglasses must have gotten knocked off, but my pupils eventually adjust to the faint light. I take in the sight: the floor now above my head and the ceiling below my body. The sides are completely crushed, limiting the already restricted space. Thank God, I can't see red eyes anywhere, and the crawling sensation has stopped. Still, claustrophobia strangles me, choking the oxygen from my lungs. I try to picture myself somewhere else, someplace safe and out in the open, but I draw a blank.

  Blaise rolls beside me and props up on his arms. He has a flashlight in his hand and a concerned look on his face as he examines me. I do the same to him, wondering how badly he's hurt. Other than a small nick above his lip and a welt beneath his eye, he appears to be okay.

  "Does anything hurt?" He sweeps my hair out of my eyes and inspects my face.

  "My shoulder ..." I suck in a breath between my teeth. Just breathing hurts.

  "I think you dislocated it, but I can't pop it back into place while we're here." He frowns then pushes up on his elbows and glances around. "We need to get out of here in case the Tracker comes back."


  My eyes widen. "You think it'll come back?"

  His gaze remains fixed on the back of the trunk. "Maybe. Trackers usually don't stop until they eliminate their target, so either it did and someone sent an electromagnetic pulse, or it took off to recharge."

  I gulp. That monster could come back? The monster that I'm pretty sure whispered my name?

  "Blaise, I think I ..." I stop myself.

  He glances at me. "Think what?"

  I'm unsure what to tell him. I feel silly for bringing it up, but I can't think of anything else to say. "I think I heard the Tracker whisper my name, and then I saw ... Well, they looked like red eyes."

  His forehead furrows. "When the car was being flipped?"

  I nod. "But then they disappeared."

  Confusion remains on his face. "That's weird ... I mean, not the name thing; Trackers do that sometimes. But the eyes ... I have no clue what that could be. Trackers don't have red eyes. They're strictly mechanical." His gaze skims the trunk, his frown deepening. "We need to get you out of here."

  "How would the Tracker know my name?"

  "Trackers are usually programmed to know the names of their target. Although, considering you were a Nameless, it seems an odd. Normally, they just use the Nameless's number."

  I rub my branded wrist with my fingertips. "So you think it was after me?"

  "Maybe, but it could've been after all of us. I'd rather not stick around to find out, though."

  "What about Ryder and Reece? Maybe they could help us get out of here?"

  "Hmmm ..." is all he says.

  Worry sets in. "They're okay, right?"

  His lips part, but then he wavers. "Look, Allura, I don't want to feed you a bunch of bullshit, so I'm just going to be blunt because that's what I do. A Tracker slammed into our car a ton of fucking times, which probably means we're miles away from where we first were. We're way off course, and since we don't have a vehicle, it's going to take longer to get to the station. Blaise and Reece could be anywhere, but I can't risk hauling you around to look for them. It's too dangerous, and it's against protocol. And besides, whatever you saw--those eyes--they had to belong to something, and while I'm really fucking curious what that something is, I'd rather not have you with me when I find out. I need to get you somewhere safe."

  "But what if Ryder and Reece are hurt?" I cradle my arm against my chest. Am I afraid? Yes. But I'm also worried. And the worry is outweighing the fear. "Or what if the Tracker comes back and goes after them?"