Nameless

  "We do it because we care. It's our choice to be out here. No one is making us." His fingers trail across my back, the movement so small I wonder if he realizes he's doing it.

  The brush of his fingers makes my mind a whirlwind of confusion. I'm tense with fear, yet a small part of me welcomes the touching. I don't know which reaction is right, though. Shouldn't I hate being touched like I always have?

  "How many of you do it?" I ask. "I mean, how many people are at this station place? Do they all do what you do?"

  "We all have different jobs, but the main goal is to save whoever we can. And there's quite a few of us, but not nearly enough." He sighs when he notes my expression, probably because I look lost. "The first thing you need to know is that humans are at the bottom of the food chain, and watchers are at the top. Watchers need humans to survive, but humans are becoming few and far between, so wardens have upped hunting for strays."

  I frown, not liking the sound of that. "Strays?"

  "Humans wandering alone or in low numbers. They're easy targets and if they're captured, they become a Nameless and are either sent to be a personal prisoner to a watcher or sent down to the channels with the wardens to be sold to the visitors."

  A sickening feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. "That's what happened to me?"

  "I honestly don't know," he says. "You could've been born there if you were in an experimental facility or in one of the breeding chambers."

  "What are breeding chambers?"

  "Since humans are becoming extinct, wardens have started forcing their prisoners to breed. They keep most of them in chambers in the channels, only the cells are hidden deeper in the ground than the feeding chambers."

  I swallow down the vomit threatening to come up. "I don't remember any of that going on where I was."

  "I'm not surprised." He breaks out into a jog then leaps over a hole.

  The landing bounces me around in his arms, and I clutch onto him, interlocking my fingers behind his neck.

  "You were the only prisoner down there," he continues. "There was one more there a few days before, but they must have died before we got a chance to save them."

  I remember Blaise running back and checking another cell when they were saving me. Did I ever try to talk to the person in the cell? It's hard to know for sure when no one has names, and I never saw faces.

  "Is it normal for the wardens to only have one prisoner?" I ask.

  He shakes his head. "Not in one section. Usually, they have at least twenty or so."

  "Oh." Then why was I their only prisoner? "They're used to be more down there, I think. I mean, I heard a lot of crying sometimes, and I ..." I trail off as sadness, pain, and terror overpower me.

  "It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. I get that it's hard. My whole point in bringing this up is so you'll understand how dangerous it is out here," he says, "which puts us at rule number two: never, ever go anywhere near a watcher unless you've followed the proper protocol. It's really important that you follow the rules. It can be the line between surviving and becoming a prisoner again."

  "What's the protocol you have to follow if you get close to one?"

  "You don't need to worry about that unless you're sent out on a mission, which you won't be."

  "Why not?"

  He glances at me curiously. "You want to?"

  Do I? Do I want to risk getting captured again after being reminded of everything I went through?

  "I want to help."

  Puzzlement etches into his features. "Every nameless we've ever saved never leaves the station again. They're usually too scared to, and honestly, they don't have enough skills to survive outside."

  "I get that, but ..." I let go of him and gesture at the land. "I'm kind of already out here, aren't I?"

  His eyebrows furrow. "You're different from the others. And not just because you can communicate and understand."

  "Is that bad?" I ask, returning my hand to the back of his neck.

  He shakes his head, his gaze boring into me. Eventually, his staring becomes too much, and I have to look away and focus on the city just to get oxygen into my lungs. Is it normal for people to stare like this? For a stare to leave someone utterly breathless, and not necessarily in a bad way?

  God, I'm so confused.

  "What about the wardens and visitors?" I ask, sounding breathless. "How do they fit into all of this? Are they the same? I've never quite understood it, but I kind of figured they are since they look similar."

  "They are and they aren't," he replies. "They have the same DNA and are pretty much the same species, which a lot of people refer to as The Grim. They all look the same, but watchers are stronger than wardens, and wardens are stronger than visitors, which is why the visitors have to pay for Nameless while watchers have their own."

  "So watchers are like the bosses of the ..." I meet his gaze. "What exactly are the Grim? Monsters?"

  "No one's really sure. Some say they're devils that fell from the sky. Others say they came from another planet. Some have this crazy theory that they were gods kicked out of heaven."

  "But you don't know for sure?" I ask, unable to hide my disappointment. How can that be possible? That no one knows what they are?

  He shakes his head. "Forsaken know more about The Grim than anyone because they've held on to the old ways of life the longest. But talking to them isn't an option."

  "Why? Who are they?"

  "They're humans, but their way of life is... I guess the best way to describe it is savage. If you so much as cross paths with them, you won't live long enough to get a chance to ask questions."

  I shiver. "They sound awful."

  "They are." He wavers. "But, at the same time, it's how they survive. While some humans can be trusted, some can't, so they decided to trust no one, which is why they live longer than strays or even people who seek refuge in the posts."

  I hate the idea of coming across a Forsaken, but at the same time... "So, the only people that know what The Grim are, is the Forsaken? No one else does? Maybe you could capture one and ask them?"

  He restrains a smile. "While that sounds like a good idea in theory, the Forsakens' knowledge of The Grim is based more on legends than actual facts. But I do know someone who can explain more about The Grim to you. You can talk to him when we get to Leviter Station and ask him all the questions you want."

  I open my mouth to ask him why The Grim need the Nameless. Perhaps he knows what they did to me when they put their hands on my chest. Before I get a chance, though, he slows to a stop.

  I glance around, wondering if he saw something. Maybe he spotted Ryder and Reece. But I don't see anything around other than the city, which is still quite a few miles away.

  I look back at him. "Why'd we stop?"

  "Because we're taking a little break from being out in the open and giving Ryder and Reece a chance to catch up if they're close." He lowers my feet to the ground, waiting until I get my balance before letting me go. Then he squats down and brushes his hand across the dirt, revealing a rusted, metal handle.

  "What is that?" I tug on the bottom of my shirt, stretching the fabric. "Another one of your compartments?"

  "It's East City Post. It's not the same as the broken city, mainly because watchers, wardens, and visitors don't know the posts exist. Well, that and the fact that the city posts are ..." He points at the ground.

  "They're underground?" Adrenaline whips through my body, and my knees nearly buckle.

  "Allura, I'd never let anything happen to you." His voice is gentle, cautious. "You need to trust me, okay?"

  I wring my hands in front of me. "But you told me not to trust you. It was one of the rules."

  "I know, but I ..." He rubs his hand back and forth across the shaved side of his head. "God, you're too smart for your own good. I didn't really think that rule through very well."

  "What if I just decide that you've earned my trust?" I step closer to him, hoping the gesture will symbolize tha
t I do. "You did save me. I think that kind of earns trust, right?"

  "I guess so," he mutters, thrumming his fingers against his knee, his gaze bouncing back and forth between me and the handle. "We really do need to go down there until I can be one hundred percent sure the Tracker isn't coming back."

  "Can't it find us down there?"

  "No. All the walls down there are made of really thick steel, and they're enough that Trackers can't break through them, and their sensors can't see inside."

  As far as I can tell, he's telling the truth. Although, I don't know enough about Trackers and their weaknesses to be entirely sure. And I'm confused about something.

  I fold my arms around myself. "Blaise ... I know I said I trust you, and I do, but why is it suddenly okay to go to this East City Post place? In the car, I thought you said I couldn't go because you were worried someone would recognize I'm a Nameless."

  "That was before the car got totaled. Drastic times call for drastic measures." He reaches for the door handle but then withdraws and glances up at me. "Before we go in, I need to tell you the last three rules." He rises to his feet, standing in front of me with a serious look on his face. "Rule number three: never let your guard down around anyone that you don't trust. If you let your guard down and show your weaknesses, some people might use them against you." He counts down on his fingers. "Rule number four: don't eat or drink anything that you haven't gotten for yourself. If someone hands you something, don't eat or drink it."

  "That's a strange rule." Even in the cell, I had to eat and drink water the wardens gave me.

  "Trust me, it's safer. I have a whole, long story about what could happen if you don't, but I don't have time to get into it right now. Later, though, I promise." He ticks down on the final finger. "Rule number five"--he wraps his fingers around my wrist--"never, ever show anyone this." His thumb grazes across the number branded on my skin, and I uncontrollably shiver. "That's your tell. If anyone sees it, they'll know you're a Nameless. And trust me; you don't want that happening."

  "Why? Will they tell the wardens where I am?" The idea is horrifying. "Wouldn't that mean they'd get captured, too? And everyone else down there?"

  "Out here, you have more to worry about than just the wardens, Allura. You need to understand that some humans are equally as evil as them. To a lot of people, escaped Nameless are weak and vulnerable, which makes them easy targets."

  It feels like he's tiptoeing around telling me everything, but I'm too overwhelmed to ask for more details, fearful if I hear any more, I'll be too afraid to go inside.

  He lets go of my wrist. "Are you ready for this?"

  I don't think I am, but I nod, anyway.

  It's either go down there with humans, some who might be untrustworthy, or stay up here and wait for either the Tracker to come back or a warden to find me and drag me back down to the channels. The first choice seems easier to handle. I just hope I'm not making a huge mistake.

  Chapter Seven

  The East City Post

  After I tell Blaise I'm ready to go down there, he bends down and uses the handle as a knocker, tapping it once. Almost immediately, someone on the inside knocks back. Blaise raps the knocker against the door again, this time three times. The person inside mimics the knocks, but adds one more. Blaise does the same then sits back on his heels and waits.

  I hear a series of locks being undone, and then the hinges whine as a door is lifted all the way open, hitting the ground with a thud. Dust flies everywhere, and I start to hack, fanning my hand in front of my face.

  When the air clears, a guy with sandy brown hair and freckly skin pops his head out of the hole. His gaze flicks from me to Blaise, and a smile spans across his face.

  "Well, well, well, look what the trouble dragged in. I thought I heard a storm blowing through. Should've known it was you."

  "Tracker actually," Blaise says. "Blew through here about half an hour ago and tore up a couple of miles of line. Smashed the shit out of my car."

  The guy's brows shoot up in surprise. "Really? What was it trackin'?"

  Blaise shrugs. "Who knows? It took off west."

  "There have been a lot of Trackers around here lately." The guy rests his arms on the dirt. "It's making everyone nervous."

  Blaise rubs his hand across his scruffy jawline. "I wonder why. Usually, they stay farther away because of the fault line nearby."

  "Zaire's looking into why," the guy says, sneaking a glance at me. "You can ask him about it if you want."

  "I might track him down while we're here," Blaise says. "I have to ask him something, anyway."

  "Check the bar. He's usually there." The guy glances in my direction again before looking back at Blaise. "So, who's the girl?"

  Blaise blinks at me, almost like he forgot I was there. "Oh"--he motions at the guy--"Allura, this is Maxx." He points at me. "Maxx, meet Allura. She works at Leviter Station. Today was her first mission." He stands up and pats my good shoulder. "She got broken in pretty well. Even got her very first battle scar."

  It's shocking how breezily he lies, and it makes me question whether he's lied to me about anything.

  Maxx's attention travels to my exposed legs. "She looks pretty banged up."

  I squirm from his attention but battle the impulse to hide behind Blaise.

  "I know." Blaise gently squeezes my shoulder, giving me the smallest amount of comfort. "I was hoping she could clean up and get a change of clothes while we're here."

  "Of course. That's what we're here for, right?" Maxx smiles at me, but unlike Ryder's smile, his makes an icky feeling twist inside my gut.

  Grinning, Maxx climbs back down in the hole and waves for us to follow him. I chew on my bottom lip, nervously glancing up at Blaise. He motions for me to go while trying to offer me an encouraging smile. But I still feel unsettled as I step forward.

  I don't get very far before Blaise snags my elbow and draws me to him. His lips brush my ear as he whispers, "Maxx is one of those people you have to be careful around."

  My nervousness doubles as I nod, and then he lets me go.

  I inch forward and peer inside the dark hole. Not too far down is a ladder leading to God knows where. Summoning a deep breath, I plant my butt on the ground and dip my legs into the hole. My feet touch the first bar of the ladder, and I lower myself in and start to climb down. The process of climbing feels so foreign that I have to move slowly at first. Eventually, I get the hang of it, though, and quicken the pace.

  The ladder leads to a room not much bigger than my cell. The confined space makes my lungs long for fresh air, but what really puts me on edge is Maxx, who is leaning against a steel wall with a lazy grin on his face.

  "You look worn out," he says. "I have a bed you can rest on if you want to."

  I step off the ladder and shrug, unsure what else to say.

  "Don't you know how to talk?" he asks with a smirk.

  "Y-yes." I cringe at the stammer.

  He cocks a brow. "You seem too nervous to be from the station."

  I discreetly tug the sleeve of the jacket lower on my wrist, making sure my number is covered. "Well, I am." Thank God my voice comes out even.

  "Leave her alone, Maxx. She's had a rough day." Blaise's clipped tone drifts from above us. He appears on the ladder and jumps down beside me, skipping the last few bars. "She doesn't need to be drilled with questions."

  "I just asked her a couple," Maxx grumbles. "You don't need to bite my head off."

  Blaise dusts his hands off with his eyes trained on Maxx. He doesn't say anything, just stares, but his authoritative look is enough to make Maxx turn away from us.

  He approaches a door on the farthest back wall and knocks five times. "Open up."

  "Prepare yourself," Blaise whispers in my ear as the wall rolls open. "It's about to get really noisy."

  Right as he says it, chatter floats through the open wall. I lean toward Blaise, peer inside, and my lips part in shock.

  On the other side is a ma
ssive room with a low, steel ceiling and shiny, steel floors. Wooden tables and chairs fill the front area where people are laughing, chatting, drinking, and eating. Along the back wall are several metal doors. Lanterns are hooked on the steel walls and ceiling to provide adequate lighting, and I wonder if I'll have to keep my sunglasses on down here.

  Without saying anything to us, Maxx hurries inside and disappears into the crowd.

  "How come most of them seem so ..." I struggle for the right word. "Happy?" I turn to Blaise and find him watching me. I instantly feel self-conscious for reasons that are unknown to me.

  "It's the place." He tears his gaze off me. "The people who built the posts built them strong enough to endure pretty much anything the watchers can throw at us."

  "But how did they build them without the watchers knowing?"

  "They built them before the watchers existed."

  "Why?"

  He scratches at his brow. "From what I understand, the world was a dangerous place even before the watchers showed up."

  I sift through what vague memories I have. "From what I remember, it didn't seem so bad. Well, that is, if I'm actually remembering something or just making it up. We haven't decided that yet, huh?"

  "No, but we'll get to the bottom of it. We have a doctor at the station. She can run some tests and stuff." He steps toward the room, but I remain frozen where I am, replaying his words.

  Tests? They want to run tests on me?

  When Blaise realizes I'm not following him, he stops and looks at me. "I promise you'll be safe in here. Just stay by my side, okay? We can even get you some food and water and a shower."

  "What's a shower?"

  "It's like a bath; only, water comes out of--never mind. It'll be easier if I just show you." He moves forward again then heaves a heavy sigh when I remain where I am. "I know it seems like a lot, but like I said, just stick by me and you'll be fine."

  "It's not that." I fiddle with the zipper of the jacket. "You said ... You said they were going to run tests on me when we get to the station. I don't ... it's just ..." I shut my eyes and listen to my heart thudding. "Visitors used to do that to me. So did the wardens. I don't think I can handle getting poked and prodded by anyone else."