“You have every right to be mad at me” I rushed on. “I put you guys in jeopardy. You were nice enough to give me a place to stay, and to watch out for me, and I repaid you by putting you and Honora—all of you, really—in danger. I’m genuinely sorry. If you want to talk to the others about it, and you all want me to leave, I’ll understand. It’s enough of a risk just having me here, you definitely don’t need to help someone making stupid mistakes.”
After several seconds of silence, I chanced a glance at James, prematurely cringing as I imagined the hate-filled expression I’d surely find on his face. Instead, James’s cheeks had turned pink. With his tanned skin, the hint of embarrassment was barely visible.
“I’m not mad at you, Kenly. Honestly, I was distressed when I saw you playing Helix. But I reacted excessively—”
I cut him off. “Obviously not. We were followed.”
“True. But I’m accountable for us being attacked.” The admission seemed to physically pain James. When I placed my hand on his forearm, he winced as if I’d shocked him. Embarrassed by his reaction to my touch, I quickly pulled my hand back, playing with a loose thread on my shorts to keep my fingers occupied.
“That’s not true. I should’ve noticed her sooner,” I said. “That’s sort of my thing, you know. Cataloguing details, processing information, computing outcomes, etcetera, etcetera.”
“And if I’d told you immediately that we were being followed, you could have done that. I’m not exactly keen to depend on someone else for assistance, but that doesn’t change the fact that you needed help, too. This is my home turf, my territory. You’re new here and cannot be expected to appreciate that life for us Chromes is very different, like chalk and cheese. I caught her watching us at the Techno Hut. She was alone then, so I didn’t think much of it. Didn’t have the gang look about her, either, too clean-cut. And I knew she wasn’t a Poacher.” James blew out a frustrated breath. “I messed up.”
“We can play the blame game all night. How about we compromise, okay? We both should’ve done things differently. But we survived. Let’s just learn from it and move forward. I’m sorry for not thinking things through. We won’t make the same mistakes in the future,” I said, tripping over the word ‘future’.
Thankfully, James was absorbed with his self-admonishment, and didn’t seem to notice the gaffe.
“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry, too. Next time I’ll let you in on it and ask for help,” he said, obviously still beating himself up about the way he’d handled the situation.
I was starting to realize that I’d seriously misjudged James. His quick-to-apologize nature was new for me. Had he been one of my male friends from school, I’d have needed to beat the apology out of him.
It was comfortably quiet for a few moments, both of us lost in our respective thoughts.
“So, you really aren’t mad at me?” I asked suddenly, breaking the silence. It wasn’t until just then that I realized how worried I’d been about that.
“No, not at all.”
I gave him a pointed look.
James grinned impishly.
“Alright, yes, I was upset with you earlier. Naïve is the wrong word, but I do think you underestimate how much normal humans detest us Chromes. I realize that you know just what it’s like to be hunted down. Just bear in mind, UNITED isn’t your worst adversary. There’s a breadth of wicked people in the world, most who have far worse plans for you than containment. Promise me that you’ll be more wary? Occasions such as tonight are going to become common soon enough.”
This time it was James who reached for me without thinking, placing his hand over mine, where it lay on my knee. Callouses dotted his palm, likely from the manual labor he did at the repair job. Surprisingly, the roughness of his skin didn’t bother me. It was reassuring, comforting even. He squeezed lightly.
“You mean if the Treaty is overturned?” I asked, focusing on the conversation and not his meaningless gesture.
“Yeah. Adherence is pretty lax to begin with. But it’s all that keeps more citizens from having a go at us, like the incident tonight. If our kind lose that small bit of defense…,” James shrugged. “I don’t want to consider what will come of us.”
Unfortunately, I knew what would come of us. I didn’t want to think about it either.
Bedlam, the reporter had called it. Such a weird word.
I briefly considered telling James about my Vision, what our futures held. But I honestly couldn’t think of a reason why I should, other than sharing the burden of the knowledge with someone else, to make the load I bore a little easier to carry. It wouldn’t do him any good, there was nothing he could do to stop the future from happening. Even if I could convince James and the others to run away, go into hiding in some remote corner of the world, we didn’t have the means to make it very far. And where would we go? Even those allusive remote locations wouldn’t be safe forever. We’d just be prolonging the inevitable. The best we could do was to be extra vigilant, and watch out for each other. Since we’d already be doing that, I couldn’t justify sharing the future I’d seen in my Vision with him.
Besides, I wanted to know about James’s involvement with the Circus of Wonders. My new friends had a lot of secrets. Sure, this being only our second day together, I shouldn’t have expected full disclosure. And yet, I found that not knowing potentially vital information about my new roommates’ pasts was kind of irritating.
After all, they knew the highlights of mine. I’d been educated at the McDonough School, well-trained, given the Creation drug, fought for the losing side in a war, and fled to England as a result. All of the bullet points were covered. It would be incredibly helpful if they’d all just hand over dossiers, so I could get up to speed. Short of that, I’d be in the dark about a lot.
Just ask him. What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll get annoyed? Think you’re meddlesome and intrusive? That’s about the extent possible. And he’s frequently annoyed with you anyhow. He’s not going to demand you leave. Beneath that tough exterior, he cares about other Talents. Especially after the attack earlier, he wouldn’t put you in more danger by kicking you out and leaving you to fend for yourself. There’s a thirty-eight percent chance he’ll clam up. Forty-six percent chance he’ll tell you to shove off. Fourteen percent chance he’ll do both. Two percent chance he’ll take more drastic measures.
“Can I ask you a question?” I blurted, before I lost my nerve.
I studied James out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction. If he became too tense, I’d ask something more benign, like how long he’d known Riley and the girls. If he seemed cautious but receptive, I’d plunge ahead. If he flat out denied my request, I’d drop the subject for now and revisit it at a later date.
A wary expression overtook the slightly distraught, slightly pissed-off look James had worn while talking about the Treaty.
“Fire off.”
That was an invitation to be nosy, right?
“That place, the Circus of Wonders, did you work there or something?”
In an instant, fury flashed in James’s hard eyes, turning them from a bright, shiny silver to a foreboding storm cloud gray. Quickly, I opened my mouth to recant. That was a miscalculation. Evidently he didn’t want to talk about his past—a sentiment that I could appreciate. But while my own past wasn’t a topic I welcomed either, I also never responded with absolute rage. The animosity rolling off of him was intense and disconcerting.
“Never mind,” I mumbled, standing and heading for the door to my bedroom as fast as my bare feet would carry me.
“Or something,” James called after me. “The answer to your question is, ‘Or something.’”
I stopped, fingers twisting the cool metal of the doorknob.
“The time I spent at the Circus of Wonders was not pleasant. If it’s all the same to you, I’d really prefer to leave it at that.”
“Of course. I understand.” I said, intentionally keeping my back to James. I couldn’
t bear to see his angry tone reflected in his piercing gaze and directed at me. “’Night,” I quietly muttered.
As I eased the bedroom shut behind me, I heard James call out to me softly. “Thank you, Kenly. Goodnight.”
IN THE DAYS that followed, I helped out around the flat. My initial plan to tidy the space and clean up became an exhaustive undertaking—washing baseboards, sanitizing cabinets, even bleaching the bathroom. The place hadn’t been meticulously scrubbed in a very long time, possibly ever. As I tried to erase the years of built-up grime stuck in the caulking between shower tiles, I gained a new respect for the maids at school. This type of manual labor was both grueling and disgusting. And I definitely didn’t have the stomach for it. The clumps of wet hair clogging the shower drain, along with whatever that slimy gunk was that bound the strands together, sent me to my knees in front of the toilet, praying to the porcelain gods. Not to mention the suspicious globs of dried goo stuck to the shower curtain that I had to use a kitchen knife to pry loose.
The entire endeavor was nothing short of revolting. Before the humbling experience, I’d been happily unaware of my stomach-turning aversion to other people’s germs. Once I was elbow-deep in them, swathed in the repulsive filth covering the apartment, I desired nothing more than to bathe in anti-bacterial solution.
But I wanted to earn my keep. Since I was the only one without a job or income, and the group was providing the roof over my head, I had to make up for it somehow.
On the days that Honora worked at the Techno Hut, I insisted on accompanying her. Ostensibly it was for her protection. But it also provided me with peace of mind. To be honest, I was somewhat scared of being alone in the apartment. Scared of being alone at all. Not that I ever would have admitted the fear to anyone. But the attack and my subsequent conversation with James had opened my eyes to the cornucopia of hazards that waited in the outside world. UNITED was still public enemy number one in my opinion, but at least I knew their intentions with regards to me. Sure, being locked up wouldn’t be a picnic, but it was a far cry from being beaten, tortured, or forced into involuntary servitude.
Unfortunately, Poachers, gangs, and vigilantes presented unquantifiable dangers. And that so did not work for me. My mind didn’t function that way. Since the very first beginner class on using Higher Reasoning Talents, during my second year at McDonough, I’d calculated everything. Every step was premeditated and strategic, every option evaluated and considered, every decision deliberately made based on odds and computations. Because of this, the incalculable threats made me incredibly uneasy. I couldn’t prepare, couldn’t plan. Being unable to control situations and protect myself, because of unknown variables and unpredictable actions, terrified me more than actually being caught.
Fortunately, Honora was relieved, grateful even, to have me with her on the long trek to and from the Techno Hut. And so I masked my fear and anxiety in legitimate concern for her and her safety. After witnessing my combat skills and adept use of my Talents, her perception of me had changed significantly. Instead of protecting me when we were out in public, she looked to me for protection. The role was one I happily accepted.
Still, James or Riley always escorted us to and from the Techno Hut, even if it meant being late to their own jobs. Despite James’s claim that the attack behind the Circus of Wonders was not completely novel or unexpected, it clearly changed things for my new roommates. Every effort was made to ensure no one ever wandered the streets alone, even during the daytime. On nights when Willa worked until closing at the Giraffe but wanted to stay at the Barracks—which was more often than not—I’d set an alarm for two a.m. and join Riley or James in collecting her from the bar.
On the days I spent hanging out at the Techno Hut, I would peruse the news while Honora earned tips. Helix’s sound effects and theme music called to me like a siren, but I didn’t give in to the pull. When I played it before, I’d been extremely lucky that only one person had noticed me playing the game. It could’ve been a lot worse. A slew of people could’ve observed me flying through the intractable challenges, and they could’ve rounded up posses as well. Thank heavens it had only been Bessie, and that her cohorts had proved to be inferior combatants. Still, I wasn’t willing to tempt fate a second time.
When James had a job near the café, he popped in to have lunch with me. Realizing that I learned my lesson with Helix, he didn’t revisit his lecture about drawing attention to myself. Without his haranguing, I found I looked forward to our alone time together. His surly nature was growing on me and he didn’t talk as much as the others. He didn’t asking prying questions that made me uncomfortable even though they weren’t meant to. Mostly, James was quiet and observant, which allowed me to be the same. It was something that came naturally to both of us.
The silence between us was never awkward; neither of us felt the need to fill the nonverbal space with mindless chatter. Instead, it was comfortable, even enjoyable. When we did talk, the conversation was usually about his job. The part of me that loved learning appreciated hearing about cars and how they worked. He was always taken aback when I asked questions or came to conclusions that I wanted to discuss, surprised that I found the topic engaging. Which I genuinely did.
I was quickly becoming very fond of all of my new roommates and their diverse personalities, yet something about James drew me to him more than the others. Our unsettling histories created a bond between us that the others didn’t necessarily share.
Sure, Riley, Honora, and Willa appreciated the evils that the Talented faced, in many ways more so than I did since they grew up with the Poachers and gangs around. But their mentality was just short of denial, genuinely believing that things like that didn’t happen to people like them. The group was cautious to a fault, perpetually vigilant, and took every precaution possible to prevent run-ins. And it were those safety measures, that seemed to make them so certain they wouldn’t be attacked by a gang or sold into slavery by Poachers, and that their confidence was justified.
James and I were more pragmatic about the dangers. Even though it was a disheartening truth, we were both realistically aware that any of us could easily become a statistic—just another Talent who was killed, grievously injured, or who simply vanished.
There was more than that separating us, James and me, from the others. The other members of our little family lacked the underlying haunted look on James’s face. When he was engaged with others, regardless of what expression he wore, it always carried through in his eyes. Even on the rare occasion he smiled or laughed. But it was most apparent when he was deep in thought, when James thought no one was watching. I knew the look, because I’d seen it in the mirror. The grimness came from experiencing things that no one our age, or any age, should ever have to go through. True, I wasn’t entirely aware of the demons in James’s past. Still, I recognized my survivor’s damage in him.
We also both had a deep-rooted cynicism, probably derived from our dark experiences as well. The others didn’t share our outlook. On the one hand, I felt jealous of their innocence, wishing I was still unacquainted with the horrors life could bring. On the other, it was almost troubling how truly unaware they were.
Riley would get all fired up and talk about bringing the fight to them—the Poachers, the gangs, and all of the many others who wanted to harm anyone with Talents. But his ranting was that of a petulant child throwing a tantrum, not the well thought-out and informed arguments of an adult wanting to make a real difference for our kind. His complete lack of experience when it came to real fighting was evident. The kind where the victor was the one left alive. Fighting to the death wasn’t something to take lightly, nor was it easy to bring yourself to do. And living was not always a victory worth claiming.
“It’s bloody well time,” Riley had urged one night over dinner at the Giraffe. “We need to be proactive.”
Tug was home sick again with chest pains, something that was beginning to happen much too often, so Willa had assumed the role of manager f
or the evening. Riley, James, Honora, and I had set up camp at table in the back corner of the bar to keep her company and to help out with closing duties.
“Who exactly is the ‘we’ in this scenario?” I asked around a mouthful of stew. “Because the five of us really don’t stand a chance against any of those groups. Do you have an underground army you haven’t told us about? Have you been amassing highly skilled, exceptionally trained Chromes who are battle-ready?”
“Rubbish! The five of us are plenty. You took out three wankers the other night all on your own,” Riley protested. “Just imagine the damage we could do as a team. It’s high time we were the ones out hunting for a change.”
Today his eyes were a coppery color that reminded me of the U.S. penny, the lowest denomination coin used by the U.S. before switching to Globes. The same flames I’d seen during his confrontation with Jaylen Monroe sizzled in his pupils as he grew more and more excited by the prospect of going from prey to predator.
“Not on my own,” I corrected, glancing across the table to where James sat, sipping a pint of golden-brown ale. “I’d be in the hospital with a cracked skull if James hadn’t come to my rescue.”
Instead of sitting at a table in the Giraffe, debating the stupidity of declaring war on all Talent-haters, I probably would’ve been in a containment cube under the watchful eyes of UNITED researchers. Because there was no way the hospital wouldn’t have called them.
An involuntary shudder ran down my spine, really considering for the first time how close I’d come to that ending. I shook my head to clear the unpleasant image.
“Precisely!” Riley exclaimed, as if I’d just proven his point. “If we have a stab together we would be absolutely unstoppable.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, a smug, triumphant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Again, we need more of a ‘we’ before your idea is even a possibility,” I said. “Trust me, Riley. It would take a ton of manpower and even more intel to successfully pull off what you’re suggesting. In TOXIC we have teams of Hunters whose job it is to track down our enemies and eliminate threats. But before we even assign a mission to one of those teams, people like me, Brains, compile endless information on the target. We’d never send our people in blind. So unless you have resources I don’t know about…,” I trailed off, allowing my words to sink in.