Unleashed
Page 45
“Actually, yes.” He moves past the computers to stand before a large map on the wall and waves a broad hand at it. “Before you leave, you could help me.”
“Help you? How?”
“Well, help us. You’re not the usual carrier passing through here.” His amber eyes roam my face, and something warm blossoms in my chest and spreads through me. For a moment I think that maybe he really sees something in me that sets me apart from everyone else here. That he might think I’m special. That I’m not my worst nightmare but still a normal girl. Crazy, I know. I might believe my carrier status doesn’t define me, but it definitely makes me anything but normal. Although he’s a carrier, too, and it doesn’t appear to stop him from . . . well, from anything. He’s here, living, fighting. He’s not full of shame. He’s determined to carve a future not just for himself but for others.
“Your special camp . . . can you show me where it is?” he asks, and I deflate. Just because I was in a special camp does not mean I’m special to him. “It could be useful to know.”
I step up to the map and study it. Several flags of different colors riddle the country, most concentrated in the Southwest, but some flags reach as far north as New England. “What are all these?”
He points to the red flags, which are the scarcest. “The red flags are known Agency checkpoints and headquarters.” He moves to the green flags scattered throughout the country. “These are detention camps.”
I point at the concentration of yellow flags along the border. “Those?”
“Border checkpoints. And these.” He motions to the little black tacks. “These are the locations of known resistance cells.”
I look at him sharply. He stares back at me, so open and forthcoming. He trusts me enough to show me this.
Nodding, I turn back to the map and point to New Mexico and wave west of Albuquerque. “We were about an hour west of here. I don’t know more than that.” I didn’t exactly take note when we were brought there, and I especially was in no frame of mind to pay attention when we left. Plus, it was the middle of the night then.
“Were there other camps? Like the one you were at?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. At least they made it sound like we were the only one. There was always the threat that if we didn’t cooperate or perform up to level, they’d send us to a detention camp.”
“What were your supplies like there? Food? Weapons?”
“Plenty of both. They trained us with all kinds of weapons, and we were always well fed.”
Frowning, he stares at the map, and I take advantage of his distraction and study him freely. The dark fall of his hair against his forehead. The straight bridge of his nose over well-carved lips. He doesn’t have dimples exactly, but twin brackets dent his cheeks, right beside his mouth. My chest tightens.
Shaking my head, I follow his gaze. “I’d leave it alone.”
He looks at me again.
“The camp,” I add. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I wouldn’t mess with it. There’s a reason we ran from there.”
“And what was that?”
“It was changing me. And that was the point. Their goal. They wanted to shape us. You’re thinking you might find carriers there with training . . . special skills. Right?”
He nods.
“Well, you’ll find that, but you’ll also find something else.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re taking away their hearts. Training them to be machines. Some of those carriers there . . . they were only too happy to become mindless assassins.”
He assesses me for a moment before saying with conviction, “They could never have done that to you.”
I snort. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I’m a good judge of character. My father always said I could size a person up. It’s a particular talent of mine.” He grins almost smugly, and I have to fight down a smile of my own. He’s even better-looking with that cocky grin.
“Yeah? You’ve sized me up then?”
“Yep.”
A frisson of discomfort rushes through me, but still I hear myself ask, “And what do you see?” I have to know.
“Someone way too hard on herself, who needs to stop believing what others say about her . . . especially what some stupid lab report says. She needs to stop believing that a test can define who she is.”
I laugh hoarsely and hug myself, my fingers flexing on my arms. “You see all that, huh?”
He looks back at the map. “You chose to escape that place. That says it all. You didn’t stay to let them warp you into some heartless machine. You escaped. And now you’re here.”
I’m here. With him.
Something loosens inside me as I realize he’s right. I didn’t stay. Leaving Mount Haven . . . yeah, that means I’m different.
My skin shivers as the idea takes hold and settles deep . . . as his gaze drills into me, seeing beneath the surface to the real me. The me I’m not even sure I know anymore. It’s disconcerting to think he sees more than I can of myself—but a relief, too. Because listening to him, the girl he sees when he looks at me isn’t lost. My stomach flutters beneath his amber-eyed examination.
“You have an amazing voice,” I blurt, both deliberately and not. He does have an amazing voice. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. But I also feel desperate to break free from his scrutiny.
“Help you? How?”
“Well, help us. You’re not the usual carrier passing through here.” His amber eyes roam my face, and something warm blossoms in my chest and spreads through me. For a moment I think that maybe he really sees something in me that sets me apart from everyone else here. That he might think I’m special. That I’m not my worst nightmare but still a normal girl. Crazy, I know. I might believe my carrier status doesn’t define me, but it definitely makes me anything but normal. Although he’s a carrier, too, and it doesn’t appear to stop him from . . . well, from anything. He’s here, living, fighting. He’s not full of shame. He’s determined to carve a future not just for himself but for others.
“Your special camp . . . can you show me where it is?” he asks, and I deflate. Just because I was in a special camp does not mean I’m special to him. “It could be useful to know.”
I step up to the map and study it. Several flags of different colors riddle the country, most concentrated in the Southwest, but some flags reach as far north as New England. “What are all these?”
He points to the red flags, which are the scarcest. “The red flags are known Agency checkpoints and headquarters.” He moves to the green flags scattered throughout the country. “These are detention camps.”
I point at the concentration of yellow flags along the border. “Those?”
“Border checkpoints. And these.” He motions to the little black tacks. “These are the locations of known resistance cells.”
I look at him sharply. He stares back at me, so open and forthcoming. He trusts me enough to show me this.
Nodding, I turn back to the map and point to New Mexico and wave west of Albuquerque. “We were about an hour west of here. I don’t know more than that.” I didn’t exactly take note when we were brought there, and I especially was in no frame of mind to pay attention when we left. Plus, it was the middle of the night then.
“Were there other camps? Like the one you were at?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. At least they made it sound like we were the only one. There was always the threat that if we didn’t cooperate or perform up to level, they’d send us to a detention camp.”
“What were your supplies like there? Food? Weapons?”
“Plenty of both. They trained us with all kinds of weapons, and we were always well fed.”
Frowning, he stares at the map, and I take advantage of his distraction and study him freely. The dark fall of his hair against his forehead. The straight bridge of his nose over well-carved lips. He doesn’t have dimples exactly, but twin brackets dent his cheeks, right beside his mouth. My chest tightens.
Shaking my head, I follow his gaze. “I’d leave it alone.”
He looks at me again.
“The camp,” I add. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I wouldn’t mess with it. There’s a reason we ran from there.”
“And what was that?”
“It was changing me. And that was the point. Their goal. They wanted to shape us. You’re thinking you might find carriers there with training . . . special skills. Right?”
He nods.
“Well, you’ll find that, but you’ll also find something else.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re taking away their hearts. Training them to be machines. Some of those carriers there . . . they were only too happy to become mindless assassins.”
He assesses me for a moment before saying with conviction, “They could never have done that to you.”
I snort. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I’m a good judge of character. My father always said I could size a person up. It’s a particular talent of mine.” He grins almost smugly, and I have to fight down a smile of my own. He’s even better-looking with that cocky grin.
“Yeah? You’ve sized me up then?”
“Yep.”
A frisson of discomfort rushes through me, but still I hear myself ask, “And what do you see?” I have to know.
“Someone way too hard on herself, who needs to stop believing what others say about her . . . especially what some stupid lab report says. She needs to stop believing that a test can define who she is.”
I laugh hoarsely and hug myself, my fingers flexing on my arms. “You see all that, huh?”
He looks back at the map. “You chose to escape that place. That says it all. You didn’t stay to let them warp you into some heartless machine. You escaped. And now you’re here.”
I’m here. With him.
Something loosens inside me as I realize he’s right. I didn’t stay. Leaving Mount Haven . . . yeah, that means I’m different.
My skin shivers as the idea takes hold and settles deep . . . as his gaze drills into me, seeing beneath the surface to the real me. The me I’m not even sure I know anymore. It’s disconcerting to think he sees more than I can of myself—but a relief, too. Because listening to him, the girl he sees when he looks at me isn’t lost. My stomach flutters beneath his amber-eyed examination.
“You have an amazing voice,” I blurt, both deliberately and not. He does have an amazing voice. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. But I also feel desperate to break free from his scrutiny.
