First (6 page)

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes!”

He arches his eyebrows. Apparently that wasn’t the response he expected. “You’re very candid about this. Most Seconds jump at the chance to serve their country in this manner.”

I bite my bottom lip.
Am I doing the right thing? I don’t even know him, so I’ll give him the safe answer.
“I just… I don’t want to leave the farm. I want to stay here with my mom and brother. With Tanner. It’s the only place I’ve ever known.” Maybe if I tell him I was responsible for the death of my little sister, he’ll let me go.
Is it worth it? No, I can’t.

“That’s perfectly understandable. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Socrates is not like the other Firsts. He does things a bit differently. I expect he’ll take this information in stride, but I doubt it’ll alter his decision.”

Gerald knocks on the door. “Mr. Flannigan, sir?”

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?”

“No sir, but there’s a call for you from the press secretary at the Smith. He wants more information regarding the Second’s arrival. Do you have time to take the call?”

“Certainly, Gerald. Thank you.” Flannigan glances at me. “You may leave now. I think I’ve learned quite a bit from our first day together.” He gets up and strides from the room as fast as his short little legs can carry him.

Nothing Left to Lose

Socrates

I
hunch over the desk in
my study, fingers tapping out the next words to my newest book,
Life Throughout the Ages,
on my ancient keyboard. Another antique, just like me. The manuscript contains vignettes describing important historical events from the point-of-view of people who lived through them and are still here to talk about it. Honestly, if it sells more than a handful of copies to people other than university patrons or other Firsts, I’ll be impressed. The common man doesn’t care much for what he can’t see, feel, or experience, but the university asked me to write a book, so I tap away.

The phone rings, and I pick it up, hand shaking. “Hello?”

“Socrates, it’s me, Edward.”

“My dear friend.” I smile and lean back in my chair. “To what honor can I attribute a call at…” I look at the grandfather clock tick-tocking in the corner of the room, “… ten thirty-two in the evening?”

“You wanted an update. Don’t get snippy with me, either. I can tell you’re still awake.”

“You’re quite right. How did the first day go?”

“She’s trouble, that one. Defensive and making demands already.”

Sitting up straighter in my chair, I chuckle. “What could she possibly want? She’s already Absolved.”

“Vaccines. For diseases that sweep through the farms every few years. Do you know anything about this?” He sounds angry. His words’ staccato notes clang in my ears.

I pause, and it must be too long, because Edward clears his throat. “Socrates? Are you still there?”

“She’ll be vaccinated when she gets to the Smith.” Does he notice my slip-up? My avoidance of his question?

I hear him sigh over the line, as if I have truly betrayed him by not telling him the truth. “Not for her, for her family and everyone else at the farm.”

“Hmm…”

“And you didn’t know anything about this?” He doesn’t believe me. I can tell it in his voice.

“I’ve heard rumors…” I lean back in my chair. “Of experiments. Ways to lessen the population crush by testing new disease combinations and mutations on the farms. Just like they did during the Immigration War.”

“I had no idea.” His words are measured and even, as if he’s not sure he believes me or not. I don’t blame him. Anyone who spends years teaching kids who’ve been picked to die must have a healthy set of mental walls.

My chuckle dies shortly after leaving my lips. “Why would you? You weren’t there.”

“Are you going to do anything about it?”

“About what? All we have is a disease that mutates and hits farms randomly across the country. Not exactly sensational news or a huge government cover-up, here.”

“I don’t know, but it seems you should do something.” He sounds frustrated, his voice gravelly. “Report it, perhaps?”

“To whom? Let’s just entertain your government conspiracy theory for a moment. Who would I report it to? The media? They’re controlled by the government. The most I can do is give the girl the vaccinations.”

Silence reigns on the other end of the line, so I take the opportunity to save the manuscript file. “Look Edward, I know you’re frustrated. Believe me, I’d tell you more if I could, but I can’t. I don’t have any proof, so I’d appreciate you not mentioning it to anyone else, if you don’t mind.”

Edward chuckles. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Socrates. And thank you for the vaccines. I know your girl will appreciate it.”

I smile and pull open the top drawer on my desk, withdrawing a worn, red pen with most of the silver rim and cap rubbed down to the plastic. Holding its cool plastic shell, I push the button on the top a couple times. Still works. Well, if they still made ink for it, it would. “How is everything else at the farm?”

“Quiet. Not at all like Washington. Even all the way out here, I heard about the incident at the Smith. Are you all right?”

I stand up, knees creaking under my weight. “Of course. You honestly think Eliot would let anything happen to me?”

Edward chuckles. “She’s better protection than the military.”

“You’ve got that right. If I even sneeze wrong she tries to bundle me into bed. Speaking of which, it is getting late, and she’ll have my head if I stay up too much longer, and I know Maggie will tell on me the first chance she gets.”

Edward chuckles. “Anything else?”

“Just more rebel activity. They sure have been making their presence known. Shut down a shipping yard east of Boston. Blew up the transport pods, but no one was killed, so that’s a plus.”

He pauses for a second too long. “Do you think there is anything I should be worried about? You only picked the girl yesterday, so they’ve hardly had time to mobilize.”

“You never know. We’ve all seen the propaganda. They could be anywhere, anyone, remember? Just to be safe, let’s put a few guards in the forest surrounding the farm.”

“Do you think they’ll try something?”

I pick up the pen and put it back in the drawer, just to be safe. It is, after all, the only real pen I have left. “Don’t underestimate people with nothing left to lose. They’re the most dangerous of all.”

After Edward hangs up, the pain in my head and my bones returns with a vengeance. With thick, twisted fingers, I fumble for the bottle of pain pills and twist open the cap. Another old-fashioned relic. Maybe I should get those painkiller implants Eliot mentioned. The top of the bottle skitters across the top of my desk, and I shake out a few pills. How many? Two? Three? Doesn’t matter. All that matters is relief.

“I thought you loved me.”

Mira

R
ough wood scratches my arms
as I lean over the stall railing next to the old metal shipping crate. The terrified fox inside bares its teeth and hisses. Realizing I’m not going anywhere, it flattens itself, shrinking into the afternoon shadows. Except for its blinking, black beady eyes, I can’t even see it.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m not going to hurt you.” It growls again, a low noise rising up in the barn’s stillness.
It’s a wild animal, you idiot, of course it can’t understand you.

I kneel down in the dusty, unused stall next to the cage, letting the dim sunlight from the open barn door bathe the cage. In the faded space between light and dark, the poor creature’s sides heave with terror. Its ribs stick out against a tattered, patchy hide. It looks awful, not at all like the softly furred plump foxes the Chesanings usually hunt.

Slowly, I pull a small paper-wrapped package from my pocket and open it. Then, even more carefully, I take out a piece of brownish-gray composite meat I saved from my breakfast and drop little bits of it through the bars. It tastes only marginally better than the toast. Hopefully the fox won’t care. After a few seconds, its shiny coal-black nose twitches. “Yeah, I know, it doesn’t smell the greatest either, but it’s the best I can do.” I back away from the stall.

Behind me, there’s a crackling, shuffling noise, the kind that only comes when someone walks on fresh straw. I jump and spin around. Nothing. As my heart beats faster than the fox’s, a familiar shape steps out of the shadows by the back door to the barn. “Tanner, what are you doing here?” I gasp, my breath coming out in a short burst.
What’s wrong with me? It’s only Tanner. I’ve known him my whole life.
I grin nervously, trying to get rid of my panic.
What’s he doing here? Is he looking for me? He should be out in the fields, working.
I rub my palms on my pants and try to straighten my uniform, smearing dirt and dust from the barn in long streaks.

Sunlight glances off his face and gives him a golden red halo. He’s dressed in the dark brown coverall all the field workers wear and holds a worn, green horse lead in one hand. His eyes, normally sparkling with light and easy laughter, are cold and stony, like a stranger’s. “Spartacus stepped in a gopher hole, sprained his ankle. I’m bringing Tomas out to take his place. What are
you
doing out here? Shouldn’t you be in the Manor, working with that teacher they sent from Washington? It’s dangerous for you to be out here alone.” He holds himself stiffly, watching my reaction. As if he doesn’t know me anymore.

“Nothing,” I say, but then I glance back at the stall. Tanner’s eyes follow my gaze. When I look back at him, I feel myself standing up straighter, taller. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I’m not doing anything wrong… well, okay, I probably am, but this is such a minor thing, it’s almost non-existent. “It’s not like I’m out in the woods, Tanner, this is the barn. I’m perfectly safe out here.”

He shakes his head. “Not all danger walks on four legs, Mir.”

“Present company included?” I quip.

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. He strolls over to me, only to stop a couple feet away, as if there’s some invisible wall standing tall and firm between us.

Tears burn the back of my eyes. “Tanner,” I whisper. The name I’ve said a thousand times before sounds almost foreign on my lips, as if it belongs to a stranger.

Even dusty from half a day in the fields with dirt streaking his temple and sweat staining his collar, Tanner is still the most handsome guy at the farm.
Oh Tanner, I’m never going to see you again. I’m so sorry.
My breath catches in my throat, and a feeling strangely like the beginning of a sob catches up to me.
No, I can’t.
Lip quivering, I blink away more tears.
Relax Mira. Look at Tanner, does he look upset?
That’s the part that shakes me the most. He’s just standing there, like one of the bleached white columns on the Manor house, like it doesn’t matter. The only way I can tell he’s even bothered the least is that his hands clench into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

Leaning back against the stall door, I try to act relaxed. “Nothing, I was just feeding the fox. I thought it might be getting hungry.”

“It doesn’t matter, you know that, right? Those hunts are brutal. It’s not like it’s going to get out of this alive.” The way he says it is mocking, as if there’s more to it than just a fox, and he jams his fists, including the one holding the horse lead, into his deep pockets.

“It’s not right.”

“No, it’s not. Capturing something so beautiful just to kill it.” He looks at me this time, and I get this strange feeling he’s not talking about the fox anymore.

Before I can ask him about that,
understanding dawns in me. “Is that why it looks so terrible? It’s wild-caught?” I glance back at the cage, but all I can see are two glinting, beady eyes.

“Yep. I heard Chesaning telling one of the guys how someone from Laurel trapped it. The boss paid about half as much as they would for a captive bred one, on account of it being so rough-looking. I guess they’re just going to let the dogs have it after they kill it. It’s not like the pelt’s worth anything.”

“But… but that’s against the law.”

Tanner raises an eyebrow, a sardonic grin curving his lips. “Really, Mir? This is nothing compared to what they’re doing to you, and here you are, worried about a stupid fox?”

I turn away so Tanner won’t see the way my cheeks turn red with shame. “It’s not just a fox, Tan. It’s a living, breathing creature. It’s not right, and you know it.” Already, I can hear my gears turning. The urge to help this creature is so strong I yearn to ask Tan for help. At one point in time, not that long ago, he would have been right by my side. Now, I’m not so sure.

“So I guess that makes you just a girl, then, right?” His breath whispers the words against the back of my neck a second before his fingers trace my arm. Gently, almost as if I’m the wild animal, he takes my shoulder and turns me around, taking me in his arms. “I’m sorry, Mir, really. I don’t have any right to snap at you. None of this is your fault.”

I look up at him just as his lips gently touch mine. “Tanner,” I whisper, and freeze—the same kind of motionlessness that overcomes a deer when I startle one at the edge of the fields or in the playground. I press my body against his, anxious to feel something, anything but this fear I’ve felt since being chosen. But there’s nothing except the warmth of his lips on mine and a sudden chill when he steps away.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” he murmurs, his lips a breath apart from mine.

I pull away and look down at the dirt smearing my clothes from the barn. “It’s just dirt. It’ll wash off.”

Tanner sighs and looks away, past me, maybe at something he sees, maybe at something in his head. But by the time his eyes meet mine again, I know he’s not talking about the dirt on my clothes. He’s talking about something else, something bigger. A cool breeze picks up, and one of the horses in the barn rustles in his stall. I shiver. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s not safe even here in the barn, in the middle of the farm. But if I’m not safe here, where else could I possibly be safe?

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” I bite my bottom lip, and Tanner watches me carefully before shaking his head as my words sink in.

“That’s right, you’re better than us now. You’re Absolved.” The anger rages in his voice even though he outwardly doesn’t show it except for jerking back a step, as if eager to get some space between us.

“What? No!”
How could things go so wrong so quickly?
“Tanner, that’s not it at all!” I reach for him. He looks at my hand, but refuses to take it. I drop it, crushed, and scrub at my eyes with the back of my hand.

“What else could it be? I came by your house yesterday. You were there, Max told me, but you didn’t want to see me. Why?”

“I… I…”
How do you tell the person you’re supposed to love that you’re leaving them forever? “
I… I couldn’t.”

“This is me, Mira. Tanner. Remember? We’ve been together forever. I thought you loved me.” He shakes his head, and I can see his pain in the sharp movements, the angry squint of his eyes, his mouth, the muscle twitching in his cheek. A body whose signals are almost as familiar to me as my own.

That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I rush forward and grab his hands. “I’m sorry, Tanner. I… I just couldn’t see anyone. It wasn’t you, honest.”

“But it
is
me.” His voice is low, agonized, and the pain in his eyes make mine close. After his words sink in, he sighs. “Were you even there?”

I bite my lip and look away. “No, I snuck out.”

Understanding dawns on his face, relaxes the crease between his eyes. “Rosie?”

I nod.

“I’m sorry, Mira. I had no idea.” Sympathy colors his voice.

“It’s okay, I just… I had to be alone for a while.” Not sure what to say next, I spread my hands on Tanner’s chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in his coverall. The urge to hold him, to wipe that painful grimace off of his face, has me moving onto my tiptoes, ready to touch my lips with his.

Tanner shakes his head and steps back, gently setting me away from him. “I’m sorry, Mira. I shouldn’t have been so upset. But after the mail came yesterday, I didn’t know what to think.”

“I know. I know. I should have told you myself but—” I pause as the rest of his words sink in. “Wait. What do you mean about after the mail came?” What could have possibly made him mad in the mail?

“Don’t act like you don’t know. You got the same letter I did.”

“I didn’t get anything. My mom would have told me. Yesterday…”
Oh yeah, yesterday.

I feel the blood drain from my face as Tanner pulls an official, white envelope, well-creased and stained around the edges from his pocket. He stares at it for a few seconds before shaking his head, tossing the envelope on the ground between us, and turning away, stalking toward Tomas’s stall. The large bay draft gelding leans his head out, nickering softly.

No. It can’t be. After all this time. Oh God, Tanner, what have I done?
Taking my eyes from his retreating form, I pick up the envelope and open it, sliding out a single piece of paper. Across the top of the page, fancy lettering reads “Official Marriage Authorization.”

“Tanner, wait!” Fingers numb, I drop the paper and run toward him. “I didn’t know. Honest.” He stops, but doesn’t turn around. I dodge in front of him. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

I grab his hands. “I swear I didn’t get anything like this,” I plead, my voice rising to a whine.

“Come on, Mira. Everyone knows how Authorizations work. We both get letters on the same day. It’s always been done like that.” He shakes his head, steps around me, and walks over to Tomas’s stall, leaving me behind. Undoing the latch on the door, he clips the lead to the big bay’s halter and leads him out. He stops in front of me, his face solid and sure, a faint twinge of sarcasm in his voice. “But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? You’re Absolved. You don’t need people like me holding you back.” He passes me, leads Tomas to a post near the tack room, and ties him to a ring in the wall. He grabs a fresh harness and sets it on the horse’s back.

A sob catches in my throat, and I jam my fist into my mouth and bite down. An eerie cry echoes throughout the almost empty barn. I jump and spin around.

“Relax, it’s just the fox,” Tanner calls. “Poor thing probably knows it’s reached the end of the line.”

“I still think that’s terrible.” I turn to the stall as the animal’s cry rises to an almost impossible pitch.

“Yeah, well, it’s not as if they bought it as a pet. Besides, they’ve done this dozens of times. It didn’t seem to bother you much then.”

“Yes, but… this is wrong. It’s different this time.”

“How?” He seems to have forgotten his earlier anger. “They’ve all died. What’s different now?”

A shiver races up my spine. I know he’s talking about the fox, but there’s something that tells me it’s more than that. “This fox knew freedom, and now she’s a prisoner.”

“Like you?” He unclips Tomas’s lead rope and walks back in my direction, toward the door. I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath.

The electronic bell at the manor house rings three times, a deep tone you can hear even from the edge of the fields closest to the house.

“That isn’t true. I’m not a prisoner,” I cry, but he ignores me.

Tanner’s
words follow me as
I take the long way to the manor, trying to compose myself.
What is he talking about? This isn’t a battle, and I’m no prize to be won or lost. What exactly is he fighting for?
Gerald ushers me in and leads me to the tearoom. Lush carpeting muffles our footsteps.

Mr. Flannigan huffs to his feet as I enter the room. “Good morning, Mira. How are you today?” He sits back down, face slightly red.

I plaster a fake smile on my face, trying not to think about Tanner.
I’m not a prisoner, really. I could have said no, right?
“Just great. How about you?”

“Can’t complain, my girl. I spoke with Socrates last night.”

That wakes me up. I try to mimic his calm and cock an eyebrow at his mysterious response. “Oh? How is he? He didn’t look so good when he was here.”

“Well, he is almost ninety, so that’s to be expected. He was interested in learning how our first day together went.” Mr. Flannigan straightens his shoulders and sits back. The wicker creaks and bends under his weight.

“What did he say about the vaccines?” When he nods at the other chair, I gingerly take the seat and turn so I can see his eyes.

Mr. Flannigan hesitates, words perched on the tip of his tongue. “He said it might take some doing to get that amount of medicine here, but he doesn’t think there’ll be too much of a problem.”

“Much of a problem? Does he really think of this as a
problem
?” I tilt my head, the anger in my voice clear even to me.

Mr. Flannigan raises his eyebrows as if I’m the crazy one. “Well, it is a highly unusual request. Most Seconds don’t ask for anything. It is a privilege to be chosen, after all.”

“Yeah, you said that before. Still don’t see it as much of a
privilege
to me.” The anger comes to the surface, and I can’t hold it in. “I don’t think you get it, Mr. Flannigan. Yes, there’s a disease. Yes, kids die. But they don’t even let us bury them. They don’t even let us say good-bye.”

He frowns. “I didn’t know that.”

“When we die, these people called cleaners come. They wrap us up in white plastic sheets, and take us away to who-knows-where.” I look out the big window and can almost see the shiny silver hovercrafts landing gently, doors sliding open, ladders descending, and spilling green-clothed doctors. Fully masked from their heads to the soles of their feet, they follow Mr. Chesaning to whatever house has had a loss and depart with a white wrapped bundle. Oftentimes, it’s a small bundle that’s handled more like a package than a human being. My fists tighten at my sides.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Flannigan says, and I spin around, jarred from my thoughts. I almost believe him, but he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t realize what it’s like to live the way we do, completely governed by other people. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to discuss this further, but I will certainly relay your concerns to Socrates.”

“Don’t bother,” I snarl, disgust dripping from my words. “If getting one farm’s fill of cures is
that
difficult, then vaccinating the whole world would be impossible.”

“As. I. Said.” He narrows his eyes. “We don’t have much time left at the farm, so today we’re going to discuss the necessary table manners you will need for the Acceptance banquet.”