The unadjusteds trilogy.., p.1
The Unadjusteds Trilogy: Boxset, page 1
The Unadjusteds
Marisa Noelle
Contents
REVIEWS FOR THE UNADJUSTEDS
Also by Marisa Noelle
The Unadjusteds
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THRITY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The Rise of the Altereds
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Reckoning
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Thank You!
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 by Marisa Noelle
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: marisanoelle77@gmail.com
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FIRST EDITION
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www.marisanoelle.com
REVIEWS FOR THE UNADJUSTEDS
“A pacy dystopia that romps along - speculative fiction at its most moreish! I love books exploring questions like this...what does playing god mean? And what's it like when you're the odd one out in the world? Perfect for 12+. Loved the mental health angle too, sensitively handled.” – Louie Stowell (Author).
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“I loved this book. Great characters and an absolutely brilliant concept! This will appeal to anyone who enjoyed The Hunger Games / Twilight.
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The writing was fantastic and the pace was perfect throughout - I was gripped from the first page. The characters were well drawn and I cannot wait to see what happens to them next! I could easily see this being picked up for a film option.” – Catherine Emmett (Author)
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“As soon as I read the synopsis for this book I was dying to know more. The concept really intrigued me – a world where the majority of the population have altered their DNA? It was such a fascinating idea. When I picked up the book I completely fell in love with this world and these characters, a unique and engaging tale, one that is perfect for fans of Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games and Emily Suvada’s This Mortal Coil.” - The Bibliophile Chronicles (Blogger)
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“Silver’s first-person voice immediately draws the reader in and her appealing personality easily carries us through. It helps that we’re given such an incredible plot hook to pull us into the story. (A visceral description as Silver stands in a school corridor and watches a boy die from taking a nanite pill). This sets the tone for the rest of the book which maintains the pace of a thriller without at any time sacrificing the exceptional character development.
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Silver is supported by an eclectic collection of characters, including unadjusteds and altered. It’s testament to the skill of the author, Marisa Noelle, that I was able to so easily assimilate and track such a large cast. I particularly enjoyed the love triangle between Silver, Matt and Joe and appreciated the fact that, unlike so many similar stories, this was firmly resolved by the end of the book.” - Madge Eekal Reviews (Blogger)
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“I blinkin’ loved it!” – Amazon Reader.
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“Though I was a little heartbroken at the end, I just wanted more. Please tell me there's a sequel and I can return to the technicolored and dangerous world of The Unadjusteds.” – Noelle Kelly (Book Reviewer)
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“The characters are excellent and imaginative!” - Good-
Reads reviewer
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“It gave me moments of shock and out-loud gasping.” –
Amazon reviewer
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“The Unadjusteds was a well-written, intense and emotional story that kept my attention from start to finish.”
– Book blogger
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“I devoured this book!” – Amazon reader.
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“It reminded me of YA heavyweights like The Hunger Games and Divergent. It would make a superb film!” – Book reviewer.
Also by Marisa Noelle
THE UNADJUSTEDS TRILOGY
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The Unadjusteds (Book1)
The Rise of the Altereds (Book 2)
The Reckoning (Book 3 )
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The Shadow Keepers
The Mermaid Chronicles - Secrets of the Deep
For Riley, Lucas & Quinn: May you always reach for the stars.
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For Neil: you inspire me every day.
The Unadjusteds
GENETIC MODIFICATION HAS TAKEN OVER THE WORLD.
A new class system now exists, dividing those who have enhancements and those who do not.
Sixteen-year-old Silver Melody, a proud unadjusted, must navigate a world where 80% of the population has modified their DNA. Know as the altered, these people now possess enhancements like wings, tails, and increased strength or intelligence. Silver’s parents created the nanite pill use to deliver these genetic modifications for altruistic reasons, but are now forced to make combinations of terrifying power.
When the president declares all unadjusted must take a nanite, Silver has no choice but to flee the city with her father and some friends to prevent the extinction of the unadjusteds.
With Silver’s mother in prison for treason, Silver’s father is the unadjusted’ only hope for finding a cure. But when her father is captured by the president’s almost immortal army, hope of a cure is lost. Vicious hellhounds are on Silver’s tail, and her only chance to recover her father involved teaming up with a new group of unlikely friends before all humanity is lost.
CHAPTER ONE
“GET IT DOWN! GET IT DOWN!”
The crowd shrieks around me, jostling each other to reach the front.
A girl with swan wings tunnels past me, her feathers brushing my cheek as she takes off toward the school. A boy with scales stumbles and falls onto me. I regain my balance and continue fighting my way to the front of the growing crowd.
“Get it down! Get it down!” The chant grows louder.
A fairy type with wings from a morpho butterfly flutters above the crowd, smiling and clapping in rhythm with the chant. I spot a few unadjusteds among the gathering who hang back at the edges, their fearful expressions far different from the glee of the adjusteds, or as I like to call them, the altereds. They think they’re a class above, some perfect version of a human being. But really, they’re just a bunch of mutated DNA.
I push against the stab of sharp wingtips and pointed elbows, trying to find a gap, trying to catch a breath. Anxiety trembles through my limbs and I hesitate, the crowd pinging me in all directions. An agonized wail from the thickest part of the melee gives me the spur I need. With my head down, I barrel m
“He’s foaming!” someone yells.
The fairy’s hands fly to her mouth and she screams. She kicks at the air, her ponytail bobbing about her shoulders. Two towering bulks in football jerseys laugh at her and slap each other’s backs.
More screams ripple through the gathering. Finally, I break free from the crushing crowd.
My heart drops.
A boy falls to his knees as thick, white foam pours from his mouth. His eyes bulge and his face turns beet red. His hands clutch at his neck as though he can wrestle away the pill’s effects. Just like Diana.
“Someone call an ambulance!” I bark at the immobile group. “Now!” I toss my cell phone to a girl with pixie ears and kneel so my eyes are level with the boy’s. Gripping his shoulders, I force him to look at me.
“You’re not alone,” I say, placing my hands either side of his face. “Please fight. Try. Hold on. The ambulance is coming.” Don’t be another Diana.
I shudder against the memories. The foam and the bulging veins.
It’s happening all over again.
Blood trickles from the boy’s nose, dripping onto his fresh, white T-shirt. He drops sideways, falling from my grip. His head smacks against the cement.
The pixie girl shouts into my cell phone about the blood and the foam and the gurgling and the choking. Just like I did for Diana over two years ago. But I already know it’s too late.
“What did he take?” I ask the now silent kids at the front of the group. “Which nanite pill did he take?”
“Bulk,” the fairy says quietly. She folds her wings into her back as her feet touch the ground, one foot tucked neatly behind the other.
I look toward the dying boy as his body convulses. He took the bulk nanite pill. He wanted to be a football player, big and strong and immortal with rock-hard skin. It’s a level ten nanite. The paperwork involved takes months, not to mention the expense. All for nothing. His body rejected the change. It happens sometimes.
He reaches a hand toward me, and I hold it as he chokes out one final syllable, but I can’t tell what it is through the gurgling blood.
His hand falls limp. His bloody eyes see nothing; not the lone black bird flapping in the bright blue sky nor the crowd of worried students slowly shuffling backwards toward the school.
He’s dead.
Quiet conversations wind through the group, spreading the news, their voices rising with the drama of it all. The school will be wild with the gossip by lunch. Gossip.
I sit back on my heels as numbness sets in. That’s better than the anxiety. Images of Diana’s face as she collapsed on the floor right outside our lockers worm their way into my mind. The disbelief in her pupils, quickly followed by the fear.
It’s the fear I remember most. Not how she choked on her own vomit or popped an artery and bled from her nose, eyes, and ears. The fear. The last thing she said was; “I don’t want to die.” But she did. And there was nothing I could do about it.
I force the thoughts away before the tears come.
Something digs between my shoulder blades. I turn to find the guard who escorts me to school every day. He grunts something indecipherable and gestures toward the school doors. When I don’t move, he nudges my back harder with the rifle.
I glare at the guard. The nanite prerequisite for joining President Bear’s security force has turned his skin partially green and changed the bone structure of his face until he resembles more troll than human. They’re known for their obedience and aggression.
The guard points toward the school doors again, two massive arches of twisted glass and chrome that allow bulks and winged altereds to enter easily. A few yards above the school’s roof are the lowest of the competition hoops. Every year contests between the winged altered take place there. They compare how fast they can go around the aerial track or how small they can make their wings, and the rest of us watch from the bleachers atop the building.
The crowd disperses. Anxiety scratches inside my chest. I measure my breaths to a slow count, easing my growing fear. As kids file in through the archways, the morning sun glints off the glass and an American flag flutters in the breeze. Good old US of A. Good old American Dream. Reach for the stars and all that. Well, they’d been reached for, lassoed, and wrestled back to earth, where they became the opposite of twinkling, optimistic dreams.
In the distance, sirens pierce the air and draw near. The ambulance arrives, more of a truck than a van, to allow the larger altereds to fit inside. Two paramedics scamper to the boy’s side within seconds of parking their vehicle. One of them grimaces as they go about the business of picking up the dead boy and putting him on a gurney. The other shakes his head and makes the sign of the cross. But there is no God here.
The guard points again. This time I follow him as the paramedics cart the dead boy away.
The guard halts at the entrance, and we part ways as I push through the front doors, jostling amongst the wings and tails and the snapping teeth of my altered classmates.
We file into a more orderly line to let the scanners hanging from the ceiling read our retinas. The alarm on the metal detector blares as it does every morning when I walk through it. Even though I’m prepared for the noise, the alarm drills into my head, making my heart skip a beat. A few kids look around, muttering about fire alarms. Then they see me and look away again.
Everyone knows I wear an ankle cuff. Mrs. Montoya, my unassuming Social Studies teacher, nods at me to go through. She pats my hand as I pass and glares at an altered dashing by whose wings dig into my cheek.
I pass the line of lockers favored by the bulks, each one big enough for me to fit inside without touching the walls. Above them is a smaller row which the fairies tend to use. I stick to the bottom row where I can stay out of their way. I open my locker and rest my head against the cool metal of the door. My skin is hot and flushed. A sign the anxiety is still hovering. A medley of opposing emotions circle inside and my brain and I can’t seem to settle on one. It would be so much easier to just not care. Take a pill. Be like everyone else. But I can’t do that. I promised Diana.
I grab my gym bag from my locker and throw a sweat- shirt over my shoulders to ward off the chill of the air conditioning.
