Aura aura jax 1, p.8
Aura (Aura Jax #1), page 8
I couldn’t see just how big the camp was last night, but in the daylight, the tents seem to stretch on for miles.
“The medical tent is the big white one over there, and the one next to it is the food store,” Reece says, gesturing to two large tents up ahead. “After a warehouse raid or a successful hunt, the supplies go straight to the food store to be sorted by Elsa. She rations everything out and makes sure we have enough to last the month. She's had a pretty tough job lately.”
Medical tent. Food store. Elsa.
I trail slightly behind Reece, making mental notes and taking in the scenery, listening to the birds, enjoying the morning sun on my face. It’s odd not having to wait for a work alert, not having to watch my back.
I’ve never experienced anything like it.
I feel free.
“This is the bathroom,” Reece calls back to me after a while, disappearing down a grass bank.
I follow him toward the sound of running water, coming to a stop at the edge of a river. I dip my hands into the cold water and splash it onto my face.
“I need to get back here with soap and fresh clothes,” I mutter.
Reece laughs. “I didn't want to say anything, but that’s a really good idea.” He has a mischievous glint in his eye.
I glare at him. “Thanks a bunch!” I pretend to be offended and shove him into the water, soaking myself in the process.
It almost feels like old times.
“I’ve missed you,” he says.
“Come on, don’t get mushy on me.” I pick up a stone and throw it into the water.
Outside of my family, Reece knows more about me than anyone on this earth. We used to tell each other everything. He knows that I'm Elite, and that I’m masquerading as a Worker, but he thinks we were hiding my status because my family, like his, was opposed to the government and getting ready to defect.
But for all we shared, he doesn't know that I can hear thoughts or that the wiring in my “Elite” brain is… unusual.
I want to confide in him about what happened with the Cog at the border, but where would I even start?
Now isn't the time, anyway. He doesn't need burdening with my issues on top of everything that's going on in the camp.
I’ll tell him one day. Maybe.
A heron lands on the other side of the river and stands stock-still, watching for fish in the water flowing by.
“Do you think there are other camps like this one?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He leans back against the riverbank and closes his eyes. “When we first arrived, we sent scouts out to look for other settlements, but none of them came back.”
He is quiet. I wonder if he knew the scouts who didn’t return.
“How often do new people come here?” I ask, thinking of Caleb and his van.
“You and Selena are the first in a couple of months.”
“Reece!” a male voice shouts, and the startled heron flaps away. I hear someone running toward us on the riverbank above.
“That’s Clark,” Reece says, getting up. “We’re down here!” he shouts back.
A red-faced Clark appears at the top of the bank. “You’d better come. Brown’s in a rage,” he says. “They’re calling a meeting now.”
Chapter 12
There are hundreds of people at the campfire when we get back. I leave Reece and join Selena, who is standing at the back of the crowd with Mags. Tomas seems to be holding court at the front.
“What have I missed?” I whisper to Selena. She looks well. She's been washed and changed, and she has some color in her cheeks for once.
“Just a bit of ranting and raving."
“You were up and out early,” I comment.
“I slept well. I didn’t cough all night.”
I hadn’t noticed, but she’s right. I can’t remember the last time I slept a night without her coughing in my ear.
“Just let me know before you run off next time, okay?”
Somebody shushes us.
“If we try to access that bunker, we'll be putting this camp in danger,” Tomas is saying. “We have young children here; we have a pregnant woman,” he searches out Brown's partner in the crowd. “We have no idea who is down there, how many of them are down there, or how much firepower they have -”
“We’re already in danger of starving!” someone shouts.
James joins Tomas at the front. “Let’s keep this a calm, sensible discussion,” he says. In spite of his words last night, he’s playing the voice of reason.
I watch him, wary. I might not be able to hear his thoughts, but there’s something about him I don’t trust.
“Tomas is right to be cautious," he says. "But we do have a choice: We can do what we’ve been doing and hope that our luck changes, or we can take a shot that the people in the bunker have a more reliable supply source and risk investigating. Either way, I think we’re big enough to handle trouble if it comes.”
He lets his words sink in.
“There’s nothing to say that our luck won’t change." He looks around the crowd. “But there’s nothing to say that it will.” He looks at Tomas, as if he's daring him to disagree.
“There are hundreds of people here and we're running out of food. What happens when we're too weak to go out on another raid?” Brown says. “What happens when the baby is born, and Imogen can't provide breast milk because she's malnourished? And we don't know who else might join us on this side of the border. Two more people arrived just yesterday!”
Selena and I look at each other as others in the crowd turn our way. I want the ground to swallow us up.
“Brown is right,” James says, “and while we don’t want to turn away people in need, that is what we’ll have to do unless we change our situation.” He looks sideways at Tomas. The older man lets out a frustrated laugh and shakes his head, conceding.
“Well, it seems we’re all in agreement,” James says, assuming control of the crowd now. “What we need to decide, then, is how we go about it.”
Before I can talk myself out of the idea, I put my hand in the air. Selena raises an eyebrow.
“Aura?” James acknowledges me, surprised.
Everybody turns to look at me.
“I might have an idea.”
Chapter 13
The forest is dark, and a light rain is falling when I set off for the bunker with Reece and Helen, Tomas, Brown, and James.
We walk briskly and quietly, the only sounds around us coming from the patter of the rain and the occasional hoot of an owl.
We’re miles out from camp and even farther from the border now, in the thick of a forest I barely knew existed outside The Society.
Reece and Helen are up ahead, slashing at branches and vines with crude brush hooks, following Helen's original trail from the day she found the bunker: small pieces of string tied around the trees to mark her path in case she needed to find it again.
“So you know Reece well?” James falls into step beside me.
I shrug. “We’ve been friends since we were four years old,” I tell him. “We were neighbors in the Old City. My parents moved us around a lot, but Reece and I always found each other.”
“Did things change when he found out you were Elite?”
I look around sharply and James gives me a slow smile. “The barcode doesn’t fool me. I can see it in the way you carry yourself.”
“You’re crazy.”
“And you’re Elite,” he says, "but don’t mind me. Workers, Elite, we’re all just human, right?”
The last thing I want is to get into a discussion with him about my complicated life story. “If I was Elite, do you really think I'd be tramping around in the forest on this side of the border, looking for supplies for defectors in an illegal camp?” I say, attempting to laugh off his assertion.
Before he can respond, Helen calls back to us, “We’re here.”
In the half-light, I can see that the trees thin out up ahead, leading into a small clearing. We crouch down in the undergrowth as we move nearer.
James looks at me. “Let’s just see what you’re made of, Aura.”
I pause. The way he says it makes me uneasy.
“We’ve got your back,” Reece says, mistaking my hesitation for fear.
My rucksack snags on tree branches as I push my way through to the clearing.
I'm going to act as a decoy – an injured wanderer lost in the forest. We hope that if the girl Helen saw finds me here, we can overpower her and take her hostage so we'll have bargaining power with any other occupants of the bunker.
I walk into the clearing and crouch down on the forest floor, the wet grass soaking my jeans.
Five pairs of eyes watch me from the trees.
I don’t have long to wait.
I hear the sound of a lock turning, foreign in the middle of the forest, and I shift my position to get a better look. Moments later, a girl appears out of the undergrowth.
She's dressed all in black; her ebony hair tied in a ponytail. In spite of the rifle slung over her back, she looks relaxed, unguarded. She doesn't notice me.
“Hey, can you help?” I call out. She freezes, suddenly alert, looking around for the source of my call.
“Thank God!” I say, pretending relief. “I didn’t know there was anyone else out here!”
She takes the rifle off her back, eyes darting left and right, and slowly walks over to me.
She stops about a foot away and studies me as if I’m a rare artifact. The expression on her face moves from indifference to confusion and then, weirdly, to something like realization.
“Hi, I fell and –”
I didn’t see you coming.
Her words surge into my head with such force that it makes my eyes water.
“How did you do that?” I say under my breath.
I’m stunned. I have heard others’ thoughts all my life, but I’ve never met anyone who could speak directly to me with their thoughts.
She takes another step toward me. Heat and energy emanate from her in waves.
What happened? She’s concerned.
Shaking myself out of my awe-struck haze, I remember the task at hand.
I’m blowing it.
“I fell,” I tell her. “I think I twisted my ankle.”
She considers this for a second, then puts down the rifle next to me and holds out a gloved hand to help me up.
This is exactly what we hoped she would do.
I let her take all of my weight, and as she pulls me up, Helen and Brown enter the clearing.
“Hands up,” Helen says. “If you go for the gun, I’ll put an arrow in your neck.” Her bow is raised, an arrow ready to fly.
The girl looks at me. She drops my hands and gives me a rueful smile as I balance easily on my own.
You tricked me. That won’t happen again.
She turns to face Helen and Brown. “Who are you people?” she asks.
Brown marches toward her, blade in hand.
The girl waits until he’s an arm’s length away before pushing him in the chest with surprising strength, sending him flying across the clearing. He collides with a tree and thuds to a stop, his blade landing inches from his leg. His head falls forward, a strange choking sound coming from his throat.
Helen frowns, her bow and arrow wavering.
We’ve seriously underestimated this girl.
I reach out to grab the rifle on the ground beside me, but the girl is lightning fast. One second, I’m behind her, reaching for the gun, and the next, it’s in her hands and aimed at me.
Move.
Her voice is in my head again. She presses the butt of the gun into my back, directing me forward.
I do as she tells me, even though no one else can hear her.
Helen lowers her weapon.
“The rest of you can show yourselves,” the girl says, scanning the trees. “Watch out for the traps.”
James, Reece, and Tomas step into view, shock and frustration etched on their faces, hands up in surrender.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Tomas says, looking at Brown, still gurgling against the tree at the edge of the clearing.
“He’ll be fine,” she says. “What are you doing out here?” She’s completely in control.
James clears his throat. “Our people are starving,” he says. “We need help.”
She laughs. “It doesn’t hurt to be nice when you ask someone for help.”
“What’s your name?” James asks, lowering his arms.
She pauses.
“Neeve,” she finally says.
“Neeve. I’m James. This is Helen, Reece, Tomas, Aura, and Brown.” He nods at each of us as he makes introductions. “We have a camp a few miles’ walk from here. There’s a baby due any day, kids who haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. We’re trying to survive, that’s all,” he says.
Do they know about you?
I flinch as the words seep into my head.
I don't know what you mean.
“I understand surviving,” she says to James. The pressure from the gun leaves my back. “We survive.”
“Who's we?” Helen asks. "How many of you are out here?"
“Let me see,” Neeve says, pretending to count. “Two.”
“Two?” Reece asks.
“I live with my father,” she says.
Reece tries to hide his disappointment. A food store for two people won’t help the hundreds in his camp.
“We can probably spare something for the children and the pregnant woman,” Neeve says. Her eyes settle on Brown. “Aura, you come with me. The rest of you can stay here with your friend. He's going to be pretty confused when he comes around.”
Chapter 14
I follow Neeve through a tunnel of foliage that is invisible from the clearing. I don’t see the wooden frame of the bunker entry until we’re up close.
She kicks away a pile of branches and presses her palm to the ground. I watch in fascination as the grass beneath her hand starts to shift and pixelate, transforming into a steel grate concealed in the earth.
I’ve never seen anything like it. “What is that?”
“CamoFilm,” she says. “Telepathe Tech.”
I frown. Telepathe Tech? I glance behind me, but I can’t see Reece and the others beyond the leaves and branches. I hope I’m not walking into a trap here.
“To keep the place hidden,” Neeve says.
She pulls up the grate and reaches down into the darkness to flip on a light switch. The dull orange bulb reveals a metal staircase leading below the ground.
She closes the grate behind us, and the outside world disappears. The smell of soil and damp wood fills my nostrils as we make our way down.
At the bottom of the steps, Neeve unlocks a metal door, and a pale light spills out.
The room we enter is surprisingly spacious. Solar lamps give the room a milky glow, illuminating four floor-to-ceiling wooden beams in each corner of the room. A colorful threadbare rug lies in the center of the space. I notice another doorway on the wall to my right.
A large paisley-patterned sheet is attached to a curtain rail on the wall opposite me, giving a backdrop to an unmade sofa bed in front of it. To my left is a shelf full of books, a TV on a stand, and a half-open door leading to a kitchen. To the right, a metal dining table is cluttered with the remains of a meal.
There are four metal stools around the table and a small silver clock on a ledge in the corner, counting out the seconds.
“Wow, look at this place,” I say. “How long have you been here?”
“About four years,” Neeve says, putting her rifle down on the table.
She pulls open the sheet along the back wall. My eyes widen at the sight of a larder stacked high with tins and packets of dehydrated food.
This is not just a few supplies to support two people.
“Where did you get all of this stuff?” I ask.
“That's none of your business.”
“I wouldn't ask if we weren't desperate,” I say. “Can we come to some kind of arrangement so the camp can survive?" I have to try, for the sake of the others.
“What do you have to trade for the supplies?”
I hesitate.
I can't think of anything.
“You can take what you can fit in your bag,” she finally says.
She sits down at the table, studying me as I fill my rucksack with packets of dehydrated vegetables and synthetic protein.
“Outside, you asked if they know ‘about me,’” I say.
“And you said you didn't know what I meant.”
I take a breath. “The thing is, I don’t really know about me.”
She sighs and looks at me with something like pity in her eyes. “Well, I’m what some people call Gifted,” she says. “I’m a Prophet…” She pushes a stray hair behind her ear. “And I didn’t see you coming. Which means you’re Gifted too because no Worker or Elite could have got past me."
My stomach flutters. A Prophet?
I’ve heard of Prophets.
Reece used to talk about these ultra-rare people in the same way that people talked about God or angels in the time before religion was banned in The Society.
He was fascinated with the very idea of their existence. I always thought it was a load of mystical rubbish.
“So you can see the future?” I ask, overriding the rational side of me that says to ignore her.
She smiles. “I see what might happen, lots of different variables.”
I swallow. “I’ve always been able to hear people’s thoughts…” I break off and look at her, ready for her to laugh, or to hush me like Mum would have, but she's listening to me as if my experience is the most normal thing in the world. “I had to train myself to block them out, to stop myself from going mad.”
She nods with understanding.
“But something happened to me a couple of nights ago,” I say.
“What happened?” she asks.
It feels good to confide in her.
I can’t believe I’m confiding in anyone.
I close my eyes, remembering the look of shock in the Cog's eyes. The force at which he shot backward — the electric thrill when his heart stopped beating, and we were safe.
