Remake Page 7

  “Help me turn her over.” The voice is low and deep. Male. The way he speaks, his Rs blend with other words or get lost all together: Help me tun hurovah.

  “I’m not touching that thing,” says another male voice, sounding mature but younger than the first. “And how do you know it’s a girl?” Every sentence he speaks rises in pitch at the end.

  I feel hands on my shoulders, pushing me onto my back.

  “I don’t,” says the first male. “You volunteering to investigate, Kai?”

  The younger one—Kai—erupts into coughs. “No. Way. It can be a girl for now.”

  Something pries my fingers from the floating cushion. I hold on tight, refusing to let go. But the something else wins, and my hands are empty. I hear the cushion land beside me.

  “Dad, we should just leave it . . . um . . . her,” Kai says. “She’s one of them.”

  A pair of rough, large hands grip my throat, and I think I am being strangled. Bristol is back, I think in a panic. But in a moment the hands pull away, and I am still here, aware.

  “She’s alive,” Dad, the older voice, says. “Her pulse is weak, though. We need to get her to your mother.”

  I don’t know what a mother is, but I’m not going anywhere. I try to open my eyes, but the light from the sun is still blinding, so I keep them closed.

  “Help me sit her up,” Dad says.

  Kai grunts. “I told you, I’m not touching it. Remember what we saw on the west—”

  “Quit being an idiot, Kai,” Dad says, his voice loud and commanding. “You’re eighteen, not a snot-nosed pip anymore. She’s just a child. And she’s alone. Man up, and take her on that side.”

  I feel two pairs of hands slide under my back, but instead of allowing myself to be lifted, I roll to the side and throw up sea water and anything else still lingering in my stomach.

  “Ah, man, that’s nasty.”

  After making sure nothing else is going to come out, I sit up on my own and try to open my eyes again. Looking down at myself, I see my white tank top and gray sweats—they feel damp. My feet are bare except for one sock hanging halfway off. I touch the seat pad on my left and shudder. I’m sitting on a sandy beach. Not ten feet away is the white of water, leading to an aqua blue sea beyond. The ocean. I scramble backwards, frantic, determined to get as far away from the water as I can.

  “Whoa, whoa. Slow down.” The man named Dad tries to hold onto me, but he doesn’t have to. My legs are so weak from kicking all night, I collapse before I get anywhere.

  I look up, and it’s not so bright anymore because a shadow looms over me. “Are you okay?” the shadow asks in Dad’s voice.

  I open my mouth to speak, but my voice is so raw, nothing comes out.

  “Shh.” Dad wipes my forehead, and I feel sand falling off my skin. “We’re here to help you. Don’t be afraid.” His skin is brown, a dark bronze that would be impossible to attain even if his Trade involved working out in the sun all day. His hair is dark and cropped short. He wears a beard that is trimmed at the sides, leaving a mass of black and gray facial hair on his chin and above his lips. With dark brown eyes and a collection of wrinkles at his eyes and lips, his face is kind. “Do you think you can sit up on your own?”

  I nod, deciding to trust this stranger with dark skin. When I rise this time, a throbbing pain fills my head. I bring my hands to my temples, pressing hard, wanting to drive the ache away.

  “Kai, give him—or her—your water.” Dad holds his hand out to the boy on my other side.

  “This is ridiculous.” With an exaggerated sigh, Kai passes over a plastic bottle. “Just ask it if it’s a boy or girl already.”

  Dad yanks the bottle from his hand and knocks it on the top of Kai’s head with a stern expression. Dad turns to me, and his face softens. “Are you female?”

  For now.

  I give him a quick nod.

  Dad unscrews the lid from the top of the bottle and hands it to me. I take a small sip. And then a big one. When all the water is gone, I give the empty bottle to Dad and finally glance at Kai.

  He seems to be about my age. Eighteen, I guess, like Dad had said. He’s already Remade, though—a mature male—with wide shoulders and strong arms. He doesn’t wear a shirt, and I see a tattoo on his chest and stomach, covering the left half of his torso. He’s tall, like Dad. His skin is a shade lighter, though still bronze. Kai’s hair is short on the sides, and tight, black curls sprawl along the top of his head. He bears a slight resemblance to Dad, though I’m sure it’s just the strangeness of their skin color that makes them similar. His face is wrinkled also, though not from age. It’s scrunched with angry brows and pursed lips. His light brown eyes are cold, not warm and comforting like Dad’s. I decide not to trust those cold eyes.

  “Do you think you can stand?” Dad asks.

  I turn to him and place my hand in his offered one. I rise successfully but fall into him, my legs unable to hold my entire weight.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “Kai, hold her a sec.” Though it sounds more like ’older a seek.

  My head hurts from straining to understand their heavily accented words.

  Kai grips my elbow with such force I know I will bruise. I don’t want him to touch me and try to shake him off, but he stands firm, looking off into the ocean.

  Dad stuffs the water bottle into a bag I hadn’t noticed before. “We’ll carry you, all right?”

  I look at Kai. I don’t want him to carry me.

  He harrumphs.

  Dad rolls his eyes and tosses him the bag, then slips his arms under my knees and back, pulling me to his chest. “I’ve gotcha.”

  We start to head inland, away from the beach, and thankfully, away from the water. But I remember the floating cushion and begin to squirm in his arms.

  “What is it?” Dad asks.

  I point behind him to the wet and sandy seat pad buried in the sand. “Don’t let go,” I whisper, squeezing my hand into a fist.

  Dad motions to it with a tilt of his head. “Kai.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Kai grudgingly retrieves my lifesaver and falls into step behind us. “What a freak.”

  His words are nothing new.

  * * *

  Dad carries me through a path of dense foliage. Trees and bushes with wide, expansive leaves sprout everywhere, and it’s all green. Green below and green above. I’ve never seen anything like it before in Freedom.

  The green on the ground soon gives way to tiny black pebbles that scatter along a purposeful path. At the end of the path is a small wooden building, just one story tall. It’s propped above the ground with cement blocks at each corner so I can see under it to the other side.

  Kai runs ahead of us, up a short set of stairs and into the building, calling out, “Mom!”

  The door shuts automatically behind him with a squeak and a slam. As we ascend the stairs, I realize I can see right into the building because there’s a mesh screen on the door that provides no protection from the elements outside.

  Kai opens the door for us and cringes as my legs rub against his chest. I resist the urge to kick him in his gut as we pass. Dad carries me to a long set of cushions covered in fabric, like a bed, but made for sitting in comfort instead of lying. He sets me down and calls, “Miriama?”

  “I’m coming.” A woman’s voice echoes from another room. “What’s the big surprise, eh?” A beautiful woman with long, dark brown hair pulled into a loose braid and fair, clear skin stops a few feet in front of me. She looks nothing like Dad, but strangely, has the same light brown eyes and pouting lips as Kai.

  “We found her on the beach, Miri.” Dad puts his hand on Miri’s back. “Washed up on shore.” They give each other a knowing look, and I wonder if they can communicate through their thoughts, the way their eyes seem to speak their own language.

  It reminds me of the way Theron and I can tell what the other means without saying anything. Could tell, I mean. Before.

  “The girl’s gone and lost
her voice,” Dad continues. “She’s had a rough night, I think. But she’ll be fine.”

  Miri nods and kneels beside me. “Put some tea on, Kai.” Her accent is not as thick as the two males, which is a relief.

  “Yes, Mom.” Kai walks away with a sigh.

  I wonder if “Mom” is a nickname for “Miriama.”

  Miri brushes her hand against my scalp. It’s soothing and I close my eyes, too tired to think about where I am or who these people are. I just want to sleep.

  “What’s your name?” Miri asks.

  I open my eyes. “Nine,” I try to say. No sound comes out, but a series of coughs erupts from the effort of speech.

  “Warning,” Kai says from across the room. “I’d get out of the spill zone if I were you.”

  Miri and Dad ignore him. “Don’t waste your voice,” Dad says, kneeling by Miri.

  “If I ask you a question,” Miri asks, “can you shake your head for no and nod for yes?”

  I nod, and Miri smiles. I wait a few moments while she looks me over. Her eyes glance over my bald head and the spots on my hands. I bury my fingers in a fold of my tank top, suddenly insecure about my freckles. I wish I had something more to cover up with.

  “I know this will seem odd,” she says, “but can you open your mouth for me?”

  I hesitate, glancing at Dad, who gives me an encouraging nod. I open wide while Miri looks at all of my teeth. When I close my mouth, she shakes her head at Dad.

  “Are you a Batcher?” she asks me.

  I nod.

  “Are you from Freedom?”

  I nod again.

  “Freedom One?”

  Yes.

  “Are you alone?”

  Every muscle in my body stiffens, from my clenching jaw to my curling toes. I don’t know how to answer that one. Yes, I’m alone. More alone than I’ve ever been in my life. Everyone I’ve ever known is dead. Theron is gone. I shake my hands out and try to relax.

  “She’s not alone,” Kai says, walking toward us. “She brought a lovely blue cushion along for her trip.” He holds out a ceramic cup to Miri and looks at me, then quickly to the floor, as though embarrassed to have seen me so upset.

  Miri yanks the cup away from him. “Stop being such a jerk, Kai, and get your sister. She’s in the garden.”

  I don’t know what Kai’s sister is supposed to be, but I decide I really, really like this Miri person.

  Kai opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it again and storms out through the mesh door.

  “What’s he talking about, Arapeta?” Miri asks.

  Dad walks to the front door and brings back my floating pad. Is Dad called Arapeta too? I don’t know how “Dad” could be considered a nickname for “Arapeta.” These people are strange with their many names and similar appearance. And the way Kai obeys this Miriama and Arapeta so quickly—it’s like he’s still a child being cared for by Fosterers, not a Remade adult.

  Miri examines the cushion carefully before I pull it out of her hands and lay it down next to me. “I think it’s from an airplane,” she whispers.

  She helps me sit up and gives me the cup of tea, telling me to drink. “Did your plane—no—shuttle crash into the ocean?”

  I don’t have to nod. She knows the answer from my trembling hands.

  “And everyone else—”

  I shake my head and close my eyes. I want it to be black again. I don’t want to remember.

  I feel Miri sink into the seat next to me and wrap her arm around me. “Shh. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  I hear Arapeta’s voice. “If those fools spent more time improving old technology and less time searching for it, this probably wouldn’t have happened. All they care about are their awful surgeries and making sure we don’t—”

  “Not helping, Ara,” Miri says. She presses her lips to my ear and whispers, “You’re seventeen, aren’t you? On your way to the Remake facility?”

  I nod, overwhelmed with relief. These strange people in this foreign place don’t seem so different anymore. If they know about shuttles, Batchers, and being Remade, surely they know how to get me back home. Back to Freedom. I square my shoulders, ready to be brave and do what I need to do to get home. I take another sip of my tea, look at Miri next to me, and spew the liquid across the room.

  “What’s wrong?” Miri asks. “Is it too hot?”

  I shake my head and point to her stomach, noticing for the first time that it sticks out unnaturally far, like a giant sphere is hidden beneath her clothes.

  “I’m not that hideous, am I?” Miri smiles and pats her enormous belly.

  “No,” says Ara. “You are perfect in every way.” He bends down to kiss her stomach. “Be careful what you say to a pregnant woman,” he tells me with a grin. “Especially one about to make baby number four.” Ara pulls Miri’s face to his and presses his nose against hers, inhaling so deeply I think he could swallow her whole. The sight is so foreign and so intimate I blush and have to look away.

  I place my cup on the floor and rub my temples again. Pregnant. Baby. All these new words are making my headache worse. And these people talk as though they are Makers, ready to give someone a Maker number. Nothing makes sense, and the pull of sleep is too strong for me to resist.

  I lie back down and curl into a ball, managing to fall asleep while Ara and Miri argue over what to do with the washed-up Batcher from Freedom.

  The sound of voices wakes me. My heart sinks as I realize I’m still lying on the fabric cushions with a blanket draped over me. I can feel Theron’s absence deep in my stomach, like I haven’t eaten in days, and if I do nothing but eat for the rest of my life, I know I’ll never feel full again.

  “They’ll find us in a matter of days,” Kai says from somewhere in a room I can’t see.

  “No one is coming.” It’s Miri’s voice. “I’ve already checked her. She’s clean.”

  “They’ll figure out she’s missing and send out a search,” Kai says.

  “They don’t have those kinds of resources,” Ara says.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Dad’s right,” says a new voice. A female one. “They’ll probably assume she went down with the plane along with everyone else.”

  “I’ve seen what those people are capable of. You haven’t.” Kai’s voice is beginning to grate on me. “Maybe she’s a spy, and she’s just posing as a weak, lost victim.”

  “Yeah, and she’s got a locating device hidden in that blue cushion of hers,” the new female says. “Don’t be such an idiot, Kai.”

  “The poor girl is lost and alone and doesn’t need you to make her feel worse.” Ara sounds tired. I wonder if it’s later in the day or if I’ve slept through the night. I can’t tell by the low light outside.

  “I still don’t think she should stay here. It’s not right.”

  “Well, we can’t exactly take her back now, can we, Kai?” Miri says.

  “I know. But I wish you’d all stop ganging up on me. I’m not an idiot. I mean, look at her. She doesn’t have any hair. Her body is . . . She’s an overgrown child with a weird bald head. A suppression-junkie has no place here.”

  I really want Kai to stop talking already. “Hello?” I say, sitting up from my makeshift bed.

  “And she speaks!” Ara rushes to my side. “That’s Miri’s magic tea for ya.”

  Miri comes to stand next to him, with Kai and another girl close behind. I rub my eyes and yawn, trying to wake up.

  “You already know our son, Kai,” Miri says. “This is Kai’s twin sister, Puangi.”

  Son. Twin. Sister. I file the words in the back of my brain to ask about later.

  “Call me Pua,” Puangi says, and I realize I’m never going to remember all these names, nicknames, and foreign words, so I start slow.

  “Pua,” I say, looking at the girl who moves to sit next to me. She’s close in age to Kai and myself. Her hair is dark and falls to just below her shoulders, her skin a light bronze. Li
ke Kai, she’s mature, and also like Kai, she bears a resemblance to Miri and Ara.

  So. Weird.

  “I think everyone’s dying to know your name, though,” Pua says with her forehead scrunched. She watches my lips, waiting for me to speak.

  “Nine,” I say. “My name is Nine.”

  Kai scoffs. “Of course it is.”

  “Kai!” Miri and Ara say at the same time.

  Kai shrugs his shoulders. “What? It’s not even a real name—it’s a number.”

  Miri glances at Ara with one of her communicate-without-talking looks. He nods and pushes Kai toward the door. “Kai and I are gonna check the nets,” he says, “and let you ladies have some peace.”

  “And so it begins,” Kai mumbles on their way out.

  “I apologize for him,” Pua says, a little too loudly. “He can be a little . . . neurotic sometimes.”

  “A neurotic pain in my rear,” Miri agrees.

  I can’t help but smile, but it feels foreign on my face, and I soon drop it.

  “You’ve slept the day and night away, Nine,” Miri says. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  If better means not as wasted physically as I had been the day before, then yes, I suppose I’m better. The improvement seems insignificant, though, considering I’ll never fully recover from losing Theron.

  Miri rubs her hand absentmindedly over her giant belly. “We sent Hemi to stay with his cousins for a bit while we . . . sort things out.”

  Pua leans over and explains, “Hemi’s my little brother.”

  Cousins. Brother. Yeah, that doesn’t explain anything. I exhale slowly. How many people do they have living in this cracked place?

  Miri pats my knee. “We weren’t sure if you’d have your voice back, so we arranged to have Pua spend the day with you. She’s almost entirely deaf, you see, and can read lips.”

  Pua smiles at me, and I wonder what deaf means. Though I assume “read lips” means she can know what I’m saying by the way my lips move. It doesn’t matter anymore, though, since my voice is back.

  I’m not sure what they expect from me, or why I have to spend the day with Pua. “When can I return to Freedom?” I ask.

  Miri inhales sharply and frowns. “We’ve been thinking about that, Nine.” She grabs my hand and holds it in her own. “The thing is, we don’t have any way of getting you there. No shuttle or boat. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to stay with us for a while.”