Remake Read online

  “But what about a transmitter?” I ask. “Isn’t there a way to communicate? Let Freedom know where I am?”

  “We don’t have that kind of technology here.”

  “What?”

  She must sense my panic because she turns my face toward her and looks into my eyes with serious intent. “Listen, Nine. This is going to be hard for you. Trust me, I know. And I’m sorry.” She squeezes her eyes shut for a brief second before continuing. “Life is . . . different here. But my family—we’ll take care of you. You can borrow Pua’s clothes; we have plenty of food. We’ll even set you up in your own room.”

  I shake my head. This is impossible. It has to be a joke. “You don’t understand,” I say. “I need to go back. I need to be Remade.”

  Miri squeezes my hand. “There will be ships. Steamships. They come to our island every few months. Our only option is to wait and see if we can get you passage to Freedom—or near it, at least—on one of them. Until then—”

  “Months?” I can’t wait months. No no no. I’m seventeen now. I need to be Remade as soon as possible so I can start my Trade training and move on with my life in Freedom. Not trapped here, in the middle of nowhere. I stand and turn to face them with my hands on my hips, then drop them because it feels too feminine. “But I don’t have any suppression needles. If I can’t get to the Remake facility, then I’m going to . . .” I tug at the tank top snug on my immature body.

  Miri’s eyes go wide as she realizes what I mean. “I’m so sorry, Nine. I don’t know what else we can do.”

  By the time I get home to Freedom in a few—gasp—months, I’ll be a fully developed female. This can’t be happening. As hard as it was for me to make the decision, I do want to become male. I want to be like Theron—more now than ever. Whatever sick joke the universe is playing on me right now, it’s not funny.

  I glance at Miri’s frowning face and consider my options, then realize I don’t have any. But hopefully, under these circumstances, Eri will still let me change. With the shuttle crash and being stranded and all. Surely I’ll still have the opportunity to choose for myself. The Prime Maker owes me that much, I think, for her little experiment. I rub at the freckles along my arm and stand tall. If there’s ever a time to prove myself, a time to be brave, this is it.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll stay here with you until the ships come.” I nod, trying to convince myself with each passing second. I’ve waited my entire life to be Remade, I can wait a few more months.

  “Good for you,” says Miri. “It’ll be nice to have another daughter in the house—level the odds a bit.”

  Daughter.

  Pua stands beside me. “I finally get a sister,” she says. “It will be fun, I promise.” Her face beams, and for a second it reminds me of the small woman outside my last academic module. Like she really is glad I’m here.

  I offer her a weak smile.

  “And I bet you’re dying for a shower,” she says.

  Shower. Finally, a word I understand. “Yes,” I say. “A shower would be wonderful.”

  * * *

  I don’t know if there are any showers on the island, but this is definitely not one of them. It’s a hose running from the outside, through a window in the toilet room, looped around a hook so that water can pour out at approximately head level into a giant basin below. The water is cold, and I have to use a hard bar for soap instead of it coming through the wash cycle.

  Once dry and dressed in what Pua calls jeans and a T-shirt, I admit I feel much better, though. The smell of sizzling food makes my stomach grumble, and I gratefully finish off two plates of onions, potatoes, bacon, and eggs at a table with Pua and Miri. The flavors send my taste buds to another galaxy, it’s so unbelievably good. Not like the bland food in our Batch eatery. Theron would have loved this food—he would’ve loved just smelling this food.

  I wipe the moisture from my eyes, stand, and carry my plate and utensils to a sink in what Pua tells me is their kitchen. Miri excuses herself for a nap, and Pua comes to stand by me.

  “First thing you’ll learn, Nine, is everyone has to work to contribute. Seeing as how you just washed ashore yesterday,” she says with a smile, “no one expects you to do much for a couple of weeks. You can tag along with me and learn as I do my chores. When the baby comes, Mom will be out of commission, and your help will come in handy around here.”

  There’s that baby word again. “I can wash dishes,” I say, grateful for working extra dish hours in the eatery back in Freedom. I want to keep myself busy—my thoughts on things other than Theron and trying to get home. I look around for a dish machine but can’t find one.

  Pua hands me a sponge and another hard bar of soap.

  “No dish machine?” I ask.

  “No dish machine,” she says with a sigh, watching my lips. “No lights, no oven, no heat, no cinema, no nothing that involves tech.”

  I scrunch my brows together. “Why not?”

  “Because anything that can be run with electrical power can be—” Pua gives me a sidelong glance. “We just don’t use any kind of electrical energy here.”

  “In your home?”

  “On the whole island.”

  Nothing Techies can detect. I wonder why not. I think of the tracker behind my ear, and my mouth goes dry.

  “Not that I really miss any of those things,” Pua continues. “I’ve never seen them. I wouldn’t even know about them if my mom—” She bites her lip. “Here, just follow what I do. You’ll get the hang of it.” Pua rubs her sponge on the bar, dips it in a bucket of hot water, and shows me how to become the dish machine.

  She doesn’t trust me and is keeping something from me for some reason. Not that I blame her; I don’t exactly trust them entirely either. But what choice do I have? At least Pua seems nice.

  Actually, everyone seems nice except Kai. I wonder what his problem is. It’s like he hates me just for the way I look. Again, nothing new, reminding me of certain people in my Batch. People who were in my Batch, that is. If anything, Kai’s the one who looks like a freak with his dark skin and giant tattoo. I can imagine what others would say about him, if he were in my Batch. My spots would be forgotten in an instant.

  After dish duty Pua leads me outside. “This is our homestead,” she says with her arms out, spinning around.

  “What’s a homestead?” I ask, but she doesn’t respond. I look around and see all that greenery again, in every direction. It’s beautiful against the blue of the sky. Even the air smells amazing, sweet and fresh and moist all at the same time.

  “We have our house,” Pua says, pointing to the wood building we just came from. “It’s in desperate need of a paint job, and Kai swears he’s come up with a formula to make paint. My bet is we’ll just have to cross our fingers and wait for the next steamship supply.”

  Pua walks down the black rock path I remember from the day before, and I follow her.

  “This trail will take you down to the beach, where Dad and Kai found you.”

  I see the trail disappear into dense foliage. I shudder, thinking about the beach and ocean beyond. I have no plans to go farther down that path any time soon. Pua leads me back around the house, pointing out a well that provides fresh water and a pump that connects to it that somehow brings water into the house.

  “Except the shower head is broken,” she says, “and thus the makeshift hose through the window.”

  She shows me a fenced area with chickens, pigs, and a cow. I’d never been interested in becoming a Farmer. The animals in Freedom were kept in warehouses and connected to machines. They look so odd out here in the open.

  “We keep a herd of sheep, up here.” Pua leads me up a short hill. On the other side is a fenced-in pasture with about twenty sheep roaming lazily through the grass. And beyond that is sky. A bright blue that feels like it could swallow me whole just by the expansiveness of it. I’ve never seen such a clear blue before. It’s a far cry from the gray-tinged hazy sky of Freedom. Theron would like this
sky, I think.

  From our vantage point on the hill, Pua points out a couple of things I hadn’t noticed before. Tucked into the foliage near the path that leads to the ocean is a boat made of two long and thin hulls connected by what looks like a bridge between them that has a mast for sails. Pua calls it a double-hulled canoe and explains it is used for fishing, mostly, out on the ocean. Miri said they had no boats, but I guess this one doesn’t count. It doesn’t look like it’d be able to travel the distance to Freedom.

  “We have a few banana trees,” Pua says. “Mango, avocado, and lemon, too.”

  Also, just behind the house is a series of raised beds that make up their garden. Vegetables of all sorts crowd the boxes.

  “That’s where we’ll work today,” she says. “Weeding and harvesting green beans. Aren’t you absolutely thrilled?”

  Her sarcasm rubs off, and I can’t help but smile.

  * * *

  It’s hot, and my legs are starting to hurt from kneeling all morning, but I don’t mind. The work keeps my mind busy, and it actually feels good to see buckets full of food I harvested myself. To feel like what I’m doing matters and will benefit more than just me.

  “Where did you get Remade?” I ask Pua as I exchange a full basket for an empty one. With no tech on the island, I wonder if they were shipped somewhere else via steamship on their seventeenth birthdays. Or worse, didn’t have the chance to be Remade at all. Pua doesn’t answer though she’s right in front of me, pulling beans off the low plants. I don’t think she’s being rude; she’s been nice enough the rest of the day. It’s almost like she can’t hear me.

  I reach forward and nudge her shoulder.

  She looks up and smiles. “Yes?”

  Strange. “Where did you and Kai get Remade?” I ask again.

  “We didn’t.”

  “Doesn’t anyone get Remade here?”

  Pua laughs quietly. “No, they don’t.”

  This place is a prison, I realize. Where people are expected to labor all day without the help of any tech. I wonder if they’ve been banished from Freedom for some crime or another. My heart beats a little faster, wondering what sort of people I’ve landed myself with.

  “But what if you want to choose to be something else?” I ask, still unable to wrap my mind around the thought of not having a choice. Of not being equal or free.

  “What we are is a gift,” she says. “Our hair color, our skin, our family, our gender. Even our ability to see or touch or hear.” Pua’s eyes fall to her hands; she twists a green bean in her fingers. “They are all things to be grateful for, and we don’t try to question why things are. We’re just grateful that they are.” She smiles a tiny grin. “I guess we trust that our first Maker knew what he was doing in the first place.”

  I wish I had that kind of faith in my own Makers. Maybe they knew what they were doing when they Made a red-haired, spotted girl, but they didn’t bother telling me. And I doubt they saw this coming—the shuttle crash, the island. The current has shifted, and I’m left drifting, trying to figure everything out on my own.

  I want to ask her what family means—Miri said that word earlier today as well—but before I have the chance, a piercing scream comes from the house that makes me drop my empty bucket and fall back on my rear.

  “What is it?” Pua asks.

  A second scream, louder and more desperate than the first, makes my skin crawl, and I cover my ears to block the sound.

  Pua grabs my arm. “What’s wrong, Nine? Are you okay?”

  I press my hands harder against the sides of my head. “Can’t you hear that?”

  She shakes me and asks again, “What’s wrong? What do you hear?”

  A third time the scream comes, and I turn to the house. I feel the blood rush out of my face. It’s Miri. “She’s screaming,” I say, lifting my arm to point.

  Pua stands in an instant and sprints toward the house. I get up slowly and, summoning what little bravery I have, follow behind her. I stumble, realizing with equal horror that Pua didn’t hear anything I said or the dreadful screaming.

  Pua can’t hear anything at all.

  “Nine?”

  I follow Pua’s voice through the kitchen and into a room at the back of the house. The room Miri had gone in for her nap. The house is dark, even though it’s the middle of the day. I suppose it’s because I’ve been out in the sun all morning, and the contrast is jarring.

  When she sees me, Pua stands and runs to me. Her arms are streaked with blood, all the way to her elbows. I don’t want to look behind her, but I can’t help it. My eyes confirm it’s Miri who’s been screaming in pain, though she’s silent at the moment. She lies in her bed. There’s blood on her. And on the blankets beneath her.

  I double over. It’s just like that woman, back in Freedom, bleeding on the bed. Only here there are no men at Miri’s bedside. Still, all that blood. This can’t be good. This can’t be good at all.

  It takes me a minute to realize Pua is yelling at me. “You need to get Dad and Kai. Please, Nine. We need you.”

  I straighten and nod. “Okay.”

  “They’re at the beach checking the nets,” Pua says. “Follow the path to the beach like I showed you, and bring them quickly. I can’t leave Mom right now. I need you to do this.”

  I turn and run out of the room. Out of the house. Grateful to be away from all that blood. I don’t stop at the black rock trail, or when it leads into the foliage. Trying to be brave, I keep running and hope I find Ara and Kai as soon as possible. When I run onto the sand, I stop moving. I stop breathing. The water . . . it’s wide and blue and never ending. The white water that churns at the shore is so violent, I wonder how I could’ve ever thought it beautiful that night on the roof of our Batch building. It’s anything but beautiful. It’s a churning death, the mouth of the ocean itself, the edge of Theron’s grave. He’s somewhere out there.

  I can’t breathe. I try to take in a breath but nothing comes.

  “Nine?” It’s Ara’s voice.

  I look to my left and see him walking up the shore, holding a mass of tangled rope on his shoulder. Kai is behind him, holding more rope. No—they are holding the same rope . . . a net, draped between the two of them.

  Breathe, Nine. Breathe.

  “Nine, what’s wrong?” Ara asks. “What are you doing here? Where’s Pua?”

  There’s a reason I came here. Something important. I stumble toward him and say the words that strangle me. “Come. To the house.” It comes out soft and stifled. “Miriama. Something’s wrong.”

  Ara’s eyes go wide, and he drops the net in an instant, sprinting toward the homestead.

  Kai comes to me. His eyes rest on my face for the first time since we met. “Your lips are blue. Are you okay?”

  I think I’m hyperventilating. My breaths are short, and I feel light-headed. In fact, I think, I might . . .

  My knees buckle, and I fall to the ground. Only I don’t hit the ground. Kai catches me and lifts me. I don’t have enough energy to tell him not to touch me. I don’t want him to even look at me. But I just say, “Blood. There’s a lot of blood.”

  Kai gulps and carries me back toward the trail. Once the ocean is out of sight, and I feel a bit more lucid, I take deep breaths and feel my lungs relax. Up close like this, I notice Kai’s skin smells woody, like bark. But sweet, too. It reminds me of cinnamon. I tell him I’m fine now, and he can put me down. We both rush back to the house, though I’m afraid of what we’ll see and hear when we enter through the mesh door.

  Kai runs into Miri’s room where I can see Ara and Pua moving purposefully around her through the doorway. “What’s wrong?” Kai asks.

  I hesitate in the kitchen and strain to hear their answer.

  “She’ll be fine,” Ara says. “Baby’s coming a little early, that’s all.”

  “What can I do?” Kai asks.

  Ara turns to Kai and sees me behind him, peeking around the kitchen wall. I cover my mouth, hoping I’ll keep m
y breakfast in at the sight of all the blood.

  “You can get Nine out of here,” Ara says. “Puangi and I have this. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

  Kai sighs heavily and turns to me with a look of contempt. “C’mon,” he says, waving me back out of the house. We walk around to the shady side of the building, just under Miri’s window. I slide to the ground like Kai and try to hear what’s going on inside. Every minute or so Miri’s screams spill out of the window, making me cringe every time.

  “What’s happening?” I ask Kai. “Is she dying?”

  Kai rolls his eyes. “No, she’s not dying. She’s having a baby.”

  I’d much rather talk with someone else, anyone else, but since staying silent is torturing me, I risk having an actual conversation with him.

  “What’s a baby?” I ask.

  “Geez, you’re such a child, Nine. You know that?” Kai rubs his chin and sighs. “A baby is a new human. Brand new. Freshly Made.”

  “You mean an infant?” I’ve never heard the word baby before coming here. And though I’ve never seen one myself, I know what a new human is. “Is Miriama a Maker?” I ask.

  “Not the way you think.” Kai looks at me, his eyes running down my torso and arms, staring at my knees huddled up against my chest. “You’re red.”

  It sounds like he said I’m “rid,” and it takes me a minute to realize what he meant. I instinctively brush my scalp and feel the spiky growth there.

  “No,” he says. “Your skin is red. You’re sunburned.”

  I look at my arms and legs, and sure enough there’s a pink hue to them.

  “Your face—” Kai reaches out his hand as though he will brush my cheeks, then drops it quickly. “You’ll need to wear a hat and long sleeves when you’re working outside from now on.” His voice is calm. “We don’t have any sunscreen, but Mom has some wide-brimmed hats you can borrow.”

  “The blood,” I say. “Is that from the baby?” I know Ara and Kai both said Miri would be fine, but it’s hard to believe after seeing all that blood, and I’m worried for her.