Untouchable

By RaeLynn Fry

It’s been a long road for Ethan, Karis, and Journey, and they’re not at the end yet...
Ethan has returned from the Further with new friends, experiences, and questions, prepared for the fight with the Corporation, but not sure he has what’s needed to win back Karis’ love. When forced to admit what his heart really wants, Ethan’s not sure he can accept it.
Spurred by her jealousy of Kayde, Journey turns him in to the Corporation, but when they take Karis as well, she vows to do whatever it takes to get her best friend back. Picked for an Internship she never applied for, Journey is given the opportunity to prove her loyalties and in the process she finds out she’s so much more than others—and even herself—gave her credit for.
Karis was taken into Dahn with Kayde much earlier than any of them had planned for. When they’re separated and Karis is taken under the wing of Rebeka and Kayde under the tutelage of Akin, she worries he won’t be able to protect himself, because when you’re in the belly of the beast, your choices always end up hurting the ones you love.
When their paths converge for what could be the last time, will the three friends be who they were before, or someone else, entirely?
UNTOUCHABLE is the third and final book in the young adult dystopian series, The Corporation. Set in a world where the strongest corporation has all the power and control, Karis navigates secret agendas, betrayal, dark secrets, found family, and broken promises to take down anyone that gets in her way–no matter who it is.

For fans of The Giver, Blood Red Road, Divergent & The Hunger Games, UNTOUCHABLE is the thrilling conclusion to The Corporation series. If you enjoyed the suspenseful journey and fight for freedom in these books, then you'll love adding this final installment to their favorites list!

Praise for The Corporation series:

* * * * * “I wish I could read faster so I could finished the book...The end of CASTE had me rushing to get to the next page” - Reader Review

* * * * * “I truly enjoyed this story and was surprised at the ending, but there is more to come.” –Goodreads Review

* * * * * “I loved the story and the fact that RaeLynn managed to build such a story, avoiding the standards the present society puts, such as the excess toxicity and abusive behaviour.

Waiting for more and becoming one of your biggest fans.” –Goodreads Review

The Corporation Series:

Book 1, Caste
Novella, Heir
Book 2, Outcast
Book 3, Untouchable

• Language: English
• Publisher: RaeLynn Fry
• Release date: Apr 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9780989213448

RaeLynn Fry

The first thing you need to know about RaeLynn Fry is that she hates writing about herself in the third person, but she has been told it is more "professional", so this is her attempt at being a grown up.​RaeLynn loves all things Young Adult: books, tv shows, movies, discussions. She loves the newness that YA brings and the experiences that come with growing up. She reads and writes voraciously; sometimes it just takes her a little longer than others to finish.She has been married for a LONG time and has two beautiful girls. She lives in the amazing state of Idaho and loves doing anything outdoors. She used to be a competitive Irish dancer and if you ask nicely, she may just dance you a genuine jig. She has an unhealthy obsession with expensive handbags and too-tall high heels. And office supplies. And books. And fine point pens (because those are, honestly, the only kind any of you lot should be using). She loves the X-Files and Jesus, but not in that order.Overall, she's pretty laid back, disorganized, and pretends to have an astute attention to detail. But that is a lie she will readily admit. She also has a killer personality and great sense of humor.She has a passion for writing and supporting the writing community and young authors. She is one of the founding members of #TheWriterCommunity.She authors the YA Dystopian series: Caste, Heir, Outcast, and Untouchable (coming 2022); all books in The Corporation Series. There are many more amazing books on the horizon, so you'll always be entertained. ;)​There, she did it. How'd she do?

Book preview

Untouchable

A Corporation Novel, Book 3

RaeLynn Fry

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Terebinth Tree Publishing, LLC

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.

Untouchable

All rights reserved.

Published by Terebinth Tree Publishing, llc

Copyright © 2024 by RaeLynn Fry

Cover art by Stone Ridge Books

This book is protected under the copyright law of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork here in is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

First Printing: June 2024

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition: June 2024

ISBN-13: 978-0-9892134-4-8

www.RaeLynnFry.com

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To my husband and my kiddos.

And the dog, too.

Contents

1.BEFORE

2.Journey

3.Ethan

4.DAY ONE

5.Journey

6.Ethan

7.Journey

8.Ethan

9.Journey

10.Ethan

11.Journey

12.Ethan

13.Karis

14.DAY TWO

15.Karis

16.Journey

17.Ethan

18.Journey

19.Karis

20.Ethan

21.DAY THREE

22.Karis

23.Journey

24.Karis

25.Journey

26.DAY FOUR

27.Journey

28.Karis

29.Journey

30.DAY FIVE

31.Karis

32.Journey

33.Ethan

34.Journey

35.DAY SIX

36.Journey

37.DAY EIGHT

38.Karis

39.Journey

40.DAY NINE

41.Journey

42.DAY TWELVE

43.Ethan

44.Karis

45.Ethan

46.DAY THIRTEEN

47.Ethan

48.Journey

49.Karis

50.DAY FIFTEEN

51.Ethan

52.Karis

53.DAY SEVENTEEN

54.Ethan

55.DAY NINETEEN

56.Ethan

57.DAY TWENTY

58.Ethan

59.DAY TWENTY-ONE

60.Ethan

61.Karis

62.Journey

63.Karis

64.Journey

65.DAY TWENTY-TWO

66.Ethan

67.Journey

68.Ethan

69.Karis

70.Ethan

71.Karis

72.DAY FORTY-THREE

73.Karis

74.Ethan

75.EPILOGUE

76.Journey

77.Kayde

78.This is the end of the Corporation...

79.Want a little more?

About RaeLynn

80.Also By RaeLynn Fry

81.Thank You

The Who’s Who and What’s What of The Corporation Series

BEFORE

Journey

L isten up. Debora, our Foreman, walks into the room, eyes glued to the Databoard in her hands. The steady thrum of the sewing machines and murmured conversations come to a dwindling halt. My hand pauses mid-stitch. I have a couple of announcements. She squints up at the grimy factory windows and adjusts her position to get away from the early morning glare and dust particles.

Debora’s attractive enough—or would be—if she took care of herself. She’s a little taller than me and thicker—probably because she’s middle-aged and has had a couple of kids. I wish she’d put a little color on her face, either her cheeks or lips. And I wish she’d wear clothes that fit her better. I mean, she works as a seamstress, for goodness’s sake. Maybe I could suggest these small fixes. I frown and shake my head a little. That didn’t go over well the last few times I tried. Oh well, I think to myself, and flip my blond curls over my shoulders.

It’s Internship season, Debora says. Openings are posted on the board near the lockers. There are three so if you want to apply, do it quickly. Selections will be announced later this month.

I pick up my stitching again. An Internship would be amazing. It would elevate my status and make my name even stronger in the Inner City.

Our Foreman moves on. Some special orders need work. They’ve requested Shera—

My head whips in Debora’s direction and my scoff of disbelief is loud enough for all the other seamstresses to hear. Debora gives me a frown at the same time Shera gives me a satisfied sneer. No one has ever requested Shera. She’s lazy and sloppy. Notorious for taking shortcuts to get done with her quota early. She doesn’t even have an eye for detail. Disgusting hack.

—But last I checked; you weren’t up to date. Debora pulls up Shera’s progress on her Databoard. It looks like you’re behind.

But I— Shera sputters.

Debora gives a sharp shake of her head. This request is from a White Lady. We can’t afford it to be late or not done to perfection.

I give a smug grin, running my gaze over the blouse in my hands to make sure I haven’t missed anything. Serves her right.

Journey, let’s see where you’re at. She taps at the screen and I send a satisfied smirk in Shera’s direction. I already know where I’m at: ahead, as always. Looks like you’re already into tomorrow’s quota, Journey.

Yes, ma’am, I say demurely.

Shera lets out a disgusted grunt, which makes me sit up taller and push my shoulders back a little more.

Debora taps my seamstress number into her Databoard for the request and sets the hanging garment bag across the corner of my station.

Looks like it will be another late night. Not that it matters. Dhevan still isn’t back from the Further and Karis and I aren’t exactly speaking much these days.

It’s not like I want us to be fighting. Or that I enjoy pointing out all the things that should be blatantly obvious to her. Like the fact that she hardly knows Adami yet spends all her available time with him. Or that she was Paired to Kavin and is supposedly in love with Ethan, yet is flirting with this Untouchable to an embarrassing degree.

I curl my lip at the thought of it all. Every time I try to talk to her about these things—like any best friend worth their salt would do—she gets ridiculously upset and stops listening. I thought best friends were supposed to be more tolerant of each other. I thought it would take more than this to unravel a friendship that had been stitched and re-stitched for the past seventeen years.

I turn my attention to the order ticket with a sigh. Elegant script lists out the clothing items and what the White Lady wants done. As if I need a White Lady to tell me how to do my job. I give an airy snort.

Pants: Fix hem at cuff on left leg

Suit: Take in at waist quarter inch

Blouse: Embroidery at shoulder has loose threads

I reach in and pull out the first item my fingers touch—the blouse. I spot the issue immediately when I go to the shoulder.

You’d think Inner City women would take better care of their clothes, I say to myself.

The blouse is a beautiful light taupe and the embroidery is different colored flowers that spill over the shoulder and down the sleeves. The front and back are bare silk.

I follow the flora with my fingers to make sure there aren’t any other snags or flaws she didn’t catch. I’m that good at what I do. When I finish with the second sleeve, ready to make my notes on the repair I’m going to be making, I pause. Something’s wrong with the cuff.

I frown a little as my fingers play with a bulge between the layers of fabric, rolling it back and forth between the pads of my thumb and forefinger, trying to decipher what it might be. Whoever worked on this garment last did a sloppy job of hemming either a piece of fabric or a knot of thread isn’t laying right.

I glance around the room and find my nemesis. This mistake is probably hers. I smile wickedly at the thought of finding and fixing one of Shera’s, doubtlessly, many mistakes. I make a noise of annoyance in the back of my throat.

This is my opportunity to show this White Lady—and the rest of Dahn—who the best seamstress in Neech is. I smirk and grab my seam ripper to fix the mistake that Shera’s fat, sloppy fingers have made.

I only undo as many stitches as is the width of the flaw. I gently unfold the hem so I can straighten out the fabric inside with my seam ripper. But there’s no fabric. I squint my eyes and stoop my neck forward to get a better look. I work out a small piece of paper rolled up into the tiniest of scrolls.

This is causing the imperfection? I’m confused. Why would there be a slip of paper here? It takes a few times to unroll the paper because it keeps wanting to curl back up on itself. My eyes skip over the writing when I finally get it flat.

The block letters are tiny, but I can make them out without a problem.

We have no other option

Next to that is the upside-down symbol of the Corporation. I gasp and scramble to shove the piece of paper into the pocket of my sewing apron.

Those three inverted circles are a sign of disrespect used by the rebellion that’s been creeping up and trying to get bigger. The one that Dhevan left to help. I wish he hadn’t asked me to let him go out into the Further. I don’t agree with what’s happening and now that same dangerous snake is coiled in my lap, waiting to strike.

Prick your finger? Shera asks from her workstation just a few feet away.

Her hair is thin and brown and falls to her shoulders where it gets feathery with split ends. She wears glasses that are too small for her face. Her mouth is constantly in a frown and her nose is thin and pinched. There’s dirt under her nails, which are resting on her hips. I sneer at the sight. Shera is probably one of the most obnoxious women I know. Correction, she is the most obnoxious person. She doesn’t care an ounce about her appearance and I would testify to the fact that irritating and insulting others is what keeps her alive.

Um, yes. Clumsy me. I quickly thread a needle and repair the ripped seam I created. I get to working on the embroidery and the other items on the White Lady’s list. I grip the fabric and needle harder to minimize the shaking in my fingers. I can’t let my work suffer because of my nerves. No one can find any evidence I’ve found this note.

A White Lady is arguably the most important position in Dahn and the Corporation and whoever is supposed to be getting this parcel and whoever sent it are part of the rebellion. Even though my Pair is out there trying to help, doesn’t mean I’m obligated to help by putting this note back and pretending I didn’t find it. Whatever it is they’re communicating, it isn’t Corporation sanctioned. Of that I’d bet my life.

I roll my shoulders back. I will not be a participant in helping them talk about or—gods forbid—plan whatever it is they are trying to do. No, I will do my part in keeping the peace and not making things any worse than they already are.

I stand and give a little cough, glancing around to make sure no one is paying any attention. I walk casually over to the barrel fire. If anyone asks, I’m warming my fingers from the ever present cold this dreaded season brings with it. It’s hard to do our detailed work with stiff joints and straight fingers.

When I get in front of the warm flames I flick in the rolled slip of paper and hurry back to my station. When I look around again, Shera is staring at me with a furrowed brow.

Did she see what I did? Even if she was watching me, there’s no way she could’ve seen what I threw into the flames. At least, I don’t think she could. It was too small for her to notice it from as far away as she is. I’m pretty sure she didn’t. But there’s always the possibility…

I close my eyes and bring my finger up to my temple. When I open them again, Shera’s still watching me. I hold her gaze and give her a tiny nasty look, as if to say, What are you looking at, you ugly cow?

I wish I had never gotten this order. I wish, for once, that Shera knew what time management was and had her work completed. That she could have taken this request. But something still nags at me. No one requests Shera on purpose. Ever. So why did this person?

My heart speeds up the tiniest bit. What if they knew about her reputation in the Factory? What if they chose her because of it? They knew their message would go through without an issue. But that didn’t happen, and now my number is entered into the system as working on the garments. I gasp. They’ll know it was me when they find out it’s missing.

My eyes go wide and I look around. I don’t know what for. A way out of this mess, maybe? But there is none. I already destroyed the note so I can’t put it back. A new thought strikes me. Does Shera know what’s going on? Is she part of this? If she is, she’ll know I’ll have found the note. What if she then thinks I’m okay with what they’re doing? Worse yet, what if she thinks I’m helping them?

My thoughts go wild. For someone like me and my attention to detail there’s no way I would have missed something as obvious as a note hidden in a seam. You’re being absurd, Journey.

I give another quick glance to Shera. She’s still watching me, though only from the corner of her eye. She knows. She must know. My palms sweat the smallest amount. I wipe them on the skirts of my dress. I need to talk to Karis. But then I remember, I can’t talk to her about any of this. She’s been acting crazy and reckless lately. Adami has changed something in her. She’d probably tell me to do something insane, like to write back.

No. I’m going to keep these notes from getting to their intended destination. And somehow, I need to find out who this person is and who they’re trying to reach so that when the Corporation comes to me—because it’s only a matter of time before they find out—I’ll have two identities for them, and maybe my involvement can be overlooked.

I finish the last of the items on the White Lady’s list and shove them back into the original bag, quickly signing off on the work order. I don’t leave my workstation as gracefully or as neatly as I normally do, and my clumsiness draws unwanted attention. Shera’s suspicious stare follows me. I put extra care and effort into my movements as I walk across the factory floor and up the unstable metal staircase to Debora’s office.

Finished already? she asks with a frown.

Mhm, I nod. Then I remember to smile.

You sure? She looks over the work order, flipping back and forth between the list of fixes and each individual piece.

Yes. I try to look at the papers on Debora’s desk to see if I can find any sort of name. The sooner I know who these dangerous people are, the sooner I can notify the Corporation and get out of this mess.

Ethan

Spring comes too early. In Dahn, winter lasts about three months, with spring rolling in sometime during the fourth month. Out here in the Further, it’s different. The weather is unpredictable and strange.

Winter had been deep and strong and felt like it was going to last near forever. And then, almost overnight, the heavy gray clouds thinned and warm weather and wet days rolled in. Rain is rain—I’ve seen it before—but out here in the Further, under a sky of freedom, it feels different.

Dhevan and I have been in Nagar for nearly six months. Five months and three weeks longer than I wanted to be.

The first thing we learned when we arrived in Nagar was that Matthias, the leader of the community, was at another settlement. No one knew when he would be back.

That’s what we’ve been waiting on these past handful of months—to talk to the mysterious Matthias so he and the council can weigh our worth and decide if they’re going to help or not.

The second thing I learned was that Kayde was no longer here. Kavin had said that Kayde never joined them on pickups, but what he left out was that Kayde was missing. He disappeared, and no one knows where he went or when he plans to come back. The one thing everyone does know, though, is that he’s in a heap of trouble when he does.

Nagar sits in the middle of mostly dry, cracked land, bordered on two sides by a long, shallow gouge with a stream at the bottom. It’s nestled up against a forest of dark, dead trees with flat mountains in the close distance. It’s compact and dusty and noisy and cluttered with people and... perfect. Stepping foot into this tent city was close to coming home, and that was a strange feeling.

Everyone pulls their weight in Nagar. As soon as they assigned Dhevan and I our tents and we put our meager possessions away, they put us to work. Dhevan let the community know about his experience with animals, farming, construction, and manual labor. I shuffled my feet and mumbled something about my immense skills in politics, contracts, negotiations, and doublespeak. When the guy assigning to us raised his eyebrow and held it for a long, silent minute, I said, I have a little experience with milking. He had looked relieved as he scribbled something down on his clipboard and told us to follow him.

They deposited me at a rickety-looking pen filled with a dozen tough-looking goats and a few scattered cows. There was a short stool and a row of buckets, so I took the hint and milked. I spent the entire day—and every day since—stooped under smelly animals during the day and falling onto an uneven cot in a small, meager tent at night.

That’s how I’ve spent the past 183 days since coming to Nagar, and each night has been a better night’s sleep than the one before.

DAY ONE

Journey

Istep onto the front porch of our small white house and look out into the empty street. It’s lined with other small houses, identical to ours, each separated by a six foot wide strip of dead grass and weeds. Chain-link fences surround each rectangle of property. It’s one of the few upper Caste sectors in Neech.

The sun is thinking about rising, making the sky a diluted blue, almost gray, color. I pull a lungful of air in through my nose and hold it for a second, just until my chest burns. There’s a slight nip to the air with a bit of moisture behind it. Spring has been trying to slip in for weeks and it feels like it’s finally arriving.

I let a small smile touch my lips before I put it away. I shouldn’t find joy in even something as simple as the season changing—with everything that’s going on around me, but I can’t help it. I need something to hang on to, to make everything feel normal again. The way they should be. Nothing is in its proper place and that’s not right. It makes everything around me feel so...wrong. I close my eyes for a second.

As soon as Dhevan and Ethan get back, I’ll talk sense into my Pair and we’ll go back to how things have always been—we won’t stir up anything more than what we already have. We can send Adami back to wherever he came from. Karis won’t be distracted by him anymore and she can focus on Ethan. I’m not much of a fan of his, either, but he’s the safer option. I’ll have my best friend and my Pair back. We can have the lives we had before.

"What are you doing out here, all strange and...strange? My little brother lets the wooden frame of the screen door slap shut. You’re weird, ya know that?"

Seeing Kerick reminds me of Ajna, and—even if Adami were gone and Ethan were back—things will never go back to how they’re supposed to be.

My brother brushes past me with a slight bump to my arm as he trots down the front steps. I try not to let my scowl furrow my brow. I’m already noticing lines creep up around the outsides of my eyes and across my forehead. Which are the last things I need right now.

I press the pads of my fingers to the skin above my eyes and wait for it to relax. I take a step off the porch and lengthen my strides to catch up with my little brother. Delicately, I place my mask over my mouth and secure the elastic straps behind my ears. I just did my lipstick and my curls look especially good today.

I’m not liking this attitude you’ve picked up. I do my best imitation of our mother.

He looks me up and down, running his eyes over my hair and face before he shakes his head. You spend too much time on how you look, like it’s important.

"It is important. I brush my curls with my fingers, adjusting them over my shoulders. You always need to be presentable. Show others you find looking your best important. That you care. It shows you take the time needed in everything you do."

"All’s it shows is that you only care about yourself. Not anything that matters."

When did he think about such grown-up things? I smooth the skirts of my dress because I can’t think of anything else to do. That’s ridiculous, I say with a puff of breath. And if you don’t start being more respectful, there will be consequences.

Kerick snorts out a laugh. "Yeah? And you think you’ll be givin’ them to me?" He laughs at the thought before he dances away.

Warmth crawls up the back of my neck and I grind my molars. I take a deep breath and unclench my jaw, transferring my frustration into my hands, where I dig my nails into my palms before I release it all.

He gives me one of his more disapproving looks over his shoulder. You should be more like Karis. She knows what’s important. He pulls away from me. Hey, Karis.

At the mention of my best friend, Karis Singh falls into step with us. Morning, Kerick. She reaches out to ruffle his hair, but he ducks and darts out of her reach, too. Then she looks me up and down, like she always does. Morning, Journey. Followed by a soft laugh. Still in your dresses and makeup? Karis has adopted the fashion of unflattering and ugly pants with loose shirts and lace-up boots around the outside of her trousers.

I try not to curl my lip. "Don’t you dare start in on me, too. I’ve already gotten a lecture from my little brother," I throw the word little out toward Kerick, and I don’t need one from my best friend.

Alright, alright. I was just teasing. She puts an arm around my shoulders. You should try them out.

She did notice me disapproving of her clothing choice. You will never catch me in pants. Those are for men and I am a lady. I shrug her arm off from around my hair. It’s like these people don’t understand and appreciate how much time and effort goes into maintaining naturally curly hair. I can’t just wake up like this.

At least you’re wearing your mask more, she says with a smile.

I reach up and dab it with my finger. Well, yes, with what we found out about what’s coming through the filters... I didn’t believe Karis for the longest time. But I’d rather be alive with smudged lips than have perfect lipstick in death.

Pants are the best. Kerick spins around so he’s walking backwards.

Watch where you’re going, I say. You might run into something.

I’m going to call you Henny because you’re always pecking at me. He sticks his tongue out in my direction.

Now that’s not nice, Karis says with a laugh. She only cares about you and wants you to be safe. She turns to me. But to be fair, you have been hounding him a bit more than normal.

Well, excuse me. I’m noticing things have changed for the worse and I’m doing all that I can to keep some part of the lives we’re used to. I fold my arms around the front of my waist.

Ain’t gonna happen, Sis. And you won’t be anywhere near ready when that day comes for you. Kerick rolls his eyes in a judging way.

Karis laughs again.

Where is all this happiness coming from? What do you know about anything ending? I say. You’re eight, Kerick. And this is all very doom and gloom. I’m not a fan.

Kerick spins back around. I’m almost nine, and a blind man can see the inevitable path we’re on.

Karis leans closer to me and whispers, "Inevitable path?"

I know, I whisper back. That’s how he’s been talking. He’s getting it from someone. Along with his attitude. I don’t like it.

Could be he’s just growing up and finding who he is? But Karis doesn’t sound convinced.

I’m just glad Ajna isn’t around for Kerick to drag— My hands fly up to my mouth, but it’s too late, the words are already out. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything.

She puts a warm hand on my arm and gives me a sad smile. It’s okay, Journey. Really. I know what you meant.

Well, I’ll tell you what, I say, trying to pretend I didn’t make the brainless and insensitive error I just had. This isn’t who Kerick is. I’m going to find the person responsible and put the fear of the gods into them.

Karis pulls away and smiles, raising her voice back to normal. With what, your embroidery kit?

I can’t help but smile back. I could do some damage with my pink and purple thread. My fingers go to the corners of my eyes, where small ridges have been created by a smile that’s too big. Karis looks at me weirdly and I drop my hand.

How are the filters going? Kerick tosses over his shoulder to Karis.

She pats at the bag slung over her body, resting at her hip. It tinkles a little with the glass and metal vials. Slow and steady wins the race, she says. I got about a dozen this morning before meeting up with you guys. We’ll get them over to Eta this afternoon.

Has she found anything out yet? I ask.

Karis shrugs. If she has, she isn’t sharing anything with me. Adami says it will take time. Anything the Corporation develops will be complicated.

Because he has so much experience with the Corporation and their methods. My muscles tighten and my heartbeat speeds up inside my chest.

Kerick! The shout cuts through my sudden, foul mood. A small group of kids—most of them at least two years older than my brother—stand up ahead. They all have Marks from different guilds and they’re all trouble.

Kerick jumps a little in his excitement. Hey, guys! He raises his hand in an eager wave and his actual age and immaturity comes through. For a second, my heart squeezes and all I want to do is protect my little brother. From everything. From the Corporation. From our harsh, unfair lives. From these older kids who can have no other interest in him other than to take advantage.

Ker—

Karis puts her hand on my wrist. It’ll be okay.

I fight back a tightness in my throat. But they’re trouble. It sounds whiny, even to me.

They’re kids doing what kids do. Testing boundaries, defying authority—but only a little. They’re good kids at the core.

Good kids? I look at her in surprise.

You’re being dramatic, Journey. Sonal is Kerick’s age and they’re in the same Guild. She’s sweet and comes from a good family.

"The last thing my brother needs is a girl following him around like a puppy trying to get him to pay attention to her. If he notices her in that way, then he’ll do anything to keep her. Stupid things."

Speaking from experience? She raises a brow at me.

No! I push a breath out of my nose. Sonal may be okay, but her older brother, Amit, isn’t.

Isn’t he one of the new farmers? Karis asks. What did Dhevan have to say about him?

Nothing, which is my point. If he were a good kid, Dhevan would have mentioned it. I toss my head slightly to get some strands of hair out of my face.

Journey, that’s a little farfetched... Her voice has a significant amount of annoyance to it now. Those twins, Prajwal and Laxman, don’t they work with your dad in the steel mill?

Maybe. Anyway, Maddy is three years older than Ajna. What could he want in being friends with a Candidate?

Maddy the Medic in training? The Maddy that’s shadowing Eta? You’re going to call him trouble? Karis shakes her head. This is getting a little desperate; you have to see that.

I just have a bad feeling about them. I cross my arms over my chest. They’re not up to anything good. Out until just before Curfew and no one knows where they’ve been or what they’ve been doing.

"You mean you don’t know where they’ve been or what they’ve been doing." Her voice is harder.

I frown. I see where she’s going with this. My old best friend would have taken my word as truth and sympathized with me rather than contradicted me. But that version of Karis is gone. I need to find her and bring her back. You know, I liked how you were before you thought Adami hung the moon and stars.

She stops walking. Are you being serious right now? There is no lightness or laughter in her scolding this time.

I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin higher. "Yes, I am being serious. You’re not who you were before he came. You spend all your free time with him. Your ideas and words are changing. He’s changing who you are, and it’s not for the better. It’s like everything you had and were before he came along, you’ve thrown away, all for him. We don’t even know who he is or why he’s here!" I’m trying to keep my voice calm and level. The last thing I want is my face to get red and blotchy from all this.

People change, Journey. Look around you, everyone is changing. We’re at a point where we change or we waste away and die. Everyone has realized it but you. Even your little brother is adapting! We’re stopped in the streets now, voices raising at each other. People are stopping to watch us.

I throw my hands up in the air. I don’t need to change! Nothing around us is so different that we need to be anyone other than who we are. If we all change, then things around us will be too different. We’re doing the very thing we don’t want to happen by upending our thinking and our ways. If we all were to just go on like before, things would be okay. I feel the anxiety waking from the center of my chest, reaching up and squeezing my throat.

Wake up, Journey. It’s been six months. Things will never be okay. Before is gone, it ended when Kavin and his family were Released. I changed back then, but you were too self-focused to notice. I don’t plan to go back to that other girl. If you’re waiting for that, it won’t happen, and you need to decide how you’re going to deal with it. Karis walks away from me.

I press my molars together until my jaw aches and I don’t even bother to stop myself this time. I ignore the stares and whispers, handing out a few good glares of my own.

Adami caused all of this. Everything has changed since he got here. And I’m going to make sure that stops.

Ethan

I’ve named my goats.

I’m not a creative person by nature, so coming up with twelve names took me around a month. But I did it. And I’m proud of my efforts. They’re ugly goats, but they’re my ugly goats. I walk to the pen with a whistle on my lips and a spring in my step. A chorus of bleating and bells precedes my herd.

I feel the beginnings of one of my memory headaches coming on behind my eyes—a small, stabbing sensation. They’re nothing like they were before, more uncomfortable than painful, now. And they come on less and less, which I think means I’ve gotten back pretty much all the memories I’m going to. I reach for the small notebook and pencil I always keep with me. I scribble down the fragmented wisp of a memory whose vibrancy has already dulled. My mom was cutting my dad’s hair in the middle of our kitchen. She was talking with me and accidently clipped the top of this ear with the scissors. I let out a laugh under my breath as I write it down and put the notebook back in my pocket, a smile on my newly bearded face.

Ugly, hungry faces reach over and through the wooden rungs of the pen. Some of my goats are chewing, jaws exaggerating with their effort. A few get their belled collars snagged on the rungs of the fence. One bleats at me and another swings its head into the goat next to it before pushing past. The black and white one nearest me—I call him Greenhorn—has his front legs up on the lowest rung of the fence, staring at me. He’s sort of become my buddy.

I shake the bucket of feed in my hand. The goats hop down from the fence and slam into each other, fighting to get closest. I don’t bother entering the pen through the gate. The first, and last, time I did that, three of them busted loose and it took me half the day to wrangle them up.

I swing my body over the top slat and land on the other side with a light thud. My tribe travels with me like a bleating cloud of dust as I head toward the middle. I’ve become skilled at moving without tripping over any of them. One by one, I let them stick their noses into the bucket for a mouthful of dried corn as I scratch behind their ears.

Gracie and Thomas are the oldest goats with brown and black markings. She’s pregnant with twins and her sides bulge in an odd and uncomfortable-looking way. The next two are Gabby—who bleats every hour of every day—and Hughes, after Akin. They’re both the ugliest breeds we have, with droopy, lidded eyes, little stubs for ears, and what look like two long earrings dangling from their jaws. My buddy, Greenhorn, is the friendliest of the bunch, often coming over to just say hi and give me a quick nuzzle. He’s also the newest in the tribe—like me—still learning how he fits in. Also like me.

I toss the rest of the corn onto the hard ground and turn to grab my milking stool. I jolt a little when I see Kavin leaning over the railing, watching me, his posture easy and rigid at the same time. Whenever he’s around, I bristle. This guy has taken everything away from me and is oblivious to it. 

We’ve said little to nothing to each other while here. The council didn’t want to make a firm decision about Dhevan and my requests until everyone was present, and Matthias has been gone for a while. As frustrating as that rule was when we first arrived, it’s been a nice break, allowing me to slow down and figure out what my end goal is and how to best get there. Even though the frustration at having to wait—the feeling that everything would fall apart if we did—was strong at the beginning, my new friend, Ballentine, pulled me back from the edge, reminding me that a handful of months wasn’t that long to wait in the view of forever.

Morning. I don’t offer anything friendly behind it as I jerk the stool toward me.

Morning. Kavin nods.

Come to help me milk? I rest the wooden stool against my thigh.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat as an answer. Matthias wants to talk to you. Kavin pushes away from the fence and turns his back, walking away.

He’s back? I set the stool down and swing my body over the fence, jogging to catch up. I slow to a walk and shove my hands deep into my pockets when I’m at his side.

Nagar is a simple settlement, made of tents and lean-tos and temporary pens for animals. The people can easily take everything down if they need to break camp in a hurry. From the looks of the amount of animal pens and add-ons to the tents, though, I assume they’ve been in this location for long enough to feel safe.

There’s no main road or path through the community, just a series of winding trails that move between tents, some more worn than others. I walk beside Kavin, wondering what it would be like to live in the constant state of being on the edge of picking up and moving; never knowing you’re home and can relax, always having to be ready to leave things behind.

What would it be like to live without roots? Freeing or immobilizing?

I shake the thought from my head and look up to see Ballantine sorting vegetables. He was one of the first people who befriended me when we arrived. He gives me a quizzical look and I mouth to him, Matthias. He nods and goes back to his work.

Here, Kavin says in a low voice.

Matthias’ tent is no different from any other tent in Nagar. It’s not bigger or nicer or more adorned. He’s made it his own with a couple of poles out front and a canvas awning attached with a stool and a small firepit under the cover.

Do I just go in? I ask, suddenly nervous.

He’ll come out when it’s your turn.

So, I stand there, waiting. It isn’t more than five minutes when the flaps to the tent open and a stooped, hulking figure emerges. Dhevan stretches to his full height once he’s out from under the doorway and looks me in the eye. Be honest. His words sound in line with that of a threat.

I wasn’t planning on lying, but thanks for the advice. I dust off my clothes and walk through the tent flaps.

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Some tents in the shanty are small pup tents—two poles and a string between them with cloth draped over. But most of them more resemble large rooms with a roof than an actual tent.

Matthias has done a good job of making his space feel welcoming and lived-in. It isn’t overly large—about fifteen feet squared. There’s a cot with blankets folded at one end against the wall. On my left is a small dresser holding a makeshift sink and eating area. Matthias sits and studies me from behind a desk covered in papers and a few candles at the furthest end.

Matthias is the color of goat’s milk with dark patches on his cheek and neck. He has a wide flat nose and his lips are almost too big for his face. His eyes slant down at the edges and are shrouded by heavy, dark eyebrows. Deep lines etch his face, connecting the outside of his nostrils to the corner of his mouth. His ears stick out a bit from the side of his head. His hair is dark and cropped short and his beard covers a square jaw.

I’m a bit taken aback by his appearance. I pictured him more like Akin—charismatic and good looking, to better convince and persuade people. But the casual confidence Matthias possesses tells me he has his place of power because he can do the job well, not because of looks or his suave manner.

His dirty, stubby fingers fold together on top of a small stack of papers. Please, sit. His voice matches what I imagined—deep and commanding.

Thank you. When I do, I cross my ankle over my knee, hoping to appear completely at ease and comfortable. Maybe I can convince myself of that, too.

My name is Matthias; I help run Nagar. Our community’s foundation is hard work, honesty in all we do and say, and making sure we provide and take care of each of our brethren. No one is left behind when we do that for the other. I have to know you’re willing to abide by those rules. His delivery is rehearsed and I realize it must be a speech he gives to everyone when they first arrive.

I have been doing that, yes, sir, I say.

His face breaks into a smile. I’ve heard you’re the best goat keeper we’ve had in ages.

Pride swells in my chest. Thank you.

You’ve proven yourself a hard worker, so now we move onto the honesty portion.

I have nothing to hide. Except for what I want with Kayde.

That’s good to hear. Where are you from?

He’s doing exactly what I would—fact checking. He would have asked Dhevan the same question. Two cities called Neech and Dhan.

Which do you call home? He cocks his head and rests his chin on his hands.

I hesitate only a second and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Matthias’ eyebrow raises in question. It’s not a straightforward answer, I say. I’ve lived in Dhan for most of my life, but recently I’ve called Neech home. Home. Did I really think of Neech as that? It sounds right, but it doesn’t feel like the comfortable second skin it should.

What did you see on your journey through the Wasteland?

I raise my hands a bit and blow air out through my lips. Desert. And rocks. Dead trees. I shake my head. We came across an abandoned town from Before and scavenged for anything that might’ve been available. We found some canned peaches, but that was it. Oh, a big wild dog attacked us and we escaped.

He doesn’t seem surprised. Common knowledge, or did Dhevan already tell him? Probably both. Wolves out in the Wasteland can be as big as a man, if not bigger. Ferocious beyond measure. How did you escape? His facial expressions gave away a subtle level of being impressed.

When your life and the lives of those you’re with are in danger, you find a reserve of strength and courage you didn’t know you had. And I had a knife.

Matthias nods. Dhevan said you saved his life?

I’m surprised he admitted to that. I try to keep the scoff away. But he also saved mine, so we’re square.

It doesn’t sound like you’re too fond of each other. He’s not surprised when he says this, either.

I clear my throat. Because we’re not.

Why?

You’d have to ask him, I say with a shrug.

But you’re working together. Matthias is trying to understand.

It’s an interesting dynamic, I agree. We have a common goal. Enemies can often come together for that.

Matthias unfolds his hands and sits back in his chair. Tell me what happened after the settlement.

I think back to everything we’ve been through. Raj—our other traveling companion—led us into what he thought would be a trap. He took us to a Military Dome and turned us over to the Guards. They restrained all of us but were on our side and let us go. That’s when some of your people picked us up. They took us to Mae and Ansel’s homestead, after that. Then Kavin came and got us.

What happened to Raj?

I shrug. No clue. We left him behind. I assume they executed him under the Corporation’s orders. They don’t like loose ends.

He was working with them? That Matthias sounds surprised about.

I nod.

To what degree?

I shrug. Your guess is as good as mine. Close enough that they made him promises he wanted kept.

What promises has the Corporation made you? Matthias leans forward.

I really hate Dhevan. I clench my jaw for a second. I find it hard to believe you don’t already know the answer to that question.

Matthias remains patient. One of the most important things in Nagar is honesty. I need to hear it from your own lips.

I take a breath. "The President, Akin Hughes, is my father. Or rather, I grew up thinking he was my father. It turns out I was a Sponsor from the Outer City—Neech—taken to satisfy whatever sick and twisted hole he needed filling when his own family left him. I was raised as his son, forgetting who I really was and where I really belonged more and more each day. I only recently escaped the Corporation and found out what had happened to me."

And what of Akin’s true son?

What about him? I sit further back in my chair, dropping my leg from my knee, waiting for Mattias to give me more information.

Matthias narrows his eyes slightly. Do you know where he is?

Believe it or not, Akin never opened up to me about his first son that was no longer in the picture. I tried not to clench my jaw at my irritation.

Does Akin believe them to be alive?

I have no idea. I drop my knees to my elbows and lean forward. We don’t have time to play these vague games, Matthias. If we’re going to be honest, can we speed it up and be a bit more direct?

An appreciative smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. Akin’s wife and son are here.

I lean back and nod. Kayde. I heard.

Kavin told you?

"I think it kind of slipped out when he realized I was also Akin’s son."

What about your loyalties to your father and the Corporation?

"He’s not my father. The statement is sharper than I intend. I’ve had no real loyalties to Akin and especially not to the Corporation. I’ve always hated everything about them and what they stood for."

Is that what led you here, then? Your hatred for the Corporation?

I cross my legs again. Not directly. I’ve been trying to help and motivate the people of Neech to stand against Akin and to fight for change, but they’re scared and too complacent. They demanded proof of something worth fighting for, that they wouldn’t be fighting alone. There wasn’t anything in the Inner or Outer Cities to convince them. The only place left was the Further. I shrug.

He studies me for a few seconds. You don’t think it was reckless to risk your life for something you didn’t even know existed?

I’ve always lived my life that way. I didn’t see a point in changing. Not if it meant making a better life for those I loved back home.

He accepts my answer with a slow nod. What do you know of the Corporation’s plans?

Very little. I know they send Guards out every so often into the Further and that there are Military Domes scattered throughout. But their endgame—I don’t know. My gut tells me it’s nothing good, but I’m sure you already know that.

"What are your plans, now that you’re here, in the Wasteland, in Nagar?"

To find out what my fa—Akin is after and stop it. Bring back what or who we need to take our lives back.

He nods gravely. That’s a hefty list, Ethan. What makes you think you can do it?

I’m going to give it my best and do what I can. I’ve never been one to not try, and I’m certainly stubborn enough to see something through, especially when someone is telling me I can’t.

Matthias chuckles. That’s both a good and bad quality to have. He makes some notes in a notebook on his desk and closes it, looking up at me with a smile. He’s satisfied with our session and I relax. What questions do you have for me?

I drop my ankle from my knee and