Unity by Jeremy Robinson Page B

just had a great idea. She performs the most sarcastic impression of an adult I’ve ever witnessed, all intercut with her own cutting remarks. “Oh, I know, let’s put the worst of them— that’s you —with the best of them— Hutch —and see if he can’t elevate her. She’s not good at much besides unrestrained violence… Yeah, we hacked your records, boo hoo for you . So let’s make her a Point.” The impression ends there. “But the problem with that is that as a Point, your actions and decisions affect everyone else who is trained to follow your lead. They might as well have put that insignia on a gorilla’s hand, since that’s clearly who raised you.”
    My fists clench, tightening with each beat of my heart. My arms churn with energy looking for a release. I’ve done it before. Let the power explode from my chest, flow down my arm, to my fist. Step into it. Put my soul into it. I see her on the ground, knocked out cold. It would take just one punch to knock her mouth shut, probably for months if her small jaw broke.
    I resist for the simple fact that she’s recently woken up after being unconscious for a day. A punch like the one I can deliver could kill her. That and the fact that she’s berating me out of grief for a lost brother, who I did, in fact, treat like garbage. Had I understood Supports then, the way I do now...
    Then I see something else in the ferocity of her glare.
    Intent.
    Her emotions are real, but she’s pushing me on purpose. Challenging me to do what? Strike her? Kill her?
    No , I decide, those are the things she’s hoping I won’t do. But not because getting knocked out would hurt. She’s hoping I’ll rise above the action. Show them that Hutch wasn’t assigned to the dregs of the program, that his death could be redeemed—by me.
    Fighting my nature, which she has succinctly pointed out is violent, I rise to the challenge.
    She continues to vent. And push. But I calm myself. Lower my heart rate. My fingers open up and my hands rise to my hips. Classic Wonder Woman pose. Boosting confidence.
    She pauses her verbal and physical assault.
    “Are you done?” I ask her.
    She blinks. It’s not exactly an expression of shock, but I’ve caught her off guard.
    “Because if you really want to honor your brother’s death, you will shut your loud mouth , and fall in line.” Geez, I sound like an adult. But it works. Her lips clamp shut, though I’m not sure if it’s because I told her to or that she’s just remembered we have a very good reason to be stealthy. “I didn’t know your brother well, and that is my fault, but from what little I did know of him, he’d want us to work together, to survive, and to find your friends, his and mine.”
    True to form, she doesn’t apologize for what she’s said or for endangering us by yelling. In her mind, it was all justified, and maybe it was. At the very least, I can’t blame her for it. She did just lose her brother, and through her words and actions, she’s forced me to step headlong into the role assigned to me by Unity. She steps back, motions to the path, and says, “After you, Point.”

12
     
    We spend the night under the stars, doing our best to sleep, but it’s not easy. Every time I close my eyes, I see the crash. I think of the kids who didn’t make it. The people on the other transports. So I spend most of the night staring at the stars, trying to imagine what life far away from this planet would be like. I nod off close to dawn, and then wake up with the sun. We need to move.
    Five minutes into the new day’s hike, my legs are reminding me that I should have spent the night in an infirmary eating fistfuls of pain medication. But I’m sure the others are hurting, too. Mandi must be. But none of them are complaining, so I push past it. The winding trail moves steadily upward. Most of the time, it winds around trees, following the steady grade, but occasionally, we hit a series of switchbacks. They zigzag their