Dedicated to MissBannanaBomb, who made the awesome banner on the side over there ;).

Chapter Seventeen

Delaney

Oh my god. I would recognize the dark hair, light brown skin, and hipster outfit anywhere. My hand flew to my mouth as I realized who the woman sitting across the room was.

"What is she doing here?" I breathed. I tried to keep my voice as quiet as possible. Trai just blinked, his face reflecting the disbelief that I felt.

For a moment, Trai was silent. Then, suddenly, he grinned impishly. "Let's find out." And he walked away, making a beeline toward the woman across the room. Try not to tread on anyone's feet, I scampered after him, my smallness finally proving to be an advantage. Thanks to my lack of height, I managed to make it before Trai. Uncertainty made me still for a split second, but I forced myself to speak.

"Ms. Shea," I whispered, tapping my art teacher on the shoulder just as Trai scooted up beside me. She turned around slowly, her narrowed eyes widening in recognition. She jumped to her feet. I sucked in a quick breath; suddenly, everything felt surreal. It wasn't too outlandish to be seeing my opinionated, hippie teacher at an underground meeting like this, but at the same time, it was wrong. She was an adult, someone in a position of authority, someone who should have been against things like this. All of the people here should have been like that.

Let's just say, that's when I really began to get an inkling of what we were getting ourselves into. At that point, my world began to, slowly but surely, flip upside down.

"Delaney, Trai; why the hell are you here?" Ms. Shea demanded in a hushed tone as she ushered us to the back of the room, breaking me from my reverie. I'd never heard her use a curse word, even one so small, and it shocked my response out of my mouth.

"We're here for the—to—" Even Trai couldn't find words to answer her.

"This is no place for kids," she hissed. "You need to leave. Now."

"Why?" I demanded, my curiosity flaring as I suddenly found my voice. "We're not doing anything wrong."

"Just trust me, Delaney. You need to leave, right this instant, before something happens that you can't fix."

I frowned suspiciously. "Just what do you think is going to happen to us?" My voice was a little too loud, and several people around flashed me disgusted looks.

"Keep your voice down," Ms. Shea ordered frantically. She sighed. "Look, I don't know what brought you two here. But believe me when I say that neither of you have any idea what you're getting yourselves into. What goes on here does not concern you, should not concern you. This isn't a place for two fifteen-year-old kids. Please, just leave."

I stared at her, unblinking, but she didn't falter.

She asked, "Have you ever heard the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'?" Suddenly, I had goosebumps.

"We're not leaving," Trai stated adamantly, but I heard some hesitance in his voice.

Ms. Shea's eyes hardened. "In that case, I'll have to inform security."

Brain whirring furiously, I took a step back. "Okay, we'll leave," I relented, raising my hands in front of me. She nodded.

"Good." As the word escaped her lips, I saw her eyes dart around for a millisecond before returning to mine. "Go now, before you're seen. Hurry."

I grabbed a protesting Trai by the arm and dragged him away from Ms. Shea as quickly as I could, pinching his skin to keep him quiet. When I was certain that we were no longer visible to her through the mass of people, I stopped.

"What was that for?" he grumbled, rubbing at the two nail marks in his wrist.

"We're not leaving," I told him, "but we can't afford to let her screw this up for us. So just shut up and—"

A pointed cough interrupted my thoughts. On the stage, which had been empty moments before, a man now stood. He had sandy-colored hair and piercing blue orbs shadowed by thick eyebrows. His face was all dark planes and sharp angles, with a strong, hard jawline and a straight, long nose. The suit and dress shoes he was wearing struck me as out of place in this neighborhood, among this ragtag group of adults.

With a stern expression, his eyes ran over the crowd, over which a hush had fallen.

"Good evening," he said in a deep baritone. "Before we get started tonight, I'd like to remind you all of our 'no talking' rule, since it seems to have been momentarily forgotten."

I was almost certain he looked straight at me, sending a shiver down my spine, but he looked away before I could be sure.

"For those of you whose acquaintances I have not yet had the pleasure of making," the man continued, "allow me to introduce myself. I am Jeremy Fairleigh, the head of the Pro-Inferiors.

"As you all know, we take utmost care to keep the location of our meetings secure; however, additional precautions must be taken in order to ensure your safety. There are several volunteers who are passing around said precautions as we speak. Though we hope use of these will not be necessary during this meeting, we ask that you please bear with us if the situation presents itself."

Just as I was wondering who the "we" he was speaking of referred to, something hard and cold was pressed into my hand. I didn't manage to glimpse the person who gave it to me, but upon examination, I realized that I was holding some kind of mask. It was hardly anything special; just a small burlap bag with two small holes, presumably for eyes, and a larger one for the mouth.

Trai and I exchanged a confused look.

"Now, without further ado," Jeremy said, his tone deceptively light, "this meeting shall commence.

"I'd like to begin by giving you all a quick background on the Superiors, for any new additions to the Pro-Inferior family." The second he said those words, my previously befuddled brain kicked into action. I whipped out my phone, quickly scrolling to the voice-recording app and starting a fresh tape. Its microphone had a range of up to twenty feet and could pick up sounds even when muffled by material, so I shoved it into my pocket to free my hands.

"The Superiors were created over fifty years ago in a government lab. Two scientists, Radley Farrows and David Leary, were the brains behind the project. They conducted the experiment on several human embryos, some male and some female, though all of them except for one died before the project could be completed. Using a growth quickening virus, the two managed to construct a fully-matured human whose enhanced genes were, in every way, superior.

"However, merely a few days after...conception, if you will, the fully grown 'human' escaped with aid from Leary. Unbeknownst to Farrows, Leary had poisoned the embryo's brain with ideas and memories of ruthless dictators of the past.

"Seeing as children are very impressionable, these ideas were fully imprinted in the embryo's brain by the time it reached its final stage of development. The mindsets of these dictators were passed on to the Superior. It awoke wanting to overtake the government. To rule. And that was Leary's plan."

I glanced at the people around me, completely mesmerized by what I was hearing. The majority of them merely seemed bored, as if they'd heard it all before. They probably had.

"When it and Leary disappeared from the lab, they killed nearly everyone inside and, understandably, caused much commotion. So much, in fact, that the government officials were too busy panicking to realize that, one by one, in a very obscure manner, all of their best politicians were being picked off. Murdered, to be exact. And when they did realize the situation, it was too late.

"Leary and the Superior did not overtake the government in a single night. But it happened so quickly, so quietly, that no one ever knew what hit them. It was a coup d'état at its finest, because, although so much blood was spilt, not a single soul heard it hit the ground. No one knew about the takeover—publicly, at least. Maybe a few politicians realized what was happened, but they were killed before they could speak. Farrows suffered the same plight. Though he went into hiding for several years, ultimately, he could not escape death."

Fairleigh was silent for a moment, and his eyes swept the crowd as if waiting for a reaction. When there was none, he continued.

"Leary wasted no time before creating more Superiors. He integrated them into the system so gradually that most people didn't even notice the changes. They were too preoccupied with their lives that, even if they did happen to perceive that something was off, they ignored all the signs and continued as usual. Leary covered it up with 'evidence' of the old government's corruption, and when presented with the facts, most people began to wonder why they hadn't noticed all the dishonesty in the first place; it was so obvious now. That is not to say that no one paid attention. There were a few who noticed the discreet alterations and attempted to bring attention to it.

"And that is where our story—the story of the Pro-Inferiors—begins."

With solemn eyes, Jeremy Fairleigh lifted the microphone from its cradle and slowly crossed the stage. The first thing I noticed was the fact that it was an old mic; those things went cordless and Paper-Thin several decades ago. I only knew about them because of my interest in technology—Fairleigh probably hadn't even been born when the old mics were replaced. It struck me as odd, but the feeling quickly disappeared as I took note of something else.

Fairleigh was staring at the crowd in an intense, heavy way. His eyes were magnetic; they drew the people in. But as they slid over me, I felt a jolt of discomfort, and quickly looked down. That's when I noticed something attached to the thumb of Fairleigh's free hand. Pushing up my glasses, I recognized it immediately.

It was a tracker, the kind they put on dog collars nowadays to keep them from getting lost. It gave off a signal to a specified location, allowing the wearer to be tracked from anywhere in the world.

As I wondered about this, Jeremy began to speak again. "I am not sure how you all got here. I'm not sure how you heard of our organization, or why you decided to come. But remember"—he spread his arms to encompass everyone—"we are your friends. We know those doubting thoughts that flutter through your mind when you fall asleep. We understand the suspicion you feel when you see the Superiors on television. We understand all this...and we are here to help.

"Over the past fifty-or-so years, the Superiors have been stealing—ahem, Choosing—children from top schools to be taken to the Capitol. You know this. You all know this. But what they tell you, about the training, about the government positions—all of that is a lie.

"A few decades ago, we made contact with someone inside the Capitol, someone on our side. We asked her to dig deeper into the events of the Choosing, and what happens when our children are taken to the Capitol. And what she found shocked us all."

He let that sink in for a good ten seconds. The lady next to me stifled a yawn.

"The Superiors are, indeed, preparing these children for Superiority," he announced. "But not in the way everyone expects. Have any of you ever noticed that, when children are Chosen, we never see them again?" My stomach churned as I thought of Caleb's brother. Trai's face twisted. "They are taken to the Capitol, yes. They are initiated into the government, yes. And then...and then they are turned into Superiors. Their genes are enhanced, and they are aged by several years. Not only that, but their memories are wiped. They do not remember their families, their friends—anything, except that they were Chosen, and they are Superior."

My hand involuntarily flew to my mouth in surprise as collective gasp circled the room. Based on the bored faces of most of the people around me, I figured they weren't new to this speech, but felt obligated to react.

"Yes," Jeremy said, nodding sadly, "it's terrible. Morbid. Inhumane. But that is why we—the Pro-Inferiors—exist. It is our ultimate goal not only to stop the execution of innocents, but to put the government back where it should be: in the hands of the real humans."

○●○●○●○

"In other news, we have received word from one of our contacts within the Capitol."

He moved on so quickly that my brain didn't have time to switch gears. My mind raced at light speed in an attempt to process all of the new—and shocking—information it had just acquired. Despite having just heard it with my own ears, I had a hard time believing, at first, that any of it was true. On one hand, it made sense, but on the other, it was completely ridiculous.

Trai looked at me, his jaw hanging open in a way that would be comical in any other instance. All the other people were oblivious, carrying on listening as if nothing had happened. As if everything I had ever believed in had not just been completely and totally desecrated. I felt like waving my arms around and yelling at them to have a more heartfelt to reaction to Jeremy's speech, but I was glued to the spot.

"We will be planning another meeting sometime in mid-June to discuss this. This one will be in California, however. There will be details to come, if anyone is willing to make the trip." And speaking of Jeremy, I had no idea what he was talking about that moment. I suddenly felt very, very tired, the weight of knowledge bearing heavily upon my mind. It was a mental lethargy rather than physical, but I still had to fight the urge to curl up in a ball on the ground and let myself succumb to sleep. And Trai's warm, fluffy jacket certainly wasn't helping me as far as staying awake was concerned.

Without really thinking about it, I swayed sideways, collapsing into Trai's shoulder. He didn't shift to accommodate my weight, but he didn't shove me away either, and I was much too tired to care what I was doing. My impromptu sluggishness was so strong that I felt myself beginning to doze off. Standing up, like a freaking horse.

A sudden shout jolted me from that state of bliss that exists between sleep and consciousness. The sound of shrieks and sirens filled my ears. I straightened up instantly, taking a moment to fully make sense of the commotion around me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a breach," Jeremy was saying, strangely calm considering the circumstances. "Please stay calm and listen to me. Each of you should have a mask in your hand—please put it on and follow our guides through the emergency exits." As he spoke, Jeremy was sliding a sack onto his own head. Several guards with large red glow-sticks herded people out some sketchy, unmarked doors.

All around me, people were sliding on the masks and exiting, despite the calamity ensuing around them. Trai was doing the same, clumsily yanking the coarse cloth over his hair. Everyone was moving, but I was standing there frozen, unable to react.

I really don't do well under pressure.

○●○●○●○

Dimly, I realized that people were beginning to rush about around me. On some level, I knew that they were trying to reach the exits, but it didn't register in my brain that I should be doing the same. That is, until Trai started screaming in my ear.

"Delaney, what the hell are you doing?! Come on!" I jerked as if he had just slapped me.

"Huh?" I asked dumbly.

"Come on!" He grabbed my wrist and tore through the people, elbowing some of them so they would move out of the way. I let my feet move by themselves, trusting them not to let me fall. I was being jostled and shoved by dozens of people, which made walking quite difficult. Somehow, though, follow Trai to the door we had entered.

But just as he was placing a hand on the doorknob, the metal sheet flew out of its hinges with a giant crack. It hit us both, sending us flying back into the sea of bodies. Pain lanced through my body. Trai was swallowed up by the omnipresent crowd, and I lost sight of him almost immediately.

I could, however, see the figure standing in the space where the door had been just seconds before. Even in the dim light, I could make out a finely chiseled face and a body that could have belonged to a male model. There were large, dark shades over his eyes, but I immediately knew one thing: I was standing face to face with a Superior.

Those around me realized it as well; many began either yelling out obscenities or whimpering in fear, their faces still covered with the bags. I realized just then that I wasn't wearing one, but didn't have time to do anything about it before the Superior started talking, his perfectly-shaped mouth barely moving.

"Oh shut up, you inferior vermin," he spat. "It's people like you who are the bane of my existence. You idiotic rebels, thinking you have a chance against us." He laughed humorlessly. "You're under arrest. All of you."

There was a second's pause, as if the entire room was holding its breath. I could feel my pulse drumming an erratic beat in my ribcage. Then, as one, everyone swarmed forward, some shouting nonsensical battle cries and others just shrieking their faces off. I barely managed to yank the sack over my head before I was forced to start running. I got caught up in the movement and stumbled, tripping as everyone shoved out the door without me.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor, but my relief at not falling didn't last long. When I looked up, I was met with my reflection in the lens of a pair of dark sunglasses. The Superior held me against his chest, his forearm bracing my neck, while people continued to rush out past us. Several black-clad bodyguards attempted to stop the mass, but it was useless; there were too many Pro-Inferiors to hold them all back.

And in the midst of all this, I was being held hostage, and no one seemed to give a damn. When I tried to struggle, the Superior just tightened his grip, cutting off my oxygen flow. I gasped for air like a dying fish while the man just laughed. My mind was quickly going blank, and it took all I had not to give in.

"Let her go." The voice came from a woman a few feet away. She wore a sack over her head, but I recognized the bright clothing. It was Ms. Shea.

"Or what, anarchist?" snarled the Superior.

"Or I'll make you let her go."

"You and what army?"

Ms. Shea smiled, her teeth a sparkling contrast to the dark burlap sack. "Who said anything about an army?"

Before he could respond, she rushed him, knocking him away from me in one swift shove. I couldn't believe that she had just done that, especially given the Superior's superhuman strength. I was so surprised, in fact, that for a while I just stood there, gaping.

"Run, Delaney!" Ms. Shea shouted, struggling to hold the Superior down. I hesitated. "Run!"

Her eyes, wide in the sack's holes, were desperate. They spurred me on as I stumbled out through a different door and into a dark hallway. No one stopped me, so right before I continued, I looked quickly over my shoulder. I was just in time to see the Superior, back on his feet, holding my teacher by her hair and dragging her away.

I turned back around and stumbled off, but immediately, my toe hit something soft and I pitched forward. My hand landed in something sticky and wet. In the dim light, I realized that the thing on the ground was a body. A human body, with eyes closed. And, with a churning in my stomach, I saw that the liquid on my hand was bright red.

I fought down the urge to scream bloody murder as I leaped to my feet and backed away, very slowly. I wasn't quite sure I'd be able to take another step without passing out. Until I remembered Ms. Shea, and her final words to me. I owed it to her to escape. So I took one last look at the unidentifiable body on the ground.

Then, with my heart and my throat and tears in my eyes, I ran.

○●○●○●○

I emerged through a manhole cover in an alley that seemed far away from Rascal's Diner. I had just run through a series of underground tunnels for who knows how long, convinced the entire time that someone was chasing me. Even as I climbed back onto street level, I half expected someone to grab my leg and pull me back under.

The alleyway was empty. I had no idea where all the people from the meeting had gone, but they'd obviously been smart enough to hightail it out of there. But me? I was in a strange, sketchy city in the middle of the night, alone, with no means of transportation to get home, and, I realized as I glanced at my cellular, absolutely no signal. So, I did what any other girl would do in such a traumatizing situation: I crawled into the corner and curled up in a ball.

And that was how Trai found me later—how later, I don't no. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours. My brain was to numb to have a proper concept of time.

"Delaney, thank god," he muttered, squatting down beside me. "I thought they'd taken you."

"Almost," I managed to say, shuddering as I remembered the cold grip of the Superior's fingers on my neck. The scene played again and again. Ms. Shea shoving him away from me, telling me to run. Ms. Shea being dragged away by her hair

Right on cue, Trai asked, "Did you see Ms. Shea get out alright?"

I gazed at the floor with guilty eyes. "They got her," I murmured.

He blinked slowly, as if hoping when he opened his eyes my answer would be different. "You're kidding, right?"

I swallowed hard. "Would I really kid about something like that?"

"I guess not," he admitted, and an uncomfortably heavy silence settled over us.

"What time is it?" I asked finally, tightening my arms around my legs. My voice sounded meek, but I didn't care.

Trai checked his phone. "Eleven-seventeen."

I started. "I told my parents I'd be home by midnight," I groaned.

"Then we'd better go. Don't worry; I've been driving the car around looking for you, so it's just around the corner."

It took some coaxing, but Trai managed to get me to my feet, although I nearly collapsed once I was standing. He helped me out of the alley, down the sidewalk, and to hiss car. The short walk felt like ten miles. As he opened the passenger door for me, I glanced at my hand. It was still red.

When I saw the blood, I couldn't help it. I turned around and heaved out my stomach onto the dirty street. To his credit, Trai didn't gag, cringe, or walk away. He didn't come to help me either. It was the right thing to do.

After I finished, Trai appeared beside me and handed me a damp handkerchief. I wiped my mouth with it, then used it to scrub the blood off my hand. I tried to hand it back to him, but he shook his head.

"Keep it," Trai insisted, his expression turning slightly sour.

I managed a smile.

At that moment, a sudden buzzing came from my jeans pocked, sending a vibration down my leg. A whipped out my phone and found a message on the screen.

Recording limit exceeded. Please begin a new recording.

I heard a sharp intake of breath, but it took a moment to realize that it was me. Trai was watching me curiously, so I turned to him, holding up my phone. Barely visible behind the semi-transparent message bubble was a faint orange play button.

"I recorded it," I told him slowly. "I recorded everything."