Volumes of the Vemreaux Complete Collection: A Dystopian Adventure Trilogy Read online

  “Not yet. I still have to bandage you up,” Nurse Kalista reminded him in her clipped tone. She had yet to take a good look at his injuries. “You’re not my only patient, you know.”

  Supervisor Tum had been in a temper that morning, handing out beatings at the slightest hint of rebellion or ineptitude. Baird and Blue’s younger brother, Griffin, only ten, had messed up twice in the sewing room. One mistake was tolerable, but two was usually cause for a point taken away. When Tum was in a mood, though, one misstep could land you at the whipping post. Baird had volunteered to take his brother’s beating. Griffin was too young, too emotional. Plus, Blue was about to take his place, and Baird wouldn’t have that.

  “I can do that myself. I did last time.” Baird grabbed a roll of gauze from the tray next to the window. His lashings were starting to annoy him. He hated when his jumpsuit stuck to the clotting blood.

  “You’ll do no such thing. Bad enough you kids all decide to cause problems on the same day. Plus, my assistant’s useless. A little patience, Baird.” She shook her head at the Wayward. Most were not on a first-name basis with the nurse, but Baird was no stranger to the whipping post. “Stop wasting my time. Remove your jumpsuit to the waist and lay on your stomach. You know the drill.” She glared at Baird until he complied. Her perpetually bugged eyes were staring at him, blaming him for wasting her time. Just then, the door opened and yet another Wayward was brought in, blood seeping through the back of the orange jumpsuit in stripes. “Ugh, my lucky day. I’ll be back.” She tore open the curtain and moved out to scold the barely upright new arrival for adding to her workload. “Grettel! Get in here and fix this one up. Do you think we have all day, here?”

  Real inconvenient for you, Baird wanted to say. He sat up on the table and glanced over his shoulder, grimacing at the damage on his back. There was one mirror in the entirety of The Way, and it was in the entryway of the Nurse’ station. It was supposed to look decorative, but Baird reasoned it was there so the Waywards could see the damage they’d caused themselves.

  Supervisor Tum had broken off one of the whip’s shards in his back. Baird had wondered why the sting was lasting longer than usual. His eyes flickered to the window, where he checked on his sister again. Good. She’s fine. Still keeping her head down, like she should. Stop worrying.

  An intake of breath from behind him ceased his hand from reaching around and yanking the embedded pottery piece out of his wound. He turned and saw Nurse Kalista’s assistant. The girl’s short, slight frame was made even more petite by her hunched shoulders that looked predisposed to cowering. Her orange jumpsuit hung on her like a bag, and Baird wondered if her meals were being bullied away from her by the bigger Waywards. Baird guessed that she was even shorter than Blue. Something about the skittish dart of her eyes to the partition and back to the floor made him want to speak softer, so as not to further frighten her.

  The rotation of nursing assistants changed every month, and this one was new to Baird. He tried to memorize every barcode in the building, but there were thousands of Waywards. This girl kept her head bowed as much as she could, while still observing the bloody scores.

  Assisting the nurse was a privilege not many were granted. You needed a spotless record and to pass several tests, both textbook and psychological. There were scissors, needles, and chemicals in the nurse’s station. Only the most trusted were permitted the demanding rotation. The girl, not much older than Blue, opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

  Baird was used to girls growing shy around him; he was very handsome. He’d overheard one hormone-laden girl saying to her friend that Baird had “a face to die for, and a butt to kill for.”

  Grettel’s was a different kind of timidity. The girl looked positively afraid of her own shadow, not to mention Baird’s. Grettel’s fingers twisted, and she swallowed three times as she worked her way up to speaking. “It’s okay. I got it.” Baird reached behind him to grab for the foreign object in his back, but the girl shook her head, finally daring to move toward him.

  Wordlessly, she pointed to the table. She was so unimposing with her short brown hair and cocoa-colored eyes; he found his usually obstinate demeanor complying without question. Dainty fingers ghosted over his naked flesh, causing goosebumps to erupt. Every now and then, Blue’s best friend Elle would flirtatiously stroke his arm or back. That was a different reaction from this. The assistant was tender as she touched the wounds, and he found that her sweetness softened him without his consent.

  “Grettel, I swear!” Nurse Kalista steamed, barging through the curtain that separated Baird from the numerous other patients. “I told you, I needed the antiseptic at station three refilled! I have patients piling up, here, and I can’t keep repeating myself.” Nurse Kalista grabbed at Grettel’s collar and shoved the petite girl toward the curtain.

  Grettel nodded meekly and darted out of the area, reappearing a moment later with a large bottle of clear liquid. She handed it to the nurse with shaking hands, and then returned to Baird’s bedside.

  “Where was this?” Nurse Kalista asked, flipping her shiny black hair over her shoulder.

  “S-station three, ma’am.”

  Without warning, the nurse pulled back her hand and slapped Grettel across the face. The girl staggered back, tears springing to her eyes. “It was not! I looked, and it wasn’t there. Now, get on the ball!” She slapped Grettel again. Baird’s jaw tightened at the nurse’s abuse of Grettel. It was clear she often used the Wayward girl as a means of relieving the stress of her job. “Clean him up,” Nurse Kalista ordered before leaving for another patient in a huff.

  Every bit the model Wayward, Grettel obeyed, keeping her tears silent as she turned to face the intimidating older boy nearly every Wayward revered or feared. She motioned for him to lay back down with a trembling finger, and Baird obeyed. She cried through the entire ordeal of pulling out the broken piece of pottery and three other fragments that splintered off and had to be removed with tweezers.

  Baird scarcely noticed the pain of the metal gouging into his torn flesh.

  Nurse Kalista barged back in, her unwrinkled thirty-something face pinched with frustration. “Where are the – oh, you have them. Of course. Of course you would use the tweezers and not put them back. You know how tightly we have to keep an eye on our supplies with all these delinquents in and out today. What are you thinking?” She yanked the tweezers from Grettel’s shaking hand and slapped the girl across the face for the third time in less than ten minutes. “Idiot!” She wound up for another strike, but Baird would have no more.

  His plan to distance himself from everyone, save for his family and Elle crumbled as he twisted off the table and planted himself between the nurse and Grettel. He was sixteen, and well-built for his age. Naked chested and strong arms bared, he stared the nurse down with a sneer he reserved only for his enemies. “Hit me,” he dared her.

  Nurse Kalista tried to return his glare, but her trepidation was palpable as she took a step back from him. “Baird, you lay down on that table right now!”

  His eyes widened, and he knew he was bordering on psychotic as he kept his voice low and steady. “You mad about something? Hit me.”

  “Stop it!” Nurse Kalista scolded.

  Grettel whimpered and clung to the wall. Baird moved in front of the girl, acting as her shield. Though he did not know her, he knew that he could not leave Grettel to fend for herself. The marks of abuse were evident, and Baird hoped Grettel had not been scarred for life by the nurse. It took thick skin to make it through the daily tasks of The Way, and he feared what any more toughening of this tender girl would do to her. Not many things softened him, but when they did, Baird clung to the lifeline with ferocity.

  “Hit me, Vemreaux. You seem to like beating on little girls. Try me on.” He cracked his knuckles ominously. “I think I might like it. Hit me.”

  “Young man, you’ll sit down right now and…”

  “Hit me!” he shouted in her face, towering over
her.

  Nurse Kalista stumbled back a few steps, tripping over her own foot and dropping her clipboard. She snatched her patient files back up off the ground, embarrassed at being intimidated by a mere Wayward. “Grettel, you clean him up and get him out!”

  Once she’d left, Baird turned and lay back on the table, making sure not to look at Grettel or her overflowing tears.

  It took an entire minute before Grettel approached him. This time when she touched his skin, it was with the air of blessing his wounds with her gratitude. “Why?” she whispered. “Why’d you do that?”

  Baird shrugged. “She pissed me off. Besides, you didn’t look like you were up for the task of putting her in her place.”

  “In her place? But she’s Vemreaux. We’re beneath her.”

  Baird reached out and gripped Grettel’s wrist, reminding himself to be gentle. “No. No, we’re not. You’re not.” He met her watery eyes, and for the first time, was not repelled by the show of tears. “She hit you often?”

  Grettel nodded, sniffing back as much emotion as she could, so that she could further attend to Baird’s back. “It’s okay. She doesn’t leave marks. Not like these.” She pointed to Baird’s bloody back. “Now, this is going to sting, so get ready.” She squirted a healthy stream of antiseptic onto the wounds, making sure to cover every raw bit. Her dainty fingers rested on his bicep in a gesture of comfort.

  Baird had never been babied. Everyone assumed that he did not need consoling, so they never bothered. He loathed the release of tension that came from Grettel’s kindness, and tensed his fist to stave of any further softening on his part.

  “Did that hurt too badly? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. She shouldn’t be hitting you, Grettel.”

  “It’s okay.” Grettel ducked her head toward his to ensure no one overheard. “Thank you, though. I’ll probably get worse from her later for it, but thank you for doing that. You don’t even know me.”

  “You don’t know me, and you’re helping me out.” Baird refused to look at her, not wanting to own up to his kind words. “Only fair I return the favor.”

  At this, Grettel managed a small smile through her sniffling. “Everyone knows you.”

  “No one knows me,” Baird countered, cursing his blatant melancholy.

  Grettel placed her delicate hand on his shoulder and rubbed a light circle on the flesh. “That’s a shame. You seem…worth knowing. Worthwhile.”

  Baird did not know what to say to this, so he settled for patting her hand. “Thanks.”

  Grettel kept her mousy voice low and bent in, so there would be no chance at being overheard. “Maybe I don’t know you, but I’ve seen you.”

  Baird stiffened and stopped breathing simultaneously. “You’ve seen me do what?”

  He could hear the gentle smile in Grettel’s response. “You watch your sister. Protect her. No one bothers her because they’re afraid of you. I’ve seen you finish your brother’s workload, too. He’s young, and they sometimes give the children more than they can handle. You always step in and make sure he’s taken care of.” She glanced down at his torn back. “How many of these beatings did you actually earn, and how many were Griffin’s?”

  “Do you know Griffin or something?” Baird was surprised anyone watched him that closely.

  “No. But don’t worry. I know it’s supposed to be a secret that you’re nice. I can keep my mouth shut.” Grettel pointed to the gash she’d dug the pottery from. “I think you might need stitches here. I don’t do those, though. Let me call the nurse back in.”

  Baird wasn’t sure what to make of the observant girl. “No, thanks. I’ll take my chances. It’ll heal. It always does.”

  “At least let me bandage it up.” Her petite fingers made quick work of concealing the abrasions. She gathered up the gauze and bloody scraps to throw them in the trash.

  “Wait. I’ll take those.” Baird sat up.

  “The garbage?” Grettel wrinkled her nose in confusion. “But it’s unsanitary.”

  “It’s my blood. I earned every bit of that whip, so I should get to keep my blood. It’s mine. They don’t need it for anything.”

  Grettel’s fearful eyes darted to the curtain. “But that’s against the rules. Nurse Kalista would be mad.”

  “Nurse Kalista won’t find out. I’ll burn it all in the furnace later.”

  It was a test, as everything was with the people he trusted most. Baird needed to know if he’d earned Grettel’s allegiance.

  Hesitantly, Grettel handed the sodden mess over to the large man, who tucked the contraband in his armpit. She surprised Baird by resting her petite hand on his arm to stay his exit. “Please don’t get caught. And let me get you a fresh uniform. That one’s ruined.”

  “Nah. I like it. Sends a message to the Supervisors.”

  “Oh. Um, well, just be careful with those bandages. Nurse Kalista…she’s a lot worse when I’ve actually done something to make her mad.”

  Just like that, Grettel passed the test. Baird glanced out the window to his sister, who was still hard at work in the yard. He knew Blue wouldn’t be opposed to adding the meek girl to their exclusive group. Baird mentally shifted his worldview to include Grettel, tucked securely under his wing of protection.

  Baird stood, buttoning up his bloodied jumpsuit as he gave an evil grin to the girl. “I wouldn’t worry about Nurse Kalista, Grettel. She won’t be bothering you much longer.”

  2

  The Blackout

  Two Years Later

  Blue’s arms were not tired as she hauled the fifteenth load of housing bricks to the refinery, but she was bored. Tasks that had once been exciting with their newness had grown mundane through the years she spent with her brother in The Way. Baird let her switch up jobs occasionally. She’d worked in the yard mucking scratch, in the kitchen, pressing paper, sewing clothes, laundry, in-house maintenance and even S-brick production. Finally, she’d convinced him that she should work with the housing bricks. Well, it wasn’t so much her as it was her best friend Elle who did the convincing. Elle was a year older than Blue, and even the stoic Baird was not immune to her blonde hair and beguiling emerald eyes. They’d used the angle of hauling housing bricks as inconspicuous weight training. It also helped that the furnace shed they were fired in was a kilometer away from the yard workers, so she would have more opportunities to train without fear of being seen. He reluctantly agreed. The preparation he’d had her doing of sewing clothes with her eyes shut had reached its maximum level of effectiveness.

  When Baird finally conceded, Blue was so happy not to have to sit still for hours on end anymore that she almost jumped up and hugged him. Almost. Hugging was not something Baird suffered, so she settled for a grateful shove, which he returned with a smile. The condition was that either he or Elle had to work the shift with her. After much pretense of debate, Blue decided she’d like to spend her days with Elle, who knew her secret and promised Baird that she’d keep an eye on his sister.

  After a month hauling housing bricks, it proved to be like every other job. The repetition of the task was taxing, not the work itself. When she and Elle were alone, stacking bricks in the sweltering furnace room, Elle got a much needed break while Blue moved both their loads from the trolleys. The Vemreaux Supervisors never bothered them much; the room was too hot for their liking.

  “So, you think Baird noticed?” Elle asked, looking down approvingly at her chest.

  “Normally, I’d say that Baird notices everything, so of course he’d see that you went up a bra size. But since you happen to be the one area he’s clueless about...” Blue nodded as Elle placed the fortieth brick in Blue’s outstretched arms. Each brick weighed two kilograms. This was not a challenging amount for Blue to carry, but she had to do it while having a conversation and being careful not to drop any. Baird instructed them that if her voice wavered at all while lifting, that would count as showing weakness, and she would fail his lesson for the day.

  “I know,
right? He can obsess about the correct form for your inverted one-handed pushups, but can’t see what’s right in front of his face.”

  “That’s the brilliance of Baird for you. I saw Larry giving you the glad eye at breakfast.”

  Elle grinned and winked. “I coulda sworn he was looking at you, girlfriend.”

  Blue rolled her eyes. Although it was true that at sixteen, her body was changing, and no amount of strategically smeared scratch could hide that, it was laughable to think that any guy would give her a second look when they had Elle to ogle. “You’re sweet, but wrong. And if you want to be with Baird, then you’ve got to make the first move. And the second. And probably the third. And you’ve got to be more obvious.”

  Elle flipped her hair over her shoulder and huffed. “How many more times can I do the lean and laugh?” She demonstrated by unbuttoning the top snap of her orange jumpsuit, leaning forward so her ample bosom pressed into her folded arms and let loose her best tinkling giggle.

  Blue quirked her eyebrow at her best friend. “You may have to revise your takedown.”

  “Ugh. Everything is a fighting term with you two. Not sexy.”

  Blue shrugged at the nature of the beast. Sweat was sliding down her forehead, not from the work, but from the furnace. Their job was to move the dried and pressed housing bricks from the workshop to the refinery, and then another Wayward, usually Marxus or Grent, fired the bricks to ensure their purity and durability. Then the girls moved them to the storage shed on the east end of The Way’s vast property.

  Today, however, Marxus was in the infirmary with a bloody fist and sprained wrist. Marxus was Baird’s right hand, and the two worked the yard together. When Baird permitted Blue to sign up for a position moving housing bricks, it was no surprise that it came with strings. Elle knew her secret, but it was apparently not enough for her to watch Blue and help her train. Marxus had to be there, as well. Marxus and Baird unofficially ran the yard, which, until they’d established themselves as Alpha dogs, was where most of the fights broke out. Both men would turn nineteen at the end of the month, and even though there were plenty of older Waywards out there, Baird’s rule was absolute. Any fights would have to go through him, and he liked a quiet work atmosphere.