The Freaks

chapter twenty-one

A few days pass and I don't even realize it.

I haven't been hunting since the time Taylor and Nox found the Freak in the block of offices. I've been put on guarding duty for the days passed, watching more and more Soldiers go out and come back hours later. Yesterday, they found no one. Not a single Freak.

But today is different.

My heart sinks to my stomach as I watch two male Soldiers drag a young Freak—who can't be any older than sixteen—into a cell directly in front of where I'm stationed. I keep my face as emotionless as I can as they move around me, pushing the Freak down onto the ground and slamming the cell door behind him, all while ignoring the harsh looks he's giving the two Soldiers. The longer I watch these people treat the Freaks the way they do, the more I want to strangle the life out of them until there's no one left.

"This under eighteen rule completely sucks!" one of the Soldiers say as they both walk down the hallway. "I just want to kill all of them. Get it over and done with."

"Tell me about it," the other one says, a laugh escaping his lips. "But Hartman will have your head if you killed a junior."

"Don't remind me..."

Their voices drift off as they walk away from the hallway. Away from me.

My shift ends too soon and before I know it, I'm trying to force down lunch in the Soldiers' version of a mess hall. They built the place a few years ago from an outbuilding about a quarter of a mile away from the prison. The place is huge. Definitely bigger than the prison.

I swirl the now-warm stew around in the bowl with my spoon, trying and trying to push the sound and the thoughts of the young Freak's face from my mind when Brianna shot him in the head. But every time I close my eyes, I see him looking back at me, the recognition on his face as I spoke inside his mind.

Now the image of his own blood matted in his hair and staining his clothes burns my mind forever.

I could have saved him, if I was quick enough. I could have done something—not just stand there staring at him like he would magically save himself. I could have saved him.

But you didn't. You watched an innocent Freak get shot in the head, Luca, and you didn't do anything.

Diego slides into the seat across from me. "I know who you are," he says, pressing his tray onto the table between us, the sound harsh inside my head.

I keep my face emotionless, continuing to spoon food into my mouth even though my appetite has vanished. "Yeah, Diego, you do. We met each other about a week ago," I reply, raising an eyebrow. If the silence continues between us, I'm sure he'll be able to hear the pounding of my heart against my chest. I nonchalantly take a sip from the glass of water on my own tray, making sure my hand doesn't shake as I peer at him over the rim.

He eyes me carefully for a few more seconds before saying, "That's not what I mean, Jackson." He tilts his head, a lock of his perfectly placed hair brushing into his eye. "You're from Level Two, aren't you?"

My heart slows down and lifts at the same time. I try not to show the relief on my face as I smile once and continue to eat. "How did you know?"

On the Phoenix, the spaceship all of the Soldiers are from, there were different Levels you could live in. The highest one you could be in is Ten. If you're from there, then you had it all. You're the richest out of everyone on the Phoenix. Since Diego thinks Jackson Parker is from Two, it's good for me. It means Jackson wasn't known very well or as rich in the spaceship as the rest of them.