Banished Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Banished

  Contents

  Thank you

  Monster

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Forty

  From the Author

  Banished

  A Novel

  By

  L.M.Feldt

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Forty

  Thank You

  Thank you to my mother, Annette, without whom there would be monstrous mistakes and punctuation used as an art form. Her kind words and acute observations went a long way into making this story a better one and I really could not have done it without her.

  Any grammatical missteps are my own having been an inattentive student at pivotal times in my youth. Any references to real persons (Living, dean or undead) or situations are strictly in the readers imagination and in no way reflect reality.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S.Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is prohibited.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Copyrighted August 07, 2016

  Registration Number TXu 2-013-475

  Book cover designed by L.M.Felt using Canva, images from Shutterstock and hand drawings.

  Monster

  Survival in doubt

  My lineage to blame

  I strive for more.

  Not to personify the

  Monster that others see

  But to become

  My own creature

  Fierce, me.

  By unknown author, circa 2265

  One

  I stare at my reflection, noting how the anger simmers just below the mask of my indifference. I grimace and try to dampen down. I will need to add extra whorls today, a distraction I hope. When the minders get a look at my face this morning I want them to see arrogance and disdain in my embellished tattoo… not the expression of someone fighting for control. My sixteenth birthday isn’t here yet, I reminded myself. Today is not my day to die.

  I stab the metal tip of the ink scribe into the small black glass bottle. The red ink is the most expensive as it comes from the roots of the rubia plant, known for it’s finicky growing needs. It had cost me nearly two weeks worth of lunch credits, but it is well worth it. The deep crimson color stands out against my dusky skin like fresh blood. I tap the edge of the bottle to remove excess ink and proceed to add extra whorls to my tat, pulling the design up past my eyebrow and nearly into the hairline. I watch, always fascinated, as the metal tip of the ink stylus gently scours my flesh, drawing tiny beads of blood that mix smoothly with the color of the ink. I am one of the few that don’t try to hide the stamp of shame society has placed on us. Much to the discomfort of the teachers and minders, I flaunt the mark, make it my own.

  The tattoo on my face is mandatory. By law, all twists are tattooed on the day of their sixth birthday, their specific genetic aberration having manifested by then. Parents, upon the discovery that their precious bundle of joy is instead a monster, contact their local Reform Center. They watch, clutching at each other in shock at their misfortune as their offspring are dragged away. I was fortunate to have been tagged as a newborn babe, I will never be hampered by the desire to confront my family for their casual abandonment. The tattoo is a permanent mark to separate those of us with twisted DNA from normal society… should any of us manage to escape the compound. A ridiculous notion to the point of absurdity. Security here is far too tight for anyone, twist or otherwise, to escape. It is a clear sign of just how much ‘normal’ society fears anything different, how much they fear us.

  Most of my fellow discards try to downplay the tat. Long hair, headbands, crazy hats and hooded cloaks are just some of the ways twists try to hide their true natures. Not me. I have learned early the hard lesson of reality. I will never be allowed to enter what passes for ‘normal’ society. I know it. My friends and fellow twists know it too, though they all pretend I have just as much chance as anyone to matriculate. And on my sixteenth birthday, all the world will see me for the monster I am.

  “Keira! Aito’s in the slammer!” A harsh whisper through the door. I start, stabbing myself in the process.

  “Dammit!” I hate interruptions and now a bright red spot grows right in the center of an otherwise perfect swirl. “When.” I whisper back as I blot the growing dot.

  “Late last night. I heard it’s bad this time.”

  “Shit.” I mutter to myself.

  Having delivered the news, Naoaki is long gone, slinking off to another job. No matter. She’d done as I’d asked and would continue to do so as long as our training sessions lasted. I intend to draw them out as long as possible. It is quite handy having someone in my pocket who can come and go unseen. Naoaki had sought me out once after loosing a fight, she’d relied too heavily on her twist and once visible, she is vulnerable. Warrior code number seven: always have a backup plan.

  I stare at my reflection, wild black hair only barely tamed with strategic braids, a black and red tattoo that starts just below my left eye and builds up and out like a storm cloud. Last but not least, the telltale orange eyes, slitted like a cats, burning accusation at an unfair and violent world. I place the ink pen back in the red bottle, the shaking of my hand the only outward sign that I am rattled. I need to watch that. Showing weakness is not an option, not in this place, not so close to my sixteenth Birthday, my Trial.

  I dress quickly, the two knives I am allowed strapped in plain view, the ten I am not, hidden by custom sheaths thoughtfully designed by the very person currently in trouble. Aito, a huge pain in the ass and my best friend. I shrug into my padded long cloak to hide the knives strapped to my back and head out.

  I hurry through back passages, bypassing the kitchens entirely. Though my stomach grumbles, most of the inhabitants of Kei
musho Red Compound will be there now and I will be less likely to run into anyone as long as I stay well clear. There are two temperance sections, one near the training grounds and one below, closer to where Aito suspects the unsanctioned labs might be. I hesitate. Which one? Why hadn’t Naoaki said? I pause briefly in my headlong rush to think for a moment. Maybe she had said.

  The lower section is the worst, only repeat offenders and those who have committed serious infractions are sent there… for re-education.

  I alter my direction and head down.

  Shivering, I pull my long cloak closer. My memories of this place, triggered by the damp walls of thick, solid stone, urge me to move faster. I had been here. Once. Together, I and the minders learned about at least one of my twists, or genetic deformities as they refer to them. It had not been a pleasant experience for any of us. In the end, we’d come to a sort of understanding; I try to stay out of serious trouble and they give me a wide birth. It is a thin line I walk, a tightrope between the freedom to do as I please and the house of cards falling on my head if I push it too far and they are forced to contend with me for real.

  A soft cry.

  I know that voice. My anger, simmering quietly until now, surges and I suspect that the moment of my unmasking is quickly approaching. Sweat beads on my forehead. My breath quickens. It is coming on faster this time and I don’t even have a target in view. I wonder, as I run, if that is a good thing. I wonder if I will be able to rein it in this time….control it….

  I round the corner at a dead run, using the wall itself to correct my trajectory. My soft soled leather boots quietly slap the wall and I push off again, chucking my great cloak in the process. My senses have peaked and I know he is being held in control room six, the farthest away. Suddenly, a shriek cuts the air and I nearly scream with him, panting with effort as I try to remain quiet and keep the element of surprise. I am almost there. I round the last corner and am nearly brought up short by the horror of the scene. My angel is strapped down to a metal table. Tubes and needles sprout from his delicate birdcage of a chest like worms feasting on a corpse. He has red shock marks down his side and I spot a skull saw….

  I scream.

  An animalistic sound that tears through my throat, full of pain and rage. I do not know what the minders in that room see as I approach. I can only describe the feeling of my twist taking over, triggered by the rush of adrenaline. There is a suspended moment, a pause in time, before I shift. A held breath….and then….a tearing. It is as though my very flesh is ripping apart and re-arranging itself. I am lanced with a thousand shards of glass and the very air seems to shimmer with their reflective hues of orange and red. And yet, despite the pain, there is a euphoric high unlike anything I can describe. I don’t run, I fly. I have no body. I am immense. The knives pressed to my back are a comfort and I relish the cool balm of their cold steel as I sail toward the room and my targets.

  I remember little of what happens next. A blur of red shaded images flow through my mind when I try to think of this moment and they make little sense. I know I got Aito, my angel, out of that place. I know at least two people are dead….and I know I killed them.

  Two

  A loud drumming finally wakes me. It nearly matches the pounding in my head and gives me one more reason to throttle the next thing that makes a sound.

  “Psst. Keira. Wake up.”

  “Keira?”

  “If you don’t leave me be there won’t be enough of you left to knit a sock.” I hiss back, wincing as the sound of my own voice pierces my skull.

  “Drink this. It will fix you. I am sure of it.”

  The voice doesn’t sound sure. I roll onto my side anyway. I will do anything to get rid of this pounding in my skull. I feel oddly squishy too, like I am made of wet noodles all mushed up together. I am muddled, disconnected and not at all sure my hand-bone is connected to my arm-bone but I reach for the glass of black liquid anyway. I shake like a newborn, muscles spasming, and the liquid sloshes. My vision is blurred and hands seem to appear from out of thin air to help me drink.

  I retch at the vile taste and the consistency makes me think strongly of raw egg mixed with chunks of fat.

  “Drink it damn you!”

  Is Aito yelling at me? That can’t be right. I want to keep him happy….so I drink it down, gagging as I do. The empty glass drops from my hand and makes a far away tinkling sound as it shatters. I roll back and close my eyes. So much noise. Everything hurts and I am exhausted.

  “Is it working?”

  “How should I know? I stole an untested substance. I have only suspicions of it’s curative properties.”

  “Stop talking gibberish. Will it fix her or not?”

  “Shut up!” The inane whispering is making me crazy! Also, a strange tingling is racing through my body.

  For a while it is wonderfully quiet. I would smile if I had the energy. Then….

  “Well?”

  Quieter but I can still hear them. Their whisperings are like a rough sandpaper against my senses and now a million ants are biting my back.

  “It worked on us didn’t it? Granted, you were only shot and I had a few holes that needed filling but still….”

  “Only shot!”

  “Shhh.”

  “You shush. Because of you we have major issues. Because of you I nearly died!”

  “Well, I am sorry about that but it was the only way.”

  That’s it! My patience is gone and I leap off the cot, swaying slightly.

  “Did I or did I not say to shut up?!”

  Two pairs of bright eyes goggle at me. I cock my head to the side and stare back. Huh. I raise my hands and feel my head, prodding the scalp gently. It is all in one piece. Finally! The drumming sound is still there but now it is outside my skull. Ah, it’s raining. My hands roam down my body, exploring. Everything seemed to be where it should. I no longer feel disconnected or squishy. My back still itches but the agony of a million tiny bites is fading even as I think about it.

  “What the hell happened?” I am very confused.

  My question is met with silence.

  “Right. Now you shut up.”

  Aito and Naoaki stand before me, both with odd looks of wonder and maybe a touch of fear on their faces.

  “What?” What is going on? I look around Aito’s tiny lab for clues. He’d pieced this hidden lab together over the course of two years, stealing and swapping favors for parts He is always making something. Or taking something apart. I understand exactly none of it but I support him because that is what friends do. Also, it is another way to thumb my nose at the minders and others in charge. I shift my gaze back to the two in front of me.

  Still not a peep.

  “I hope you two have come up with an explanation.” I sit back down on the narrow cot and wait.

  It takes almost an hour for them to get me up to speed. It might have taken less if they hadn’t kept interrupting each other. When did they become friends? I push down my petty jealousy and listen to a story of utter disaster.

  “So in a nutshell, Aito was caught stealing some disgusting drink from a lab that’s illegal and isn’t supposed to exist, I save him (I skirt around the how bit) but the potion gets left behind. Then Naoaki goes to fetch it from wherever Aito had stashed it and gets shot in the process… and to top it off… the three of us are considered Failed and are scheduled to be Banished without Trial as soon as they can figure out where we are. Did I miss anything?”

  Large unblinking eyes meet my recap. I look at Aito. Blond curls, blue eyes, bemused smile….why can’t I stay mad at him? I sigh. For most, Banishment is the very worst thing that can happen to you. Locked outside the city walls and left to fend for yourself in a world where the DNA of nature has been twisted in the Wars so badly no one even knows what lives out there now. Certainly, no one has ever made it back to enlighten the rest of us. The Trials determine the extent of one’s twist or DNA deformity. I would never pass because of my orange eyes but I would
be forced into the Trials anyway, so the minders could push me into exposing whatever other twists I might not even know about, a kind of trial by fire. It is cruel and violent. Those with more extreme twists are often pushed to the brink of death, then Failed and cast out, Banished when they are too hurt to defend themselves from whatever lurks outside. With us listed as Failed it means no Trials. It means we might have a chance.

  “I have a plan but you are not going to like it.” Aito grins and I immediately mistrust the twinkle in his eye.

  “Also, we have to take Fish.” Pipes up Naoaki.

  “Who the heck is Fish?” I have often thought of myself as the leader type. I am tall and fighting fit. I am a thousand times more dangerous than these two (again, I shy away from thinking too hard on that). I have always assumed that the stronger led…. Yet the more time I spend around Aito and now Naoaki, the more I am coming to realize that I am just the muscle.

  “Fish is my little cousin. I am bound to take care of him.” Naoaki stands defiant, arms crossed, decision made. I try hard not to roll my eyes. I get it. I understand loyalty.