spun around. “That’s enough.”
“Whatever!”
Abby stomped upstairs to her room and slammed the door. She flopped onto her bed, and when she saw JD Kane crouched in the corner, she screamed.
[CHAPTER NINE]
“W HAT ARE YOU DOING , you idiot?” the daughter whispered. She jumped off the bed and propped her hands on her hips. “You can’t be in my room. My dad will call the cops. Do you have a death wish?”
Martyr fell to the soft floor and curled into a ball. His heart thudded in his chest. Certainly he had done something very bad and would be punished. Did daughters give marks?
“What are you …? Get up.” The daughter nudged him in the back.
He would not get up so she could strike him. Martyr knew that trick—it was one of Rolo’s favorites. Besides, he liked this floorwith the soft, warm fibers that cushioned his body. It was safer to stay in a ball and see what she decided to do next.
A moment of silence passed, and he slowly peeked out between his elbows to see her puzzled expression. Her hair practically glowed; the reddish orange color was so vibrant. He had never seen anything so beautiful.
“What are you wearing?” she asked. “And what did you do to your hair?
JD!
Your hair is your best feature.”
Something sang on the daughter, a noisy, metallic rhythm. Martyr scrambled to a sitting position and backed against the wall, afraid of the strange sound. Was it some kind of alarm?
The daughter stood up and removed a small, red device from her pocket. She held it to her ear. “Hello?”
Martyr frowned as he watched her, puzzled by the strange device and her reaction to it.
“Don’t be stupid. Who is this?” Her thin eyebrows sank low over her pea-green eyes. “It is
not
… Because I’m looking at you right now … You
shaved
your head. Is it a wig?” She leaned closer, peering at Martyr’s head. “How are you doing this?”
The daughter reached a hand towards Martyr, but a loud honk outside caused her to jerk her hand back. She went to the wall, peeked through the strips of metal that hung there, and looked out a window. “What in the world?”
She tossed the device onto the bed. “Stay here.” She pointed a finger at Martyr, who pressed back into the corner again. The daughter opened the door and went out, slamming the door behind her.
Maybe I should leave
. This might be his only chance to get away. But it was so warm and colorful inside the daughter’s cell. He was thankful Dr. Goyer had left the door open when he had yelled at his daughter. Martyr rubbed his cold feet, which had finally started to thaw. It was so much warmer inside the facility than out in the icy darkness.
Martyr did not want to go back to Jason Farms. He did not want to expire. He did not want Dr. Kane to take his kidneys. It was selfish to run away—and he hadn’t intended to. If he neverwent back to the Farm, how many people who lived outside would not get an antidote? Would he still expire when he became eighteen? What would happen to Baby?
Martyr crawled to the bed and tapped the red device with one finger. It was hard and smooth and did not make noise for him. He looked around the daughter’s cell. He couldn’t name the color, but almost everything was the same shade, similar to gray but more pleasant. A huge picture hung on the door of a man with frizzy white hair and a thick mustache. Martyr stepped closer to read the words.
E=MC 2
The door burst open, and the daughter closed it quickly behind her. Martyr scurried back to the corner and crouched low. The daughter leaned against the picture of the man for a long moment before turning to look at Martyr. She stepped toward him and squatted down to his level. She was holding something in her arms. A white and hairy animal. A dog?
“Who
are
you?” Her intense eyes trained on his.
Martyr suddenly grew very hot, saliva filling his mouth. The dog squirmed. Its round eyes met his and he noticed they were the same color as the daughter’s:
“Whatever!”
Abby stomped upstairs to her room and slammed the door. She flopped onto her bed, and when she saw JD Kane crouched in the corner, she screamed.
[CHAPTER NINE]
“W HAT ARE YOU DOING , you idiot?” the daughter whispered. She jumped off the bed and propped her hands on her hips. “You can’t be in my room. My dad will call the cops. Do you have a death wish?”
Martyr fell to the soft floor and curled into a ball. His heart thudded in his chest. Certainly he had done something very bad and would be punished. Did daughters give marks?
“What are you …? Get up.” The daughter nudged him in the back.
He would not get up so she could strike him. Martyr knew that trick—it was one of Rolo’s favorites. Besides, he liked this floorwith the soft, warm fibers that cushioned his body. It was safer to stay in a ball and see what she decided to do next.
A moment of silence passed, and he slowly peeked out between his elbows to see her puzzled expression. Her hair practically glowed; the reddish orange color was so vibrant. He had never seen anything so beautiful.
“What are you wearing?” she asked. “And what did you do to your hair?
JD!
Your hair is your best feature.”
Something sang on the daughter, a noisy, metallic rhythm. Martyr scrambled to a sitting position and backed against the wall, afraid of the strange sound. Was it some kind of alarm?
The daughter stood up and removed a small, red device from her pocket. She held it to her ear. “Hello?”
Martyr frowned as he watched her, puzzled by the strange device and her reaction to it.
“Don’t be stupid. Who is this?” Her thin eyebrows sank low over her pea-green eyes. “It is
not
… Because I’m looking at you right now … You
shaved
your head. Is it a wig?” She leaned closer, peering at Martyr’s head. “How are you doing this?”
The daughter reached a hand towards Martyr, but a loud honk outside caused her to jerk her hand back. She went to the wall, peeked through the strips of metal that hung there, and looked out a window. “What in the world?”
She tossed the device onto the bed. “Stay here.” She pointed a finger at Martyr, who pressed back into the corner again. The daughter opened the door and went out, slamming the door behind her.
Maybe I should leave
. This might be his only chance to get away. But it was so warm and colorful inside the daughter’s cell. He was thankful Dr. Goyer had left the door open when he had yelled at his daughter. Martyr rubbed his cold feet, which had finally started to thaw. It was so much warmer inside the facility than out in the icy darkness.
Martyr did not want to go back to Jason Farms. He did not want to expire. He did not want Dr. Kane to take his kidneys. It was selfish to run away—and he hadn’t intended to. If he neverwent back to the Farm, how many people who lived outside would not get an antidote? Would he still expire when he became eighteen? What would happen to Baby?
Martyr crawled to the bed and tapped the red device with one finger. It was hard and smooth and did not make noise for him. He looked around the daughter’s cell. He couldn’t name the color, but almost everything was the same shade, similar to gray but more pleasant. A huge picture hung on the door of a man with frizzy white hair and a thick mustache. Martyr stepped closer to read the words.
E=MC 2
The door burst open, and the daughter closed it quickly behind her. Martyr scurried back to the corner and crouched low. The daughter leaned against the picture of the man for a long moment before turning to look at Martyr. She stepped toward him and squatted down to his level. She was holding something in her arms. A white and hairy animal. A dog?
“Who
are
you?” Her intense eyes trained on his.
Martyr suddenly grew very hot, saliva filling his mouth. The dog squirmed. Its round eyes met his and he noticed they were the same color as the daughter’s:
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