Tainted Read online



  Tainted

  Alexandra Moody

  https://alexandramoody.com

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Alexandra Moody

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Edited by Pete Thompson

  Cover Design by Alexandra Moody

  For Mum and Dad.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  There was a time when I was afraid of being tested. It wasn’t the jab of the needle that scared me—that was nothing. Being taken away without any notice and without any goodbyes. Now, that was something to fear.

  It’s been years since I’ve worried about my annual testing. When you’ve lost as many people as I have, you come to terms with the possibility you too might be found tainted and taken away—but today is different.

  I look down at the glass cuff that encases my wrist and my heartbeat quickens as I see the time. It’s later than I thought. Only twenty minutes until the appointment now.

  I rip my gaze away from the glowing blue numbers displayed across the CommuCuff’s surface and attempt to focus on Ms. Matthews, who looks more like a relic of history than a teacher of it. She paces in front of the whiteboard, lecturing on the day of impact yet again.

  You wouldn’t think it’d be necessary to teach us about the asteroid that doomed us all. It’s fairly safe to say after living down here in the ARC for fifteen years we’ve all become experts. Yet, there she stands critically breaking down the social ramifications of forcing a select few people from society down into a fallout shelter. God, I hope there isn’t another test on this.

  As I listen to the sound of Ms. Matthews’ voice, I try to remind myself I’m not scared; that I’m not afraid and everything’s going to be okay. It’s no use. The courage I usually feel before my testing is gone and I’m completely consumed by fear. Then again, today is the exception. It’s not me that’s about to be tested, but Quinn.

  I hazard another look at my cuff. Just fifteen minutes now. Fifteen minutes until Quinn’s name is called out. Fifteen minutes until she’s led into a cold, sterile room where her blood will be taken. If the result comes back clear, I’ll see her at the end of the day. If not—if she’s tainted … I’ll never see her again.

  The thought causes shivers to run down my spine and I shake my head slightly, as if to rattle out the dark ideas that fill my mind. She’s going to be okay. She has to be…

  ‘Elle!’ I turn to the sound of my name being irritably whispered from beside me. Amy Lau lifts her eyebrows at me and I follow the direction of her stare down to the stylus I restlessly tap against my desk.

  ‘Sorry,’ I whisper back to her, ceasing the patter.

  I place the pen flat on the table and allow my fingers to drift up and play with the teardrop pearl pendant that hangs from the tarnished silver necklace I always wear. It’s the one possession I have from before impact. I like to think it belonged to my parents—but I really wouldn’t know.

  A despondent sigh escapes my mouth. It’s no use. I can’t stop thinking about it—about her. About losing the closest thing I have to family in this run-down, worn-out fallout shelter.

  I pick the stylus up and start tapping it against the table again. Tap, tap, tap, it drums against the wood. As I watch its quick successive raps, the edges of my vision flicker and the tarnished white walls of the classroom seem to warp.

  I try to ignore the apprehension building inside of me. I can feel my hands getting clammy though, and an invisible oppressive mass seems to weigh down on my chest. My eyes dart frantically around the room, trying to find relief from this feeling of being trapped, but the door is closed and, of course, there are no windows.

  I become intensely aware of the weight of the earth piled above me. The countless meters of dirt, rock and concrete I sit below. I tug at the neck of my top in an attempt to cool myself down.

  Tap, tap, tap, the pen beats faster.

  My peripheral vision can’t ignore the tired walls as they gradually press inwards. I try to focus on the pen. The room is not getting smaller.

  Beads of sweat trickle down the back of my neck, and my heart pounds so wildly in my chest my whole body shakes to the beat of its escalating thud.

  I bow my head down and stare at the tablet on my desk. The words are a blur on the screen. It’s not real. The walls are not closing in. Shutting my eyes, I concentrate on the sound of my soft, uneven breath, wheezing in and then rapidly rushing out again.

  Get a grip Elle. You’ve been here nearly your entire life and the ARC hasn’t caved in yet. I repeat this to myself over and over as I take more long, drawn-out breaths in and out, in and out.

  Gradually my mind becomes clearer and the fear begins to recede. I push it back into the small, murky corner of my brain where it always lurks. I’ve kept it under control for so many years.

  How easily it comes back.

  It’s laughable to think anyone who lives in the ARC could have a fear of being trapped. However, it’s something I have struggled with for the last fifteen years, ever since the day of impact forced us to retreat underground.

  ‘Seriously Elle!’ Amy whispers in my ear, snapping me back to reality. I apologise to her again, immediately stopping the patter and lifting the stylus up to my mouth to chew on the end of it.

  It would’ve been so easy for Quinn to give me her usual winsome smile at breakfast this morning. To say her testing would be over and done with before I knew it, and she’d see me back at our quarters tonight. Yes, that would’ve been so easy. Too easy it would seem.

  She had been sitting across from me in the dining hall, stirring circles in her untouched porridge. She was withdrawn and nothing like her irritatingly perky self.

  As much as I’d been concerned by her weird behaviour, what disturbed me the most hadn’t been the way she acted. It had been what she said. Well, at least, what I think she said. It had been muttered so quietly, I hadn’t been certain at the time I’d even heard it correctly. Hell, I hope I hadn’t heard it correctly.

  ‘Can’t be tainted if you don’t get tested.’ Quinn’s voice echoes through my thoughts again. Surely she won’t try and hide…

  I chew even harder on the end of m
y stylus. If she follows through on what I think I heard her planning, she could end up going before the Council. Would she really be stupid enough to risk that?

  ‘Elle!’ Amy kicks my leg under the table.

  ‘Ouch. What?’ I whisper back.

  She nods her head to the front of the classroom where Ms. Matthews stares at me expectantly.

  ‘Miss Winters?’ she asks.

  My gaze drops down to the tablet on my desk. I’ve completely missed everything she’s said. ‘Sorry, I—ah, didn’t understand the question. Could you phrase it a different way?’ I ask, hoping she hasn’t noticed my complete lack of attention for the duration of her entire class.

  Her face grows sterner. ‘Maybe if you spent more time listening and less time daydreaming, you would not require my assistance in comprehending a basic question. You will attend detention for one hour at the conclusion of school today.’

  ‘Yes Ms. Matthews,’ I respond, attempting to keep the resentment from my voice. Of all the days to get detention, why does it have to be today?

  When the bell finally sounds, marking the end of the school day, I slowly pack my things away in my bag. I’m desperate to delay my inevitable detention and by the time I’ve finished the room is empty.

  As I exit the classroom, my CommuCuff vibrates. ‘Communication reactivated,’ is shown in glowing blue font across the glass cuff’s display.

  ‘Finally,’ I mutter, as I bring up Quinn’s username and click ‘connect’. A blue light swirls across the cuff as it attempts to connect to Quinn’s. I bite down on my lower lip as I watch, apprehension clawing inside of me. Surely she’s finished by now.

  Eventually it times out. My arm drops down to my side and I try not to feel disappointed. She should be out of her testing by now, but there could be any number of reasons why she’s not answering my comm.

  I hitch my bag up over my shoulder and look across the empty foyer towards the library. The area is like most of the ARC—sterile and white. It’s so severely bright under the unforgiving fluorescent bulbs even the smallest scuffmarks are glaringly obvious on the smooth white concrete floor.

  I slowly amble over to the library. I’m finding it hard not to hate Ms. Matthews right now. If I didn’t have this stupid detention, I’d already be on my way back home to see Quinn.

  I shove the library door open with just a little too much force and it slams against the wall with a loud bang, making me jump up and gasp. The noise is especially loud in the quiet confines of the library and I can feel my cheeks grow warm as I take a few steps further inside. Eyes follow me as I walk past the open plan desks to the librarian. Reminder to self: don’t slam doors against library walls.

  I bump my cuff against the librarian’s CommuSensor to register my arrival for detention. As I watch my name appear on the detention list screen, the one above mine catches my eye and I almost feel happy for the first time today. I only know one person who has been able to modify their username. Sebastian must be here.

  The library is a myriad of slick metal stacks and small private booths. In the maze of wood and metal it’s nearly impossible to find anyone, let alone a book you want. There’s an overpowering smell of dust and my shoes echo loudly in the silence as I begin to look for Sebastian.

  The first place I try is over by the private booths. No luck. I expand my search to behind the stacks, the archive room and then back at the front desk. Still I can’t see any sign of him.

  I decide to give up my search, instead opting to find a desk to do some homework. As I head for the nearest free desk, my eyes scan across to the kid’s corner of the room. It’s an explosion of colour over there. Brightly painted circles cover the walls and the letters of the alphabet and animal cut-outs are arranged along the tops of the wooden bookcases. Furry rugs, tiny tables and a mess of toys cover the floor. It’s especially garish when compared to the white monotony of the rest of the library.

  Right in the middle of it all, I spot Sebastian taking a nap. Typical. As I walk closer, I tilt my head and try to figure out exactly how he’s able to sleep in that position. He’s perched precariously on, what is possibly, the world’s tiniest beanbag. It can’t be comfortable. I try hard to smother a laugh. He looks ridiculous.

  I give his foot a kick and attempt to look reproachful, as I stand over him shaking my head. He opens one of his disgruntled blue eyes, curious.

  ‘I leave you alone for one day and you go and get yourself detention?’ I rebuke.

  He yawns, stretches and drags himself into a sitting position, running a hand through his messy brown hair. ‘Nah, I heard you got detention, so I told Mr. Hardy our human reproduction lesson should have more of a practical element, and here I am to keep you company.’ His voice is light and mischievous.

  I shake my head in response and try my best to keep a straight face—any other reaction would only encourage him. I chuck my bag onto the ground and take a seat on the beanbag next to him. ‘I only received mine in the last period. So what really happened?’

  ‘Ah young Elle, don’t you know all men like to have their little secrets?’ He winks at me. ‘Maybe one day, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you the epic tale of how I became imprisoned in the library for one hour after school on a Tuesday.’

  I throw my head in my hands and then laugh despite my best efforts to appear disapproving. ‘Well when I see a man around I’ll keep that in mind,’ I tease.

  He glares at me, but I catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he leans down to retrieve the picture book by his feet.

  As he opens the book and flicks through the aged, well-loved pages, I search his face and wonder how appropriate that joke is these days. He’s a year older than me and it’s beginning to show. His shoulders appear to be filling out, there’s a hint of stubble across his chin and a sense of seriousness behind his deep blue eyes, which had never been there before. While he still has that easy laugh he’s always had, it seems like it comes less frequently than it once did. No, the joke really isn’t appropriate anymore.

  To be honest, he grew up years ago when his mum was taken. Then a few years later, the final leap to adulthood happened when April, his younger sister and my best friend, was taken too. I guess we both grew up a lot then.

  I had been fostered with Sebastian’s family for years but, once April was taken, living there was no longer an option. Adam, Sebastian’s dad, lost the plot and was deemed unfit to look after a foster kid like me. The Council decided to send me back to the dormitories. Instead I got lucky and met Quinn, who insisted I move in with her.

  Despite leaving, Sebastian’s always been protective over me, kind of like the big brother he once was.

  ‘So @NinjaLover?’ I ask.

  Sebastian laughs as I repeat his new CommuCuff username. ‘You better believe. For once one of those old movies you always drag me along to see hit the mark. That karate film we watched the other night really inspired me.’

  ‘They still haven’t figured out how to stop you changing your username?’

  ‘Nope.’

  I take his hand and bump my cuff against his to register his new username. ‘I can never keep up with you. Half the time when I try to comm you, you’ve already moved on to a new username and I can’t get through!’ I say, my frustration colouring my voice. There really is a good reason why you’re not supposed to be able to change it.

  ‘Sebastian Scott,’ a voice giggles from behind us, causing my back to go rigid. There’s only one person in this whole facility with such an irritating voice. I don’t even have to look to know Kate Evans has graced us with her presence. I pretend not to notice her as she parades past us, not wanting to watch her flirt with him yet again.

  I don’t know why it bothers me so much; girls are constantly throwing themselves at him. There’s something about the way she does it though that seems to really grate on me.

  As she flicks her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and gazes at him enticingly, I look
away. The way he looks up at her, it kind of makes me want to thump him across the back of his head with one of the picture books lying at my feet.

  My forehead creases as I try to identify the unexpected feeling. Am I jealous?

  No, it’s not jealousy—definitely not jealousy. It’s more a desire to have any guy look at me that way, rather than Sebastian specifically.

  Either way, it would never happen. It’s not because I’m ugly. I get my fair share of attention from the boys at school. But with my large blue eyes, thick lashes and long brown hair they see me as cute, rather than hot. Guys don’t drool over cute.

  I shouldn’t want that kind of attention anyway, least of all from Sebastian. The closer you get to people the harder it is when they’re found tainted and taken away. I’ve already lost so many friends, I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose someone I loved.

  My eyes unconsciously flicker towards Sebastian who’s chatting easily with Kate. He catches me watching and turns his head slightly to roll his eyes at me. Kate’s so busy talking about herself she doesn’t even notice she’s lost his attention for a moment.

  I smile to myself and look away. Maybe he’s not that riveted to her after all.

  After another ten minutes of listening to Kate’s ceaseless drivel, she finally leaves. I exhale a breath I didn’t even know I was holding as I watch her perky behind strut its way to the door. When I look up I find Sebastian watching me. His eyes show concern, but I have no idea why. I squirm under his stare, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze.

  ‘So, do you know what happened with Quinn today?’ he eventually asks.

  My stomach does a small flip as I think about her testing. ‘No, I haven’t heard anything,’ I say quietly. ‘It nearly killed me not being able to comm her during class, but even when I got out and tried there was no answer.’

  ‘Do you mind if I walk you home tonight?’ he asks, his eyes looking into mine.

  ‘Of course.’ I could think of nothing worse than going home alone to find the place empty. ‘I’d like that,’ I add.

  ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he says, sounding so certain my own doubts waiver for a moment. He takes hold of my hand and squeezes it reassuringly. His hand is so firm and warm. It’s good to know, no matter what happens, he will be here for me.

  He traces his thumb along the ridge of my palm causing my hand to tingle in response. My eyes dart up to his and I quickly pull my hand away.

  What is he doing?

  He doesn’t appear to have noticed anything’s wrong, but I feel unsettled. Studying my hand, there’s no visible damage on the surface except, where he so gently touched me with his thumb, it burns like fire from the contact.

  I can’t manage to look him in the eyes; instead I glare down at the offending hand.

  ‘So I guess detention shouldn’t go too much longer,’ he says.

  ‘Mmm.’ I’m too distracted to articulate anything right now. I rub my hand against the beanbag, desperate to wipe away the tingling sensation he’s scorched into my skin.

  Sebastian is just a friend I tell myself. A really good friend, but he’s just a friend. We will never be more than that.