Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,143

in plain sight. Even after the sounds of their transports were long gone, I still felt Cavil’s presence.

Two guards were left behind to watch over us at the safe house. I resumed my usual pacing, but this time, Jules didn't complain. She eyed our guards with scrutiny as they followed my every move.

"Why’s your Walker all worked up?" the blond burly one, who called himself Webb, asked while smirking at me. I ignored his question, as well as his determination to label me as a Walker.

It didn't take long for me to learn that nearly every soldier in the Ethros military camp did not like Walkers. I caught them staring at the hole in my ear where my tag once was. When Cyler removed my ear tag, it was freeing. But despite its absence, it still haunted me. It was like the soldiers were peering at my liberation and treating it like defiance.

"Hey, he asked you a question," the other snapped after neither of us replied. He had dark curly hair and black eyes framed by a single thick eyebrow that stretched across his forehead. He tilted his head and clicked his teeth together in frustration. Jules looked up and threw them a bored expression before picking at her nails. I stopped pacing.

After a moment, her face lit up with a smile and she asked, "How does it feel to be glorified babysitters?" She then stood and walked towards me. There was a rigidness in the way she carried herself. Her graceful smile and poised shoulders were deceptive, but I saw how her breathing became labored.

"I guess it feels similar to being a glorified prisoner, Mistress," the blond replied with a grin. He was leaning against the cracked wall before he straightened, stalking towards us. I immediately gripped Jules' wrist and pulled her back away from him.

"Now, we were supposed to wait a couple more hours, but I think Cavil would understand, don't you, Blan?" he asked. The dark-haired man smiled in response, then stood from his rocker and cracked his neck, the pops were loud in the eerily silent room. After glancing at one another, they both made their way towards us.

I held onto Jules’ arm and ran for the door, pulling her with me, determined to get away from them. The house was too small, it was too late. With just two strides, the guards grabbed our shoulders and pulled us tightly against their chests. With arms like suffocating steel, we were dragged outside towards a sleek, black transport.

I struggled against Blan's hold and firmly kicked my feet against the ground, praying it would slow him down enough so I could get away. I alternated between thrashing my body and going limp, but nothing worked. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jules calmly being carried. She didn't struggle or fight. She merely wore an amused expression as the guard stomped towards the transport.

Both men plopped us down on the dirt. I fell on my back before immediately rolling over and dragging my torso across the ground. I lifted myself up on my knees and prepared to run, but Blan slapped me across the cheek. The sting and blunt force of it sent me sliding, and I fell back down. Dizziness consumed me as I tried to orient myself. Blan wrapped his thick fingers around my neck and lifted me up. While keeping a steady grip on my neck, he held his tablet up to my face.

“Just want to double check the Walker database,” he said in a nonchalant tone while scanning my image. My lungs threatened to burst from the pressure of his grip. Finally, the tablet pinged and he dropped me. Once again, I fell back down to the dirt and began gasping for air.

"Knew it. You’re a fucking Walker," he growled out while dusting off his arms and pants. “Losing your ear tag don’t mean shit. If you’re on the registry, you’re up for grabs.”

My breathing slowed as I realized what this meant. There was a national database which cataloged all Walkers. It ensured that they didn’t flee once receiving the vaccine or try to pass as someone that couldn’t contract X. But if Cyler never updated my status, then that meant I was still fair game to be claimed, bought, or sold.

“Looks like you have quite the pedigree. Immune. Worked for the Governor of Galla.”

I placed a cool hand on my cheek to soothe the pain caused by his slap, and when