to it, drives her shoulder into his chest, hard enough to knock me sideways too.
I’m not sure what hurts worse, the first jolt of hitting the street, or the hundred-plus pounds of the soldiers who slam me right back down onto it. My vision blanks to static white as the air explodes out of my lungs all over again.
The soldier snaps at Mia in a language I can’t understand, lashes out a booted foot. Words sputter in my throat as he catches Mia around the ankle and trips her before she can take two steps. It’s almost impossible to get myself up onto my feet with my hands bound and my whole right side throbbing. I grit my teeth and lurch forward onto one knee, then the other.
“Stop this!” A large hand hauls me up by the scruff of my coat. The head soldier has a voice like a cannon, but I don’t catapult back into the thick fear until he holds up a small black device and brings it to within an inch of Mia’s panting face.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks, biting out each word.
My body is already trying to curl around my core to prepare for the piercing grind of White Noise. Our hands are still tied, there’s no way to even cover our ears. Hate powers through me, pumping like thunder. Because, of course. Of course—they can close the camps, they can disband the PSFs, but they still need a way to control us. As long as there are freaks in the world, there will always be White Noise and the people who get to use it, who will never understand what it feels like to have a noise send razors through your brain.
“I do not want to use this,” the man tells her. “Not one of us wants to use this. But we are authorized to do so, and we will. Understood?”
I see now that Mia is braver than I am, because I nod, distracted by what is happening over by the ambulance. She’s the one that asks, “Where are you taking us? Which camp?”
His surprise betrays the hardened expression on his face, like he can’t quite believe that’s our first assumption. All of this, the new government, the international peacekeeping force, happened so fast—these people have been injected into a reality that must feel as upside-down to them as it does to us.
“No more camps.” He shakes his head. “You are to be processed, and…re-homed.”
Re-homed. My lip curls back. Meaning…rewired. Released back into civilization with tiny machines implanted in our brains. I wonder if this will be our lives, for however many years we have left—no say, no choice, just orders and changes and handcuffs. I wonder if they think we are even really human.
We are, aren’t we?
“My brother—” Mia starts.
“Get in,” the soldier cuts her off, jerking his head toward the back of the van. When she doesn’t move, Mia is picked up and tossed inside.
“Stop it!” I shout, launching myself at his back. I’m thrown back immediately, lifted up and dropped onto the bench before the dizzying black spots can clear out of my vision.
I try to stand, but the man already has a seat belt whipped out and over my hips, securing me in place. The zip ties are traded for cuffs attached to the seat. Resentment steams under my skin, and my burns feel like they’re blistering.
Lucas, I’m sorry. If there’s a way to fix this, if it’s not too late, I will.
I won’t let them change her. Give her to adults who’ll mistreat or neglect her. I can find my old self long enough to do that one last thing.
“Where’s my brother?” Mia says, and it’s the first time she sounds like a kid to me. I think she’s hit the point where pride doesn’t matter, when desperation isn’t a weakness but a last resort. “Please don’t take him away, not again—he’s all I’ve got, he’s all that’s left—don’t take him to a place we can’t find him—”
“For Christ’s sake, kid—you are goddamn relentless!” he cuts her off. He steps back from the doors to allow the two paramedics to get to the van. A stretcher is slung between them, weighed down by Lucas’s body. I try to jump up from my seat, even with the belt and cuffs, and Mia does the same, just as another soldier secures her hands to the bench.
He’s been strapped down, and bags of clear fluid are resting on his stomach,