Unwanted: The Unwanted Trilogy, #1

By Nathan Deen

Raised to be a slave. Sold to the highest bidder. Her very existence is a crime. Will she be the one to turn the new world order upside down?

In a dystopian America, the government's plans for population control are in effect. Georgia has spent every day of her life on the Atlanta outskirts in a government-run facility with other Unwanteds. They are children born outside of a federal child-restriction law, stolen from their parents, and used for the government's own purposes.

Just days after her twelfth birthday, Georgia learns someone is coming to buy her. She'll have to do whatever they say. She'll be their slave. The only question that runs through her mind is, can the outside world be any worse than the one she's lived in?

After being bought by a well-to-do family with a terrible secret and sold into sex trafficking, Georgia crosses paths with a male Unwanted named Kyle, who's been raised to be a soldier in a military experiment. Unable to leave Georgia in her circumstances, Kyle hatches a plan to free her from the captivity of a dangerous pimp. Along with two other Unwanteds, Georgia and Kyle go on the run in an unknown world where the bond they form may be the only thing that keeps them alive. They know they'll be hunted. They know they can't run forever. But freedom is worth the risk.

In the vein of 1984, Unwanted is a fast-paced thriller chock-full of riveting suspense, touching moments, and engrossing characters living in a frighteningly realistic society gone wrong.

Pick up a copy to begin the journey today.

Sign up for my newsletter (nathandeen.com) and receive a free exclusive copy of Unconditional, the prequel novella to the Unwanted Trilogy.

The Unwanted Series:
UNCONDITIONAL (Prequel novella)
UNWANTED (Book 1)
UNBOUND (Book 2, coming summer 2020)
UNDAUNTED (Book 3, coming winter 2020)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nathan Deen
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393705833

Book preview

I

Georgia

1

January 2050

Twelve is the only number she can think about. That number has been resting in the back of her mind for years and pushing its way to the forefront by the passing time. She responds to the number 237. That is her identity. Inmate No. 237, Southeastern Unwanted Facility.

Today, No. 237 turns twelve, at least according to her records. She only knows what’s inside the fence: the chilled air of the barracks she sleeps in, the exhaustion she feels every day, the cruelty of the nurses, and the viciousness of the dogs. She awakes in dread. Everything about the only milieu she’s ever known will change. She spent the night tossing and turning in her upper bunk, no doubt keeping No. 236 awake with her, wondering who might come for her in the morning, until those thoughts finally turned into dreams. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, the dreams had suggested. Maybe it would be a while before they sent her away.

At least I’m not a boy, she thinks. But because of the stories she has heard from some of the girls who have been recycled back through here, she can only think of the worst.

What if the family isn’t nice? What if they hurt me?

For everyone else, the wake-up call comes like any other day. Nurse Parks flips on the lights and is met with resistant, squinty eyes, but she persists and threatens those who roll back over in their beds with a whipping. 237 notices the Warden came in with her today, which can only mean one thing.

Will the Warden order her to make her bunk neat for its next occupant? Have they really found a buyer already?

After she dresses, the Warden orders 237 to follow her. They take a right turn out of the barracks and into the hallway. The rest of the girls turn the opposite way and follow Nurse Parks toward the cafeteria, and she wonders if she’ll ever see them again.

No. 237 continues to follow the Warden, and they take at least seven or eight turns before going through three sets of double doors. She’s never been on this side of the facility before. She reasons it’s the quarters for the nurses and guards. It isn’t nearly as cold here as it is in the barracks. At this time in late winter, it’s as warm as 237 can remember feeling. They keep the barracks cold on purpose, and her inmate clothing—a one-piece schmatte—is thin and provides no relief. The only respite comes during the spring and summer, when they’re allowed one hour of outside time a day. Otherwise, she might not even know what warm feels like.

The last set of double doors leads them outside, toward a different building on the compound. The feeling of warmth vanishes as she steps into the early morning cold. They walk to the adjacent building across the recreation area, where few Unwanted ever set foot more than once. 237 assumes it’s the Warden’s quarters. It is the place where she is most often seen coming and going. 237 quickens her pace to escape the cold but makes sure not to get too close to the Warden, which is difficult since the Warden is much better dressed for the weather. With her black wool coat and leather boots, she is less compelled to hurry inside.

At last, they enter, and 237 feels the presence of warmth again. Her body shivers with relief, and she grits her teeth. The Warden unlocks the first door on the left, opens it, and invites 237 in with a gesture, presenting a claustrophobic office with bookshelves lining the entire back wall. The Warden gestures to 237 again, this time to take a seat in front of the desk, behind which is the Warden’s large, burgundy leather chair. To the left are five filing cabinets, and the Warden opens the top drawer of the one nearest to the desk.

The Warden is a tall, plain-faced woman with short and smooth black hair, bulky in stature in a way that makes her intimidating without her saying a word, though she has a voice that matches her demeanor—deep and unpleasant. Her thick, black coat is buttoned two-thirds of the way over a black blouse, allowing the white pearls over her neckline to stand out all the more. Without the pearls, she looks like she has no neckline at all.

She riffles through a drawer full of files, plucks one out, and closes the drawer in a manner that can’t quite be described as a slam—she doesn’t look angry—but is firm enough to send a message of intimidation to the nervous girl in front of her. The burgundy chair is so large it makes the Warden appear too small for it, which is quite a feat. She rummages through the file for several minutes before breaking the silence.

And how are you today, 237?

237 only nods.

Your records show that you were illegally born on January 24, 2038, which means that today you are now twelve years old.

237 doesn’t understand why all the elders in the facility make it sound like she’s done something wrong, as if her very existence is her fault. When she was younger and naïve enough to ask too many questions, she would ask the nurses why she had to stay in this place. Why couldn’t she leave? She was told she had no right to ask such a thing. She remembered asking one of the nurses what an Unwanted was.

You, the nurse replied. You’re an Unwanted.

Instead, she learned the answer when she was 8 from a girl who had been recycled.

What is a family?

They’re the ones who buy you, the girl informed her. The man is called the ‘Father’ and the woman is called the ‘Mother.’ Then there are the ones who are younger, like us. The boy is called the ‘Brother’ and the girl is called the ‘Sister.’

237 liked the older girl. There aren’t many that age here. Older girls bunk in another part of the facility, so the cafeteria is the only place girls of different ages interact with each other. Each age group takes turns preparing meals for the others.

So what did they do with you when they took you away from here?

Whatever they wanted. Everything we’re taught to do here. Cook, clean. Work. All day, every day.

Not any better out there?

Depends on who the family is. And if you do what you’re told—and do it right. The first week I didn’t fold clothes the way the Mother liked and she busted my nose, then blamed me for getting blood on them.

237 rarely had conversations that lasted this long, but she was curious about so many things, and she had finally met someone who would answer her.

I don’t understand.

Don’t understand what?

Are we supposed to be a Brother or Sister?

Of course not.

Why?

We’re Unwanteds.

What does that mean?

I was taking out the garbage one morning and found a paper—it’s what the outsiders use to read about what’s going on. I read it while they weren’t looking. That’s what they call us. Unwanteds. I didn’t understand every word, but there’s something called the Government, and they’re in charge of everything. They say a family can only have two kids. If the Mother and Father have more than two, they’re Unwanted and sent to a place like this.

So I came from a Mother and Father. Where were they now? Why didn’t they want me?

How many more places like this are there?

Lots. You can’t speak about what I told you outside of this table. The family might have broken my arm or something if they knew I had that paper.

237 nodded. The elders made the effort to give reading lessons one hour per day. 237 had just begun learning a year prior to that conversation. They had decided teaching them to communicate was easier than beating them, but they were careful to teach them only what they needed to know.

But there is one good thing about leaving here. You get a name.

A name?

Yeah, like the elders here. The family owns you until they return you, so they give you their last name. Mine’s Overson. They gave me a first name too. Oval.

At least I’ll get a name.

---

—

Your family will be here Friday morning to take you to Pensacola, the Warden finishes, pulling 237’s mind back to the present.

That’s two days from now.

A guard escorts her back to her quarters, where she is told she can shower and eat breakfast in the cafeteria before joining her fellow Unwanteds in their duties. She always hesitates before stepping under a showerhead that produces an icy blast so powerful it stings. After the first jet of water hits her bare shoulders, she jerks back, but gradually she leans forward and lets the water blast the soap off her face, trying to ignore the iciness of the water and thinking about what the next two days will be like. She’s never been beyond this facility, and now she’s going to some place called Pensacola. It sounds nice.

She wonders what’s beyond the line of trees a few hundred yards past the fence line as she rinses her ash brown hair and runs her fingers through it. This place is always full of dust, and it affects her scalp. At times, the itching makes her want to rip her hair out. She wants to stay in the shower for as long as possible. Usually, the shower room is full, and now she has it to herself. But as surely as she knows time will bring her new owners to this place, she knows the nurses will start to wonder about her if she takes much longer.

She looks at herself in a mirror above one of the sinks. She has a ghost-white pale face, a small spot of brown freckles on each cheek, green eyes and pursed lips to go with a well-shaped nose. She brushes her teeth with a flimsy toothbrush. The Unwanteds are issued a new one every year, so this one is still in decent shape. It’s like that with shoes and clothes, too. One set to last for the year, with no chance of a replacement set within that time, though the nurses will hand out some tape if the soles on the shoes come loose. Many of the overalls have multiple food stains on them from daily cooking exercises. If the girls want to wash their uniforms, they must wait naked in the laundry room, the coldest corner of the facility. Her own uniform needs washing after her incident yesterday, when she let a pot of tomato sauce get so hot it boiled and splattered onto her, a large red stain covering her chest with little red dots dispersed everywhere else. It’ll get her through two more days. She puts it on and follows Nurse Parks to the cafeteria.

I instructed the girls to leave you a serving, the nurse says.

237 walks over to the large pot in the kitchen, the kind that might be used in the kitchen of a popular restaurant, sitting on the first of four stoves, each with four burners. She finds some oatmeal still left in it, fills her bowl, and sits down.

You have fifteen minutes, and then I want you to join your class in knitting, the nurse says. You’re already behind enough this morning.

237 keeps eating.

Did you hear me, 237?

She waits to swallow a bite before replying.

Everi.

Excuse me?

That’s the name of the family coming to get me. Everi. That’s my new name.

—

Anything other than a Yes, ma’am in response to an order is treated as an act of insubordination. Nurse Parks quickly reminds 237 that she is not worthy of any name and sentences her to a day of cleaning up in the kitchen after every age group.

Oh well, she thinks.

The day races by with kitchen work, but she’s sad she missed knitting, her favorite activity. She’s persuaded the nurses to let her have a pair of knitting pins and a few rolls of yarn, which she stashes under her pillowcase, promising to practice on her own. She’s working on a square patch that will look more like a painting upon completion, one of a young girl and a boy roaming in a field of green grass that has no end.

237 scrubs what feels like more than a hundred kitchen items—bowls, pots, pans, and spoons—just so the next group can reuse them immediately. But by 2 p.m., all the groups have finished eating, freeing 237 for an hour of outside time. She roams the grounds looking for him and finds him sitting in the open field about 20 yards from the west fence in a spot that inspires her patchwork, minus the surrounding fence and trees. A chilly wind ruffles through dead brown grass, and she will never see it green again.

Surely, there’s more grass out there.

None of the other Unwanteds are on this side of the compound, and the guards in the corner tower seem to be looking intently at 237 and the boy sitting in front of her. The boy has just been sitting there, needing an eye kept on him.

You don’t normally come out this far, she says.

Just wanted to be away from everybody.

You want me to leave?

No. You can stay.

237 sits down in front of him and crosses her legs, the grass still a little moist from the cold, frosty morning.

So, are you leaving? the boy asks.

Yes.

I got my notice today. I turn twelve next week.

What happens then? How do the boys leave?

A man in uniform comes to get us in the morning. Always the same man.

Does anyone ever come back once they leave?

He shakes his head. They stay silent for a moment.

I’m scared, the boy says.

Me, too.

They can walk along the fence line under the close supervision of the tower guards. Most of the time, the Unwanteds stay in groups, but unless someone is just days away from leaving, there isn’t much to talk about except maybe what they think is hard about their classes.

237 finds it much easier to converse with boys than the girls she lives with. She had known nothing about what the boys’ lives were like until she met No. 243. He sat alone then, just like he does today. 237 sat down next to him, wanting to learn as much about him as possible—where he came from, what he liked to do. But he was no different from her. He didn’t know those things, either. So every conversation with 243 became about what they had done and learned that day, until they were bold enough to start asking questions, making sure there were no guards or nurses in their proximity who could hear them. They asked questions that they both knew neither of them had the answers to, but instead allowed their minds to drift into imagination and speculation.

What’s beyond the fence?

They have no more concept of what is beyond that fence than a guinea pig knows about the world outside of its cage, but in less than two days, 237 would know, and 243 just a few days after her.

Are boys given names once they leave?

He doesn’t know. 237 tells him about her new name.

That sounds nice.

How does someone become part of a family? What is a lawyer? The Warden said that was the father’s occupation, whatever that means.

She has never heard the word friend, but she feels a different way about this boy than anyone else in the complex. She wants to spend as much time with him as possible. There isn’t anything left to talk about today. 237 repositions next to 243, stretches out her legs, and stares at her feet, then lays her head back onto the grass as the moisture soaks into her hair. 243 follows her gesture, and together they stare up at the clear sky, trying to hold on to the present, as a white bird flies overhead and lands on a branch in one of the trees behind the fence.

An engine hums. Tires roll over gravel. The boy and the girl lift their heads toward a road that snakes its way into the forest. This is what they call a car, 237 has been told. It’s what will take her away from here. But those cars only come in the mornings. This one is bringing someone here.

—

Nurse Parks forces 237 to clean up after all the age groups again after supper, and the task takes more than three hours because, unlike at lunch, everybody eats at the same time, which means there are more bowls and pots to clean, but she’s allowed to eat with the girls before she starts the dishes.

The nurses teach them numerous recipes they will use to cook for their future families, delicious food of their own making they are never allowed to taste. The nurses judge whether they’ve done it right. Sometimes the aroma makes some of the girls salivate and the temptation becomes too irresistible, resulting in some of the harshest punishments. For every transgression, the penalty is two days with no food at all, starving while being forced to cook all day. The Unwanteds are allowed to make only soups and bread for their meals. Fortunately, the bread is always good, crisp and firm on the outside and soft on the inside.

The soup today is what 237 learned as lentil soup. She fills her bowl and looks for a place to sit down. The eating area consists of eight long rows of tables. She gazes at the corner nearest the entrance and notices that one of the older girls sits isolated. 237 doesn’t want to intrude, but everywhere else is full. As she gets closer, the face of the girl becomes more and more familiar. Then she recognizes her: the same older girl she had spoken to years earlier. Oval. She must be at least sixteen by now, maybe seventeen. She must have been the one who was in the car, because 237 hadn’t seen her in years.

She looks different and not because of age. Dark circles hang from her strained eyes like heavy weights, and a short scar protrudes from the left side of her lip and runs like an inlet into the craggy skin of her cheek. 237 is sure she didn’t have that before. She sits down, but Oval doesn’t acknowledge her presence. Instead, she gulps her soup down as if she hasn’t eaten in days. 237 wonders if that isn’t so far from the truth.

Do you remember me, Oval?

The spoon full of hot soup in her hand stops just before it reaches her mouth. Oval looks up and gazes at the wall on the opposite side of the room, avoiding eye contact with 237.

89, she says as she puts the spoon to her mouth.

What?

89 is my number in here.

I thought you said your name was Oval.

I don’t have to keep the name if I don’t want it, so don’t say it again. 89.

Where have you been since you last left?

Now the girl who wants to be known as 89 looks into her eyes. She puts her spoon back into the bowl, which she picks up along with her glass of water, then stands up from the table and walks away.

I’m leaving. A family is coming to get me. My name will be Everi.

The girl pauses and looks halfway back at 237 over her shoulder, but she doesn’t say anything and continues walking.

What’s happened to her? She seemed so happy when she had a name.

237 remembers her words from a few years ago: But there is one good thing about leaving here.

Is there anything good about leaving here at all? Could staying really be better?

Having a name has been the one part of this whole thing that has brought some joy into 237’s day. 89 has just stripped her of that.

—

Dawn arrives on what will be her final full day at the facility where she has spent her entire life. 237 is thankful Nurse Parks gave her so much work the night before. Falling asleep took no effort. Exhausted after cleaning the kitchen without any help, she passed out before the final lights out call.

Her depression from learning how little a name meant to 89 never lets up throughout the long day. Time crawls by at a snail’s pace. She’s repeatedly caught not paying attention in class. How can she? So many uncertainties lie in front of her, and nothing of what her teachers say seems important. She and a small group of girls who misbehaved are ordered to dust the blinds of every window in the facility before lunch. This isn’t so bad, because it includes the nurses’ quarters and the guards’ quarters, which are warmer. But it’s a cold, rainy day, which means no outside time today.

I’ll never see him again.

She finished her patch and wanted to give it to him before she left. What can she do? Ask a nurse to give it to him for her? The rain makes her want to cry, but one of the nurses is on a break and in the room with her. They frown upon crying more than any other behavior, and the penalty for it is the worst of all the punishments meted out here. Unwanteds are forced to stand in front of everyone in the cafeteria, while a nurse announces to everyone the reason for their crying and how pathetic they are for giving in to emotion. To avoid such humiliation, Unwanteds learn to not cry, to hide their emotions from the world, to get through the day and make it to the next. She can’t let something like that happen on her last day.

The girls can spend their downtime in the cafeteria or in their quarters. 237 wants to lie in her bunk and not talk to anyone. She doesn’t want to do anything for the rest of the day. Her thoughts take her away from time and space until a dark figure standing by her bunk brings her back. The head is nearly level with the top bunk. It’s not one of the younger girls, and it’s not a nurse. It’s 89.

I didn’t see you in the cafeteria, so I came looking for you.

Now 237 is the one who doesn’t want to talk and gives 89 the same treatment she gave her yesterday. She rolls over and puts her back to her.

You’re not supposed to be in here, she says. After a moment, 89 responds.

You know it’s the Mother and Father that name the Brother and Sister? But eventually if they don’t like their name, they can have it changed.

237 rolls back over and faces her.

So why do you not like yours?

89 tries to speak but can’t get the words out.

No, I’m sorry! Don’t cry. 237 looks to make sure no nurses are around.

It’s okay, just don’t tell anyone, she says, sobbing. I met someone one night a few months ago. He was different than all the other men. He just wanted to talk. He was born normal, but he didn’t go by his family’s name. He changed it. Said he was ashamed of it. Said it reminded him too much of the bad things he and his family had done.

Bad things? Like what?

The things they did to kids like us. They beat them a lot, and some so much that they died. They were rich.

237 knows rich means having a lot more of everything than she does.

"One time, he said two of them were punished for being disobedient and that they would only keep one of them. They tried to force them to fight each other until one killed the other and said that if they refused they would kill them both and buy new Unwanteds. He told me so many things about the real world, and I’ve learned so much since then. I didn’t know if I wanted to tell you these things yesterday. Whether to tell you what to expect or let you find out on your own.

I ran away with him. He said he wanted to take me away from there and that he would take care of me. After everything he told me, I went with him. He taught me so much. More than I’d ever learned in here. The world is so much bigger than you could possibly imagine. But I don’t want you to worry too much. There are nice families, or families that you can get along with if you just do as you’re told. Maybe the Everis are just like that.

So tomorrow I could be going to a family who wants to hurt me for their enjoyment, or it could be like living here, only not as many people.

How did you end up back here?

The police—they’re the ones who make sure you follow rules—they found us. My owner told them I was missing. They took my friend away, but they said my owner had died a few days earlier, so I had no one to be returned to. I’m for sale again.

What did the man change his name to?

Boaz.

She lifts her left heel and reaches to dig something out of her slipper. She hands 237 a square of paper, folded countless times. 237 can see writing all over it. Oval has used the front and back of what had to be at least ten pages.

I wrote down as much of what I saw as I could before we were caught. Keep it in your shoe. Read it when you’re alone if you ever feel like you need to talk to someone.

—

How long will you be in court for?

The trial will last at least a week, probably. Important case.

Well you picked a wonderful time to buy this girl. Now I have to deal with her alone for a week, and I don’t even know her.

You’ll be fine. These people know what they’re doing. They’re experts at discipline. You won’t get any trouble from her.

Well it’s not just me that I’m worried about. Jeremy and Lily aren’t very fond of this whole idea.

Oh, I’m sure. It’s not like she’s going to get any special treatment or anything. They’ll come around once they realize they’ll have someone to make their bed for them every day. Cook their breakfast. Do their laundry.

Well, that sure isn’t going to be me any longer. Not going to hear them complain anymore those three days of the week where I have an eight o’clock class and have to wake them up early and do all that stuff so I can make it to work on time. You know, I wish they still did grade school the old way. You remember how we had to wake up at the crack of dawn every morning and physically go to school?

And before that, my great-grandfather had to walk three miles in the snow. Uphill.

"Yeah, well, they’re in for a shock once they get to college. Now they can stay up late, sleep in till nine, stay in their pajamas all day. And how is