Unbound: The Unwanted Trilogy, #2

By Nathan Deen

Georgia has spent a year unbound from her life as an Unwanted in a dystopian America. 

 

After searching for her best friend, Oval, but with no luck, Georgia has settled in Calgary, Alberta, where she has a boyfriend, a job, and a studio apartment. A normal life is starting to feel nice. But she can't let go of her past. And even if she could, it won't let go of her.

 

One night, she finds her apartment ransacked, and she realizes someone is looking for her, prompting her to leave behind the small life she's built and to keep her promise to find Oval. An attack by a mysterious girl her age reveals that someone knows who she is, and they want Oval, too. But why?

 

The answer will lead her into the middle of an underground resistance, and Georgia could be the key to taking that resistance to the next level. She's offered a mission that will put the freedom she has known at risk. A mission that will reveal a shocking secret. A mission that could change everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nathan Deen
• Release date: Jul 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393502807

Book preview

I

THE REUNION

1

May 2057

She knows he doesn’t understand why she likes coming here so much. He’s yawned more times than the tigers lying in the grass in front of them. But he’s not complaining. He must really like her.

How often do you come here? he asks.

At least once a week. Why? Is that not normal?

Most people only come to the zoo a couple of times a year. If that.

Oh. I used to have a friend. We liked coming to the zoo together.

In truth, she doesn’t come here for the animals. She comes here for Oval, hoping to see her. If there were an unspoken meeting place for the two of them, it had to be here. She had chosen Calgary because it reminded her of Oval’s favorite city: Denver. This is where Oval would want to live, isn’t it? The Rocky Mountains in view to the west, just like Denver. A downtown with towering, modern architecture, just like Denver. So many beautiful lakes and hiking trails, just like the ones they saw together in Denver.

But it’s been a year. If she were here, Georgia would’ve found her by now. But what if she is here? What if Oval has also been coming to the zoo, but they’ve missed each other? Should she come here every day for a week, just to be sure? There’s still a place she hasn’t checked where Oval could be, but Georgia can’t bring herself to believe it. Oval couldn’t have gone back to that life. No. She has a good job somewhere and a nice apartment. Maybe even a boyfriend, just like Georgia.

Where is she now? Patrick asks. Or is it a he?

She. And I wish I knew.

I’m sorry.

He draws her in to comfort her, and she rests her head on his shoulder for a moment.

It’s okay. I’m glad I’m here with you.

Me too. You ready to grab a bite?

Sure.

She met Patrick three months ago while walking downtown. He nearly crashed into her with his bike when a driver decided to run a red light. Everyone here drives their cars manually. No system. No grid. She can sleep a little more soundly, knowing she doesn’t always have to look over her shoulder.

Most people in the downtown area of Calgary ride their bikes or use public transportation. Patrick, a sophomore at the University of Calgary who cycles everywhere, thought it was strange a girl Georgia’s age didn’t know how to ride a bike, but she said things like that were different with kids in the U.S. Not many kids spend a lot of time outdoors the way they do here. He taught her how, and three weeks ago he bought a bike for her with money he had saved from working. Now they ride together wherever they go.

They unlock their bikes from the racks in front of the zoo and pedal to the north side of downtown to their favorite deli. Patrick usually gets a meatball sub, but since they are taking their sandwiches to the park, better to get a cold one and avoid the mess. They both order pastrami sandwiches with spicy brown mustard and head north over the Bow River bridge to Prince’s Island Park, where they settle at a picnic table shaded by a grove of trees, on a cloudless day.

You working at the restaurant tomorrow? Patrick asks, wiping a smudge of mustard from his lip.

Yep.

What time do you get off? I could come by, if you’d like.

That would be nice. But don’t you have an exam on Monday?

It’s not that important.

Don’t tell me that. You have an opportunity. I don’t think you realize how many people don’t have what you have. You shouldn’t waste it.

Are you talking about yourself?

She doesn’t answer and takes another bite of her sandwich.

Look, he says, I feel like you know a lot more about me than I do about you. I mean, you’re not here for school. You’re not from here. Hard to believe someone like you didn’t get into university and is just okay with being a server in Calgary.

Maybe I am.

She can tell by his expression he isn’t satisfied.

Let’s just say I studied in the U.S. for a year. But it wasn’t for me.

So what if I decide that university isn’t for me, either?

Then you’d be an idiot, she laughs. But he’s not laughing with her. Wait. What are you saying?

I’m saying that maybe I’m getting serious about something else.

Like what?

You.

I don’t understand. Why would you need to quit school for me? We see each other plenty.

I’m not saying I’m quitting. I’m just saying I’m not going to be as worried about some physics exam as I used to be.

So, when you say you’re serious about me …

His face tells her all she needs to know. She drops her sandwich in its wrapping and takes a deep breath with her hand over her chest. Patrick looks crestfallen.

I’m sorry. Is it too soon?

Too soon? You’re the first real relationship I’ve ever had. The only boy I’ve loved died in my arms. You don’t know who I really am. The girl you know now is the one I want you to know. I’m not ready for you to know the real one. How could I ever be ready? You think I’m normal. I need you to keep thinking I’m normal. But if we end it now, you’ll want an explanation. An explanation I can’t give.

Listen, I’m sorry, he says. I just wanted you to know I care about you. These past three months have been the best I’ve ever known. But I still feel like I don’t know you, and if you’re not going to let me in, then this will never work.

I’m sorry. She starts crying. I don’t know how to do that.

I’m not asking you to tell me everything all at once. I just want to know if we’re going to be more than what we are now.

But I didn’t come here for you. I came here to find Oval. If Oval isn’t here, then why am I here? I’ll have to leave and find her. But what if I never find her? Wouldn’t she want this for me? To find a life?

Patrick puts his hand on her shoulder. I, ummm … I spoke to my mom yesterday. She and my dad live in Chestermere. They want me to come over for dinner tonight. They’re picking me up from my dorm at three. I’d like you to meet them and come over to our house for dinner.

Do they know about me?

I told my mother for the first time yesterday.

She thinks about it. She’s afraid to give an answer but feels she has no choice right now but to say yes.

—

The last time she was in a family’s house, she was their slave. She knows that’s not how things are here, but the night she tries to forget goes with her wherever she goes, entwined with the other strands of her life like thick wire in a chain-link fence, impossible to separate. Of all the things she’s ever been forced to do, Mr. Everi’s violation haunts her the most. Before that happened, she had thought things were better on the outside. She had thought she could be a part of his family. In an instant, he took it all away from her, and she’s been struggling to survive ever since. They won’t do anything to you, she reassures herself. They can’t. Nothing will happen.

Patrick’s mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher, have mannerisms that resemble those of Mr. and Mrs. Everi in almost every way. They step out of their black Lexus SUV in the parking lot next to Patrick’s dorm room with warm smiles, as anxious to meet her as they are to see their son.

Mom, Dad, this is Georgia, Patrick introduces her.

Hello, Georgia, the woman says, cutting in front of her husband. I’m Patricia Gallagher. This is my husband, Brian.

She shakes their hands.

Pleasure to meet you.

We’re so thrilled to have you join us this evening.

Thank you for inviting me, Georgia says.

Mrs. Gallagher puts her arm around Georgia’s shoulder and leads her to the car.

Well, come now, we have to be going. Our babysitter is waiting for us to get back. So Patrick tells me you’re from the U.S.?

That’s right.

You must not be used to vehicles that don’t drive themselves, Mr. Gallagher says as Patrick holds the rear passenger door open for her.

No, sir.

Except for a bus, she hasn’t been in a vehicle in over a year, and for a moment she forgets about her seat belt.

Can’t imagine what it must be like to not drive your own car. Not have control.

They say it’s safer, Mrs. Gallagher says. It eliminates human error.

It’s a system made by humans. There’s always going to be human error. And it infringes on freedom. I mean, imagine owning a vehicle, something you paid hundreds of thousands for, and the government can just shut the engine off whenever it wants.

Patrick leans in to whisper into Georgia’s ear: They argue like this all the time. She conjures a smile. Just like the Everis. Mr. Everi was opinionated and outspoken, while Mrs. Everi tolerated his rants, offering only a sentence or two just to let him know she wasn’t ignoring him while wishing he would stop jabbering.

Mr. Gallagher finally changes the subject just as they turn onto Highway 1.

So, Georgia, where in the U.S. are you from?

Um … Atlanta.

Oh, did you like it there?

No. Not really. That’s why I left.

What about your family?

This is what she feared. These are all questions Patrick has asked her, but she has always deflected and asked Patrick to respect her boundaries. She wants to make a good impression on his parents, but how does she answer? Patrick would be hearing these things for the first time, too. She wants him to intervene. She looks at him. He’s as stuck as she is, unsure how to respond.

Um … they’re gone, she says. It’s not a lie.

An awkward silence goes by, and it seems the Gallaghers have taken the hint.

I’m sorry, Mr. Gallagher says. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get here all the way from there?

Patrick wishes his father wouldn’t push the subject, but it’s almost like he can’t help himself.

Um … I had a friend who lived out here, but that didn’t work out. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, so I found a job and a small apartment. I didn’t really know anyone until Patrick almost killed me with his bike.

What? Mrs. Gallagher says, exasperated. How did that happen?

I was trying to cross an intersection and some guy ran the red light, and I had to swerve to miss him.

See, she says to her husband. Those kinds of things don’t happen in the U.S.

And then Patrick never would have met the charming young lady behind us. Fate is the very thing the driverless grid tries to destroy. Obviously, some fate is tragic, but other times it gives us some of life’s greatest gifts.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves, Georgia says, to the surprise of everyone. Patrick and Mrs. Gallagher turn their heads at her, while Mr. Gallagher looks directly at her through his rearview mirror.

Shakespeare? Mr. Gallagher asks.

"Julius Caesar, Georgia says. She remembers reading the play with Hildy. Fate is only what will happen if we sit back and do nothing."

Where did you say you studied in Atlanta?

I didn’t. I guess you could say I was homeschooled.

I didn’t even know that still existed in the States.

You know, I never really fit in well there. But here, it’s different.

Well it seems like Patrick has found a bright young lady. We’re glad to have you.

Georgia tries to stay present as the SUV pulls onto a dirt road leading to the Gallaghers’ countryside home, which would be picturesque if it wasn’t so much like the Everis’. Two stories. A husky and a brown Lab roam the grounds. She sees a barn and next to it a set of stables. She almost starts to hyperventilate before Patrick rests his hand on her shoulder.

You okay?

She nods.

She’s as far away from okay as she is from the Everis’ farm in Pensacola. I shouldn’t be here. I should be searching for Oval. The memories overwhelm her. For a moment, she thinks she’s in a vehicle with Government agents and they’ve taken her back to live with the Everis. To be a slave. To be an Unwanted.

We’re here, Mr. Gallagher says.

Georgia steps out of the car and embraces the fresh air. She looks around, and everything seems so peaceful all at once. The dogs don’t even notice her presence, and they continue to chase off the geese around the lake together. She turns around, and Patrick’s parents are already walking up the steps to their front porch.

Georgia? You coming? Patrick asks from the other side of the SUV.

You have horses?

A few, yes.

Can I see them?

Patrick turns and calls out to his parents. Dad, I’m taking Georgia to the stables real quick.

His parents wave back at them. She holds his hand as he leads her to the stables, which are about one hundred yards from the house.

So, what do you think? he asks.

It’s beautiful here. Did you grow up here?

All my life. I honestly don’t like living in the city. I much prefer the country.

Same here.

My older sister, Hannah, is a horse trainer. All the horses belong to her. She and my dad built the stables themselves, with a little help from me and my other siblings.

How many siblings do you have?

Three. All sisters. Let’s go around the side door.

Georgia sees four horses on each side. The Everis only had two. Hannah Gallagher has a variety: two American Quarters, two Standardbreds, and three black Canadians. The eighth and the one closest to her is an Appaloosa. She remembers Mr. Everi telling her about various breeds of horses. The Appaloosa is a beautiful mixture of white and black, almost like one of the zebras she had seen in zoos.

That’s Cookie. Hannah had to pay a high price to get her. Got her from a rancher in Wyoming. Of course, Cookie broke her leg six months after Hannah got her, and she’s never been the same since. Hannah didn’t want to put her down, though.

Georgia stares into the horse’s eyes and can see pain through them, but also a sense of trust. She glimpses a bucket of sugar cubes next to the door and grabs a handful and feeds them to Cookie.

Have you worked with horses before?

Yeah, she says. By now, Patrick is used to Georgia not elaborating about her past.

Can you ride?

Yeah.

You can ride a horse, but you can’t ride a bike?

Yeah.

I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Georgia.

You haven’t.

One day, you’re going to tell me about your past?

She nods. One day.

He walks over to the far corner of the barn and grabs a pair of saddles. It’s a quick ride, just long enough to remind Georgia how much she has missed it. How much she misses Autumn and Aerial. She wonders what has become of them and hopes they’re being treated well. She rides one of the Canadian blacks, Pearl, who is stronger than Autumn and Aerial. Pearl wants to run tantivy, but Georgia remembers the firm grip on the reins that Mr. Everi taught her. The horse resists at first but eventually submits into a light gallop.

After half an hour, Georgia has nearly forgotten about Patrick’s family.

I hope your family doesn’t think I’m rude. I haven’t ridden a horse in so long.

It’s fine, Patrick assures her. But I’m sure it’s almost dinner time, so we’d better go inside.

She’s never been the friend who is invited over for dinner, who is treated as just a normal girl, as an equal. She observes how differently the Gallagher family interacts compared to the Everis. It’s like there is nothing sinister underneath the surface. They’re family. His sisters are so close, Georgia can’t imagine one living without the others, but that’s exactly what would happen in the U.S. It would have been only Hannah and Patrick. His younger sisters, Sophia and Emily, either wouldn’t exist or they would be like her. They’re both in junior high school, and they look so happy—joking with each other, laughing, doing everything sisters are supposed to do. There is no one in the U.S. like them. No girl could say she had both a brother and a sister. As the oldest, Hannah appears to love her sisters but also to have outgrown their immaturity. She makes polite conversation, tells Georgia about how she bought her horses, but stays distant.

Georgia can almost imagine being part of this family, but she stops herself from thinking about it. She remembers the last time she had that thought. But the idea remains tempting. It’s almost as if life has dealt her a good hand, and now it’s asking her if she wants to fold and risk being dealt a new one. This option is good, no doubt about it. She can marry Patrick after he graduates. She can work. She’ll have a family that loves her.

The meal is so delicious, Georgia isn’t sure she could have made a better one. Mrs. Gallagher made Canada’s signature dish, poutine—French fries and cheese curds covered in gravy and topped with smoked pulled pork. It’s the best she’s tasted since she’s been here. The restaurant she works at makes it, but not nearly as good. Without even realizing what she’s doing, Georgia takes her plate into the kitchen and starts rinsing off dishes at the sink.

Oh, Georgia, you don’t have to do that, sweetie, Mrs. Gallagher intervenes. You’re our guest.

I’m sorry, she says. Force of habit, I guess.

Patrick says you work at a restaurant. You spend enough time waiting on others. Tonight, we’re waiting on you.

Sophia and Emily rush into the room.

Georgia, spend the night with us, they squeak in unison.

Oh, no, I can’t, Georgia says.

Come on, Sophia urges. It’ll be fun. We’ll watch a movie and have a sleep-over.

And we can paint your nails, adds Emily.

I’d love to, but I really can’t. I have something I need to do at my apartment.

Girls, don’t pressure her, Mrs. Gallagher says. She didn’t plan on spending the night. I’m sure there will be another time.

Of course, Georgia says. I would love to, another time.

Good. We’ll let Patrick take you home in our car, but first you must stay for dessert, so please go back and have a seat at the table, and I’ll bring it out in a moment.

Yes, ma’am.

Oh, please, call me Patti.

She nods and smiles. Her mouth refuses to open and call an adult by her first name, afraid of the pain that would follow if she had dared do such a thing when she was a child at the Unwanted facility.

—

Georgia remains silent, trapped in her thoughts, as Patrick drives her back to her apartment. She stares out her window the entire time. He wonders if he should say something but can’t find the words. They arrive downtown, and Patrick cuts through an alley and turns into a small parking lot that accesses the residents’ entrance to Georgia’s apartment. It’s a rough area of town, replete with homeless people and junkies. Patrick doesn’t like her living here, but it’s all she can afford.

What’s bothering you? he finally asks as he shuts off the engine. She doesn’t answer.

You know, ever since I asked about where we were going in our relationship, you haven’t been the same. I think you’ve been content that we haven’t put a label on this thing. While I haven’t been. That conversation didn’t go the way I expected. To be honest, after you met my parents, I was planning on asking you if you wanted to get an apartment together. I don’t like you living in this dump. I could get a part-time job, and together we could pay for some place nicer.

I don’t mind living here. There are some decent people who live here. Some of the most decent I’ve ever met.

You feel at home here?

Yes.

And you didn’t feel that way with my family?

No.

This has to do with your past, doesn’t it?

Yes.

Look, whatever you used to be, whatever you used to do, I don’t care. I don’t care if you used to do drugs or whatever.

She laughs and wipes away a tear. You have no idea about where I come from.

Then tell me.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

She opens her door and steps out.

Georgia, wait.

I’m sorry. I just need some time to think. Just do me a favor for now. Study for that exam. Make an A on it.

She closes the door as he watches her disappear through the rear entrance of the complex. She knows deep down it’s the last time they’ll ever see each other. She really liked him. Maybe she could even have loved him. But she’ll choose to keep her promise to Oval over anybody.

A man with shaggy long hair, wearing a green raincoat, sits against the wall next to the elevator, asleep as always.

Hi, Trevor, she says. His only reply is a snort and a twitch of his head. The elevator door opens, and she presses the button for the top floor. Patrick isn’t wrong about the apartment complex. It’s a dump, but it’s an honest dump. A free dump. She can come and go as she pleases. It’s better than her room at Kelly’s brothel. That room was nice and always clean, but at least here, she doesn’t have to sit on the bed every night waiting for a man to come and do things to her that she’d rather not think about. Roaches and rats aren’t the worst thing she’s ever seen in her hallway. Just before she met Patrick, one of her neighbors overdosed and collapsed just a few feet from Georgia’s front door. Georgia was the first to find the body, and she’s wondered ever since if anyone ever cared about that woman and her problems. Even Georgia hadn’t known, but that was no excuse. Since then, Georgia has been intentional about meeting the people in this building and in the neighborhood. She has a rapport with them. They all tell her they feel like she understands them. She does. More than they could know.

Tonight, the hallway is quiet. She wishes it was as loud as it usually is—the couple living next door shouting at each other at the top of their lungs; the guy with dreadlocks across from her blaring his hip-hop music as loud as he can, trying to drown out the fighting couple; whoever lives below her tapping their ceiling with a broom, believing that Georgia is the source of the commotion. She wishes she could cry into her pillow tonight and be sure no one would hear. As much as she needs someone to be there for her, she knows she doesn’t have anyone. Only one person she knows would understand, and she could be on the other side of the world.

She unlocks the door to her studio apartment. It isn’t much, but it’s all she needs. It’s what she’s had her entire life—living in one room. Except here, she has a kitchen. Everyone on the floor shares a bathroom. But the view of the city alone is worth the money. She can see the entire north end of downtown and Prince’s Island Park and even the zoo—all memories she’ll now have of Patrick and the life she could have had. She opens her blinds and stares out into the night for what feels like hours. It’s all so beautiful, she thinks.

She can’t stare any longer. She has to do something. Fate is only what will happen if she does nothing. Maybe she’s rushing out the door out of desperation. She doesn’t care. She has to find Oval. If she doesn’t find her here, she’ll move on. She still has some of the money Stanley gave her. She uses it only for travel. She just needs some idea of where to go. There’s still one place in this city she hasn’t checked, and it’s practically next door to her. She doesn’t want to find her there, but if she does, she’ll get her out. Remind her she doesn’t have to live like that. She won’t judge her. After all, Oval came to this country with no money. She was lucky to have escaped from Kelly with her passport. She left behind all the money that Boaz had meant for her to have. It was more than enough to settle down and live a quiet life. Kelly took that money away. But he couldn’t take away their freedom. Freedom is worth more than money.

The stream of blue lights—one police car after another zooming down Fifteenth Avenue—doesn’t deter her. It has taken her a long time to get used to the police. Blue lights means they found you, Oval had told her. A few hundred feet away from her, a group of teenagers scatters, ducking into alleys. She continues walking down the street. She brings enough money with her for a bribe but has no form of protection. The good news is, you don’t have to walk far to find a prostitute in this part of town. She spots a young woman on the corner of Tenth Street leaning against the wall of a closed bakery. She lights a cigarette as Georgia approaches.

Excuse me, Georgia says.

Yeah?

I was wondering if I could ask you something?

Most people do. And it’s usually pretty specific.

Georgia hesitates and becomes nervous.

I work with girls, too, if the price is right. Is that what you want to know?

No, she says, embarrassed. I used to be in your line of work.

Is that so?

I was able to get out.

Good for you. You here to tell me to do the same?

If that’s what you want.

She blows a puff of smoke in Georgia’s face. Get lost. She turns to leave.

Wait, Georgia cries. The woman stops. I’m looking for a friend. Someone who also used to be in the business, and I’m afraid she’s fallen back into it. I’m not here to judge you. I just want to find her.

She takes another puff. I’m listening.

Her name is Oval.

The woman shakes her head. Never heard that name.

Beautiful face. Long black hair. Great figure. She likes to dress casual when she’s not working. Believe me, if she were working, the men would talk about her.

Nobody around here I know of who’s that popular. Sorry, can’t help you.

I have some money. She pulls two hundred-dollar Canadian bills from her pocket. It’s about all I have right now.

The woman stares at the money for a moment but gestures for Georgia to put it away.

I can’t take it. I don’t have anything useful to tell you. If I knew something, I would tell you. I’m sorry.

Georgia pockets her money and isn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

Listen, the woman says. You better get home fast and hope someone didn’t see you pull that money out.

Georgia nods and turns to walk away but can’t help but look back.

Hey, she says. If you ever need someone to talk to, I live just down the street at Mount Royal Apartments.

The woman nods.

What’s your name? Georgia asks.

Sierra.

I’m Georgia.

Okay.

2

May 2057

Georgia decides to wait one more day before leaving. She has a paycheck waiting for her at the restaurant, plus she can earn another night’s worth of tips. Tomorrow, she’ll go to the bank and close out her account. Stanley taught her everything she needed to know about money. She opened the account with the fake IDs he had made for her. To everyone around her, she is Georgia, but to the Canadian government, her employer and her landlord, she’s Ashley Wallace. This is to make sure no one from the U.S. Government can ever find her. Before she crossed the border, Stanley told her she should forget the name Georgia and go by Ashley, but her name is the only thing she doesn’t want to leave behind. It’s the first name that was given to her, and it’s the name she’ll die with.

She told Patrick her