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  PRAISE FOR THE ORDINARY SERIES

  “...fast-paced with thrilling action sequences and plenty of suspense...” 5-Stars ~ Literary Portals

  “It was a perfect balance of serious and sweet—and to top it off, it delivers everything it hints at!” 5-Stars ~ Feather Tone Reviews

  “...loving this book as much, if not more than, the first book.” 5-Stars ~ Feather Tone Reviews

  “It will keep you hooked on the edge of your seat rooting for Ugene the whole way.” 5-Stars ~ The Avid Reader

  “…one of those books that I genuinely struggled to put down and couldn't stop thinking about…” 5-Stars ~ Amazon Reviewer

  Unique

  STARR Z. DAVIES

  PANGEA BOOKS

  Copyright © 2020 by Starr Z. Davies.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Starr @ Pangea Books

  www.pangeabook.online

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2020 Pangea Books

  Cover Design by Shashika Designs

  Unique / Starr Z. Davies. -- 1st ed.

  1] Survival Fiction 2] Superheroes 3] Post-apocalyptic 4] Coming of Age

  Print ISBN 978-0-578-62554-6

  UNIQUE | noun | u·nique : distinguishable from all others in its class, the only specimen of its kind, of a person with remarkable or extraordinary features.

  Part One

  “The Directorate is proud to partner with Paragon as it releases a groundbreaking vaccination, IVD Veritax. Elpis is still in danger. Regression remains a serious threat to our security. But with IVD Veritax, we can work toward eliminating that danger. The partnership will present the citizens of Elpis with opportunity as we have never seen before—a way to help boost the Powers of regressing citizens and take us toward a better, brighter future.”

  ~ Directorate Chief Seaduss

  4:45 pm - Two Days Ago

  1

  This isn’t what I wanted. I wanted to do the right thing, to help people, but now I can’t help but question just what the right thing is.

  I’ve lied.

  I’ve broken promises.

  I’ve failed more people than I would like to count—though I could, and the number would be too many.

  And for what?

  This isn’t freedom.

  2

  The clean, crisp scent of earth and stone fills the small room I’ve been living in for what I can only assume to be days. I haven’t felt the warmth of the sun or watched the stars for so long and I yearn for their comfort. Occasionally, I catch a whiff of rotten eggs, but the smell is so fleeting and rare I’m not certain if it’s real.

  Where am I? This is a prison. Did we even escape Paragon? Maybe this is all part of the same simulation, giving us hope then isolating us to see how we react.

  Since waking up here, I’ve only spoken to two people. A woman who told me through the door in a very reassuring tone that I would be released soon. They simply had to make sure that everyone was safe, and with so many people it could take a while. I asked her a million other questions, but she didn’t answer any of them. Instead, she offered the same assurances that all would be revealed soon.

  The second person is the guy who delivers the meals. But he doesn’t say any more than, “It won’t be much longer.” Sometimes, I swear I can hear the sympathy in his voice. Am I imagining it?

  The last thing I remember is that we escaped Paragon and I followed the address Mom gave me to Lettuce Eat, where for nearly two days Harvey gave us food and a place to rest while he arranged our escort to safety. Those of us who remained—forty-two of us out of more than one hundred—climbed into the back of a cold transport truck on the second day. Harvey reassured us that we were being taken to a safer location and that my mom would meet with me soon.

  But then I woke up here, in this cell. Alone.

  Did he sell us out to Paragon?

  Or maybe none of it actually happened.

  I lay on my single bed, atop worn flannel sheets, and run my fingers along the smooth gray stone walls of the cell, carved out with Powered hands. The bed and a toilet are the only furnishings. The door is made of reinforced steel with a small window revealing a brightly lit stone hallway and a panel in the center of the door where the food comes in. More than once, I’ve tried forcing it open by pushing on it, or digging at the cracks until my fingers ache. It never budges.

  Projecting in a small square on the wall, the Elpis News is the only station—a station Bianca’s dad operates. The famous newscaster, Elpida Theus’s, smooth, sand-colored face and perfectly styled golden hair is my primary source of contact with any form of life. Paragon has already rebuilt the destroyed lower levels of the tower to operational status, and they have called the “released” subjects to return. Not that anyone will. We are either locked in this place or too scared to risk returning.

  “Daily operations are returning to normal,” Elpida reports from the lobby of the building, which is still under construction.

  Other reports, released by Directorate Chief Seaduss, remind the citizens that regression is a looming threat and that the eastern boroughs, particularly Pax, have seen a significant spike in crime and terrorist activity. Are the reports real? Can I trust that any of this is real?

  It’s exhausting, and these questions often put me to sleep.

  When I sleep, I have nightmares about Dad, Bianca, and Celeste dying all over again. The other test subjects who once counted on me to get them to safety now crowd around me en masse, calling me a failure, a fraud, a worthless traitor. Of all the wounds I’ve sustained since arriving at Paragon, I have learned that words are the most cutting of all—and they take so much longer to heal.

  My waking hours are plagued with worry about those who escaped with me and made it to Harvey’s place. Where is everyone? Where am I? So many questions tumble through my head that I try making a list, but as the days blend together that list begins to muddle, and I have nothing on which to write my thoughts. I can’t decide what’s real anymore.

  Why did my mom send me here? Where is here?

  Not for the first time, I try to reach out with my mind and see if Madison is out there somewhere. Not that I can use Telepathy, but my hope is that, if she can sense me reaching out, she will find a way to connect.

  And not for the first time, nothing comes back. All my life, I’d been isolated in a crowd of people and I couldn’t imagine anything worse.

  Now I can.

  3

  The whoosh of the door opening stirs me. I roll over on the bed just in time to see the door disappear into the wall. Fear makes my muscles tense, ready to act. Maybe, if I’m fast enough, I can get out of the room. But the man who walks through is huge, with wide shoulders and a neck thicker than my thighs. Clearly a Strongarm. Any hope of getting past him quickly evaporates.

  “Ugene Powers?” he asks, his voice deep.

  My fingers wrap around the edge of the bed, heart pounding. I nod.

  “Follow me,” he says. “And don’t try to run. You won’t get far.”

  An overwhelming ne
ed for human interaction pushes me to my feet, paired with the fear that he would leave, and the door would close again. I follow close to him—probably closer than he would like—as he escorts me down a set of metal steps to the next level.

  He gazes at me from the corner of his eyes as we descend. “We don’t mean you harm. All of this is just standard safety protocol.”

  Safety. What a joke. I’ve been locked in that room for days. I know exactly what he can do with his safety precaution.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, struggling to keep up with his faster strides. It’s been a few days since I’ve done much more than pace the cell.

  He doesn’t answer. The guy is like a brick wall, but I really want him to engage somehow in conversation. No one has talked to me in days.

  We stop at an arching stone doorway and he waves me in. Unlike the cell I’ve been in for the last few days, this room is far more comfortable. A worn-out, patchwork-repaired sofa rests against one wall, and beside it, a mismatched chair.

  This is definitely not Paragon.

  The only light in the room comes from the three lamps. One between the sofa and chair, one in a far corner, and one on the desk against the opposite corner. A woman with blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail perches on the edge of the desk, facing the room. We lock gazes, and something about her teases my memory.

  “Do I know you?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, making the straight tail wag. “Willow Barnes. I highly doubt we’ve met before. I would remember you, Ugene.”

  Not really sure what that means.

  Willow hops off the desk and approaches, holding out her hand. The moment she moves I see the slender, older man sitting behind the desk, frowning at an old computer as he scrolls through the contents. His white coat is wrinkled. He can’t be much older than my dad, but his sandy hair is peppered with silver.

  The memory of Dad makes me freeze, chest clenching.

  Willow takes her hand back. “Okay.” Her gaze follows mine to the older man. “That’s Doc. He looks after all of us.”

  “All of who? Who are you? Where are we?”

  “Have a seat, Ugene,” Willow says, motioning to the sofa.

  It doesn’t feel like a request, so I obey and move to sit on the sofa. It’s a little lumpy, but still more comfortable than my bed. Willow perches on the edge of the chair, resting her forearms on her knees.

  “You have a lot of questions, I’m sure,” she says.

  “Understatement of the year,” I mumble, glancing again at the old Doc. Even he seems familiar.

  “I want to explain a little bit about where you are before we get into your questions,” Willow says, drawing my attention back to her. “We call this place The Shield.”

  I can’t help but snort. Confinement has made my cynicism a touch sharp.

  “It exists in a secure location outside of Elpis, away from the prying eyes of the Directorate,” she continues as if nothing is out of the ordinary. “Doc and I make a point of collecting people the Directorate targets and offering them a safe space to live. When Harvey contacted us about your group, we jumped at the chance to help you.”

  “Wait, help? Is that what you call this?” I wave around the room, though it isn’t the cell I’m used to.

  “I understand why you would distrust us, Mr. Powers,” she says calmly. “But I can assure you if we hadn’t helped you would be back in Paragon already.”

  “It’s Ugene, not Mr. Powers.” Reminds me too much of my dad.

  “Ugene.” She nods. “My job, along with Chase, the man who escorted you, is to make sure everyone inside The Shield is protected. Doc oversees research and the medical team.”

  I flinch back when she says research. Willow notices.

  “It isn’t what you think,” she reassures me. “Our research is more about what Paragon and the Directorate are up to, deciphering their plans. That sort of thing. We won’t ever subject you to any form of testing and everything you do here is completely voluntary. Though we would love it if everyone found some way to pitch in to help The Shield operate more smoothly.”

  Voluntary. I want to believe her but being locked in a cell doesn’t really leave me with a feeling of comfort.

  “Why did you lock us all up? And how did we even get here?”

  “I know the last thing you wanted was to be put into another cell, but we had no choice,” Willow says. “We needed to assess each of you individually against the potential risk you could pose to the safety of the people living here. It’s just how things are done. Everyone goes through the same process.”

  Somehow, none of this is reassuring.

  “As far as how you arrived at The Shield, we took extra safety precautions with a group your size. To protect everyone here, we must make sure that new members don’t know where we are located. So we used sleeping gas once you were all safely in the transport truck.”

  “Afraid one of us is a spy or something?” My words drip with sarcasm, and I’m not sure if I mean them to or not.

  Willow’s lips thin into a line, and she straightens.

  My eyes widen. “You are.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time,” she says, and I can hear the anger simmering in her voice. “And yes, we do have reason to believe that someone in your group is a spy from Paragon, working with the Directorate. I trust I can tell you this, based on what others have told me about you. They see you as their leader.”

  I grimace. I would like to say they can trust everyone who escaped, but honestly, I only know a handful of them.

  “Why would a spy be sent here?” I ask.

  “The Directorate has been hunting us down for years,” Doc says. “We don’t agree with most of their policies, which makes us a threat.”

  “So, we aren’t in Elpis,” I say, trying to piece some of this together. “But I thought we couldn’t exist outside the city.”

  “That’s what the Directorate would like you to believe,” Doc says. “But as you can see, we’re doing just fine.”

  Just another Directorate scare tactic. Figures. “Well, I don’t see, actually,” I say, feeling the heat of days of anger building. “I’ve been locked in a cell like a prisoner. Why should I believe you?”

  Willow heaves a sigh and scrubs a hand over her face, gazing at Doc. He doesn’t seem to notice, so she turns her attention back to me. The tension in her shoulders is obvious.

  “We are sorry about the conditions,” she finally says. “It doesn’t usually take more than a day or two for intake, but there are so many of you, and not everyone has been…compliant.”

  I wince. “Don’t say that word.”

  “What…compliant? Why?”

  “If you had any idea what we’ve been through, what Paragon put us through during their trials, you’d understand.”

  “We do know what you’ve been through—I know what you’ve been through.” Willow scratches at her arm, and I notice a small incision scar. “I was in there just like you. I would have died in there if it hadn’t been for Doc.” She shifts, raising her chin up as she does. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I know you are the one who led the others out of Paragon. We are prepared to release you to your quarters if you can answer a few questions for us.”

  Every part of me wants to resist. This feels an awful lot like being used again. Same problem, different devil. But do I really have a choice?

  I nod.

  “How did you escape?” Willow asks.

  “If you talked to the others, you already know,” I answer, but Willow crosses her arms and I wonder if the others did tell her anything. “Didn’t anyone else explain it?”

  “Sort of,” Willow says. “Most of them couldn’t really explain what happened. Just that they followed your lead. Impressive, since half of them couldn’t even tell me your name, and the half who could, wouldn’t tell me anything else about you.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. Good to know I’m not the only one who doesn’t trust
these people.

  “So? How did you do it?”

  “You don’t need Powers to have brains,” I say, quoting my old biology teacher, Mr. Springer.

  Willow raises her brows impatiently.

  I huff out a sigh. “We found a weak spot in the system. A window that allowed us to get out of the simulation into one of their PSECT rooms. From there it was just a matter of getting out of the building. We lost a lot of people to their guards on the way out.”

  “Do you know how we can access one of these PSECT rooms?”

  I shake my head. “Not exactly. I could probably show you where it is on a map of the building, but…” Grief clenches my throat. “But Bianca was the one who accessed it.”

  Willow glances at Doc, who consults the computer, then shakes his head. Willow turns her attention back to me. “Where is she now?”

  My jaw twitches and I struggle to pull the word to the surface. It comes out as a croak. “Dead.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Is she serious? Anger burns through my veins, and every muscle in my body tenses almost painfully. I clench my hands into fists. My voice takes on a dangerous edge. “I held her in my arms when she took her last breath. So yeah. I’m sure.”

  “I’m sorry,” Willow says, but the apology feels stale to me. “Do you know why Paragon was interested in you?”

  My back stiffens. “Yes.”

  Willow doesn’t say anything else. Her blue eyes pierce me, waiting for me to say more.

  Will they use me as Paragon did? Why do they want to know? “I know exactly why Paragon is interested in me.” I want to flee, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m just as trapped as I was in Paragon. Instead, I pace the rug. “I’m…unique.” God, I hate that word. “I have no Powers. None at all. And they used my test results and blood and spinal fluid as a base against other subjects so they could find a way to enhance Powers. They used other subjects; expendables they could inject with a serum that killed them.”

  Willow blocks my path. Is that excitement in her eyes? “Do you have proof of this?”