“I’m sorry.” I got the sense that I was being rude again; I only wanted to know more about them. “Do you know what started it?”
“Not what,” Cipher said darkly. “Who.”
He didn’t give me any more detail than that, and I figured I should probably stop asking questions. In the silence that followed, Gizmo said, “My prosthetics are adequate considering the materials I have to work with, but imagine a robotic limb powered by the body’s kinetic energy, made of a light-weight polymer and coated with a material that has the texture of skin with a network of electrodes that communicate sensation to the brain. So comfortable to wear that you never need to remove it.”
“Keep reaching for the stars, Gizmo,” Cipher said, now reclined with both hands behind his head, showcasing his cut torso and lean physique, including the V-shaped muscles framing his groin–those held my attention for way too long. Cipher cleared his throat. Our eyes met and he lifted one eyebrow–I’d obviously been checking him out–but thankfully, he didn’t say anything.
To avoid further embarrassment, I pointed to my hat and said, “You all should have a name. Like a team name with a mascot and colors.”
“The roosters?” Gizmo asked.
“This is a Gamecock,” I corrected.
“How about just the cocks?” Cipher said with a devilish grin.
“We should probably vote on it,” Gizmo said. “I’m not sure Artemis would appreciate that name.”
“You workshop that, Kitten, and get back to us.” Cipher rose to a sitting position and began the task of reassembling himself. I only watched him because I had nothing else to do. Finally he stood and offered me his hand. “Let’s gather up the troops and get back to camp before nightfall. I don’t want to get caught out after dark in an unfamiliar place.”
* * *
That nightafter dinner we were sitting around the campfire when Gizmo got the radio to start working again. All he could tune it to was a station that played classical music, but the sound was still so beautiful. I loved listening to music–one of the things I missed most from Before–so I moved as close to Gizmo as I could in order to hear it better. Cipher said something to me, but I missed it because his voice was too damn low and besides that, he was on my right side.
“What?” I asked.
He said something to Gizmo, who then turned off the radio. Cipher grabbed my chin and turned my head so that I was facing him.
“When were you going to tell us that you can’t hear?” he demanded. His mouth was tense, and his eyes simmered with anger.
“I can hear,” I said because I could hear, just not that well. He leaned in and whispered something to me, but I could only feel the vibrations of his voice and the warmth of his breath.
“What did I say just now?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I snapped and pushed him away. I didn’t appreciate him outing me to the rest of the group, making an example of me like this was some lesson I needed to learn.
“You can only hear in this ear.” He pointed to my left one. “All this time I thought you were ignoring me, or you had your head in the clouds.”
Everyone was listening, watching Cipher scold me like a child. “What does it matter? It’s not a big deal.”
“But itisa big deal,” he growled. “I asked you what your disabilities were, and you lied. What happens if a Rabid attacks you from this side?” He squeezed my right shoulder. “And you can’t hear them approaching? What are you going to do then?”
“I guess I’ll just get eaten.”
“Don’t be stupid. And don’t be a brat. What else do I need to know? And be honest with me this time.”
My lower lip felt thick as a slug and my eyes stung with worthless tears. I hated these questions. Even worse, I hated getting emotional in front of them. (Not very badass.) I searched the faces of my companions for help, but Gizmo seemed absorbed by the numbers on the radio dial, Teresa was petting Little Miss Purrfect, and even Artemis was blank-faced and waiting for my response. I’d like to think Macon would have stepped in if he were there.
“We need to know these things,” Artemis said to me in her calm, reassuring way, which somehow made it worse. “We’re not judging you or looking down on you. This is just how we take care of each other.”
“I have asthma,” I said, “only when the pollen is up or the dust is bad or if I exercise too hard or if I get really upset about something.”
“Do you have an inhaler?” Cipher asked, his mouth a grim line.
“No, I haven’t had one for years. Usually if I can’t get it under control, I’ll just pass out for a few minutes, then wake up when it’s over.”
“Well, that is incredibly inconvenient when attempting to run away from danger,” he snarled.
“Cipher,” Artemis warned.
