Fury: Book One of the Cure (Omnibus Edition) Read Online Free Page B

beating fast. He doesn’t know how close he has come to the truth. “Maybe it is. Maybe you should fight that urge.”
    “Josephine,” he says impatiently. “Don’t tell me you’re the last woman alive who hasn’t been brainwashed, but you believe the propaganda anyway. Because that would just be heartbreaking.”
    I don’t know what to say. Here is a man who understands. He has been cured, but he still manages to see through the bullshit. When was the last time I heard anyone call it propaganda or brainwashing? I try to remember, then realize it was in the riots of ’53. Nobody protests anymore—that all stopped when the protesters were cured.
    “I don’t believe the propaganda,” I tell him. “I don’t believe people are dangerous just because they can get angry. But in my case … things are different. I’m not … normal.”
    “I know that—you’re the only person I’ve ever met who isn’t cured.”
    “Not that. Not just that. I’m dangerous.”
    He frowns. “Why?”
    I shake my head and take another gulp of coffee. He needs to stop pulling at this thread. He’s not going to like what he unravels.
    “How did you escape it?” he presses. “It’s impossible to avoid the cure.”
    I shrug, aware that we are surrounded by drones who could alert the Bloods at any moment if they even suspect I’m uncured. “None of your business.” Truth is, I have no idea how I escaped it. Sometimes I feel like a shadow, or a memory—a creature invisible to the rest of the world. How else can I explain being ignored so thoroughly, even when it comes to the mandated injection that every citizen must receive?
    “Fine. What do you do for work?” he asks, voice abruptly light. All the noise returns to the café and we are no longer the only two people in the world. We are surrounded by busy, bustling drones going about their calm, happy lives. Luke is one of those drones, I need to remind myself. Just because he knows he’s been brainwashed, doesn’t mean he’s free of it.
    “Not much,” I reply. “I have a fake ID so I can do bar work here and there. Coffee shops. My last job was in a bookshop. That was nice.”
    “Why so many jobs?”
    “I get fired a lot.”
    He smiles. “Right. Because you’re a crazed maniac who might lose her temper at the drop of a hat.”
    My lips twitch. “They don’t know that. I’m just a crap employee.”
    Luke grins.
    “What do you do?” I ask.
    “I’m a lawyer.”
    “What kind of lawyer?”
    He shrugs. “State prosecutor.”
    I sit up straight. “Then you work with the Bloods?”
    “Sometimes.”
    One of my secrets: I envy the Bloods. I envy them their freedom, but I hate what they choose to do with it. “What are they like?” I ask.
    Luke considers carefully, absently stirring more sugar into his coffee. Lots of sugar. I watch, the action seeming out of place but I’m unsure why. “They’re colder than you’d expect,” he finally admits. “More … detached. They have all their emotions, but sometimes I think they’re more like drones than the drones are.”
    “Why?”
    “Because of what they see, I guess. Terrible things.”
    “You must see those things too.”
    “Not really. I see the aftermath. The fractured way society tries to deal with crime. But I don’t see what the Bloods do.”
    They must be like me—they must .
    “I’ll tell you a secret,” Luke says, suddenly bleak. “The cure was designed to stop the riots. All the violence after the economy collapsed. But crime has doubled in the last few years. We’re building more jails than public housing. The media is strictly controlled. Nobody can know the truth.”
    I swallow, my heartbeat jacked right up. “So why are you telling me?”
    He smiles without any humour. This isn’t the gorgeous smile I saw this morning. This is infinitely dark. There are a thousand secrets behind his eyes, all the ghosts of the things he has seen. “Maybe I’m hoping someone will hear.”
    My mouth