Unity Read Online Free Page A

help Daniel.” Then he’s off, pack over his shoulder like it’s the first day of school.
    I turn toward the front of the transport and take a few steps before coming across another set of dangling arms. That’s four, Daniel, I think. An even 40%, which is close enough to 37%.
    I nearly scream when the blonde Support girl steps into the dull sphere of light around the glowstick still embedded in the floor behind me. She’s got another girl, unconscious, in her arms. The girl’s body is as limp as the dead, but her small chest is rising and falling.
    “Let’s go,” the Support girl says.
    I shake my head. “There should be one more.”
    “That would be Owen,” she says, and I think the tone of her voice is meant to remind me that while I don’t really know anyone on this transport, she considers them friends, whom she would never leave behind unless there was no choice. Owen, it would seem, is dead, too.
    Fifty percent, Daniel. My anger is squelched by the knowledge that it could have been one hundred percent.
    I’m about to lead the way to the back of the transport when the blonde says, “Get our go-packs.”
    “We don’t even know what’s in them,” I say, my reaction born from a strong sense of don’t-tell-me-what-to-do.
    “Rations, survival gear, clothing.” Before I can ask, she lifts the girl up so I can see her Support brand, like it’s supposed to mean something. Then she squints at me. “How long have you been with Unity?”
    “Three weeks.”
    She deflates a little.
    “How long have you been with Unity?” I ask.
    “Three months.” She motions to the girl in her arms. “This is Mandi. She’s been with Unity for a year. My name is Gwen, and if you need my assistance, I’ll be—”
    “I got this,” I say. I step around her and pull a go-pack out, my rapid action fueled by my embarrassment over being kept in the dark. When I turn for the next bag, I see that Gwen hasn’t left my side.
    “That they put you in the field after three weeks says a lot for your strength of will. It means they think you can handle this.” Her confidence wavers a little. “Whatever this is.”
    At least she doesn’t know everything.
    “I’ll meet you at the back,” I say. She nods and leaves, and I go back to collecting go-packs. They’re a little smaller than standard school backpacks—jet black, and packed tight. Each weighs about three pounds. With my left arm loaded with four packs, I work up the nerve to steal two more from the dead, but that’s all I can manage. I head toward the back, pausing for a moment to recover my own mystery go-pack, which I notice weighs three times as much as the others.
    “C’mon,” Gwen says, as I approach the still-closed back hatch. I’m about to lose my patience again, when I realize she’s not talking to me. She’s talking to Daniel, who is straining to turn the handle of a lock, high above his head. It looks like something he might struggle to do normally, but with the transport upside down, the mechanism is nearly out of his reach. He doesn’t have the leverage to turn it.
    I approach the scene, lit in dull green, and I hand two of the go-packs to Gizmo. When he takes them, I hand over another two to Daniel. He already has his around his shoulders, but he has no trouble with another two. I put the last two by my feet and mine on my back. “We’re upside down, so the hatch is going to open up, not down, and there’s a chance it won’t stay open, once it’s up. Don’t hang around to have a conversation.”
    I take their lack of audible replies to be compliance, and then I take hold of the lever Daniel couldn’t move. I give it a tug, and when it doesn’t budge, I pull myself up, clinging to the handle like a monkey bar. I place my feet against one of two metal rails stretching down the hatch. Pushing with my legs and pulling with my torso and arms, the lever slides ten inches and then clunks into place.
    When I release the handle and drop to my