Page 17 of Factory Controller

“Holy shit, really? That’s terrible. Must’ve made you tough, though.”

“Yeah, I don’t feel all that tough at the moment. Besides, the Factory school wasn’t a brutal place at all.”

It wasn’t always fun and games, but it wasn’t all bad. It was like being raised in a weird family where everyone had either Menza-level IQ level or some other amazing talent. I smile, thinking about the some of the girls I shared my room with. Julie was an amazing ballerina, Roxy could take just about anything apart and put it back together with her eyes closed. The weirdest one was Enya. I was always cautious around her; I thought she could read minds. Now I know better, she instinctively read clues no one else noticed. It was spooky.

“And when I was told this was going to be my Favor, I didn’t mind at all. I thought this assignment was for a worthy cause.”

Trent gives a non-committal grunt. I get the feeling he doesn’t agree but decided he didn’t want to argue with me. I change the subject.

“What about you, Trent? What’s your story?”

“I grew up in New Orleans, but I moved away years ago.”

“Why?”

His muscular back stiffens, and he freezes in his tracks. Trent starts walking again, not bothering to turn around when he answers.

“My parents died, too.”

He lapses into an awkward silence. I follow him for a time, stepping under vines and climbing over fallen trees. The forest is alive with sound, mostly birds and insects, but I can hear howler monkeys and the occasional sound I associate with the roar of a jaguar. I’m afraid to ask Trent if I properly identified the sound. I’m too afraid of being right.

But then, as if reading my mind he says, “Don’t worry, jaguars don’t much care for human flesh. We’re not all that nutritious, as it turns out.”

“I wasn’t worried,” I lie. “So, you traded one swamp for another, right?”

“Nah, this is totally different. Let’s take a little break.”

We pause at a fallen log beside the trail. I ease myself onto the bark and sigh as I rub my tired calves. Trent extracts a pair of water bottles from his backpack and throws me one of them.

It’s piss warm and tastes awful, but it’s wet. I suck half of it down and gasp in chagrin at the bad taste.

“Boiled river water. You get used to the taste,” he says as he stops drinking.

I shrug. “It is what it is. I’m grateful to have something to drink—”

I gasp as something moves on the log next to me. My heart leaps up into my throat. What is it? Spider? Snake? Poisonous slug?

I relax when I see a cute little big-eyed frog sitting on the log beside me. “Oh, it’s just this cute little guy.”

Trent rushes across the clearing and grabs my wrist in a painfully tight grip. He drags me to my feet, causing me to cry out in alarm and agony.

What the hell is that about?

TRENT

“Trent?” Heather’s eyes fill with shock and pain. “You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry.” I loosen my grip on her wrist, sliding my hand to clasp her own. I tug her away from the log and interpose myself between her and the dangerous creature she almost touched. “That was a poison arrow frog, Heather. If you’d touched it, the mucous could have made you really sick, or even killed you if you had an allergic reaction.”

“Oh God, I’m an idiot.” She stares at the innocuous frog with abject horror. “Yellow and black, nature’s warning colors. I should have known better.” Her gaze turns on me and narrows. “Still, you didn’t have to try and break my damn wrist saving me.”

“You were in danger and I responded.” I shrug, feeling my ire prickling back up. “What was I supposed to do? Let you get hurt or killed?”

“You didn’t have to be so rough. I wasn’t actually going to touch it, you know. I was taught from an early age that toads cause warts.”

“Really? Well, if you’d have laid hands on that frog even by accident, you’d have had a lot worse than a couple of warts…”

I let out a long sigh and feel my anger abating when I realize I’m not mad at her, I’m mad at myself. I almost failed to keep her safe. I can’t figure out why it bothers me so much that she might get hurt. I barely know her.

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