Chapter 28 · The Hard Copy

"Don't move," Thad says, and the blade's already under my jaw before I finish reading the screen.

The monitor's gone from red to blue. Four words sitting there in block letters: COUSIN LOT — FOURTEEN NAMES. Under it, a column. Weights. Ages. Notes in someone's ugly handwriting. Third from the bottom: PELL, I. — LUNGS, CLEAN, NO SCARRING.

That's me. That's a price tag with my name on it.

"Where'd you get that code," Thad says. He's got Calder's jaw, Calder's height, none of Calder's patience. The knife tilts and I feel the metal find the pulse point, cold enough to burn, cold enough that my whole neck goes stiff trying not to swallow.

"Ask your cousin," I say. My voice doesn't shake. I make sure of that.

"I'm asking you."

"Thad." Calder's voice comes from the hatch, flat, and I don't look away from the knife long enough to see his face. "Back off her."

"She's reading the manifest, Cal. She's reading her own lot number."

"I said back off."

The blade doesn't move. Neither does Thad. "You've been feeding her the dock code piece by piece. I watched the log.