Free The Line Book One: Carrier by Anne Tibbets Page B

Line door, I froze. My skin went clammy. My head lifted off my shoulders as if full of helium.
    I wanted to vomit, just to release the pressure inside me.
    “I can’t do it.” I took a step backward. “I can’t. Shirel, you don’t understand what it’s like in there. What they made me do. What if they won’t let me back out?”
    Shirel set her jaw and grabbed my elbow, dragging me into the reception area. I stifled a scream.
    The same reception nurse from before sat behind her desk, the phone cord dangling from her earlobe.
    The smell of antiseptic from the infirmary, just behind the stainless steel door behind the desk, burned the inside of my nostrils.
    The humidity in the air saturated my skin.
    In the waiting area, three men in folding chairs held application tablets in their hands, trying to look as if they belonged but failing miserably.
    The sight of them loosed a whimper from my mouth.
    Perverts.
    “Evie,” Shirel reminded me. “We’re here for Evie.” She dragged me past the men and to the receptionist, who was typing like there was no tomorrow.
    My eyes found the manager’s door behind her. It was slightly ajar. Deceivingly warm light emanated from the doorjamb.
    “May I help you?” the receptionist asked, not without attitude.
    “Did a little girl just come in here?” Shirel blurted.
    The receptionist blinked. Her crisp white uniform was pressed firm and she had obviously just eaten her breakfast because she had food in her teeth. “I’m sorry?” Her eyes stayed with Shirel, and it occurred to me that she may recognize me.
    Did that matter?
    “You deaf?” Shirel spat. “I asked if a little girl just came in here asking to go on the Line.” She certainly had a way with people.
    The receptionist stiffened. “Are you a relative of this girl?”
    I snapped back to reality enough to realize where this was going. “Y-yes.”
    Shirel was confused but had the good sense to cover it quickly.
    “She’s my little sister,” I said, “and I revoke her admission. We no longer wish to sell her to the Line.”
    One of the men in the waiting area noisily dropped his application to the floor. All eyes went to him. He turned ashen. He was out the door like a shot.
    “Right, Mom?” I nudged Shirel.
    “Right,” Shirel said after a brief pause.
    The receptionist produced a black palm scanner from behind her desk. She patted the tight bun on the back of her head with her other hand. “Identification, please?”
    Shit.
    I pulled Shirel by the sleeve, moving her behind me.
    The receptionist squinted at me as I did this. Maybe she did recognize me.
    “Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” I said, eyeing the manager’s open door. “We do not wish to sell her. Please bring her out!”
    I heard the front door open and noticed that the rest of the applicants had vacated the waiting room.
    Good.
    “Without proof of identification, we cannot release any occupants of the Line to anyone ,” the nurse said. “Including people claiming to be members of her family. I’m sure you understand. It’s for the girls’ safety.”
    I scoffed.
    Shirel cleared her throat and with the slightest motion of her head, signaled we should leave.
    I had other ideas.
    I ran—around the receptionist’s desk and behind, bursting through the manager’s open door. The receptionist screamed for security, and I heard Shirel pounce on her with a growl.
    Inside the office was the good-looking man with the extra-wide smile. He was seated on his leather couch, wearing a different suit and tie. Across from him, in the overstuffed chair, sat Evie.
    The man got to his feet and was about to scurry out the door behind his desk when he recognized me and stopped.
    Evie gushed relief. “Oh, Naya. This was such a mistake!” She stood and ran to me.
    “Naya!” the man proclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
    Evie wrapped her little arms around my waist. I patted her back.
    “Did you convince Evie to come here?” he asked