The Color of Rain Read Online Free Page A

not used to the long hours. Had it come on the same way for my mom? I couldn’t say. I was barely seven when the cops came for her, Walker clinging to my knee, and all I remembered was that when I tried to hug her good-bye, her eyes were empty.
    But I’ll never forget when they came for Jeremy.
    He wasn’t afflicted but had been caught hiding a Touched man in the basement of our apartment building. I was twelve then. Old enough to do something when they locked him in a belted jacket and hauled him away. Old enough to do something when my dad threw himself at the cops and they beat him to death in our stairwell—the sounds echoing up the flights. Crashing, screams, and pounding.
    Echoing, still.
    Still.
    I tighten my hold on the back of my little brother’s neck and rush past a crowd of sketchy men who yell slimy words.
    That night in the stairwell, Walker became my only family, and like hell will I give him up. There’s always hope. There’s always some chance. To forget that is to become one of the factory worker drones, and I won’t bow to that life.
    My dad didn’t lose hope when my mom became sick. He read poetry to her, and he held on long after she was taken, working wicked nightshifts and then still staying up all day to take us on history walks through what he called old Manhattan.
    â€œDad would be doing exactly what we’re doing. He’d get you to the Edge, to your cure, Walker,” I whisper. My dad was the one who told me about the Edge, that settlement on the other side of the known universe. And he told me about Mecs, the evolved people who live there. I remember the shining silver communicator on Johnny the Runner’s wrist. What I wouldn’t give to touch it . . . to know how and where he got it. . . .
    The Blackstar Bar is several blocks away, and getting farther with each step, but I have to see Walker home and settled first. And then, I will go to Johnny. But what will I say?
    I lead Walker around a corner—and right into a trap.
    â€œNo moving, missy,” a squat woman says. She’s the same one with the hook through her ear from earlier. Two muscle-backed men creep to surround me on either side.
    I was right: reward chasers.
    â€œNo fussing, missy. It’s got to go before it infects the rest.”
    It . She means Walker.
    I force my hand between my brother’s stiff fingers, my pulse pounding against my ears. The men get closer. They’re going to take him for the reward, and then Walker will disappear forever like the rest of the Touched.
    No way.
    I bring my brother’s thumb from between our clenched hands and wrench it back. His body stiffens with pain, but I pull harder and harder until the tendons are about to snap. Finally, my brother’s body shakes like a chill is rippling through him, but then he lifts his head. He arches his neck and then launches it forward, shooting a huge glob of saliva right into the woman’s eye. She yowls.
    â€œJust cuz he’s here and now doesn’t mean he ain’t infected,” she says as she scrubs at her cheeks.
    â€œYeah, but you can’t prove he’s Touched, so let us pass. Besides, shouldn’t you worry about being infected now?”
    Horror squashes her pudgy face, and the men step back, not just from Walker and me, but from her now as well. And I don’t miss the moment. I grab my brother’s hand and jerk us into a sprint.

    We’re on the next street before I slow. “You were great, Walk.”
    A crooked smile gives life to his pale lips. “I’m the greatest. So said Dad. Remember?”
    â€œI remember.”
    He touches his chest and arms like he just found them, still disoriented. “Those chasers been after us for a while?”
    â€œâ€˜ Have those chasers been after us?’” I correct. “And I don’t know. I only noticed them this morning.” It was a close one, but Walker is here now, and I bring