Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

money to acquire. At the
time, I’d waffled over the purchase. It wasn’t like I could use it
to send messages to people. Even if the communicator was
untraceable, the same could not be said for anyone I wanted to
comm. But the device had been useful for keeping up-to-date on
world events. For instance: UNITED’s manhunt for the Created.
    Switching the communicator on, I waited
while it found a signal. Once it was up and running, the main
screen filled with tickers scrolling news on everything from
fashion to the latest tech devices. I missed having nice clothes
and gadgets, and sometimes scanned these sites, telling myself I
needed to be up-to-date on everything when I finally made it back
home. I knew in both my heart and my mind that returning home was
not in the foreseeable future. That didn’t stop the intense longing
and incurable homesickness that were my constant companions. For
now, I searched for reports about the situation in New York,
desperate for news on Alana’s fate. It wasn’t hard to find. Every
outlet was carrying the story.
    In Manhattan it was now
midday. The standoff was going into its fifth hour. Time is running out, I
thought. UNITED’s patience would likely be wearing thin. It was
only a matter of time before they ceased negotiation attempts and
took the building by force.
    Sure enough, the
ticker—still running along the bottom of the screen as I read the
article—flashed red a moment later. My hand was shaking as I used
my thumb to tap the screen and bring up the news alert. Please let her be okay , I
prayed. Please let her get
away.
    UPDATE: UNITED agents have secured the
Embassy in Manhattan. All perpetrators, a group of Created who were
holding the building, have been captured. At this time, several
hostages are being treated for minor injuries. No fatalities have
been reported.
    Details on the mechanics of the raid were
sketchy, but the end result was all that mattered. The hostages
were safe. The rebels had been caught, and were now being taken to
an undisclosed location. When the ticker flashed red again, I took
a deep breath and tapped to see the new development.
    A press conference was about to start, live
from the scene. The camera’s view was now much tighter, and showed
only the front entrance of the UNITED Embassy and the stairs
leading up to the revolving glass doors. People milled around the
bottom of the steps, speaking quietly. A podium had been dragged
outside, directly in front of the large glass and chrome doors. The
front of the lectern was emblazoned with a seal that the Director
had shown us countless times. UNITED’s crest.
    As if on cue, the crowd silenced. The front
door open, and a woman in a tailored black suit strode confidently
across the landing to her place behind the podium. There was no
fidgeting with her hair—the tight chignon had not a strand out of
place—no clearing of her throat, nor a last-second glance through
her notes. Without wasting a single moment, she launched into her
statement. Speaking clearly and concisely, as if reading the
weather, Councilwoman Victoria Walburton decreed the fate of my
best friend.
    First she expressed her
sympathy for the families of those held by Alana and the others.
Walburton spoke of the hostages’ bravery and heroics, as if they’d
been dealing with true terrorists and not a bunch of teenagers. I
shook my head in disgust. It wasn’t like Alana or her cohorts had
killed anyone. They’d probably just told them all to stay at their
desks and not move. Still, the Councilwoman droned on and on about
what a terrible ordeal the workers had been put through, how their
lives had been in danger, and how luck had been on the hostages’
side that day, protecting them from the terrorists, intent on destroying the
powerful UNITED. What a bunch of B.S.
    Though her words were meant to elicit an
emotional reaction from the viewers, her voice lacked any true
empathy. From everything I knew of Walburton, she was