The Forgotten Ones Read Online Free PDF

back to the main facility.”
    “Tell me where, Rex.”
    Only now does it seem to dawn on him exactly how much he’s said and what the consequences of that could be. Revealing the secret goes against all of his training, against everything in the Good Book. His voice wavers a little, but he tells me anyway. “New York,” he says. “A place called Plum Island.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    “ NICE CITY ,” REX REMARKS, HIS TONE HEAVY with sarcasm as we set eyes on the town. “This was all totally worth it.”
    It’s been a long day for all of us. After trying and failing to find a working vehicle anywhere on the grounds of the base, we’d had no other choice but to cajole Dust into carrying us. On his back. As a donkey.
    He’d brayed and stomped his feet as first Rex and then I had climbed on top of him, but he’d done it, and after hours of trudging we were finally here. As civilization goes, the town we finally stumbled upon is a step up from the ruins of Dulce Base, but only barely. It’s dusty and run-down, and half the storefronts on Main Street are boarded up. The other half are just weird, junk shops and drugstores that look like they haven’t changed their window displays in about thirty years.
    Still, there are paved roads, cars and working streetlights.
    Not to mention hot food. When we make it to the center of town I can’t help stopping outside Celia’s Café and peering in the window to stare at people sitting in booths, looking happy as they chow down on hamburgers and pancakes and eggs and bacon. I can practically feel my mouth watering. After living on whatever canned and boxed and wrapped food we could scrounge up from the guard station’s lockers and the base’s remains, the thought of a real, proper meal is enough to make me drool.
    Rex reaches for the door of the restaurant but I grab him by the shoulder. “Later.”
    He makes a sour face, but drops the door handle. He knows as well as I do that we don’t have any money to pay for a meal. Food can wait. The first thing we need is cash. I’m still standing on the sidewalk, wondering how feasible it would be to rob a bank, when a stout, middle-aged couple exits the diner and brushes past me. They continue on down the street, and I watch as a skinny young guy carrying a tattered gray backpack bumps into the husband—and swipes his wallet.
    It happens so fast that I almost can’t believe what I saw. For a second I consider running after the pickpocket, taking the wallet away from him and returning it to the couple.
    But Rex has a different idea.
    “We need money, right?” he asks, his eyes following the pickpocket, who’s now strolling down the street, the very picture of nonchalance. “Follow him, but not too close. We don’t want him seeing us.”
    I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I nod, and together we start after the pickpocket. Whatever he has in mind, I hope it works.
    The criminal works hard, I’ll give him that. From what I can see he swipes three more wallets and two purses over the course of the next hour, stuffing everything into his bag without pausing for a second. Somehow he never doubles back, never walks the same street twice.
    At one point I spot a cop car, but the thief spots it too, and lays low until he’s well out of sight. This guy’s obviously a pro.
    After the cops are gone and the guy’s just swiped his second purse, Rex nudges me. “Get ready.” He crosses the street, picks up the pace to get a block ahead of our prey and then cuts back over and starts heading towards me.
    There’s an alley up ahead, and Rex times it perfectly—he’s just passing the pickpocket on the outside when they both reach the alley, and with a quick shove he sends the smaller guy tumbling sideways—right into the alley and temporarily out of sight. Or at leastas close as we can manage. I hurry to catch up.
    The thief doesn’t waste any time complaining, or asking what we want, or anything like that. Instead he bolts for the