Contaminated by Em Garner
Publication: July 23, 2013
By: EgmontUSA
"Relentlessly horrifying... a bone-chilling, riveting debut." (Ann Aguirre, USA Today best-selling author) Gritty and grabbing, Contaminated is a harrowing, emotionally charged dystopic venture into YA.
After
the Contamination - an epidemic caused by the super-trendy diet drink
SlimPro that turned ordinary citizens into shambling creatures unable to
control their violent impulses - the government rounded up the
"Connies" to protect the remaining population. But now, two years later,
the government's started sending the rehabilitated back home, complete
with shock collars that will either stop the Connies from committing
violent acts or kill them before they do any further harm.
Since
her parents were taken in the roundup, Velvet Ellis has struggled to
care for her ten-year-old sister and maintain a sense of normalcy,
despite brutal government rations and curfews. She goes to the "Kennels"
every day searching for her parents, and when she finds her mother,
she's eager to bring her home. Maybe, eventually, they'll be able to get
back to the way things were before. But even though it seems that her
mother is getting better (something that the government says is
impossible), there will be no happy transition. Anti-Connie sentiment is
high, and rumor has it that an even worse wave of the Contamination is
imminent. And then the government declares that the Connies will be
rounded up and neutralized, once and for all.
Sacrificing
everything - her boyfriend, her home, and her job - Velvet will do
anything to protect her mother. Velvet has to get the collar off her
mother before the military comes to take her away. Even if it means
risking all of their lives.
Excerpt
"It's
going to be a little overwhelming for you, Velvet. Be ready for that."
"I
think I am."
Jean pauses
to study me. "No, hon. I don't think you really are. I know you've been
brave and strong. I can tell you're a good kid. Responsible. But this isn't
like anything you've ever done."
She knows
where I work because I had to write it all down, so I study her right back.
"I can change a diaper, I'm okay with it."
“It's more
to it than that,” Jean says, then hesitates before saying, “she'll need help
with so much. Eating. Bathing.”
I think about them in the cages, eating dog treats and covered in
filth. “But...sometimes...they get better, right? I mean on their own.”
Jean shakes
her head. “You shouldn't get your hopes up.”
“But they
do,” I say
stubbornly. “Like people who've had brain injuries can re-learn stuff. They can get better.”
“And
sometimes,” Jean says gently, “they keep getting worse.”
I'm silent. Jean
shakes her head a little softly. She takes out a business card, scribbles
something on the back, passes it to me. "That's my home number. Call me if
you need to talk about anything, hon. Okay?"
I push the
card into my pocket. "Are you just trying to get me to go out with your
son?"
Jean laughs.
"Maybe. He could use some friends his own age. But...really, hon. Call. If
you need to talk, okay?"
"Thanks."
I take a deep breath and stand, gripping the tote bag. "Can I take her
home, now?"
"Sure.
I had Leslie taking care of her. Getting her all ready."
This time,
Jean doesn't take me down the hall to the kennels. She takes me to a bright,
clean room with lots of exam tables and instruments. The smell of disinfectant
is strong, but here it's a clean smell.
Inside,
sitting on the edge of one of the tables, is my mom.
They've cut
her hair shorter to just below her shoulders in a style that would be smoother
if she hadn't been running her hands through it. Still, it's clean. So are her
face and body, from what I can see. Her clothes are clean, if a little too big
and mismatched. She's not wearing the daisy blouse.
"Here
we are." Leslie is a short woman with dark curly hair and glasses. She
takes my mom's hand to help her down from the table. "C'mon, honey. It's
time to go."
I've been
taller than my mom since I was in seventh grade, but it's still strange for me
to look her in the eye instead of having to stare up. She's looking at me, her
face blank. She has a scar over one eyebrow she never had before.
"What's
that from? Can you tell me? Is it from the surgery?"
"Oh,
no. That's from something that happened before they brought her in. I can check
the records, if you like, but they should be in her file that Jean gave
you."
"It's
okay. It's not important. Hi, Mom." I'll check at home. Right now, I'm
looking her over.
You can't
see the electrodes, or the scars from where they put them in, unless you're
looking in just the right spot. The collar, on the other hand, is impossible to
miss.
My mom says
nothing. She's looking at me, but not like she sees me. More like she's just
staring at nothing. Just like that little boy. Tyler, I think. He has a name.
"Are
you ready, hon? You have everything you need at home?"
I heft the
tote bag. "I think so. Yeah."
"Fine.
Then you're ready to go."
I hold out
the coat I brought for my mom to wear, and the gloves. They'll cover up the
restraints Leslie shows me how to slip onto my mom's thin wrists. She doesn't
even wince when we pull them tight, bringing her hands together so close she
can't possibly use them for anything.
At the door,
Jean stops me. "Are you sure, hon? This is a huge, huge responsibility.
And nobody says you have to take her. You're not required."
"She's
my mom." It's the only answer I can give.
Jean nods.
She hugs me before I can stop her, and I'm surprised but I don't pull away.
Beside us, my mom stands quietly, looking off into the distance. Jean lets me
go and holds my face for a second or two in her hands while she looks into my
eyes.
"You be
safe, now. You take care."
"I
will."
Outside,
it's getting dark and colder. February in Pennsylvania can get pretty frigid,
and the cold seems worse after the two boiling summers we've had in a row. My
mom walks a step behind me, kicking my heels, until I step to one side and link
my arms through hers.
"Schlemiel,
schlemazel," I say, but of course she doesn't answer me with the line from
one of her favorite childhood shows, the one she has all the DVDs of. No
"Hassenpfeffer Incorporated." No nothing but the sound of her
breathing and her boots crunching on the salt someone was smart enough to put
down on the sidewalk.
We wait at
the bus stop. The bus is late. We're the only ones waiting. I don't talk. I
guess there's nothing to say.
The bus
pulls up to the stop, and I press my mom forward. Deke, the bus driver who's
seen me a thousand times, frowns and gets out of his seat.
"Whoa,
whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. You can't bring that on here."
"What?"
My mom's up one step but I'm halfway in and out of the door. The heat from the
bus is blasting my front, but my back's still freezing. "What do you mean?
The tote?"
"No.
It. That." He jerks a thumb at my mom's face. She doesn't even flinch.
"This
is my mother." I push her forward. She goes another step. Deke doesn't get
out of the way, and when I step up, it's too crowded for comfort there in the
stairwell.
"No.
That's a Connie. You can't bring it on the bus. Take it off."
"She's
neutralized, she's got a collar –"
"I said
no!" Deke's face turns ugly. "Get it off my bus! I decide who rides
the bus! And it's not getting on!"
Then he
pushes her, which pushes me. I'm too surprised to push back. I fall out of the
bus. My mom steps back, one of her boots landing on my hand. The tote bag goes
sprawling, dumping the contents into the dirty snow.
"Off
the bus!" Deke shouts. I can't believe it, but he comes out and pushes her
back again. He looks down at me. "Don't you ever try to bring that on the
bus again, you hear me?"
Then he gets
back on the bus, closes the door, and drives away, leaving us on the street in
the dark and the cold.
About the Author
Em Garner writes books.
Now
Em spends most of her time in front of her computer, writing away at
all the ideas she has swirling around in her head and hoping she can get
them into a story before she forgets them.
She loves zombies, unicorns, and rainbows, the color purple and the smell of roses. She hates the smell of lilies, the feeling of corduroy and biting sandpaper. (Well. Who doesn’t?)
She loves zombies, unicorns, and rainbows, the color purple and the smell of roses. She hates the smell of lilies, the feeling of corduroy and biting sandpaper. (Well. Who doesn’t?)
She
lives at the beach with her family, where she spends a lot of time
reading and sticking her feet in the sand. She is afraid of sharks, but
that doesn’t stop her from going in the water.
GIVEAWAY
1 Signed copy of CONTAMINATED by Em Garner
International
Must be 13 years old to enter.
Comments
Post a Comment