TWENTY-SEVEN
With Hanson and the others well known to many of the humans living in Brimfield, Hannah knew she was the logical choice to go aboveground and gather more supplies. Convincing the stubborn half-breed who had designated himself as leader of their small group was easier said than done.
‘You can’t go,’ she said to Hanson. ‘Councillor Dillon has your face plastered on every street corner, and Leon and the rest of the guys all have the tattoos that mark them as half-breeds. I don’t have a tattoo, and no one in Brimfield knows what I look like.’ She had spent the first twenty-six years of her life sequestered away in the Brimfield Ward. Since then, she had been to Harlington, and then the mine compound, but no one from Brimfield had ever seen her face.
‘It’s too dangerous. Some of
