The Slave Series Page 6

  Dangerous doesn’t feel like a big enough word. Deadly. Suicidal. Futile. I don’t know the details yet, but anything involving the Council is on an entirely different level than dangerous.

  But what if I say no? If I say no, and they have no choice but to do this thing—whatever it is—they will be forced to ask someone else. Am I willing to pass the risk on to another Worker? I wonder if I could live with myself if that other person died, and I chose to stay safe—with my mattress and warm shower and cans of food.

  So now I’m pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes and waging a mental war against myself. Edan chose me. For some reason, he thinks I can do this. He thinks I’m the one who is capable of helping. I drop my hands and stand frozen while the blur over my vision subsides, and my thoughts narrow to a final decision. I look at the faces of the men in this room. They’re trying to save us. That’s what they’ve said. If this thing they need will make that possible…

  “But it’s important…” I say, looking up to meet Solomon’s eyes. He smiles, nodding his head. Cash is staring at the ceiling, jaw tight. Takeshi grins. Edan is watching me with an expression that looks like admiration, but that can’t be right. I am no one to admire.

  “Yes,” Solomon says quietly. “Yes, it is very important.”

  Breathe, Hannah, my father would say. In the nose. Out the mouth. That’s right. Remember, he would tell me, they need us.

  “I’ll do it.”

  10

  “They haven’t been forgotten. Certainly not by me.” That is the only response I get from Solomon when I ask what will be done for the thousands of Workers still running the factories. Many suffered bullet wounds, were crudely patched, and sent back to work. Only about half escaped, some through death. Solomon has just finished explaining these things to me.

  The subject is swiftly changed. We lean over the map, and Takeshi points to a pharmaceutical factory several miles to the west, in a section of the valley I’ve never been to. The map shows the valley in a way I’ve never seen before, with defined boundaries and clusters of factories categorized by a color code. It is broken into four simple corners.

  North, South, East, West.

  Within those main corners are smaller sectors, defined by what they primarily manufacture. My sector, where I lived the entirety of my life to date, is outlined in blue and labeled: Beauty. The sector we are in now is outlined in red and simply labeled: Attire, with a crudely sketched star marking this factory.

  “But I’ve never worked there,” I say, touching the pharmaceutical factory. For a fleeting second, I’m distracted by how clean my fingers are. Even in just a matter of days, the thick skin around my nails has begun to soften. I shift back to the factory. It rests in a green outlined sector, which is labeled: Health. “How can I just walk up and scan my print? And I’ve been absent for days.”

  “We’ll take care of that on this end,” Takeshi says. “Our tech guy knows how to input your information into the Council’s system. The only catch is we can’t do it early. After a time—twenty minutes, maybe twenty-five—they will detect it.”

  “And when they do?”

  Cash shifts his weight where he’s leaning both palms into the table. He doesn’t look up. “We’ll be out before they do.”

  I want to believe that, but the sinking feeling hasn’t left me. Solomon told me the purpose of this mission. The Council has a medicine that the Resistance—that’s what he called us—needs desperately. I don’t remember seeing any sick Workers, beyond the usual cough and throat and heart problems. But an epidemic, that I’ve not seen. I remember when I was younger, and a virus wiped out many of us. I remember the sunken, shadowy eyes on Workers, who would soon after disappear. They never came back to work, dying feverish deaths alone in their units. I know it was bad, because the Outcasts caught it too. It was summer and the fevers were high and the stench was too much. My fingers grab fistfuls of my shirt near the hem, remembering the rolling in my stomach; the days I’d breathe into a mask and hope it was enough to protect me. Maybe I don’t know about it yet, but an illness has begun to spread. Maybe we are all in danger of catching it, cooped up together in the sleeping quarters. The idea nauseates me. We are trapped together in this factory, hiding from the Council who will kill us, and we might just die anyway.

  “Hey,” Edan whispers, leaning close, touching a hand to my back. “You okay?”

  I blink a few times, bringing my focus back to the room. I pull in a quiet breath through my nose, filling my lungs, then push it out slow. I nod.

  “Yeah…yes,” I whisper back, trying to sound convincing. I don’t want Solomon doubting me now that he’s shared need to know information with me. Edan gives me a small, worried smile and turns back to listening to Solomon, his hand sliding off my back. As soon as his attention is gone, worry blossoms in my stomach again. I stare at the floor.

  “Hannah?”

  I jerk my face up, meeting Solomon’s drawn in eyebrows. He watches me like I’ve done something that concerns him. Maybe he sees that I’m white as a ghost and trembling, clenching my hands together in front of me trying to hide it.

  “Yes?” I say. “Sir…” I add as an afterthought. Seems appropriate.

  “I was saying that we will begin walking through the plan step by step, turn by turn. Are you ready?”

  I take a step forward toward the table, touching the edge with my fingers. I look between the faces. The Watcher faces. The faces of men who would have killed me for being too incapacitated. I’m refusing images of my sick mother and tightening my jaw as I nod. Maybe these men wouldn’t have killed me. Maybe that’s why they’re here, because they refused. Edan I can easily imagine. Takeshi—I’m still not sure if he was a Watcher. When I encountered him a few days ago, he looked like a Worker. But Cash…he looks every bit the part. I look at him the shortest. He makes me uneasy.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m ready.”

  Takeshi takes the lead, tracing a path on the map. We’ll work our way through the southern corner, which is completely occupied by the Resistance. From there we enter the western corner. The pharmaceutical factory is half a mile in. I will absorb into the crowd of remaining Workers who will be walking to the factories that are still running. Cash, Takeshi, and Edan will follow in close proximity, blending with the Watchers. This mission is more dangerous for them than it is for me. If I am caught, I will likely be disciplined and put back to work. If Watchers who have deserted are caught, their treachery will lead to much harsher consequences.

  And for some reason, this seems particularly bad for Cash. Solomon keeps saying things like Are you sure you need to go? and We can send someone else.

  Cash only tightens his jaw and stares at the map, answering again and again I’m going. Solomon gives up. But before the subject is dropped, he sets a kind hand on Cash’s shoulder.

  “You know I admire you. And the sacrifices you’ve made.”

  He says this in a low voice while the others chew their bottom lips, hands on hips, staring concentrated at the map laid out across the table. It’s a private moment between Cash and Solomon, but I see it. My ears have been tuned to them without my control. I sneak a glance in their direction again in time to see Cash look at Solomon, nod once in acknowledgment, then press his hands to the table again, eyes forward. A physical message that the conversation is over.

  Solomon sighs. Looks up idly. Sees me watching. Smiles.

  “You are very brave to agree to this mission, Hannah,” he says, “These men will do everything in their power to keep you safe. Your mission is the medicine. Their mission is you.” The men one by one turn to me, their eyes connecting with mine. Takeshi and Edan give me small smiles of agreement before returning to the map. Cash looks hard at me, nods once—slowly—and continues to study me while my face burns hot and my heart pumps too fast. I try not to look away too soon. Solomon just called me brave. But Cash makes me feel like disappearing into the shadows. When a few long seconds have passed, I let my gaze d
rift to the map again.

  And I exhale.

  11

  I didn’t expect such a reaction out of Aspen when I told her I’d be busy for a couple of days. She asked me a dozen questions I couldn’t answer. All I could say to calm her panicked interest was I’ll be back soon. Take care of yourself. I’ll see you very soon, Aspen. Don’t fret.

  The words felt like empty promises, the kind my parents used to give me.

  We’ll be free one day.

  Someday the sun will cut through the clouds and you’ll see how blue the sky is. We’ll all see it. Together.

  We’ll never leave you.

  I walk to meet Takeshi, Cash, and Edan by the Infirmary doors at four in the morning, two days later. I’m wearing my old shirt and coat. I had to borrow a pair of pants from another Worker, since I arrived in sleeping pants. All of the clothes have been scrubbed clean, but I still see faint stains left by the little boy’s blood. I was told this is okay, because many of the Workers have blood stains on their clothes now, so I’ll blend well. The thought makes a sour taste rise from my throat.

  The closer I get, the heavier my legs feel. They’re protesting, because they’ve only just arrived, and running back in the opposite direction feels a little bit like insanity. But if sickness is spreading, we need the cure if anyone is going to survive long enough to get out of the valley.

  Out of the valley. Every time I think those words, every time Aspen says them, I can feel hope ballooning in my chest. It makes me nervous.

  I turn the corner toward the Infirmary, and my feet skid to a stop. My heart beats so hard I think the sound might be echoing off the walls. My arms and legs go numb. Edan and Cash and Takeshi are dressed from head to toe in Watcher fatigues. Black on black on black. Black pants tucked into black boots—shined to perfection. Black coats. Black knit hats shoved low over their foreheads—hiding Cash’s blond hair completely.

  Black rifles slung across their backs, strapped across their chests. They each wear a pistol strapped to their right leg.

  They look like every nightmare I’ve ever dreamed.

  Edan startles me the most. I saw Cash in fatigues the first night. But Edan has taken no time in earning my trust. He saved my life in the alley that first night. He checked on me the next morning. He might actually be my friend. But seeing him this way, in the clothes that killers wear, makes me have to stop and remember that he is good. I think he’s good. He always seems to be good. But I only know Edan a little. I only know a surface layer of who he is at best. What if time peels back the deeper layers, and I learn I really am gullible? What if underneath the sweetness and the sincerity and the crooked, minty grin lies a different person completely?

  Because in those clothes, he looks like someone I shouldn’t trust.

  They don’t see me yet. They are engaged in a quiet conversation, turned slightly away from me, eyebrows drawn in. I take this moment to drag in a breath. I fight the shaking and the hazy thinking and the urging to run back around the corner and hide. You are very brave is what Solomon said to me. If I can’t face the sight of these three men in fatigues, how will I face the real dangers outside these walls?

  For just a moment, I give in to the small voice deep inside of me. It’s screaming at me not to leave these cement walls. It’s a face contorted in fear, fists beating on prison bars, pleading with me not to go. These walls are safe. These walls are friendship and medics and regular meals. Solomon and his vision. Aspen and her stubborn hopefulness. And I only just got here. I only just learned about all of this, and I’m already being pulled into missions and need to know information. I’m only just learning to differentiate between who’s bad and who’s chosen to help us. Maybe I don’t want to do this after all. Maybe I’d rather not, because I’m only just getting to experience some semblance of safety. Outside are the real Watchers—the ones with trigger happy fingers. Outside these walls are twisted laws that kill people who need care and abandon the helpless ones.

  I don’t want to leave these walls.

  “Hannah?”

  When did I back into the wall? When did I slide to the floor and bury my face in my hands? I’m shaking from head to toe, shivering but I’m not cold. Edan is crouched in front of me. His hands touch my shoulders. His face comes into view as I drop my fingers, and I must be wide-eyed with fear, because he’s saying,

  “Hey, it’s okay. Hannah, look at me. You don’t have to do this. No one is making you do this.”

  Up close he doesn’t look so scary. When all I can see are his blue eyes, he doesn’t appear to be a threat.

  Behind him, I hear Cash’s low voice mumble, “I knew this was a bad idea.”

  I clamp my teeth to keep from glaring at him. My face heats.

  “No,” Takeshi says. I look at him over Edan’s shoulder. “She can do this. Get her up.”

  It’s a matter of fact, confident, conversation-is-over kind of statement. Edan closes his eyes and sighs. Standing, he pulls me from the floor, fixing me with one more look that says You can make your own choice.

  “Follow me, Hannah,” Takeshi says. I do, because his tone of voice communicates a calm I feel like chasing. I follow him down a hall, around two corners, until he stops by a solitary door. Edan is trailing behind us. I don’t think Cash is.

  We enter a small office space. In the near darkness, I can see that it holds a desk and chair, a filing cabinet, and a second chair sitting in the corner. On the opposite wall is another door that has no handle.

  “Come on,” Takeshi says, crossing the room without pause and pushing through the free-swinging door. I peek back at Edan, and he shrugs, motioning with his hand that I should just do what Takeshi is saying.

  The second door leads to a small bathroom. Takeshi flips on the light, and I have to lift a hand to shield my eyes while they adjust. A single toilet sits in the corner. A sink on another wall. The space is small, with barely enough room for all of us. Edan stands against the open door, his body still in the office. Takeshi gestures toward the sink, and that’s when I notice it.

  A clean, shiny, reflective mirror.

  “Take a look,” Takeshi says, gently nudging me toward it. I don’t understand, but that doesn’t really matter because I’ve never looked in a clean mirror, and the notion is intriguing. It’s also frightening. Nervous energy bursts in my stomach. I don’t have time to think about it, because a second later I’m staring into the glass.

  I see my mother. The same pale skin and dark hair. The same muddied, blue eyes. I stare at myself, missing the warmth of her arms and her breath on my hair as she sang me to sleep at night. I touch the tips of my fingers to the sharp bones of my cheeks, remembering the angles of her face. Takeshi shifts, and heat creeps up my neck when I remember I’m being watched. I drop my hands, but I don’t look away.

  “They don’t let you see your reflection, because you would remember your humanity. You would remember that you are a person. Slaves aren’t a threat,” he says, one arm across his chest, the other extended, pointing at me for emphasis. “But people. People could topple this entire system.”

  Something stirs in me.

  “I know I said I remember you because you smelled like chemical cleaner,” Takeshi continues, grinning. A smile tries to pry apart my lips. “And, well, you did. But I also remember you because you smiled at me. And no one else did. You smiled at me, and it was the first face I’d seen that made me believe we were doing the right thing.”

  “Why?” I ask, turning away from the mirror and the reflection of my mother.

  “Because you hadn’t completely given up.”

  My stomach drops. I look down, wringing my hands. “Yes, I had,” I whisper. I’m disappointed in myself. The things he’s saying are what I want to be, who I wish I was, but not who I am. I am not the hopeful girl.

  “You might think so,” Takeshi continues, undeterred. “But I don’t agree. I mean, you risked your life to help a child who wasn’t yours. Why?”

  I’m confused.
“He would have died,” I say, like it’s obvious. Because isn’t it? “He would never have made it here on his own.”

  “I don’t know,” Takeshi counters, shrugging his shoulder. “Someone else would have grabbed him.” He raises an eyebrow. I bristle, glancing at Edan, who’s listening with his eyes trained on the floor. Something—some feeling—is rising, filling my chest, warming my blood.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” I say, trembling. “Everyone was scared. We were all scared, and maybe no one would have seen him.” Defensive. That’s the feeling. He’s hit a nerve I didn’t know was exposed.

  “In a crowd of hundreds, someone would have seen him.” He’s leaning his back to the wall, arms crossed, studying his fingernails. Cool. Calm. Dismissive of my tense reaction. My blood pumps faster. I’m shaking, and my hands close into fists at my sides.

  “That wasn’t a chance I was willing to take,” I snap.

  “Exactly,” Takeshi says, looking up suddenly and pointing a finger in my direction. “You weren’t willing to take that chance. And I’ll bet you decided that in a split second.” He snaps his fingers, once. “Because you knew that no matter what, his life was worth saving, right?”

  “Right—”

  “And you couldn’t risk leaving it up to someone else.”

  “I guess—”

  He pushes off the wall, taking a step toward me so that I’m forced to look up to see his face. “And you believe that all the lives in this building—in this valley—are worth saving.”

  I swallow, trying to step back, but I hit the wall. “Yes,” I manage.

  His voice lowers, and his eyes narrow. I want to look away but I can’t. “For what?” he says. He doesn’t move—doesn’t seem to be breathing. He stares hard at me and waits. I feel like he’d wait a hundred years if he had to, and it wouldn’t be a waste of his time.

  My mouth falls open. Closes. Opens again. I’ve forgotten how to form words, and my thoughts are desperately scrambling into order; running in circles, looking for their place in formation.