Escape (Alliance Book 1) Page 7

  When she walked into class the next day she could feel it. The kids weren't looking at her. No taunts about her too big on her shirt, no jabs in her back with a pen. And then she knew what it was. Jess was gone. She could feel it in all the eyes that avoided hers now. She grabbed her bag and ran, ran to where she'd dropped her off just a few hours ago, ran all the way up the stairs to the door and kicked it hard, as if she needed to make a lot of noise to be heard. Jess's mum stood in the doorway, looking at her all bleary eyed, holding a wad of tissue in her surprisingly delicate hand, "She is gone, Cassie. She is gone..."

  She startled out of her reverie, still staring at the ad on the door. She had to see Sandra. She had to tell her that now she understood. That she wasn't wrong. That she needed her sister. She walked to the hospital where the lab was, and for the first time, went through the double glass doors.

  The place looked immense. She had no idea where the lab was. The youngish girl in a white coat at the reception beckoned her. "I'm looking for Doctor Sandra Groning. It's important. No, I don't have an appointment, but I have to see her. Look, lady, I am one of her new test subjects and something is wrong..." At that the woman, girl really, poked a few buttons on her screen and handed Cassandra a key card, "You need to take the lift up to the 8th floor. You'll have to put this card into the slot in the lift for it to go that high up. Dr. Groning will be waiting for you at the office right next to her lab. It'll be to your right, all the way down the hallway. You can't miss it".

  She smiled at the girl, not unkindly, and almost ran for the lift, but checked herself. She was this close now. She could give this a few more minutes if she had to. The ride was slower than she expected, but then it was an older building, so the lifts still traveled at the speed they did a century ago. She was amazed it still worked.

  The hallway was long, but she could tell where the offices were from here. The sign, "Dr. Groning" on the door surprised her. She had known that Sandra was a doctor for all these years, but somehow seeing that sign made it real to her for the first time. She wasn't playing a scientist, experimenting on monkeys and people and babies. She was a doctor, one who could fix someone if they were broken.

  She took a deep breath, and knocked the knock she hadn't used since she was a little kid, back when they lived in a much larger house in the country, and Sandra would hide in the tree house for hours on end. She'd go up there and then pull the rope ladder inside, so no one knew she was up there, and even if they did, they couldn't get to her. Only Cassandra always knew, and she'd climb the inside of the oak tree, and very carefully walk around the tiny ledge of the tree house to where the improvised door was, and she'd knock in that way she did now: five beats, a pause and another two beats.

  She waited for what seemed to be far too long for someone to open the door. She was almost ready to turn around and run, go back to her uncomplicated if unpleasant life, as the door swung open. She could tell from the way Sandra was looking at her that she knew who she was, that she recognized the knock.

  What could she possibly say to her now after so much nothingness for so long? After blaming her for Jess, for not being fast enough with her research to save her, and for mother's turning to drink, and then, finally, slowly, dying in that way nobody should ever have to die and nobody should ever watch someone die...

  Sandra wasn't there for any of it, not even the funeral. She sent flowers and paid for the arrangements, but she didn't come. There was a card, courier delivered, with apologies in her handwriting. Some urgent business in Sweden or Switzerland or Somalia, or some other S country. Nothing she cared about or would ever travel to. She still couldn't forgive her for that. For not protecting her from so many sad faces boring into her eyes, looking at her in that way one looks at a starving puppy, kicked too many times to bark.

  Some of what was running through her head must have shown on her face, for Sandra walked up to her, and grabbed her face, almost roughly, and pulled her to her, and finally, inside her office, and then held her to her chest letting her breathe. Letting her cry into her white coat. Holding her, tighter than mother ever dared, tighter than she ever remembered being held by anyone who didn't pay money to hold her however they wanted.

  And cry she did. For Jess, and for her mom, and for the stupid porcelain tea cups that she sold when she had no money left to buy food, and for her sister's face in the news as someone dangerous, as someone who deserved all the death threats she got. She let it all out in long painful sobs, and then finally looked her over - the still familiar gray eyes, with just a few tiny lines in the corners. Sandra never really laughed much, so that wasn't surprising. She looked tired, this much Cassie could see, and far too thin for someone who still had access to whatever food was available. And most surprisingly, she looked sad. Too sad for someone who finally solved a puzzle that cost them almost two decades of their life and so much more.

  "I had to see you. I needed to tell you about Jess, and the others I've known later on. How it really is to feel so hopeless, so unfixable," she whispered, just loud enough for Sandra to hear her. Letting go of her, Sandra walked her to the only chair in the room, perched on a stool facing her and waited.

  "I think I'm going to need a drink..."

  Sandra just shook her head at her softly. It didn't matter. She knew a drink wouldn't help her any. She just wanted to collect her thoughts so she didn't sound like a blabbering fool. And she needed to decide if she could tell her about herself, if she wanted her to know, and if Sandra would pity her for it. That she didn't want.

  "I saw your ad."

  Sandra's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She must have known that the only places the ads were posted were escort services, whorehouses and the like.

  "I work in one, Lexi's, just a few blocks away from here, on Fromer. If it wasn't for my inability to get pregnant, I'd qualify as one of your test subjects." She wanted to giggle at that, at the incongruity of it all.

  Sandra stared at her with almost maternal concern now. She had to tell her she was okay.

  "I don't mind it, really. I'm in control of what I do and who I do it with, and most of the boys have been good to me. When mom died, I sold what I could, none of it for very much, and when that ran out... Well, when that all ran out, I wanted to come find you, but I was so, so angry at you for not coming to the funeral, I just couldn't do it. Eventually, everyone I knew had died or moved to one big place or another, but I just couldn't leave. I wanted to stay close to Jess and to mom. I went to see them at that tiny cemetery every day for years, you know. At times, when things started to get really bad I felt they were the lucky ones, gone when the world was still a little bit okay, you know? But then I just couldn't stay there, and someone took over the house. I let them have it for a way out to Manchester and a few winter coats. My old ones were no longer serviceable by then.

  "And when I got here, the first person who was nice to me was Anika. She bought me something to eat, and took me to her place, a tiny room on the top of one of these old buildings nobody lives in anymore, but she made it livable, cheerful almost. She made it by doing what I do now... I was scared and so ashamed at first, but it wasn't so bad, really. And the girls are decent, you know? Jess kind of deep down decent.

  "Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I think you were right this whole time, the thing you did, what you were trying to fix. I think if this works, you'll save a lot of lives, and not just of babies, but girls... So many girls dying from it. They try to fix it themselves, you know. But they can't, and there is nobody that wants to help them. They don't really matter to anyone, and nobody ever misses them when they're gone. It's like they never really were at all. The boys, they just go on to the next one. The still rich ones especially... Anyway... You are not a monster, Sandra." She looked up at her sister then. There was so much sadness in her face, she felt almost guilty for saying so much, for spilling everything, but selfishly, she felt relieved.

  And looking at Sandra now, she knew she'd never lose her again, not to anythin
g. She couldn't stand to lose anyone ever again.

  Ghosts

  Laurel, March 28, 2236, The Compound

  Ams was a horrible liar. She really needed to work on that. She knew there was not even the slightest point in going to the old library to look for her, that she wouldn't be there. Something happened last night, that much was clear. She could almost hear her friend's brain working at breakfast. And she wasn't due for her period for another week or so yet. She knew that too. Theirs were always at the same time.

  She walked to the edge of the lawn and sat down on the solitary big rock that had been there for as long as she could remember. It was odd for it to be there. No other rocks anywhere near, and yet, there it was, just flat enough on the top to sit comfortably on. She had to find a way of talking to Ams without scaring her. She needed her to at least know what she was planning, even if she couldn't talk her into going. But at the very least she had to tell her about all the things that weren't adding up here. She deserved to know.

  She remembered the first time things stopped adding up. She was walking through the garden, looking for caterpillars to put into a jar to scare Ams with, and there was this maid staring at her. She didn't look away from her, like most mutes did. She was looking at her, dead on, as if reading inside of her brain. And then she looked around, and nobody else was in the garden, walked right up to her, and said, "Be careful with the purple ones, they are poisonous. They'll make your skin itch something awful, and nothing can fix it but time. You'll scratch yourself bloody, little girl."

  She must have looked twenty shades of dumb, for the woman gently put her hand on her shoulder, "Not all of us are mutes, though they think we are. Some of us they can't talk the voice out of. I don't know why that is or how, but it happens, though very rarely. I'm one of those non-mute mutes. My name is Kaia," and she smiled at her. She had a very pretty smile, her whole face was aglow with it. That was the not adding up. She seemed nice, and not at all a savage, and she knew things about caterpillars that her implant didn't know. It didn't make sense.

  She'd seek her out from then on every chance she had to be alone, but she was never in the garden again or anywhere else Laurel could go to freely. She wanted to ask her about what Zoriners were really like, and why they weren't supposed to talk to them, and tell her that she didn't think they were bad, or broken or dumb, but she didn't get to say any of it. And then finally, after many months of trying, she saw her by that rock and Kaia ran up to her and just said, "Run, get out of here if you can. You are not safe here, little girl. You will ask too many of the wrong questions and they will kill you. The Alliance will," and she was gone. And then they moved her away from here.

  She was very careful not to ask anybody anything after that, not even Ams or Stella. She paid a lot more attention to the maids though, and later to Drake, when he was brought here. She learned their habits, their faces, their smiles, and those were rare and easy to remember because of it. She learned, by chance, that Drake was a non-mute mute. She heard him humming to himself one early morning as he was coming up the back stairs from the slave kitchen. A very soft hum, but that was enough for her to know. He saw her, and nodded to her, eyes scared into growing too large. "It's okay, Drake. I won't tell anyone." She hoped he believed her. If she was going to run she'd need a friend and a gate guard would be a very good friend to have.

  She made it a habit to sneak past the slave kitchen,and peek in, and she saw Drake there putting what looked like a few leaves of sage into his tea. At least she hoped it was sage. From then on, she'd pluck unnoticeable amounts of it from the garden when she could and put the leaves in a little bag for him and hand it to one of the maids to take to the kitchen. She didn't know if he ever got it or not until she ran into him in the lawn and she could smell it on his breath, and he nodded to her and smiled. So it was sage. And he did know. It made her smile inside, his knowing.

  She got up from her rock and paced up to the tower. The sitting made her uncomfortable. She knew Drake wouldn't be up there yet, but it was as good a destination as any to walk to while thinking. She needed to find Ams, corner her in some way and just tell her, tell her everything. But she couldn't for the life of her think of where she'd go to hide from her of all people. And then she had it, the damn dusty loft nobody ever wanted to go to. Too many stairs and the elevator didn't run in that part of the compound.

  She ran, hoping she was right, sneaking into the back entrance and racing for the steps. Too many steps, but she kept going, climbing, the muscles in her legs burning already. She wondered if any of the places she could run away to would have this many stairs. She might just start running up them every day or as often as she could to get ready, in case they did. At worst, it would give her something to do if Ams abandoned her again.

  She was almost at the top, panting. She put her ear to the skimpy panel at the opening into the loft, registering the sound of running water. Somebody was up there. And then voices, a male and a female, but too far away and too quiet for her to know if the girl was Ams. She was suddenly afraid that she'd walk in on two complete strangers, doing something unthinkable. And there was no chance it was Ams, not with this strange male voice. Ams, who was afraid of all things boys, wouldn't be alone with one, probably not ever even for all her training. She'd see her at dinner soon enough,and then she'd just talk to her. Simple enough, that. Talking to her one and only friend in the whole world should be that simple. Only she knew it wouldn't be.

  She wandered aimlessly around the compound for the rest of the day, keeping Stella company in her silly jabber for a bit, then pacing to the library, as if by some small miracle Amelia would actually be there. She wasn't.

  Thankfully, the dinner bell rang. She raced to the kitchen, arriving far too early for it to feel like nothing was wrong, and waited. Ams came, kissed her on the cheek, and sat her tray down too close to the edge of the table, the way she always did. She seemed okay enough, but she wasn't quite looking at her face.

  "I looked for you at the library, Ams. I missed you. But you weren't there..." She said it quietly enough just for her and maybe Stella, if she was paying attention, to hear her. Ams blushed. So she did lie. That would be a first.

  Whatever it was that happened was bad then, bad enough for her not to want to tell her. She couldn't for the life of her think of anything as bad as all that. Maybe she finally figured out what her implant wasn't telling her about her family. Maybe they weren't dead and were coming here to take her home. But Laurel would be thrilled with that. Happy for her to have a family. Ams had to know that. Nothing else was making any kind of sense. She'd just have to wait. She would tell her, she'd have to. They had no secrets, except for all the ones Laurel was keeping from her for the past two years, but those will come out too, tonight or at worst tomorrow. Maybe, just maybe, Ams would want to run with her. That was worth waiting for.

  She jabbed her friend in the ribs, gently, this time, and smiled, "Kidding Ams, relax. I never go to that frightfully deserted old place. It smells like dead people in there. And I don't read those old books, you know that. What would I ever do with all that dust and the ghosts of ancient stories staring at me through the dark?" She went back to her food, hoping she bought it. Hoping she was a much better liar than her friend.

  That night she waited for Stella to fall asleep, and watched Ams climb into bed. When all was quiet and Stella was breathing too slowly to be awake, she walked over to her friend's bed and sat on the edge. "Wake up, liar."

  It came out harsher than she wanted it to. She didn't flinch or move, or do anything that would indicate that she heard her. So she waited, waited for what seemed like an eternity, and finally, crossed the room to her own bed and lay there for a long time thinking of all the things Ams could possibly want to hide from her. All the things that could have possibly happened to her when Laurel wasn't there, and when she couldn't think of anything for a very long time, she let herself drift off, hoping that her friend was still something she could hold on to. Aft
er so many years, this girl was all she had.

  The one who kissed her on the cheek every day. The one who wandered through the compound with her, pretending they were living in a long ago time, when people read those dusty books in the old library. Thinking of what it would be like to fall in love with an actual boy, one without an implant...

  Her eyes closed, she was listening to the girls' breathing, slow and soft. And then the rhythm changed, and she heard Ams get out of bed, slip on her clothes, and stealthily leave the room. So she lied, again. Nothing to be done about it now. She could follow her, but it seemed wrong, chasing someone who didn't want to be chased like that. The keeping of this secret, whatever it was, would get to her soon enough. Secrets always did.

  Sage

  Amelia, March 29, 2236, The Compound

  Her face burned, she could feel it, when Laurel was crouching over her like that, accusing her of the lie. And lie she did. But nobody blushed in the dark, so at least she didn't have to worry about that. She waited for so long afterwards, much longer that she should have maybe, to make sure Laurel was asleep. Still, her friend knew something was wrong, and she couldn't tell her any of this. She wouldn't know where to begin. And the boy... She couldn't tell anybody about the boy, not even Laurel. She didn't think Laurel would betray her of course, but the boy, he would mean nothing to her. They didn't even look at them as quite fully human, nobody did anymore.

  She ran down the back stairs to the slave kitchen and filled up a small thermos with tea and a larger one with soup. She couldn't take anything else without risking making too much noise and getting caught. This would have to do. It was better than the nothing he's had since that one lousy breakfast bar. She ran up to the loft, dropped the two containers on the floor in the corner and ran back down. She knew the boy would be asleep and didn't want to wake him yet. The stuff would stay hot for hours still.