Dissidence (6 page)

“Forget the work assignment, Peter, you can’t marry . . .”
Oww
, my proclamation of all things ludicrous was cut short by another stomach twisting round of cramps. Now what? “Peter, there’s no way you can . . .” Ugh, it felt like someone had taken all of my insides and tossed them in a blender.

“Are you all right?” Peter looked legitimately concerned.

I was a little concerned myself, but my friend needed me. He couldn’t marry that old bag. I couldn’t let him, but every time I tried to tell him
,
the words got choked off by a growing lump in my throat. What could I do? What could he do? How could this have happened to Peter, of all
people.
The lump in my throat was starting to cut off oxygen to my brain. It was the only explanation for the little voice inside my head telling me I had to let him go.

“Leigh?”
His worried face was blurred behind the tears gathering in my eyes.

This was unacceptable. I was not going to have some kind of breakdown right there on Peter’s stoop.

“You have to go. That’s just the way it is.” Yeah, sure, those words manage to escape my strangled vocal chords.

I didn’t
know where they came
from,
they were so far from what I was thinking. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there . . . now. The flash of hurt in Peter’s eyes almost made me
stay, but I forced myself up and out of his yard before I could change my mind. I could clean up the mess I’d just made later
,
after I figured out exactly w
hat was the matter with me
.

Not much later though because Pet
er was leaving. The thought hit
me like a truck
and spurred
my feet into a run. I hadn’t even asked him when he was leaving. What was wrong with me?

I kept moving with no particular destination in mind, just putting more and more distance between myself and Peter, until I couldn’t take another single solitary step. I found myself in the business district, outside an electronics store, doubled over, hands on my knees, sucking in as much air as possible when a high pitched beeping demanded my attention. It was coming from the display of televisions just inside the shop window. They were all showing the same exact image; an angry looking girl around my age with long brown hair and dark eyes.  She was scowling, and her eyes flashed with the threat of violence. Definitely not someone I’d want to run into in a dark
alley, that
was for sure. A series of words scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

‘Escaped prisoner.
 
Considered extremely dangerous.
  Orders to execute on sight have been issued.  If you see her, immediately contact your local security agency.’

The words ran on a continuous loop, and I read them four times before I’d recovered enough to keep moving. This time I walked. My legs felt rubbery, and I was completely fatigued. Now would have been a good time to go home. All I wanted to do was shower and climb into bed, but of course, my life couldn’t be that simple.

I’d almost reached the end of the business district when I heard a soft whimpering sound coming from the back of an alleyway. Ignoring it probably wouldn’t have won me any citizenship awards, but considering the day I’d been having, I declared myself exempt from my good deed of the day. Too bad my conscience disagreed. Consciences, who decided
those
were a good idea?

The crying got a little louder as I inched my way down the dark alley. It was definitely human, not some injured animal like I’d assumed at first. Perfect, now there was no way I could walk away.

“Hey,” I put on my best ‘let’s be friends, I’m really not a serial killer’ voice, which ended up sounding exactly like a serial killer would probably talk. “Are you okay?”

I peered through the dark expecting to see some lost little kid. Color me stunned when the crazy chic from the T.V. came crawling out from behind some boxes.
Except, she didn’t look crazy, or angry, or dangerous like the news had said.
She just looked . . . scared. What was I supposed to do with that?

‘Call security.’ That little voice in my head was back. I couldn’t call security on her. They
had orders to execute her on sight. No way was I being a part of that.
I should just leave, that was the best option. Just turn around and walk away before things got out of hand. ‘What if she is dangerous? What if she hurts someone?’ The voice was becoming disgruntled and getting more difficult to ignore, but I was determined.

I backed away, one step and then another. Whatever happened after I left wasn’t my
problem.
I turned to leave in earnest, but I was already too late. The mouth of the alley filled with guards,
who
then descended on us like a great black wave. I pressed up agains
t the wall, but they paid me no
attention. All of their focus was on the girl, who was now curled into a tight ball and shaking like a leaf. She was terrified and rightfully so. The guards had all drawn their weapons.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just stand there and watch it happen. That was exactly why they
got away with stuff like that; because the rest of us did nothing. Before I could over think it, or maybe jus
t think at all
and risk changing my mind, I lunged in front of the girl.

Chapter 6

I opened my eyes to blinding whiteness. I was shot. I must have been shot, and now I was dead.

Struggling to sit up, I
took a look around.
No, definitely not paradise.
I was sitting on a table in a room surrounded by white. I mean the ceiling, walls, floor, table,
sheets
,
even my clothes were all devoid of any color whatsoever. I looked at the contrast of my hands against the pure white sheets covering my body. I may not have a solid tan, but it was enough to know that there was nothing wrong with my eyes.
A hospital, then?
I didn’t feel any pain though, and there was only one machine in the room parked next
to the bed I was lying on. I
t didn’t look like any kind of medical device that I’d ever seen before. So what? Where was I? How did I get there? The last thing I remembered was . . . being on that train. The train! How could I have forgotten about that?

A scra
ping sound startled me, as a door that I hadn’t noticed inlaid in one of the walls slid open. A tall woman dressed in white scrubs strode in flanked by two guards.

“What’s going on?” My voice sounded rusty, as thou
gh I hadn’t used it in a while
.

“You have been found guilty of dissidence, and these men are here to
escort
you to your location of incarceration.” She held herself tall as though she’d already heard every argument I could possibly offer and intended to defy them all.

“Guilty?” The word almost stuck in my throat. “Shouldn’t there have been, you know, some kind of trial or something first?”

“That was your trial.”

“
That?
That weird dream was my trial?
That
was a mind trick, not a trial. I didn’t even know I was being tried!”

“Your subconscious was aware that it was a test, and still you failed.” She turned her back, leaving me alone with the two angry looking guards.

“Wait! Can you at least tell me why I
was
arrested in the first place?” Like I didn’t already know, but there were so many different options, I was just curious as to which one had done me in.

With a frustrated sigh, she flipped open a file she’d been carrying and scanned a few pages. “There are several reports of you openly renouncing government protocol on record, and do you remember a specific incident in which you blatantly expressed a desire to defy one such protocol in regard to your future mate, should he be unacceptable in accordance with your personal standards?”

I just stared at her as though she were speaking some kind of foreign language. I did remember that ‘specific incident’. What I couldn’t understand was how she knew about it, or how it had ended up in that file. That had been a private conversation between me and . . . Peter.

No
.No
way. Peter turned me in?
Peter?
It wasn’t possible, was it? I’d trusted him. With the amount I had run my mouth off to him, I couldn’t believe this hadn’t happen years ago. Then again, I guess it would have been difficult to explain my disappearance earlier. Now, everyone would just believe I’d gone to colony E to live with my mate, but I assumed there was no such person waiting for me. Scott
Maylee
the
butcher
. . . they
had
done that on purpose. Someone
somewhere had a sick sense of humor.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat, and I had to fight it back down before it could escape. The thought of Peter reporting on me was enough to make my stomach roll.
He was my best friend.
M
y
only
friend.
How could he have done this to
me,
and why then would he
have tried to stop me in the end?
Guilty conscience?
Change of heart?
Did it even matter?

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, one of the guards shoved a small pile o
f clothing into my arms—
a t-shirt, light gray pants, matching long sleeved button up shirt, and undergarments. “Dress . . . quickly.”

I glanced around for somewhere to change, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere to go. Did they seriously expect me to change right there in front of them? I looked back up at the men, and they’d both turned their backs to me.
How considerate
. Not seeing much of an option, I quickly slipped out of the
paper gown I had been wearing—
not even wanting to think about how I’d gott
en into it in the first place—
and into the clothes provided for me. Ten seconds later, they were dragging me from the room and down a pure white hallway. There was really no need for all of the pushing and pulling. Where did they think I was going to go? I didn’t even know where I
was
.

Outside, we found another train waiting for us. This time, when I was escorted into a private compartment, I was slightly less surprised to find it locked behind me. For a few insane minutes, I considered if it was worth jumping from a moving train through one of the many windows in my compartment. In the end, it was a moot point because none of the windows opened anyway. Instead, I dropped down on the bed in the middle of the room and considered how long it would take to get to my ‘location of incarceration’. What did that even mean? I wondered what it would be like, what the people there would be like, how long I’d have to stay there and what would come after. I kept my brain occupied with anything and everything to avoid thinking about the one thing that was threatening to push me over the edge.

It was useless. Every other thought ran back to Peter. My chest ached, and I rubbed at it, trying to figure out what they could have done to
me to make it hurt so badly. Then I realized
it wasn’t my chest that ached. I
t was my heart.

***

Two days. That’s how long it took to reach our destination.
Two whole days.
Food was delivered through a small slit in
the door three times a day. Besides that
I was left alone with nothing but the view from my windows to keep me occupied. Needless to say, that grew old fast. I was almost relieved when the train began to slow. I was beginning to think that my punishment was simply to go mad from boredom on that train.

The relief was shor
t lived though, and now I find m
yse
lf here,
in yet another
locked room with nothing more than twenty sets of bare bunks to distract me from my bitter memories and worries about what will come next. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, I don’t have to worry long. Soon enough, the door opens again, and bodies begin pouring in, male and female alike, and way more than forty.

Just as I think that it’s a good thing I got here early, a guy roughly the size of a tank comes right over to where I’m sitting. “Warming my bed for me?”

That’s just perfect. A quick glance verifies all of the other beds have been claimed. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of spending the night on the floor, but fighting freaking Hercules here doesn’t seem like a real great idea either.

“I might be willing to share.” A crude grin smears across his greasy face.

I think not. Silently, I slip off of the mattress, and carefully pick my way over and around prone bodies until I find a vacant patch of floor just big enough for me to curl up in. I just hope it isn’t some giant
’
s floor space I’m sleeping on. It doesn’t take long before the room quiets down, filled only with the sounds of rhythmic breathing broken up by the occasional snore. The odds of me sleeping at all tonight are less than zero. How convenient for me, then, that the sleep hours here are severely limited anyway.