Captives (45 page)

“Some days. Some days it’s only depressing.” She used her fork to move her beets around her plate, then jumped up suddenly and walked to her Wyndo screen. She picked up a small black object from the top of the screen then put it back. Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath, and she returned to the couch, eyes glossy with tears.

Mason wanted to ask what that was all about, but the look on her face made him wait.

“I have to admit,” Ciddah finally said, “when I found out my donors knew each other, that I was a product of love, not donations and schedules, I was so overcome with joy. Does that sound stupid?”

“Not at all. It’s natural to love one person, to create life together, to help it mature to the point when it’s ready to love and produce its own life. Family is a good thing.” Most of the time.

“I believe you.”

Knowing how difficult it must have been for Ciddah to admit that, Mason’s heart cracked. He could feel her nesting inside. He refocused his gaze so he could see their reflection in the Wyndo screen, sitting side by side on the sofa.

He pictured himself standing at a crossroad. One way, the road ran smooth and straight. Mason discovered the cure for the thin plague, cured the entire Safe Lands population, and changed the confining laws of this place. He married Ciddah, started a family, and they grew old together.

The other road was rocky with steep twists and turns. Mason
found no cure and was forced to make donations. He filled out revealing waivers each time in hopes of meeting any children who might result. The Safe Lands remained a controlling place, stealing women for surrogacy from all corners of the world and wresting babies from their mothers’ arms. Mason continued to work as a medic and after ten years reached level twenty. He pledged his life to Ciddah, and he contracted the thin plague. She continued to miscarry, and that hardship haunted their relationship until they were liberated together when Ciddah turned forty.

“My father knew Lonn,” Ciddah said, jerking Mason from his daydream. “The first time my mother was conscripted for surrogacy, my father got involved with the Black Army. It was pretty new back then, so no one really thought of it as a rebellion against the Safe Lands.”

“Your father’s a rebel, and he told you?”

“He’s not a rebel anymore. He was warning me that fighting back isn’t worth it. That the Safe Lands will always win.”

Lawten clearly was good at controlling the people through fear—he could even weaken a father’s resolve. “That’s a pretty negative outlook.”

“Not when you’ve seen what he has. My father was there when Arris died.”

Mason looked at Ciddah, unable to remember that name. “Who?”

“I forget sometimes you are so new and haven’t heard all our history. Arris and Lonn started the Black Army together. Arris had a memoriam liberation because he was killed. They all were—around twenty of them. My father was the only one left alive. The enforcers told him to make sure the rebels knew what happened to traitors, and if any of them told a word of the deaths, they’d all die with bad fortune.”

“But I don’t understand. I’ve never seen any reports of death on Finley and Flynn’s show. In fact, I’ve never seen any reports of crime.”

“People do die here. And there are bar fights, overdoses, heart attacks, and murder. And when death happens, there’s a memoriam
liberation. But only the positive parts of life are shown on the ColorCast. You won’t hear any mention of Lonn’s three Xs or the Black Army in this liberation ceremony, unless Lonn says something. But violators never do. It’s strange. I wonder what stops them.”

Lonn’s voice came loud and clear through the Wyndo screen. He stood at a podium before a huge crowd and spoke into a mounted microphone. “I lived my life the best I could. I learned, I loved, I played, but I also questioned. If we accept everything in life without question, we forfeit the chance to reach our potential. The Safe Lands can be a better place if you insist on it.”

The camera focused on Luella Flynn. “Some ways you can make a difference, Safe Landers? Retest in tasking to see if you’re serving in the right area. Adopt a pet from Pet Squad. Or join Safe Watch, an organization committed to keeping our city safe.”

It seemed to Mason that Luella had turned what Lonn had said into something else. “Sounds like Lonn still thinks people should fight back.”

Ciddah grunted a response, staring at the screen, her arms folded.

“You still think I should make a donation?” Mason asked.

She didn’t move. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the Safe Lands could only be benefitted by having more nationals like you.”

He felt himself blush. “Well, uh, thank you, Ciddah. But I’m going to keep on questioning, like Lonn said. Find a cure instead. Won’t that be better for every—”

A shrill siren rang out. Mason clapped his hands over his ears. What was that?

“Oh no!” Ciddah ran to the kitchen and opened the oven. Smoke billowed up to the ceiling. She screeched and jumped back.

Mason grabbed a potholder, pulled the pan from the oven, and dumped it into the sink. Ciddah flipped on the faucet, then turned back to the oven and switched it off. She stared at him with wide eyes as she used a towel to fan the air until the noise stopped.

“Oh!” Ciddah frowned, looking into the sink.

“What was it?” Mason asked.

“A cake.”

He chuckled. “I think it’s done.”

She swung at his chest, but he caught her fist in his hand. She tried to pull free, but he held tight. Something about her smile and the way her eyes sparkled made him glance at her lips. He could kiss her. See what it was like. Or he could be smart.

He released her hand and glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes before he needed to leave.
Close enough.
“How about I run and get some cupcakes from BabyKakes?”

“You’ll miss the rest of the speech!”

“I’m kind of missing it already.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ll be quick, okay?” He glanced in the sink. “You like chocolate?”

She swatted him again. “It was a spice cake.”

He raised his eyebrows at the black lump. “If you say so. Be right back.” He darted out the door before she could say another word.

Mason had parked the minibus in the Westwall’s uncovered lot. He started it and shakily steered onto Gothic Road. It had been years since he’d driven a vehicle, and he’d certainly never handled something this large. A horn honked, and a car sped around him. He pressed the accelerator harder to try to keep up with the rest of traffic. To make matters worse, the roads were wet from the rain.

He eventually parked in the alley between the Highland Harem and the Noble Gardens. Once the power went out, he’d circle around to the alley that led to the loading dock where the women were supposed to meet him—if Shaylinn managed to get them out. He should’ve driven slower. Hopefully, no one would ask why he’d parked here. Everyone was likely watching Lonn’s liberation anyway.

He reached back to the first passenger’s seat, grabbed his two-way radio, and pressed the talk button. “Eagle Eyes to Jackrabbit, you got your ears on?”

The answer came instantly. “This is Jackrabbit, go ahead.”

“The ark is in position,” Mason said.

“Glad to hear it, Eagle Eyes.”

“Saw Mother and four other Glenrock women on the liberation program. Think we can get them out too?”
Please say yes. Please.

“I’ll look into it right now. Jackrabbit over and out.”

Mason dropped the radio on his lap and leaned back against the seat, hoping it wasn’t too late for Levi to help their mother. He had never been so thankful for a burned cake. Not only had it given him the opportunity to fulfill his part in the escape and possibly help Mother, but it also had gotten him out of Ciddah’s apartment before he’d done something he would’ve regretted. His feelings for Ciddah were only getting stronger, but she had the thin plague. To love her would mean his own death. He could just hear his father mocking such a choice.

His father wasn’t here anymore, but Mason was leaving the Safe Lands soon and had a list of logical reasons against pursuing her, so despite his overactive imagination about the future, there really wasn’t anything to decide.

I
don’t like it,” Zane said.

“It’s not your problem,” Levi said as he carried the manhole hook toward the hole.

“There’s no exit.” Zane gestured down the dark alley to the drive that circled the Mountaineer. Grass and a fence of trees met them on one side, the building on the other. “We come back up out of here and someone sees us—enforcers see us—we’re dead.”

Levi leaned on the manhole hook like it was a cane. “Dead? Not liberated?”

“Hey, not everyone goes in for that tenth life juice. I’m a rebel, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Between Jemma being in the RC and his mother and the other women in the liberation ceremony, Levi found it almost impossible to stay focused on Zane’s words.

“Look, I picked this alley because no one will see us,” Levi said. “And it’s closest to the dam. Stop criticizing and help me open this.”

Levi inserted the hook into one of the slots in the manhole cover and lifted the edge. He’d made a point to clean it yesterday, so it came up easily. He pulled it toward him while Zane squatted on the other
side and pushed, and together they slid the cover across the pavement and onto the grass. Levi traded the manhole hook for a road construction sign he’d nabbed from the Highlands Public Tasks. He set it up beside the manhole, and once they had both climbed through the opening, Levi pulled the sign over the hole.

The stagnant odor of algae and mud brought him back to the day he’d come into the compound. It hadn’t been that long ago. As his feet lowered into the water, icy liquid sucked through his pants legs and onto his skin. He slowed until his foot felt the ground, then he let go of the rungs.

The water at the bottom of the storm drain reached his knees. Almost twice as much water as there had been on the day he’d tested the route. He readjusted his rifle that he’d slung over his back, then dug his flashlight and Red’s makeup crayon out of his pants pocket and darkened the X on the tunnel wall before the exit chute split. He’d marked the exits on his test run but figured they could stand to be more visible.

“What are you doing?” Zane’s face, barely illuminated by Levi’s flashlight, appeared to Levi’s right. Dressed in a gray maintenance uniform, Zane’s head looked like it was floating in the darkness.

“Marking the way.” Levi waded past Zane. The water was too high to walk on the sides of the pipe and avoid getting wet. Yesterday, it had taken him twenty-two minutes from the road to the canal. They were already moving slower. At least it had stopped raining.

Their footsteps sloshed through water as Levi led the way down the storm drain. He stopped to darken his hash marks at each exit shaft but tried to move as quickly as possible.

“I’d like to have a look at that gun later,” Zane said. “It looks like you made it out of wood.”

“I didn’t make it—it was my great grandfather’s. But parts of it are wood. It came from a place called Arizona, which is pretty far south of here.”

Thinking of Papa Eli reminded him of home, which made him think of Jemma. Shaylinn had told him how they’d tried to reach him
on the radio the night Kendall went into labor. If it hadn’t been for Red’s dance mission, Levi would have heard their distress calls.

“Do you know if Red managed to get the information she needed from Nash?” Levi asked. “She said it was important to Bender for tonight.”

“Nash!” Zane started to laugh. “Oh, you’re so dim. What’d she talk you into?”

Levi turned and pointed his flashlight at Zane. “She took me to some dance place and said we had to make Nash jealous so he’d pick her up. That was the night Jemma got arrested.”

Zane’s laugh dwindled. “Walls, I’m sorry. I
told
you to be careful.”

Heat burned into Levi’s cheeks and chest. “She made it up?”

“That flame is tricksy,” Zane said.

Of all the insane … Levi spun around and splashed through the water. He breathed hard and fast and could almost taste rusty dirt on the air.
Refrain from anger, and turn from wrath. Refrain from anger …

They passed some graffiti that said
Arris & Lonn: For all lives.
The closer they got to the exit, the shallower the water became. By the time the tunnel’s opening appeared in the distance—a circle of night that swallowed his flashlight’s beam—the water was only a foot deep, gushing toward the main canal.

Levi looked back at Zane. “How much time do we have?”

Zane pulled out his Wyndo and glanced at the screen. “About twelve minutes ‘til Bender makes his move.”

“Then we’d better make ours.” Levi waded the rest of the way out of the storm drain and up the canal. The moon was fuller than he’d have liked. Thankfully, numerous clouds in the sky dampened its glow. They reached the dam and the fish ladder that ran up the powerhouse wall. Levi stepped carefully in the sides of each pool, hoping his footing stayed sure.

At the DPT office, Levi had discovered that unlike in Old cities, the Safe Lands electrical substations weren’t located in the center of town. Aesthetics mattered more than convenience to Safe Landers, so the substations were on the top of the wall, on appendages that shot
off the roadway like Old scenic lookouts. There were eight substations for the Safe Lands: two for the Highlands, two for the Midlands, and four for the Lowlands. Levi had guessed that the eastern one fed power to the ColorCast studio, since it was closer, but he didn’t know for certain. He prayed his guess was truly an educated one.

Halfway up the fishtrap, they climbed over the railing to a concrete ledge that separated the fish ladder and powerhouse from the roadway. The trill of the generators buzzed through the powerhouse walls, vibrating the ledge under Levi’s boots. They jogged along the ledge until it met the wall that surrounded the roadway and stopped to look out.

Streetlamps lit the roadway, spaced about one hundred feet apart and alternating on each side of the road. Inside the walls, the city glittered. Outside, the land was pitch black, disrupted momentarily by a set of taillights that receded far out near the western wall. Levi could see no other vehicles.