Drowning in Deception (13 page)

He groaned and ran alongside her.

The helichoppers made their way
to the center of the large industrial area. There was a large platform there
that she hadn’t noticed before. It had steps running all along the outer perimeter
to the ground below. The choppers slowly landed on the platform.

Clover sprinted quickly to get
closer. She perched herself around the corner of a large factory not far away
and crouched low. She had a clear view of the platform from there and she
worked at catching her breath while waiting to see what would happen.

Rye hovered above her and placed
a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon,” he breathed. “Let’s get back. You’re supposed
to be teaching me to read, remember?”

“Yeah. I just want to watch for a
minute.”

He groaned again.

Suddenly people appeared all
around the bottom of the platform. They were the people of Quell, dressed in
the same drab clothing that Rye and Arma wore. Every single one of them bowed
briefly, then began picking up crates and boxes of all sizes that were stacked
neatly around them on the ground. The rotors of the helichoppers continued to
spin wildly, blowing dust all around and whipping the hair of the people below.
Five men emerged from the doors of the choppers. Their faces were stone, and four
of them each carried a long, large, black thing.

Then Clover saw the biggest man
of them all, and she recognized him immediately. “There he is.” She pointed. “That’s
my dad.”

“
That’s
your dad? Please,
Clove. Can we go back now?” begged Rye.

Her eyes bugged when she realized
the things the men carried were big guns. She’d only ever seen pictures of guns
before. She didn’t believe that any actually existed. Her father walked to the
front of the platform, where the light from one of the choppers illuminated his
face. He wasn’t carrying a gun like the other men, but a knife. It was a long,
broad knife with a curve that glinted brightly in the flash of chopper light.
Yes, it was definitely her father, but there was no usual humor on his face. He
didn’t look like the jovial man she loved to hug. He looked gruff and mean, and
scary.

All the people below, Rye’s
people, started carrying the boxes up the steps, loading them onto the choppers
while the men pointed their guns at them. They worked quickly and robotically,
making a point to not look any of the gun-toting men in the eye.

“What are they doing?” Clover
whispered. “What’s going on?”

Rye wrapped his hand around her
arm. “You really don’t know, do you?”

She said nothing, her eyes glued
to the scene before her. She watched in horror as her father yelled something
at one of the men who was approaching him with a box. He then clipped the man
in the side of the head with the blunt end of his knife. Blood poured
immediately from the wound, but the injured man only lowered his head and quickened
his pace.

“Rye. Tell me.” Her voice was
shaking uncontrollably.

He tightened his grip on her arm
and spoke clearly and evenly. “Most of what we make, produce, and grow here in
Quell is taken to Eadin. The things being loaded onto the choppers are food and
supplies for your people.”

“What?” She was astonished by
what he was saying, but she still couldn’t tear her eyes away from what she was
seeing.

“Well, where did you think it all
came from?” Sadness echoed around his words.

“I… I…” She’d never really given
it any thought before. She’d never been curious about such things. As far as
she’d ever been concerned, everything simply appeared at the Watch Tower when
needed. Only now did she realize how naïve and stupid that was.

A commotion broke out on the far
side of the platform. Clover tried to stretch her neck, but couldn’t see what
was going on. But she did see one of the Eadin men turn in that direction and
fire his gun into the crowd. There was a scream and a gasp and then everyone quietly
carried on as before, like nothing had happened.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She
got up and ran back through the rough snow-covered dirt and trees. She ran like
a mad person, tripping and stumbling as her arms flailed crazily at her sides. Tears
were nipping at her cheeks like chomping insects. She felt as if she had been
stabbed through the heart. Her lungs, which were no longer functioning properly,
had swelled to giant masses and were ready to burst through her ribs.

She stopped abruptly when she
arrived at the clump of bushes near the door. She flung her body around to yell
for Rye, wherever he happened to be behind her, if he was even behind her
anymore.

But he was right there, only
inches from her.

Her body went limp and fell into
his, her face crashing hard against his chest. His arms reached around and held
her up, pulling her close to him. “How is it that you had no idea what went on
here?” he whispered into to the top of her head.

Horrific sobs burst from her gut
as liquids oozed from her eyes, her mouth, and her nose. “More lies. The only monsters
here are the ones that come over the Wall from Eadin.” She bawled into his
chest, shakily inhaled. “We’re the monsters. We’re not gods. We’re monsters.”
The words spewed out of her in a horrid mess of saliva over and over again,
muffled by the warm chest that remained firm against her face.

Time passed as they stayed like
that. Rye remained still and quiet, aside from softly shushing on her head. Clover
slowly calmed the sobs to a dull weep, until the sound of the helichoppers
eventually passed back over the Wall.

When they finally pulled apart,
his jacket was soaked where her face had clung to it. He took her hands and
looked down at her, the light from the lantern inside the bushes casting a soft
glow onto his face. His expression was hard, but not in the scary way she
expected from him. It was serious and full of empathy.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, and then shook her
head. She wasn’t okay at all. How could she be?

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She searched his face. “You’re
sorry? How can you be sorry? Look at what my people do to your people, and
you’re sorry?”

“Let’s go inside. It’s warmer in
there.” He took her hand and led her into the enclosure in the bushes.

He was right. There was less of a
chill in there than there was in the biting night air.

When they were seated on the wool
blanket, she looked at him grimly. “I’m not much in the mood for teaching you
to read right now. Can we do it another time?”

“That’s understandable,” he said.
“You’re very upset. Would you like to hold my hand or have me hold you some
more? Would that make you feel better?”

She sniffled and cocked her head
at him. “You’re very affectionate people, aren’t you? The way you hold hands
with your sister, the way you held onto me out there - me - a person you should
despise. And yet you’re still offering me comfort.”

He shrugged. “I was wrong. I see
now that you’re different. You’re not like the gods with the guns. You’re not
like…”

“My father,” she breathed sadly.

He looked apologetic as he
searched for his next words. “It’s not so much that we’re affectionate. It’s
just…”

She waited while he struggled
with how to explain.

“We learn at an early age to
control our emotions. And part of that is learning to give comfort to those who
are having a hard time controlling theirs.”

She wasn’t sure she completely
understood, even though she seemed to remember that he’d explained this to her
before. She nodded anyway.

“So, do you want me to… hold you
some more?”

A tear trickled slowly down her
face. It had been a very strange day, a very bad day, and maybe comfort was
exactly what she needed, even if it came from this boy that up until recently
she thought hated her. Who else in the world could possibly give her comfort
now? A boyfriend that she didn’t want anymore? A fake robotic mother? A lying
bully of a father?  At this moment, Rye was all she had.

She nodded.

He scooted over to sit beside her
and wrapped an arm across her shoulders, and then he gently pulled her head
into his neck so she could lean it against him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How many of your people are like
you? You know, don’t know what goes on over here? Don’t know what the choppers
really do when they come here?”

She laughed pitifully. In one day
she had learned so much…too much, and more than she ever wanted to know. She
couldn’t decide if she was glad for knowing or not. “Most of us, I think.
Obviously there are some who know. But it’s all kept secret from the rest of
us.”

She felt his hot breath on her
ear as he turned his head toward her. “But how is that possible? I don’t
understand how so many people could be fooled about it.”

She stared off into the dark
bushes on the other side of the nest, and spoke as if in a trance. “I just
found out today that they put drugs in our milk. Apparently they do it to keep
us in a simple, compliant state.”

“Wow. You’ve had a couple of
serious blows today.”

She sniffed as a new tear found
its way out of the corner of her eye.

“Wait a minute.” He pulled away slightly
to look into her eyes. “What kind of drugs?”

“I don’t know. Some sort of
emotion equalizer. To keep us all content.”

He brightened, showing a fantastic
smile. It looked good on him. No. It looked amazing on him. “That’s why the
milk is helping Abilee. It makes sense now.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Never mind,” he mumbled and
quickly looked away, pulling her head back to his neck.

Then she remembered that he was
trying to say something before the helichoppers had come. “What did you want to
tell me before?”

He pulled her the tiniest bit
closer and whispered, “Let’s save that for another day. You’ve had enough for
this day.”

She sighed. Her entire world, her
existence, had been nothing but a lie. She wondered how much more her parents,
her dad especially, knew and weren’t telling her. What she’d just witnessed
confirmed more than ever that they were nothing but phonies. There were so many
questions and she had to make decisions, hard decisions on what to do about all
of it, if anything. But her head was hurting again and her body felt weak and
battered.

“Do you want to talk about it?
About anything?” he asked.

“No. Can we just be quiet for
now?”

He didn’t say another word. The
two of them sat there like that for a long time, just staring at nothing and
not speaking, as they listened to the soothing rhythm of each other’s
breathing.

When it was time to go, Rye again
walked Clover back to the boundary line on her side of the Wall, holding her
hand the whole way.

“I don’t expect you to come back,
you know,” he told her. “You’ve been through a lot. I wouldn’t blame you…”

“I’ll be back,” she assured him. “I
promised I’d teach you to read, and I’m going to. Besides, I have to bring more
milk for Abilee, and I want an update on how she’s doing.”

He smiled down at her.

“And right now, Rye, I think
you’re my only friend.”

Clover woke up bright and early
the next morning, having barely slept from the noisy turmoil battling in her
brain. She remained in bed until she heard the sounds of her father settling
into his bed in her parents’ bedroom next door. She couldn’t face him. She wasn’t
sure she could look him in the eye. In fact, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to
see him again. Who he was and what he did had been a big, ugly lie. The man
that she looked up to was no longer her hero, and that very thought shattered
her heart.

Though Clover wasn’t one hundred
percent positive that her mother knew everything about what her father did, she
had a sinking feeling that she knew about this. She was always on Clover about
drinking milk, and the other day when Clover asked her about gods, her face had
taken on a shocked, suspicious look. She knew. Clover felt it. And that meant
she was no better than Clover’s father.

When she could hear the sounds of
his snores humming through the bedroom wall, she got up and immediately started
packing. One thing she was certain of was that there was no way she could stay
in this house any longer. She still loved her parents, though part of her
wished she didn’t. But she no longer respected them. She had to get away from
them before she said or did something she might regret.

She had one bag stuffed and
zipped shut when her mother walked in. “You didn’t come down for breakfast
again. I thought you might still be feeling under the weather, so I brought you
your morning glass of milk.”

Clover froze. Her back was to her
mother and she had to bite down hard on her bottom lip. “Thanks,” she squeaked,
hoping it was believable. “Just put it on my dresser, please.”