Inside the Palisade (12 page)

Surprisingly, I do.

“Wake up! Are you alright?”

I force my eyes open. Ghent is leaning over me, shaking my shoulders. I bolt up, dizzy and disoriented, before remembering where I am. In his quarters. On his bed. “What happened?”

“You were crying out. I tried to wake you, and you pushed me away.” I scrub at my cheeks and realize they’re wet. A nightmare. I wonder how loud I was screaming. I sniffle as he fetches a bottle of water and a nutri-bar from his supply pack. He passes them over and sits beside me. The lavender scent is stronger now. He must have cleaned up while I slept. His hair is damp and slicked back, and he’s wearing different clothes, loose dark trousers and a black short-sleeved shirt. The dark color emphasizes the paleness of his skin.

I bite into the nutri-bar gratefully even though it’s soggy and a little stale. “What time is it?” I manage around a mouthful.

“Almost five thirty.”

I snap to attention. “We have to go, and you haven’t slept.”

“You needed it more.” He says, looking away. He clears his throat. “We’re going to have to get moving soon. Are you up to it?”

He let me sleep later than he should have. The sun rises early in summer and we’ll have to be in place outside the factory before the morning shift. I feel bad that he hasn’t had any rest. At least he had a chance to clean up. If he makes it outside the palisade, he may never see soap again. He may die in the wasteland. My nightmare floods back to me – Ghent’s body decomposing in the desert, buzzards picking at strips of his rotting flesh.

“What are you thinking?” He hesitates before touching my shoulder. I glance over at him willing my dream out of my mind. His solid frame fills so much of the tiny space. I can’t bear to think of it reduced to a mound of sun-bleached bones.

“Nothing.”

Making it to the factory before dawn turns out to be pretty easy. We’re traveling light: only the clothes we’re wearing and Ghent’s pack of supplies. My hair is swept back in a tight braid to keep it out of the way. Using the ducts to get out of the housing block isn’t so hard, partly because it’s a downhill climb and partly because I’m less claustrophobic this time. It’s also easier to maneuver in the clothes Ghent gave me from his mothers’ closet, a simple dark shift over durable cotton trousers. My injuries bother me less today. Although my arm stings a little, the swelling on my knee has gone down almost to nothing.

Ghent sets a punishing pace, but somehow I manage to keep up. We make good time to the shed. We’ll have to wait here for the night crew to clock off before I can take up my position inside the factory. Luck is on our side. The shed is not only unlocked, but its back corner houses some warped shelving where Ghent can conceal himself. There’s even an old tarpaulin he can hide under. We attempt a few trial runs with the transmitter. Each time, I move a little farther away to check the range. I try a final run up the factory’s outside staircase, all the way to the emergency exit. The transmitter relays my test message without a hitch.

When I’m safely back in the shed, the buzzer sounds, followed by movement at the front of the factory. The night crew is heading home. In a few moments, the day shift will arrive. I have to get to the upper walkway before there are enough people to notice me sneaking in. I can hide in the supply room and wait for Gamma to put in an appearance. Ghent gives me the signal to get moving, but before I do, he reaches out to stop me. He tugs at the collar of my shirt, double-checking the placement of the transmitter.

His voice is uneven. “Be careful.” He reaches for a stray strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. Only yesterday I would have thought he was trying to hurt me with those powerful hands. Now I see a real person: pale skin, dark hair and dark eyes, tall with a muscular frame, and a lightly asymmetrical face, one lip quirking a little higher than the other when he smiles, a brow that furrows into a curious “v” when he’s trying to work something out. He’s a person like me. In many ways, he’s less of an anomaly than I am. At least his mothers planned for him to be here.

“Meg.” He nudges me to get my attention. “Promise you’ll be careful.”

“I will. If I get into any trouble, I’ll give you the signal.” I hope it doesn’t come to that.

We stand face to face in the tiny shed. He towers over me, feet planted wide, arms at his sides. His lips purse and unpurse as if he wants to say something. But I don’t give him the chance. I turn for the door. The first beams of the morning sun illuminate my way as I climb up the outside staircase to the emergency exit. I try to turn the handle, realizing belatedly that I should have tested it before. I should have known my luck wouldn’t hold. Of course, it’s locked. I hadn’t foreseen that. I’ve only ever opened it from the inside. I throw my shoulder against it, but it doesn’t budge. How could I have been so stupid?

“Ghent!” I hiss into the transmitter. “The door’s locked!” I charge for the stairs. Maybe we can both hide in the shed and formulate another plan. When I’m halfway down, I barrel into a figure bolting up. Ghent. He’s holding something. A small metal clip. He grabs my upper arms to steady us both.

“I can fix it,” he says.

“We don’t have time.” I try to shove him away, back down the stairs, but he pushes past me, almost sending me over the railing, and starts fidgeting with his new device at the lock.

I race up beside him. “What is that?”

“My version of a skeleton key. I can override the lock with it.”

I wonder how many other tricks he’s picked up with only his books and his mothers for company. The thought is unsettling. I’m no slouch with technology. But this
deman
is something else. It’s strange to think that despite being locked away his whole life, he has more useful skills than I learned in all my cycles at school.

The volume of workers’ voices increases.

“Ghent!” I grab at his arm to pull him away as the door swings open. He flashes me a triumphant smile.

“Get out of here.” I turn him toward the stairs.

Without a word, he complies. I wait until he’s safely back in hiding. Then I slip into the factory, hurrying across the upstairs walkway to the storage area. The lights are dim. They haven’t yet gone to full strength for the day shift. Without my communicator, I can’t unlock the storage room door automatically, but this one is easy enough to crack. Gamma taught me how to do it when we both started working here. After a little recoding, the door opens.

The room is dark, so I feel my way to a low shelf where I can hide behind several of the larger dye barrels. It won’t be safe to move around until the day shift starts up. The air is thick and stale. They don’t go through much dye during the night. I’m probably the first person in here since yesterday. It’s also cold. It takes a while for the sun to heat things up. I rub my hands together and blow on them.

“Ghent,” I whisper into the transmitter at my collar. “I’m in. I hope you’re hearing me. The shift will start in a moment.”

The machines should be warming up soon. My legs cramp. It seems like an eternity before the second buzzer sounds and the whooshing and pumping of the machinery crescendos. The chatter of the girls rises in volume in concert with it. They have to talk loud to be heard over the din. I figure it’s safe to whisper an update: “Ghent. The shift has started. Sit tight.”

It’s warmer now. I imagine Ghent pressed into the corner of
the shed, hiding under the stinky tarpaulin. He’s probably as cramped and uncomfortable as I am. Eventually, I decide it’s safe to push myself out of my hiding place. I groan as I straighten my legs. No sooner do my muscles relax than the storage room door opens. Raised voices approach. Startled, I dive back into my hiding spot, calf muscles screaming in protest.

“Why didn’t you want to come up?” It’s a young woman’s voice, vaguely familiar.

“It’s a bit early for this, isn’t it?” says another girl.

Gamma.
She must be with Chi again. My heart pounds against my ribs.

“That’s never bothered you before.” Chi’s voice is syrupy sweet. They’re coming closer to where I’m hiding. I crawl back into the shelf. “What’s with you today?”

“Nothing.” Gamma sounds exasperated.

“Hey, if you don’t want to be with me, say so. It’s not like I don’t have other options.”

“Fine.” Gamma’s voice is quiet.

“Then, c’mon.” Chi’s voice has returned to that silky tone.

“No. I mean fine. Find someone else,” Gamma says.

“You don’t think I will?”

“I don’t care.”

“I could easily have someone else by tomorrow, and you’d be alone.”

“How do you know
I
haven’t found someone else?” Gamma says.

If she has, that was fast work. She was with me last night in her quarters and …
oh.

Chi’s laugh is derisive. “Have a nice life, Gamma.”

I hear the door open and close. Chi must have left, but I don’t know where Gamma is. I can make out her breathing nearby, but I can’t get a sense of direction. She huffs, and there’s a loud clank. She must have kicked one of the dye barrels. She’s not in the mood I was hoping for, but she’s here. This is my chance to talk
to her alone. I sneak out from my hiding place, slowly unfurling my limbs. Following the sound of her breathing, I realize she must be closer than I thought. Sounds like she’s in the next aisle over. I carefully make my way towards the sound of her breaths.

“Gamma,” I say.

She whirls around. It’s hard to make out her features in the dim light. “Omega?”

“Are you alright? I didn’t see you on the line.” She moves forward and her words come out in a rush. “I suppose you heard all that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I wish I could see her better, but I don’t want to turn on the lights.

“Why didn’t I see you downstairs?” she asks suspiciously. “Did you clock in with us?” She takes a step closer. “And what are you wearing?”

“Oh this? They’re old. Mom’s.”

“You’re not keeping up with the laundry either, are you?” She leans against a shelf. “I’m sorry about last night. I guess all of that was a bit of a shock. Are you really okay now?”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Do you have a topic in mind?”

“Actually, I do,” I say, crossing my fingers at my side.

“Oooh, I’m intrigued. Do tell.”

I try to keep my voice light and gossipy. “I’m curious about something I heard in the Clinic the other night. I didn’t get a chance to ask you about it yesterday. I wondered if you or your mom might know anything about it.” I hope Ghent won’t freak out that I mentioned Ma Temple. I rehearsed this about a hundred times last night without saying her name, but it slipped out anyway. “It’s probably not even true, but some women were talking about a Med-Tech, a Delta Jaye?”

Gamma scrunches her brow. “You heard about that? I wonder how it got out? I’ve heard some wild rumors about that woman.
You’re probably right that they’re not even true. I mean, if they were true there’d be Protectors everywhere. There would have to be if we actually had
demen
loose inside the palisade.”

With her fingers resting against my forearm – when did that happen? – she must sense my shiver.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I’m sorry,” I splutter, trying to recover my composure. “It’s my arm. From the factory. I guess it’s still a little sore.”

“I didn’t even think to ask about it with everything else going on. You probably should be home resting. Do you want me to take you?”

“I’m fine.” I try to make my voice sound casual. “But I’m interested in what you were saying.”

“Maybe we should go outside and get you some air?” she says.

I’m prepared to take the risk of talking to her outside. It won’t do any harm as long as we go out the back stairs and no one sees us. She doesn’t seem to think I’m involved with the
deman.
I don’t protest when she loops an arm through mine to lead me to the door.

“I don’t want anyone to see me here,” I say, remembering that I didn’t actually clock in, and I’m still not wearing my contacts.

“Oh, so you
are
playing hooky?” She opens the door. “Don’t worry. You know how good I am at sneaking around.” She guides me to the emergency exit by the back stairwell, unwittingly retracing my earlier steps. Pushing the door open she ushers me down the stairs. I don’t think anyone could hear us over the din of the machinery, and I’m pretty sure we’ve managed to keep out of sight.

“This way.” She grabs my wrist and makes for a small patch of grass dotted with shrubs about fifty feet behind the shed. My heart thumps as we pass, knowing Ghent is so close. Gamma helps me to the ground behind the bushes, out of sight of anyone who might come outside for a cigarette. She kneels beside me,
and notices my eyes in the daylight. “Omega, why didn’t you put your contact lenses in?”

“I lost them.”

“Don’t you have a spare set?”

“I couldn’t find them either.”

“No wonder you’ve gone into hiding. Do you want me to call Mom? She could probably arrange a new set.”

“No. I mean, not just yet. I really want to know about Delta.”

“Okay, but after that you have to go home, alright? I’ll call Mom about your lenses.”