The Registry (15 page)

“Why did you come then? If you were happy with the way things were?”

“For the millionth time, I just want a husband, and I was never going to find one at home. But now I’m starting to think I should have just accepted my fate as government property. I’m good at cleaning. At least I would have lived with self-respect.” Whitney softened her voice. “Maybe I should head back; we can’t be that far from home.”

“You can’t. I can’t do this without you, I need you. If you aren’t here, then I’ll end up just like him.” Mia pointed to one of the figures outside the bar.

“What’s the real reason?” Whitney asked, her eyes wide. “I know something happened, just tell me.”

Mia knew it was time to explain herself. She closed her eyes and gulped in the air.

“Do you remember my sister Corinna?” Mia wasn’t sure she would. Her older sisters had spent most of their time away at finishing school. When they were home Whitney was shut out of their lives.

“Yes, she isn’t much older than us.”

“She . . . she came back after her wedding, just a few months ago.”

“Did her husband try to return her?” Whitney couldn’t hide the shock in her voice.

“No, she tried to get away from him. She looked . . .” Mia tried to think of the right word. “Horrible.”

Whitney’s eyes widened. Mia felt the tears coming.

“He did terrible things to her, things I didn’t know a person could do to another person. My parents didn’t do anything to help her, they just sent her back, and then a week later we got word she had died. Supposedly she got sick, but I know he killed her.”

Whitney pressed her lips together; Mia could see her brain making justifications.

“Well, maybe she did something wrong. It’s her responsibility to please him—”

“That’s not all,” Mia said, interrupting. “She told me to find something, an article. I think it was from another country, but I . . . I . . . I’m not sure.”

“Do you have it?” Whitney asked.

“No, I was too scared to hold on to it; if we were caught we wouldn’t even have been able to lie our way out of it with something like that on us. I destroyed it, but I remember everything it said.”

Whitney looked intrigued. Mia continued.

“It was just a short page, like the rest was missing. It talked about how American brides are just slaves, how we are programmed to ignore that fact—there was even a line about how America is the most hated country in the world.”

“But we’re the best country, everyone knows that.”

“How does everyone know that? Because some book tells us so, because the government forces it on us? Why are we the best? It sounded like marriage in other places is nothing like it is here. It is even up to the girl to say yes, and it doesn’t happen till they’re older.”

“Maybe it’s a gag article, something Corinna and her friends made up.”

“No, it was professional. She lost her life to show it to me; her last words were ‘It’s all true.’ ” Mia looked at the ground. She let out a sob and buried her head in her hands. She felt Whitney’s hand on her back.

“Did you think that was going to happen to you, with your husband?”

“I . . . I didn’t know, it could happen to either of us. I never thought punishment could be physical. You’re more like a sister to me than any of my real sisters, and I couldn’t risk leaving you to that fate. I need to know that you are safe, too. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Whitney responded. “I don’t want you to end up like that either. You’re the closest person in my life, and I do care about you. More than anyone.”

“You are going to get to Mexico and find a nice, sweet husband who deserves you and treats you well and have smart children you get to raise, but until then we need Andrew. Without him that trucker could’ve turned you into Corinna. You don’t know what he could’ve done to you. Andrew saved you, and it would be a whole lot easier if you could be warm to him again,” Mia pleaded.

Tears streamed down Whitney’s cheeks as she nodded. Mia wasn’t sure if the tears were due to her guilt over trying to leave or her despair at realizing it wasn’t an option. She gave her friend a quick hug.

“Try to remember, Andrew doesn’t have a charmed life either, and wishing him captured by one of those monsters isn’t fair.” Both girls glanced back toward the structure.

“We’d better try to get a little closer. He might not be able to find us if we stay this far back,” Whitney said as she wiped the tears away and started to crawl.

Chapter 27

You may report for duty at any government building. From there you will be taken to the nearest training camp. Your initial training marks the beginning of your manhood. You will grow into more of a man with each day of service.

—The Boy’s Guide to Service

T
he tavern looked just like Andrew expected, and the blacked-out windows made it impossible to tell what time of day it was. A long, sturdy hardwood bar spanned the whole length of the place. This was a tavern designed for heavy drinking. In the morning there weren’t many customers. A sleeping older man, Andrew, and the bartender were the only ones in the place.

After a quick survey, Andrew sat down at the bar, close to the door, and pulled out the money Mia had taken off of Scott. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Andrew’s entry. He threw money down and ordered a beer. The bartender was a short, heavy man who looked annoyed to have a customer already. He pulled out a bottle and set it in front of Andrew. Andrew took a deep breath and took a swig from the bottle. He hated the taste of beer. He’d never understood why so many men enjoyed it, but he knew the rules. If he wanted to stay inside, he had to order, or else it would be begging in the parking lot.

The parking lot was not as bad as Andrew had anticipated. He had thought it would be bloodier. He was surprised to see boys still alive. He didn’t like being jumped on but was certain they were just starving to death and hoping to rob him. He couldn’t feel for them right now; the girls were his current responsibility. He shrugged off any feelings of sympathy and turned his attention to the bartender. After all, Andrew didn’t want to starve to death either.

“Do you know where I could find some work around here?” Andrew asked.

This caught the attention of the bartender, who turned and examined Andrew. He ran his eyes up and down Andrew’s frame.

“You’re thin but cut, aren’t you? What are you, seventeen? Six foot one? A hundred and sixty pounds?” the bartender asked.

“Eighteen. Six foot three. A hundred and seventy-five pounds.” Andrew didn’t like where this was going.

“We host fights at night. Twenty dollars a round if you win. Fifty dollars if you kill the other guy.”

“I’m not a fighter.” Andrew felt his knuckles growing white as he gritted his teeth.

He flashed back to age thirteen. He was just out of school with nowhere to go. The fighting circuit seemed like a great idea. You could make easy money and train for service. Andrew shuddered at the thought of how many boys had met their fate at his hands. He realized he was squeezing his fists too tight and tried to relax. Those days were behind him.

“I could clean your parking lot. I noticed some stains and some beggars on their last legs outside. I could escort them away for you.”

Killing someone gave Andrew no pleasure. Scott had been his first casualty in years. But Andrew had learned a long time ago that violence was often necessary for survival.

“Tonight’s fighters will show up in a little while. They come early to get people to sponsor them. The fighters clean up the beggars for free. They get some practice out of it,” the bartender explained.

Andrew’s flashbacks continued. This time he saw the face of a young boy, no older than thirteen. The image remained burned into Andrew’s mind. The teen looked so scared, his eyes so hollow, but Andrew didn’t even hesitate to crack his skull open. The crowd of gamblers went nuts, encouraging him. The younger boy was dead and Andrew relished the applause.

His mind went to a new vision. This time, he was in the same position as the dead boy. It was his final fight. He could feel death approaching as an older teen had him pinned in the ring. The crowd was chanting for the opponent to finish off Andrew. The fighter raised his fist and Andrew closed his eyes, but no final blow came. His competitor let him live. He got booed as Andrew caught his breath. He was alive.

The older teen showed Andrew compassion, something nobody had ever done before. That was his last fight and he had lived through it. Just sitting in this place was making him sick, but he needed work. It was the safest way to help the girls, and for some reason he couldn’t let Mia down.

“What about any locals? I know a lot about farming,” he said.

“Stick around and check for yourself, as long as you’re buying.” The bartender pointed to Andrew’s beer.

He forced himself to pick it up and took a swig as he stood. He moved to one of the few tables. It wasn’t far from the bar but this way Andrew could avoid forced conversation with the bartender while he waited. He thought back to his conversation with Mia last night. He knew he should have been mad at himself for talking with her, but he wasn’t. It did feel nice to share a little. He remembered his promise to himself to maintain distance. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to get to know the girls a little better. After all, the error had been trusting Scott, not them. He nodded to himself; it wasn’t like they would become friends or anything, just make small talk to pass the time. He hoped that for now Mia and Whitney would stay put and quiet.

Mia needed to keep out of sight because she looked like a girl, and Whitney needed to keep her mouth shut because she sounded like a girl. He reminded himself not to worry. Both of them were proving useful in their own ways and they were better off out there than in here. Besides, there was no way he could afford to buy them all drinks. He chuckled at the thought of Mia drinking a beer. He doubted she would be able to stomach it.

Chapter 28

Your rank and occupation in service will guarantee you a lifetime of respect. The higher you rise, the more esteem you are worthy of. A general deserves more honor than a private because he served his country to the very best of his ability.

—The Boy’s Guide to Service

G
rant pulled out a small electronic tablet and held down the voice-record button. The technology freeze had been in place for several decades now. The general public wasn’t allowed to appreciate any of these advances. Laptops and cell phones were the newest inventions acceptable, and some homes kept televisions to watch news and occasional foreign programming. Grant didn’t need permission, though. His clearance allowed him top-of-the-line inventions from all over the world.

“Develop comfortable nose guard to block smells but allow breathing,” he said into the machine.

He was always thinking of prototypes, a whole range of weapons or items that could assist the military. The scent of Scott Rand’s decomposing body, along with the manure, had given him his latest idea.

He smiled and waved as the black SUV pulled up into the rest area. Leonard and his agent stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward him.

“Think fast,” Grant said jokingly as he tossed a wallet toward the younger agent. “Meet your abductor. Please go prepare a press release and blast pictures of him, my wife, and her friend all over the news.”

The agent looked at Leonard for guidance and he nodded his head. He pulled out his phone and began readying the story while Leonard and Grant walked toward the crime scene. The area was chaotic; yellow tape roped off the entire perimeter and a forensic team was combing over every inch.

“Don’t worry,” Grant said. “Most of these workers are from my own private group. I’m not stealing your resources.”

“We have plenty of resources. Budget is not a concern,” Leonard said. “But thank you. What did they find?”

“Twenty-six-year-old male, bludgeoned to death, left in the back of his truck. His body was cleaned and hidden. It looks like all blankets, clothes, and shoes were taken. Cash too, if he had any.”

“It’s your girl. Anyone else would have taken more—the parts on this truck are worth a lot of money—and they wouldn’t have cleaned up the body,” Leonard said.

“I’m sure it wasn’t her, but her companion traveler Andrew. I don’t think that she would be strong enough to kill.” Grant laughed under his breath. He imagined killing Andrew. He hoped it would be with his bare hands.

“Why don’t we just release details about the Andrew kid?” Leonard asked. “At least in the local area?”

“Soon, my friend. Right now, I am enjoying myself. Expand your mind. With this kid’s enlistment date so close, even if I lose, I win! We’ll just go pick them up then.”

“You’ve been here awhile. What else did you find out?” Leonard asked.

“I’ve been here about, oh, five hours,” Grant said. “The driver was hauling manure, making everything stink and making it difficult to guess the time of death. They think it could be anywhere from a day to a week. But there is something interesting over here.”

The men walked closer to the building, and Grant flushed with excitement. He felt like he was back in service again, hunting, using his brain against a formidable opponent.

“It’s a smashed case.” Leonard looked puzzled. “They stole a map?”

“The map doesn’t matter; the symbols on the case do. Travelers mark maps like this to let others know where to go and where not to go. It’s sort of the code of the road.”

“I spent most of my youth as a city boy,” Leonard said.

“Me too, but I still know how the world works.” Grant couldn’t believe Leonard was so ignorant. “My guess is that the kid saw something on here. Something motivated him enough to take the map for directions. So, I’m having my team reassemble the glass, put a new map underneath it, and voilà, we’ll have an idea of where they’re at.”