World Of Shell And Bone (8 page)

I blink. A tear in the corner of my eye spills over. “I don’t understand. You’re… you’re a Husband. I was Matched with you.”

“It was set up that way. The Rads are everywhere, Vika. They rigged it so I was Matched with you because of where you work.” His words cut me.

“So this has all been a sham? Is that why I’m not pregnant—did you do something to me?”

“No.” Shale takes a deep breath. “I agreed to be a Husband, to gift you with a child if I could. And that’s what I came to do. But part of my plan was also to earn your trust and get information about the Asylums.”

“Why?” I eye the distance to the door. Can I escape before Shale has a chance to catch up to me? I think back to my physical fitness test. I failed, and Shale passed. I understand fully now why we’re cautioned to not anger the Husbands. I feel powerless. “What do you want with the Asylums?”

“The Asylums are a way for the government to kill children who don’t live up to their expectations. And not just kill them, but maim and torture them first, in the name of science. Don’t you wish to see a change? For your sister?”

Ceres’s thin face flashes before my eyes. “Don’t use my sister to justify your terrorism. Answer me: what are you going to do to the Asylums?”

“We’re going to free the children and then burn the Asylums down.” Shale’s face is hard.

“I can’t let you do that.” I stand, but Shale blocks my path, towering over me. My heart begins to beat harder. I don’t have a weapon.

“You’re on the side of the government?” he asks, his eyes spitting fire. “The government that decided you’re not good enough to leave because you aren’t strong enough? Because you can’t get pregnant fast enough? The government that took your sister away, wants to put your brother to death?”

I am frightened, inexplicably, earth-shatteringly so. What is he doing to me? Why, as his words sink in, do I feel a strange stirring in my chest, a burst of energy?

“It’s the only way,” I say. “They’re only doing what’s best for New Amana. And I’ll get my chance when I get pregnant. I’ve got one more try.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Shale asks. An Escort van wails outside and I jump. “They’ve changed their minds once—who’s to say they won’t change them again? What if they tell you you only get two tries, that you’re not eligible for emigration anymore? What if you do get pregnant, but they leave you here anyway, with your unborn baby, to starve to death? Or die at the hands of the others left behind—hungry, hunted, cold?”

I put my hands over my ears. “Stop! You’re trying to scare me, and I won’t listen!” Shale steps towards me, but I back away. “I can see that you won’t let me leave. So what’s your plan now? Now that I know? Will you kill me?”

He looks aghast, almost convincingly so. “No. I don’t mean you harm. That was never part of the plan. If anything, I was hoping with your history, you’d be sympathetic to my cause.”

“If you think you can use Ceres to get me to betray my government, you’re wrong.” But even as I say the empty words, Ceres’s face flashes before me. The new Ceres, the sister I don’t know. The one with eyes like flat golden stars, long-dead but still projecting the light they once had.

Shale turns to go, but hesitates in the doorway. “We could really use your help, Vika. And so could Ceres and all the other children like her. Please. Think about it.”

I slam the door.

Morning comes soft and creeping. I open my eyes, register its arrival, and close them again. I am heavy. I weigh as much as a planet.

There’s a soft knock on the door and Shale comes in. I hear the tinkle of teacup on tin plate, but I cannot summon the energy to turn over. The bed shifts as he sits down behind me.

“Are you going to work today?”

“I don’t know.” I want to say something to show Shale I am still in control. But the words have withered into meaningless dry dust.

“I’m sorry I had to lie to you.”

It has nothing to do with you, I think. This is penance for how I’ve lived my life until now. This is payback for darting into the shadows while my sister—and others—stood exposed.

“I promise this won’t affect you in a negative manner,” Shale says. “You can pretend you didn’t know. I’d never betray you, even if I was caught.” He puts his hand on my arm, a warm bridge across the chasm that’s opened between us.

It takes me a moment to realize that what I’m feeling is revulsion toward myself. Coated in the bleak hues of melancholy, it doesn’t stand out in stark contrast to the other emotions running through me. But it’s there. Revulsion, self-loathing, disgust. Because it’s happening again. Once again, Ceres is in danger, the government I have pledged to serve feasting on her vulnerability. And once again, I am cowering in the corner, hoping for absolution. Is there such a vast difference between my mother and me after all?

So before I lose my nerve, before Shale walks out of the room and this moment is lost, I sit up. My thoughts are glowing embers, hot and bright, bombarding my mind. “Shale, wait. I… I want to help. I want to help you free Ceres. Actually, I…I
need
to.”

He exhales in a rush. “Being uninvolved is the safest option for you.”

“I don’t want to be concerned with safest anymore.” I look him in the eyes, wondering if he can see the cowardice masquerading as new-found bravery. “But I do need you to be honest. I need the facts. When was Ceres’s likeness taken?”

“About a year ago.” Reading my mind, he continues quickly, “She’s alive, as far as we know. But the last time we checked in, she was sick.” He pauses, his eyes trying to convey something my mind rebels against.

This is fear, I think. This is panic. Watching a man who knows you intimately, and whom you don’t know at all, think of a way to tell you your sister is dying. Because I am sure. Ceres is dying.

“Vika… she’s not doing well. We have to get her out. Do you understand? She might not make it very much longer.” He puts his hand on mine, but my hand is numb. I feel nothing.

I force words from my mouth. “What can I do to help?”

“We need several things from BoTA that you could get more easily for us. We also need someone to help us read bus schedules and routes.” Shale pauses and watches me for a reaction.

“How were you planning on getting those?”

Shale breaks eye contact and looks away.

“You’ve told me so much already. This will work better if you trust me.”

“I know, but so far I haven’t betrayed anyone but myself. If I tell you much else, I’ll be bringing others into it.” He looks at me again.

“It will be easier for your mission to have someone inside BoTA to help. Someone who has a personal stake in this like I do. I have to get my sister out of the Asylum.” I put my hand next to his on the bed. “Shale, I can’t let her die there. It simply isn’t an option.”

After a long moment, just when I think he’ll never confide in me, Shale says, “The Rads have a contact at the Code Agency who can leave me a key to the records room in the basement. She’s sympathetic to our cause, but she isn’t willing to get involved past that stage. I was planning to get into the building using your card late one night to get access to the key.”

I process this for a moment and then nod. “I can go instead of you, and I can do it during working hours. It’s much less dangerous that way. Who was your contact?”

Shale hesitates again, but whatever he sees in my eyes must convince him I’m not about to phone the Escort Tip Line. “Celeste Walters. She sits at the very front of the room at the Code Agency. She’s the one you see right when you walk in.”

I think back to the unsmiling woman who called her boss when I asked for a copy of the code sheet. So it was all part of keeping up the ruse while she worked to help the Rads. Well, she didn’t know who I was then. Maybe now she’ll be a little less likely to inform on me.

“I know the one you’re talking about. Can you set it up so she meets me in front of the records room around ten tomorrow morning? It’s usually fairly quiet around that time of day.”

“Tomorrow?” Shale looks at me closely, as if he’s pondering whether I’ve lost my handle on reality. He can’t know how much I’ve overvalued reality thus far. “Do you want some time to think this over, Vika? If you get caught—”

“Let me worry about that. Please.” I’m flushed, as if I’m fevered. The need to do this burns within me.

Shale blows out a breath and hangs his head. I look at the short black hairs on the nape of his neck, something stirring deep in the pit of my stomach.

“Okay,” he says at last. “She’ll be there.”

I don’t sleep, and I can tell Shale doesn’t either, because I see his shadow under the door, pacing back and forth. At around eleven, he goes out, presumably to consult with the Rads on this new development. I wonder how many times he’s done that without my knowledge. Is that why he’s always asleep when I leave in the morning for work? At three o’clock, he still isn’t back, and I drift off into uneasy sleep.

When I wake up for the morning, as I get dressed for work, Shale knocks on my door. I open it once I’m decent.

He hands me a cup of tea. “Are you still sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely.” I take the cup. “Thanks.”

“I arranged everything. Celeste will meet you there at ten, like we talked about.”

I nod and begin to go around him, but he grabs me by the shoulders and looks me deep in the eyes. I begin to find myself veering into an unsafe place I’ve never been before.

“Be careful,” he whispers.

Guilt pulls a mask over the face of the world. Every smile seems to me malicious, every look predatory. When two women on the bus whisper, I am sure they’re whispering about what I am about to do. The bus driver glances at me too often in the rearview mirror. In my office, a hush descends on the room when I walk in. I wait for the Escorts to come.

“You seem rather on edge today,” Moon says when I jump at the beeping of my computer terminal. “Everything alright?”

I force a smile. “Yes. I had a late night. Exhaustion will do that.”

She raises one green eyebrow. “So will guilt.”

There’s a beat, a simple skipping of my heartbeat. Then, Moon laughs. “Just a joke, Vika. You don’t have to look so alarmed.”

“Right.” I hold my smile in place. “You’re funny.”

At precisely ten till the hour, I make a show of yawning and wiping my eyes. At five till, I tell Moon I have to visit the washroom to splash water on my face. “I can’t seem to wake up,” I say ruefully, but she barely glances at me.

I wonder briefly as I make my way to the basement whether I am really doing this. But then a comfortable blanket of numb white nothing drifts down over me, and my mind quiets.

I walk down the winding steps all the way to the bottom, where sounds echo and the air is degrees colder. The records room is all the way at the end of a twisting hallway. I get there at one minute past the hour. Celeste isn’t there yet, so I lean against the wall and wait. If anyone approaches, I have a sheet from work I can consult to make it look as though I have every right to be here.

10:02.

10:03.

At 10:05, I begin to fret. Where is she? Has she been delayed? Informed upon? Are the Escorts even now heading down the stairs, looking for the other terrorist within their ranks?

But at 10:07, the unsmiling Celeste walks rapidly toward me. Her eyes widen when she spots me, and she comes to a stop in front of the records room. I nod at her, and she nods back. Slipping her key into the door, she opens it and steps in without a word. I follow.

She glances over her shoulder at me, and I close the door. Going over to the far corner of the room, Celeste begins to rummage through a box of musty files, using the small square window for light. I wait in silence.

Finally, she looks at me. “Is there something you need?”

I feel a pang of sympathy for her. It can’t be easy, coming down here without knowing who the person is at the other end of the arrangement. “It’s okay. I’m… the one. The one you’re supposed to meet.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Oh?”

“I’m not sure if Sh—” I stop as I catch sight of her identification badge, turned just the slightest bit toward me.

Her name is Luna Morgan. This is not Celeste. She is not my contact.

“Actually, I think I got the directions wrong,” I backtrack. Heavy drops of sweat gild my forehead. “I don’t think I was meant to come to this room after all. Excuse me.” I turn and force myself to walk out calmly, like someone who has just made an honest mistake.

When I reach the stairs, I run back to my office. Celeste, not Luna. Celeste must have been the girl who helped me the first time, the one who handed me the code list without checking with her boss. Of course.

But where is she now? The thought stops me cold. Have the Escorts gotten to her? Is the plan compromised?

I wait all day like I’m waiting for life-altering news from the doctor. I expect the Escorts to come get me, to haul me off like they did Naiad. But no one comes. Could it be Luna believed my lie?

I rush home from work, elbowing my way past throngs of workers heading home in the muggy twilight. When I burst into the apartment, Shale is pacing. He looks at me, his expression taut. “How did it go?”

Breathlessly, I shake my head and set my bag down. “It wasn’t Celeste. The girl who came to the records room… the one I thought you meant. She’s Luna Morgan. I haven’t seen Celeste in a week.”

Shale’s face is pale. “Do they know about the plan?”

“No. I managed to make up an excuse and leave. Who told you Celeste would be there?” I try to keep the anger out of my voice. It’s probably a mistake, but one that could’ve cost me or Ceres our lives.

“One of the Rads. He said he’d pass on the message to Celeste.” Shale’s hands are enraged fists.

“I saw Celeste on my first trip to the Code Agency, but when I went back a week or so later, Luna had replaced her. Do you think the Escorts got Celeste?” I go to the kitchen and get a glass of water. My throat feels tight, dry, like it’s packed with sand.

“Fuck. I’m not sure.” He pushes a hand through his hair and curses again. “But you’re alright? You’re sure she didn’t know?”

“No, I don’t think she did. I told her I had the wrong room.” I sit down on the sofa. My entire body trembles at the thought of being found out. My life thus far has been about racing ahead of the tsunami coming toward land, about staying just out of reach. For the first time, my feet are rooted to the spot and I won’t make a run for safety. It is foolish, but there is no other way. I can’t leave Ceres stranded on her shore. “What now?”

“Now I go see the Rads,” he says. “We have to explore where things went wrong and how we can set them right.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Surprise flits across his face. “Really? To a Rads’ meeting?”

“Why not?” I stand up and adjust my uniform. The zero armband pinches the tender flesh of my inner arm.

“Haven’t you heard what the government has to say about the Rads? That we’re notorious misogynists, even rapists?”

Looking at Shale now, I wonder how I ever thought his eyes looked complacent, how I failed to see that fevered spark of intelligence. “Are the people you associate with rapists?”

“No,” he says. “I wouldn’t be part of a group such as that. But still, wouldn’t you be more comfortable here, safe in your own home?”

I shake my head and begin to button up my uniform top, because I don’t know how to explain that there is no such thing as safety, no matter where you are. Safety is the cleverest illusion New Amana perpetrates. It is the rabbit pulled out of a black hat that, when you’re looking away, morphs into a rabid wolf.

We take a night bus to the heart of the city, and then hop another bus from there to the outskirts of town. At this time of night, the only other passengers are young boys being ferried to and from the Husbandry and a few female night-shift workers. A single light flickers overhead, casting shadows on their sallow faces. I look out the windows, but the sky is obscured by fog. When I search for the stars and the planets, all I can see are my own eyes, staring hollowly back at me.

At our stop, Shale grabs my hand. We push through the murky night in a deserted ghost town for about twenty minutes. I see glowing eyes staring at us from hazy corners—scavenger animals, the few left. Finally, when my shirt is plastered against my back like a second skin, Shale turns into an apartment building that likely housed people once. Now, the place stands dark and rotten, and the perfume of decay clings to my hair.

Shale knocks on a warped door and stands back, prodding me behind him. “It’s better if they see me first,” he says. “Since they don’t know you.”

The door opens just a crack and someone says, “Password.”

“Charlie Sigma Oh One,” Shale replies.

The door opens wider, and the man steps out. He’s dressed in the Rads’ black uniform, a black bandanna around his mop of curly hair. He thrusts his chin at me. “Who’s the cunt?”

“Watch the language,” Shale snaps. And then, “This is Vika Cannon.”

The man’s eyes widen. “Your female? No shit. Come in, then. Tomas will wanna see this.”

When we enter, I stand still a moment, allowing my eyes to adjust to what is all around me. The most taboo of le marché noir material is slathered on the walls. Twentieth century-style posters of women in compromising positions and skimpy outfits are everywhere. I don’t know where to look.

But I forget my embarrassment, my fear, even Ceres, when I see who’s sitting on a chair, staring right at me.

Mica.