Breaking Point

by Kristen Simmons

  “There aren’t any,” said the guy behind her.

  “Ah, hell. The MM took all your stuff, Ember. They cleaned you out. I got a couple things before they finished, but all the furniture and everything, it’s all gone.”

  I slid down the wall to the floor. In a second, Chase was at my side, helping to settle me on the dusty linoleum. The moment I was down, he released me and backed away. I didn’t want him to go. I needed him close. Beth eyed him reproachfully and knelt at my side.

  “You’re not going to puke?”

  I had yesterday, outside the Wayland Inn during the fire. No one had balked at me then, like Beth was doing now.

  I shook my head.

  “Beth, what are you doing?” I asked.

  “What do you mean—”

  “This,” I said, throwing my arms out to the side. “My house. My mom’s name. In the middle of the night!”

  “Quiet!” said Stephen again.

  Beth took a quick breath. “Okay. It’s kind of complicated, so just hang tight. There’s this thing called a safe house,” she said the term slowly, as if I’d never heard of it. “And people who are in trouble go there, but they have to wait at more remote places, checkpoints, for—”

  “I know what a checkpoint is!” I shouted.

  “Alert the neighborhood.” Stephen’s footsteps clacked against the floor as he marched into the next room. I tracked him with my eyes, wondered where this stranger thought he was going in my house.

  “You do?” Beth tucked her hair behind her ears. “Did they teach you that in Sister school?” She pointed at my blouse.

  “I’m not a Sister,” I said, face falling into my hands. “It’s a disguise, just like Chase’s uniform.”

  She chewed her lip. “Maybe I need a disguise.”

  I groaned. “This isn’t a joke!”

  “Of course it’s not.” She looked wounded. “I help people here. I helped Mrs. Crowley across the street. The MM was coming after her, and I told her to hide here, and since then four more people have hidden here, too. People we know, Ember. And now they never have to get arrested.” She sniffled a little and wiped her eyes.

  I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

  She’d grown quiet, waiting for me to answer. I said the only thing I could think to say.

  “Mom’s gone, Beth.”

  I closed my eyes, not caring that we were in my house anymore, or that there were patrol cars outside, or that Beth’s yelling had probably alerted half the city to my presence. I was so tired of it, all of it. The running and the sneaking around and the cruel games that the world played.

  “That’s what Harmony’s brother said. I…” She sniffled. “I was really hoping it wasn’t true.” Her eyes shifted to Chase. “Did he know?”

  He was crouched near my feet, watching me, never turning to glance at anyone else. There was just enough light to glint off his eyes.

  “He knows,” I said weakly. “How did Harmony’s brother tell you?” Harmony, our friend from school, came slowly to mind. Long dark hair, almond-shaped eyes. I wondered absently if she was still dating Marcus Woodford.

  “He joined last Thanksgiving, remember?”

  “I remember. He’s playing both sides?” I pictured Marco and Polo.

  She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Kind of. He’s not supposed to talk to Harmony, isn’t that crazy? But apparently he can talk to me without breaking the rules. Anyhow, he followed me home one night and wanted news about his family. I told him I would tell him if he’d tell me what they did with you.”

  “You must have freaked,” I said.

  “Was it your friend’s brother that told you to start a checkpoint?” Chase asked, diverting the conversation.

  She glared at him, still angry.

  “He doesn’t order me around,” she said stubbornly. “If anything, it’s the opposite. He wants to know about his family, he’s got to help me out.”

  It occurred to me that Beth had no idea that she was playing with fire. If Harmony’s brother tired of her blackmail he could instantly turn the tables and send her to rehab or worse.

  “He told you about the carriers?” I asked.

  Beth nodded. “He told me about this guy in Chicago that takes people somewhere safe, and sent him this top secret radio message.”

  “Beth…” I started, feeling the sudden urge to throttle her. “What you’re doing is really dangerous. Seriously.”

  She cast me a hurt look.

  “She’s saying the soldier could turn you in if he wanted,” explained Chase. “And if he knows about the safe house, and gets enough pressure from above to talk, a lot of people could die, not just you.”

  “Die?”

  It was as if she’d never considered that she could be killed. I felt very sorry, and very worried for her just then.

  “What did he tell you about the safe house?” I asked.

  Beth was frowning now.

  “Nothing besides a guy comes and takes you there. He came last week and tagged your house all up with spray paint, I hope you don’t mind. He says all the places like this have that on them. He calls himself Truck ‘’cause I drive the truck,’” she quoted in a manly voice. “Stephen heard from someone at the soup kitchen where … where your mom used to work that I’d opened shop here.”

  She leaned forward and whispered, “He’s got a warrant. For an Article Three.”

  Article 3. Whole families are to be considered one man, one woman, and children. I could still see the Statutes we read over and over in the reformatory as though they were right in front of my face.

  I looked into Beth’s puffy eyes, and all of a sudden everything—all my fear for her, and the anger at how naïve she was being, and the relief at seeing her, but also the crushing disappointment that she wasn’t who I’d wanted her to be—collided into one big black pit inside of me. It festered when I thought of how stupid I’d been, fooled into thinking my mother was still alive. How once again I’d thrown Chase and myself into the eye of the storm for the same naïveté I saw in Beth.

  She was chewing on her lower lip, and flipping the flashlight from hand to hand.

  “It was my idea to go by your mom’s name,” she said. “I figured since Lori was already … I figured it couldn’t do much harm since she wasn’t going to be coming back here. She was always so brave. It’s like she wasn’t scared of anything.” She hiccupped, then wiped her eyes again. “I figured this place could be, like, dedicated to her or something.”

  Before she could say anything further, I scrambled up off the floor and escaped down the hallway toward my bedroom.

  CHAPTER

  14

  “GO back to bed. This is between your mother and me.”

  He stood over her—this man she’d said would complete our family. His shadow blanketed her body on the floor, where she was trying to pull herself up by one of the dresser drawers. When she saw me standing behind him, she gave a small, pained gasp, and covered her cheek with both hands.

  She was too late; I’d already seen the mark.

  Somehow, I was beside her, helping her up, telling myself she’d fallen. That was all. It was an accident. My mother didn’t let anyone hit her. My mother was the bravest woman I’d ever met.

  And then it was tearing through me, all the rage and disappointment and disgust.

  “Get out.” I blocked him as he reached toward her, already apologizing for the red welt on her cheek, and the tears that made it glisten. I jumped up and snatched the lamp, hefting it over my shoulder. “Get out!”

  “Ember, stop it.” My mom was standing now. “Go back to your room.”

  I couldn’t believe she’d said that.

  “You know I’d never hurt you.” Roy’s voice broke. He put his hands on his hips. He started crying.

  “You did!” I screamed.

  His shoulders bobbed as he cried, but I had no pity for him. Only relief as he walked out. The front door slammed, rattling the pictures on th
e wall.

  She pushed past me and raced after him, but he was already driving away, tires screeching around the corner. I met her at the door, the lamp still gripped in one hand, its power cord tailing after me like a snake. I was shaking. I wanted to scream.

  “Why’d you do that?” She grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “That was none of your business, Ember. None of your business! What goes on in my—”

  I didn’t wait for her to say any more. I ran to my room, hid under the covers, and cried until the power shut off and the sky outside turned black. Until the floor groaned under her weight and she curled up next to me.

  “You’re not scared of anything, are you?” she whispered.

  * * *

  THERE was nothing inside my bedroom. All my things, the bed I’d slept in since I was old enough to have a bed, my bookshelves filled with worn novels, the dresser with the gold handles that my mother had found at a garage sale, they were all gone. Had they tossed them into a junkyard? Given them to a donation center? These were my things. These were the only pieces I had left of my mother. Of my life. Why did they have to take everything?

  “Do you have any surveillance, Stephen?” I heard Chase say, leading him back toward the kitchen.

  I turned to see Beth holding a paper bag just inside the door. I’d never seen her look timid in my life, and realizing I’d scared her made me feel awful. I couldn’t blame her for not being my mother. I couldn’t even blame her for not knowing the danger she was in. It was definitely something one had to experience to believe.

  “Em-Ember,” she stammered. “Why’ve you got a gun?”

  I’d forgotten it was in the back of my waistband. She would have seen it, standing behind me now.

  “It’s nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s not even mine. It’s Chase’s.”

  “Oh,” she said slowly. I could see the whites of her eyes reflected in the glow from her flashlight. “I, um, I brought, like, a ton of food over for Stephen in case some more people came, but no one else has come in the past couple days.” She set the bag on the floor between us like she was offering a scrap of meat to a wild animal.

  I knelt, and tore into a package of crackers and peanut butter. I hadn’t realized how famished I was.

  Beth inched back toward the door. “I heard the craziest thing. Did you know that they’re saying you know this guy that, like, killed all these people?” The way she said it made me wonder if she really thought it was all that crazy.

  “I heard something about that.” I forced myself to put the crackers down.

  “They posted your photo at the mini-mart two days ago with four other guys,” she said. “There’s a big sign right underneath that says Have you seen this person? No one at school believes it. Well, Marty Steiner and her bunch do, but you know them, they’re just a bunch of gossip queens.”

  I could barely picture Marty Steiner. I couldn’t remember a world where the power of gossip queens outweighed the brutality of armed soldiers.

  I realized I needed to tell Beth something to ease her fears, but I wasn’t sure what to say. If she was caught, forced by the MM to talk, she’d know too many things she shouldn’t. I thought of Tubman, the carrier in Knoxville. He had it right, avoiding people’s names. I almost wished we hadn’t seen Beth, but the selfish part of me was glad we did.

  “I can’t tell you everything,” I said honestly.

  “You’re my best friend,” she frowned. “At least you were. You’re acting really weird.”

  “I know.” But I didn’t. Weird had become my baseline. Whatever sense of calm I held now was actually a reprieve from the emotional roller coaster I usually rode.

  “Did you kill those people?”

  “No!” I stepped forward and she stepped back. She lifted the flashlight like a sword and I felt a sob choke off my windpipe.

  “No, I haven’t killed anyone,” I said more slowly, in the kind of tone Chase used when I was scared. “You know me, I wouldn’t do that.”

  “You’re wearing a Sisters of Salvation uniform. I would have never thought you’d join them. You’d say it was too pro-government. Like it fed the invasion or something.”

  I sighed. She had a point. “When did they come here anyway?”

  “Two weeks ago. They’re teaching classes now.”

  “At Western?” I asked incredulously.

  “Yup. They’re all over town, too. At soup kitchens and stuff. People say they came from some Sisterhood Training Center in Dallas.”

  I pictured a manufacturing warehouse. Normal girls entering through one door, and coming out another in full, conservative uniform. For a brief instant I thought of Rebecca. What a zombie she’d been, or at least pretended to be, when I’d first met her.

  “Well, I’m not a Sister. The uniform’s borrowed, just like the gun.”

  “Why do you need the gun if you’re not shooting people?”

  “I was framed, okay?” I said, frustrated. “It’s … for my protection.”

  “Stop me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but doesn’t packing heat generally make you less safe?”

  I snickered. “I’m not packing heat, loser, I’m … I don’t know.”

  “You’re packing heat,” she asserted. “You’re like some crazy secret agent now.”

  I laughed despite myself. “I’ve missed you. A lot.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” But she half smiled.

  “We’re trying to get to a safe house.” Eventually.

  “Like the one Truck goes to?” she asked, referring to the Chicago carrier.

  “He didn’t tell you where it is?” I asked. She shook her head. She had no idea what she was doing. But again, maybe it was better if she didn’t know.

  “Yeah, we’re going somewhere like that. And you should too.”

  “Um, sort of got responsibilities here,” she said, sounding more like herself again.

  I shook my head, feeling a sharp pang of regret. “I wanted to graduate, too, but…”

  She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She only did that when her feelings were hurt.

  “This?” I realized. “This is your responsibility? You need to stop doing this. You should get out of town. Take your parents and your brother and go somewhere.”

  “Ember, you’re freaking me out.”

  I grabbed her shoulders and she flinched. “You should be freaked out!”

  She stared at me unknowingly for a second before whipping away.

  “It was for you!” she said, crying again. “I wanted to make sure what happened to you never happened again!”

  I fell back, stung. Never again? It was like trying to explain to a child why bad things happened. I couldn’t make her understand. And worse, I thought in her shoes I wouldn’t have understood either.

  “I … I know, I’m sorry. But, see, I’m okay. So you don’t have to worry about me. And you’ve got your family and yourself to look out for. Let people with less to lose risk it all.” People like me.

  “Less to lose?” she said, an edge to her voice. “They took my best friend and killed her mom! What more excuse do I need to try to help?”

  As much as I didn’t want to, I got that.

  “How’s Ryan?” I asked, diverting her for a moment while I thought of a way to get her to see reason.

  She turned toward a shadowed corner and knelt. A shine of the flashlight revealed a moving box.

  “I don’t know,” she said petulantly. “I don’t care either.”

  “You two broke up?” Ryan, with his studious jacket and school uniform, had had a crush on Beth since our freshman year. I had a hard time believing he wasn’t in the picture.

  “Yup.”

  “Wow. Why? He didn’t get drafted, did he?”

  She shook her head. “He’s not a big fan of me hanging out here.”

  I ignored the sharp stab of betrayal. Ryan had been my friend, too. He was there when I’d been arrested, but he wasn’t as brave, or as stupid, as Beth. He was smart. He was right
.

  I collapsed beside her on the floor.

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about! You shouldn’t be here! I doubt your parents know or they’d have padlocked your door. What happens if Harmony’s brother turns you in? You don’t want to go to rehab, Beth, I’m serious.” If they even bring you that far.

  “I’m older than you by four months,” she said sharply. “Stop lecturing me.”

  I snorted. The truth was she didn’t feel older anymore. I felt older. Years and years older. I’d experienced things Beth hopefully wouldn’t for a long time, if ever.

  “Here,” she said, softer now. “This is all I could save for you.”

  She shoved the box into my knees, and I saw a full outfit, bra included, some silverware, half-used shampoo, a nail file, and a pre-War magazine. My fingers slid down the crinkled, waterlogged pages. My mom had liked to read these. She traded them with the ladies that volunteered at the soup kitchen. Knowing her hands had been on this, just as mine were now, provided me a small bit of comfort. I thought of the pictures Chase had, and his mother’s ring, but I wasn’t jealous. This was who she was. Someone who broke little rules she didn’t deem necessary. Someone who preferred to focus on the good and interesting things in life rather than the bleakness of our future.

  “How’d you get all these clothes?” I asked.

  “You left them at my house.”

  Yes, I remembered now. I sometimes borrowed Beth’s washing machine and left some spare clothes to wear while the others were being cleaned. The jeans and sweatshirt weren’t my favorite, but they would fit, and so would the bra.

  I gathered the clothes and the magazine and carefully tied them inside the body of the sweatshirt for later.

  “He really bailed you out of reform school?” she asked, tipping her head down the hallway.

  “That and a lot more.”

  She sighed. “The way he looks at you … like if I twisted your arm, his would fall off or something. Ryan never looked at me like that.”

  “He’s sort of protective.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “Obviously.” She snorted. “You still love him, don’t you?”