by J B Cantwell
She was just as well and whole as ever.
I walked down the hall to the living room and sat down on a side chair.
“I’ll patch you up, but then you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” she called from the bathroom. “Do you hear me?”
“Yeah, Ma.”
It was weird, talking to her like this, like she was normal. Like we were normal.
She emerged into the hallway, her hands full. She came over to me and dropped the contents onto the couch. Some gauze that looked like it had been around since I was a little kid, a pair of scissors, rubbing alcohol, some packing tape and a roll of toilet paper.
“What do you think you’re going to do with all this?” I asked.
She stepped back, taking in the scene.
“I’m not sure, exactly.”
I suddenly had an uncontrollable urge to laugh. I desperately tried to stop myself, but a thin smile betrayed my stoic face.
This was ridiculous.
“Come on, now. Let me see it.”
I did as I was told and removed the sock from my hand.
It looked better now, and a lot of the bleeding had stopped.
“Do they have nurses where you’re staying? Like, in the, what do you call them, the barracks?”
Now, I did let a laugh escape my lips.
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“Good. You know I can’t afford a doctor.”
My stomach sank. Of course she couldn’t. This was her doing her best. The mommy show. I wondered how much of it was real.
She splashed some alcohol onto a fist full of toilet paper and held it to my wound. It stung, but only a little.
“When you get back there, you should go right to the nurse. You need stitches, and I don’t know how to do that kind of thing.”
She took the scissors and cut a strip from what remained of my white sock. Then she wrapped it around my hand and covered the entire thing in tape. She sat back, inspecting her work.
“It will get you there. Sorry I don’t have any pain meds. I went through all those, you know, before.”
I nodded, silent. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.
“So, tell me what kind of trouble you’re in.” She sat down on the couch and took off her shoes, tucking her feet beneath her legs on the cushion.
Trouble.
That’s what I was in. And I seemed to be getting in deeper and deeper with every moment that passed by.
They had no proof, that was the thing. All they knew was that they didn’t know where I was. Maybe they had tracked down the runner by now who was carrying my chip information. But they didn’t have me.
I desperately wished that I had stayed in the Stilts, made them allow me to. I didn’t want to play this game of cat and mouse with Hannah or Alex or the Service or anyone. What I really wanted, above all else, was to feel safe.
But I was about as far away from safe as it was possible to be. I hadn’t felt safe since I was a young child. Since my mom … since before she’d disappeared, folding in upon herself, lubricating with as much alcohol as she could get her hands on.
Safe. It was a fallacy. A fantasy.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I finally said. I looked down at my hand, which was throbbing now. I hoped that she was right, that there was someone who could patch me up if I went back to the recruitment center.
She seemed unfocused for a few moments, sort of dazed. Then, a thin trickle of a tear rolled down her cheek.
“I don’t blame you. But maybe I can help you this time.”
“Why? Why would you? You know they’ll reward you if you turn me in. Especially now that I don’t have my designation. You can prove to them everything that they already suspect.”
“Like what?” she whispered, wiping away her tears with the backs of her hands. “Did you do something? Kill someone or something? Isn’t that normal, you know, in war?”
In war. Sure, I had killed someone. More than just one someone.
“No, Mom. That’s not it.”
“What, then?”
I took a deep breath, trying to decide if I should trust her. Because wasn’t that my hope all along? That I could come back home in my darkest hour and find her ready to help?
She already knew too much. It wouldn’t be too far off for her to put the pieces together, herself, anyway.
I lowered my voice, though I wasn’t sure why. Were there cameras here? Microphones? Had things gone that far yet? I looked around, searching for some indication of surveillance, but I found nothing. And the truth was, the Service probably already had enough on me to arrest me, to kill me, even.
“Okay,” I finally decided. “But you have to keep it to yourself. They’ll torture me otherwise.”
I had to tell her. If I intended to hide here and wait for the runner, she needed a reason, and the truth was the easiest.
She nodded her head.
“Mom, I’m serious.”
“Yes, I know. I won’t tell a soul. I promise. No matter how bad it is.”
I sat up in my seat, wondering where to start.
“The Service … well, it isn’t what everybody thinks. I don’t think it’s possible to survive the three year tour, actually. When I was there, in battle, I found out about a group called the Volunteers. They’re the ones that live in the Stilts all around the perimeter of Manhattan. I’ve been talking to them while I’ve been home. One of them is on their way here right now to restore my designation.”
“Restore it? How? I didn’t even know it was possible to do away with it in the first place.”
“Me, neither.” I sat back against the cushion. I was tired from the day’s events, and my palm was throbbing worse than ever. “But they can. And that’s part of why I’m in so much trouble right now. If they find me, if Hannah finds me, I’m done for. There are only two ways for someone to wipe their designation: have the government do it, or have one of the Volunteers do it. Those two groups are the only ones who have the tools.”
“And it wasn’t the Service that did it,” she stated.
I shook my head. “No.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. There’s someone on their way here with it right now. If they can get past Hannah without her picking up the signal, then I’ll be in good shape. If I have the designation reinstated, it’ll look like nothing had happened at all. They won’t have any proof.”
Though I wasn’t so sure that they would require proof to do whatever they wished with me. It seemed lately that most of my conversations were enough to charge me with treason.
“So, after this runner person finds you, what are you going to do next?”
I looked longingly at the couch, and I couldn’t stifle a yawn.
“I don’t know. Maybe rest for a while. Until I’m ready to go back into the fray. Is that … would that be okay?”
I needed to sleep. Outside, the sun had set, and the day had left me ragged with exhaustion. And who would be surprised to find me here, at my mother’s house, designation restored? Hannah might return, but so what? She didn’t have the authority or the ability to arrest me. She was a slip of a girl, and scrappy as she was, I outweighed her by an easy thirty pounds. I could definitely defend myself against an attack from her. Assuming she wasn’t armed.
“What are you going to do about these people? These … Volunteers?”
What was I going to do? I was just about to open my mouth to answer the question when I heard it.
Someone was knocking at the door.
Chapter Five
He didn’t say a word. He scanned the room behind Mom’s head and then pushed his way in, drawing out the metal device as he did so.
Andrew Flate
Designation: Orange
He pressed the tip of it to my chip, and as soon as he did, my lens came back to life, Green designation still in place. No lawbreaker, no one of any interest at all.
I decided then and there to
stay away from the Stilts for the rest of my trip. I only had two days left, anyway, and all this running was exhausting, both mentally and physically.
“Is there another way out?” Andrew said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Why? Is she still out there?”
“She’s not alone.”
My stomach twisted.
“How many?”
“Just one other. A serviceman. You should stay here tonight. They’ll just chase you if you try to leave now.”
“They’ll chase me tomorrow, too.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But you’re better off waiting. She’s gotta tire out sometime. Now how do I get out of here unseen?” He looked around the room, seeing the window that was set behind the dining table. “Fire escape?”
“That’s how I got up here, yeah.”
“Got it.” He walked over to the window and unlocked it, opening it as far as it would go, only about halfway. As he slipped his leg through the opening, he looked up at me. “Good luck.”
I nodded, silent.
And then he was gone.
I hadn’t realized it, but I had missed my old, squeaky mattress. Mom had agreed that I should stay, and I was so tired I didn’t know what I would do otherwise. It was too late for me to get back to the base before they locked the doors, anyway.
What if Hannah came back? Or worse … what if my mom turned me in? Were Hannah and the guard able to see my designation through the building? Did they have an aerial map of the city? Did they know I was here?
I could run all night long, but if they were able to track me down, it would look terribly suspicious. In fact, no matter what I did, it would look suspicious.
So I slept.
My dreams were untroubled for once. In this place, in this tiny room, I felt a measure of safety I hadn’t felt in a long time. I had spent my whole childhood planning how to escape, how to make things work for myself so that I would never have to return. But, somehow, coming back now felt good. The anger I had felt the other day had evaporated, not because it had gone for good, but because I needed this. I needed her. To keep me. To protect me.
I slept through the night, and through the sunrise as well. When I finally awoke, I sat up in the bed and immediately realized that my hand had gotten worse. I needed to get it checked as soon as I could.
I pulled on my fatigues shirt, but I was going to need help with my boots. I put them on and clomped my way out of the room and into the hall.
Something smelled … different. I walked into the kitchen and found Mom standing at the stove, pushing around a batch of egg substitute in a pan.
“Oh!” she said, surprised. “I thought I would make you a little breakfast. You seemed so tired, I just left you in there for a while longer. But it is getting late. I figured I would wake you when the eggs were done.”
I frowned. Mom. Mother. Suddenly helpful, loving.
It wasn’t eggs that I needed.
“I need you to help me with my boots,” I said. I held up my bandaged hand lamely. It was throbbing again, but this time the pain was shooting up my forearm, too.
She looked at it, concerned. “Are you hungry at all? Go sit down at the table, and we’ll get you sorted.”
I did as I was told, and I watched while she slid the eggs onto a large plate, one of the few she hadn’t smashed over the years. She set the meal in front of me and offered me a fork.
“Do you want salt?”
“Yeah, okay.” I picked up the small shaker that sat in the center of the table and shook some of it onto the eggs. Then, as she watched me expectantly, I picked up my fork and took a bite.
She nodded her head, satisfied with my acceptance of food, and retreated back into the kitchen, grabbing a small towel to wipe the pan clean.
I was surprised at how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten for at least a day, and I soon found myself wolfing down the food. I wondered vaguely what they put into “egg substitute,” but I didn’t really care. It was better than the mash the Service fed us by a long shot.
She walked over and put a large glass of filtered water in front of me. I took a few gulps. It still tasted a bit like chlorine, but it was better than what came out of the tap.
She sat down at the table with me, folding her hands in her lap.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.
I stopped chewing for a moment, thinking.
“I guess I could ask the same question of you. Are you going to turn me in?”
Her eyes grew wide. “But—I—I would never turn you in.”
I swallowed my mouthful of egg, considering. “A year ago you would have.”
She was silent for a few moments, looking down at her hands.
“A lot has changed since then,” she finally whispered.
“A lot has changed for me, too. You know that if you turned me in, they would kill me, right? They would hear your story, hear about that man who was here yesterday and what you had seen us do together. You would tell them about how I’d been invisible, my designation blank. And they would reward you. So why should I trust you?”
Her eyes flashed, suddenly angry.
“I let you sleep here last night, and do you see anyone at the door coming for you? Have you been taken away?”
She paused again, wiping the edges of her eyes with a nearby paper napkin.
“I’m trying to help you, Riley. But I can’t do it unless you let me.”
I softened at this. It was true. She had let me stay the night, and she hadn’t raised the alarm. Heavy boots could be sprinting up the stairs right now, on their way here, and yet no one knocked on the door. No one shouted my name.
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you, I guess.” I raised the fork with my good hand and took another bite of the eggs, now too salted from my clumsy grip on the shaker.
“What will you do? Do you think they’ll come here, asking about you?”
“Probably.”
“Then we’d better get our story straight. You came to visit me, but I wasn’t home. You didn’t have a key, so you went around the backside of the building and busted your way in through the window. That was how you hurt your hand. Sound good so far?”
I sat back in my chair, nodding, waiting for more.
“I fixed you up as best I could, and you decided to stay the night. We didn’t talk much. That’s it. What do you think?”
“Well, it’s almost the truth. If you take away the part about me not having a designation and the man coming to give mine back to me. Can you remember it? Your story?”
“Of course I can.” She frowned. “I won’t tell, you know. It wouldn’t be worth the money. Not to lose you again.”
“You don’t … I’m not yours … I—”
“No, I understand. That’s not what I meant. But do you think you might visit me again? You know, to do something more than hide? Maybe we could spend a day or two together. Sometime.”
I let out a long breath.
“Yeah. Sometime. If I get out of this in one piece. Maybe then.”
It was a promise I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep it.
I pushed back the chair and stood up.
“Thanks for the eggs. And for letting me stay and all. You’ve been really nice.”
Her face fell at my words, but no new tears came. She walked up to me and hugged me. I was so surprised, I hugged her back.
“I’m so sorry. For everything. Things are different now. I can help you. Anything you want. Just message me, okay?”
She pulled away from the hug and looked me in the eye. She was smiling now.
“I’m so glad I was able to help you. Even if it was just this once.”
It was too much. I broke away from her and took a couple steps backward.
“Okay, well, thanks. Really.” I turned to go.
“I won’t tell, Riley. I really won’t. Not for all the booze in the world.”
The sides of my mouth turned up, my feeble att
empt at a smile.
Maybe she was telling the truth.
I turned to go, shoving my injured hand into my pocket.
“Thanks, Ma,” I said. And I opened the front door to leave, to deliver myself into Hannah’s loving arms.
Chapter Six
And there she sat. Waiting. She must have been there all night long. The skin around her eyes was dark and puffy. She did a double take as I walked right up to her.
“What a surprise,” I said. “Can I help you with something?”
Her eyes widened.
I had walked right out of the front door to our building as if nothing had happened. She stood up stiffly, clearly uncomfortable from what must have been a chilly night on the sidewalk.
But whatever the reason was that she was hunting me, I couldn’t think of a reason for her to take me in. Not now.
She forced her face from a look of surprise to a smirk.
“You’ll be coming with me, then.”
“What are you now? A police officer? And if so, what are the charges?”
Her face fell.
“You … you’ve been …”
She couldn’t seem to string a sentence together. She had nothing on me, and she knew it. The fugitive she’d been chasing had just appeared before her, and I had no intention of letting her take me anywhere.
I wondered whose orders she was acting on.
A hoarse, male voice came from behind me. “Taylor?”
I turned. The man was huge, clearly a result of a full phasing.
Jeremy Mason
Designation: Prime
What did they want with me?
My stomach dropped at the sight of him. He was so big he could’ve picked me up and carried me straight to jail if he wanted. Hannah probably couldn’t have lifted my weight if she’d trained for months to do it.
The Prime looked me up and down. Then, his eyes went out of focus slightly. He was looking at my designation, and closely. He frowned.