The Unforgiven (The Propagation Project Book 1)

by Callie Bishop

  “Sleep,” she says.

  And just like that I do.

  * * * *

  Luka and I compare whammy marks on our arms and legs. The healing burns itch like hell, but I resist scratching. We lie in a dark corner of the room, like 2 pieces of broken furniture. My body aches inside and out. The Capital doesn’t care if they zap our brains into mush. It’s our bodies they need. We are vessels. A means to an end.

  “They give the babies away,” I say mindlessly.

  Luka studies my face. “To who?”

  I shrug and feel the soreness in my shoulders. “She didn’t say.”

  Luka shakes his head. “Just when you think it can’t be anymore fucked up.”

  “Maybe we should just end ourselves right now.” I nestle in the corner of the wall. I dreamt of being at Razor Pointe some nights ago. Shane in the lake. How long would it be before those memories disappear? They are already starting to fade. Thoughts of everything I’ll miss out in life haunt the hours in this room. A husband. Children. A life of my own. “Some great stories end like that. Like those two in the books my mom used to read. Romeo and Juliet.”

  “I don’t know that story,” Luka says.

  “I don’t remember the whole thing,” I say.

  “Tell me what you remember.” Luka lays his head in my lap. Without thought, I stroke his russet hair. It’s grown during our time here, but the longer look suits him.

  “It’s about a boy and a girl who are in love, but their families hate each other and forbid their romance. Something happens and they’re separated.”

  “No happy ending for them then, huh?” Luka says. His eyes are closed. His body still.

  “No,” I say. I strain to think of the details. It’s been so long since I’d gone through Mom’s dusty collection. “When Juliet is set to marry another, she takes a potion that renders her in a sleep so deep it mimics death. She sends a messenger to Romeo, but he never gets it. Romeo kills himself when he finds out, and then Juliet kills herself when she wakes and finds Romeo dead.”

  “This is a terrible story,” Luka says.

  I laugh softly. “Tragic but beautiful all the same.”

  Just when I think Luka’s asleep he sits up and my hands fall into my lap.

  “I would have liked to be your friend on the outside, you know,” he says. His paling face is flushed. “Spend time with you in your ward. Maybe even try to kiss you.”

  My cheeks blush. The silent room begins to hum. We were just numbers to each other once. The thought of witnessing one of his outbursts made me dread going to the cafeteria. Now, this time we spend together is the only thing keeping me sane. It’s the closest I’ve ever felt with another person. However our story unfolds, I know we will always be a part of each other.

  I open my mouth to respond, but before I can the food window slides open.

  Luka and I look at each other.

  A fourth meal?

  We both stand and stare at the void in the wall. Luka takes a few steps forward.

  “Wait,” I say. “Don’t get too close.”

  “I don’t think anything’s going to jump out of it.”

  He takes a few steps closer. “Is that…?”

  Jasco is crouched in a space just big enough for him to fit. He signals us to follow. Luka and I exchange looks. I spring forward, but Luka catches me.

  “Hazel, you can’t,” he says. “We can’t trust him.”

  “We have to,” I say. “It’s our only chance.”

  I can see the internal debate in his eyes.

  I reach for his hand and pull him close. “This is our way out. Please, trust me.”

  He drops his fists from his waist and nods. In a rush of adrenaline and renewed energy, I grasp both sides of his face and plant a kiss on his lips. He stumbles back a bit, then leans deeper into the moment. When we break, I’m hit with a dizzy spell.

  I crawl into the duct behind Jasco and Luka follows.

  “I guess this would be a bad time to tell you I’m claustrophobic,” he says.

  There’s nothing I can do to comfort him, so I press on. Jasco is nimble and maneuvers through the tunnel with ease. The whammy burns on my hands and feet are screaming. I’m not sure how long this second wind will last.

  Through the darkness, a faint light appears. Relief sets in as the light grows brighter. Soon, Jasco drops through another hole in the wall. I fall out with Luka close behind me. Margaret stands across the room.

  “Where are we?” I ask as I look around.

  “A safe room.” Margaret grabs some chairs out of the closet and sets them around a small metal folding table in the middle of the room. It’s the only furniture here except for a few filing cabinets. “It’s for Official staff, but no one ever comes here.” She gestures for us to sit while she unlocks a drawer from one of the cabinets. “It was deemed defective by some Official Inspectors and labeled as unusable.”

  “Defective?” I ask, curious how a room could be defective.

  “This room is intended to protect secret Official meetings and information. When the Inspectors found that the room key had become compromised, it became defective. If there’s one rule the Officials have, it’s to write off anything that is of no use to them.” Margaret sits down in the chair.

  “How do you think it became defective?” I ask.

  “Because I told Jasco to hack into the keypad and make sure of it.”

  “You’re a mole?” Luka asks.

  Margaret takes a moment, maybe to consider the word. “I prefer undercover operative.”

  “Tell us the truth about what’s happening,” I say.

  “I can’t. Not yet. But I can tell you that you were right. Your mother was murdered.”

  “What really happened to her,” I say.

  Margaret exhales as though she is about to unload a huge burden off her shoulders.

  “Your mother was offered a job with a higher title working for another hospital. She was torn on whether to take the job or not. Your father wanted her to take it because the pay was a lot better. She consulted me about it and said that she felt like a traitor leaving her patients. It was a crap job in a broken-down hospital the Officials had forgotten years ago, but she loved her job there. She took the new job since your father kept pressuring her. It’s then when it started to happen.”

  I look at Margaret longingly, waiting for her to continue the story. “What?” I ask.

  “Your mother had a knack for investigating things that didn’t make sense. I remained at the same hospital for some time after your mother left. We would still write each other letters to keep in touch. I would tell her about the patients coming in with strange symptoms that I had never seen before. The doctors had no idea how to treat them and some were dropping like flies. Your mother started doing some research on her end even though I pleaded with her to stay out of it. She insisted.”

  More than a few times, my father had mentioned I’d taken after my mother’s stubbornness. He saw it as a weakness, when I considered it meant refusing to settle for less than what I deserve.

  “What was happening?” Luka asks.

  “Your mother sent me one last letter.” Margaret reaches into her front pocket and pulls out a worn piece of paper. She hands it over for me to read.

  I unfold the letter, careful not to tear the delicate paper. I recognize my mother’s handwriting right away and begin reading the letter to myself.

  Dear Margaret,

  The more I learn about what is going on around here the more I am convinced the Officials are out to exterminate us in the outer wards. I fear there is something in the works that is more terrifying than anything we’ve ever seen. I’ve seen nurses and doctors disappear overnight. Sometimes, I worry that I am going too far. I fear that I too will disappear. But I know what the right thing to do is, and so I will continue on another day.

  With love,

  Catherine

  I hold the letter in my hands for a few seconds while I graze the in
k on the paper with my fingers. It is a piece of my mother I never knew existed, and my heart wrenches for her. I hand the letter to Luka, who is staring at me, maybe waiting for some kind of reaction.

  “What does it mean?” I ask her.

  “Not sure,” she says. “Soon after, the Affliction was in full bloom, and I became overwhelmed with an understaffed and undersupplied hospital full of people wondering what was happening to them.”

  I was only ten years old, but I remember when the cancer spread so quickly through my mother’s body. It was like a parasite that took her, eating away at her until she was nothing but skin on bones.

  I look over to Luka who folds the letter back up and hands it to Margaret. “So, where do you come in with all of this?”

  Margaret continues to tell Luka and I how she intended to continue my mother’s quest to expose the truth when she was asked to take this job at the Antioch center.

  Luka shares the story of the Ruser he tattooed spouting information about the Officials and the Affliction. “I’m not sure how credible information from a Ruser is,” he says.

  “Not all Rusers are what you think. Jasco’s a Ruser. He came into my hospital hopped up on Black Dust a few years ago. I helped him kick the drugs, and we formed a close bond. He used to work as a computer engineer for the Officials under a different alias until they fired him.”

  “We have to do something,” I say.

  “I have friends, including some Officials, keeping me informed with what’s going on outside of here,” Margaret says.

  “How do we get out of here unnoticed?” Luka says.

  “Each floor contains a secret evacuation route,” Jasco says, “in case we need to escort any Officials out of the building and avoid the main exits. If we can get to the thirteenth floor, we can access the evacuation route, which will lead us outside the building.”

  “Where will you go once you’re out?” Margaret says.

  “Salem,” Luka says, “I know people there who can help us hide.”

  I’m not leaving without Netty,” I say in a tone that makes it obvious I’m not in the mood to negotiate.

  “She can go into labor—”

  “I’m not leaving without my sister.”

  Margaret gives Jasco a look, and he leaves the room.

  “Where’s he going?” Luka says.

  Margaret grabs a bag from one of the filing cabinets. “Here.” She hands the backpack to Luka. “A few essentials you might need. There’s a mobile phone in the false bottom. It has only two numbers. Mine and my contact on the outside. Do not access the phone until you are far away from here. Once you get to the thirteenth floor, find a stairwell marked with a Black E. You’ll find a door that leads to the outside. It’s nearing midnight, so you have that on your side.”

  “How are we supposed to get to the thirteenth floor?” I say.

  Margaret gestures to the hole in the wall. “The same way you got here.”

  Luka’s face twists. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “The food ducts connect each floor. Every ascent you make is a floor. You won’t know which room you’re in until you get out.”

  “What floor are we on now?” I ask.

  Luka braces for the answer.

  “Ten.”

  “Thank God,” Luka says.

  “There’s one more thing,” she says. “Your ICCs are programmed to set off an alarm if you leave the building.” She pauses and looks at us as though this bit of information will discourage us from continuing. “They have to come out.” She pulls out a first aid kit and a scalpel. “Who’s first?”

  “I am.” I sit at the table and lay my arm down.

  Margaret turns my wrist so that I see the red glow twinkle. She carefully breaks the area of skin around the chip, not cutting too deeply. I wince in pain but force myself to keep my eyes open. The knife is so sharp that at first I feel nothing. As the blade cuts deeper, the pain becomes more intense, and I clench my other hand in a fist. Luka looks at me, my pain reflecting in his face.

  “It’s important to keep the chip intact. We have one hour from the time it is removed before it shuts down and security is notified.”

  The chip is not imbedded deep but pinches at my flesh when she removes it from my wrist. Margaret lays it on the table and wipes the blood dripping from my arm. It takes her seconds to cover up its absence with a bandage.

  “Use the phone to contact me once you think you’re a safe distance away. No matter what time of day.” She sterilizes the scalpel with some rubbing alcohol and performs the procedure on Luka.

  “One hour,” Margaret says. “Find the blooming crepe myrtle, and she’ll be there.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Your sister.”

  Chapter 13

  There is no air circulation in these ducts. I lead the way with sweat dripping from my brow and stinging my eyes. Luka crawls behind me, muttering reassuring phrases to himself.

  “We have to be close,” I say.

  Margaret told us we have one hour before security is alerted. It’s impossible for me to know how much time we’ve spent crawling, but it feels longer than it should.

  It’s dead quiet, and I’m sure every breath I exhale can be heard by everyone. Luka grabs my arm just below the bandage that now covers the hole in my wrist. The sweat dews on the nape of my neck. I count the number of ascents…one, two, three. We army crawl a little farther when I see the notch in the duct.

  “I think we’re here,” I whisper.

  “Already?” he says with sarcasm.

  I take a few seconds to catch my breath. There is a small lip on the outline of the wall. I try to slide the door with one hand.

  “I can’t get it,” I say in between tries.

  “Let me,” Luka says.

  I slide farther down the duct and hear Luka do the same. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I hear him making hard contact with the door. A few more hits and the pocket door break open. Luka slides out and then reaches back for my legs. He pulls and I slip out.

  I wipe my damp forehead with the back of my hand. The room is black, but there is a faint light through the small piece of glass on the door. Luka reaches back for me.

  “Hold on tight to me,” he says. “We walk together.”

  I do as he says and reach for his hand. He leads me to the door.

  “Fuck,” he says. “It’s locked.”

  My stomach drops.

  Before I can say anything, Luka kicks the door. It crashes open and we both stand frozen, waiting for someone to throw burlap bags over our heads.

  I can barely make out Luka’s silhouette in the dark. He gestures a “let’s go” and we enter the hallway. We walk a few feet when we both see a bank of elevators. The number “13” prominently displayed. At least I know after all those whammies I can still count.

  We make it to a stairwell just as footsteps echo down the hall. We crouch behind the door as the steps become louder. The doorknob jiggles, and Luka and I throw all our body weight against the door. This isn’t the right stairwell.

  I hear a muffled sound of a man’s voice. He says something into a walkie talkie. Security by the sound of it. The sand in the hourglass is quickly falling, and I feel my confidence falling along with it.

  My heart jumps in my throat when Luka lets the door open. The guard walks through and Luka knocks him out cold. Luka grabs something from the guard and tucks into the waist of his pants.

  “Let’s go,” he says, reaching for my hand.

  Luka and I turn the corner and find the stairwell marked with a black “E”. I hear the quick swooshing of my heartbeat in my ears and try to swallow the dry lump in my throat. A deafening alarm blares in the background. My legs burn from fatigue. For a second, I think I won’t be able to run anymore until Luka stops so abruptly that I practically collide into him.

  We’ve reached the door that leads outside.

  “They’ve locked down the doors,” he says. “Stand back.”
<
br />   He pulls the gun he swiped from the guard out of his waist. I shield my eyes as the bullet makes contact with the doorknob and debris flicks at our faces. Luka kicks the door open and drags me outside.

  I feel the fresh air on my face, the first time in months. The air seeps into my body, and I inhale the sweet scent of the outdoors. It’s windy and the air is damp. I look at Luka and notice how bad of shape he’s in. He has a pretty nasty cut above his eye, and the area around his jaw is bruised. We take a second to assess where we are, and my first instinct is to look for Netty.

  “Crepe Myrtle,” I say.

  The wind tosses my hair like a whip. There is a flash of light just beyond the tree line, but it’s gone in an instant. I squint harder, straining my vision, until I think I see the outline of a person hiding behind the trunk of a large tree. The light flashes again, and I’m sure that it’s not a figment of my imagination.

  “This way,” I say to Luka.

  We run against the wind, avoiding the huge spotlights sweeping the ground. As we get closer, I can make out Jasco holding a flashlight. He leads us up a hill and into a patch of tall bushes. He separates the branches of one of the bushes and steps through into a small clearing. I’m so close behind Jasco I’m practically stepping on the heels of his shoes.

  In the clearing, Netty is waiting. We spot each other at the same time, and I run to her. Netty wraps her arms around me as tightly as she can with her swollen belly in the way.

  “I was so worried when I heard the alarm,” she says.

  I assure her I’m okay.

  “What now?” Luka says.

  The alarm stops and is replaced by the wind whirling through the trees. The chill of the air begins to creep up on me, and goosebumps rise on my skin as the sweat dries from the back of my neck.

  “There’s a maintenance gate about 50 yards in that direction.” Jasco points toward some distance in the darkness. The wall surrounding the building is too tall to climb and there’s no way we are going to dig beneath it.

  We all perk our ears for a second and hear the distinct yapping of Jackals.

  “We need to move now,” Luka says.

  Netty is panting heavily as she manages to walk quickly amongst the brush and rocky terrain. She trips a few times, and I grab her arm to help her maneuver the unstable ground.