Fallen Firsts (Rebel Thirds Book 3)

by Jillian Torassa

  Luckily, Walter’s new Third soon appeared from the backyard, pushing an old, rusty bicycle in front of him. He was stooped and thin—he must have been reassigned, because he was at least thirty years older than me, and that meant if he messed up again, they would kill him.

  That was the only thing that kept me from trashing the place the minute I entered.

  Everything looked exactly the same: his giant TV, which covered the whole wall, stood blank and quiet, one chair sat at the table in the dining room, and the door to the forbidden wing remained tightly shut.

  I immediately headed toward it.

  In the dusty old bathroom, I flicked on the light and tossed the stolen tunics onto the floor. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the box of hair dye and looked at the color I had inadvertently chosen.

  Brown. Almost auburn. Like Martha’s.

  My vision blurred as the memory overtook me:

  I touched her long brown hair while she sang. It was the softest thing I had ever touched. Her blue eyes never left my face, not once, the entire time she sang. She smelled like purple—maybe lilac, maybe lavender, and as she rocked me, my eyes fluttered open and closed. It was so peaceful and warm that I just couldn’t stay awake.

  I blinked, the box of dye coming back into focus. What would she think of me now? She had died believing that Knowledge was evil. Would she be disappointed in me? In everything I now fought for? Surely she would have understood, if I had ever had the chance to explain things to her.

  Tightening my grip around the edges of the cardboard, I heard myself growl. It didn’t matter. She was dead, and I would never see her again. If I was lucky, after today, I’d never have to see Walter again, either. I ripped open the contents and let the bottle of dye tumble into my hand.

  Chapter Eleven

  Victor

  “Tell me one more time why this is a good idea.”

  Meghan was on her knees, scrubbing my bathroom floor while I stood in the doorway and watched her. She couldn’t control herself when she was nervous—this compulsion to clean was one that I was extremely uncomfortable with, but I had learned to step back and let her process her life however she needed to.

  And Mata had just left us an hour ago.

  Meghan sat up, wiping a loose lock out of her eyes with the back of her hand. “You didn’t admit to anything, so she has no proof that you’re working with Galilea against the Council. But if they suspect you and sent her to spy on you, we need to keep a closer eye on the situation.”

  “But a partnership would be an excellent way for her to get proof.”

  “Not if we’re careful.” She dropped back to her hands again and resumed scrubbing. “And if she’s genuinely on our side, then she would be a powerful asset. I think it’s worth the risk.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed slowly. “Okay. Well, it’s done now. I guess there’s no going back.” She didn’t respond, and I didn’t want to have another argument. Everyone—Meghan, Galilea, Jade, Gideon—had their own ideas about how to confront the Doctors, and though we all wanted the same thing, we weren’t working as a team.

  Without another word, I went to sit on the couch. I pulled the book Mata had flipped through earlier into my lap and opened it, but the words were a blur. It was possible that her story was true—that she had both told the Doctors where the rebels were and had tried to save them—especially if she was a double agent, like me. But she would need to keep up her credibility with both sides of the conflict, and there was no way of knowing which mask she wore at any given time. Meghan was right, of course. She would be a powerful alley because as far as the Doctors were concerned, she could go wherever she wanted and do whatever she wanted. She was a champion of the cause and therefore a god in their eyes.

  But they would also believe her unconditionally if she told them what I was.

  Considering the lack of success we’d had so far, though, we didn’t have much of a choice. We couldn’t find the files, and Galilea wasn’t having much success, either. We had reached a dead end, and if killing Gideon didn’t work (and Meghan was sure it wouldn’t), I didn’t know what else we would do. I supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have one more iron in the fire.

  “It’s getting late.” I don’t know how long Meghan had been standing there, watching me. “Galilea just paged me.”

  Eager to nip the tension between us in the bud, I reached my hand over the couch toward her. “Can’t you stay for a little while longer?”

  Her face softened as she took a step forward and placed her hand in mine. “I wish I could. But until things change, Galilea still uses that button, and besides . . . she needs me.”

  “I know,” I sighed, staring down at our grasped hands. “And your willingness to continue helping her is one of the reasons I love you.”

  When I looked back up, her eyes were glistening.

  “What’s wrong?” Jumping off the couch I hurried to her, and she buried her face into my shoulder.

  “I’m so scared,” she said in a shuddering voice.

  I brought a hand up to her silky hair and stroked it. I knew exactly how she felt. Our lives had been a vortex of both insanity and metamorphosis for almost a year now, and I was terrified of what would happen when the world finally stood still.

  “Victor?” she whispered, pulling her face out of my shirt and looking into my eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “I love you, too. You know that, right?”

  I planted a kiss on her forehead and pushed her head back into my shoulder. “Of course I do,” I said into her hair. “Of course.”

  ---

  My next few nights were a torturous, continuous parade of guilt and nausea. My dreams centered on death: scenes of the bombing in Erroris, Michael lying on my operating table, Gideon hanging by the neck from the gallows, Meghan scattered, bloody, in a million pieces all over my psyche—

  I woke up with a start, covered in sweat, three days after we had decided to partner with Mata. Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I fell back onto my pillow and pushed the palms of my hands into my eyes. Amidst the popping stars, I could still see the phantom, misty remains of my latest dream.

  I couldn’t go back to sleep.

  Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I stared at my reflection as steam filled the room, steadying my breathing and focusing my mind.

  My third meeting with Gideon wasn’t until later this afternoon—during the lunch hour. But if I got out of my apartment early enough, maybe I could address one of the other matters on my conscious first. Meghan would kill me, of course, but she didn’t need to know.

  I was out the door in twenty minutes, a breakfast bar in my hand as I set off quickly for the other side of town.

  As I drove, my eyes barely focused on the road. Though I had pushed him out of my mind, he still haunted my subconscious. Still visited my sleep. I don’t know what I hoped to accomplish by going to see them, but I had to do something.

  “Roke.” I pulled Michael’s bare shoulder off the table, and the worst was confirmed. “There’s no exit wound. The bullet is still inside of him.”

  The scarlet blood stood out sharply, alarmingly, from the paleness of his skin.

  He had been my best friend at school. We were children together, and that was a bond that could never be broken, despite everything that would later happen between us.

  Michael’s blood pressure dropped, and I knew what was going to happen; I knew it with my brain, even if my heart wasn’t ready to accept it.

  A tremor travelled up my spine as I drove past a row of Second houses, taking a sharp left down a much dirtier street. I didn’t want to remember. But that was a cowardly desire. Besides, I would have to let myself relive it in order to get the determination I needed to face his parents.

  “What do you expect me to say?” I asked him, my face burning and my stomach turning after he confessed his feelings for me.

  “I—I don’t
know,” he stuttered, studying his hands. “I guess I just wanted you to know.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “We need to stabilize him and call for transport to the north island. We don’t have what we need here. Defibrillator.”

  Meghan immediately obeyed, and his body jerked under the paddles.

  Michael had hated his father, and I didn’t blame him. But his mother—surely he would want her to know? They deserved to know what had happened to their son, and since it was my fault, I owed it to them to bear the news.

  I reached the Third hovels. Slowing, I had to search for their home since I had only been there once. Before the Council had put an end to my relationship with Meghan, before they told us it was wrong and that we couldn’t continue, Meghan had wanted me to meet her parents.

  They hadn’t been home.

  Things had been tense between us, but it wasn’t until my birthday that our friendship finally shattered. I liked Jade, and I thought it would be less awkward if I was no longer available. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  After a morally questionable make-out session in the woods, Jade and I walked back to Wissen Schule hand in hand. Michael was furious.

  “I told you I didn’t expect anything. Do you even like Jade?”

  “Of course I do. Don’t be stupid. This isn’t about that.”

  But he knew I was lying. He always knew when I was lying.

  The short beeps coming from the vitals cart lengthened into a shriek. I may have shouted something, but I wasn’t really sure. I wasn’t really there—

  And then neither was he.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Doe. There’s nothing more we can do. Please call it.”

  I pulled up alongside the curb. This was it. Climbing out of the car, I walked up the short dirt path to their tiny hut, hoping that at least one of them would still be there. It was too bright outside to tell if there were any lights on inside, but I would just knock.

  Knock and wait.

  I gave him a few days to cool off. That turned into weeks. And then months. And then we weren’t friends anymore. I was too immature to handle it. Too unkind and too unsympathetic. And he had died before I ever had a chance to reconcile with him. He had died, trying to save me, despite the fact that I had been such a toolbag.

  Even though he hadn’t been conscious, whatever made him human was gone. My throat felt dry as I glanced at my watch. “Time of death: 1:13 am.”

  My stomach twisted. What was I even going to say? Hello, I’m Victor Doe, and I’m the Doctor who killed your son? I needed someone to care, though. Needed someone to know. But because he had been a superfluous child, a rebel, and a homosexual, maybe I wouldn’t even find that here. What had I been thinking?

  “Can I help you?”

  The polite but suspicious voice behind me made me jump. I spun around and saw a thin, older version of Meghan coming slowly up the walkway. Her brown hair was streaked with grey, and her face was lined with the premature aging of poverty, but she looked just like her children.

  Meghan and Michael’s mother.

  “Hello,” I said formally, walking quickly toward her with my hand outstretched. I felt the words tumble out of my mouth before I was fully prepared to say them. “My name is Victor Doe and I have news for you about your son.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Apparently she was too surprised to take my hand, so I let it drop back to my side. My palms were damp with sweat, anyway. “May—may I come in?”

  Before she answered, she glanced quickly at the backs of my hands. She seemed shocked. “Of course, Doctor,” she said quickly, dropping her head and hurrying forward again. “I’m very sorry. I just came back for the key to my bike lock. Not that you need to know—I . . . please forgive my rudeness. I’m sorry, please come in.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” I mumbled uncomfortably, following her into the small hut. It was dark inside, and I felt my thoughts running together in incoherent sentences as I tried to steel myself for what was coming next.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have anywhere for you to sit.” She stood before me, wringing her hands and not making eye contact. “I wish you didn’t have to suffer because of our punishment.”

  “No, no, of course not. I don’t need to sit.” My face burned and I found I couldn’t keep my eyes on her face, even if she wasn’t looking at me. “I don’t wish to keep you waiting,” I hurried on, “but I came to tell you that Michael—your son—is dead.”

  The words tumbled out. Her face didn’t change and she didn’t look up; it was as though I had simply announced that the weather was pleasantly mild.

  “He left Liminis some months ago, as I’m sure you guessed.” My chest felt hollow. Whatever closure I had been looking for, I wouldn’t find it here. Not even from his mother. “He was apprehended and—and taken to the Doctors’ headquarters. Suffering from a gunshot wound, he required surgery. He didn’t pull through.”

  Mrs. Amicus shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Well, thank you very much for letting me know,” she said, evidently unsure of what else to say. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here.”

  Her fifth apology. It wasn’t the reaction I had hoped for, but if I was honest with myself, it was the reaction I should have expected.

  “Georgia and David? Pfft, hell no. They won’t care. David is the biggest jackman you’ll ever meet, and if Georgia wanted to, she could have stopped him from beating the roke out of me anytime. Trust me. It’s only Meghan they care about.”

  He had entrusted me with all his darkest secrets. And I had failed him.

  Clearing my throat, I knew it was time to leave. “Anyway, he was my friend. I’m sorry that he’s gone.”

  “He was your friend?”

  I was surprised when she finally looked up. And then horrified when I felt tears prick the inside corners of my eyes. “Yes. We were at school together. I was a Third, too.”

  “Well, thank you for your time, Doctor,” she said, dropping her gaze again, her voice losing its emotion once more. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  I shook my head, though I wasn’t sure she would see it. “No. Thank you.” And I quickly crossed to the door before she could see me cry.

  ---

  I wouldn’t tell Meghan I had met her mother. She didn’t need to know, and it would only make her furious. Besides, I couldn’t dwell on it just now; I had to meet with Gideon.

  He had been moved from the prison after Meghan had gone to visit him, so I moved quickly to his holding room without having to worry about being overheard. He sat tensely by the opposite wall when I let myself into his make-shift cell.

  “Did you talk to them?” he asked the moment he saw me.

  I closed the door before I answered his question. “Yes. Dr. French agreed that a public hanging would make more of a statement than a firing squad.”

  He closed his eyes. In relief? In fear? But he quickly opened them again and said, “So when am I supposed to admit that I flipped Meghan?”

  “Today. I’ll bring you into the interrogation room in just a few minutes. Don’t give up the information too easily, or else they’ll be suspicious.”

  “And you’re sure this will work?”

  Shoving my hands into my pockets, I stared down at the floor. “No, I’m not sure. All I know is that I’m having trouble uncovering the initiation video, and we need a backup plan.”

  He snorted humorlessly. “Great.”

  “I need your help, Gideon.” I forced myself to look at him. “I know it’s not a perfect plan, but I can’t do it without you. You know that the Council is wrongfully enslaving Thirds and that they need to be stopped. You told me you were prepared to die for that.”

  He squirmed a little in his chair, but he kept his eyes on me. “And I am.”

  “Then you do your part and I’ll do mine. Are you ready?”

  With a sigh, he nodded and stood, walking quickly to the door. “Let’s get this over with, I guess
.”

  “Remember,” I took his hands, pulled them behind his back, and cuffed them, “don’t give in too easily. The longer you can keep your head underwater, the better.”

  He didn’t say anything, so I opened the door and pushed him into the hall.

  “This way,” I ordered.

  I led him through the clinic toward an operating-turned-interrogation room, where two of my colleagues were waiting.

  “He’s ready,” I said, and one of the Doctors came to take his arm while the other positioned herself by the large tub of water.

  Both Doctors wore masks over their noses and mouths, but the heavy smell of bleach made my eyes water. The room was very brightly lit, and I glanced readily at the upper corner of the room, where a video camera had been mounted.

  “You can go now, Dr. Doe.”

  With one last glance at Gideon, I nodded and quickly left for the observational room.

  Dr. French was already there.

  “Good afternoon, Victor.”

  “Sir.” I nodded politely at her.

  “Today’s the day, I think. He’s about to break; I can feel it.” She crossed to one of the chairs positioned in front of the old monitor, gesturing for me to take the other. “The sooner we can get this mess over with, the better.”

  “I agree, sir,” I said, sitting down stiffly. The black and white picture of the other room covered the screen, and the two Doctors debriefed Gideon before the interrogation began.

  “Is there anything you want to tell us now?”

  Gideon remained silent.

  “Because we are merciful, we start each session simply enough.” The first Doctor forced Gideon to his knees.

  “And then we’ll move on to injections, if they become necessary. Do you understand?” The second Doctor put her hand on Gideon’s shoulder, but he gave no indication that he had heard anything that either of them had said.

  Dr. French pushed a button on the base of a small microphone and leaned toward it. “You may begin,” she said, her voice echoing throughout both rooms.