“It is my regretful duty to inform you all that Ursa took her life this morning,” he said. There were a few gasps and muffled sobs from the women in the room. “I know this is a very difficult situation for each of you. Ursa was notified this morning that she was to be moved into independent living. She left a note saying that with the loss of her partner and son, she had no reason to continue on. I am sorry to each of you for your loss. The State is closing this greenhouse for the remainder of the day, so you may have some time to deal with your grief.” He turned on his heel and left the room.
A few of the women turned and hugged one another. They were all crying. Freya just sat there and stared at the open space. She didn’t know what to think. Had she really killed herself? Or was she taken? It just didn’t sound like something she would do. But if she had been brought in for questioning or arrested, why not make it public? Why not make an example of her treason?
“You did everything you could, dear.” Cady rested a hand on Freya’s shoulder.
Freya couldn’t comprehend her words. “I was just with her this morning, and she seemed fine,” she blurted.
“I am sure that was before she received the notice, Freya,” Cady replied. “If she would have received it when you were there, I think she just would have waited for you to leave. The outcome would have been the same. You did so much to take care of her, and she loved you. You did your best to save her.”
“I didn’t do anything to save her,” Freya said. Her mind still was not computing. Everyone’s reaction still did not make sense to her.
Cady sat down the chair beside her, keeping a comforting hand on her arm. “Did you never realize the reason why the State let you have access to her apartment?” Cady stroked her arm gently. “You were sent there to take care of her, to make sure she made it through a tough time. You did an amazing job. Unfortunately, the State can’t keep her in this apartment structure with no partner. She must have thought you would be lost to her also, and couldn’t bear another loss.”
Freya finally started to get over the shock, and tears welled up in her eyes. Had she really killed herself? After everything she said to me about being brave, how could she have done that? Did she really kill herself because of the notice, or was it because she knew the State was coming to arrest her?
Freya sat and replayed the events in her mind. She started to wonder whether it was Ursa’s plan all along to involve her in the rebellion, and then take her leave. She had said so many times that Freya couldn’t save her, that she was ready to die, but never imagined she would take her own life.
Cady began to usher everyone out of the greenhouse, saving Freya for last. It was as if she knew that Freya could not yet stand. Cady helped her to the elevator, and went down with her. When Freya returned to her apartment, there was no Lewis waiting there for her. What was waiting was a flashing monitor: a message from the State.
Freya 117,
Please report to Security. You are expected to meet with a psychologist today.
Regards,
The State
Feeling completely numb, Freya headed down to the underground walkway and alerted Security. They lit up a path in lights for her that led her to a medical clinic. She scanned in and then sat down to wait for further instruction. Freya was almost relieved the psychologist wasn’t ready for her. She needed a moment to calm herself and collect her thoughts.
There was nothing that a psychologist could say to help her. How could they help me when I couldn’t even tell them the truth? This entire appointment would be just like most of her time spent since she moved here: an act. This request for therapy must be protocol, or at least requested by Security. If they knew who she really was, why she was really there, she would not be sent to a common psychologist for grief management. She wondered whether there were even psychologists with high enough security clearance to treat spies, members of the Council, or military personnel.
A woman walked down the hallway toward her. Just when Freya didn’t think she could feel any worse, a sinking feeling came over her as the recognition dawned on her. It was Dr. Rheta, the same psychologist she had seen shortly after she had been coupled with Colin.
“Hello, Freya,” she said. “Come with me.”
Freya just stood there, staring at her. How could it be her? When she had been called in to meet with her the first time, it had been in the district of the State house. What was Dr. Rheta doing way out here? Freya felt that having to speak with this vile woman again was a grave injustice. She had caused her so much heartache before, and now she was supposed to comfort her at a time like this? They had sent her to the wrong psychologist if they thought this session would be comforting to her in any way.
“This way,” she said, urging Freya down to a treatment room.
She knew she had no choice but to follow her, but she refused to speak to her. The State could force this session, but they couldn’t force her to speak to this woman.
Dr. Rheta led her into a room much like the one she had originally met her in: a desk, a couple of chairs, very simple and clean. She gestured for Freya to take a seat, and sat in the chair behind the desk.
Freya refused to make eye contact with her. Instead of looking at her feet like she did when she was younger, she looked to the side of the doctor. It was almost as though she felt she needed to let Dr. Rheta know she wasn’t afraid of her—she just hated her.
“Freya, I am going to keep you here for a time. It will give Security the impression we have been talking. When I open that door again, I need you to look incredibly upset.”
Despite her commitment to not look at the doctor, Freya’s head snapped involuntarily toward her. Had I heard her correctly?
“You are not here for counseling. This is your extraction.”
Freya’s jaw fell open as a sudden rush of emotions passed through her. Her first thought was relief that she didn’t in fact have to speak to Dr. Rheta, that she wasn’t here for counseling. That feeling was short-lived, surpassed by a feeling of anxiousness. For so long she had wondered how she would make it through this mission, but now she realized she was actually more afraid of what waited on the other side of the door.
“I am going to walk you into a treatment room. I will tell the nurses that you need rest and to be sedated for a time, that you are overcome with grief,” she explained. “When the shift change happens, I will come for you. There is a room with a trapdoor to the underground tunnels. I will take you to that room and escort you. Do you understand?”
Freya nodded. She wanted so much to keep her cool, to keep her mind and emotions under control. It just didn’t feel possible. Ursa was gone. Colin was gone. Every part of her life she had enjoyed was not possible for her anymore. She was nothing more than an object to the State, and she didn’t know that it could ever truly be different. Tears started to flow down her cheeks. This was an artificial life she had been living, but she had been happy in the greenhouse and with Ursa, and sometimes even with Lewis. Now it was gone, and she wasn’t going to return to this place again.
“That’s good, Freya. Nicely done. You look upset enough for us to leave this room now,” the doctor said, and stood from her desk.
Freya wanted nothing more than to be free of this woman’s company, and so she stood quickly and turned for the door. Dr. Rheta, once in the hallway, placed an arm around Freya. Every part of her wanted to jerk away from her and scream “Don’t touch me,” but she knew that she couldn’t. She started to taste bile; she wasn’t sure she could hold onto the contents of her stomach when this vile woman touched her. The walk into the treatment room—luckily—was short and Freya was free of Dr. Rheta’s touch. She was led over to a bed, where she was urged to lay down and given one of those familiar juice boxes.
Freya was grateful for the numbing effects of the medication. It was such a waste, in a way, but her emotions were running out of control. Her fate hung in a delicate balance; she could not afford to let her emotions betray her. She needed to
get in control again. She needed to be ready. The nurses tucked her into the bed, made sure she was warm enough, and then left her with a glass of water and a pile of handkerchiefs.
The medication took effect quickly and her eyelids were already beginning to feel heavy. She drifted off into a dreamless sleep, which was unfortunately not long enough and disrupted by the last person she wanted to see. It was time, and Dr. Rheta was there to take her away right on cue.
“Freya, it is time for your therapy session.” Doctor Rheta started to gently push Freya into a sitting position. “Come into my office.”
The mental fog from the medication made it difficult for Freya to put up any kind of a fight. As much as even the sound of Dr. Rheta’s voice made her feel like she was crawling out of her skin, she felt a detachment from her emotions due to the drugs. The hatred was still there; it just felt a little more distant.
They walked down the hallway together, and the doctor took her to a different therapy room this time. She scanned in and then took Freya inside. This room had the same desk and chairs as the previous room they had been in, but this one was larger. Freya tried to break free of the doctor once the door had been closed, but she only tightened her grip on her.
“You are not really here for counseling, Freya. Don’t sit down,” Dr. Rheta said. She took her behind the desk and moved a carpet, which revealed a trapdoor. She opened it and assisted Freya down the stairs. Once she made sure Freya had a secure footing and was leaning against a wall, Dr. Rheta went back up the stairs into the therapy room.
Freya stood there for what felt like an eternity, waiting for Dr. Rheta. She slid down the wall and sat, curled up with her head rested on her knees. In spite of her unfamiliar surroundings, sleep started to cloud her mind. She was quite startled when she heard her name, jumping and nearly yelping. Her heart pounded up in her throat, and as her eyes regained focus, she just stared ahead of her, not knowing whether she could trust what she was seeing.
“Freya, are you all right? Should I get a doctor?” asked Chastity.
Freya shook her head as her eyes filled up with tears. “Chastity.” She burst into sobs.
Chastity crouched down beside her, and placed her hand on top of Freya’s. “Well, at least you remember me. I was worried with how you looked at me a moment ago.” She smiled and then reached her arms out to Freya.
They curled up together, hunched on the ground, Freya’s face nestled into Chastity’s shoulder. The medication still in Freya’s system was not helping her to keep in control of her emotions. Chastity didn’t seem to mind, or to judge her; she had seen her much worse, after all. Freya cried until she felt she didn’t have any more tears left, and Chastity let her, comforting her without saying a word.
Chastity finally urged her to get up, gently guiding her down the hallway. She must have understood that Freya was still drugged as she placed Freya’s arm around her shoulders and kept her arm around Freya’s waist, helping to prop her up and keep her on her feet.
They walked together for what felt like an eternity. Freya never asked where they were going, or how long it was until they arrived. Her slow pace made the walk even longer, yet she distinctly remembered taking a train to this area. Were we to walk all the way to the State house? There were doors occasionally; it was almost like a second city existed down here. There were numbers and letters deciphering the different locations, but no labels or words to explain what exactly the purpose of this place was. There were, of course, no scanners either. The space was only known to military personnel and high-ranking Councilmembers.
Freya began to wonder how many of these doors had staircases behind them, and where those staircases would lead to. Her thoughts drifted back to a conversation she had with Colin, when he told her how no one ever saw the military coming, and if they did, it was too late.
Now that she had seen how vast this structure truly was, she was surprised Lewis had not taken the train from the State house. Had he been running the lengths of these halls whenever he was gone? She was certain now that it did continue on all the way to the State house; it was everywhere. There wasn’t any place that this labyrinth couldn’t connect to.
The grasp of this concept struck her. How could anyone possibly think they could ever overtake the State? It was ludicrous. The rebellion obviously didn’t know just how far the military control spanned. How could anyone compete with this kind of a system? It wasn’t possible. The State couldn’t be beat. The only chance the rebellion had, ironically, was their cover story: enlighten the minds of people one at a time to inspire change over time. It was all that could possibly work. It was the only thing the State wouldn’t see as a threat, and the only thing that any group of people could really be capable of.
Chastity slowed her pace and guided Freya toward a door. “We will spend the night here. You need some food and rest.”
“How do you even know where we are?”
“Many, many years of practice.” Chastity laughed. “You will catch on to this someday too.”
Freya marveled at what she saw when Chastity opened the door. It was a large room lined with bunk beds. It looked as if it could sleep at least fifty people.
“It is not private, but we will be warm and there will be food.” Chastity helped Freya over to the closest bunk and guided her to sit down. “I will be right back.” She walked briskly away, and Freya couldn’t help but lay down. The nurse’s shift change was obviously not long after Dr. Rheta had given her that medication—all she wanted to do was to sleep.
“Not yet, my dear,” Chastity said as she returned. Freya was awake enough to still hear her, but had drifted off enough to be incredibly irritated that she wasn’t going to leave her alone. “You are going to eat first, and then change.” Chastity pulled her into a sitting position, and Freya whined and groaned in protest.
Freya had no desire to eat, but she knew Chastity well enough to know that if she didn’t eat voluntarily, she would force-feed her. It was only a small portion of food, and for that Freya was grateful. After she finished eating, Chastity assisted her to the bathroom, where she got changed. Once she had crawled back into bed, Chastity finally let her be, and she quickly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 20
Adistant chatter roused Freya from her sleep. It was not common to hear people talking when she was sleeping, which was why it woke her a little more quickly than perhaps the volume of their speech. She opened her eyes and realized she was not sleeping in her apartment; there was no Lewis in this small bed. As she looked around, the fog of her mind lifted, and she remembered where she was.
This was the underground military structure, and she had not been the only person sleeping in this room. When she had arrived, it had just been herself and Chastity, but now it appeared to have almost half of the bunks full. Freya realized that this was where Lewis had been all of the times that he was not at their apartment. It wasn’t too far for him to get to. He could easily slip out and make it back during the nights that she had spent at Ursa’s.
Freya got up and looked around for Chastity, finding her sleeping in the bunk directly above her. Freya went over to the bathroom and washed up. It was a rather odd place, nothing like any other bathroom she had ever been in. There was a row of shower stalls, toilets, and sinks. This was the only bathroom for everyone who would be staying in this place. Someone was already in one of the showers. The part that was the strangest to her was she didn’t know whether it was a male or female. There obviously weren’t separate bathrooms for each sex.
She found a neatly folded stack of uniforms on a large shelf. It seemed that there were only two choices: military fatigue like what Lewis used to always wear when they trained together, and standard free time wear. Freya figured that because she was a spy, free time wear was the appropriate choice for her.
After pulling the clothing in the right size off the shelf, she headed into a shower stall. There was a small space with a bench and hooks for her to undress before stepp
ing into the shower. Even though Freya couldn’t imagine that there could be water rations in this type of place, she showered quickly. The public nature was a little unnerving to her, not as unnerving as thoughts of what was to come that day, but it was still enough for her to move quickly.
After dressing in the small space, she discarded her sleeping wear and towel into the laundry bin and went to the sink area. There was an assortment of combs and brushes in a basket off to the side of the sinks. She found what she needed to secure her hair into a bun and began to comb out her hair.
Conflicted: Book Two of the State Series Page 24