Cage of Glass (Cage of Glass Trilogy Book 1)
Page 17
I tried to use the rage that welled up inside, but instead, it swallowed me whole and turned to despair.
“You must be hungry. Let’s go eat. I’ve made us some lunch. Chicken salad, your favorite.”
I plastered on a fake smile for her sake. “Sounds great, I’m starving.” The truth was, I wanted to barf, but she didn’t need to know that.
Mom beamed and looped her hand through my arm, leading me into the house toward the kitchen. We were about halfway through our meal when there was a rap at the door. My head snapped up at the sound, as did Mom’s, her face white as a sheet.
I clutched at the napkin in my lap like a lifeline. Adrenaline poured into my veins, wondering who could be on the other side of that door.
I jumped to my feet, pulse pounding in my ears, unable to wait any longer. I had to know. “I’ll answer it Mom, you just finish your salad.”
“No, sweetheart. Let me get it. It may be important.”
With shaking legs, she made for the door and I followed, not daring to leave her alone. Mom looked through the peephole. Her hands shook as she gripped the doorframe and gasped, clutching the wood to remain steady.
“What,” I whispered. “Who is it?”
She whirled around to face me, eyes wide. “It’s an officer.”
Chapter 25
“Ma’am, my name is Officer Five. On behalf of the P8 government I have a message for you pertaining to Mr. Martin Redwood,” the man said in a monotone voice. “Please sign for the registered document.” He outstretched his hand, revealing a small tablet, awaiting a signature. I swore his arm made a faint whirring sound, barely detectable to the human ear. The fellow standing in our doorway was no one I recognized. Only his uniform seemed familiar, similar in design to the others I’d seen, except this outfit was black instead of pure white with some simple silver detailing at the corners of his lapels. Yet, there was something off about this guy. Something I couldn’t place. I stared at him for a moment and then the truth hit me like a wall. I gripped the doorknob and swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.
They hadn’t even bothered to send a real person to do their dirty work.
This was a robot.
I’d heard in passing about the robot delivery systems. But thought little about them until now. Minions, programmed to bring unwanted messages, the kind that the actual officers didn’t want to deliver themselves. Anything not to create a scene. It made me think of the small girl, Ever Hopkins, at the W1 transfer station, who wasn’t even considered important enough to receive assistance from an actual human being for her trip to P8. That was a bad omen unto itself.
I took in the automated machine. He looked very lifelike and almost passed for a human. I understood why at first glance someone might miss he was an android. However, on further inspection, I noticed his amber eyes were glassy, with black swirling rings in the background of his irises, showing he ran by a processor, not a real ticking heart. In other words—not mortal.
Mom signed the small tablet with a shaking finger and the robot produced a registered letter from inside his uniformed pocket and gave it to her. The letter bore an old-fashioned wax seal representing the government crest. Speechless, Mom fingered the bold red indents.
Almost as if on a timer, the mechanical man bowed his head awkwardly and said, “Delivery complete. Officer Five signing off. Have a good day.” He then made a 180-degree turn and started marching off like a broken little toy soldier, returning to the unmarked vehicle idling in our driveway.
Mom, not waiting for him to leave, slammed the door shut, leaning heavily against it. We both knew it would have been pointless to ask a robot questions about Dad. The only information we would probably receive was in that envelope clutched in Mom’s hand. Every bone in my body told me it wasn’t good news.
Mom lifted the envelope and tried to tear at the seal, but her hands were still shaking so badly she failed to get a grip on it.
Without saying a word, I took the letter from her and met her fearful eyes. She nodded silently in assent, tears already sliding down her cheeks.
I ripped it open, the noise slashing like a knife into the silence of the entryway. I cleared my throat, searching for my voice to read the awful words on the page.
We regret to inform you that Mr. Martin Redwood took his own life in barrack headquarters while awaiting questioning. We are sorry for your loss. His body will be housed here at the government main building until suitable funeral arrangements can be made.
Sincerely,
The office of P8
I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from screaming out loud. What a bunch of crap! There was no way Dad took his own life. He would never have done it. But I was certain of one thing.
My father had been murdered in cold blood.
This place was hiding much more than I realized.
My mother let out a small cry, akin to a wounded bird, and slid to the floor, her body wracked with sobs as she buried her head between her knees. I knelt down and rubbed her back, unsure how to comfort her, my own grief palpable.
“It’s not true,” I whispered. “Dad would never do this.”
Mom said nothing, only continued to weep. I held her close, both of us encased in sorrow. Perhaps it was best I spoke no more about it. The last thing I needed was to put Mom in danger, too.
Guilt surged through me so powerfully I suffocated under its weight. Dad wouldn’t be dead if it hadn’t been for me. Somebody died because of me. That’s not how it was supposed to go. I couldn’t find the tears. They were bottled up inside, with no way to get out.
Perhaps I didn’t deserve the release that crying brought. I’d lost the only father I ever knew because of my own stupidity.
After about five minutes, Mom’s sobs quieted. She lifted her head, exposing her tear-stained cheeks. She cupped my face in her hands. “I’m the one who should comfort you, Luna. I’m sorry.”
The love in my mother’s eyes almost became my undoing. I didn’t deserve any compassion. “It’s okay, Mom. We’ll get through this together,” I managed to choke out.
She said nothing else for a moment, only nodded and released me from her grip, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Your father wouldn’t wish us to be sad. He would want us to go on with our lives,” Mom whispered, squeezing my hand.
She never asked why I didn’t cry, and I loved her even more for that. She stood up and brushed herself off. “First things first. We’ll clean up our lunch mess and then set about with some funeral arrangements.” Her voice cracked on the last part and she covered her mouth before rushing off to the kitchen to tidy up. There was no way either of us would finish our meal anyway.
I sat on the floor, listening to the clang of the dishes in the sink, trying to get my bearings. What now? I’d messed everything up and had no idea where to go next. I didn’t dare visit Zander again. I would probably end up with more blood on my hands. But what of my father? What really happened? Did they torture him? Perhaps he finally gave in and told them it had been me that tampered with the phones. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Despite the hollowed out burn that erupted in my stomach, I stood to go help Mom. The one thing I could do was be here for my P8 Mother. She seemed to be the only person who ever loved me.
My heart lurched. Well, apart from my father anyway.
I knew that his death meant the beginning of something new. Something horrifically new. And it terrified me to turn the page and discover what that might be.
Mom and I spent the afternoon catering to well-meaning friends that called or stopped by to offer their condolences, but also to get the updated gossip about what exactly went down. Word spread fast around town as soon as the funeral director was notified. No secrets in this place.
Despite all that had happened, I couldn’t help but see the stark contrast between my two worlds. Here, everyone offered aid in one form or another, while back home you could sell a child, no problem, with few questions asked.
Around six p.m., Mom and I, thinking we’d seen the last of the well-wishers, collapsed on the couch, when suddenly the doorbell rang. We’d eaten nothing all afternoon, neither of us having much of an appetite, but I’d made us both some hot tea.
Mom put down her cup on the coffee table. “I suppose I should see who that is,” she said wearily.
“No, Mom. Let me get it. You relax. I’ll be back.”
“Whoever it is tell them thank you for me, all right? But honestly, I hope it’s not another food offering. Not that I’m not grateful, but we’ve run out of space in the kitchen.”
Mom wasn’t wrong. What started out as a small collection of people bringing meals had escalated to the point where every available surface now held a covered dish. None of the guests stayed, simply gave their condolences and then tried to get the scoop as to what happened, since Mom had been so tight-lipped on the phone.
I gave Mom a short smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a place for it.” I patted her hand and rose from the couch, disappearing into the main hall to answer the door.
The bell rang again.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming. Hold your horses,” I muttered.
I yanked open the door and I gaped in surprise when I discovered who was standing outside.
“Zander.”
“Hey, Luna.”
His eyes appeared gold under the yellow porch light, his silhouette shadowed by the already encroaching darkness. But I saw a determination in his face. He wasn’t here for a social call. Zander wouldn’t have shown up anywhere near me unless it was important. My heart gave a little leap. Did I dare believe he’d made a breakthrough? My excitement dampened almost immediately as I thought of leaving my distraught Mother.
“I’m so sorry to hear of your father’s passing. I wanted to stop by and give you this.”
He reached inside his jacket and procured a pocket-size black book. “Here, take it. It has always brought me comfort in my times of need.”
I took the small worn volume with shaking hands, wondering what he could possibly give me that would improve this situation. I looked at the cover. Embossed into the dark leather, was gold lettering revealing the title of the book. I glanced up at him, surprised.
“It’s a bible.”
Zander gave me a small smile. “Yes, it is. Before you go to bed tonight, look up Proverbs 3:27. I think it will help you.”
I frowned at him, puzzled. Something about how he said it, like it was more than just a bible passage. What did he want to tell me? I searched his face looking for clues, but found nothing. His features remained schooled. His eyes, however, almost pleaded for me to understand.
Not knowing what else to do, I simply nodded and said, “Thank you, it was nice of you to stop by.”
“No problem. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. See you around.”
Without another word, he placed his hands in his jacket pockets and turned to leave. When he reached the end of the driveway, he looked back at me one last time and waved. But his gaze burned a hole into the bible I still clasped in my hands.
He didn’t want me to forget.
I returned the wave, letting him know I understood, and he disappeared down the street.
I shut the door, heart pounding. I squeezed my eyes closed and leaned against the wall for support. I had so many unanswered questions. Things that should not be spoken of here. I wanted to yell at Zander to come back but of course, that was out of the question.
I shifted and remembered the bible, clutched in my hands.
“Luna? Who was that? Is everything all right?” Mom called from the other room. I jumped at the sound of her voice, almost forgetting she was waiting for me to return.
I took a deep breath. “Everything’s fine, Mom. Just a well-wisher with a casserole. I’m going to put it in the fridge. Be back in a minute.”
Another lie. There were so many.
Still, what choice did I have? I needed to read that passage. It might be a clue. And I refused to wait a second longer to find out.
I raced into the kitchen and sat down at the table. I flipped through the volume with ease. Back on W1 Nova, Mama insisted we keep a bible around the house. She thought it made us look classier, though I suspect she herself never looked at it. But it had been the only book we owned, and I’d taught myself to read and write with the tome. I’d recite the passages again and again, repeating the sounds until I understood what they meant. Now, I effortlessly thumbed through the familiar text until I found Proverbs three.
My heart stopped. Tucked into the tiny corner of the binding was a small folded piece of paper.
Zander had a message for me and he’d used the bible to deliver it.
With trembling fingers, I reached for the note and read the contents.
Chapter 26
I studied the words in Zander’s small, neat print.
10 p.m. DRC.
I’d seen that abbreviation before. I wracked my brain, trying to remember where. Then I realized there was only one place that fit those initials.
The Dillinger Research Center.
Why did Zander want me to meet him there? I bit my lip, struggling to make the connection between my father, Zander, and the research center.
Had Zander discovered something? I crunched the small scrap of paper into my palm. I’d been so excited to see Zander at the door. But what if this was a booby trap? I still had no proof I could trust him. I had to face facts. My father mysteriously died after I told Zander about confronting the guard and Agent Mills.
My initial thought had been I shouldn’t have gone. But Dad may have already been dead when I arrived. Maybe this was all a setup to make me believe he’d been alive this entire time. But why would they care about that?
Zander might be the reason my father got taken in the first place.
My mind churned, looking for the trick, the lie, any kind of betrayal. But nothing clicked. Something inside told me Zander was telling the truth. If this was a hoax, he had me fooled, and I didn’t believe I was that gullible. At least the old me wasn’t.
Mom shuffled into the kitchen, her slippers scuffling on the tile floor, jerking me back to the present moment. “Luna? Is everything all right? You’ve been in here a long time.”
I jumped up out of the chair, hastily stuffing the small wad of paper into my pocket.
“Sorry, Mom. I was thinking about making some tea. Would you like some?”
Mom’s brow furrowed, concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? You just made us some. It’s sitting on the coffee table in the living room, remember? In fact, I only came in to tell you it was getting cold.”
I squirmed under her scrutiny. “Yeah,” I stammered. “I uh…went to reheat the water to warm it up.”
Mom put her own half-finished cup on the table and placed her arm around my shoulders, hugging me close. “Come sit down. You don’t have to be strong for me. It’s okay to let go.”
The gentle touch of this woman I barely knew, who’d been more of a mother to me than my Mama had ever been, was my undoing. I collapsed into the vacant chair and sobbed, great gulping tears onto her offered shoulder.
I didn’t just cry over the loss of my P8 father, a good man, but for everything that happened since I left home. I cried for my sister, who I missed so horribly it ached, and I cried for the young girl willing to do anything to save her family. I would never be that girl again. The truth I’d been carrying weighed like a giant brick in my heart.
This much emotion was deemed improper in this strange new universe I found myself in. Nobody here tolerated an unstable human being. It led to trouble. Mom realized it was breaking the rules, but here behind these walls, she let me cry.
When I had no more tears left, she pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my cheeks. “The
re now. It’s good to release it all.”
Her voice hitched as she spoke and she brought her hand to cup my face. She searched my eyes, looking for something. She was paler than usual, and her blonde hair lay mussed and flat against her head in a manner I’d never thought she’d allow. Her fingers shook a little against my cheek, but her tone was deadly serious. “You can’t tell anyone we cried this way, Luna. Promise me. A few tears is fine, but sobbing like this is forbidden. We can break the rules this once, but we must keep this between us girls.”
I frowned. “Why is it so forbidden?” I hiccupped, still trying to control my ragged breathing.
It was Mom’s turn to be confused. “What a silly question. The laws over expression are quite clear. Too much emotion leads to unwise choices. They are required to maintain order.”
I opened my mouth to retort that it seemed barbaric, but one look into my mother’s drawn face and I realized I shouldn’t worry her any further. Black rings shadowed her eyes, swollen from crying.
I patted her hand. “Why don’t we call it a day? It’s only seven, but I’m exhausted. And it looks like you could use some rest.”
She looked torn, still worried about me questioning emotional outbursts. But her exhaustion won out. “Perhaps you’re right.”
She got up slowly, as if it pained her to move and headed toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Luna. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
And somewhere deep inside I realized that I meant it.
Which made what I had to do tonight that much harder.
A few hours later, I lay in bed wide awake, waiting, listening to the tick of the clock in the hall, its smooth rhythm soothing my troubled mind. Finally, at nine-thirty, I got up and tugged on black jeans and a shirt. Dark colors were always best for not being detected at night.