We drive in silence as we follow the young peace officer to the museum. Once we park, he rushes to my side of the car and opens the door for me. Ernestine grins as he smiles and walks with us to the entrance of the museum. I am losing my patience. "Thank you, officer, for helping us find our way. I have hours of boring research to do in here, so I better get to it. Please look out for yourself as you keep our city safe."
The blonde peace officer smiles at me. "I will. Safety is my motto. Say, do you want to grab a bite to eat later tonight?"
You've got to be kidding me. "I'm afraid I can't. My boyfriend and I have plans tonight, but thank you for the offer."
The peace officer's smile melts off his face. "You ladies have a nice day," he says as he trudges back to his car.
I call out to his retreating back loudly. "We will. Thank you."
Ernestine chuckles as we enter the museum. "Maybe you should make your disguises a little bit uglier."
"It's not funny."
Ernestine pats my back. "You're right. You actually saved us back there."
We pay our admission and pretend to be interested in the History of Herrington displays on the first floor. I learn that mayors of Herrington serve for eight years and can be reelected once. I would normally be thrilled to absorb this information in order to understand my new world better, but all I can think about is Avra in a body bag not far from here. Ernestine uses the receptionist's phone to call my mother. I'm sure Ernestine's creative code words are hilarious to overhear but I can't hear her from here.
I peek out every window I come across until I get a good view of the parking lot. "He's gone, Ernestine. Let's go."
She looks at her watch. "It's been 45 minutes. He might still be in the area. We'll wait 15 more minutes, then we'll go."
I groan and force myself to read a big display that explains how the government works in this country. It's actually helpful to learn that each city in The United Cities has one senator to represent it on a national level. The office lasts for 10 years, and a person can only be reelected once. Every citizen in the country gets to vote on all senators, not just the one from their city. Presidential candidates must be at least 38 years old, and if elected, will hold the office until death or when they reach the age of 80 which requires them to retire to a Complex for the Elderly.
An elderly, male museum worker approaches us. "I don't know if you noticed when you paid for your admission, but the museum closes an hour earlier than usual on Fridays. Make sure you use your time wisely."
Ernestine smiles at the man. "Thank you for the reminder. We were just about to leave anyway."
My heart skips a beat as the man walks away. I whisper excitedly, "Can we go see Avra now?"
Ernestine smirks at me and shakes her head. "Actually, if we wait until closing time-Just kidding! Let's go."
I think my body is the only thing that is keeping my insides from exploding with anticipation. There's a little bit of guilt thrown in there, too. I wish I had kept my best friend from being captured, but she is out of the complex now. I just hope she is strong enough to wake up from the effects of the sheol.
As soon as Ernestine parks the black car in the garage, I fly into the house. I am greeted by a somber-looking Garth in the basement great room.
"Where is she, Garth?"
My boyfriend places his hands on my arms. "We put her in the bunker on a bottom bunk, but she hasn't woken up yet. Your dad just got here, and he set her up on a thing called an IV to give her a boost of nutrition and fluids. He also gave her a shot of adrenaline to give her enough energy to wake up."
I don't care. I just want to see her. Why is he standing in my way? "Let me see her," I say as I try to pass him.
Garth doesn't let me get by him. He takes me by the hand and says, "She looks bad, Elira. Prepare yourself."
Chapter 9
I waste no time getting to the door of the hidden room. My mother and Scott are sitting on folding chairs next to the closest bunk bed. My best friend is lying in the bed looking completely lifeless. Her face is thin and sunken in. She has lost so much hair, her head is showing through it in an unhealthy way. Her arms and legs are skeletally thin and bruised. I push past my mom and sink to the floor by the bed.
I pick Avra's frail hand up and cringe when I feel no heat or life in it. I feel tears dripping off my cheeks before I even know they've formed. I lean close to her ear and say, "Avra, please wake up. I've missed you. I will never let anyone take you away again. Just please wake up."
My father clears his throat behind me. "It's 5:00. She should be at least twitching or breathing deeper by now. This isn't a good sign, honey."
I turn around and yell, "No! No, I won't accept that. Maybe Maxine gave the sheol to her later than noon."
Mother squeezes my shoulder. "Maxine called me on her lunch break. She said she took the troublemaker in her dorm to a private cell at 11:30 and volunteered to help give Avra her injection of medicine soon after that. She said she slipped the sheol into Avra's mouth at 11:55 on the dot."
I wipe my nose on the back of my hand. "Was she conscious when Maxine gave it to her?"
"No, darling, she wasn't conscious."
Father squeezes in next to us to check Avra's pulse. He frowns. "I can feel her pulse, but it's extremely faint. She looks exactly the same as when I declared her dead in the complex. That was at 2:00 exactly. Dr. James didn't even check her himself. He said he has been expecting her to go for several days now.
I feel my sadness transform into anger. "What can we do? I can't just sit here and watch her die, Dad."
"I have given her everything I know to help her come out of it. I will do some research. If I find anything else that might help, we'll try it."
Mother sighs as she lovingly pats my back. "I had a cat when I was a girl that I never gave much attention. It developed a disease, a cancer maybe, that started eating away the cat's nose. My parents took it to the veterinarian, but the vet said that there was nothing we could do. He could put the cat down or we could let the cat die at home. We decided to bring it home."
I grimace. "Mom, I don't want to hear this right now. I don't want Avra to die."
"Just listen. We brought the cat home and I decided that he would spend the last days of his life like a king. I made him a bed out of fluffy pillows, I fed him fresh tuna fish and cream from a dish, I brushed his fur and kept him clean and fluffy, I even put the same ointment that I put on my own cuts and scrapes on his nose. Guess what happened."
I frown at my mother. "He died comfortably."
Mother smiles at me. "No. His nose grew back. He lived."
I feel my eyebrows trying to touch each other. "How can that be?"
"Our health is affected by the way we're treated. When the cat didn't think anyone cared about his suffering, he was ready to die of his ailment. As soon as he knew I cared and wanted him to be comfortable, he had something to live for."
"So what's your point?"
"We may have given her all the medical attention we can give her, but we can still show her that we care for her and love her."
I lift the lifeless hand that I'm holding. "She doesn't even know I'm here."
"You don't know that. She might be listening to every word we say. Tell her how much you care about her. Go get your lotion. Rub it into her hands and feet. Paint her nails. She needs to know that we care and that she has something worth living for."
Chapter 10
"Elira, you've been in this dark room with Avra all night and all day. Why don't you come with me to the mall?" my mother pleads from beside the bunkbed.
My voice is hoarse and strained. "I don't remember what that is."
"It's a big building with lots of little stores inside. You can walk from store to store and get everything you need in one place."
I close my eyes and lay my head next to my friend on her pillow. "I don't want to shop. I want Avra to wake up."
"I know you do, darling. She was in such bad shape, she may need time for the fluids and nutrients we're giving her to work. Let's get away for a few hours. Brock will be at the mall today answering questions and taking pictures with voters. We could stop by and see him."
I look at Avra and see no change in her face or her ultra-shallow breathing. Maybe I should go outside and stretch my legs. "Can Garth come with me?"
"No. He and Rocky are going to help Rocky's dad paint the outside of his house today."
"Oh yeah."
"We haven't had a mother-daughter day since your birthday. Scott will stay with Avra, and we can get our nails done again."
My mother's begging face is hard to resist. "Okay, fine. Let's go."
I put on my Edith Westergard disguise and follow my mom to the garage. "Are you ready to try driving, Elira?"
I open the passenger side of my purple car and climb in. "No. According to Rocky, I may never be ready."
Mother climbs into the driver's side. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure you're closer than you know."
We sit in silence as we drive. I wish I had something happy or exciting to talk about, but I don't. "How many more days till the election?"
"What's today? Saturday, so three more days."
"Good. It's time to take that death factory down."
"Yes, it is." Mother gives my arm a squeeze. "Let's talk about something more upbeat. "Greggory is coming after he gets off work tonight and is staying the weekend with us. Won't that be fun?"
The corners of my mouth turn up a little bit. "Yeah, that will be fun."
"When I told him that we had Avra back, he insisted on coming to see her."
I give her half a smile. "I'm glad he's coming. He's always a good distraction."
When we get to the mall, Mother insists we get manicures first. "A new manicure always cheers me up. That's exactly what you need today, darling."
Our manicurists are chatty and sweet, and my pretty red nails do cheer me up a little bit. We start walking down the hall in the mall when we see a big group of people in the center court. I try to avoid eye contact with the people in the crowd and slip by them when I hear someone call out, "Edith! Edith, it's me, Damon Bellvue."
I turn around as Damon nabs my arm. "Hi, Damon. What are you doing here?"
"I'm helping Brock with his question-and-answer session. Didn't you know that? I figured that was why you're here."
"Oh, yeah. I did know that. I just didn't think this crowd was his crowd. I'm actually here to shop with my m-aunt and get my mind off-things."
Damon's eyes see the pain in my own. "What things? Can I help?"
Mother clears her throat beside me. "Oh, Damon, I would like to introduce you to my-aunt, Florence Hamble."
"Any relative of Edith or Brock's is a friend of mine. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Hamble."
"It's nice to meet you, too, Damon. I recognize your name. You're helping Brock with his Herrington campaign, correct?"
"Yes, I am. Edith and Greggory were a great help to me at the city fair on Wednesday."
"I'm so glad. It looks like the two of you have some catching up to do. If it's okay, Edith, I'll leave you here to help Damon and Brock for a few minutes while I pick up a surprise for you."
"Oh, I don't know if..."
"That's a great idea, Mrs. Hamble. Edith is exactly the kind of help I need today."
"Great, I'll be back in an hour. Have fun, Edith." Mother cuts through the crowd of people to give Brock a hug before she leaves.
I glare at my mother as she walks away from me. How did this happen? "Uh, what do you need help with, Damon?"
"Well, we're running low on buttons and pamphlets. If you could refill these tables with the things from the boxes below them, that would be a great start, and then if a hard-nose comes around, I might sic you on them. You know how to get anyone to vote for Brock."
"Okay," I say unenthusiastically as I pull out a box of pamphlets. Damon watches me as he hands a new stack of pamphlets to each of his volunteers. Once I have a big pile of 'Vote for Hamble' buttons on each of the three tables, I look longingly at my brother, Brock. He has at least 15 people standing in a line to talk to him. What a shame. I could use a brotherly hug right about now.
As I'm daydreaming, I hear Damon call my name. "Edith, would you be willing to tell Mr. Athill here what Brock Hamble's stance on The Complex Law is?"
I shake myself out of my stupor. "Sure, I'd love t-" As I lift my head I find myself staring into the unsmiling face of the complex chief. Images of his broad shoulders and skinny waist marching through my dorm each year, scowling at my friends and me fill my mind. I feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I force my gaping jaw shut as I meet his gaze.
"W-what would you like to know, Mr. Athill?"
The man's black hair that is usually stuck to his head appears to be unsticking on the left side. My eyes keep drifting to the horizontal tweaker as he speaks. "I am the most important employee at the Herrington Complex of Undesirables. I will not vote for anyone who might even possibly be against the system that I hold so dear."
Damon looks at me wearily as I feel one of the beads of sweat slide in front of my right ear. I clear my throat. "If you have read this pamphlet that outlines Brock Hamble's stance on all current laws, you will see that he is neutral on the Complex Law."
"Yes, I have read that, but I have reasons to doubt his-neutrality."
I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can't mess this up. There is so much at stake. "Mr. Athill, I assure you that Brock Hamble wants to represent the people. The people voted for the Complex Law, so he upholds that law as the mayor of Adanlay, and he will continue to uphold that law as a senator for The United Cities."
The man lifts his nose in disdain. "I've heard rumors that there are people trying to bring down the Complex Law; will he support that kind of rebellion?"
A second bead of sweat slides down the other side of my face. "Brock Hamble is a representative of the people of the United Cities. If the majority of the people demand that the Complex Law be repealed, he will listen to them. I think you are worried about nothing though, sir. Look around you. Do you see any complex haters or rebellions? No. Of course not." I hand the complex chief a pamphlet and a button. "Reread the pamphlet and set your heart at ease. Please vote for Brock Hamble on Tuesday, and have a nice day."
The complex chief glares at me and throws the button on the table with a clank. "I still don't believe he's neutral. His sister is on the loose from the complex. I will not be voting for him, and until his sister is captured-I will not have a nice day." He turns his back on me and storms away. I brace myself against the table as my strength gives out. That was terrifying.
I feel someone put their hand on my back. Damon's voice says, "Are you okay, Edith? You're shaking."
"I-I'm fine."
"I'm pretty sure that Mr. Athill is the Herrington Chief for the Complex of Undesirables. I've never met him in person until now. What a jerk."
"Yeah, he is."
Damon looks at me curiously. "Have you met him before?"
I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my fingertips. "Yes, I have met him before, unfortunately."
"That's surprising. You're from Trenton, aren't you?"
Oh shoot. "Yeah, I am. I, uh, met him at a party with my uncle once."
Someone turns me around and wraps their arms around me. It's Brock. He whispers in my ear, "I've been watching him linger around my line for the last half an hour. Are you okay?"
"I whisper back, "That was the scariest thing I've experienced since..."
My brother stops me from saying more. "He's gone now. You did well. I've got
to get back." Damon's eyes narrow as he watches our hug.
"Thanks, Brock," I say as he lets go of me.
Damon claps Brock on the back as he leaves and says, "You've got this in the bag, my friend; you're at 60% of the popular vote and still going up."
Brock smiles. "Yeah, things are looking great. Thanks for all your hard work, Damon. I've got to get back to the line."
"No problem." Damon's attention turns back to me, and he hands me a bottle of water. "Sit down and take a drink. You look like you're going to pass out."
I sit down gladly. "I'm sorry. I'm having a rough day. I might not be the best of help for you right now."
He sits down next to me. "Your cousin was sure worried about you. What's wrong?"
How much can I say? He seems like someone I can trust, but I thought I could trust Jefrey too. "I-my best friend is very sick. I'm worried about her."
Damon puts his hand on my knee. "What kind of sickness? Hasn't she seen a doctor?"
I shift to the side so Damon's hand slips off my knee. "She's under the care of a doctor. She went through a traumatic experience and she's unconscious. I'm afraid she won't wake up."
"What kind of traumatic experience? A car wreck or something?"
I don't meet his eyes. "Yeah, something like that. I don't really want to talk about it. I just want her to wake up and be okay."
Damon looks at me intently. "You are such a mysterious person. I find you so intriguing." Damon pats my knee briefly. "I hope your friend is okay."
"Thank you."
"Edith, are you ready to go?" my mother asks as she approaches us with multiple bags slung over her shoulders.
"Yes. I'm ready." I stand up and take some of the bags off my mom's arms.
Damon follows me around the table. "Can I carry those to your car for you?"
"Yes."
"No," I say at the same time, and more loudly than my mom.
Mother scrunches her eyebrows at me. "Uh."
I don't let her speak. "We've got it. Thank you anyway, Damon. Get more people to vote for Brock. See you later."
The Complex Leader Page 5