“I am interested in you as a friend—”
“Stop, okay? You’re making it worse. I want to go back now.”
I look at the old-fashioned watch on my wrist. “We can’t for another hour.”
“Rot it all!” She swims away. I think she’s crying.
“Sharrow—”
“Leave me alone.” She goes as far away from me as she can get.
Seeing her hurting tweaks something in me. I have to make it right.
I swim over. She turns her back to me, treading water. I float there, the silence aching with things unsaid.
Then finally I take a resp and start talking.
“Since you’re stuck here for a while, I have an idea. How about I tell you about my life, so you can get to know me, the me I am now. Then maybe you’ll decide to tell me about you. And if you want, you can tell me about us. That way, we’ll both cog samewise, even if our memories don’t match.”
I wait a few beats for her to object. She doesn’t, so I continue.
“Okay, I’m a gen-fab, given to a woman who agreed to have me, not chose to. Turns out, that’s more of a distinction than you’d guess….”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Maisie, where are you?” I shout as I head down the dark passage.
I can’t see two inches ahead. I’m going to have to risk my flashlight.
I activate it and stare ahead at a dead end.
That can’t be right. No way Bel would be punking me now—there’s too much at stake. There’s got to be a hidden ladder or door.
I shine the light across the cement walls, coming to a stop on metal rungs embedded to form a ladder. I grab hold and start climbing, heart slamming against my ribs.
“Maisie!” I shout upward. I quiet my breathing and listen, but there’s no response.
Near the ceiling, there’s an opening in the wall. I climb up and shine my light into a short tunnel with a door on the other end. That should lead to the slide. I hope.
I heave myself into the tunnel. It’s too low to stand, so I crawl. When I reach the end, I turn off the flashlight and push open the door. Yes! It’s the platform at the top of the slide.
But no Maisie.
I see Bel and Liddy below. “Which way?”
“Try back the way we came,” Bel says.
I cross to the access tunnel. Yellow bulbs hanging from the ceiling glow with fake cheer. Maisie is nowhere in sight. “I’ll be back as soon as I find her,” I shout as I dash down the tunnel.
At the end is the main hallway, lit with normal office-y overhead panels. There are closed doors on either side, none of which we opened on our way through. Maisie wouldn’t have opened one, would she? Surely she’d have gone back the way we came, maybe tried to find the lobby and the kitten.
I hurry past the closed doors—there are like ten of them—and with each one, my doubt increases. She could be behind any one of these doors. She could be anywhere. There’s too much to search. I have to narrow it down. But how am I supposed to know what a lost, scared kid would do?
Wait. I do know.
I got lost at the zoo once when I was little. It was free admission day for San Francisco residents, and my mom was so excited to take me. While I was looking at the lions, a group came in, and somehow I got separated from my mom. I thought she left me, and I was terrified. I don’t know why, but I didn’t look for her. For some reason, I hid.
Maybe Maisie is hiding.
Now I’m looking with a different eye. Where would she hide? Where’s the first place she could hide?
I retrace my steps and open the very first door. It’s a long-abandoned office. Desk and empty bookshelves heavy with dust and cobwebs. No sign anyone’s been in here in the last decade. But I know what I would have done as a scared kid.
I circle behind the desk where the chair has been pulled away just enough for a small child to shimmy into the footwell. I crouch down and there she is, her eyes wide, lower lip quivering. I sit down cross-legged, not fully blocking her exit, but enough that I can grab her if she bolts.
“Hi,” I say, my voice soft, not a hint of anger.
I’m silent, waiting to see if she’ll engage. She makes eye contact but doesn’t say anything.
“You were scared, huh?” I venture.
She nods.
“That’s okay,” I say. “I remember one time I was scared at the zoo when I was about your age.”
“The zoo?”
“Yeah, there were all kinds of animals, but I loved the lions the most. I could watch them forever. I was watching them when a whole bunch of people all came to see the lions. Suddenly I couldn’t find my mom. And I was really scared.”
“What did you do?” she asks, eyes full of curiosity now.
“I did what you did. I ran and hid. That’s how I was able to find you. Because I remembered what it was like to be scared and alone.”
She nods. “My mom went away. Like your mom.”
I haven’t heard a thing about the girls’ mom. Only the dad. “Oh?” I’m afraid to say the wrong thing.
“I miss her. Especially at night. My dad says I have to sleep by myself. But I miss my mom and sometimes I get scared and sneak into my sister’s room. She doesn’t tell Dad.”
“It’s good to have a sister, huh?” And I think maybe it actually could be, even if that sister is Bel. “Do you want to go see your sister now?”
Maisie nods.
“We have to go back to the slide, but don’t worry—we won’t go down it,” I tell her. “After we tell Bel and Liddy I found you, we’ll leave the way we came in. Does that sound okay?”
Maisie nods again.
“Good. When we see your sister, and my sister Bel, we all need to have a talk about keeping this our secret. We’re not going to tell your dad you ran away, okay?”
“Are you sure?” Maisie asks. “We’re not supposed to keep secrets.”
“Sometimes it’s okay to keep a secret,” I say. “Like when you sneak into your sister’s room at night.”
She nods. I hope she means it.
Saying goodbye at Dietrich’s office, Maisie throws her arms around me.
“Remember to keep our secret,” I whisper.
She pulls back, all serious. “I promise.”
Dietrich leaves with the girls, and Bel and I go back to her chambers. We don’t say it, but I know we’re wondering the same thing—what are the odds the girls won’t blab?
I give it eighty-twenty in favor of keeping the secret, which isn’t great. But honestly, how big of a deal is it if they tell? It’s not like it gives away anything about time travel or the Resistance.
We make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and it feels weirdly normal being in the kitchen together.
Bel grabs two cans of diet soda and hands me one. “Perks of the public sector.”
“Cool.” I hate diet soda, but it’s worth it for the bonding points.
We deposit our PB&Js and drinks on the coffee table and plop down in the armchairs. I notice we’re sitting the exact same way—legs stretched, feet splayed, arms hanging off the sides—I let out a guffaw. She laughs, too, though more daintily.
I think our mutual secret has served to bond us more than anything I’ve orchestrated. I wouldn’t exactly say I like her, but I have less hate, which I wasn’t expecting. It feels like a betrayal of my dad, but it’s worth it if my plan works.
I lick the ooze of raspberry jam from the edge of my sandwich while I steel myself for the next round of Sharrow-bashing. I hate it so much.
Should I go for her hair this time? Her job?
The door opens and Dietrich enters, saving me.
“Hello, girls.”
“Hi,” we reply in chorus.
“Great job this morning,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling all proud. But I stop myself. This isn’t my real life. I shouldn’t care if Dietrich approves of me. All that matters is saving my real family.
“The colonel wanted
me to bring you to the city this afternoon, but I declined.”
“The city?” I ask.
“New Francisco,” Dietrich says. “I have meetings, then a formal dinner-dance in honor of the president.”
I’m curious about New Francisco, but not enough to get dressed up and make chitchat with a bunch of Nazis. Plus, I’d bet good money the dancing won’t be anything like at the club.
“What are you going to wear?” Bel asks.
“I can’t decide. I’d love your opinion,” Dietrich says, motioning Bel to come with her.
Bel hops up and follows. I take a bite of my sandwich and slump back in the chair.
“Allie, come on,” Bel says from the hallway.
“What?”
“Help us pick her dress.”
Color me surprised.
I’ve never seen Dietrich’s bedroom. I don’t know what I expected, but it isn’t this. There’s pink everywhere. Dusty pink wallpaper littered with puffy roses. A pink-dressed vintage doll posed in a pink wingback chair. A four-poster bed overflowing with pink floral bedding. I didn’t peg Dietrich for a girly-girl.
“Model for us,” Bel says, climbing onto the bed and nestling into the mountain of pillows.
Dietrich disappears around a corner.
Bel looks at me and pats the bed.
This is an opportunity to suck up to Bel without having to bash Sharrow. I put my con-face on, slip off the blue boots, and climb up.
Dietrich comes out in a gold dress, form-fitting from neck to feet. It glitters as she walks, reflecting the light like it’s made from a million tiny mirrors.
“Wow,” I say, without meaning to.
“Hmm,” Dietrich says. “I wonder if it’s too too.”
I lean toward Bel and whisper, “I have no idea what that means.”
“It definitely says ‘look at me,’” Bel tells her mom, at the same time instructing me. “Show us what else you have.”
Dietrich disappears again, and I give Bel another opening to “teach” me.
“What are we looking for?”
“Well,” Bel says, sitting up straighter. “The event calls for elegant and sophisticated, but not flashy. She should go for beautiful in a reserved way, rather than sexy-hot.”
“Gotcha. Then that gold dress was definitely ‘too too.’”
Dietrich comes out in a black tank dress that goes to her knees. It follows her curves without being skin-tight.
“What do you think, Allie?” Dietrich asks.
I didn’t expect to be up so soon. Here goes. “It’s pretty, but…boring?”
“Totally boring,” Bel says, agreeing with me.
“I think so, too.” Dietrich disappears again.
“That dress was a classic cut and style,” Bel instructs. “But more appropriate for a cocktail hour. It lacked the presence for a dinner-dance with the president.”
“Are you sorry you’re not going?”
“Not really. Dressing up’s phee, but the event will be dulldrudge.”
“Think we could find something phee to do while she’s gone?” I say, conspiratorially.
Bel groans. “There’s nothing to do in here.”
I lean closer. “I didn’t mean here.”
A sly smile curves Bel’s lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Dietrich emerges again, this time in a light gray, almost silver, dress. It’s sleeveless, floor length, and body-hugging, with cuff-like folds over the hips that make her waist look small.
Bel looks at me. I’m up again. I search my brain for the right vocabulary.
“Elegant,” I say. “The bodice is modest but not uptight. The cut accentuates your figure. It’s subtly sexy. It makes an impact. The right kind of impact.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Bel says.
Nailed it.
“I agree, this is the one,” Dietrich says. “Thanks, girls. I’ll get this packed up for tonight.”
“When are you leaving?” Bel asks.
“As soon as I change back into my work clothes. I won’t be home until late, but there’s plenty of food here, and you girls can watch vids and get to bed early.”
“Rot,” Bel says. “I’ve got the craves for a veggie burger from the Donut Shoppe.”
“The lockdown is still in effect,” Dietrich says.
“Does it have to be?” Bel asks. “We really wanted to spend time with Sharrow. Please, Mom?”
Dietrich’s expression changed immediately at the mention of Sharrow’s name. “Well, the ASPs have all left, so there’s no real reason not to lift it.”
I gotta give it to Bel. She knows how to work her.
“Thanks, Mom.” Bel hops off the bed.
“But be back before midnight,” Dietrich says, heading out of the room again.
Bel and I share a grin.
“I mean it—don’t be late,” Dietrich calls. “We have lots to address in the morning.”
Fear zings through my nervous system. On tomorrow’s agenda: deciding if I get recycled.
Chapter Thirty-Six
At the Donut Shoppe, Bel and I are sharing nachos loaded with jalapeños and “real dairy soured cream” when I see Calix and almost inhale a chip.
“What?” Bel says.
“It’s Calix.” I point to him over by the machines with an older man I’ve never seen before.
Bel turns to look. “Yeah, so?”
“He was recycled.” He looks normal, for him—same anatomy book face tattoo, same wavy hair. And very much alive.
“Looks like he’s getting the newbie tour.” Bel flicks a jalapeño off a chip before putting it in her mouth.
I watch as the older man shows Calix the machines. Calix is nodding, smiling, like nothing’s wrong.
“I don’t get it,” I say. “He’s a doctor. It makes no sense to erase all that knowledge and have him start over.”
“Correct, that would be stupid,” Bel says, shielding her full mouth with her hand. “They only erase memories of being here. Nothing earlier.”
“They can do that?”
“Eh. More or less.” Bel crunches for a moment while we watch Calix fill a bottle with liquid nutrition.
This is my fault. I feel so guilty. And sorry. So sorry. I wish I could—why can’t I?
I leap to my feet and rush over to Calix. He glances up, looking puzzled.
“I know you don’t remember me.” My words come out in a rush. “But I want to say—”
“Step back,” the older man commands in a threatening tone.
“But I—”
The man comes toward me menacingly, and I back up, bumping into someone—Bel.
“She’s leaving,” Bel says.
“This is a violation—”
“She’s new. She didn’t know.” Bel turns to me and says through her teeth, “Back to the table, now.”
Calix looks troubled. “Wait. Don’t I know you?”
“Allie, go,” Bel says, looking like she’s about to pop a vein in her forehead.
I start back to the table, watching Calix over my shoulder. His bottle is on the ground, leaking brown goo on the floor. The other man is gripping his arm—what about consent?—forcing him to the door.
“Wait,” Calix says. “I think I…I need to…”
“Allie,” Bel says, getting my attention. “Sit. Don’t look.”
“No,” I hear Calix protest. “I need to find out—”
Then they’re gone.
“I knew you didn’t watch all the safety protos,” Bel blurts. “Didn’t you see that red arm band he was wearing? That means he’s newly recycled and you’re not supposed to interact with him.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t that obv? You made him try to remember. If he does remember, they have to give him the drugs a second time. That rarely goes well.”
“Oh.” I didn’t think I could feel guiltier. I was wrong.
I look at the doorway, remembering him there with a look on his face that will haunt me
forever.
I put my head down on the table, trying to pull myself together. I’ve got to regroup. I have to talk to Bel about the plan.
“Oh,” Bel says. “It’s her.”
I lift my head and see Sharrow heading for us.
“How phee,” Bel says sarcastically.
It’s game on. I’m not ready, but I don’t have time to be picky.
Sharrow arrives at our table with a smile. “Hey,” she says, all upbeat and friendly.
“Yeah?” Bel says. The subtext is Why are you bothering me?
I want to say something to soften Bel’s response, but I can’t—Sharrow has to be the shared enemy.
“What’s up?” I say without inflection or eye contact, like I don’t care at all.
“Uh, just wondering how your tour went,” Sharrow says, clearly deflated.
“Perfect.” Bel flips her hair and looks around the room, like everyone there is more important than Sharrow.
“Yeah, it went great,” I say, looking at my nails. I toss a glance at her. “Anything else?” My self-hatred roils in my stomach, threatening to erupt and destroy the world.
“I…I guess not.” She seems so hurt.
“Good. We have things we need to talk about. Privately,” Bel says. “Right, Allie?”
“Yeah, privately.” I’m a monster.
I try to convey with my eyes that I’m sorry, but I can tell Sharrow doesn’t get the message. I need to get her alone so I can explain.
She hangs her head and turns away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bel watching me. It’s a test to see if I’ll kick Sharrow when she’s down. I don’t think I can.
But this is a test I have to pass.
“Sorry, Sharrow, but we’re making delicate decisions here, and your man-hands are too clumsy,” I say, loud enough that everyone can hear.
Bel and I laugh, and there’s tittering from several people around us.
Sharrow dashes for the exit.
First Calix, now this. I want to melt into the floor and disappear forever.
“Can you believe her?” Bel says, taking a chip from the nacho plate, looking at it, then putting it back.
“Right?” I make myself say.
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