“Why would they kill you?” he says. “You’re our age.”
A pang of anger flashes through me, and followed by exhaustion.
“The Directorate doesn’t kill us,” I snap. “They just have the technology to tell us when our quality of life is going to decline, so we can live our lives accordingly and go peacefully and painlessly.”
Connor and Kinlee exchange a look.
“But, um…” He glances back to me. “If that’s true, why aren’t you in some kind of pain?”
“I am, actually.” I point to my ankle.
“Yeah but, the Directorate couldn’t predict a hurt ankle from genomics.”
“What do you mean?” As soon as I say it, my stomach twists, and I realize I’m not sure I want to understand him.
“I’m just saying,” he stretches his arms out. “If the Directorate knows exactly when you’re going to decline, and that time was this morning, and their thing didn’t work… how are you not suffering? With their amazing-genius science-predicting, wouldn't this awful thing be setting in about now? But here you are. So my question is, if the Directorate is as good at this as they say they are, how are you not ‘declining’ yet?”
It's a question I hadn’t gotten to yet, and it’s a terrible one. A chill runs over me, and the blood drains from my face.
“Shit, Connor,” Kinlee mutters.
“What do you – but – that's not even close to what they do. It's not – ”
The smartass smirk on his face, like he knows everything there is to know, has me so furious I can't think straight. This boy talks too fast, says too much. We don’t talk to each other like this in the Quads. We’re polite.
“Why are you so mean? Has anyone solved that great mystery of science yet?”
Kinlee snorts. “I like her.”
Connor’s eyes go wide, and then the light behind them falters. Something warm and satisfied pulses through me.
He turns to Kinlee and they exchange another look. Like they’re parents deciding whether to tell a kid there’s no Santa Claus. Kinlee shakes her head. Only slightly, but I still see it.
“Um, yeah.” Kinlee pushes off the log and stands up. “I’ve got some things I’m supposed to do before I'm done for the day. You okay here, Evie? My mom’s gonna be back for you any minute.”
She's leaving me? With this boy? My stomach drops, like when I stop paying attention and miss a step on the stairs. But I don’t want her to think I’m any more of a wuss than I’ve already proven myself to be.
“Sure, I’m fine.”
“Okay, good. Connor has to go too, don’t you?” she says pointedly.
Connor gets up. “I’ve got those cows to see to, I guess.”
My stomach lurches again – I wasn’t exactly enjoying his company, but I don't want to be alone out here, either.
“Bye, then.” I try not to care.
The fire crackles, and somewhere out there, a choir of crickets chirp. It’s not so bad, actually, except that now that I’m alone, in the quiet, all the thoughts I didn’t have time for today rush in at once. I’m supposed to be departed. I am departed, as far as anyone I love is concerned. Mom and Dad and Gracelyn are probably eating dinner about now. I can almost see it, as if I’m hovering over them at the table: the strange quietness looming over them all as they eat, the empty clinking of the silverware against the plates.
Or maybe they’re fine. It’s not like they didn’t prepare for it. And they still have their good daughter, the one with the perfect recall, the even temper, and a hundred and forty years of promising future. The one they’ve poured everything into. At the thought, my stomach aches and I feel hollow and fragile, like I could implode from the weight of this day and disappear.
I try to stop my thoughts by studying my surroundings. It is not at all the wasteland I imagined the outside world would look like. Trees rustle in the brisk breeze overhead. Birds chirp. There’s an occasional voice from somewhere through the trees. Because everywhere – everywhere – there’s tons of trees. I didn’t think there was anything green left out here at all.
There’s a few cabins strewn about, and their placement seems as random as the trees. How can they live like this, so disordered?
A tinge of panic itches under my skin. My breaths grow harder, drawing the awful humidity into my lungs, which reminds me of all the toxins the air is surely full of, no matter what Raina says. I try to stop, but that’s impossible of course, and it’s too late for that anyway.
In the Quads, everything was always right, always orderly. Trees were carefully placed in systemic lines in the grid, evenly spaced along clean, even walkways. People didn’t run or jump or leap around like crazy people. They walked in a calm, orderly fashion. It protected us – made sure we had safe, pleasant lives until our departure dates. That we didn’t do stupid things and sprain our ankles and cause ourselves unnecessary pain.
“Oh honey. It’s okay to cry. It’s a lot to take in.” I was so deep in thought I didn’t notice Raina returning. I jump, and a bolt of pain shoots from my ankle. Sue is trailing not far behind her.
Cry? Who’s crying? I ball my hands into fists and press them against my eyes.
Then I look up at Raina, hoping my eyes aren’t red. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are,” she says with solemn reassurance.
Sue joins us and sets down her supplies. “Let's get you patched up.”
Chapter Thirteen
Evie
A girl in my class – Harper – tripped once, a few years ago. She fell all the way down the stairs, and by the time she hit the bottom, her arm was twisted completely out of place.
I wasn't there, but I heard all about it at school the next day (along with everyone else) from Cynthia, who was there, and said she had never seen anything so horrible in all her life.
Emergency Care rushed to the house in one of their special white vans, the lights on top flashing. They injected some Instaheal into her arm and set it, and by school the next morning, she was loopy from the painkillers they put her on, but her arm was as good as new.
Ever since, Harper’s gone extra slow on the stairs.
But that was in the Quads, where the Directorate looked out for us. Out here, it's me, Raina and Sue, and a cuff of ice. Sue removes it to study my ankle, then begins wrapping it in a bandage.
“We’re going to put a splint on it and get you some crutches. You’ll be fine again in a week or two,” Raina says.
“Splint? Crutches?” It’s like she’s making words up. “A full week?”
“Or two.” Sue approaches from behind and sets a pair of long wooden poles next to me, the top part wider and wrapped in cushioning. “Here. So you can get around without using your leg while it heals.”
“You’re not going to heal it now?”
That whiny tone is creeping back into my voice. This time, I’m so tired and hurting and confused, I don't care anymore.
“Sorry,” Raina says. “We don’t have the Directorate's budget. Instaheal is for life-threatening injuries only. You’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
I half-sigh, half-pout.
“Here,” Sue says, demonstrating how to use the crutches. Then she thrusts them at me. “Got it?”
“Sure.” I pull on the handles and stand up.
“That’s the idea.” For the first time, Sue smiles a little. “Okay, well, you’re good to go.”
Something about her carelessness makes me feel a little better. Like it’s not such a big deal.
“All right then,” Raina says. She nods to me, and I get up to hobble after her. The crutches may help me avoid some pain, but they’re definitely not graceful.
“Where are we going now?” I ask. As my ankle thaws out from the ice, it begins to throb again.
“We’re getting you settled into your new place,” Raina says. “You’ll be with me and Kinlee.”
She leads me through the scattered trees. Cabins are scattered through them, some close, some f
arther out, all wooden and small and plain.
“How do you keep them straight?” They all look the same to me, and there’s no order to them at all.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “Wait and see, you’ll know your way around here before you know it. Give it a few weeks.”
Settle in? A few weeks?
“Oh no, no, no, no, no…” My chest clenches. “I can’t live here.”
“Evie, now listen – ” She reaches out, but I shrug away.
“No! You can’t make me stay out here and… and… live in the woods. With all the environmental contamination.”
I do my best to storm off, but the crutches make it difficult. She catches up.
“A place like this must be scary after living in a Quad your whole life. But it really will be okay. You’re going to adjust.”
I huff and pant, trying to go faster, as fast as it takes to get away from her.
“I will never adjust to this,” I whine. I miss home so badly I feel hollow.
“There’s nowhere else for you to go, honey, at least for now. I’m sorry.”
Raina pauses as if waiting for me to speak, but emotions swell within me that are too powerful for words. I shut my eyes tight to keep my panic from spilling out in uncontrollable tears.
She continues. “You know you can’t go back, right? They’ll kill you. But it’s not just that. If that were all, we’d let you make your own choice and that would be that. But the Directorate is trying to keep all this a secret, and they’ll protect it at any cost. Your parents. Your siblings. Your friends. Whoever you were to go to. They’ll kill them too. It’s the only way they could protect their secret.”
I stagger to a halt, the crutches digging into the dirt. Would the Directorate really do that? I don’t want to believe it, but after this particular day, it’s not so hard to imagine. What’s going to happen to Charlie, Ronni, and Viv in those mental health meetings tomorrow?
“And,” Raina goes on, “They’d know we’re out here. They wouldn’t stop searching until they found us. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t even take that long, once they were looking for us.”
Anger wells up in my chest in hot bursting bubbles. “Obviously I can’t go back. I never said – I wasn’t going to…”
But I am drowning in my overwhelm and I am out of words. I scream. A loud, angry, awful scream that reaches past the trees and into the sky. A horrid sound that would never be tolerated in the Quads. It’s been building inside me all day, and relief replaces the pressure as I let it out.
It’s funny. My parents, they drove me nuts. So protective. So careful. Model citizens. I hated them sometimes, for how they fawned over Gracelyn and left me behind. But I understood it. All things aside, all the anger and loneliness, I still miss them now.
Raina puts a hand on my back. “Here,” she says. “The cabin is this way.”
We walk the rest of the way in grudging silence.
She opens the door to the cabin and stands aside to let me in. Inside is dark and musty. My nose crinkles.
“Yeah, it’s not the best for ventilation,” Raina says. “You’ll get used to it, though. It’s not so bad.”
Get used to it? I hope not. But then, what else I can I do?
I push myself into the room and look around. Two sets of bunk beds are shoved against the back wall, and a third against the far side wall. The closer wall, next to the door, holds a couple of dressers.
I reach out and touch one – it’s wood. Not the eco-plastic wooden pattern of the Directorate, but real wood. And from the looks of it, they’re pretty old.
“I know, it’s not what you’re used to. But it’s a safe place to sleep, for as long as you choose to stay here.” Raina smiles weakly.
“For as long as I choose?” My heart does a flip. “But you said I can't go back?”
“There’s a whole world out there, Evie. We’re under a transit freeze right now for security, but once that’s lifted, if you want to, you’re free to go and explore it.”
Right now, the world’s already far too big for me. In contrast, the tight space of the cabin feels almost comforting.
“You can take that bunk,” Raina says, pointing to the one on the far wall. “Go ahead and settle in. Rest up. You’ve got maybe an hour before dinner. We’ll come and get you when it’s time to eat.”
“Okay,” I reply. “And Raina? Thanks.”
I hope she can’t tell how grudging I am about it. I try to force a smile but I think it ends up just pulling the corners of my mouth outward.
All the same, she smiles back at me. “It’s going to be okay, Evie. Give it some time.”
And then she turns and leaves the cabin, closing the door behind her.
I hobble across the room on my crutches and plop onto the bed, letting my crutches drop to the ground.
I gingerly pull up my wrapped foot and spread out on the bed. My ankle throbs, a pain that starts in my heel and stretches up my shin. My head rushes with all the strange things about this day that I have yet to take in. The stiffness of the bed presses into my back, pushing pressure against my spine.
But somehow in spite of it all, I crash into quiet darkness.
Chapter Fourteen
Gracelyn
Today I remember from the start that Evie is gone. As I lie in bed, I listen through the wall, but there is nothing to hear. Father is right – what I heard yesterday morning must have been branches on the window. To think anything else would be ridiculous. To think anything else would be treasonous.
Evie is gone, and that is the way it should be. It is better for her this way. We all know what happened to people before departures – slow, painful, ugly deaths. I would never wish that on Evie.
The alarm on my digipad is still buzzing. A spritz of citrus settles into the air to waken my senses, but when I lift my arm out to tap the snooze, a deep tiredness permeates through my muscles. I groan. I wish I could lie here all day – pull the covers over my head and stare at the inside of the blank white comforter. The thought only feels good for a moment before it is chased with guilt. That is not the thought of a good Directorate citizen.
We weren’t supposed to be close, I scold myself.
They all knew that being close with Evie would only lead to pain for me. That it would feel like this.
But it is hard, when it is your sister. Especially when your sister is Evie. She was different. Goofy, and messy – everything we’re taught not to be. And angry. She deserved more than her short life.
Seventeen years. It is no wonder she was angry. I would be too.
I am angry. I wasn’t before, but this morning, buried beneath the layers of exhaustion, there it is. My sister is gone. But I had my day to let Evie go. Like Father said. Now it is time to move on and get back to normal. Whatever normal is, now.
This system always seemed so tidy from the outside. From my bed this morning, it feels impossible.
I force myself up.
The bathroom mirror shows me dull freckled skin, with dark circles under bloodshot brown eyes. I push back my dirty blonde hair and try smiling, to see if I can hide it. It helps, but not enough. Then I get in the shower.
Yesterday at this time, Evie’s body was still in her bed. How does it happen? Does life leave you right at midnight like a switch? Does it fade away slowly like a dying battery?
I shake my head and push it under the shower flow, staring at the blank white tiles at my feet.
“Pressure up,” I say.
“Water pressure increasing,” the shower confirms.
I let the sound of the intensifying water flow drown out my thoughts.
It is unlike me to let my mind wander to these dark places. Mother would say I am making things harder for myself. Think of something happy, dear.
At breakfast, Mother wears the same manic smile as yesterday and clings to her mug. Father studies me as I push the food around my plate.
“All of that from yesterday – it’s behind us now, right? Like we tal
ked about,” he prompts.
I force a bite down my throat. “Right.”
It is selfish to be sad now. We all knew it was coming, and we had plenty of time to prepare. Letting Evie go is the best way to honor her. Even if she did deserve so much more time.
“Aren’t you excited, Gracelyn?” Mother’s voice cuts through my thoughts, shrill with forced enthusiasm. “Oh, I remember my first day of career training.”
Actually, career training started yesterday. I've looked forward to this transition for as long as I can remember. But since the start date was set last quarter, that excitement became tangled up with my dread of Evie's departure. Today, it doesn’t feel like it matters at all. What good is a career without Evie to share my accomplishments and triumphs with? I don’t know if I can get through the stress of LQM’s competitive program without her here to talk me down when I need it.
I push my face into what feels like a smile and hope it doesn’t look as forced as Mother’s. If people start to worry about me, the Directorate will step in. They will assign pills to improve my mood, or even to forget. I don’t ever want to forget.
Working for LQM is a prestigious posting. After all, this is the department that keeps us living painlessly and departing on schedule. Like Evie. I shake the thought out of my head and refocus. If I can get past this and do as well as everyone expects of me, maybe someday I’ll be Green Level like Father.
I’ll have a lot of catching up to do, but I barely feel up to finishing my breakfast. How am I going to go there, to that department, and not think of Evie?
It’s going to be a long day.
Outside, it is a perfect morning like every other. The smell of fresh, damp grass remains from the nightly misting, and overhead the Quad dome is completing its transition to white daylight.
The shuttlebus pulls up to the small park at the center of my Quad, and I step on.
Departures Page 7