by D. K. Dailey
No! My parents willingly took this risk, but Ems has nothing to do with any of it.
The light clicks on in the closet, and someone knocks on the walls. Most passageways have a hammer spot that open the airtight hidden hideouts. You have to hit the hammer exactly but if you bang enough sometimes you can get one to open.
Saya moves closer and closes her eyes. Her eyelashes flutter each time he knocks. I wrap my arms around her instinctively. The movement calms me.
Walls spring back and forth around us, like the precursor earthquakes I heard about before the worldquake, far too unsteady and unpredictable. I look down. The wall closest to us peels back. He’s found the hammer spot. Oh shucky.
Tossing Saya aside, I prop the front of my foot against the corner of the door and push my weight against it in time to make the officer think the wall doesn’t open but merely shakes.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“What’s what?” Mom replies.
“This wall seems to be movable.”
“It’s not. We would know. We built this house from the ground up.”
He pushes harder.
“Excuse me,” Dad says, “but isn’t there a time limit for probable-cause searches? I believe you’ve exceeded it. Of course, we can check with the Premier. I have his personal number.”
Go, Dad! Nothing like pulling rank when you need to.
“We’re on high alert because of the Premier,” an officer says.
“But we will finish our search now,” another adds.
The passageway wall ceases moving, but I don’t. I push it forward, locking it back into place softly. Then the closet door closes, and the light clicks back off.
My breath returns to normal. Saya clutches me, and I plaster myself back against the opening—just in case.
Footsteps fade away, and the voices dissipate. We wait for an hour, leaning on each other in exhaustion as the air grows thin. Finally, we make our way out into the backyard. The raid! We have to tell Pike about the raid!
I seize the old flutterboard we came on from the bushes and place it in my backpack, exchanging it for my own. Scaling the gate, we take off into the night. What a dream to ride mine again! However, my thoughts have never weighed heavier on my mind. I am Dreg. I was adopted—no, I was abandoned by my own mother.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Saya presses herself tightly against my backpack as we fly. “I don’t think we should go back to the center yet.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t want to chance being followed.”
“If we ever have any inkling that we’re being followed, we’re supposed to go to one of the safe houses.”
“We didn’t the night you guys rescued me.”
“Because we threw them off.”
“But we haven’t seen any officers since we left.”
“Your dad is second to the premier. The officer said they were on high alert. What your dad told us is big news, but I don’t trust him.”
My father is the least of my worries. I’m still thinking of my biological mother and what he said about her. She was on drugs. She was being tested by the government while I was helpless in her womb. How could a mother do that to her child?
“Kade, you okay?” Saya’s voice breaks my thoughts apart. “I said I don’t trust your dad. Do you think we can trust his intel?”
Trust is one thing. Believing is another. “I don’t think he lied about the raid.” I toss my thoughts aside and pull out my playful side—this info is getting too heavy to process. “And, I’m starting to think you’re making up excuses so you can have more alone time with me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her face for a reaction but her expression is shadowed.
I take her suggestion to heart and steer clear of the recreation center. Under her direction, we fly through a portion of the slums, behind the market, that I’ve never seen before.
Circular paper lanterns in rainbow colors are strung throughout the area. Narrow, towering slums stretch endlessly, so only streets upon streets of shacks, stacked high on top of each other, are visible. Slanted roofs of aluminum, tile, and wood shelter apartments, and water-resistant cloths protect portions of the sidewalk. The buildings look even more pitiful after the luxury we left behind in Hill Sector One.
People hang out of wide, two-paned windows while others sit or walk on open-air, tiered skywalks connecting stacks of houses to each other. Lengthy electrical cords loop, stretching in the air and under skywalks. The slums are a veritable concrete jungle.
A flashing electric skyboard shoots rays of light into the leaden sky. I blink up at the advertisement and bring the flutterboard to an abrupt halt. My face looms as big as a cloud, unmistakable in the night sky.
Saya gasps.
“I’m not safe anywhere anymore.” My face freezes above the busy street. According to the newsfeed, I’m alive. And since we steered clear of the city, I couldn’t confirm the “wanted ads” myself. But there I am, high in the sky with the stars, for all to see.
Saya touches my shoulder. “Don’t worry. No one pays attention to the skyboard ‘less it involves adding points to their c-chips. You’re safer here than you are anywhere else.” Her tone is so reassuring that I actually relax.
“Do all Dreg not have c-chips?”
“No, most do. Most of our group, except the ones that have run-ins with the law, have them.” She smiles. “Why, want yours back?”
I rub my wrist without thinking. “Not under these circumstances.”
“I don’t have one, but we use them when we need to blend in.”
My one-man jury is still out on the c-chip now that I know what the government could choose to use it for.
Pushing the flutterboard forward again, I guide us to a less populated spot on the sidewalk and land lightly on the pavement so we can walk for a while.
“Where are we?” I take in the surroundings to get my mind off everything. I gaze up at the apartments. Looking down at everything from the brim of Sector One had once been amazing. But standing here in the center and looking up is incredible.
We walk side by side on the narrow passageway, cruising past little shops and apartments and people hanging out late at night. I notice that no one cares about curfew here either. And they don’t were any gloves like some Golden do who wear melt gloves for protection.
“We’re near most of our safe houses,” Saya says as we walk farther, getting lost on the jam-packed, paved streets. My eyes roam everywhere, from the meat in a shop window to the clothes shops, to the groups gathered on skywalks and near buildings, and then on to the simple wooden toys in another shop window.
“You’ve never been here?”
“No, not to this slum.”
She turns around, and I pause mid-step so I don’t run into her.
“This is the heart of the slums.” Her tone of voice is effortlessly professional as she walks backward, facing me like a tour guide with outstretched hands.
I smile. She’s managed to ease my tension. As she walks and talks, people part, giving her a wide berth and suspicious stares. I’m not positive making a spectacle of ourselves is a good idea right now, but I play along.
She waves her arm toward one side of the street. “As you can see, on the bottom level lie the shops.” Then she points upward. “Those are the skywalks. Back that way, ten levels of housing extend miles up and to the outer edge of the city.” She finishes by pointing behind us at the disappearing street. I look past her like a real tourist. The view is like a painting created in perspective, its depth and distance shown through shadows and light.
I laugh, clapping my hands in appreciation of her tour.
She smiles, and I step in line with her backward steps, getting close enough to touch her. People in the street no longer pay attention to us. I never would have thought I’d blend in with Dregs.
“Excuse me, ma’am, when was all this built? And by which architect? The design of this structure looks very familiar.” I gi
ve her a wide smile.
“Built by the sweat and tears of Dreg,” she replies seriously before turning around to walk side by side with me.
Total mood kill. Now I understand how difficult it has been for Dregs to flourish and survive in such harsh living conditions. But still they rise no matter what they’ve been through.
We near a crowd gathered up ahead. “Isn’t that Zee and Rigo over there?”
Saya’s expression changes to one of joy, and she runs toward them. I pick up my pace to catch up. She slams into Zee, and they hug for a few seconds.
“What are you guys doing out here?” she asks.
“Wanted to get out. You know how it gets—all stuffy. We wanted to do something different.” Rigo stares at her. He stares a little too hard, his dark brown eyes clenching a twinkle of some sort. Why didn’t she hug Rigo?
“So, where’d you go?” Saya asks.
“Some party.” Zee shrugs.
“A party?” I chime in, laughing. “You have parties?”
Rigo gives me his usual death stare, and I shut up.
“When are you guys going back to the rec center?” Saya looks at them both.
“Later tonight. We’re gonna grab eats first. Why? What’s going on with you?” Rigo looks from Saya to me. His eyes meet mine, openly displaying hatred.
Hatred for being Golden.
Hatred for being next to Saya.
Right now, more important matters hover over our heads than us not getting along. Like warning them about the attack.
“Can you tell Pike that we have to move from the center?” I ask Zee.
He runs a hand over his buzzed hair, and his eyebrows rise. “And why would we tell Pike that?” Both boys’ eyes narrow at me.
“We went to visit my dad, and he told me they plan to raid a rec center sometime soon. Do you know of any other ones around here housing Dregs?”
Zee acts likes he’s thinking but says slowly, “I guess we don’t.”
“Why can’t you tell Pike yourself?” Rigo interjects. “And why should we believe you?”
I shrug. Why should they believe me? They still think of me as Golden.
“He could be telling the truth,” Zee counters. “Do you know when it’s gonna happen, Kade?”
“He said it was going to happen at a rec center in the flatlands soon.”
“Do you know anything else about it?”
“Look, Zee, Pike sent me there to get more info. And that’s the most pressing thing he told us.”
Zee redirects his questioning gaze. “What do you say, Saya?”
She doesn’t look at me. What does she really think? Was she too convinced about the raid? “I believed his father. He seemed sincere about that.”
“We will have to leave the center then.” Zee frowns. “I was getting used to that place. Much warmer and better than under the bridge.”
Rigo glares. “If we move for nothing I’ll be pissed.”
“When aren’t you pissed?” Shucky! It slipped out, and I sort of want to take it back since now’s not the time to rile him up.
“Yeah, get over it, Rigo. If the intel is good, we could save lives,” Saya says.
“They’re right.” Zee chuckles.
“Also, we don’t want to lead anyone there right now if the intel isn’t true.” Saya glances around. “I can’t shake the feeling we’re being followed.”
“We hid for an hour. I don’t think we were followed.”
Saya narrows her eyes at me. But I know that no one followed us, or they’d have apprehended us already.
“We’ll go straight away.” Rigo nods and then focuses on Saya. “You gonna be okay?” He eyes me, and we all know the end of his unfinished sentence…alone with him?
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” I grin. Yeah, doink, she’s with me.
Stepping forward, he leans into my face, but Saya puts her palm on his chest to stop him. Envy shoots through my body when she touches him.
Rigo’s jaw clenches while he gives me a death stare again. The skin around his eyes tightens, and his eyes fill with tension. His shoulders, too. He makes a grunting noise but doesn’t push past Saya.
Neither do I. I’m positive I look as cuckoo as he does, but my hair blows in the wind and I flare my nostrils. We should seriously duke it out. The tension has been building since we met.
“Avoid building five. It’s in quarantine. Apparently, there’s a pox scare and a few people got sick,” Zee breaks through. Back to reality.
“Anyone die?” A worried look overtakes Saya’s face, and she bites her lower lip.
“A few, I think. Cops are heavy over there, trying to keep it from spreading.” Zee looks at Rigo next. “Come on. We gotta go.” Zee walks away first, throwing a farewell hand in the air. “Be careful.”
After Rigo breaks eye contact with me, Saya and I watch them say goodbye to the group they were originally with and then walk farther away into the distance.
“Have you ever been away before? Away from the whole group?” I turn to her.
Her eyes don’t leave the boys until they disappear into the night. “A few times, when we went on night missions. And when I was with Archer.”
My jaw flinches at her ex’s name. “Do you trust Pike then?”
“I trusted him more before he—” she stops short. “But I believe in the cause, which is more important than how I feel about Pike.”
I trusted him more before…The affair with her mom? I don’t tackle that. Instead, I ask one of the other questions burning inside. “In the skate park, that first time, you said I was different up close. What did you mean?”
“I noticed that you and Pike had similar eyes.” She stares. “Really bright, deep blue. Jarring.”
“Do you know something about it?”
“Oh you mean, because of what your dad said.” She shakes her head. “All I know is what you know.”
Pike couldn’t be my father, and it doesn’t matter who my biological parents are anyway. All I can depend on is my mom and Ems. And I’m hoping I can depend on Saya, too.
I smile. “Maybe we can get some decent food. Isa told me that the first week after scavenging we eat regular food and then switch to preserved food. No preserved food out here, eh?” My smile widens.
“Our food has to last for an indeterminate amount of time.” We start walking again. “But the safe houses are stocked with micro meals.”
I smile. “How do your safe houses get ‘stocked’ with food anyhow?”
“We have a manager that cleans up and shops for each one on a monthly basis. We wire points to an anonymous c-chip or we get donors to do it.”
“Some operation you’ve got.” I whistle, impressed by the effort and planning. “Are there other Dreg groups like Pike’s, ones who pay this much attention to detail?”
“There’s another big one besides us and a bunch of small ones.”
“How lush!”
“I guess.” She shrugs. “The big one calls themselves the Revisionists.”
I pull at my brow. “Um, what’s your group called then?”
“We don’t have a name.”
“Oh.” Time to move on to a different subject. “Please tell me there’s a bed and a shower at this safe house.”
“You’re in luck.” Smiling, she picks up the pace.
This safe house has become my momentary bit of happiness.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I follow Saya through a series of skywalks, in and out of buildings, and up escalators until we reach the eighth level. Inside one building, soft blue corridors and floors reflect moonlight filtering through glass panes in the corridor’s ceiling. These skylights are essential since the electric lights don’t operate all the time, and so far haven’t kicked on.
We pass several apartment doors until Saya finds the one she’s looking for. She presses a code into the keypad, and the door beeps and then clicks open.
“How do you know the code?”
“All the codes are the same until we have to change them.”
Opening the door, she then commands, “Lights on.”
“What’s the code?” I enter behind her.
“SAFE but in numbers, 7-2-3-3.”
I file that away and look around. The safe house is a studio painted deep red. A set of twin beds takes up most of the small space. Twins? Really? With only one bed, she might have let me sleep beside her. But knowing Saya, she would’ve told me to sleep on the floor. Maybe it’s better this way.
The only other furniture in the room is a dresser next to the beds. Nearby is a single-pane patio door that slides out onto a balcony. A kitchenette is tucked away in a corner with an L-shape countertop, cabinets, sink, fridge, and garbage compactor. A toilet and shower have also been squeezed into a bathroom the size of a tiny broom cupboard.
It must be two in the morning, but there’s music, dogs barking, people talking, and an overabundance of indistinct sounds layered on top of each other like bean dip.
Saya walks to the fridge and pulls out a glass carafe of lemonade, checking the digital expiration date before tapping the cap open. “Want some?”
“Yes.” I sit on the counter near her.
Snatching two glasses from the cabinet, she runs water over them in the sink before pouring the lemonade.
“There are changes of clothes here.”
“That sounds great.” I’d rather wear the ones my mom packed, but I’d stand out too much among Dregs. I’ve been yearning for “newer” clothes. Saya hands me a glass. I chug it down, place the empty on the counter, and jump off, nearly in one motion. “I’m going to freshen up.” I head to the bathroom with my backpack.
“Good, cuz you—”
“Stink, I know.” I smile.
“The clothes are under the sink.”
“Thanks.” I close the bathroom door and open my backpack, anxious to see what my mom got for me. Inside are three changes of clothes, toiletries, and four digitals of Mom, Ems, and me. Thankfully, she left out my father.