“Ghent, what’s wrong?”
“The Temples! They’re all that’s left of an old religious order. They believe that men are evil, should be tortured, and killed. They were amongst those who planned the palisade and drove the men away in the first place. What did you tell them?”
He releases my arms and rakes his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick out in messy spikes. I clasp my hands together to steady them. “Ghent, they’re my friends. They know nothing about you. I promise.”
He paces across the room and leans into the wall, pressing his head into his forearms. Sweat stains his collar, and his hair is still a mess.
“Ghent, please.”
Finally, he looks in my eyes as if he can read the truth there. He lifts a hand to my face, stopping short of making contact. I think he’s trying to say that he trusts me. Not quite sure how to broach the subject again, I take a deep breath before speaking. “Hear me out. You don’t have to agree, and I won’t mention it again, but please listen at least once.”
He squints as if he’s in pain.
“Gamma Temple’s a friend,” I start.
He moves past me and slumps on the crate. I join him, maintaining a little distance, at least as much as possible on the small box.
“I know it’s a long shot,” I say, “but she may be able to help find out something about your mothers. Her mother is a Med-Tech, and Gamma may be able to access her datapad.”
“It’s too dangerous.” Ghent’s face is ashen. The Temples scare him. But he can’t be right about them. Ma Temple helped my mother hide the truth about me and my … father. For all this time. Maybe if I tell him that part of my story, he’ll believe me, he’ll let them help us.
“There’s something I haven’t told you, about what the Temples did for me,” I say. “I think it will make you understand, that you can trust them. They kept a secret for me and my mother. An important secret. They protected us.”
“What kind of secret?”
It’s surprisingly hard to say it out loud. It’s going to be the first time I’ve ever admitted it to anyone. “I’m not a true daughter of the palisade,” I say. “I come from somewhere else.” I stumble to find the right words.
“I don’t understand. I looked you up in the data stream. Your mother is Sigma Wye. You were born in the Nest.”
“Yes, that’s true, but this isn’t where I was made. My mother never had the Procedure.”
Ghent’s eyes widen but he doesn’t interrupt.
“My mother was curious about what’s outside the walls.”
Ghent places a hand on my forearm. Somehow it steadies me. When I don’t continue he asks, “She went outside?”
I dip my head.
“So, you were created the natural way, the way men and women…” his voice trails off.
“Yes. In some ways, I have less right to be here than you.”
“You have every right to be here.” He lets go of my arm and grabs my shoulders, turning me to face him. “So your mother knows what’s outside the palisade? Can we ask her?”
“No, she’s at a retreat. You can’t afford to wait. I don’t know how long it will be before she comes back. Anyway, even if she knows anything, it probably won’t help. If she knew anything helpful, she would have reported it to the Elders long ago. We’d all know about it by now.”
Ghent digs his nails into the crate. “Okay, but I don’t understand what any of this has to do with the Temples.”
“They helped my mother hide the truth, falsified the data stream, gave her contact lenses to hide my eyes.”
“So that explains it.”
He had noticed them before.
“But what about your true father?” he asks. “Where is he? Who is he?”
My eyes sting as I think about what happened to my mother outside the palisade all those years ago. Helpless and alone.
“I see,” Ghent says. He pats me awkwardly on my good knee before pulling away. “I’m so sorry. I can see now why you were so scared of me.”
“No, that’s not it. When I met you, I didn’t even know about him. I only found out after the Commander got to me.”
Ghent drops his head and speaks so softly it’s hard to make out his words. “I understand, Meg. I truly do. And I’m so, so sorry for what happened to you. But the fact that the Temples helped you, helped your mother, that doesn’t necessarily prove that I can trust them.”
I want to contradict him, but I know what he means. Helping women is one thing. Ma Temple was protecting my mother from what she saw as the monsters outside. That doesn’t mean she’d help protect a boy inside the walls, even if he hadn’t done anything wrong. I decide to approach the problem from another angle.
“Gamma and I have been friends forever,” I say. “We don’t have to involve her mother. Gamma can hack the datapad herself. She’s done it before. And even if you’re right about the Temples, remember I’m in this too now. I don’t want the Protectors to get to me any more than you do. We’re in this together.”
He leans forward and cradles his face in his hands. Then he presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “You know where I live. I can’t risk it. I can’t let you leave here without me. If they get to you, even if you don’t mean to tell them anything, they might get it out of you.”
I know he’s right, but the situation is impossible.
“You can’t come with me to see Gamma,” I say.
Ghent runs trembling fingers through his hair. Suddenly, he darts across to the bed, reaching for something under the mattress. I leap to my feet and watch him fossick until he pulls out a small device. He brushes it off with the hem of his shirt. It’s made of metal, not much bigger than the penny he showed me earlier, but thicker and slightly rounded on one side.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Transmitter. My mothers sometimes use it to get messages to me.”
Warnings, I realize, if someone is coming to their quarters. My heart cracks at the thought of how he’s had to live his whole life.
“Why didn’t Delta take it with her to the Clinic?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Ghent flips the object over in his palm. “I guess she didn’t think of it when Epsie collapsed. She was too worried about her or she may have been worried someone would see it and ask questions.” He reaches under the mattress and pulls out a second object, similar in size and shape. He holds both of them out to me.
“This one’s the transmitter,” he explains, extending the one in his left hand. “The other is the receiver. It’s one way. You could talk to your friend. And I’d get the message through this. We wouldn’t have to stay together. But it has limited range. I’d still have to come with you part of the way.” Ghent is carefully examining the equipment, causing little bursts of static to punctuate his words.
“How close do you need to be for me to transmit?” I ask. “Perhaps I could sneak it into the Temples’ quarters from here? We must be nearby, right?”
“We’re on the same floor as the Temples, only a few doors down. But we can’t risk it. There’s too many Med-Techs around and we know at least some of them are working with the Protectors.” I cringe as I think about Rho Zee. Most of the Med-Techs live on this floor. I hunker down on the crate, feeling suddenly exposed even though I know we’re relatively safe here. “And if you’re wrong about your friend. If she sounds the alarm…” Ghent doesn’t have to finish the sentence. There’s at least one Protector stationed in this very building, in my quarters, and she has a hotline to Commander Theta.
“I’ll have to catch Gamma when she’s not at home. Somewhere there won’t be Med-Techs or Protectors.” Suddenly it hits me. “The factory. I might be able to catch Gamma alone there, without anyone seeing me. She usually sneaks up to the storage room at some point during the day. And I know a back way in.”
“Will the transmitter work from, say, a hundred feet away?” I estimate the distance from the storage room to the hiding spot I have in mind.
“There’s a loading bay out back with a shed that’s hardly ever used. You could hide there. It’s never locked so it shouldn’t be difficult for us to get in.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.” I wish I could sound more confident, but this is the only plan I have.
“Alright then.” Ghent’s tone is all business now. “When’s Gamma’s next shift?”
“She should be back on the line tomorrow morning.” Daylight. That could be tricky. It’ll be harder to keep Ghent out of sight. “If you’re going to be hiding in the shed by the time her shift starts, we’ll have to plant you there tonight. What time is it?”
Ghent lifts an object from the top of the bookcase. An antique timepiece. It’s very elegant, with a worn leather band housing a gold circle covered with a shiny layer of glass. I’ve seen pictures of them before. They only tell the time and nothing else. They can’t be used to track people.
“It’s almost midnight,” Ghent says. “You must be exhausted.”
I’ve been running on adrenaline for so long I haven’t noticed how tired I am until he mentions it. I stifle a yawn.
“Why don’t you get some sleep? We have time” He indicates his mattress. “I’ll keep watch. We’ll be able to make it to the factory before dawn.”
Despite my exhaustion, I’m uncomfortable taking his bed. I’m not sure if I can sleep with him hovering nearby.
“Maybe we should take turns getting some rest?” I suggest. “You sleep first, and I’ll keep watch.”
He laughs out loud. I suppose he’s not too convinced about the idea of me guarding him. My cheeks flush.
“Oh, alright.” I give in. “You’re sure it’ll be safe?”
“I’ll be right here.” He pats the bedcovers. I sigh and move toward him as he straightens the sheets. When he moves, I slip my feet out of his mother’s shoes and climb under the covers. The bed is warm and soft, and the blankets smell of Ghent, oak and lavender. The soap from the bathroom I now realize. I nestle my head into the pillows as he scoops up an extra blanket from the foot of the bed and drapes it over me. The last thing he says before taking up his vigil is, “Sleep well, Meg.”
Surprisingly, I do.
Chapter 14
“Wake up! Are you alright?”
I force my eyes open. Ghent is leaning over me, shaking my shoulders. I bolt up, dizzy and disoriented, before remembering where I am. In his quarters. On his bed. “What happened?”
“You were crying out. I tried to wake you, and you pushed me away.” I scrub at my cheeks and realize they’re wet. A nightmare. I wonder how loud I was screaming. I sniffle as he fetches a bottle of water and a nutri-bar from his supply pack. He passes them over and sits beside me. The lavender scent is stronger now. He must have cleaned up while I slept. His hair is damp and slicked back, and he’s wearing different clothes, loose dark trousers and a black short-sleeved shirt. The dark color emphasizes the paleness of his skin.
I bite into the nutri-bar gratefully even though it’s soggy and a little stale. “What time is it?” I manage around a mouthful.
“Almost five thirty.”
I snap to attention. “We have to go, and you haven’t slept.”
“You needed it more.” He says, looking away. He clears his throat. “We’re going to have to get moving soon. Are you up to it?”
He let me sleep later than he should have. The sun rises early in summer and we’ll have to be in place outside the factory before the morning shift. I feel bad that he hasn’t had any rest. At least he had a chance to clean up. If he makes it outside the palisade, he may never see soap again. He may die in the wasteland. My nightmare floods back to me – Ghent’s body decomposing in the desert, buzzards picking at strips of his rotting flesh.
“What are you thinking?” He hesitates before touching my shoulder. I glance over at him willing my dream out of my mind. His solid frame fills so much of the tiny space. I can’t bear to think of it reduced to a mound of sun-bleached bones.
“Nothing.”
Making it to the factory before dawn turns out to be pretty easy. We’re traveling light: only the clothes we’re wearing and Ghent’s pack of supplies. My hair is swept back in a tight braid to keep it out of the way. Using the ducts to get out of the housing block isn’t so hard, partly because it’s a downhill climb and partly because I’m less claustrophobic this time. It’s also easier to maneuver in the clothes Ghent gave me from his mothers’ closet, a simple dark shift over durable cotton trousers. My injuries bother me less today. Although my arm stings a little, the swelling on my knee has gone down almost to nothing.
Ghent sets a punishing pace, but somehow I manage to keep up. We make good time to the shed. We’ll have to wait here for the night crew to clock off before I can take up my position inside the factory. Luck is on our side. The shed is not only unlocked, but its back corner houses some warped shelving where Ghent can conceal himself. There’s even an old tarpaulin he can hide under. We attempt a few trial runs with the transmitter. Each time, I move a little farther away to check the range. I try a final run up the factory’s outside staircase, all the way to the emergency exit. The transmitter relays my test message without a hitch.
When I’m safely back in the shed, the buzzer sounds, followed by movement at the front of the factory. The night crew is heading home. In a few moments, the day shift will arrive. I have to get to the upper walkway before there are enough people to notice me sneaking in. I can hide in the supply room and wait for Gamma to put in an appearance. Ghent gives me the signal to get moving, but before I do, he reaches out to stop me. He tugs at the collar of my shirt, double-checking the placement of the transmitter.
His voice is uneven. “Be careful.” He reaches for a stray strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. Only yesterday I would have thought he was trying to hurt me with those powerful hands. Now I see a real person: pale skin, dark hair and dark eyes, tall with a muscular frame, and a lightly asymmetrical face, one lip quirking a little higher than the other when he smiles, a brow that furrows into a curious “v” when he’s trying to work something out. He’s a person like me. In many ways, he’s less of an anomaly than I am. At least his mothers planned for him to be here.
“Meg.” He nudges me to get my attention. “Promise you’ll be careful.”
“I will. If I get into any trouble, I’ll give you the signal.” I hope it doesn’t come to that.
We stand face to face in the tiny shed. He towers over me, feet planted wide, arms at his sides. His lips purse and unpurse as if he wants to say something. But I don’t give him the chance. I turn for the door. The first beams of the morning sun illuminate my way as I climb up the outside staircase to the emergency exit. I try to turn the handle, realizing belatedly that I should have tested it before. I should have known my luck wouldn’t hold. Of course, it’s locked. I hadn’t foreseen that. I’ve only ever opened it from the inside. I throw my shoulder against it, but it doesn’t budge. How could I have been so stupid?
“Ghent!” I hiss into the transmitter. “The door’s locked!” I charge for the stairs. Maybe we can both hide in the shed and formulate another plan. When I’m halfway down, I barrel into a figure bolting up. Ghent. He’s holding something. A small metal clip. He grabs my upper arms to steady us both.
“I can fix it,” he says.
“We don’t have time.” I try to shove him away, back down the stairs, but he pushes past me, almost sending me over the railing, and starts fidgeting with his new device at the lock.
I race up beside him. “What is that?”
“My version of a skeleton key. I can override the lock with it.”
I wonder how many other tricks he’s picked up with only his books and his mothers for company. The thought is unsettling. I’m no slouch with technology. But this deman is something else. It’s strange to think that despite being locked
away his whole life, he has more useful skills than I learned in all my cycles at school.
The volume of workers’ voices increases.
“Ghent!” I grab at his arm to pull him away as the door swings open. He flashes me a triumphant smile.
“Get out of here.” I turn him toward the stairs.
Without a word, he complies. I wait until he’s safely back in hiding. Then I slip into the factory, hurrying across the upstairs walkway to the storage area. The lights are dim. They haven’t yet gone to full strength for the day shift. Without my communicator, I can’t unlock the storage room door automatically, but this one is easy enough to crack. Gamma taught me how to do it when we both started working here. After a little recoding, the door opens.
The room is dark, so I feel my way to a low shelf where I can hide behind several of the larger dye barrels. It won’t be safe to move around until the day shift starts up. The air is thick and stale. They don’t go through much dye during the night. I’m probably the first person in here since yesterday. It’s also cold. It takes a while for the sun to heat things up. I rub my hands together and blow on them.
“Ghent,” I whisper into the transmitter at my collar. “I’m in. I hope you’re hearing me. The shift will start in a moment.”
The machines should be warming up soon. My legs cramp. It seems like an eternity before the second buzzer sounds and the whooshing and pumping of the machinery crescendos. The chatter of the girls rises in volume in concert with it. They have to talk loud to be heard over the din. I figure it’s safe to whisper an update: “Ghent. The shift has started. Sit tight.”
It’s warmer now. I imagine Ghent pressed into the corner of the shed, hiding under the stinky tarpaulin. He’s probably as cramped and uncomfortable as I am. Eventually, I decide it’s safe to push myself out of my hiding place. I groan as I straighten my legs. No sooner do my muscles relax than the storage room door opens. Raised voices approach. Startled, I dive back into my hiding spot, calf muscles screaming in protest.
Inside the Palisade Page 9