“Do you really think I can fool a guard?” I say.
“You can do it. Just sneak in, sneak out and … come over after?”
The next move is mine. If I’m going to do this I have to move. Now. Without warning, Gamma leans across and pecks me on the cheek. “Go for it.”
With that, she’s gone.
I let my feet take me in the right direction. The walls are bright white and the lights are harsh in this corridor. Printed signs indicate the different wards. It’s the middle of the shift, so the hallways are relatively quiet. Med-Techs and Aides are making their rounds but without the hustle and bustle that accompanies shift changes. The scent of antiseptic and bleach is stronger here. The few staff I pass don’t seem to notice me. I force myself on, my footfalls muffled against the linoleum. The door at the top of the stairwell is closed. I grasp the knob, but don’t turn it. Once I do, there’ll be no turning back.
Taking a breath for luck, I open the door to peer into the corridor. Ghent’s mothers’ room is immediately obvious. A Protector slouches outside, red hair clashing with the black uniform. She seems bored, staring at her communicator. I walk forward with all the confidence I can manage. Stopping in front of her, careful to keep my head down, I mumble, “Cleaning service, room two-one-three.”
“Weren’t you here a couple of hours ago?” she asks.
“Uh, not me, ma’am.” I lower my voice in an attempt to disguise it. “Would you like me to check with my boss?”
The Protector lifts her communicator to make a call. She’s not going to give me any choice. I’ll have to run. My muscles tense. I doubt I can outrun her but I’ll have to try. A loud bang comes from the stairwell. The Protector pushes me aside. The stairwell door opens and a set of fingers curls around its edge, large deman fingers, followed by a shock of messy dark hair right before the door slams shut again.
Ghent.
He’s creating a diversion, so I can get into his mothers’ room.
“Wait here.” The Protector presses me against the wall and heads for the stairs.
This is it.
The second she’s out of sight, I open the door. The room is sparse. Both women are here, both of Ghent’s mothers, each a little older than in the image he showed me. Epsie lies unmoving on the bed, attached to several beeping machines, her tousled dark hair, so like Ghent’s, splayed out over the crisp white pillow. Her eyes are closed, a plastic tube taped across her nose and mouth. Delta is sitting in an orange chair beside the bed, holding her hand. She’s tall with short blonde hair and tired ice-blue eyes. Her grip tightens around her partner’s hand as she stares at me.
“Something going on?” Her voice is deep, controlled. A muscle in her jaw twitches, reminding me of Ghent.
As I move forward, she stands, effectively blocking Epsie from me.
“Don’t worry. I’m with Ghent.” My words come out in a rush. The color drains from her face. “I’m helping him.”
She looks me up and down. Her breath hitches when her gaze lands on my shoes. “Where did you get those?”
“He gave them to me.”
Her knuckles turn white around Epsie’s hand.
“I can’t stay long,” I say. “Your son distracted the guard, but she’ll be back. He needs to know you’re alright. Both of you. He won’t go outside the palisade until he knows you’re safe.”
Before Delta can respond, there’s a commotion in the hall. The guard is returning. I need more time. Grabbing one of the cleaning rags from my bucket, I race to the windowsill, pretending to dust it.
“Everything okay in here?” The Protector’s voice is gruff as she strides into the room. Delta sinks back into the plastic chair.
“You.” The Protector points to me. “Are you hearing impaired? I told you to wait outside.”
“I thought I should get started,” I say in my fake cleaner’s voice. “Didn’t know how long you’d be.”
“You’d better go until I can get this mess sorted out.”
I angle my cap farther down and take my time replacing my cleaning rags, so I have a chance to hear what she says next.
“What’s going on?” Delta asks the Protector.
“If it’s true that you have a son,” the Protector says to Delta, “there’s a good chance you’ll be seeing him real soon. You!” She turns her attention back to me. “What are you waiting for? Get out.”
As I move past Delta, she taps my wrist, and whispers urgently, “Get him out of here.” Her head is turned away from the Protector when she speaks. I give her a brief nod before hurrying away. Unsure of my next move, I dart into the stairwell and slam the door behind me. I sink onto the top step and try to control my heart rate. I half expect to see Ghent. The Protector said they’d have him in custody soon, but maybe she was trying to scare Delta. If they had caught him, she would have said so. Ghent is fast, and good at hiding. He’s going to be fine.
Chapter 16
Gripping my cleaning bucket so tight that my knuckles crack, I dart to the first floor. I open the door at the bottom of the stairwell a few inches and check the main corridor before charging past the spot where Gamma left me.
“Med-Tech Temple, please report to intensive care.” The announcement blares over the intercom. I pick up the pace, making good time to the storage closet where I hurl the bucket of cleaning supplies inside before racing to the back door. I keep the uniform on, hitching up my trousers so I don’t trip as I charge outside and slam the door behind me.
The air seems thicker now. The sun has reached its zenith, and I swelter under my double layer of clothing. I flip off the cap and use it to mop the sweat from my brow. Maybe I could stow the uniform in the rocks and get away incognito. If they’re looking for anyone other than Ghent it will be a cleaner.
I dive behind the rocks, tearing at the buttons on the coveralls. My hands are trembling, and it takes way too long, but I finally work them loose. Yanking the uniform off, I crumple it into a bundle and press the cap on top. Then I shove the whole thing into a crevice between the boulders. It’s not very well hidden, but hopefully no one will think to look out here anytime soon. The relative calm outside the Clinic scares me. It’s almost too quiet.
Pressing my cheek against the warm boulder, I hug my knees to my chest and try to center myself. I have no idea where Ghent is, or if he can hear me, but I grab for the transmitter and hope for the best. My fingers come up empty. I pinch the rim of the collar and work my fingertips all the way around.
It’s gone.
I can’t stand up for fear that someone might see me, so I sit as straight as possible, clawing at my clothes and hoping the transmitter has simply slipped down inside the collar.
Nothing.
I scramble for it on hands and knees. Thinking it may have become snagged in the coveralls, I yank the bundle out from where I stashed it. Flattening the uniform on the ground, I pat my hands over every inch of it. The device isn’t anywhere. I think back to my last clear memory of when I had it. I definitely had it with me in the intensive care unit. I remember it poking into my neck when I was pretending to clean the window frame. Could it have fallen into the bucket? That would mean Ghent might have heard Delta’s warning.
I need to believe he heard her and that he’s doing what she asked: escaping the palisade. At that thought, a hollow feeling churns through my stomach. If he’s on his way out of here, I need to worry about myself. Stay out of sight. And I can’t remain here. It’s too close to the Clinic, and it’s too exposed. What if I skirt around the fence-line to the far end of the reflection pool, near the woods where I first met Ghent? It’s out of sight. It’s well shaded, and there’s water.
It only takes about ten minutes to get there. Everything looks so different from the other night. The sun blazes overhead and the leaves shimmer in the trees. The surface of the pool reflects the puffy clouds scattered across the sky. Resting my back against a sturdy tree trunk, my legs give out and I let myself slide to the ground. I’m completely exhau
sted. Whatever adrenaline I had in the Clinic has abandoned me. I should be scared, or hungry, but I feel nothing except blades of grass spearing into my open palms.
Leaning my head against the rough bark, I let out a breath and gaze across the pool. I have no idea how long I sit here, perfectly still, watching the water. Eventually, the sun begins its gradual shift toward the horizon. I wonder how long I can stay out here before Gamma starts to worry, or worse. Starts to search for me. So I push my shoulders into the tree trunk for leverage and force myself to my feet. I brush dirt from my trousers and glance around. It’s quiet. The only smell is the sweet scent of the trees. That’s when I hear it. A low breathy sound, coming from the other side of the reflection pool. Turning toward the noise, I creep through the underbrush to the other side of the water.
My heart skips a beat when I see him.
Ghent.
He’s huddled between the roots of a gnarled oak, arms covered with grime, his shock of dark hair obscuring his features. His shoulders heave. Despite his bulk, he looks frail. He raises a forearm to wipe his eyes. That’s when he notices me. He stares as if I’m a ghost, but he’s the ghost. He should be gone by now. Before I can speak, he leaps to his feet and barrels into me, gripping me so tight I can hardly breathe.
“Ghent? What’s wrong?”
He says nothing, just holds me, his chin draped over my shoulder, his embrace tightening around me, causing a stab of pain to shoot up my arm. I gasp, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Finally, I wriggle to loosen his grip. He obliges, but doesn’t let go of me fully, and doesn’t raise his head. I allow myself to clasp the small of his back and rub in soft circles, feeling him relax under my palms.
“I’m so glad you’re,” he whispers into my hair. “I thought—”
“I’m fine.” I gather the material of his shirt in my hands, surprised at how much I need to hold on to him.
Even though he’s grimy and messed up, the scent of his mothers’ lavender soap lingers on his skin. I allow myself to stroke his hair, organizing the ratty clumps into some semblance of order. He sighs. His facial fur grazes the side of my neck. I’m surprised to realize it doesn’t bother me anymore.
We can’t stay like this. I pry myself away and grip his upper arms.
“Ghent, you have to get out of here.”
“I know.”
Maintaining my grip, I push him to arms’ length, marveling at how tall he is. I’m usually the tallest person in the room, but he towers over me. His face is a mess. I tentatively reach up to wipe the dirt from his cheeks. He lets me. Bolder now, I lick my thumb and wipe harder, like my mother used to do to me when I was a child. His skin is rough and hot. He raises his hand over mine and holds it there. His dark eyes are clearer now, the color of Ma Temple’s hot chocolate, and they’re fixed on mine.
Slowly, as if in a dream, he raises the back of a hand to my cheek and runs his knuckles across my jaw line. His touch is light as air. Surprising in its gentleness. I know this is wrong. I can’t let him touch me. It’s exactly what I was afraid of when I first met him. I look at my shoes, his mother’s shoes, and pull away. He reaches up and grasps my chin, forcing me to face him. He tilts his head and examines me carefully. His expression is strong and vulnerable at the same time.
“Thank you,” he says simply.
“For what?”
“Everything. I didn’t really believe…” His breath hitches. “I never thought that a girl, a woman would help me, might even be my friend. My mothers warned me never to trust anyone, except them. And now you’re here and you’re perfect, and … and we should stay together.”
Something jolts inside of me. Part of me wants him to be right, but he isn’t. Not in this life.
“We can’t. You know that,” I say. “And I’m far from perfect. I’m more of a monster than you ever were.”
“Don’t say that about yourself, Meg. Never say that.” He slides his palm to cup my cheek. His skin is rough and warm against mine.
“I was wrong about so many things before, Ghent. I’m embarrassed about what I thought of you. But I understand now. I really do.” I run my hand down his forearm and let it drop to my side. “I’m sorry about how I was before.”
He takes a step back, releasing my face. I feel the loss of his closeness like a rush of cold air. I’m desperate to be closer to him, to hold him again, but we can’t. He has to get out of here. “You heard what your mother said, right? You have to go.”
He bows his head. “Goodbye, Meg.”
He turns and begins to walk away without looking back. It’s as if a tremendous weight is crushing my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. Even though I know it’s the right thing to do, I can’t let him go. Not like this.
“Wait,” I call out, grabbing his arm and turning him to face me. I touch his cheek with the tips of my fingers. It’s rough and furry, and warm. I slide my palm across the fur.
He glances at me, pupils dilating as he takes my free hand and brings it to the other side of his face. He tilts his head so that my fingertips cover his lips. Then he pulls my hand away from his mouth, turning it over in his palm so he can press a kiss to each of my knuckles in turn. A fire ignites inside me, a wonderful joined sensation I’ve never felt before.
And I want more.
I draw him closer and slide my fingers into his hair, pulling his face down so that our mouths collide. I’ve never done this before with anyone. Our noses bump, but we soon figure out how to arrange ourselves for optimum contact. This first kiss feels weird, but not in a bad way. In a strange way it feels right, more right than anything I could have imagined. Maybe this is the real reason I’ve never had a relationship with anyone inside the palisade. Perhaps I don’t belong here anymore than Ghent does. Could it be true that we really do belong together? Should I go outside with him? Could I?
My thoughts melt away when his hands arc around my back to loosen my braid from its tie. His lips continue to explore my face. He plants tiny kisses on my eyelids, my cheeks, my nose, before returning to my lips. The grime on our skin mingles as his hands play through my hair. He unwinds my braid as I slip my hands under his shirt, reveling in the smooth skin stretched over hard muscle. I quiver as his hands start to move in expanding circles over my shoulders, finally catching his fingertips in my collar. This is all the reminder I need of the potential danger.
“Ghent.” I try to push him away, but it takes more will than I bargained for. Neither of us wants to stop. “I lost the transmitter.”
“I know.” He moves in to press a kiss against my neck, right on the spot where the transmitter was planted.
“They could find it. They could find you.”
His lips freeze against my neck. I shiver when he breaks contact. He places both hands on my shoulders and looks down at me, a sad smile playing over his features, top lip curving higher on the right side. Perfectly imperfect.
“You’re sure you won’t come with me?”
I want to. I want to so much that it hurts to say, “I can’t.” But that’s what I make myself tell him.
“I guess this wasn’t meant to be.” He takes a step back, releasing me and drawing up to his full height. He reaches for his cloak where it hangs over a tree branch. He’s truly leaving this time. A pang shoots through me.
“I’m not sorry we did that,” he says, arranging the fabric across his shoulders.
“Me either.” My entire body thrums with the need to hold him again, to follow him. But I force myself to stay where I am. If I let myself reach out for him, I’ll never be able to let him go.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like,” he says.
Oh. My cheeks burn. It’s not that he likes me. He was only curious. No wonder it was so easy for men to trick defenseless women into becoming Expectants, in the ancient times.
“Meg?” He looks horrified by my reaction. “Oh no, Meg.”
He strides over and takes my hands, pulling them to his chest and wrapping them in one of his. Enfold
ing me in his arms, he draws his cloak around both of us, creating a perfect cocoon. “I’ll never forget you. Whatever happens to me. You’ve changed my life.” He pulls away and forces me to look at him. His eyes bore into mine and they’re telling me hello and goodbye at the same time. He rests his forehead against mine and his words are a caress. “You’ll always be my Meg.”
Chapter 17
I don’t know how I manage to let him go, but I do. My plan is to stay in the shadows for a few more hours, long enough for him to get outside the palisade. He’s headed for an old gate in the palisade Delta told him about. It was part of their original plan. He wouldn’t let me go there with him. Said there’s too much open land, there would be too great a risk of my being spotted with him. So he left me at the reflection pool. I stare at the water until the sun begins to set, the hollow in my chest opening until I feel like it’s going to swallow me whole. It’s almost too dark to see the path when I finally pick my way back to the housing block.
As I walk, my mind replays the sensation of Ghent’s lips on mine, the way his heart thumped strong and solid beneath my palm. Now he’s gone. I pray he’ll be safe out there. Hugging my arms around me, I quicken my pace as the sun’s rays disappear from the sky, and my path is plunged into darkness, illuminated dimly by solar-powered lamps. I can’t see much by their light: only a few clumps of flowers growing wild beside the pathway and the smoke puffing from the factory’s chimney in the distance.
Eventually, the lights of the housing block come into view. A handful of workers straggle home from the factories and the fields. Life goes on. The lights are on in the Temples’ quarters. Gamma’s probably waiting for me. Her mother could be there too, but it’s a chance I’ll have to take. Slipping to the side entrance, I’m confronted by a shadowy figure on the stoop, knees clutched to her chest. Her head snaps up when I came into view.
“Omega?”
It’s Gamma. She doesn’t move, even when I take a hesitant step closer. She’s not looking at me at all. She’s staring into the distance.
Inside the Palisade Page 11