Time Zero

by Carolyn Cohagan

  “Thanks,” I say. Grace speaks more confidently now than she did in the library. I’m not sure if it’s because we’re in her room or because Nana is gone.

  “They’re both about this amazing girl,” she says, “named Nancy Drew, and she’s a detective who solves crimes. She always catches the criminal because she’s really smart.”

  As I flip through the first book, she says, “So what’s it like?”

  “What?”

  “Uh . . . being with a boy.”

  I flush but don’t look up. “I haven’t . . . Juda and I never . . . Who’s been saying we’ve . . . done it?” I bet it was Rayna, trying to turn all of them against us.

  The color drains from Grace’s face, and she looks like she wants to bury herself under her stuffed animals. “No. I meant . . . uh, what’s it like to talk to him . . .”

  Now it’s my turn to cringe. “I’m so sorry. I thought—”

  “I know,” she says, stopping me from saying it again. “It’s my fault. It was a weird question.”

  “It wasn’t. It’s fine.” I search for a way to end the awkwardness. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Always,” she says with a shrug.

  “You mean you were born here?”

  “Almost. I came when I was, uh, a baby.”

  “What happened to your parents?” I say.

  “My mother got, uh, pregnant out of wedlock. She was sent to the, uh, Tunnel, but she got me to Ayan before I was sent, too.”

  Her nerves are back. I can hear it in her voice. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Don’t be. I have dozens of mothers.”

  And they’re probably a lot nicer than mine. “But they never let you talk to a boy?”

  She strokes the head of a worn stuffed elephant. “No boys ever, uh, come down here.”

  “And you never go out? Ever?”

  “Ayan thinks it’s too dangerous.”

  “You’ve never been outside?” Wow. Grace is worse than Sekena. Feeling bad that I embarrassed her, I say, “Would you like to talk to Juda?”

  “I couldn’t,” she says, playing with her strand of hair. “I’d be too, uh . . . He’d think I was weird.”

  “No. Not at all. He’ll like you.” I stand.

  “Now?” Alarm fills her face, like I’ve said we’re about to meet Uncle Ruho. She pats down her bushy hair. “I should change.”

  “You look great.” Looking around, I say, “Take him a book. I’m sure he’d be happy to have something to do.”

  She grins. I’ve found her specialty. After searching a few piles, she chooses one called How to Win Friends and Influence People.

  “It’s pretty useful,” she says. “Especially when you’re, uh, in a place where maybe people don’t like you so much.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ve read it three times.”

  I wonder how bad Grace’s ability to speak to people could possibly have been before she read the book.

  Soon Grace and I are walking down the hall, arm in arm, and I realize bringing her with me to see Juda is a genius idea. She can act as a buffer between Juda and me, so we don’t have to talk about our fight.

  But I don’t have a chance to see whether my plan will work. When we arrive at Juda’s room, Grace gasps. The door is wide open, splintered where the lock was, and when I walk inside, Juda is gone.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” GRACE YELLS AS I race down the hall.

  “To see if I can catch him!” I say.

  I head back to the main room, leaving Grace behind. I run into the passage that brought us here yesterday, but it’s black as a starless night. Without Rayna’s flashlight, I doubt I can make my way.

  I call out, “Juda!” Maybe the dark slowed him down, too.

  Silence.

  Reaching to my left, I grope the air until my hands land upon cold cement. I slide my fingers along, years of dust coming with them. My foot brushes something that scurries across the floor, causing me to cry out and almost turn back. I slide my hands forward again, the grit coating my palms, and take another two steps.

  What if he’s gone? The last thing I said to him was . . . Oh God. I accused him of liking me because I wore a tight dress.

  Of course he left. He hates me.

  I slide my hands farther, when something comes barreling out of the darkness, knocking me to the ground.

  A voice says, “Who’s there?”

  Moaning from the floor, I say, “Juda?”

  A beam of light hits me.

  “Mina, what are you doing here?”

  I don’t respond. I hear two clicks, then Rayna’s voice. “I asked you a question.”

  She must be in her Twitcher uniform, and now she’s removed her helmet to speak to me.

  I sit up, a bit muddled. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Were you running away?” she asks, ignoring my sarcasm.

  “Juda left.”

  “Good.”

  “You didn’t see him outside?” I ask, impatient.

  “No. But I did see several dozen Twitchers, and they have only one thing on their mind.”

  “What?”

  “You.”

  Grabbing my sleeve, Rayna drags me back to the main room, where she whispers in Gray’s ear. Gray scurries around the room, murmuring to everyone, until no one is talking. They all stare up at the ceiling, as if they can see through it to the Twitchers patrolling above. One or two women look at me with disdain.

  I don’t understand. Isn’t everyone here a Deserter? Aren’t Twitchers looking for all of us?

  Rayna once again grabs my sleeve, pulling me to Ayan’s office. We enter without knocking, surprising Ayan.

  “We need to talk about the girl,” Rayna says, shaking me slightly.

  “I’ve had enough of you today, Rayna,” Ayan says, cool as ever. “We can talk tomorrow.”

  Releasing my sleeve, Rayna approaches Ayan and mumbles in her ear. I strain to hear her words but can’t.

  Ayan stands, smiles at me, and says, “Let’s go to the media room, shall we?”

  What did Rayna say that has changed Ayan’s attitude so drastically?

  We run into Grace in the hallway. “Did you find him?” she asks, touchingly worried.

  Ayan says, “Juda’s loose?”

  “He’s not a hamster,” I say, annoyed. “He’s a person. And he’s left, so you can all relax now.”

  “I didn’t pass him when I came in,” Rayna says. “He must have used the south exit.”

  Grace pats my arm. “I’m sorry.”

  Rayna and Ayan say nothing, continuing to walk. They’re content to let him disappear, another man they don’t have to think about. But, as much as I want to blame them for Juda’s departure, I know why he really left: I couldn’t tell him what he needed to hear.

  “Where are you going?” Grace says.

  “The media room,” Rayna says.

  “Can I come?” Grace asks.

  Rayna scratches her blue hair, smiles at Grace, and says, “Okay. But don’t touch anything.”

  Wow. Rayna likes Grace. Nice to know she likes someone.

  Soon we reach a green door, which Rayna unlocks. Several desks line the room, radios and random computer parts sit everywhere, and a large monitor hangs on the wall.

  “This’ll take a minute,” Rayna says.

  The rest of us sit down.

  Placing her Twitcher helmet on a desk, Rayna grasps the wire running out of the back of her uniform—the one that attaches to the helmet. She disconnects the wire, laying aside the helmet. Then she tugs at one of the gloves she’s wearing, exposing wires between her jacket and the glove. It feels like we’re looking at the wrist of a robot.

  “Don’t pull too hard. You’ll break them,” Ayan says.

  Rayna glares at her like a mother being told how to breastfeed her own baby. She separates the tiny wires until she finds the one she wants, and then she pulls it. The wire that was att
ached to the helmet moves through the jacket like a snake until Rayna holds the whole thing, nearly three feet long.

  She plugs the loose end into the monitor on the wall.

  She wriggles her fingers a few times, and a keyboard pops up on the monitor screen.

  “What did you do?” I ask, amazed.

  “Not a big deal,” she says. “I just rerouted the Twitcher feed from inside the helmet.”

  “It’s way cool,” says Grace in a knowing voice.

  I agree. Now, anything that would be on Rayna’s Twitcher computer, we’ll see on the monitor. As Rayna’s fingers type in the air, we see keys light up on-screen. She says, “This is the main alert I saw when I was up top.”

  Information scrolls up the monitor, too fast for me to keep up.

  Priority One . . . Mina Clark . . . Assault . . . Missing . . .

  “I saw at least two dozen Twitchers in the area,” Rayna says, “I assume because she’s ‘Priority One.’”

  “Why? She’s not a threat to the government,” Ayan says.

  “Beats me,” says Rayna. “But that’s not the weirdest part.” She types again.

  More words scroll up, and one sentence flashes over and over in yellow at the bottom:

  Offender to be returned UNHARMED to home of Maxwell Asher.

  I’m relieved that Juda isn’t mentioned. Mr. Asher hasn’t turned him in. I wonder when Juda will start to wonder why.

  Ayan is staring at me. I can’t tell whether her expression is one of concentration or suspicion. “My understanding,” she says, “is that you’re accused of dishonoring a marriage contract, correct?” I nod at her. “That means the Tunnel, at the very least. Together with the assault of your fiancé . . . you should be looking at execution.”

  Nana must have told her my whole story.

  “Isn’t this, uh, good news?” says Grace from the corner.

  I agree. Are Ayan and Rayna disappointed that I’m not in worse trouble than I am? “‘Priority One,’” Ayan says, “means Uncle Ruho is using all of his resources to find you.”

  Now I understand why the women in the other room were worried. I’ve put the Laurel Society in danger. That’s why Ayan was so quick to respond when Rayna whispered in her ear. But I have no idea why Uncle Ruho is interested in me, or why he would show me leniency. He loves a good execution.

  Ayan has similar questions. “Since when does Uncle Ruho want to help Maxwell Asher, a dodgy real estate man?”

  “But he’s not in real estate. He works at the Energy Department,” I say, “like my father.”

  “Since when?” Ayan asks.

  “Ummm . . . since they started to build the Cooper Water Plant, six years ago. He’s the chief engineer. Father was really annoyed. He said Mr. Asher had never built anything like it and was unqualified.”

  “Why would Uncle Ruho want Asher to be involved with a water plant?” Ayan says. “Rayna, check Asher’s bank accounts for a large withdrawal right before he started working for the Energy Department. Maybe he bribed someone to get the job.”

  As Rayna types, Ayan taps her fingers on a desk.

  How do you check someone’s bank account? Women aren’t allowed to have them—we aren’t even welcome in banks. The information must be on a computer somewhere. When I watch men go to an ATM to recharge a battery or a lightbulb, they insert a card that I assume holds their name and account information.

  “Maybe Mr. Asher wanted to reform his reputation?” Grace says. “Do something for the city?”

  Rayna rolls her eyes. “Once a scumbucket, always a scumbucket.”

  Grace laughs, then covers her mouth.

  Numbers scroll across the monitor at such a speed, I’m amazed Rayna can make any sense of them. “There!” Rayna says, shouting with surprise, as she freezes the screen. “Ayan, it’s not a withdrawal . . . it’s a deposit, a big one. One hundred million BTUs.”

  “Uh, what does that mean?” I ask.

  Ignoring me, Ayan pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. After a while, she says, “See if there’s a public record of it. A sale in that amount. I suppose Asher might have sold his real estate business.” She doesn’t sound convinced.

  Rayna types away. What does any of this have to do with the Twitchers who want to arrest me? I feel like Ayan is talking about squares when I thought we were talking about circles.

  “Yes,” Rayna says, and Ayan’s head pops up in surprise. Rayna reads, “‘City buys Mercury Recycling Plant from Asher Organization.’”

  “Just one building? Why would Uncle Ruho buy some old plant for a hundred times what it’s worth?” Ayan says.

  “That recycling plant’s been gone for years,” Rayna says, confused. “It’s just a muddy lot.”

  Ayan taps her fingers some more, saying, “I need to sit down.”

  “What’s wrong?” Rayna says.

  Resting in a chair next to me, Ayan stares at her hands as if they belong to someone else. “Mercury . . . If you ingest it, it can cause infertility, birth defects, cancer. I think I might understand why the Convenes are getting sick.” Her breathing becomes shallow. “If Maxwell Asher built the Cooper water plant using the pipes and infrastructure from the recycling center, he could have been slowly poisoning Convenes for the last five years.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, but I feel my body go hot with fear.

  “Uncle Ruho wants to wipe out the Convenes, and he paid Asher to poison their water supply.” Ayan says this as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  “This is causing the plague?” Rayna says.

  “But why would Uncle Ruho want to kill the Convenes?” I say.

  “He tells the Teachers it’s to suppress an uprising,” Ayan says, “but we believe he doesn’t have enough food or fuel for the whole island, so he wants to cut the population in half.”

  “You’re wrong! The water plant is saving lives!” But even as I say the words, I feel like I’m sinking deep into the floor. What was it I heard Captain Memon say to Mr. Asher? I want to discuss your contribution to the Convene problem. I assumed he meant a monetary contribution—toward finding a cure. Now I see that Captain Memon was thanking Mr. Asher for producing the problem.

  I look back at Ayan, whose mouth has set in a hard line. Even Grace is staring at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. I say, “Father has no idea. He would be heartbroken. He’s spent half his life finding a way to filter that water.”

  Rayna watches me closely, probably trying to decide whether I’m lying.

  “I have to tell him,” I say.

  Rayna and Ayan exchange glances.

  “He would close the plant if he knew!” I say, looking at Grace. “He has nothing against the Convenes.”

  Ayan says, in her most composed tone, “This neighborhood is infested with Twitchers with one directive: to find you. So if you’re prepared to be captured, to be married to a boy who tried to rape you, then by all means, walk out the door and go warn your father. But know that the Ashers will never let you escape again.”

  I look at Rayna, knowing that if I’m looking to her for help, my cause is lost.

  She surprises me by saying to Ayan, “The plant will be shut down much faster if we have someone on the inside.”

  “Agreed,” says Ayan. “But we can’t risk the possibility that Mr. Clark is part of the plan. He would warn Uncle Ruho. We need to contact Jordan Loudz and the Convenes. They can deal with the water plant however they want and spread the word about contamination. This is bigger than the Laurel Society.”

  I thought the Laurel Society helped women in need! What about the Convene women who will suffer—who will still be drinking the poisoned water while word slowly spreads? My father could shut down the plant in one day. Now I understand what Rayna was talking about; how can Ayan be content to sit underground, watching all these horrible things go on in the world above? I know she’s helping people, but what about all the people she’s failing?

  “I’m
sorry, Mina,” Ayan says in a softer voice. “If your father truly doesn’t know what his water is doing, then he’s been ignorant and blind and he’ll have to suffer the consequences. There’s nothing we can do.”

  I hate her for reducing my father to such simple, pathetic terms. “My father has spent his life finding a new water source for this city,” I say, seething, “so that in ten years we don’t all die of thirst. I would hardly call that ignorant.”

  Ayan says, “I’m sure his intentions were once noble.”

  “They still are!” I cry. I want to pick up the equipment lying around the room and throw it at her. Why can’t she have any compassion? Is it because it’s my father? Would she be more understanding if I wanted to go help my mother?

  I look at Rayna, praying she’ll support me. “Tell her. Tell her we have to do more!”

  Rayna grinds her teeth, but she says nothing.

  “You girls should leave,” Ayan tells Grace and me, her tone calm and unflinching. “Rayna and I have a lot to talk about.”

  That’s it? End of discussion?

  “Go spend some time with your nana. Or relax in your room,” Ayan says. “I’ll find you if we need more information.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I say, heading for the door.

  “Mina?”

  I don’t stop, but Grace says my name, too, so I turn around.

  “Promise me you won’t leave the building,” Ayan says, somber. “If you’re caught, you put us all in danger.”

  We stare at each other for a long time, but finally I give her a curt “fine.”

  Then I leave with Grace before I lose my temper again.

  Numb, I walk behind her to my room, and soon we’re seated on my bed, the scent of lavender now overly sweet and suffocating.

  “I’m really, uh, sorry about your father,” Grace says.

  I reach for a bar of soap and run my thumbnail down the edge, leaving a long mark.

  “I believe you,” she says, “that he doesn’t know what’s happening.”

  “Why?” I snap. “No one else does.”

  She picks at a curl of her hair, splitting the ends, while I continue to scratch at the soap. I like the way the waxy substance feels under my nails, and I imagine digging away until there’s nothing left but a tiny purple pea.