by RaeLynn Fry
“Easy for someone to say who won't be burdening any of those risks!” someone shouts from the crowd.
“I never said I wouldn't—”
“How do we even know these risks will be worth it? How do we know that there's survival without the Corporation?” This is said by the new man.
“Freedom is worth all the risks you have to take to get it!” I am beyond frustrated with this small minded and short sighted group. Usually there are a small handful of people on my side. “Look, maybe we should call it a night,” I say.
“Proof!” someone shouts from the group.
“What?” Karis says, standing up. This is the first time she's said anything to the crowd all night.
“Give us proof there’s something worth taking these risks for.” The room has gone completely still. No one is moving, but I see shifting, wide eyes, that are, like me, wondering where this is going.
“What kind of proof do you want?” I ask.
“Ethan, no. It's a game he's playing, don't take the bait.” She puts a hand on my forearm. She seems both mad and a little fearful.
“Not our problem. It's yours. Find the proof and we'll follow you,” he says.
“Speak for yourself,” someone else shouts.
“Unless there is none, and you know it,” he says with a smug smile.
“I—”
“That's enough for tonight’s meeting,” Karis says. “We stopped being productive a long time ago and it's getting late. Be safe going home, everyone. We'll let you know when the next meeting is.” She turns and starts gathering up papers that I didn't even get to use tonight. The room remains silent for a little while longer before the creaks of people leaving trickles out the door.
“I worked with Dhevan a little bit this morning, before seeing you in the streets.” I slide the loose sheets of paper into my pack, I want to try and fix the stale air between Karis and me.
“Oh? What did he have you help with?” She doesn't sound one hundred percent interested, but I'll take the opening.
“I helped with the calving. A bull was born.”
“Another one? I bet he didn't handle that well.”
“No, he didn't.” I stack a couple of chairs against the wall. “He also didn't handle me that well, either.”
She lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, Dhevan tends to be a little less tame than me.”
“I know you said he takes a while to warm up to people, but I'm really starting to think he doesn't care for me much. He's always saying things—”
Karis straightens up with a snap. “I'm really tired of you seeing things that aren't there with him.”
I grind my teeth, chanting in my head that I want to repair our hard feelings. I manage to grind out, “And I'm so tired of you not being around to see the things that are there.” Crap. This isn't going the way I wanted it to.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“You're not around a lot lately, Karis.” With an angry snap, I close a chair and toss them with the others. The sound clatters against the walls. “You’re distracted all the time.”
“You're not the only one with a lot on their mind, Ethan.”
“I know you have a lot on your mind. It's just too bad that I'm not one of them.”
“Yeah, it's too bad that I'm not one of the things on your mind, either.”
I curse under my breath and go to the podium, putting it back in the broom closet. Where did it all go wrong between us? I want it to go back to how it was in Dahn. Working together, growing closer.
“I can hear you sighing in there,” she says.
I stand in the dim light of the closet, my hand on the back of my neck, and take a few minutes to put everything into perspective. I'm fighting my father, not Karis. I have to do whatever I can to squash these fights and feelings that seem to be continuously creeping up between us. They're not real. They can't be. It's because we're both so stressed and worried that we're acting like this towards each other. Fear brings out the ugliness in a person. I close the door to the closet and start again.
“What was that whole thing about at the end of the meeting with that man?” I say, my voice soft.
She seems to have come to the same conclusion I did in the closet, because she's more resigned in her response, not so sharp with me. “It’s a trap. There's no proof you could give them that will ever be good enough, and he knows it.” She grabs a broom sweeps a few boards.
“He brings up a good point. I don't blame them for asking for it. I'm actually a little surprised it's only now just come up.”
“They shouldn't need it.”
“Why not? We're asking them to risk their lives and their family’s' safety. It's the least we can do.”
“What proof are you planning to give them? From where? Neither of us can go back into the Inner City to get anything, and we didn't bring anything back with us that's hard enough proof.”
“I need to think about it.”
Karis snaps her chair shut and looks up at me with intense irritation. “No, you don't. I know that man. He can't be trusted.”
“How do you know he can't be trusted? Who is he?”
“His name is Raj Verna. He used to live across the street from us with his wife and daughter.”
“Okay, so he moved. What’s the big deal about that?”
“The night I got my Black Market tattoo, when I got back home, I saw two Guards come to his house. They dragged him outside. When his daughter went to stop them, they shot her. Then they killed his wife and dragged Raj away.”
Her dark memory makes my skin cold, and I shiver. “Where'd they take him? And why would they kill his family like that?”
Karis shrugs, stopping her sweeping. “I heard the Guards say it was because they were siphoning illegal electricity, but that's a thin excuse. And they certainly didn't have to kill his family for it. All I know is, this is the first time I've seen him since that night, that means he’s probably been in the Inner City the entire time.”
“And I saw him chatting it up with one of the women who wasn’t too happy with what you were saying.”
I press my lips together as I think, staring at the floor before talking again. “We should probably keep an eye on him. It’s no coincidence that he turned up at our meeting tonight.”
“I think you're right.”
“That means my father knows that we're up to something.”
“And more importantly, he's trying to trap you into something.”
“This is the start of his plan,” I say.
“Which is why we can't listen to Raj. He’s not here to join our cause, he’s probably here on your father’s orders, which is beyond dangerous. We have to stop these meetings, start up again later at a different place. If he’s found out, it will only scare everyone more than they already are and ruin what trust you’ve somewhat gained with them.”
“Which is why we have to listen to Raj.”
“How'd you get there?” This is the angriest I’ve seen her. She’s trying to keep it under control, but I can see the struggle.
“Part of our winning is knowing what my father has planned and stopping it. To do that, I need to follow this through and see where it leads. We need to know what the Corp has planned. How far they're willing to go.”
One of the things that made me fall in love with Karis was her passion for everyone she cares for. And it comes out extra fierce now. “I know how far they're willing to go.” She's mad at me. She pushes her broom handle into my chest and heads towards the door that leads into The Tavern’s kitchen. “Death.”
“Do you want me to walk you home?” I ask. There was a time when I wouldn't have even suggested the proposal, just done it, no matter how angry we were at each other. And that time was only a couple of weeks ago.
“No,” she says. “It's late; you should just head back to Eta's. I'll be fine.”
“Only if you're sure.”
“I'm sure.” She walks through the door.
�
�’Night, Karis.” But she’s already gone.
I pack up the rest of my things slowly. She's right; my father won’t bother hesitating to get me out of the way if it means protecting his secrets and plans. I wouldn't even be a second thought to him.
But I also know, deep down, that if we are to stand a chance, I need to get the proof that would give Neech hope. Whatever it is they need that would show them there’s something better to fight for. I'm just sorry Karis and I aren't united on this.
७
I was calm when I left the meeting, but as I was walking home, I picked apart our fight and the things we said and the things I should have said to make a better point, to prove I was right and Karis was wrong. The more I went over our argument, the angrier I got; to the point I was practically seething and muttering to myself when I got home.
I push through the back door and slam it shut, ripping off my duster and flinging it at the peg on the wall. It hits with a weak slap and crumples to the floor. I grab at my mask and tear it from my face, one side of the elastic getting caught up on my ear. I jerk harder and the elastic yanks free, snapping the sensitive skin next to my eye.
“Damn it!” I bark out, throwing the thing on the table. It gets tangled in my fingers and doesn't leave. I close my eyes and take a breath. I reach down with my other hand and calmly untangle the elastic bands. I crush it in my palm and throw it onto the kitchen table.
Karis is the most stubborn creature I've ever met. She is so strong headed and can only see a few feet in front of her. She’s either incapable or has no desire to see the bigger picture—what we need to do now in order to make a better and safer then. She's so selfish. And she has the audacity to say she's been neglected by me? How about her ignoring me? Gah! I shake my head to try and expel these thoughts.
My heart is clipping along again and the blood beneath my skin heats up. I can't keep doing this to myself. I need to push this fight with her aside and try to get some sleep. She and I can revisit this again, later. After we've both cooled off. Eta’s got to have some sort of tea to help me calm down.
I make my way towards the kitchen when my foot makes a slight clink above a bit of a hollow thud. I don't remember the floor ever making that noise before. I rock my weight to my back foot. A creak comes up again. I’ll fix it for Eta. I’ll fix the hell out of it. She hates little annoyances like this, this will get me extra points with her and distract me for a short time from Karis, and a few extra hard pounds of the hammer won’t hurt, either.
I put a kettle of water on the fire for my tea and rummage through the meager tool box we have. I pick up the hammer and go back over to the board. I rock around, back and forth, between my two feet.
It's a board under the area rug between the couch and the kitchen. I drop down to my knees and throw the corner of the rug back. I press my palms along the floor seams to find the exact spot that's loose. Once I find it, I wedge the claw end of the hammer in and start to bend it back. I stop.
Light. Light is leaking out from the widened crack. I pull the hammer back, and the glow all but disappears. I put the rug into place and inspect the area again. Nothing out of the ordinary. I fold back the rug and notice something I hadn’t before. Attached to the fabric is a loose string that disappears between the boards.
I bend down closer to the boards, looking for some sort of way in to whatever is down there. There’s a faint outline my fingertips catch on where the boards have been cut. I trace it, estimating each side of the square to be about three feet on each side.
As I'm following the seams, the pads of my fingers catch on an uneven portion. There's a dip in the line just big enough for me to hook my fingernails into. I lift. Without so much as a whisper, the cut out square pulls up and back on some impressively quiet hinges. Weak, flickering light pools in the space beneath me. I can't see much, other than the rungs of a ladder that descend into the void.
“What have I got to lose?” I whisper, and turn around to climb down the ladder.
No sooner do my feet hit the earthen floor, than I hear a quick and somewhat irritated, “What are you doing down here?” I turn to see Eta holding a knife out in front of her in one hand while the other stays behind her back, like she's reaching for something.
Maybe her eyesight isn't so good down here. Maybe she thinks I'm someone else.
“What are you doing down here?” I say, impressed at what she’s been hiding from me.
“It's my house, boy, I do what I want. Your generation is insolent and nosey; never minding your own business nor respecting authority.”
Well, that clears up the possibility of her not recognizing me. She most certainly is aware of who is down here with her and her knife is still held at the ready.
I try not to smile. She reminds me of an old, mangy cat I had when I was younger. I was constantly teasing it, and as a result, the creature was constantly on the defensive, circling me until she could find a quick way out of the room. Eta has that look in her eye right now. Only, she's not thinking of escape, she's preparing for a fight.
“I just got home from a bad meeting and a fairly respectable fight with Karis. I decided to make some tea. When I came into the kitchen, I noticed one of the floorboards was creaking. I decided to fix it for you and noticed a light coming from under the floor. Satisfactory answer?”
She curses under her breath, shooting me an annoyed look.
“What is this place?” I ask. “And you can put the knife away; I'm friend, not foe.”
She lifts up the hem of her long skirt and slips the knife into a leather holster tied against her calf. I raise my brow, impressed, again. I'm about to say something, but the look she shoots me sews my lips shut.
“This is my basement,” she clips out.
“I picked up on that,” I say, walking up to one of the earthen walls. There are dips and waves all along its surface. This was definitely handmade. I estimate it’s a little over six feet, since my head doesn’t touch the ceiling. “You obviously put this in; it wasn’t a part of the house, originally.”
“Don't let anyone ever say you aren't a smart boy, Ethan Hughes.”
Ouch. “And I thought you chose this location because you—how did you put it? Were closest to the people who needed you most, and so you could have a garden plot.” I stop and smile. “Ah, your garden. I suppose that's where you put all this dirt and why it's so rich? You crafty little crow.”
“There are several reasons why I chose to live here; don't go assuming you know them.”
“Why are you hiding this place? I mean, I can understand from others, but from me?”
“I don't know you from Adam, young man. It takes more than writing a few newsletters and moving from the Inner City to gain my trust on this level.”
Those words hurt more than the ones between Karis and me. Out of all the people here, I thought that maybe, maybe, Eta believed in and trusted me. I thought she had hope and promise in what I was doing.
“If you tell anyone about this, Ethan Hughes, I will personally take you to your father's stoop. People's lives and well-being depend on the secrecy of this place and the confidentiality of what is done down here.”
“You can trust me, Eta. I won't tell a soul.”
“Not even Karis,” she says, almost not waiting for me to finish.
I scoff. Not a hard promise for me to make, since I assume we won’t really be speaking to each other anytime soon. Not civilly, anyway. “Not even Karis,” I say.
“I'll know if you break your promise.” Her eyes are hard and knowing, and I wonder for a split second, if there's more than one witch in Neech. “And no, I had no intention of telling you or anyone about this place.”
“I won't tell her. I don't even think we're talking right now, anyway.”
She lifts an eyebrow at that but doesn't ask me to clarify. “This is my lab. It's not as fancy or sophisticated as the ones in Dahn, but it serves its purpose.”
“What are you working on?” I step around her to
the bench table. A glass canister sits on a small burner. A yellowish liquid simmers, turning from a light brown to a sickly orange before going back to yellow. “What's this from? One of Karis' filters?”
“The sickness that is taking so many of our people.”
I take a step back. “Maute? Isn't that a little...irresponsible?”
“That's the antidote you brought back. I've been trying to replicate it. But on a natural level, if possible. Karis' canisters are over there.” She nods to the corner of her counter. “I'm trying to deconstruct it, too. In its true form, as much as we know it to be, anyway. We have found that the body manipulates it once it's been ingested.”
There’s that mysterious we again. I step closer, looking at the dropper of clear liquid, swirling with silver nanos. “Have you been successful?”
She takes her experiment and squeezes a few small drops into the simmering sickness. Nothing happens at first. Then, slowly, the yellow turns to green and then to blue.
“It looks like it's working,” I say.
“Keep watching,” she says.
I look back at the container just in time to see the yellow-brown come back full force.
“But you're close.”
“Close? We may as well go back to being ignorant of its existence.”
I turn away and take in the rest of the small space. The workbench lines the length of the room, about twelve feet. There's a ladder leading up to the trapdoor and in the far corner is a metal table made from what look like mismatched items. It's slightly slanted, with a small hole at the lower end. Directly beneath the hole is a bucket. There's dried brown blood in some of the corners and along the edge of the side closest to me.
“I'm almost afraid to ask what this is for.”
“Sometimes, in the name of science, and to save lives, blood must be spilled.”
Not for the first time since being in Neech, I wonder exactly who Eta is. She's definitely not who others think. I accept her answer with a nod. “I agree.”
“Did you get your tea?”
“Huh?” I turn back around to face her.
“You said you came here because you needed some tea. Did you get it?”