The Line Book One: Carrier

by Anne Tibbets

  He reached out, took the plate, his mouth slightly ajar. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  I shrugged, too hungry to give a long story. “Before the Line, I was a dishwasher in a restaurant. I picked up a thing or two.” I took a large bite of egg and chewed. It warmed my tongue and melted into my cheeks.

  “A thing or two?”

  My mouth was too full to verbally respond, but I managed a garbled, “It’s just an omelet.”

  Doc put the plate down and took a bite, using the fork from his first plate of burnt eggs. He groaned when the bite hit his tongue. “Oh, that’s good.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re easy.”

  He chewed vigorously, finishing his half of the omelet in seconds. It made me laugh to see him licking the egg remnants from his fork.

  “You want another one?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I finished my half of the omelet and made another one. This time I skipped the vegetables, since he was out of those, and added some leftover ground meat I found in the refrigerator.

  He groaned over that one even more than the first.

  “Wow,” I marveled. “The way you act, it’s like you never tasted food before.”

  “No, I have,” he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “When I was growing up we had...” He let the sentence die. “Anyway, it’s been a while. Thanks. That was great.”

  The notion that he was so moved by something as simple as a well-cooked egg gave me a sense of satisfaction I’d never felt before. That was new.

  Pride.

  “Well, I’m glad I could help you out. It’s the least I can do.”

  Doc took my empty plate from me, stacked the dirty dishes in the sink, ran a little water in them and then went back to his barstool. He picked up the tablet he had been reading. “Okay, now, down to business. You need a new name. Do you want it to start with the same letter? That way, it won’t be too far of a stretch.”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  He read from a list on his tablet screen. “Naavah, Nabila, Nadette, Nadia, Nadine, Naida, Nan, Nancy, Nanette, Naomi, Narcissa, Narda, Nastasia, Nasya, Natalia—”

  From the dream. “That one.”

  “Okay.” Doc pressed a few times on his tablet. “Do you care what your last name starts with?”

  “Not really.”

  “All right, you’re Natalia Snodgrass.”

  “Wait. Maybe I do care.”

  He peered up from his tablet with a devilish grin. Damn, he was cute.

  I found myself smiling. It felt good.

  He seemed to brighten. “Hmm. How about Cain, Ehrman, Safford, Slevin, White—”

  “What about Grey?”

  “Natalia Grey?”

  Not pure white. Not pitch black. Exactly in the middle. “Yes.”

  Perfect.

  “Okay.” He pressed the board some more. “And how about what you’d like to do after you have your new identity. Have you given that any thought?”

  “Like where I’d like to live?”

  He nodded.

  I shrugged, shifting on my barstool. “I heard that in West there are working communes where women take turns caring for the children, as the others pick crops in the fields.”

  “You want to pick crops for a living?”

  He sounded so astonished I second-guessed myself. “Sure, I guess. I’m willing to try something new. I’m not trained for anything else, other than washing dishes and having sex.”

  He blushed and frowned. “That’s not true.”

  “I’m afraid to admit it, but it is. Unless you can think of some other inherent skill I’ve neglected to mention?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me and cocked his head slightly to the side like the answer was obvious. “What about cooking? You just made me the best omelet I’ve had in years. Seriously.”

  He was being gracious. But I could tell from the sincerity in his eyes, he meant it.

  I laughed, but he didn’t waver.

  “It was only an omelet,” I said.

  Wasn’t it?

  Doc shook his head, disagreeing.

  Shirel had mentioned working for a rich family in South as a cook, but the idea hadn’t seemed like a real option. I figured at the time I’d make an adequate kitchen maid, but no more. Chefs were trained, had apprenticeships and years of preparation before they had their own kitchens. All I had were a few years of cooking lessons from an old man, a slave himself.

  “I mean, after a little bit of training, of course,” Doc added.

  “Training?”

  “Yes. If that’s what you want, we could set you up with an apprenticeship. Look, I don’t want to influence you. Just think on it. What do you really want? Anything. Just say the word.”

  Anything.

  The concept was absurd to me.

  Anything?

  How could I chose just anything, and then suddenly become that?

  Besides, whatever occupation I chose, I’d still be working for Auberge. Or for some family highly invested in Auberge.

  Every option within the walls held a risk of my being discovered. Whatever I chose, I’d have to think long and hard about it. But since this was the first real opportunity I’d had to consider it, I found the idea too large to comprehend.

  “Anything,” I said aloud. It was more of a comment than a question. I tried to picture myself in a few years. What would I be doing? I had the “me and my kids” part figured out, but the rest was unclear.

  What would I want to be doing?

  Doc waited while I thought. “This is your shot at a new life. We set you up with a work history, a family history. We’ll even pay for schooling, if that’s what you want.”

  “Who pays?”

  He shifted on the barstool and took a drink from his mug, as if the question made him uncomfortable. “Tym, Sonya and me. That’s why we do this.”

  It seemed like an incredible danger for them to take on account of me, and an expensive one at that. “Why?”

  He set the mug back on the countertop and clasped his fingers together. His gaze was steady. At first I couldn’t place why his eye contact made me uneasy, but then I realized most of the men from the Line didn’t look you in the face. They were either too embarrassed or had their eyes focused elsewhere. “We just want to help.” His eyes never left mine. “We don’t want anything from you. Honest. We each have our reasons.”

  I got the sense there was more he wasn’t telling me. But he believed what he said.

  He was telling the truth.

  “If you could do anything, anything at all,” he said, looking at me so intently I almost looked away, “what would it be?”

  I thought long and hard, not answering him.

  It was a lot of pressure.

  Whatever I did, it would have to be something I loved. Truly. This plan, this risk they were about to take on my behalf, had to be worth it.

  Was picking crops worth the risk? Was it really what I wanted?

  I had to answer honestly and say no. Not that there was anything wrong with an honest day’s hard labor, but in truth, the idea had only appealed to me when I’d thought about the child care, and now that I had people willing to help me, I had to think bigger.

  But to think bigger, I would have to be better educated.

  “Can I go to school?”

  A faint smile played on the corners of Doc’s lips. He flipped his bangs to the side. “Sure. If that’s what you want. What do you want to study?”

  His intent gaze made me skittish. I got off my barstool and walked into the kitchen, leaning my back against the kitchen counter.

  “How about a medical apprenticeship?” he offered.

  I shook my head. I didn’t th
ink I could look at a nurse or a hospital and not remember the infirmary. Wherever my life led, it had to be away from things that reminded me of that part of my past. “No.”

  “Okay,” he said. “How about banking?”

  “Nah.”

  “All right.” Doc took another drink from his mug. “Do you want to go into some sort of service? Or do you want to be rich?”

  I cracked a smile. He was making a joke. Nobody in Auberge was really rich, not since Auberge had seized all property.

  “If those are my only two options, then I choose service.”

  “You’d make one hell of a security guard,” he said, smirking.

  “Uh, no thanks.”

  “Fire patrol?”

  “No.”

  “Garbage detail?”

  “You just want to see what I’d look like in a uniform,” I quipped.

  Doc blushed to his ears. “No! I—No. I never, uh... What about education?”

  This stopped me.

  I’d never been to school. I had no idea what an educator did. But educators were respected, well paid, worked with children and got free schooling for children of their own. They also had housing and medical paid for by Auberge.

  But still, no matter how far I stretched my imagination, I couldn’t see my life as an educator either.

  “I like that idea,” I said. “But no.” I crossed my arms across my chest as I thought.

  What did I love, really?

  What made me happy?

  I absently turned and scraped the egg off the frying pan. And then it hit me. The answer was right in front of my face. Right there, in the kitchen. Doc had already seen it.

  “I think it’s cooking. It’s the only thing that makes me happy. That’s sad, isn’t it?”

  When I turned to face him, Doc looked depressed again. But he nodded and picked up the tablet from the countertop. He started typing. “No, it’s not. There’s a chef’s apprenticeship program in North. Very reasonable, and then you could get a job as an assistant chef, or a private chef for an individual family. That’s usually in South.”

  “Do I need any prior experience?” I barely knew how to read. Suddenly, the idea of schooling filled me with nerves.

  “No prior experience, it says.” He read from the tablet. “If you start at entry level. It might take a year, but they’d take care of you. Every apprenticeship program at the Institute is set up with child care, so the children can go there while you’re in class. I think you’d be a good chef. Heaven knows you cook a killer omelet.” He typed on his tablet some more, then gave me a soft smile. “You sure this is what you want?”

  I nodded. With each passing moment I became more certain. I almost teared up the more I thought about it.

  The hope scared me.

  He saw my emotions creeping up on me and smiled, then he turned his green eyes back to the tablet screen. It was a relief to have them focused someplace else.

  “All right,” he said after a few minutes of typing. “Your name is Natalia Grey. You’re a widow from East. Don’t look at me like that, just trust me, it’ll be easier this way. Your husband, a former security guard, was killed while working in the science laboratories of East. Now, you’re applying for a chef’s apprenticeship at the Institution in North. We won’t tell them you’re pregnant. That might flag you during the application process. You can tell them after you’re accepted. The program is a year long, but as I said, they have child care built in. So, after Tym and Sonya have your palm prints reassigned to Natalia, and your new history is uploaded onto Auberge’s databases, we’ll submit your application to the Institution. There’s no reason why they won’t accept you. And I have a buddy on the board, so it won’t be a problem. You can start there as early as next term and be on your way.”

  I felt my heart press against my chest. “Really?”

  Doc beamed so widely his eyes shone. “Really.”

  I didn’t have the words to express my emotions on this. I wanted to cry. I wanted to jump up and down.

  Instead of doing anything, I leaned my back against the kitchen counter and sighed, holding my breath and tears within.

  He watched me. “Would that make you happy? You promise I didn’t push you into this?”

  “No. Not at all. I don’t think so. Honestly, though, being a chef sounds perfect. Anything’s an improvement from before.”

  His face hardened. I could tell he didn’t like whenever I reminded him of that. It was as if he wanted to forget, and I kept bringing it up. Maybe he was right to pretend.

  He put the tablet back on the counter and pointed to the green couch behind him in the living room. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a pile of clothes stacked on the arm of the sofa.

  “Sonya dropped off some new clothes last night,” he said. “They should fit. I hope to hear from Tym this morning. He’ll let us know when he’s ready for us. So we’ll have to lay low until then. You okay with that?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve got some work to do, so you’ll have to keep yourself busy. The tablet for the screen is buried someplace in the couch cushions. Happy hunting. I’m going to start building the history for your new life. Oh, and I really do like your hair like that.” Before I could respond, he picked up his mug and tablet and disappeared into his bedroom. He closed the door but left it open a crack. I assumed so he could keep tabs on what I was doing.

  He left so hurriedly and awkwardly it made me smile.

  Forced to wait and with nothing to do, I took Doc’s suggestion and hunted down the tablet for the screen. After turning it on, the screen filled with blue, then an Auberge news program appeared.

  A woman wearing an Auberge uniform stared at the screen. “—security forces were able to resist the attack. No citizens of Auberge were injured, and Chairman Etienne promises a thorough investigation as to how the Outsiders were able to penetrate the wall. Now with us is Commander Maravilla, to discuss this latest breech. Commander?”

  A dark-skinned man with a shaved head and a sharply pressed uniform filled the screen. “Thank you, Miss Rosewood. As has just been announced, four insurgents from Outside were captured and executed after having breeched the wall in East sector last night around twenty hundred hour. No citizens of Auberge were hurt during the attack, and there was no technology damaged or stolen by the terrorists. Auberge Security urges all citizens to please notify officials immediately if you spot any suspicious activity. Security will spare no expense in finding individuals who had any part in helping the insurgents enter Auberge territory, and those found to have been involved will be dealt with severely and swiftly.”

  The screen then cut back to the female announcer, who hardly blinked. “We should hope so. Thank you, Commander Maravilla. In another announcement, Auberge proclaims the need for several hundred volunteers to report to East sector to participate in an experimental medical treatment, aimed at stopping genetic mutations. Interested citizens are urged to contact their local magistrate immediately for this six-month employment. For more information on the Genesis Project, go to the Auberge home screen and apply.”

  Doc scoffed from behind me. I hadn’t noticed him enter the room.

  “Does that happen often?” I asked.

  His face was red. “All the time. They won’t be happy until we’re all genetically engineered.”

  “No, I mean the terrorists.” I was hopelessly out of the loop. I hadn’t been aware that Auberge was experimenting on citizens, but I was more concerned with the attack from the outside. Had Auberge been at war and I didn’t even know it? “How long have these assaults been happening?”

  “Last few months,” he said. “But I don’t know anyone who’s actually seen an attack. I’m not convinced they’re real.”

  “Not real? Why would Auberge fake attacks from the outs
ide?”

  He shook his head. “To get us ready for war.”

  “War against the outside, why?”

  His gaze drifted to the screen. They were announcing a new housing project in South, aimed at lower-income families. “Auberge is full up,” he said, looking back at me so deeply I lost myself for a moment. “Too many people. Too much garbage. Where else are we going to go? Either way, it’s not good.”

  I snapped off the screen.

  “Anyway,” he said. “I just got a text from Tym. Seems he’s worked through the night. He wants us to stop by so we can give him your new identity plan.”

  “Can’t you just text it to him?”

  He frowned. “Auberge owns the telecommunications.”

  “Ah. Right.”

  Doc indicated the pile of clothes on the couch. “After you get changed, we’ll go.”

  “Okay.” I glanced at the stack. They weren’t new, and appeared wrinkled. “Where does Sonya get these?”

  “Probably off someone’s clothes line, knowing her,” he said. He stepped into the living room and plopped on the couch next to me to put on a pair of battered sneakers. From his tone of voice, I could tell that the origin of my new clothing bothered him.

  “You’re not okay with Sonya stealing?”

  He laced up his shoes, then after putting his feet on the floor, turned to me. He was inches away, on the other side of the sofa, but he seemed too close. “No, I’m not okay with it. I even give her credits to buy brand new clothes, but she...just can’t. It’s an impulse she can’t control. It’s her way of getting them back, I think.”

  “Getting back at who?”

  Doc’s eyes softened. “The world. She’s getting back at the world.”

  “She thinks it’s the world’s fault for her being on the Line?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” I spat, an unexplainable anger creeping up on me. I got to my feet. “The world didn’t take her away from her family, drag her by the arm and sign her away. Some person had to have done that. It’s not the world’s fault. If she wants to be mad, she should be mad at whoever put her in there. The world can’t help that it sucks. It’s people who ruined it.”