The Watch (The Red Series Book 1)

by Amanda Witt

  I nodded.

  “So last week we finally finished it. We’ve got the compound part in place, and I can get into the watchtower easily enough—something’s always malfunctioning up in the Opticon, they’re always calling for me. But the warden won’t ever leave while I’m there.”

  I was shaking my head, moving back toward him. “No, no, no,” I said.

  “Yes, yes, yes. It’s perfect, don’t you see? There’s only one warden up there at night. He always drinks hot milk and whiskey. I can slip one little pill into the bottle of milk, and once he drinks it he won’t know anything else until morning. It’ll work. I know it will work. Rafe knew it would work.”

  There was no point arguing with him. It would only convince him he shouldn’t have told me.

  “So was it the pills all along?” I asked. I was standing directly in front of him now. “Was that what Rafe wanted us to find? Not the circles, not the map itself?”

  Meritt’s eyes went distant, abstract.

  “Both, I think,” he said after a moment, focusing back in on me. “Whatever these other cameras are, they’re significant.” He gestured toward the sketch of Lonna on the wall. “I bet that’s why she died. I bet she found something.”

  “You mean they killed her? Electrocuted her and made it look like an accident?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she tried to check it on her own, and electrocuted herself. In either case, if she knew something, then her getting killed lost us six months.”

  His matter-of-fact tone made me blink. We’d known Lonna; Rafe had loved Lonna; how could Meritt talk about her possible murder in such analytic terms?

  “You sound like you’re talking about chess,” I said. “This isn’t a game, Meritt.”

  He made an exasperated gesture. “I never said it was. I said it was a shame Lonna died before she could tell us what she’d found, and if she were standing here, she’d say the same thing. Stop spoiling for a fight.”

  He’d wrong-footed me, and I wasn’t sure how, and anyway a sudden fit of shivering kept me from answering.

  “You’re soaking wet,” Meritt said, as if he’d only just noticed, which he probably only had.

  “So are you,” I said.

  “I’m not turning blue. Go see if you can find some towels. See if the hot water’s working. You could even take a shower, if you want. It might make you feel better.”

  “Don’t patronize me.” My voice was firm, but I had to fight not to smile back at him when he grinned at me.

  I turned my back on him in an attempt to maintain a non-amused, adult demeanor. Of course the most adult thing, I thought then, would be admit that he was right. There was no point in standing around freezing.

  So I went to the bathroom in search of towels, and once there I couldn’t resist checking the water. It was, in fact, hot.

  The temptation was enormous—I was so cold, and I could so easily imagine the comforting warmth, the tenseness in my neck relaxing, the shivering stopping.

  I stripped off my wet clothes, dropped them on the floor, and ducked under the running water. It wasn’t a particularly safe thing to do—a warden could show up at any moment—but it felt safe enough. I was in Rafe’s house, and Meritt had suggested it.

  So I stood there in the dark, blissfully warm, feeling my shoulders relax, and the muscles in my face, and the tight fist of anxiety in my chest, and I let myself pretend that this was our house, Meritt’s and mine. We lived here in the circle of Rafe’s protection, and we trusted each other, and we were happy.

  And no one would ever tear us apart.

  Chapter 15

  “Red?”

  Meritt’s voice jolted me awake. I’d dozed off standing under the warm water, leaning against the tiled wall.

  “Coming,” I said. I turned off the shower, dried off, and pulled on my clothes. They were still wet and cold, but I felt much better. In fact, I felt triumphant: Meritt had caved. He’d brought me in on his secrets.

  Meritt was sitting at the table, examining the camera by candlelight. “This is high-tech stuff. Way beyond our cameras.” He looked up at me. “It’s another discrepancy to add to Rafe’s list.”

  “Like pencils,” I said, remembering what Farrell Dean had said. “And eyeglasses.”

  Meritt shook his head. “More like our power system.”

  The system ran off of the sea, somehow—no one was quite sure how. Meritt and Farrell Dean had bored me many a time speculating together about how it actually worked.

  ”We don’t know things we should know, given the things we do know,” Meritt went on. “We have peculiar technological gaps.”

  “Is it because of the Guardians? Did they tell the Watchers how to do certain things?”

  “Maybe,” Meritt said, noncommittal, fiddling with the camera.

  “They really do exist. That’s the only explanation for the gap by the Watcher compound being sealed.”

  Meritt gave me an odd look. “Of course they really exist,” he said. Then he gestured at the camera again. “That panel that covered it—it must be motion-sensitive. That would let it stay closed unless there was something to see.”

  “What’s to see in the wasteland? The other cameras, the ones inside the city, those make sense. But who goes to the wasteland?”

  Meritt cocked an eyebrow.

  “I know we go there,” I said. “But who else?”

  “I don’t know. People. Where else is there to go, if you don’t want to be seen by the Watchers?” But he was still fixated on the technology in his hand. “See how tiny it is, compared to the regular cameras? And it seems to be functionally wireless. Must use some sort of radio signal.”

  Hurriedly I put my hand over the glass. “If it doesn’t need wires, does that mean it’s working right now?”

  He pushed my hand away, fiddled with the camera. “I don’t think so,” he said, pulling out a tiny piece. “See this? It’s corroded.”

  He moved the candle closer to the camera, studied it some more.

  “Maybe it wasn’t the Watchers who put these up,” I said, and Meritt looked at me, suddenly wary.

  “Three of the circles are in the Watcher compound,” I said. “Maybe someone’s been watching the Watchers, and watching us when we were in places the Watchers couldn’t see.” I shivered. “It has to be the Guardians. Don’t you think?”

  Meritt shrugged and his eyes slid away from mine, went back to the tiny camera.

  “They might help us, Meritt,” I said, but before I finished speaking he was shaking his head.

  “Even if they hate the Watchers’ guts, it doesn’t mean they’d help us.”

  “What exactly do you think they are?” I wanted him to say they certainly weren’t animal-like creatures with poor drawing skills and a taste for chicken blood—or guttural voices calling my name—but he merely shrugged again.

  “Do you think they’re human?”

  “They do inhuman things,” he said, still looking at the camera.

  “If our technology came from the Guardians, they must be smart. Like we are, I mean, or more than we are. Not like animals.”

  Meritt didn’t answer.

  “Don’t you even have a guess?”

  “Sure.” He glanced up at me. “My guess is they’re flightless birds with the heads of men and tails like lions.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Not funny,” I said. “I’m serious, Meritt. Who are they? What are they? And what if they’re angry that we took their camera?”

  Meritt didn’t seem concerned, at least not about that. “Nobody’s taken care of this device for a long time,” he said. “I’m guessing nobody cares about any of these cameras anymore.” His voice went quiet. “Maybe nobody even remembers they exist.”

  “I wonder how Rafe found them,” I began, but my words were cut off by a sound.

  Someone was trying the door.

  Meritt and I stared at each other. The door rattled again.

  Meritt jumped to his feet and in two st
eps was at the wall, re-hanging the map.

  There was no other exit besides the door—not unless we could get a window open and get away before the warden walked around the house. He was probably doing that already. He’d know someone was here—he’d be calling for backup. They could be coming from all directions.

  We were caught.

  A scene flashed through my mind: Meritt, standing in the center of the city meeting circle.

  “Meritt,” I said. “Hide in the bathroom.”

  “No,” he said, turning to me. “You hide.”

  “You’ve been arrested five times to my one.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t know how to spy on the Watchers from the tower. You do.”

  “Shhh,” he said, ignoring my argument and pulling me by the arm toward the bathroom.

  I yanked my arm free. “I won’t hide. I’ve already seen Rafe die, and I’m not watching the same thing happen to you.”

  For a heartbeat Meritt stared at me, frowning. I could see calculations passing through his mind. Then he bent over me, kissed me on the lips, and was gone. I didn’t even feel it until it was over.

  Hurrying to the door, I unbarred it, opened it just a crack. Please not the warden with the scar, I thought. Please not him.

  “Hello?” I called uncertainly, my heart pounding.

  Out of the darkness a form materialized from around the corner of the house. It came closer, and the beam of a flashlight shone in my face, blinding me. This was it. At the very least I’d be put in prison. Surely, surely they wouldn’t put me in the city meeting—I wasn’t stealing anything, I wasn’t causing discord, it probably wasn’t even past curfew yet, but this was Rafe’s house, the traitor Rafe—

  “Blast it all,” a gruff voice said. “I thought it might be you.”

  It was the bald, bearded warden. Warden Karl.

  Without another word he pushed me into the house and closed the door. His round face was grim and his eyes looked hard and strangely tight, as if he’d looked into a too-bright light and hadn’t yet recovered.

  Judd, I thought, more sure than ever that Warden Karl was his father. What had this man suffered, watching Judd in the city circle that night?

  He glanced around the room, noting the candle burning low on the table, the open books.

  “You want to explain?” he said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest.

  I nodded. “I came to say goodbye.”

  His look became, if possible, even more disapproving. “You think Rafe cared about you?”

  “I know he did.”

  “So you think he’d want you getting in trouble?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, but the warden didn’t wait for one. Instead he began strolling around the room, turning over the books and then moving to the wall, where he studied the sketch of Lonna, then took another few steps and stood in front of the map. His eyes narrowed. Reaching up, he touched a point with the tip of his finger.

  “That’s where we’re standing,” he said. “Right there. And there’s the city circle.”

  It could have been a threat, but I hoped it wasn’t. He was Judd’s father, and I was Judd’s friend, and Petey had saved Judd’s life with his own. We couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t commiserate, but we could look at the circle on the map and hate it.

  I stepped up beside him and peered at the map as if for the first time.

  “There’s my dormitory,” I said, pointing. Hinting. Let me go home.

  The warden turned and faced me. I couldn’t read his expression. His decision might depend on whether he’d found me on his own, or whether the warden in the watchtower had seen something and sent him out to investigate. Whatever happened, as long as he didn’t decide to search the house, Meritt at least would be safe.

  “Here’s how this works,” the warden began. “The warden handcuffs you. He takes you to the prison and sticks you in a cell. He files a report that gets sent to the Watchers. Best case scenario, you don’t see the sun for three months, and various wardens end up in charge of your well-being from one shift to the next. One warden at a time, if you get my drift.”

  Unfortunately I did.

  “That’s the best case scenario. Worst case scenario, you end up in the city circle tomorrow night, or the next day, or the next. That’s what would be happening to you, if most any other warden had walked through that door tonight. That, or else he would have offered you a deal you couldn’t refuse. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  I nodded.

  “I won’t be able to cover for you again,” he continued. “I have obligations. Do you understand?”

  Again I nodded, certain that he was referring to Judd.

  Warden Karl studied me for a long moment, his face unreadable, the skin around his eyes still tight and angry. “I’ll take you back to your dorm now, if you’re finished with your good-byes.”

  A third time I nodded mutely, afraid that a spoken word from me, any word, would break the spell of good fortune.

  Warden Karl turned, and I followed, and neither one of us so much as glanced toward the bathroom as we headed out the door.

  Chapter 16

  All the next day I watched for Farrell Dean, and all day long I was disappointed.

  It was just as well. I wanted to say “I told you so” about Meritt—he definitely was taking me seriously, wasn’t treating me like a child or a pet—and that was sure to rub Farrell Dean wrong, and the last thing I needed to be doing was making things worse between those two.

  As the day wore on, though, I began to get truly worried. Farrell Dean had never stood me up before, had never been late even by a minute. Now he was a full day late, and more. I supposed he could be coping with some huge mechanical issue, but wouldn’t he at least come to meals?

  When blustery Garry started chewing out Felix for taking the best hoe, I didn’t immediately rush to break it up. Instead I took the opportunity to edge close to Ezzie.

  “Have you seen Farrell Dean lately?” I said.

  Ezzie shook his head, his dark eyes worried. “His bunk was empty last night,” he said. “Nobody knows where he is—at least, nobody’s saying. I was hoping you knew something.”

  Mutely I shook my head, and a hard cold fear began to grow in the pit of my stomach. Farrell Dean had tried to interfere when the scarred warden accosted me in the cafeteria. If he was in trouble because of that, if he was in trouble because Marta had stepped in and asked me to look at the lunch truck list, depriving the warden of his prey—

  For all I knew, Marta might be missing, too. For all I knew the scarred warden was punishing everyone who stood between him and me. It was a terrible thought.

  It was better, though, than the alternative. If the Watchers had found out that Farrell Dean was spying on them, there was nothing I or anyone else could do to help him.

  * * * *

  That night they put a plump, elderly nanny mother in the circle center and lined up a whole row of little girls in front of her. They made her call out the children’s names—Nevada, Savannah, Olympia, Denver, Helena, Dakota, Geneva, Florence, Cheyenne. I was afraid the Voice was going to order the wardens to kill the children, but instead he asked the nanny why she had chosen these names.

  “Well, I’ve named so very many children,” the nanny mother began, her brow furrowed with worry. She seemed quite old and fragile, and I knew she wanted to keep the children out of trouble but couldn’t fathom from what direction the trouble might come. Nor could the rest of us. The names meant nothing that I could see—they were just sounds, signifiers, a way to identify the little girls.

  “Sometimes it’s hard to think of new names. These just came to me, and I used them,” she said.

  The Watcher kept asking questions. Had she ever known anyone called by one of these names? Was she sure about that? She made them up herself? No one helped her? Had she ever heard those names before, in another context? Had she read them somewhere?

  The city meetings
were getting increasingly bizarre.

  Pinned in the glare of the spotlight, the nanny mother seemed as baffled as the rest of us. She stuck to her initial answer, but after repeated questions of the same sort finally said, “They came into my head, that’s all, and I thought they sounded pretty, special.” Beside me, Meri sighed heavily; sure enough, the Watcher pounced.

  “Special? You wanted to give these children special names? Pretty names?”

  “Yes,” agreed the nanny mother, though her face turned gray as she realized her mistake. We weren’t supposed to play favorites; we weren’t supposed to treat anyone differently from anyone else.

  The nanny tried to rectify it—or maybe she was only trying to protect the little girls. “They were such very ordinary children,” she said. “I didn’t think special names could hurt them.”

  I thought her answer was clever, but they shot her anyway.

  * * * *

  Meritt materialized beside me as I was making my way out of the circle in the dark.

  “I’m doing it tonight,” he said softly. “You want to come?”

  It was too dark to see his face clearly. “To the watchtower?” I whispered.

  “Yeah. Pill’s already in the bottle of milk.”

  If Warden Karl caught me again, there’d be no talking my way out of it this time, but I couldn’t let Meritt go it alone. “I’ll come,” I said. “When?”

  “Midnight. Don’t forget your cap.”

  “Where should I meet you?”

  “As luck would have it, the camera behind this building will be shorting out just before midnight,” he said, and was gone before I could ask him how he could possibly have managed that.

  * * * *

  That night, I thought I’d never get away. All the girls sat up late discussing the city meeting, except for Cynda and the others who were at work. Everyone else huddled together on creaking bunk beds, trading theories, getting up to check and re-check that the green wire had not been re-attached to the camera. They had more to say about this city meeting than any of the others, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe they were getting used to being terrorized, at least enough that they could think and talk instead of weeping and getting hysterical.