Dead Girl Running (The New Order Book 1)

by Ann M. Noser

  The receptionist scans my microchip and records my Citizen Number. She gestures to the seating area. “Grab a chair, and we’ll be with you shortly.”

  Soon, a curvaceous nurse with long, red hair and a bright smile approaches. “Silvia Wood? Please come with me.”

  I read her white nametag: Jen Pringle.

  As Mom and I follow her down the hall, my mind jumps back and forth between her flowing red hair and that of the pregnant, sobbing teenager I saw outside this building a few weeks ago. How had that girl managed to get pregnant? The New Order always brags about their low unplanned pregnancy rate. How come she didn’t receive the implant?

  I shudder and enter the cool exam room.

  Nurse Pringle hands me a clear plastic cup. “We need to make sure you’re not pregnant before we administer the implant.”

  I try to hand the empty cup back. “I’m not pregnant. Guaranteed.”

  She refuses to take it back. “We have to be sure. Sorry.”

  “Just pee in the cup.” Mom’s loud whisper echoes from the corner where she stands with arms crossed.

  “Fine.” I grab the cup and step into the mini-bathroom offshoot. This is ridiculous. I’ve never even been kissed.

  After waiting ten minutes for the negative results, the nurse carries in a tray with the loaded injector gun. “There will be a little pinch, and this will sting for only a second. Afterward, you’ll feel a bump the size of a rice grain right here.” She points at my upper left arm.

  “I know.” I stare at my feet, biting my tongue to avoid telling her my true thoughts on the subject: I don’t want you injecting things in my body. I want to decide for myself. But that’s not possible.

  The nurse gently rolls up my short sleeve, thoroughly swabs my arm, and positions the implant gun. I hear a clunk, feel a stab of pain, and turn away, sick to my stomach. I don’t want this implant. I don’t want to be like everybody else. Now, this stupid thing is going to stay in my arm until I die when someone like Gus will dig it out and deposit it into a reclaiming canister.

  “All done.” She sets aside the tray and removes her gloves. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”

  This time I don’t hold my tongue. “What was the rush?”

  Her glossy smile is meant to reassure me. “It was requested from higher up.”

  “Why?” I rub my arm. “Did something bad show up in my tests?”

  Jen Pringle checks her computer screen. “No. Your tests were fine.”

  “Good. But I still don’t understand why I had to rush in here so fast.”

  “You’re eighteen,” says the nurse, as if this explains everything.

  “So?” I ignore Mom, who’s moved closer so she can glare at me more effectively.

  Again, the nurse checks her screen. “It says here you’ve been putting in a lot of miles while training for the Race for Citizen Glory… with Liam Harman.”

  “So?” Why is that anyone’s business but my own? My mind flashes back to the previous day. Do they somehow know that I sat on a bed with not one, but two, guys? They can’t be watching that close, can they?

  “We like to take proper precautions,” the nurse says with a polite smile.

  I frown. The New Order needn’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen with Liam, and I’ve probably ruined my chance with Franco. I’ll forever be the girl who tried to kill herself—twice.

  Twenty minutes later, and three blocks away from Family Planning, my mom’s still highly annoyed with me. She hasn’t said a word, but she doesn’t have to. Her flared nostrils inform me she’s disappointed in her only daughter—yet again.

  After another block of angry speed walking, she speaks. “Why do you always have to make everything so difficult? It’s not like any of this is that nurse’s fault. Why did you have to act like she’s working against you?”

  “Anyone who buys into the New Order is working against me,” I mutter so quiet that I’m not sure she can hear. “Why can’t you see that?”

  She frowns. “I guess that includes me, doesn’t it? Maybe you can’t see it, but everything I do is in your best interest.”

  “Everything except those Psych sessions you forced me to attend three days a week for a year.” I’m edgy, my arm itches, and I still feel sick to my stomach.

  Her eyes narrow. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up right now, here in the middle of the street.”

  But my insides are boiling over, and I can’t stop. “No matter what, Dad was always on my side. Why aren’t you?”

  She pales. “Well, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, but I’m all you’ve got. Maybe someday, you’ll learn to appreciate it.”

  Our battle of words has brought us to the side door of Medical Facilities Northwest. I yank out my card to scan it, and Mom grabs my elbow.

  She hisses in my ear. “Say what you want to me, but don’t let the others hear you talk like that. You have no idea how dangerous your words can be.” She lets go and hurries away.

  I stare after her, my arm in the air, the card poised to strike. Is she talking about Dad and the meetings? No, she can’t be. She doesn’t know.

  Or does she?

  scan my work card and descend into the basement, my mind whirling. Mom can’t possibly know about the meetings. We were so careful. She must be talking about something else.

  I pause, halfway down the stairs, remembering a night long ago. The hospital fades away. I grab the railing as the past comes into view.

  A few days before his death, Dad and I hover in the front hallway of our apartment.

  “You’re my girl, right?” He winks. Everything is a game to him.

  “I’ve got your back,” I chirp, excited to be included in Dad’s big secret.

  “Now, you’re old enough to be left alone without getting scared, right?”

  I nod. So very brave. But if I’d known I only had a few days left with him, I would’ve forced Dad to stay with me that night.

  “Your mom will be home in a half hour with the grocery rations.” He gives me a quick hug. “And I’ll be home soon after. Tell her the light burned out in the bathroom… ”

  “And I have a cold coming on.” I cough on cue. “So, I stayed home while you went to get the replacement.”

  He kisses my cheek. “That’s my girl.”

  Back in the gray stairwell, my hand flutters up to touch my cold cheek. There’s nothing left but a memory. Bile rises in my throat when I think about those assholes accusing Dad of causing the fire. That horrible day in the library, my faith in my father faltered for a moment, but, now, I know better. The Suits lied to me to see how I’d react. Dad had only been to two meetings. I still don’t have any idea what the meetings were about, but he couldn’t have been responsible for the clothing mill explosion after only attending twice. I’m sure of it. Plus, Dad would never hurt anyone. He was wary of the New Order, but he’d never use violence or terror to get what he wanted.

  On the other hand, I might not be so passive.

  My mind clears as I race down the rest of the stairs and rush into Mortuary Sciences.

  Gus glances up from the computer screen in his office. “You’re just in time.”

  “For what?” I slip medical scrubs over my T-shirt and join him. Elvis croons in the background. He’s one of Gus’s favorites.

  “For getting out of all the work.” Gus smiles. “I finished filling out the last form five seconds ago. It’s been a slow day, here in the morgue. Nobody wanted to die last night.”

  “So, now what?” I settle into a chair next to him and glance at the screen.

  “Thought you could use a little history lesson.” He stands and grabs his hat. “Can you hold down the fort while I run some errands?”

  “Sure thing,” I reply, already distracted by the article on the screen.

  Prior to the establishment of the New Order, one of the most shameful aspects of an early, unenlightened Old America was the slave trade that degraded human life during the eighteenth and n
ineteenth centuries. Just as the New Order believes in the sanctity and equality of all individuals, the abolitionists at the time formed an Underground Railroad, a secret network of wilderness routes that Southern black slaves used to escape to the Northern free states.

  “Gus, this is fascinating! How come I never heard about this before?” I spin around in the chair, but he’s already gone.

  I keep reading, uninterrupted for another hour. Screen after screen about the travels north, the risks both the slaves and abolitionists took, and the freedom they sought. It all sounds so dangerous, horrible, and exciting.

  But it’s funny that the New Order acts so shocked and superior regarding the slave trade. Dad always said that everybody is a slave here in Panopticus, even those on top who think they’re better than the rest of us.

  An hour later, Gus returns with a fragrant bag of baked goods which momentarily disguises the familiar medicinal smell of the Mortuary.

  I reach out with a smile. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Consider it a bribe.” He chuckles. “I need you to help me with another exciting excursion out to the Incinerator—unless you’re too busy training for that race.”

  “I’ll make it work,” I promise. “Just tell me when.”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Why don’t we ever go during the day?”

  “They only burn at night. Filling the sky with smoke during daylight hours rouses too much protest from the environmentalists.” Gus studies me. “I believe you might know one of the more vocal protestors.”

  I flush as Franco’s outburst at the Incinerator comes to mind. “What do you think about that? Are their objections valid?” I hope this leads to a discussion where Gus will tell me all about Franco’s days as Ben’s intern.

  “I think it’s all for show.” Gus brushes crumbs off his shirt. “Since ninety percent of this country has gone back to the wild, environmentalism isn’t necessary anymore. All this talk about carbon emissions and pollution is insignificant in the current scope of things.”

  “But I thought you and Ben were big environmentalists back in the day. In fact, isn’t that how you met? At some group event planting trees or something?”

  “Oh, yes.” Gus smiles, and I can almost see the memories flash across his bright eyes. “But a person can always change their mind.”

  “You can’t fool me, Gus. You’re an old stick in the mud.”

  “I might surprise you.”

  “Okay.” I grin. “Surprise me, then. What have you changed your mind on recently?”

  He points. “You.”

  “Me?” My breath catches. “How so?”

  Again, he raises his bushy brows. “When I first got your application, I didn’t want you here.”

  “Why?” A stab of pain pierces my chest.

  “I can’t say.” He smiles. “But I was wrong. Now, I couldn’t live without you. I hope you realize that. And, someday, I hope you take this place over.”

  “Really?”

  “But there’s more to the job than you think. I want you to keep your eyes open tonight. I’ve got a lot of things to tell you, some of which you’re not going to like.”

  I can’t wait to find out.

  fter work, I hurry to the gym to meet Liam. The yoga classroom is crowded with students. I glance around to discover Liam in the far corner sitting cross-legged on the bamboo-floor, staring into space. I step up and punch him lightly on the arm.

  “What’s up?” I ask. “You’re in a daze.”

  He rubs his temples with his hands. “Remember last night how I told you I’m doing this race for my family? My mom in particular? Well, after I got home, she started in on me.”

  “What did she say?” I settle on my yoga mat in stacked log pose. “But keep in mind that, no matter what, it can’t be as bad as the argument I had with my mom earlier today.”

  “Moms are trouble.” He laughs then sighs. “Anyway, mine said putting myself out there to get noticed is a bad idea.”

  “Why?” I transition into pigeon pose. Running that far yesterday really made my hips tight.

  He shakes his head. “I’ve no idea. She asked me to drop out.”

  Is this about the birth control? I scramble to a crouching position, yank up his short sleeve, and feel his toned upper left arm for a rice-sized bump. There’s nothing there.

  “I have to go in tomorrow,” he replies, pulling down his sleeve.

  “Is that it?” I frown. “Is that why your mom doesn’t want you near me?”

  His eyebrows jerk up in surprise. “No. I don’t think it has anything to do with you. Why would you ask that? I’m sure this is all Franco’s fault. You know how he likes to talk.”

  I retreat back to my mat, my cheeks flaming. “Mom hauled me into the Family Planning Center this morning for an A.S.A.P. implantation of birth control because I’ve been running with you.”

  Liam’s mouth falls open. “Your mom thinks—”

  “No. It’s worse than that. The New Order has noticed we’ve been spending time together, jumped to conclusions, and ‘they like to take precautions,’ according to the nurse who injected me.”

  “Oh.” Liam shakes his head. “But I thought—”

  “Welcome, everyone.” The yoga instructor beams at the class. “Namaste.”

  “Namaste,” the rest of the class echoes. I’m too busy watching Liam.

  “What were you going to say?” I whisper to him.

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  Oh, but it does.

  After class, I know it’s too late to ask Liam what he was going to say, even though I’m dying to know if it had anything to do with Franco. But it’s probably something completely irrelevant, like what Liam’s having for dinner.

  He offers to walk me home, and I accept. Let the damn New Order think what it wants.

  When we reach the bottom of the gym steps, Liam says, “You know, I used to think yoga was for pansies, but my legs feel better after that class. Do you think that, if I do yoga more often, I won’t cramp up so much after our long runs?”

  I nod. “It definitely should help. And I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

  He smirks. “So, you’re ready to run tomorrow?”

  “I guess that means you haven’t quit on me yet, right?”

  “Right.”

  We merge into the walking lane. It’s so noisy this time of day on the streets. Everybody rushing home for their government-approved, appropriately-sized dinner, guaranteed to avoid obesity and type II diabetes.

  I smile. “I’m glad you’re not quitting, but I can only do a short run tomorrow because I’m working another delivery to the Incinerator.”

  “That’s a bummer. I wanted to get a long run in.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” I turn to him. “Hey, do you remember learning in school that July Fourth used to be a holiday for people back in Old America?”

  “Sure, I remember.”

  “Gus played me a video of a fireworks show today. Work was slow, so he showed me a bunch of things: the Underground Railroad, the fireworks, and a cool operation on an eyeball.”

  Liam cringes. “That’s gross.”

  I laugh as we turn onto my street. “How about we meet at the usual time, and I’ll run however long I can? You can add extra miles afterward, if you want.”

  “No way.” Liam shakes his head. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll do what you do. Franco’s right about you.”

  I flush, hoping Liam will think it’s from the exercise. “What did Franco say about me?”

  Liam chuckles. “He said that if I’m stupid enough to run this race, I should at least be smart enough to keep my mouth shut and follow your lead. Otherwise, I’ll only hurt myself.”

  “Okay, then. Tomorrow, we’ll save time at the end to work some yoga poses. I’ll need to stretch anyway, so I don’t cramp up on the long ride out on the truck.” Too bad Franco couldn’t have said something a little more exciting, but I’ll take
what I can get. At least, now I know he talks about me. Which means I didn’t push him away with all my talk of my suicide attempts. I try to hide my delight.

  “You’ve got it, yoga-girl.” Liam grins. “Whatever you say, I’ll do. I’m officially at your beck and call.”

  “Okay, then. Will you do my laundry?”

  “Heck, no. And you wouldn’t want me to. I’d probably ruin your clothes. I’ve never even done my own.”

  My mouth drops open in mock-surprise. “Are you telling me you’re a momma’s boy, Liam Harman?”

  “I guess so.” He laughs. “That’s what Franco says, anyway. Speaking of him, if you’re driving all the way out to the Incinerator, maybe you could give him a ride back.”

  “What?” My steps falter, and the man behind us almost runs into me.

  “Franco has to stay out there all night because he can’t ride his bike on that road in the dark with all the potholes, and he has some special project going on right now. I’m not going to see him for at least a couple days.”

  I grimace. “I hope he doesn’t see me. He hates what the Incinerator smoke does to his crops, and I’m the one delivering fuel for the fire.”

  Liam laughs. “Well, he’d never yell at you.”

  “Why not?”

  He smiles. “Franco said he ‘thinks very highly’ of you.”

  “What does that mean?” My mind whirls. Is that a compliment? Or just patronizing? “That makes me sound like I’m eighty, or a stuffy librarian, or something.”

  “Go ask Franco what it means. I never know what he’s talking about.”

  “Fine. I will.” Maybe. Maybe not. Guys are so confusing.

  We reach the front door of my apartment. Impulsively, I ask Liam to come upstairs and meet Mom.

  “Tonight?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Well, you do smell better now than most nights after we work out.”

  He shrugs. “Good point.”

  We hike the six flights upstairs. As I put the key into the apartment door, Liam leans close.