by Kyle Andrews
“You're used to having someone tell you where to go and what to do every minute of your life. Nobody here expects you to break that habit right away,” Rose told her before lying back on the bed and saying, “You've been victimized since you were born. Call it being a hostage, or a slave, or however else you want to look at it. Bottom line is, they trained you to be their bitch. When I first got here and realized the scope of what this world is I didn't talk for three days. When I did, I broke down right in the middle of the tomato crops. Sat there crying about how there were tomatoes everywhere and people were looking at me like I was out of my mind.”
“I'm not a big crier.”
“Me neither! I never cry! But it changed me. I didn't care what people thought anymore. I mean, at that point, I knew what the system was. In my brain, I knew. But it wasn't until that moment that I really got what it was.”
“So what you're saying is that I need to let go?”
“Dive in. Just like that. Justin's told me about you. I know you have it in you.”
Libby tensed up and became incredibly uncomfortable. She felt like the floor was falling out from under her and with a sharp tone, she said, “What did he say about me?”
She didn't like the idea of being gossiped about behind her back. This place was supposed to be free from the constant supervision, but Libby was starting to feel like there were cameras watching her, just like on the street and in school. She was starting to feel like every thought she had was being monitored and judged.
“Calm down,” Rose said, sitting up and sensing Libby's shift in mood. “He said you were smart and strong. That you cared about people, even if you pretended not to. He said not to get on your bad side because you could probably kick my ass.”
Libby started to calm down. She didn't even know why she was feeling the things that she felt anymore. It shouldn't have surprised her that people would talk. It was probably harmless chatter. But it was about her, and that didn't sit right with Libby.
“Okay, so you're not one for crying therapy,” Rose concluded. “You're a lasher. You lash out at people. Damn, that's so much cooler than crying. I should have done that.”
There was a knock on the door. Libby looked toward it, expecting someone to walk inside. She waited a few moments before Rose finally said, “Come in.”
Somehow, Libby hadn't thought of that.
Aaron walked into the room. He was the man who ran the Garden. Beyond that, Libby didn't know much about him. He was an intimidating figure, and whenever he walked into the room, Libby felt as though her final judgment was being passed down.
“Rose, I need to talk to Libby,” he said.
“Go for it.”
“Alone.”
“I knew that,” Rose joked, standing up. She turned and waved goodbye to Libby before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.
Once she was gone, Aaron pulled up a metal chair that one of Libby's roommates kept by her bed and he sat in front of Libby. He asked, “How are you adjusting?”
“Apparently, I lash out at people.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” he said. It seemed like it should have been a joke, but his voice didn't drip with the sarcasm that Rose's did. “I'm sorry that we haven't talked very much since you got here. A lot has been going on. Some of it has to do with you.”
“Did you find whatever's in my blood?”
“No,” Aaron told her. “Simply put, we don't have the technology that they were using in the hospital. But it's important that we get this information. It's important that we know why they wanted you so badly. Why Uly had to die. And I think that we're going to need your help to get that information.”
“More blood? I think you might have it all already.”
“No. I'm asking you to go back to the hospital with some of our guys, and do the scan there.”
The request should have been like a smack in the face, but for some reason, Libby wasn't surprised by it. Maybe it was because the logic was sound, or maybe Libby was incapable of being shocked at that point. Either way, she didn't respond at first. She didn't know what to say. All she could picture was Uly in that hospital, being scanned and then finding himself trapped. He didn't make it out of there alive. How could she?
6
Justin and Sim had never exchanged words before that day, as far as Justin could remember. By the time Libby started dating Sim, she and Justin had grown apart. Since Uly never cared for Sim, even group gatherings never happened, so Justin's only exposure to Libby's boyfriend came from the one or two classes that they shared with each other.
“You're Libby's boyfriend, right?” Justin asked, pretending to know less about Sim than he did. Someone once told Justin that playing dumb makes people underestimate you and gives you the advantage in a conversation. He was really good at playing dumb.
“Sim.”
“Right. I think we had a math class together last year.”
“Why are you here?”
Justin looked around the area and then back to Sim before saying, “Why shouldn't I be?”
“You know what I'm talking about. Don't play stupid.”
“I was playing dumb, actually,” Justin shrugged. “Why are you here?”
“I don't have to answer that.”
“Coincidence. Neither do I.”
“Except I have a good reason to be here. I'm trying figure out why my girlfriend hasn't contacted me in a month.”
“And you're hoping to track her down by finding her mother.”
“The last time I saw Libby, she was going to talk to HAND. She was with a friend of mine. Now he's dead and she's missing.”
“Missing?” Justin replied, putting a questioning look on his face. “She met with HAND. They said so on the news.”
“Then maybe they took her after.”
“Who?”
“Hate, dumbass.”
Sim took a step away from Justin, looking back to the door of Amanda's factory and all the people still coming out of it. He said, “I have a theory.”
Justin pretended not to care much one way or the other as he said, “What's your theory?”
“I think you know more than you pretend to.”
A smile came over Justin's lips and quickly faded. He shook his head in disbelief and then he stood up. He started to walk away. All of these moves were carefully considered.
Sim grabbed Justin's shoulder and pushed him into the nearest wall. Justin allowed his anger to show through.
“Tell me what you know,” Sim demanded.
Justin shoved Sim back and looked him right in the eye as he said, “I know that you're crazy if you're planning to fight me.”
“I'm willing to take my chances.”
Shaking his head and chuckling once more, Justin started to walk away. He was hoping that Sim would leave it there and he wouldn't have to cause a scene, but Sim wasn't in the mood to just walk away. He grabbed Justin's arm and tried to shove him against the wall once more. In return, Justin grabbed Sim by the wrist, twisted his arm and shoved him face-first against the wall.
Sim drove his foot as hard as he could into Justin's leg. He was probably hoping to do major damage, but only succeeded in getting Justin to release his grip. Sim then spun around and threw a punch, which Justin blocked with little effort.
They'd been trained for this. Whether they knew it at the time or not, every student with the potential to serve in law enforcement was taught the basics of hand-to-hand combat. The difference was that while Sim was preparing for the latest regional championship, Justin was preparing for war. There was a difference in how he approached a fight. He never assumed that there would be rules.
The two of them could have fought all night, throwing punches and shoving each other into walls. Kicking each other in the face and slamming each other into the ground. Justin wasn't fighting his hardest. The last thing he needed was for HAND to review the street camera footage of a murder scene and see him there.
Justin didn't
know if Sim was fighting his hardest. He fought well, but there were several moments when Justin could have ended the fight once and for all. Maybe Sim was checking to see if he would, but Libby probably would have been upset with him if he killed Sim.
Finally, after going back and forth for several minutes, Justin stood back, put on his best angry face, and took deep breaths as he said, “You know what? I wish I did know more about what was going on. I wish I knew how Uly could look me in the eye every day and lie to my face. Who does that? Who lies so well that nobody ever knows?”
Part of Justin was just having fun with Sim at this point. A smaller part felt bad about it.
Continuing, he said, “I knew Uly Jacobs since I can remember. I thought that I knew everything that there was to know about him. But apparently I was wrong. And now I keep replaying every conversation in my head, over and over again. I keep trying to figure out how I could have missed it. And the thing that pisses me off the most is that I don't even know what I could have done differently.”
Sim wasn't charging toward him anymore. He was listening to what Justin was saying and hopefully he was buying the act. Just for kicks, Justin decided to push things a little bit harder.
“I'm not that foolish now though. I know that there is nobody in this world that I can trust,” he said through his teeth. “So the question I have for you is, what are you doing here, Sim?”
“I told you, I'm looking for Libby.”
Justin nodded and took a step toward Sim, as though he might start fighting again at any moment. He said, “Looking for Libby? HAND says they interviewed her and they don't think anything is wrong. So what are you saying? Are you saying that they're liars? That you don't trust the authorities?”
Sim stepped back and said, “I didn't say that. I said that nobody's seen her since they interviewed her.”
Justin nodded, “And you don't think that maybe HAND would put one of their most high-profile witnesses in hiding?”
“Witness? Witness to what?”
“Exactly, Sim. Witness to what?” Justin balled his fists and narrowed his eyes. “I think it's interesting that you came down here, questioning HAND and looking for Libby. Did you want to shut her up? Is that it? Before she can tell them what she knows about you?”
“She doesn't know anything about me,” Sim replied, sharply. He quickly followed that comment with, “There's nothing to know.”
Justin moved to within inches of Sim and with the coldest tone he could muster said, “I don't believe you.”
Sim pushed Justin back with both hands and replied, “Then I guess it's a good thing you're opinion doesn't matter. I mean, how stupid does someone have to be to not see what's happening right under their nose? Everyone thinks you're a joke. Did you know that?”
“I don't care.”
“I think you do.”
Justin pushed past Sim and started to walk up the sidewalk. Factory workers had stopped coming out of the building and he never saw Amanda among them. If she was, he'd missed her. Either way, there was no point in hanging around there any longer.
He wanted to move on and look somewhere else, but the situation wasn't quite that simple. Regardless of what Justin wanted, Sim had another plan. A few moments after Justin walked away from him, Sim ran to catch up.
Justin stopped walking and turned toward him. He didn't even need to ask what Sim wanted before Sim started to talk.
“You know the craziest part of this whole thing?” Sim said to him. “As messed up as this is, you're probably the one person I can trust right now.”
How this happened, Justin didn't know. What he did know was that he had an interesting opportunity here. Sim believed that Justin was really mad at Uly. How he could use this to his benefit, Justin wasn't sure, but he wanted to play the angle and see where it went.
“I don't trust you,” he told Sim.
“That's why I do trust you.”
“You're not terribly bright.”
“I love her,” Sim said bluntly, completely throwing off Justin's act. His hesitation must have shown through because Sim said, “I need to know what happened to her. Either she's in hiding or she's been taken. I don't know, maybe Libby's dead. But I need to find out. That's why I'm here. Why are you?”
“Not for Libby,” Justin finally offered. Another lie perhaps, on some level. But what he said next was equally true. “Amanda was kind to me. I want to return the favor.”
“Then we're both looking for the same thing right now. If we combine our resources, maybe this will go faster.”
Justin thought about this offer for a moment. There were probably countless ways in which this was a bad idea. Working with the enemy. Risking the chance of slipping up and exposing not only his own secret, but Libby's. But he didn't just walk away, as he probably should have. Instead he asked, “What can you offer me?”
“My father works at the hospital where Amanda was being diagnosed that day. If she...” he stopped, obviously still formulating the idea in his head. “I don't know. If she has a prescription or something like that, maybe I can get access to it. Maybe I can get an address.”
“You think Libby's still with her?”
“It's the only lead I have right now. If Libby's been shipped off somewhere for protection, I'll never find her. But if she's still in town, maybe there's a chance.”
Justin thought about it for another moment before finally giving in and saying, “Check the hospital. I'll go to some of the group homes. If Amanda's not working, she might have been placed in one of them.”
“Meet at the school, a half hour before curfew? Share information?” Sim asked.
“You're awfully trusting.”
“What can you take from me?”
“True enough,” Justin agreed. “But I want to know something before we team up.”
“What?”
“Where were you that day?”
“I don't understand.”
“If you love Libby as much as you say you do, where were you? Why weren't you there for her when we all knew that her mother was going to get bad news?”
Sim looked down, trying to think of his answer. When he finally looked back up at Justin, all he could offer was a remorseful shrug.
Justin accepted the answer with a nod. He offered no other hint of what he was thinking to Sim. Instead, he turned and started to walk up the street again. As he went, he said, “See you at school.”
7
Libby stood in what she assumed was Aaron's office. He had walked her down there, telling her that he wanted to explain something to her. Once she was in the room, he walked out and left her alone, waiting.
The place was a mess. There were papers scattered all over the desk. The carpet was stained. There were no windows. The only picture on the wall was of a bearded man wearing a tall hat. She assumed that he was of some importance, but she didn't really know.
There was also a TV hanging on the wall, displaying a news report. On the screen, a reporter was standing outside of a hospital on the other side of town, holding a microphone in front of her and talking to the camera.
“What began as a sniffle has turned into an all-out epidemic in the city, as hundreds of cases of the flu have been reported in each of the area hospitals,” the reporter said. “As of right now, officials are assuring us that the situation is under control and that there is enough medication to go around. There was a report of one death. An elderly woman named...” she looked down at her notes before saying, “...Regina Young was found dead in her apartment. Neighbors say that Young had been sick for the past week and that she was known to have several preexisting conditions with her heart and lungs, but she was apparently very nervous around doctors and assured her neighbors that she would be fine without treatment. Again, I want to repeat that authorities have told us that this situation is under control and that if your symptoms are severe, you are urged to visit your local hospital for medication. Reporting live in front of Sixth Street Hospital, Jaif Hollister, chann
el two news.”
As the report was ending, the door to the office opened and Aaron walked back into the room. He was carrying a folder full of papers.
“I apologize for making you wait. One of my men was looking over the information and I had to track him down,” Aaron said as he walked to his desk and sat down. He turned off the TV and gestured for Libby to take a seat.
“You trusted me alone in your office?”
Aaron looked at her and then around at all of the papers that were scattered around the room. He then said, “Are you planning to sell our green bean statistics to the government?”
“I probably could have sold them information on who you were distributing your produce through in town,” Libby replied.
“Probably. But I assumed that you were on our team now, since we're not the ones trying to kill you.”
“What would you call sending me into the same hospital where Uly died?”
“I'd call it an act of desperation.”
“I was going to go with 'suicide mission' but I guess yours works too.”
“Believe me when I tell you that if there were any way to avoid this, I would happily take it. You won't be going in there alone, after all.”
“Are you coming?”
“No.”
“That doesn't instill confidence.”
“It shouldn't. You should be scared. I won't lie to you, Libby, this is not a conversation where I'm going to attempt to make this out to be anything less than what it is. You could die.”
“Then why am I doing it?”
“Because we're running out of time,” Aaron told her, opening the folder. He pulled out a short stack of Civvies and threw them on the desk in front of her.
Libby picked up one of the Civvies and looked it over. It had her picture on it, but the name and address were different. Looking back to Aaron, she asked, “Lix Baxter? Sounds like a porn name.”