Blood Rights (Freedom/Hate Series, Book 2)

by Kyle Andrews

  “That about sums it up,” Libby tried to joke, but it didn't seem funny.

  “I'm sure it's perfectly normal,” Justin said. “I'm also pretty sure that he knows.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He tried to think of some good reasons why you'd be at the hospital. Kidnapped. Brainwashed. But he didn't believe them.” Justin got off of the bed and looked as though he wanted to walk somewhere, but there wasn't much space in the room. He just stood there and said, “He looked like crap.”

  “Is he sick?”

  Justin shook his head and told her, “He loves you. And if you are what he knows you are, it goes against everything he's been raised to believe. How does a person justify loving someone they're supposed to hate? Where does he stand when the dust settles and all that's left is you and him?”

  Libby was the one who wanted to pace now, but she didn't. She got as far as the TV and ran her hand along its shiny black frame, thinking about Sim, and their whole situation. She knew how badly he wanted to be a HAND officer when he was assigned. He was loyal to the system. Was he as loyal to her?

  “Do you think he'd ever give up that life?” she asked Justin.

  There was a long pause. Justin didn't know Sim nearly as well as Libby did, so there was no way for him to know or feel anything meaningful about Sim, the way she did. Deep down, Libby didn't know what Sim would do, and that might have been her answer.. If there was a doubt in her mind, there could be a doubt in his. If there was a doubt in his, why would he sacrifice everything?

  “Love is something...” Justin told her, finally breaking that silence between them. It sounded like there was more that he was going to say after that, but he stopped himself and looked toward the door.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked her.

  Libby shook her head, staring at Justin and wondering what he was going to say before he changed his mind.

  Then he said, “I'll go find some food.”

  He smiled halfheartedly, glanced back at Amanda, and walked out of the room.

  Libby was left to wonder if Sim would still love her when everything was in the open and there were no more secrets between them. No matter how many times she asked that question, she could never think of an answer. How could she possibly know?

  She took a deep breath and slumped down into the chair beside Amanda's bed. Her eyes went to Amanda's and she watched them, waiting for them to open. She wanted to talk with her mother. She wanted to tell Amanda about everything that had happened over the past month, and let her know that she would finally have the treatment that she needed. She wanted to ask Amanda about Sim. She wanted a chance to see her mother and talk to her without the haze and distance that had always been between them in the past. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have family, now that she accepted the idea of family. She wanted a lot of things that she had no control over. Things that would probably break her heart in the end. But Amanda's eyes didn't open.

  Libby looked toward the door and waited for Justin to return with food. At least there was one thing in the world that she could depend on.

  38

  There was meat in the Garden. Though it had a reputation for being all fruit and vegetables, there was quite a variety of food available, if you knew your way around.

  Down in what was once the basement of the hospital, where water heaters, electrical boxes, and other incredibly important looking pieces of machinery were located, there were now food stations, set up by all sorts of people, using all sorts of ingredients.

  The place smelled like chaos. Justin could think of no better word to describe the clashing scents of meats and spices. If you walked around long enough, you'd pass by a Chinese station, a Polish station, an Italian station, and a wide variety of barbecue stations.

  Where the meat came from was a mystery to Justin. Odds were, there was some back channel that these vendors could use, trading goods from the Garden for meats and eggs. Were there underground cattle ranches somewhere in the city? Or did the vendors know a guy who worked in central food distribution, which supplied markets around the city? Who knew?

  He could theorize all he wanted, but he never dared to ask questions. Asking questions about secret channels and black market trading in a group like this would be considered bad manners on a good day. On a bad day, it could cause people to suspect a man of working for HAND and feeding them information about Freedom's inner workings.

  Each person in the Garden did what they did. Cook or doctor, it didn't matter. You didn't ask where medication or X-ray machines came from. You didn't ask where veal came from. If you were an animal lover, you really didn't ask where veal came from.

  Why they chose to set up the food court in the basement was less of a mystery. It started with one man, a long time ago. He lived in the Garden, working as a janitor or something like that, just to earn his keep. But what he really wanted to do was cook. He loved food, and like most people, he dreamed about eating better food. It was a goal that was completely unattainable for him, until he joined the Garden.

  That man knew a guy who could get his hands on some beef here and some pork there, so he struck a deal with that man and started cooking himself dinners, using herbs and vegetables from the Garden.

  Smells spread faster than rumors in a small space, so people started to ask questions. Friends pushed for invitations to dinner, and the man eventually saw the chance to do something that nobody else was doing in Freedom. He could free their stomachs the way others had freed their minds. He would need a larger space and larger orders of supplies, but it could work.

  When the man requested space, he was denied at first. But he pushed and pushed, and eventually the leader of the Garden at the time relented. He offered the man a corner, hidden away in an area which wasn't being used much anyway. What could it hurt, right?

  From there, the industry blossomed as surely as the flowers. People didn't want to merely survive. They wanted to explore what the world had to offer. Good food was an act of liberation. It was a symbol, as far as Justin was concerned. The story inspired him, and he remembered it every time he walked through the food court.

  Granted, that wasn't very often. In order to get the good food, you needed something to trade for it, and he rarely had anything to trade. But this was a special occasion. He wanted to give Libby a taste of freedom and help ease her mind a little bit. The question was, what should her first taste be? Food selection had never really been an option for her in the past, so he tried to imagine what she would choose if given the chance.

  Slow-cooked ribs, falling off the bone and dripping with barbecue sauce, served with coleslaw and cornbread? Crispy sesame chicken, with fried rice and pork lo mein? Perogis? Waffles, dripping with butter and syrup?

  Trying to choose what Libby would choose was pointless. She had no idea what most of this stuff tasted like, unless she'd been given a frozen version of it at some point. If that was the case, she'd probably associate the food with the taste of burnt plastic.

  No, Justin had to take a different approach to this. He had to imagine what he would want to eat if he'd never tasted food before, or what he would want if he would never eat again.

  At that point, the answer was simple. He moved down to the station where Joe Linney was grilling up hamburgers, and ordered the biggest, sloppiest burgers that he could think of. Bacon, cheese, onions, tomato, lettuce, with seasonings and sauces, all served on a crusty kaiser roll. Crispy fries on the side.

  He normally wouldn't splurge. He hated haggling or being in debt to someone. It felt too much like begging to him, but this time was different. This time, he was excited. Freedom was spreading. Amanda was safe with Libby. It was a good day, and that was rare.

  Justin didn't have much to trade in exchange for food. Every so often, he would get something on his official shopping list that one of the cooks might be able to use, and he could get a small meal from that. Today, he didn't have anything of true value. So when it came time to barter, he ask
ed Joe if he could pay with labor. He was willing to work for two weeks, cleaning pans and clearing tables for that one meal, but Joe didn't agree.

  Justin offered a month of service for the meal. Again Joe refused. Justin tried to think of something he owned that would be worth a meal, but there was nothing.

  Joe smiled. He was a large man, with a booming voice. Yet he was about as intimidating as a stuffed animal. He enjoyed the game of negotiation when it came to how people paid for his food, and every one of them must have offered to work for their dinner. Joe liked originality.

  “Who's the other burger for?” Joe asked.

  “A friend?”

  “A girlfriend?”

  “Just a friend,” Justin replied, but something in his eyes must have given Joe the impression that there was more to the story.

  “What's her name?” Joe asked.

  “It doesn't matter.”

  “Seems like it might.”

  Joe knew Justin. He knew that Justin was a quiet person who didn't like to go on and on about his life. Each time Justin went down there with Uly and Marti, Joe would ask Justin where his date was, and Justin would tell him that there was no date. He didn't date. Joe would laugh and tell Justin that he could tell that there was someone on the boy's mind. He would try to press for answers, but Justin had none. There was nobody to talk about.

  “Is it Marti?” Joe asked, causing Justin to cringe.

  “She's Uly's girlfriend,” he told Joe.

  “That's never stopped anyone before.”

  “It's not Marti. It's not anyone.”

  “Then give me a name.”

  “There's no name to give.”

  Joe's smile grew wider and he said, “The price for your meal is the name of your friend.”

  That was it? Seriously? Obviously, there was no problem with telling Joe the name of the friend. Except, Justin was hesitating. Somehow, naming Libby felt like it would play into the idea that Joe had had for years, about a secret love in Justin's life. It felt like he'd be admitting something.

  Except there was nothing to admit. Why should he have a problem telling Joe anything? So, he nodded and said, “My friend's name is Libby. Libby Jacobs.”

  “Jacobs?”

  “Uly's cousin.”

  Joe's eyes widened and he nodded knowingly, as though all of his questions about Justin had been answered.

  “She's just a friend,” Justin said once again.

  “Boys like you don't have girls who are just friends.”

  “Apparently we do.”

  “Is she the one with the blood?”

  Justin hesitated again, hating to play into this growing celebrity status for Libby. Finally, he nodded.

  “I'll add onion rings,” Joe grinned.

  Joe walked off, to start cooking up Justin's order. While he waited, Justin took a seat at one of the nearby tables, next to a cluster of pipes that were twisting every which way. He was sure that they went somewhere important, but he had no desire to know what ran through those pipes that were so close to the food vendors.

  Not too far away, Justin saw Aaron sitting alone at a table. There was a plate of pasta in front of him, and he was picking at it as he sorted through papers. He looked deeply involved in his work. Justin couldn't help but wonder what was written on those papers. The Garden had been buzzing with rumors about missions to spread their documents, or recover new ones from Libby's blood.

  Whatever he was planning, Justin hoped that it didn't involve sending Libby back out into the world, where she could be captured and killed. Or worse.

  Without looking up at Justin, Aaron motioned for him to come over to his table. At first, Justin wasn't sure that Aaron was gesturing to him. They'd spoken, sure, but Justin wasn't anyone special. It wasn't like they ordinarily ate dinner together, exchanging childhood memories while drinking hot carob.

  As he stood and started to walk over to Aaron's table, Justin knew that Aaron would be asking questions about Libby and Amanda. The real question was whether those questions were going to be normal, friendly inquiries, or if he was going to be grilling Justin for information about a valuable asset that could be used to manipulate Libby later.

  He didn't like thinking of Aaron, or any other member of Freedom, in those terms, but the truth was that they had a battle to fight, and they would want that battle to go as smoothly as possible. Libby hadn't come into Freedom in the traditional way, so they had to keep an eye on her.

  Still, Justin wasn't going to be their inside man.

  “How's Libby's mother doing?” Aaron asked as Justin got close to his table.

  “She looks better, but I don't know if that means anything. She still hasn't woken up.”

  “I meant to swing by and see if Libby needed anything earlier, but I haven't had a chance. I take it you're bringing dinner to her?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Tell Joe that I said to give you a break on the bill.”

  “It's already paid.”

  Aaron smiled and said, “One of those.”

  He finally looked up from his papers, at Justin. Justin threw a smile on his face, just to seem polite. He still didn't know why Aaron wanted to speak with him.

  “You look like I'm about to kill your dog,” Aaron told him. “Relax. I'm just making conversation.”

  Aaron took a bite of his pasta and a sip of water to wash it down. He glanced down at the papers in front of him, and then looked back to Justin.

  “Before I was in charge, I could strike up conversations with anyone and nobody thought twice about it. Now they all think it's official business. Truth is, I just need a break.”

  “I imagine it's been a busy day.”

  “To put it mildly. I wasn't expecting people to go plastering those documents all over town. I thought we'd organize a little. Plan.”

  “Seems like whoever did it lit a pretty good fire.”

  “The problem with fires is that they tend to get out of control. Next thing you know, you burned down your entire house.”

  “So now you're doing damage control?”

  “Now I'm trying to figure out how to make the fire burn the things we want it to burn.”

  “I'm guessing that HAND won't be thrilled with us right now.”

  “Doubtful. But now that we released those bits and pieces, they might think that we have the whole library.”

  “So they might pull some of their officers out of the hospitals, which means we might be able to slip in and get a scanner,” Justin nodded, putting pieces of the puzzle together in his head.

  Aaron acknowledged the plan by saying, “Simon is trying to figure out how to disable the tracking chips.”

  Justin nodded again. It sounded like there was a lot going on. It seemed like Freedom might actually make some progress, instead of hiding in the shadows. Collin Powers might have been right after all. It started with an idea.

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” Justin asked.

  Aaron seemed amused by Justin's straightforwardness. He took another bite of his food and swallowed before asking, “Are you on the chess club?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You seem like you're always thinking and planning ahead.”

  “I don't mean to.”

  “It's a good thing. Never let your guard down,” Aaron assured him. “I'm telling you because you're a part of it. You brought her in here when some of us had doubts about her. You want to protect her, and I want you to protect her. We're on the same page here, Justin. I just wanted to let you know that, so you don't go running off to do something on your own.”

  “I won't.”

  Aaron accepted Justin's response without question, but Justin got the strange sense that there was more to their conversation. Like, maybe it wasn't Libby that Aaron was trying to get a handle on; it was him.

  “I didn't get into Freedom until I was twenty,” Aaron said, after a pause in the conversation. “Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be your age, still in sc
hool. Interacting with normal people and teachers while carrying this secret with you. It has to be hard.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “I guess you'd have no choice,” Aaron agreed. “But do you ever wonder if people suspect the truth?”

  “No.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “If someone suspected the truth, I'd be dead by now.”

  Aaron smiled. It didn't seem like he found the answer humorous, necessarily. It was more like he'd been expecting the answer and was amused by his ability to predict what Justin would say.

  “I should probably check on my food,” Justin told Aaron.

  “Yeah. I wouldn't want to keep you. Thanks for getting my mind off of work for a little while.”

  “No problem, sir.”

  Justin got up and walked back to Joe's counter, where Joe was just placing Justin's food into a bag. Joe looked from Justin, to Aaron and back before saying, “You're hanging out with all the big fish, aren't you?”

  “I network.”

  Joe laughed and slid the bag across the counter to Justin. He said, “I put some of Mary's ketchup in there for you. The kind with a little spice. Tell that girlfriend of yours that I'd like to meet her sometime.”

  Justin didn't argue with Joe over the use of the word 'girlfriend' this time. He simply took the food and walked away.

  As he passed Aaron's table, Aaron didn't look up from his work, but he did say, “Give Libby my best.”

  “I will, sir.” Justin replied. “Thanks.”

  39

  The TV was still on in Amanda's room, but Libby wasn't watching and the sound was turned all the way down. Having the TV on was comforting. It reminded her that the world existed beyond the walls of that hospital room, but Libby had no desire to hear what was being said. She didn't need a reminder of how ugly the world beyond those walls really was.

  Justin had been gone for nearly half an hour, and Libby was back to sitting in that room by herself, just as she had been all day. The place was probably nicer than most of the apartments in the city. Amanda had no roommates, so Libby didn't have to worry about strangers coming in and out of the room, staring at the girl with the library inside of her. All things considered, there were far worse places for her to be sitting, but she hated being alone with her thoughts.