Land of Masks and Moonlight (Glimpsing Stars, #2)

by S. K. Falls

  When we have picked up speed, I look over at Trigger. “You’re sure Elara can be trusted?”

  He nods, unfastening the top button of his shirt. “She’s been here long before we have—she was one of the first to emigrate. The New Amanian government trusts her implicitly. She has an uncanny knack for staying one step ahead of them, for sidestepping any landmine. I would trust her plan if I were you, Vika. Just do as she asks and she’ll make sure to keep your family safe.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I look away. I can feel the tension emanating from Shale where he sits beside me, but I keep my gaze on the middle distance, trying not to let fear take a hold of me. Elara has promised us nothing, but she has asked a lot in return. I know we are not in any sort of bargaining position; I have to do as she says, like Trigger advises. But the thought of doing what she’s asked sits like a bitter pill in the back of my throat.

  After about fifteen minutes of silence, the sounds of Trigger snoring begin to rival the sounds of the truck’s engine. Shale sits with his knees up in front of him, his mask held loosely between the long fingers of one of hand. He plays with the silky black ribbon as he speaks. "How do you feel? About what Elara said?"

  "Fine," I answer shortly. "I'm only nine weeks pregnant. This baby is not nearly as important to me as Ceres's safety." Or yours, I think to myself. "I'll take care of it."

  When he looks my way, I feel the weight of his questions pressing into me. "What is it?"

  He shakes his head. "I'm worried about you. The doctor who is to do this—we don't know anything about her. What if she's not careful?"

  I breathe in deeply. "It doesn't matter if she's careful. She's not saving the baby, Shale, she's killing it."

  He flinches, saying quietly, "It isn't the baby's safety I’m concerned about."

  I catch his eye in the near darkness. He holds my gaze, and in that moment it seems possible for us to reclaim what we once shared in that small, spartan apartment in New Amana. My heart races, there’s a sudden swooping in my diaphragm, and I find it hard to breathe. “Shale...” His name is a breath on my lips.

  He surprises me by putting one hand over my mouth. His touch is gentle; barely a touch at all. But it silences me. His face is dark, hidden even though he’s taken off his mask. “Don’t. Please.” His hand falls away.

  I feel the sting of tears behind my eyes, but blink them away rapidly. As if he felt something in the air shift, Trigger awakens and looks at the two of us. “Everything all right?”

  I cannot bring myself to answer.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  We arrange for the abortion to take place the very next night. We agree that after the training session, Shale will come pick me up at my wopung. I insisted that he didn't have to go with me, but he said he had a right to be there, as the baby's father.

  It is strange that he feels this way. In New Amana, fathers aren't emotionally involved with their children. I’d think Shale would choose that route, especially now that we are to get rid of it. But of course, Shale was close to his own father. Perhaps his view of fatherhood was altered by their relationship.

  I struggle through the day’s work and sit through another hour of training that evening, helplessly watching again as Ceres listens carefully to every word the Monitors say. She seems to be drinking it in as a butterfly would nectar; their words nourish her. She sings the song, sometimes trying out a Chinese word or two. The decision I’ve made, to get rid of the baby, is the right one. We need Elara’s help desperately. The other, more privileged compound is our only hope of living here undetected.

  After the supervised social time, I rush Ceres back home. As I clean up in the ice cold water in the washroom, I watch it go over the rounded edge of my stomach, just a small protrusion where before it was flat. I am only a little over two months pregnant, which means the baby is barely a baby at all. It has no recognizable features, no personality...and now no future. It is not a person. I feel no attachment to it.

  I tell myself this repeatedly.

  But why, then, do I feel the smallest constriction of my throat, just a hint of watery heat at my eyes? And suddenly, the realization hits: It is because this baby is the evidence of the closeness Shale and I shared. It is the only evidence I have that that night even happened, that we once held each other close, that we made love when making love was against the law. I think again of the way he put his hand over my mouth, stemmed my words last night. Why doesn’t he want to speak to me? Why has he withdrawn? Doesn’t he miss what we once had, fleeting as it was?

  Once I have donned a fresh gray tunic and pair of pants, I sit on the cot, my hands folded on my thighs, staring at nothing. Ceres sits across from me. Her eyes dart to my face and then away; I feel her gaze as surely as if it were a hand.

  “V-Vikki?” She says finally, her small, thin voice scared.

  I force myself to hold her eyes, though eye contact with her seems especially painful at the moment. Ceres lost a baby in the Asylum, an experience that traumatized her. When she learns of the abortion after it’s done, how will she react? “Yes?”

  “Y-you’re s-sad.” It’s not a question, so I don’t respond. Finally, she continues. “Why?”

  Now is the time to tell her. To come clean about what is going to happen tonight. When I return, I won’t be a would-be mother and she won’t be a would-be aunt. I have to be honest. But I can’t. The words stick in my throat like barbed wire. I’m rescued from having to say anything when a soft tapping sounds. Someone is at the door.

  I walk over to Ceres, ignoring the wary look in her eyes. I pull her into an embrace, swallowing down the tears that threaten to flow again. “Go to bed right after the programming. I won’t be long.” And, in a whisper, I add, “I love you.”

  Then, without another backward glance, I open the door and step into the frigid evening, wrapping my wool jacket tighter around me. Damp tendrils of hair cling to my neck and I shiver. But once the door is closed behind me, it feels like a cement wall has come down. The wire has been tripped; the emotions are gone. This is a choice I’ve made for the people I love, the ones already here.

  Shale looks into my eyes for a long moment. "Are you ready?"

  The soft concern in his voice, the way he looks at me, the way his gaze caresses my middle just for a fleeting second, all of it makes me want to sink to my knees, to let that cement wall crumble. Instead, I clear my throat and nod. Perhaps the reaction is due simply to my hormones, my body fighting to keep the baby intact. A simple evolutionary mechanism.

  The icy breeze presses against us as we walk. We wind our way out of the area of the compound where the lamp posts stand sentry to the iron gate. I sneak glances at Shale, but he seems to be lost in thought and does not notice.

  Finally, I say what has been on my mind ever since our first night in the cellar. "You didn't abandon me." My voice sounds stronger than I feel. "You saved my life by telling me to run."

  Shale's step falters for just a moment, but then he resumes his gait. "It is kind of you to say so. But that was a dangerous mission, and I left you. The end result is the same, no matter what my intentions were."

  I cannot believe he actually thinks this way. In no way have I ever considered that he abandoned us. In fact, the opposite is true—I wondered if running away and leaving him was right. If he would've done something different, more daring. I grip his elbow. "Why do you insist on punishing yourself?"

  But he merely shakes his head, silently, and refuses to say more. I let my hand drop.

  We walk amidst the starlight-kissed landscape in silence. At the iron gate, a Monitor waits with his eyes on the horizon. The wind pulls at his tunic and pants, but he appears to not feel the cold. When he hears our footsteps, he turns toward us. “They say it’s a full moon tomorrow.” His voice is nasal, his words smeared like butter.

  Shale speaks Trigger’s code phrase confidently. “And the stars will be bright.”

  The Monitor nods and opens the gate quickly, just enough
so we can slip out. I hear the quiet click of the lock and then we are on the other side, free to go. It would be so easy to keep walking, to disappear into the wilderness. But I know we’d never survive in the cold. It strikes me just how helpless we humans are even as adults. It occurs to me that if Elara refuses to help us even after the abortion, we will be as good as dead.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  We arrive at what looks like a large shed behind the beige building where we attend our training sessions. It looks deserted, but when Shale knocks, a tall Chinese woman in her fifties answers. Her hair is almost completely silver and pulled back into a loose bun at the crown of her head.

  Shale hands her a bag of something pink—candy glass, I realize. It must be her payment.

  The woman nods toward me. "We finish thirty minutes.” Her words are slow and plodding. “Who pick her up? She need rest."

  "I’ll come for her." Shale turns to me, and I see the burning worry in his eyes. I was expecting a New Amanian doctor, and from his expression I suspect he was, too. He speaks softly. “Are you sure about this?”

  I swallow and stare right into his eyes as I nod. It’s all I can manage; fear coats the back of my throat. My words stick to it like insects in a spider’s web and refuse to come out.

  "Then I’ll be right here. When you're finished, I'll go to the depot and borrow a truck so you won’t have to walk home. I’ve arranged everything."

  I force myself to speak calmly. "Okay. Thank you."

  Shale's eyes pierce mine. "You don’t have to thank me; I want to do this. I'm not leaving you to go through this alone."

  We stare at each other for a moment and then Shale squeezes my hand once, quickly. I cross the threshold and the woman closes the door.

  I look around the room. It is bare, with just a table and some medical implements at which I try not to look too closely. The woman goes to a sink in the corner and begins washing her hands.

  "Are you a doctor?"

  She looks over her shoulder at me. "No speak of our life." Her voice isn't unkind, and she speaks in a soft cadence I find pleasant. "How far your pregnancy?"

  "About nine weeks.” After a moment's hesitation, I ask, "Will it feel pain? The baby?"

  The woman dries her hands on a towel and looks at me. "No." Then she shakes out a piece of candy glass from the baggie. "You take this, no pain for you. Now please take off pants. Lie on table."

  I do as she asks after I put the drug on my tongue and it begins to dissolve. I feel its effects almost immediately. Lying back on the table, I pull the blanket over me. My brain feels as if it's wrapped in a soft cloud of pink cotton.

  "The man you saw outside, he's the father," I tell the woman without even realizing that I was about to say anything.

  "Oh." Her soft voice comes as if from far away.

  My eyes drift closed, and I don't know where she is or what she's doing. I try very hard not to think of those medical tools at the base of the table. I wonder if it will hurt me or the baby in spite of what she's said. I wonder what the baby's doing at this very moment; if it can sense the end coming. If it's crying. No, that's ridiculous. It can't feel emotion at this point. It can't even feel physical pain, according to the woman.

  "He was my Husband," I say again. I can’t stop myself. "No. He...he was more than that. I thought I was in love with him but he doesn’t want to be with me anymore." I gulp. She probably doesn’t even understand what I’m saying. Still, I can’t bring myself to stop. “This baby, it’s the only thing I have to remind myself of what we shared.”

  I feel a hand on my knee through the blanket. My eyes fly open. The woman's face is concerned, peering up at mine. "You sure? You want abortion?"

  "There's no other way." A sob flies from my throat; I hadn't realized I was this upset. But tears have pooled in my ears, I realize suddenly. I must've been lying here crying the whole time. "They deserve every chance. They've all been through so much."

  As I'm speaking, I sit up. "The baby...the baby's been through it all, too. It's...it's survived so far. It's been with me. I can't...I just can’t."

  It is a complete surprise to me. I want to keep the baby.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The woman backs away. Then she helps me sit up and hands me my clothes. I put them on, still sobbing. "I'm sorry.”

  She shakes her head. Then she goes to the door and opens it.

  Shale takes one look at me, crying on the table, and rushes in. "Is she hurt?" I hear him asking.

  The woman shakes her head. "No abortion. She not want." She doesn’t say this with any judgment in her voice and for that I’m grateful, even in my addled state.

  Shale turns to me, his hands hovering so close to my arms he may as well be touching me. But he doesn't; I can feel the heat from his hands, but not the weight. His eyes search my face. "Are you all right?" His voice is soft, deep, comforting.

  I close my eyes. Tears, hot and fast, slip down my cheeks. I'm mortified, but strangely removed from the feeling at the same time, thanks to the candy glass. "I-I'm sorry. I just...I couldn't—"

  "Shh." His hands alight on my skin, warm and calloused. "You don't have to say anything else."

  I can't. His words, so free of judgment, so sure, have me crying even harder. Shale stands with his hands on me, the warmth and weight comforting. I can't even see the woman through my veil of tears.

  Finally, when I am somewhat in control, I slide down from the bed and stumble through the door. Shale's arm snakes around my shoulders and he steadies me. We're outside again, the chill breeze welcome after the heat imbuing my face.

  We begin our walk back.

  "Would you like me to get the truck?" Shale lets his arm drop but keeps it near me, just in case I stumble again. "If you're not up to walking..."

  But I shake my head. Walking will give me time to clear my head, and the air is cleansing. "No, thank you." I look up and drink in the starlight. I don't think I will ever get used to being able to see the night sky so clearly. After a while, I hazard a look at Shale. He's lost in his own thoughts, keeping step with me. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I know this puts us in a bind...all of us."

  He looks at me, and there's no hint of a lie in his eyes. "Don't be sorry. We'll work something out."

  "But the baby...it's going to get bigger. And I'm going to get bigger. It'll be very obvious once the information is leaked. Me, Ceres, you..."

  Shale stops and turns toward me. We haven't gotten to the populated area of the compound yet, so all around us is the hushed whisper of the wind along the plains and in the trees that dot them here and there. There is a big river, the Yangtze, not too far from the compound. If I am very quiet, I imagine I can hear it.

  Without hesitation this time, Shale puts his hands on my upper arms and squeezes. My blood turns warm at his touch, at the light in his eyes. "I didn't want you to do it either. So don't apologize."

  I stare at him, trying to understand what he's saying. He didn't want me to get rid of the pregnancy? "But...why not?"

  He bites the inside of his lips as he stares into my eyes, that light in his burning brighter. "Because it's a token, Vika. Of our connection. Of what we almost had once." My breathing slows even as my heart thunders inside my chest. I'm blinking at Shale and then he's letting go of me, and turning away, looking past me. "I know it's ruined now. It's ruined because I left you, no matter what you think. I was gone when you most needed me. You almost died; I don't know what else you must've had to endure. But this baby...this baby was conceived when my world was bleak. It was something I did right. And...perhaps it's stupid, but I don't want to give it up." He glances at me worriedly. "Though it's completely your choice. I really mean that."

  "I know," I say, my voice hoarse, barely a whisper. Hope rises inside me, thin as steam. "I—I feel the same way about the baby as you." I walk forward slowly and put a hand on his arm, feel the weight and the muscle of it through his wool jacket. "What happened to you? After the attack on the bus
?"

  His muscles tense. He keeps his eyes far away, trained on the silvery darkness of the plains. A soft wind ruffles his hair. It's getting longer, I realize. The ends are curling, and I have the strongest desire to touch them. I resist.

  "I escaped. I was able to gun down the man near the bus’s door and run into the desert. I looked for you, Vika, I swear I did." He steps closer to me, his eyes glittering. "But I suppose I was losing too much blood. I don't remember anything except flashes after that. Ananke nursing me back to health. A tent in the desert."

  I feel a twist of jealousy again, but I ignore it, trying to focus instead on the positive, on the absolute miracle that Shale survived at all. "I'm so glad you got out. I...I thought you were gone forever."

  We stare at each other, Shale's head dipped down toward mine. I wonder, for the first time, if our baby will have his eyes. I hope so. Shale's eyes, though they are the same brown color as mine, are the most beautiful I've ever seen. They speak of his valor, of kindness and strength, of an internal moral compass.

  Then, abruptly, he steps back. His face is closed off, no longer open and vulnerable as it was just moments ago. "We should head home. I need to go to the depot after and tell them we don't need the truck or they'll wonder what's happened."

  My head spins at this sudden change. “Why are you resisting me?” The words slip out without the usual buffer my brain keeps on my mouth, thanks to the candy glass. “Talk with me. We can work this out.”

  But he can’t even bring himself to look at me. “I’m sorry. Every time I look at you, I see my own failure. And I think...I think you can do much better. After all this, when you’re truly free, you’ll find someone else.” I start to argue, but his smooth words cut me off. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  "I'm capable of walking myself," I say, disappointment wrapping its cold fist around my heart. But he walks with me anyway. We are silent the rest of the way back.