* * *
An emphatic rap at the door awakens Marcus and me from our blissful respite, melted against each other among the sheets. We drag ourselves from the disheveled sheets, still damp with the sweat that poured from our ravenous bodies, and hastily get dressed.
“Did you hear?” Timber exclaims, marching in with Evie the moment I unlatch the door. Evie dashes off to her bedroom to find her favorite ragdoll. Marcus stands behind me waiting to hear the juicy new gossip.
“Hear what?” I say, my eyebrow raised at a sharp peak. Timber tugs at my sleeve and guides me over to the couch where she sits me down. Why is she insisting that I sit?
“I know you’ve been, well, holed up for the past few days, so you probably don’t know what’s been going on. The shuttle’s been damaged. Plans were stolen. Initially, they were thinking someone broke in to the complex, maybe while you were being attacked. But then they discovered it was an inside job.” Timber’s wide eyes tell me there is something deeper to this story.
My mind recalls the conversation I overheard between Marley and Myra. It seemed pretty serious, but I hadn’t heard anything since. I assumed whatever it was, was taken care of. But the way Timber is staring at me frightens me. Deep down, I know what she is going to say, but I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. My heart begins to climb until it lodges in my throat, suffocating me. Please, don’t say it.
“Pollen, they arrested Glenn.”
Chapter 12
I storm into the main level offices and demand to see Chlamyra Rowan. I need to speak to someone in charge and since she’s the first committee leader I met before we moved to Ceborec, and the one who essentially recruited Marcus and me, she seems like a good choice. There is no single leader or president here at COPS headquarters. The organization doesn’t work like that—never did. There is a committee of high-ranked scientists, like Myra and Marley, military officers, such as General Granby and Sage, and various engineers. And none of them are politicians, which is probably why this place runs so smoothly.
Marley comes out of one of the back offices and gives me a friendly smile.
“Hello, Pollen. What can we do for you?”
“I need to speak to Myra,” I demand.
Marley frowns, “Ms. Rowan is in a meeting at the moment. I can tell her you came by.”
“Where’s Glenn?” I ask, firm and resolute.
“Who?”
“You know who I’m talking about. Glenn Malek. The man you all accused of stealing the plans. Where is he?”
“Pollen, I can’t give you that information,” Marley replies. Her calm, haughty demeanor aggravates me further. I shift my weight side to side, searching myself for some way to reach Glenn.
“Fine, if you can’t give me that information I’ll get it myself.”
I shove Marley aside, knocking her into the side of a desk, where a lamp tips over, and race past her toward the back of the office, to the conference room. As I approach the door, I hear Marley on the intercom calling for assistance. “Too late,” I think to myself.
Looks of shock and distress paint the faces of the eleven men and women in the boardroom, as I burst through the door. The room is quiet and all eyes are on me. Only now, under their scrutinizing gaze, do I realize how stupid and impulsive this was. The red flush of embarrassment no doubt tints my cheeks.
“Can we help you, Ms. McRae?” Myra asks calmly, staying comfortably seated in her ornate mahogany chair.
I look around the room at all the faces staring at me awaiting an answer, and wonder if it’s safe to announce my request or if I should speak with Myra in private.
“I need to speak with Glenn Malek.”
Just as the words leave my mouth two Watchers come charging in. Each grabs one of my arms and they attempt to drag me out of the room against my will. General Granby stands and raises his hand in that elegant manner that he does.
“It’s okay. Let her go.” The Watchers stop and look up, bewildered at Granby. “You’re dismissed.” The Watchers leave as Marley slips into the room and approaches Myra.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I told her you were in a meeting, but she just pushed me aside.”
Myra nods, “It’s okay, Marley. Have a seat.” Marley sits in the empty chair next to Myra. Myra turns and sternly looks at me, “Mr. Mallek has been sent to a secure location to await interrogation. He is not permitted any visitors. I apologize for any complications this causes. Now, if you will excuse us, we have a meeting to finish.”
Defeat. If only I had waited. If only I had spoken to her in private, maybe she could have given me just five minutes with him. That’s all I need, really. My mind is swimming with a swarming concoction of anger, confusion, guilt, fear, and sadness. What will they do to him as punishment? Torture? My mind focuses on his empty eye socket and I shudder. Execution? Surely the COPS aren’t that brutal, I convince myself. Or perhaps they’ll go easy on him and settle for an interminable lifetime of imprisonment.
As I leave, I turn back once more, hoping for some peace of mind, and beg, “What will happen to him?”
“That is yet to be determined, Ms. McRae,” Myra replies.
My walk back to the apartment is a snail’s journey. Hopeless and defeated I don’t want to see anybody. Not even Marcus or Evie. They’ll be there now, waiting for me. Waiting to pummel me with cups of hot tea, soothing music, and anything else that might ease my misery.
I picture Marcus hugging Glenn. “You’re always welcome here.” Only after I betrayed him did Marcus finally open his arms to Glenn. And now, Glenn is accused of betraying us all. A flood of guilt washes over me when I realize deep down I am crying for Glenn. Part of me still loves him deeply. I don’t believe he is responsible for what they say he did. I can’t believe it.
I’ve just begun the lowly walk down the corridor towards my apartment when a placating voice stops me.
“Miss McRae, may I have a word please?” Granby’s gentle tone soothes my aching heart so easily it’s hard to believe he is a hard-as-nails commanding military general.
I turn to face him and he extends his arms to me, holding my arms snugly. “Are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows crinkled with worry.
It takes every ounce of tenacity to hold myself together, as I shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, to keep my voice intact.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Granby reaches into his pocket and retrieves a handkerchief to hand to me. I graciously accept and allow some of my tears to soak into it. I didn’t know people still carried these things.
“I can’t believe he did this,” I say.
Granby stiffens and assumes his military stance. “I spoke with Ms. Rowan and the committee on your behalf.” I gaze up at him, more attentive than ever.
“They agreed to a short visitation, before his sentence is to be carried out.” My eyes light up, before darkening again.
“Sentence?”
“Mr. Malek is to be banished just before we are to go underground for the summer.”
“Banished?” My mind is in a whirlwind and I can’t seem to say anything other than one-word sentences.
“We cannot risk him returning here or to Crimson. He will be blindfolded and taken to an undisclosed location above ground. He will be forced to survive the elements on his own and seek out his own underground shelter.”
Underground. Summer is almost upon us. The events of the past few weeks have distracted me and I’ve completely lost track of time. Glenn will be cast off to roam about the sweltering oven above ground. My mind searches for a way to change Granby’s mind about the sentence, but the more I think about it they are already being unreasonably easy on him. They could have tortured or executed him, but that’s not the kind of people they are. And I know keeping him here, even under guard, is a liability they just can’t afford. At least he’ll be alive.
“Thank you, sir,” I murmur quietly. “When may I see him?”
“One week from today. Meet me on the ma
in floor at eight and I will escort you,” says Granby. I nod and return my dispirited shuffle back to my apartment.
* * *
My mind swims in and out of disturbing and threatening thoughts as I follow Granby down the winding corridors and staircases. Glenn is being held in a remote corner of the facility, previously unused since there were no criminals here. But now, he rests down there alone, guarded day and night. I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know what I am going to say to him. Is he really a Crimson spy? Was he framed? Did he use me to gain access to the facility?
Initially I was in denial. I didn’t want to think Glenn would do those things. Convinced he had changed, I welcomed him back into my life. But now that I’d had a week to let it all sink in, it makes more sense. Of course he was a spy. He’s the same conniving, sweet-talking Glenn he’s always been. What a fool I was. I should have trusted Marcus; he was right all along.
My gut twists and turns in knots as we near the room where Glenn is being held. My heart is on a trampoline, reaching into my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe. My palms are sweaty and I’m constantly wiping them on the sides of my black leggings.
Ahead I see two Watchers standing guard and I know that we’ve reached our destination. My fingers begin to tremble, sending shivers up my arms. I’ve got to hold it together. The two Watchers step aside silently when they see Granby approach. He gives them a brief nod and unlocks the door with a silver key attached to a large key ring with at least fifty different keys attached.
“Miss McRae,” he says, opening the door for me.
“Thank you,” I whisper under my breath. He looks down at me with sorrowful eyes and it rips my heart to shreds. I can’t cry now. I won’t cry.
Stepping inside the room feels like I am back at Crimson. Cold, windowless, white walls surround a nearly empty room. Glenn sits in the center of the room, cuffed by his wrists and ankles to a cushioned armchair. He’s nodded off. His head hangs lazily over his left shoulder and his full, pouty lips are slightly parted.
Seeing him here, being this close to him, transports me back to that regretful day in Granby’s office. Ire floods my veins. Was that part of his master plan? To get me drunk and take advantage of me? Maybe he even planned the attack; hired some pathetic bounty hunter to carry it out, leaving him to rescue me. The idea sickens me.
The slap that jolts Glenn from his slumber stings my palm with a thousand razor sharp needles.
“Argh!” he groans. Glenn shakes his head, trying to work out where he is and what just happened. My hand left a rosy imprint on his left cheek—a perfect target for the tight-knuckled fist that follows. His head jerks back as I try to shake the pain out of my hand.
“Pollen?” Glenn says, dazed. I glare at him with narrowed eyes and his own eye widens.
“I hate you.”
“Pollen, please tell me you don’t believe them. That I did what they say I did.”
I pace the floor like a tiger eying its prey. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I growl, my voice flat and breathy.
“I didn’t do it. You have to believe me,” Glenn pleads, begging me with his sharp green-flecked copper eye.
“You’ve betrayed me before, Glenn. I didn’t want to believe then either! How could you? Was this all a ploy? Using my trust to gain access to the facility? And I suppose getting back into my pants was just an added benefit, hmm?” I stand there glowering at him, arms crossed, body rigid with tension. My skin is flushed scarlet and my body feels explosive. Glenn looks down at the floor, devastated, shaking his head.
“Pollen, you know I didn’t mean—”
“No, I don’t know!” I shout back at him releasing a smidgen of the tension that has built up inside me. “I don’t know anything about you anymore, Glenn. I risked myself, put myself out there for you. Because you made me believe you’d changed.”
“I have changed, Polly. You have no idea,” he mutters. An almost indiscernible tear streaks the side of his face. Even his eye patch has a stain of moisture seeping through. For a brief moment my heart flutters and I want to run to him and wipe the tear away. No. I must stand my ground. Glenn is a conspirator, conniving and evil to the core.
I kneel down in front of Glenn, hardening my stare, shooting icy daggers into his soul. “You will never change, Glenn. I know that now.” I want to sink my claws into his face so badly, my hand quivers. But gazing into his eye, my reflection staring back at me through his pupil, I still see the boy I fell in love with all those years ago and I can’t bring myself to do it. I feel the tears pushing against the dam behind my eyes and my bottom lip quivers. I have to get out before the floodgates burst open. I withdraw from him and look to the door for my escape, inhaling sharply to stifle the sob. As I reach out and turn the handle, Glenn interrupts sharply, “Pollen I need to tell you something. It’s really important.” He emphasizes the last three words with a staccato articulation.
“I don’t care. I’m done here,” I say, my voice breaking up as I choke back tears. As I open the door, the Watchers enter the room, followed by Granby.
“It’s about your brother!” Glenn shouts, craning his head around the men to get a glimpse of me. My head whips back around just before the door slams shut. What? What could he possibly have to tell me about my brother? He died a year ago. No. This is just another attempt to win me back. I can’t let him take over my emotions. Muffled sounds filter through the door from the room and I hear Glenn’s voice once more.
“Drake’s not dead!”
Chapter 13
I feel like I’ve just been slugged in the gut. My stomach clenches. My breath shortens. Drake’s not dead? This can’t be true. Can it? Two different voices are battling it out in my head as I attempt to come to grips with the words Glenn just spoke.
I reach for the doorknob and twist, but it’s locked. Pressing my ear against the cold steel door, I hear General Granby speaking in his harsh military modulation, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. A minute later, the door opens.
I stand back to allow Granby through and stare as the Watchers drag Glenn out, gagged, blindfolded, his wrists and ankles shackled. I follow nervously, lagging behind, as they escort him down the hall, then they vanish down another corridor.
My mind has simply shut down. The sheer stress of all of this information I’ve had to process lately has just become too much. I return to my apartment where Marcus awaits my return and curl up in the bed for three more days.
* * *
“I’d expected you to arrive on time your first day back from your little vacation,” Lana snaps at me, arms crossed, tapping her toe.
She’s lucky to have me at all today. I feel so run down and exhausted despite all the rest I’ve had. But I had to come in to work. I’ve missed too much already, and Evie’s been missing her friends. If there were any other way around it I’d avoid Lana for another week. But I suppose I’d have to come back and face her eventually.
“I’m glad to be back,” I sigh, giving Evie a brief smile across the room.
Lana shoves a stack of coloring pages in my hands. “I need you to make copies of these. When you’re finished, you’re on potty duty. I’ve got to adjust the plans for tomorrow.”
Tomorrow we go down south. Underground, that is. The entire facility has been on eggshells about this event. It’s the first summer since the virus was released that we will be underground. In the past we’ve been accustomed to traveling via the Web, the underground circuit of tunnels that mimics the roads above ground. But with the remaining population of local survivors centered at either Crimson or Ceborec, the Web will be as empty and void as in the dead of winter. I’m worried that our restriction from the Web and the inability to go above ground will result in cabin fever.
I enter Lana’s drab office and set the pages down on the copier. Her office is no bigger than a bathroom stall, but she insists on filling her desk with all sorts of useless junk: figurines, coffee mugs, small toys. I’m sure this
all has some sentimental value to her; but really, does she need this much crap on her tiny desk?
I slide the pages into the paper feeder and press start. While the copies are printing I pick up a figurine of a little dark haired girl from the desk and study it. It looks like cheap, imported porcelain, and crudely painted, like something you’d buy at a dollar store. On the bottom, in tiny handwriting, is “To Mommy, Love Rainn.”
“Put. That. Down.” Lana stands in the doorway scowling at me. My eyes soften. I didn’t realize she was a mother. I’ve always seen her alone. Her daughter must have succumbed to the virus. That would explain her testy attitude.
I gently return the figurine to her desk. “Sorry, Lana. I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
Lana’s lip quivers, but the scowl remains. “I asked you to make copies. Don’t touch my desk. The children are ready for the bathroom.” Lana turns away and raises her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. It seems I just found Lana’s weakness. As tempting as it may be, given the way she treats me, I decide not to exploit it. Not yet anyway.
Lana sits in her office while I organize the six children into a line outside the preschool bathroom. One at a time, I guide each child in, standing just outside the ajar door in case they need assistance. Fortunately most of the kids are potty-trained, but accidents happen often and practically all of them need some wiping assistance.
Beau is the first to use the bathroom and he is in and out in virtually no time.
“Wash your hands Beau.” He grins at me. “With soap,” I order.
Alyssa is next. She takes several minutes, indicating that she needs help. Holding my breath I slip inside and help her finish. Lana always makes me do the dirty jobs.
Waiting outside the bathroom door, I can smell Lana’s breakfast all the way from across the room: an omelet with onions and mushrooms. Her breakfasts are usually not this pungent. I must be overly sensitive to the smell this morning. I didn’t eat breakfast myself because I haven’t had much of an appetite since seeing Glenn. But my stomach begins to do somersaults and my throat tightens as I stand here inhaling that awful odor. Maybe I’m really not well.
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