The Outsiders

by L. J. LaBarthe

"Fine. I still want to have words."

  They had reached the Concourse now and made a beeline for the stairs that led to the residential area where their apartments were.

  "Do you two want to come to my place?" Matty asked.

  "Sure." Nisha nodded. "There's nothing at my place except a vintage radio."

  "It is the same at mine," Arkady said. "And a few books."

  "And we start work day after tomorrow, too," Matty noted. "That's going to complicate our free time to do things."

  "We'll figure it out," Nisha said. "It's what we're good at."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Once inside his apartment, Matty made sure the door was locked. He dropped his backpack carelessly on the sofa and went to the book case and began to examine it closely.

  "Are you looking for listening devices?" Nisha asked.

  "Yes." Matty grunted as he pulled the piece of furniture out from the wall and began to examine the back of it. "I hate being spied on."

  "Ironic, really," Arkady said. "Equally ironic that we're talking about this out loud."

  "We'll help you," Nisha added quickly. She shot a look at Arkady. "We're out of practice, clearly."

  Matty grunted his thanks as he got down onto his knees and felt around the edges of the base of the shelf. Nothing was there, and he turned his attention to the wall, running the tips of his fingers carefully along it, feeling for anything abnormal. That turned up nothing, so he shifted back into the living room and pushed the bookshelf back. He turned to the shortwave radio.

  He'd wondered about that since he'd been given this place to live in. He took the radio down from the shelf and went to sit on the sofa. He turned the device over in his hands, looking at it carefully. He reached over for his backpack, pulling it to him. He dug around for the butter knife and pulled it out. Once again, he used it as a screwdriver, removing the casing of the radio with care and setting it down on the coffee table.

  He could hear Nisha in the kitchen, going through the cupboards and examining everything in them, and Arkady in the bathroom. Matty's gut told him that the radio was the key. With the case off, it looked like something he'd seen in his grandfather's workshop, a relic of a forgotten time, of a dying hobby, something that few would ever think to use on a daily basis. Carefully, he began to examine the transistors, valves and the circuit boards, holding the radio up to the light to see better.

  There was no listening or recording devices inside it, yet there was something else. Matty squinted as he stared into the body of the machine, wondering what he was looking at. He picked up the butter knife again and carefully inserted it into the slots between circuit boards, jiggling it around, being sure not to damage any part of it. He gave the radio a light shake and a folded envelope slipped out of it to land on the floor.

  Matty put the radio to one side on the sofa and bent to retrieve the envelope. Inside it was a letter. It was short and to the point.

  "If you find this, you know what I know. This place isn't what it seems. You need to leave as soon as you can. Go outside—the air won't kill you. The bosses control us but they're being controlled by someone else. I'm leaving tonight. If you find this, you'll know I'm gone. The world above is beautiful. Get out while you still can. There are people watching everyone do everything down here."

  Matty read and reread the letter. He set it down and picked up the radio again, put it back together and returned it to its place on the bookshelf.

  "Anything?" he called out to his friends.

  "Nothing in the bathroom," Arkady reported, entering the living room. "Did you wish—what is that?"

  "Just a moment. Nisha?"

  She came into the living room. "All clean in the kitchen."

  "I found something. Read it while I check out the bedroom." Matty handed her the note and envelope then stood and went into his bedroom to hunt for any listening or recording devices in there.

  He checked the furniture, tapped the floors carefully, finally climbing up to tap the ceiling. All was clean as far as he could tell, and he figured that if they kept their voices down, it would be enough. He returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa and looked at his two friends.

  "Clean?" Arkady asked.

  "Yep. What do you think of that note?"

  "It makes me more determined to get out," Nisha said.

  "Same here." Matty sighed. "Paul's not going to be happy."

  "If I may… don't tell him." Arkady tapped his left index finger on the coffee table. "I don't know why I say this. It is… a gut feeling."

  Matty shrugged. "Fine by me."

  "I'm all for gut feelings," Nisha said.

  A solid knock came upon the door and Nisha got up to answer it. Arkady tucked the note into an inner pocket in his coat, and Matty stretched out, allowing himself to relax after what had been a tiring and stressful day.

  It was Paul, of course, Matty hadn't expected anyone else, though he realized that he wouldn't have been surprised to see Linda on the threshold, either. Paul strode into the living room and sat down on the floor, leaning back against the small cabinet that held the large radio. His expression was grim, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. Nisha closed the front door behind him and locked it, and Matty regarded Paul with interest, wondering what he'd say and how he would rationalize what they'd witnessed that afternoon.

  "It's a terrible thing," Paul said. "What happened today. I can't believe it. I really can't. Those two were great guys, I liked them both a lot."

  "Past tense, Paul?" Nisha asked, picking up on what Matty had also noted.

  "Well, they're dead now, aren't they? The father sent outside to die, the son sent to the clinic, where he'll be put through some awful program to fix his brain."

  "Do you remember you told me that being gay wasn't an issue here? That it was fine as long as you were discreet? That was a pile of old bullshit, wasn't it?" Matty leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Paul.

  Paul wouldn't look at him. "It seems so."

  "Seems, he says. Seems! You knew about this, you fucker." Matty's earlier anger returned.

  Paul looked up. "I had suspicions. I didn't think it'd be an issue for you, you're not gay."

  "I'm bisexual," Nisha said. "That is going to be a problem if I fall in love with a woman here, isn't it? This utopia of yours is crap."

  "Maybe to you. I don't agree. You haven't lived here long, you'll see that it's really a very good place. It's home."

  Nisha drew in a sharp breath. Matty shot her a quick look and saw that she was furious. Her brows were drawn and her eyes flashed. When she spoke again, her voice was low and soft. Intense anger dripped from her every word.

  "Home! This whole country is your home. You don't feel any sense of displacement because this is where you were born and raised. Matter of fact, didn't your family come from New Jersey? You can visit the graves of your ancestors and drink to them any time you like. Lucy had the idea, but it was you who shoved us all into cryo units with the promise of safety and a better world. Sure, like fools, we believed you, probably a bit of that belief was our own desire to live. This, this isn't home. My home, Arkady's and Matty's, is far, far away from here. I have no idea if India still exists or if Mumbai is still a city. I can't visit the graves of my ancestors and weep for their loss. Arkady can't go back to Russia and St. Petersburg to see his ancestors and Matty can't return to Australia. We have no way of getting to our homes, or even of communicating with them because of this backward, technophobic utopia of yours.

  "You talk of home, Paul, yet you are the only one in this room who has one. You are the only one here who isn't treated like something other, who isn't regarded with curiosity or suspicion, who isn't talked about in whispers and soft voices. You don't experience any sort of 'what if?' and you don't care about moving beyond this place because you, conveniently, are home from where you came, from where your family's roots are."

  Silence met her statement. Matty wanted to applaud her, because Nisha had put into words so well
what he himself had been feeling. He wondered what was left of Australia, how much of Sydney and Tasmania remained, of the cities and towns that bordered the coast of the entire country. He didn't dare think about his old friends and family, for fear that if he did, he'd start to weep and not be able to stop. He didn't fit in here, in this underground society; he doubted that Arkady did either.

  It was Arkady that broke the silence. "Paul, I understand that you're reluctant to leave this place. That's not the case for the rest of us."

  Paul huffed. "Fine. On your own heads be it. I'm not leaving, though."

  "Yeah, we got that," Nisha said.

  "I don't think there's much point in keeping up a communication with you while we go out, is there?" Matty asked. "I mean, you want to stay here and keep in the good graces of these people, I don't think the government, such as it is, would take too kindly to finding out what you were doing."

  "If that's how you want it," Paul said. His voice was flat and emotionless.

  "Before you go, though," Nisha said, now with a sneer in her tone, "we found a message for you. Kieran's behind this. He's looking forward to finding you. He probably wants to eat your eyeballs on toast, but he didn't really elaborate on that."

  Paul's eyes widened and his face paled. He stiffened as if he'd been hit by a lightning bolt and he licked his lips. "Kieran? Are you sure?"

  "Positive," Arkady said.

  "Shit." Paul ran his hands through his hair.

  "Is there anything you want to share with us?" Matty asked.

  "What? Oh. No. Kieran always hated me, you know that." Paul was shaking his head, it looked as if he wasn't going to stop. "That's even more reason for me to stay here."

  "You don't wish to know what his entire message was?"

  "No. Thanks, Arkady, I can imagine, that's more than enough." Paul got to his feet. "I guess I'll see you when I see you."

  "Did you find Gina?" Nisha asked.

  "Hm? Oh yeah. She's here, too. She's happy, married and mother to a son. She's not interested in going back to the bad old days of when we were spooks for our countries."

  "Convenient," Nisha said.

  "Fuck you," Paul said.

  "Right back at you. With a corn cob." Nisha turned away from him, her expression mirroring her disgust.

  Paul shook his head again. "Good luck," he said simply. He went to the door, unlocked it, and left Matty's apartment.

  Once he'd gone and the door had clicked shut behind him, Matty let out an explosive breath. Nisha got to her feet and without a word went into the bathroom. He heard the sound of running water followed by what seemed like a sob.

  "Let her be," Arkady said. His voice was gentle. "She needs to get it out, I think."

  Matty didn't like it but he stayed put. "This is all fucked, Arkady."

  "Mm. I didn't expect Paul to react the way he did. I also did not expect Nisha's speech, but she was absolutely right. I've been trying not to think of my family in St. Petersburg, or what could possibly have become of Russia. It isn't always easy."

  "Tell me about it." Matty leaned back once again. "I think we should move tonight. I don't think we can count on Paul to keep his mouth shut."

  "Agreed." Arkady was silent for a moment. "I think we should stick together. We will get everything we need here, then we will go to my place, then to Nisha's. Then we will go to the clinic and look for this poor man."

  "Sounds like a good plan. We should wait for midnight, though." Matty considered it. "We'll all look a bit bulkier than usual, strapped up with weapons."

  Nisha came back into the room. Her eyes were red and two spots of color were high in her cheeks. "What's the plan?"

  Arkady told her as Matty watched. She nodded her agreement and let out a quiet sigh.

  "I'm sorry I lost it before."

  Arkady waved that off. "You said nothing that was not true."

  "I've been trying not to think about my friends and family," Matty said. "You were right, we did enter cryo of our own free will, now we're awake and out, thinking back on it, I reckon we did it partly out of self-preservation and partly out of panic. We had no idea what was going on, who was betraying us, why everything we set in motion got FUBAR'd. It's the first rule in the book isn't it—the enemy is always closer than you think, suspect your friends just as much, if not more, than strangers."

  Arkady chuckled. "True that. Although at the time of cryo, a war was brewing."

  "So here we are." Matty sighed. "All right. We've got a few hours yet. Why don't we play at honest folks and have some dinner somewhere, let the population ogle us for a bit, after that, we can come back here and get to work."

  "That sounds good," Nisha said. "I'm not leaving the important stuff behind," she added. "If I'm going to be arrested and charged with treason, I want everything on me."

  *~*~*

  Shortly after midnight, dressed in dark, non-descript clothing and heavily armed, Matty, Nisha, and Arkady arrived at the doors of the clinic. These were the same bulky doors they had left through when they had been deemed fit enough to enter the society and community of the New York Underground City.

  Matty pulled a lock kit from the inside pocket of his coat. Arkady had one, too, and they made their way to the mechanism that sealed the door closed.

  "This is going to make a lot of noise," Matty said as he regarded the thing. "I remember it sounded like an old hanger door that hadn't been oiled for years."

  "We only need to open it enough to slide underneath," Arkady said.

  "Let's hope that no one wakes up." Matty went to work with his tools as Arkady and Nisha stood close, Nisha holding a flashlight. It didn't take long to pick; the lock was old and not very well made. Before long came the sound of a grinding of gears and levers and the door began to slide upwards. When it was raised perhaps three feet, Arkady stepped forward and jiggled the lock and the movement stopped, the noise with it.

  "That thing is so loud," Nisha said.

  "Let's move quickly," Matty said. "Get in, hide, figure out where to go."

  They moved as one, three shadows slipping beneath the door and running deep into the cavernous space beyond, taking cover behind a large pile of crates that stood to one side. Matty took stock of things, seeing the double glass doors he remembered and a bright light shining through them. As he watched, he saw movement, then a man he didn't recognize opened one of the doors and stepped through. He held a flashlight, and he shone it this way and that, looking around the area and at the doors.

  He stomped over to them, swearing loudly, and Matty grinned to himself. The man thought that the opening of the main area had been a mechanical fault—and as he watched, the doors were activated and began their noisy descent, closing with a loud clang.

  The man retraced his steps, still cursing. Once he'd gone, Matty turned to his friends. "We'll have to find a way out."

  "Through the library," Arkady said.

  "Good idea," Nisha said.

  "All right. Shall we?" Matty didn't wait for an answer, instead drawing his gun and moving quickly and silently.

  Once they were in the clinic, they moved with even more caution. None of them knew if there were security cameras. Although nothing was visible, Matty was on alert, ready for anything. They weaved through halls and corridors, ears strained for any sound, but the place was silent and still.

  Idly, Matty wondered what the clinic had been used for in the days before the war. It reminded him of a university or a medical school, lots of rooms with closed doors, offices, a mess hall, the room that had been his when he'd first woken up, which had been like a private hospital bed.

  The mess hall, when they reached it, was unchanged. Two people sat at a table that Matty hadn't expected to see—Dr. Johnson and Dr. Andrews. They were in profile and Matty drew back with Nisha and Arkady so they wouldn't be seen.

  "This has been a very busy day," Dr. Andrews was saying.

  "It's been an unusual day," Dr. Johnson said. "When will you begin your treatments
on the young man who was brought here?"

  Dr. Andrews yawned loudly before he answered. "In the morning. They're delicate and need my full concentration. I'm too tired to start tonight."

  Dr. Johnson nodded. "I don't think waiting one night is going to make much difference. After all, what we're doing here isn't really going to take long. Besides, keeping Daniel in B3 overnight will add to his fears of what will happen."

  "Mental reprogramming can take time," Dr. Andrews said.

  "Chemical castration doesn't." Johnson leaned back in his seat. "Shame about the father, though. He was a good man. Daniel's very upset about that."

  "They were a close family from what Daniel told me earlier." Dr. Andrews chuckled. "It's a good thing that the threat of a truth serum works—if it didn't, we'd have more problems."

  "Yes, no one ever managed to create something like that," Johnson said. "Came close, though."

  Dr. Andrews yawned again. "Before our time, my friend. Excuse me. I think I'm going to go to bed."

  Johnson nodded. "I think I will as well."

  The two men stood, the sound of their chairs scraping against the floor loud in the night. They left the mess hall together, still talking, walking in the opposite direction to Matty and his friends.

  "Chemical castration?" Arkady's voice was outraged.

  "We need to find this kid," Matty said.

  "B3's this way." Nisha pointed. "I remember passing rooms that were labeled B and a number when I was here."

  They followed her as she led the way and sure enough, they were soon walking down a corridor with rooms labeled the way she'd described. When they reached B3, Matty pulled out his lock kit again and got to work, opening the door quickly and quietly. The three of them entered, Nisha closing the door and leaning against it.

  "W-who's there?" came a tremulous voice from the darkness. "Please don't hurt me."

  "Shh, it's okay. We're friends." Matty felt on the wall for a light switch and flicked it on. "We don't work here. We've come to get you out."

  The young man he faced was as white as a sheet, his eyes round as saucers. He was hunched into himself in a corner of the narrow cot he sat on, clutching a pillow to him. "I know you. You're the cryo people."