by Jamie Canosa
“We need to find Connor and figure out where to go from here. We can’t stay long. Someone’s bound to notice eventually, and we need to be long gone before then.”
“Right. Connor.” Like he forgot about him.
He was somewhere near the far tower the last time I saw him, but that was a lot easier from twenty feet in the air. I grab hold of Peter—the last thing I need is to lose him in this mob scene too—and we push our way in that general direction.
“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble, Girlie,” Connor calls to me when he sees us coming.
“Don’t look at me. This is all his fault.” I point over at Peter who’s watching me incredulously.
“My fault? I’m not the one who jumped in front of some whip wielding guard.”
“And I’m not the one who started shouting for the workers to attack the guards, or did you forget that little addition to this whole situation?”
Connor just stands there staring at the two of us gape-jawed. Yup, that’s us, we never cease to amaze.
“I saw your little cheering section down here. Don’t think I missed that,” I rib Connor.
“Oh yeah? You wanna be my cheerleader, Girlie?”
“Not on your life.” For the first time in over a month, I’m genuinely happy, and I can’t help but laugh until I snort, which of course sets Connor off. Peter only rolls his eyes, which inexplicably makes me laugh even harder. When I finally manage to pull it together, I notice that a crowd of workers has formed around us.
“What are we supposed to do now?” The question comes from a woman near the front.
It surprises me. I just figured it would be every man for himself at this point. I didn’t really expect them to want to continue to work together, but maybe only I am that selfish. What surprises me even more is that the question is directed at me. Me… is she joking? How am I supposed to know?
Chapter 18
Every last trace of humor evaporates almost instantaneously, and I’m left utterly stunned. Obviously they have no idea who they’re talking to. If they even had the slightest idea what I was doing here in the first place, there’s no way they’d be asking me what to do.
“Told ya you started this.” Now Peter decides to develop a sense of humor?
From where we’re standing, I have a clear view of the front gate. Dozens of workers have forced them open and are fleeing, but hundreds more remain. Apparently, they’d rather allow someone else to make their decisions for them, follow along like the good little sheep they’ve been trained to be. For once, so would I. Too bad I’ve somehow managed to get myself thrown onto center stage like the freaking ring leader of this damn circus.
The thrill of victory is wearing off and the shock of what we’ve just done is starting to set in. More than anything, I want to step aside, let someone else step up to run this show. Or better yet, take Peter and Connor and just get the hell out of here while the getting’s good, but I’ve got all of these faces staring back at me, just waiting to hear the next step in this non-existent plan. They look tired, hungry, dirty, frightened and confused . . . just like me, and I can’t bring myself to let them all down. Damn, freaking conscience. Out beyond the crowd, the fields are littered with bodies, some moving, some not, some crying out for help . . .
“We have to do something for them. Is there somewhere we can take all the injured? Do we have any medical supplies here at all?”
“I’ve seen a few guards getting patched up for one thing or another over there.” Peter identifies a nearby structure, not metal like the rest, but wooden. What a luxury for the guards not to have to cook inside those tin cans.
“Right,” Connor’s voice booms over the crowd, “is anyone here a doctor?”
One older looking man raises his hand, and a woman comes forward claiming to be a nurse. Connor waves them both over. Some of the wounded are trying to make their way over to the rest of us, limping, crawling, however they can. Others can’t even manage that much.
“Everyone else spread out,” I shout, hoping my voice doesn’t give away the serious number nerves are doing on my stomach. “Help anyone that’s hurt over to there.”
I point out the building that Peter indicated, and immediately people start dispersing throughout the camp, checking bodies and offering aid. It’s incredibly weird in a satisfying sort of way to have this many people actually listening to what I say. That . . . and completely terrifying.
“I need to see what kind of supplies I have to work with, and get them organized before we get mobbed.” The doctor’s nervously scanning the sheer number of people headed his way, and I wonder if he’s already sorry he volunteered for this.
We all follow Peter over to the makeshift ‘hospital’ to check it out. Inside, the building is divided into several rooms. The first is some kind of common room with a sofa, card table and a small kitchen area, including a stove and refrigerator. I wonder what’s in there. Maybe later I’ll get a chance to check it out, but right now I should probably be looking for something a little more useful than a cold drink.
Off to the side are two doors, both of which lead to small offices. The desk drawers are heavy and difficult to open with only one hand, but I manage. Inside, I find papers strewn haphazardly, none of them organized in any way that I can make out.
“What a slob.”
“Yeah, things aren’t much better over here.” Peter’s rifling through a filing cabinet in the corner. “I have no idea what this guy’s filing system was, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t based on the English language, or any numerical system known to man.”
I continue scanning page after page of production statements, disciplinary reports, and order forms until I feel like my eyes may bleed. Only one thing stands out. A name: Drew Reynolds.
“Hey, have you ever heard of Drew Reynolds?” Peter asks before I get the chance.
“No, but his name is all over these forms. Probably works for Permatech, whatever the hell that is.”
“His name’s on these too, looks like he’s pretty important. Do you think he’s here?”
I scan over the papers with his name on them again. All of them are folded in thirds.
“I doubt it. Looks like all of these were all mailed.”
“Too bad. I’d like to get my hands on someone in charge of all of this,” Connor muses from the doorway. Nice of him to join us. I bet he was raiding the fridge.
The second office proves to be just as fruitless as the first. Enough paper to start a great bonfire, but that’s about it. In the back of the building, we find a much larger room with comfortable looking beds, and an attached bathroom. Clearly, the guard’s quarters . . . and I bet all of them even got their own bed. Best of all, we come across a large metal locker bursting with medical supplies.
People are already starting to pour in, some nearly dragging others behind them. But, before she can begin working on them, Peter pulls the nurse aside and insists she examines my hand and arm. No amount of arguing is going to dissuade either of them once she gets a look at the filthy bandage on my hand, so I reluctantly give in.
“Let’s see what we have here.” The nurse unwraps the shirt shards, tutting at the sloppy work as she goes. As if she could have done better with what we had to work with. “You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten infected.”
No, really? Glad she has all those years of training behind her expert opinion. All right, so apparently pain plus stress brings out a whole new level of bitchiness in me, but seriously.
“This really needs to be stitched. Let me see what we have.” With that cheery thought, she disappears into the crowd towards the supply locker.
Stitches? Just the idea is making me queasy. That’s me.The girl who can sneak in and out of work camps at will, and start a riot, but can’t stomach the idea of getting a needle pulled through her skin. Tough as nails, I am.
“You gonna be able to hold it together, or do I need to get a barf bag?” Sure, yesterday he’s all worked up over a cut, but no
w that I’m about to have a needle and thread pulled through my bare skin Peter’s amused.
When the nurse returns with the sharpest, longest needle I’ve ever seen in my entire life—so not exaggerating—Peter holds out his hand for me. “Hang on.”
I squeeze until I’m fairly certain he’s trying to hide a grimace behind his smile. Sorry, pal, but I’m pretty sure my hand hurts worse than yours. Suck it up. Of course, in our half-assed hospital, anesthetics are nonexistent. I can feel every single jab of the needle and tug of the twine. Not something I care to repeat . . . ever. By the time she’s finished, I’ve been clenching my teeth so long my entire jaw hurts. My hand felt about a million times better before I let her touch it, so I’m beginning to wonder about her training after all.
“Now it won’t get infected.” She wraps a clean white bandage around my hand, but I’m not convinced which would have been worse, the stitches or the infection. “Now let’s have a look at your arm.”
I’m reluctant to let this woman get anywhere near my arm. It hurts, but nothing like my hand. Luckily, she declares that the injury doesn’t require any kind of special procedure, just some ointment and another bandage. Lucky for her, because if she comes near me with that needle again, I may have to hit her. When I’m all wrapped up, Peter leans back to take me in, shaking the feeling back into his hand.
“You’re a mess.”
“Yeah? Well, you don’t look so great yourself.”
“At least I don’t look like some kind of mummy.” That’s nice, real nice. I’m in pain and he’s laughing at me. Why did I come back for him again?
The nurse comes back just to shoo us out of the building to make room for her next patient. I feel a great swell of pity for whomever that poor soul is, and vacate the area as quickly as I can manage.
“I was just coming to look for you.” Connor catches up with us as soon as we step outside. “Feeling better?”
“Worse, actually.”
“Oh, quit complaining.” Peter’s still laughing to himself.
“Fine, you get a body part sewn up next time.”
“Well, you look better, except maybe that green tinge to your face.” And now Connor’s laughing too. Unbelievable. They’ve finally decided to join forces on something, and it’s to tease me. How did I ever get so lucky?
“What can we do now?” I’m anxious to get busy. Keeping myself occupied has always been my best coping mechanism, and I could really use one of those at the moment.
“Everything’s pretty much being taken care of,” Connor informs us, much to my dismay. “All of those with injuries are being triaged as we speak, and some people volunteered to move the . . . um, uh . . . the bodies away.”
Yeah, I could definitely use a new coping mechanism right about now. “Where are they putting them?”
“Outside the fence for now. They’re planning to dig a mass grave after they collect as many names as they can. Just in case, ya know?”
I know. Maybe someday, we’ll actually be able to tell their loved ones what happened to them, bring them a little peace. It may be wishful thinking, but at least it’s a kind thought, and it’s giving them something to do.
“Once things settle down, we’re going to have to move these people.” Peter’s right, but where?
“Where in the world are we going to be able to take all of these people without anyone noticing? It just isn’t possible.”
“So we don’t take all of them,” Peter rationalizes. “I heard colony M isn’t far from here. Maybe they’ll be willing to take some of them in once they know what’s happening out here. Then we can move on, dropping off smaller groups of people in colonies as we go. I know it’s a long shot, but at least some of them should be able to assimilate and disappear with a good enough cover story.”
That’s actually not a bad idea at all. It’s very similar, in fact, to the plan I had for the three of us once we got out of here . . . just on a much larger scale. Of course, that makes everything more complicated.
“The three of us could have pulled it off, but if six or seven hundred people go traipsing into a colony, someone’s bound to notice.”
“Most of us won’t go into the colony. Just the one’s who’ll be staying. The rest can wait outside the fence. In fact, we should probably just send one or two people in at first to speak with someone in charge, and make sure they’ll let a group stay.” For once, he’s making perfect sense.
The original idea was to just sneak inside a colony and try to build a life for ourselves somehow without anyone noticing. Okay, it had a few holes, but with this many people it’s completely shot to hell. We’re going to need someone’s help to get everyone assigned jobs and living arrangements.
“They’re gonna need at least a day or so to get everyone patched up and ready to move anyway,” Connor confirms.
“Perfect. Leigh and I can go to colony M and check things out there.” Whoa, when did I volunteer to play ambassador? “If we leave now, we can be back in a few days. Think you can have everyone ready to go by then?”
“We can try. What do you say, Girlie? This all right with you?”
What can I say? No, I’d rather stay here and hide in a corner? Guess I’m going to colony M.
“All right, fine, let’s do this,” I agree, but make no attempt to conceal my reluctance.
“Have fun.” Connor pats me on the shoulder with a grin, and I just nod. Whatever possibilities today has in store for us, I doubt fun will be among them.
Chapter 19
Peter and I pack a couple of satchels that we scrounged up from the guard’s quarters with some food and bottles of water. It will be a real luxury to actually have supplies for this trip. The only thing we really had going for us when it was me and Connor hiking out of a work camp was the weather, minus that one nasty rainstorm. Now, it feels like we’re walking through a freaking furnace. Half my water bottle is already gone by the time we stop for the night, and Peter’s shirt is clinging to each of the muscles in his shoulders and back, which I haven’t been able to stop staring at for the past three hours.
“You want to camp here?” Peter turns around, and I glance away just in time to avoid being caught gawking at him. “I could use a break, and it’ll be dark soon.”
“Looks exactly like every other piece of ground we’ve covered so far today, so why not?”
“Good. I’m starved.” Peter roots around in his bag for a minute before producing two granola bars and tossing one at me.
“Where did you score these?” It feels like my birthday all over again. A granola bar has never looked so much like a piece of chocolate cake.
“One of the cabinets in the guard’s quarters. There weren’t many left, so enjoy it.” Peter laughs as I indulge in what I’m sure could be classified as the overreaction of the century, savoring every single bite and blatantly moaning over each chocolate chip that touches my tongue.
When I’ve licked the last traces of chocolate from my fingers—which is way too soon if you ask me—we get ready to bed down. Without the metal roof and walls of the dormitory, it actually gets pretty chilly out here at night. Peter had the forethought to pack a blanket. I, shockingly, did not. Luckily, his mother taught him how to share.
After I clear away any rocks I can see in the fading light, Peter spreads out the blanket. He crawls into the center, and then motions for me to do the same. Clearly the awkwardness of the situation is lost on him because when I hesitate, he just tugs me down beside him. Then, he wraps the blanket around the both of us, sleeping bag style. I tuck the side of the blanket beneath me to make a sort of little cocoon for the two of us, and I notice the weight of Peter’s arm still slung across my waist, his chest warm against my back.
“Thanks so much for volunteering me for this little trip,” I complain as I shift positions for about the millionth time since lying down.
“No problem. I figured at least two of us should go, and if you think for one second that I’m letting you out of my sig
ht again, then you really have lost your mind.” I’m still trying to decide if I should be insulted when he continues. “Every time you’re left to your own devices, disaster strikes.” Yep, now I’m definitely insulted.
“It’s not like you did much better without me.”
“No, I guess not,” Peter concedes wearily, and I can tell he’s already halfway to oblivion. “We’d better stick together, then.”
It is a long night without much sleep . . . for me, anyway. Somehow Peter manages to sleep like one of the many rocks I must have missed in my sweep of the area. I haven’t the slightest idea what to expect from tomorrow, and that is no small cause for concern. We’re about to lay some crazy stuff on these people. Stuff that, if I hadn’t lived it, I may not have believed myself. There’s just no telling how they’re going to react. People can be unpredictable and illogical. It’s one of the things I hate most about them.
***
Despite the cold last night, the sun is scorching again today. We find shade wherever we can, but most of the land we’re crossing is just open fields with no relief in sight. When the colony first comes into view, my initial reaction is that it must be some kind of mirage.
“We made it,” Peter announces, and unless we are now sharing delusions, I guess it must be true.
We slip into colony M the same way Connor and I got into D. The train station seems to be a common weak point for all of the colonies, but again, who really expects anyone to be breaking in? I’m guessing it’s not a frequent problem. I feel mildly brilliant pointing this fact out to Peter, even if it was Connor who pointed it out to me first. I choose to defer giving him credit until after my ego has been sufficiently boosted.
Getting access to the mayor, however, is infinitely more difficult. Go figure. Three secretaries and two hours in a waiting room later, we are finally escorted into his office. He’s a large man—and that’s being kind—with a receding hairline, and really bad facial hair. I wonder if someone could move some of that to his head for him. His chin is propped on one chubby fist as he scans us from head to toe in his freshly pressed suit. I hadn’t even considered how we must look. No wonder it was so hard to get in to see him. They must all think we’re nuts, and it’s not going to get any easier to believe otherwise once we start talking.