I exited the building at the far end and crossed the next street after making sure I was not being watched. There were several people who did see me, but they were not NATech. Three watched with unseeing eyes, buried in their own misery. I walked by another, but he was lying against a wall, staring out at nothing. He may have been dead. But I couldn't stop to see. I needed to put a few more streets between me and the searchers. By now they would have advanced enough to have discovered the two I'd killed, so they'd be hunting me with a vengeance.
I raced up another alley, this one formed by yet another empty husk of a warehouse on one side. But the other building was still in use. As I stepped by the open front door, I could smell food being cooked. It smelled like barley soup. Yes, barley soup and fresh made bread...
.THAT HAD BEST BE TAKEN OUT IN FIVE MINUTES OR THE CRUST WOULD BE TOO ==HARD. AND THE BARLEY SOUP COULD USE A LITTLE SPICE. IT WAS FAR TOO FLAT TO BE ANY GOOD.
I NOTICED I WAS BREATHING HARD. I STOPPED AND LOOKED AROUND. THIS WASN'T FONTAINEBLEAU. WHERE WAS I? I TURNED AROUND AND LOOKED UP THE STREET I HAD JUST ... HAD JUST ... THAT WAS ODD. WHAT WAS I JUST DOING? I FELT A WEIGHT IN MY HAND AND LOOKED AT IT.
IT WAS A GUN! REACTING LIKE IT WAS A VIPER, I THREW IT AWAY. IT FLEW INTO A PILE OF WASTE THAT WAS LYING IN AN ALLEY I WAS STANDING NEAR. NOTHING LOOKED FAMILIAR.
"PROFESSOR LECLAIRE?” I CALLED OUT TENTATIVELY. BUT HE DIDN'T ANSWER.
No...
* * *
Abigail's Black Chapter
I was in a ghetto. The streets were very foreign and I could not smell the Seine's sweet waters. It was also daylight and much warmer than it should be for December. Clearly, something was wrong. My back also hurt, as though it were bruised. Yet I could think of nothing that would have caused it.
Feeling very disoriented and in a fog, I wandered to the doorway where I had smelled the barley soup and bread. Perhaps I could get assistance from someone inside.
It was dim inside and I saw there was no power to the lights. But although the building was obviously a ruin, it was swept clean and had about it a kind of dignified poverty. As I looked around the empty floor, I heard a clatter in the back, followed by the husky laugh of a middle-aged woman.
“Hello?” I called out. “Pardon? May I have assistance?"
The noise stopped, but she did not come out. I called again.
“Madame? Could you please help me? I am afraid I have become quite lost."
The door to the back area opened slowly, and a face poked out from behind. It was indeed a middle-aged woman, probably no older than me. I smiled and she stepped out further.
“Good morning, Madame. Thank you for your kind attention. My name is Miss..."
“Whut's yer problem? Talk straight."
English? Why would she be speaking English and not French? I felt my discomfort maturing into fear.
“My pardon, Madame. I take it we are not in France?” I asked in English.
“France?” She chuckled. “Not too likely, girly. Glendale ain't much, but at least it's got level ground.” She laughed again at her odd joke. I did not understand the humor, but that only served to frighten me more.
She saw the look on my face and stopped laughing. She came out, holding a large cleaver. It should have terrified me had her face not been so soft and concerned.
“Here now. You're new here, ain't you?"
“New? To what? To where?” I heard the whine of a machine outside and turned.
She clucked sympathetically. “Oh, dear, girly. We need to get into the back quickly.” She took my hand and pulled me through the door. On the other side was a small room with a ramshackle bed and a single burner stove. There was also a chair, tiny table and a box, which the woman began to rummage through.
I stood there quietly, not knowing what to think or say or do. I smelled the bread again and noticed the small stove also had an oven. The bread was done, so I located a muff and pulled it out. I also stirred the soup, which had begun to settle. Tasting it, I felt it needed a pinch more pepper, so I added it.
“So you cook, hey?” My new friend asked. In her arms were some worn, faded clothing that had been carefully cleaned and folded.
“Oui, Madame. Pardon. I mean, yes. Yes, I do. And Professor LeClaire is most particular about the way..."
“That's nice girly, but we're going to have visitors shortly. Nasty ones. Here, put these on."
“May I ask why?"
“Because if these men see you dressed like that, they'll know you're a new Shard in a second. Now change. And quickly!"
A Shard! Did she mean to say my ripe had sharded? Such an occurrence was extremely rare, but perhaps it had happened to me. Hurriedly I took off my clothing. At her urging, I took off my underthings as well, rather than risk a full body search. I paused a moment, but did as she asked. I could straighten this out later.
It was while I was putting on her clothing that I became aware that I had indeed sharded. My body was no longer my body. I was a young lady again, as young as the day dear Professor LeClaire had purchased me to be his housekeeper. Yet that day had been forty years ago! I would need to find the authorities quickly, or I would be a branded an unregistered ripe and be unable to return to my position.
I finished slipping on the worn clothing and passed my other clothes to the woman. She hurriedly place them back in her box, shoving them to the bottom. She began talking as she made to straighten up. Noting an apron, I put it on and started to look about the three cupboards, taking an inventory.
“Listen quick. My name is Ellen. And you are?"
“My name is Miss DeChant."
“No, no. Your first name!"
“I—I have no first name."
“What? Why ever not?"
“Since I am a ripe, made to be a housekeeper, I need no first name."
WHAT? SHE KNOWS SHE A RIPE?
She looked at me sharply. “That doesn't sound right. Okay, we'll call you Mona, and you're my property, got it?"
“No, no, Madame. I am grateful to you, surely, but I belong to..."
“Look! We're about to be searched and questioned. If you want to avoid gettin’ raped, you say you belong to me. I know the guy in charge of this dump town, and he'll leave you alone, if he ain't got no cause to seize you. Got it?"
I do not know why she was so worried about rape. I was not some sex ripe, who only knew that kind of life. I was far more valuable otherwise. Still, to soothe her I nodded. “Oui, Madame."
We continued straightening up and cooking. I had taken down a pot from the shelf and filled it with water from a large can, when the door smashed open. I dropped the pot and stared.
There were two large brutes, dressed in armor and carrying guns similar to the one I had thrown away. They aimed them at me. Behind them stood another man, tall and distinguished looking. He had insignia on his shoulder that I did not recognize, yet marked him as an officer, as did the way he carried himself. I was badly frightened, yet retained enough courage to smile a little.
“Good day, officers. Might I offer you some tea?” I bent down and picked up the pot. Turning my back to them, I began refilling it from the can.
“Who's this, Ellen?” a deep voice said behind me.
“Leave ‘er alone, Deiley. She just some kid the Resistance dropped off awhile back. I got dibs on ‘er, an if you wanna keep gettin’ yer info, you'll keep yer hands off her!” I stiffened slightly. Professor LeClaire had used his position at the Institute to retain numerous informants in order to further his own ambitions. I saw nothing wrong with that. Indeed, it was impossible for me to disapprove of anything Professor LeClaire did. But other than those who worked for him, I viewed all informants with distaste.
I could not let her know my feelings. Instead, I turned, placing the pot on the stove and turning on the heating element. Even the slight weight of the water caused a twinge in my injured back. The large officer watched me closely, but I knew he didn't see my reaction for I had none. I never bothered
my owner with trivial pains. Wanting to show confidence, I opened the door and brought down the small tin of tea I had noticed earlier. He missed nothing, including, I hoped, that I moved with ease about the small kitchen.
“How long have you had her?"
“I dunno. Five weeks, maybe six. I sharded a month ago and lost a few days, I think.” Ellen was a Shard as well? That a ripe would shard was nearly impossible. That there would be two of us in the same room—and an officer who did not seem surprised by that—indicated there was something very wrong. What had happened to me?
He didn't seem convinced, so I turned out the loaf of bread and began cutting it, using the knife hanging on a nail beside the stove. I placed it on a plate and offered it to him and his men, smiling.
“Would you care for a slice, officer? I have baked it only this morning. I can offer you some of my barley soup as well, and tea in a few moments."
The smell of fresh baked bread, and my claim to have baked it seemed to satisfy him. He took a piece and chewed it carefully, looking at me thoughtfully.
“What's your name, girl?"
“Mona, officer. Mona DeChant."
He glanced at Ellen. “You only have one bed. Where has she been sleeping?"
“With me, Deiley. This ain't no resort. One bed's all I got."
“Why not look around for another one? You've had over a month."
Ellen stepped up and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to her.
“Look, do I gotta draw you holos, Deiley?” I smiled shyly and tried to look comfortable. Inside, I felt nothing.
“You're a sick woman, Ellen."
“Hey, you live here for five or six years, and you'd be sick too, Deiley. Watcha out here for anyway? You leave the local stuff to your SS jerks. You don't come out of yer hidey hole less it's big."
“We have a couple of dogs to hunt. One gunned down a man and the other killed two more with only his hands.” He paused. “Or her hands."
“Uh-huh. And this little kid did all three? Or maybe just two and the other died of fright. Use your head! She couldn't kill a four-footed rat, let alone a two legged one."
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Let's find out.” He stepped forward quickly, and struck me in the face. I cried out and went to my knees. Ellen gave an animal yell and leapt at him, but the two men restrained her. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, staring intently in my tear-filled eyes, as though looking for something. He released my hair and grabbed my throat, then began striking me repeatedly with his open hand, never taking his eyes off mine, nor betraying any emotion. I choked and pulled
NO, YOU IDIOT! PUNCH UP INTO HIS CROTCH, THEN JAM YOUR MIDDLE FINGERS INTO HIS EYES OR NOSTRILS WHEN HE BENDS OVER.
I FELT BOTH THE PAIN OF THE BEATING AND THE PAIN OF FRUSTRATION. IF I COULD ONLY GET CONTROL FOR A MOMENT...
at his hand, but with no effect. He just continued striking and choking me. There was a peculiar buzzing in my ears, and I began to lose my vision. My fingers went numb and my arms felt heavy, so I let them drop useless to my sides. He was still hitting me, but I did not feel the blows. I could taste my blood.
He tossed me against the bed, a look of distaste in his eyes. He motioned to his men and they released Ellen, who came to me, cradling me in her lap. She stared defiantly at the men, shaking with rage. I started coughing, but made no move that would allow them an excuse to hurt me further.
“Get out of here! Get out! Look what you've done to my girl! She's not some Resistance Dog! Get out!"
“No, she's not who we're looking for. Very well, Ellen, you can keep her for now.” His voice sharpened slightly. “But don't ever use that tone with me again. I can find other informants.” They strode out just as the pot began to whistle.
Ellen helped me onto the bed, then went up front to be sure they were truly gone. She came back shortly and pulled out a clean rag, wetting it. She then sat beside me and began dabbing my face. The rag came away bloody, so she rinsed it and continued. My vision cleared and feeling returned to my arms and legs.
“They're gone. I don't think they'll be back, either.” She laughed and continued to clean my face, perhaps a bit roughly. “To think they were actually suspicious of you killing three of their men! You're such a tiny thing.” She felt my arms and ran a hand up my leg. “Nicely muscled, though.” Her hand lingered on my thigh.
I remained silent. I couldn't see how I could have done such a thing. But I recalled the gun in my hand. Could there be another ripe inside me that did have the ability to attack and kill?
YES! OH, PLEASE! CONTINUE THINKING THAT!
MAYBE I COULD ESTABLISH A TYPE OF RAPPORT WITH THIS WOMAN. SHE SEEMED FAR MORE INTELLIGENT AND REAL THAN THE OTHER WOMAN HAD. I KNEW HER THOUGHTS COMPLETELY AND RESPECTED BOTH HER AND HER INTELLIGENCE. HER ONLY LIMITATION SEEMED TO BE HER PROGRAMMED OBEDIENCE AND SUBMISSION.
PERHAPS...
It was something to consider. Perhaps...
Ellen was leaning over me and kissed me deeply. I started, then relaxed.
NO! RESIST! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT SHE'S DOING TO ME? TO US?
Ellen had chosen to take advantage of me in my weakened state. It didn't matter. I would not have fought in any event, because to me it was unimportant.
She continued to kiss me deeply, not caring that I didn't react. Finally, she released me, smiling.
“I suppose I convinced more than Deiley with my speech. I'd forgotten how nice it was to be with someone else. Maybe I will keep you."
“You can't, Ellen. I'm Professor LeClaire's housemaid."
She said nothing, but kissed me again and began holding me close. She sensed my disinterest and pulled her lips back, looking at me with disappointment.
“Don't you feel anything, Mona?"
I shook my head. “No. I'm not riped that way, Ellen. I have never had, nor can have, sexual feelings for any man or woman. Professor LeClaire was very specific about that when he ordered me. And my name is not Mona. It's Miss DeChant. I am Professor LeClaire's housekeeper."
She laughed and struck me. She derived equal pleasure from that as from showing me tenderness. “What year do you think this is, Mona?"
I quietly wiped some blood from my lip. “Today is December the fourth, 2315."
“Well, that takes care of Professor LeClaire. He's dust now, Mona. Unless he can figure out a way to live 350 years."
“What do you mean..."
“What do you think I mean? It's April, 2679, pet. Or May. I ain't really sure. And this ain't France. It's Arizona. France is a great big, radioactive crater."
I was stunned. Surely not France? The lights of Paris, the vineyards, the dairies, the glorious flowers, the Seine. Gone? I felt a deep loss in my heart. I knew that I was riped to believe I was from France—Professor LeClaire had told me everything about my past—but knowing I was a soulless human did not change my feelings. Such a wonderful country! My country. Ellen's words and superior tone hurt far more than the officer's blows.
“Oh, France!” I mourned out loud, slipping into my native French. “Such a loss for the world! To be forever denied the Bordeaux wines, the coolness of the Rhone, the..."
“Hey, knock off the gibberish! You speak English from now on, ya’ hear?"
I looked at this woman who would have me. She had saved my life, but she had saved me for herself. I was a thing to her. Worse, I was a thing with the wrong purpose. I needed a new owner, but for housekeeper duties, not the duties of the bed. I needed to leave. But I feared that this small body would not be able to overcome her. I shall have to trick her, I thought. But how? I could not fake love nor the act of making love. But I could serve as her housekeeper, perhaps allow her to think that I would submit to her other requirements of me. And when the moment was right, I would run for the protection of the authorities. The officer who had beaten me would make a good owner, if I could only locate him. Doing that, I
WHAT? HE MUST HAVE HIT YOU ONCE TOO OFTEN! HE ALMOST KILLS US AND YOU WANT TO GO BACK TO HIM
? WHATEVER FOR? BETTER TO TAKE OUR CHANCES WITH THIS ELLEN WOMAN.
I FELT SICK TO MY STOMACH OVER HER MOLESTING ME, BUT IT WAS UNLIKELY SHE COULD HARM US PHYSICALLY. THEN WHEN THIS SHARD WORE OFF, I WOULD BE EASILY ABLE TO ESCAPE.
escape. I ... my train of thought was broken. What was I thinking? I shook my head, and pain throbbed throughout it. I hoped I had not been permanently injured. I looked up at Ellen who was still glaring at me, no doubt awaiting an answer to a question I had forgotten. I knew how to respond to this type of person, though. I hung my head submissively.
“Yes, Madame. I apologize."
She seemed placated, and sat down beside me. She took me by the shoulders and pulled me down on the bed beside her. I did not resist.
NO! NOT AGAIN! MISS DECHANT! PLEASE! YOU MUST FIGHT HER! YOU'RE STRONG ENOUGH! NO! FIGHT HER! THIS ISN'T RIGHT! PLEASE...
PLEASE...
PLEASE...
...
IT WAS VERY DARK. I SPUN AROUND. WHERE WAS I? WHY COULDN'T I SEE THROUGH MISS DECHANT'S EYES? WAS SHE UNCONSCIOUS? NO, SHE WASN'T. MY PREVIOUS EXPERIENCE WITH THE OTHER GIRL TOLD ME THAT MUCH. NO! WAS SHE DEAD? BUT SHE COULDN'T BE, OR I WOULD BE, TOO. AND THIS CERTAINLY WASN'T HEAVEN. THEN WHERE WAS I?
I STARTED WALKING. I COULD FEEL MY LEGS MOVE, BUT COULD NOT SEE THEM. ALL WAS PITCH BLACK. I COULDN'T SEE ANYTHING, I COULDN'T HEAR ANYTHING, I COULDN'T SMELL ANYTH...
WAIT. YES I COULD SMELL SOMETHING. IT WAS A POTENT SMELL, WITH A SLIGHT BURNING SENSATION. IT SEEMED FAMILIAR, BUT I WAS UNABLE TO PLACE IT. I STOOD STILL AND CONCENTRATED ON THE SMELL, KNOWING THAT IN A MOMENT I WOULD...
Ellen was now fully on top of me, when she suddenly stiffened, biting my neck hard. I yelled and pushed her off, knowing I would be struck. She didn't strike me. She remained stiff and unmoving. Her gray-streaked black hair was covering much of my face, so I brushed it away with one hand.
Shards [Book Two] Page 14