Shield

by Rachael Craw

  “Has Knox interfered?”

  “Uh, no. There has been no communication from Counsellor Knox, but I am only operating in a support position. He may have spoken to–”

  “There has been no change in protocol?”

  “None.”

  Ethan exhales and nods.

  “I understand there was a – a disturbance this afternoon,” she lowers her voice. I picture Jamie and the others in the barracks avoiding eye contact while hanging on every word.

  A shadow forms in the back of my mind. Who knew about my Synergist connection with Jamie other than Ethan and Juno? Helena. If Jamie was reluctant to return to the Deactivation Program, what might change his mind?

  The need to protect his reproductive rights?

  The need to protect mine?

  Suspicion imbeds itself in the deep tissue of my mind and spreads like a malignant tumour, multiplying cells. Helena.

  Ethan shifts his shoulders. “I will need to speak with you in person.”

  “Der Bär is worried?” her whisper is loud. I imagine her leaning close to the intercom.

  “I will return to level six shortly.”

  “Very well.”

  Ethan releases the speaker button and the buzzing ceases. He pauses as though gathering himself before turning to face us.

  The news about Miriam has my insides coiled so tight it feels like cramp in my diaphragm, but Helena … “Der Bär ? What’s with that?”

  He flicks a look at Juno who crosses her arms and clicks her teeth.

  “It is nothing,” he says.

  “Really? ’Cos it sounds like something.”

  “Now is not the time.”

  “For spinning me crap?”

  His eyebrows muscle into a grizzly line.

  “She knows.” I jerk my head at Juno.

  She purses her lips. “Ethan.”

  He closes his eyes, and balls his hands into fists.

  My head empties like a burst bag of Skittles – a thousand thoughts in every direction at once and then a blank. “What? Say it.”

  “Helena is my … that is to say … I am …” He pales. “I have raised Helena since she was six years old and I am the only father she knows.”

  The blank doesn’t lift. None of my Skittles rolled this way.

  Silence rushes the gap and it’s a big gap. A waiting gap. A bracing gap. But the earth doesn’t crack open, the tsunami doesn’t hit, the tornado doesn’t rip my house from its foundations. It’s nothing like that. My internal shutters simply fall from their hinges. Ethan’s words lifting the linchpins. No explosion. No telekinetic shitstorm. Nothing. Just a scraped-out shell. I think I swallow. “Right.”

  “Evangeline,” Ethan empties my name from his throat like it’s heavy as hell, his shoulders sagging with the effort. He gives Juno a look that makes the Grim Reaper nickname reasonable.

  “And der Bär?”

  He grimaces again. “It is just a name she called me when she was a child.”

  “What name?” Like I’m not happy until I bleed.

  “‘The bear’. It means ‘the bear’.”

  “The bear?”

  “It was a game, a story. A bedtime story. Goldilocks.”

  Goldilocks.

  “You were the bear and Helena was …”

  “She had trouble sleeping. It was … I have been trying to find the right time …”

  I tip my face into my hands and slowly rub my dry eyes, careful over the bruising. I massage my forehead and press my fingers to my mouth. Do I even want to know how Helena became his? He must have been young. Was it a teen pregnancy? She doesn’t look like Ethan but neither do I. He said, the only father she knows. Is that meant to imply there was another father? A cog clicks in my brain on a completely different track. “Oh,” I murmur. “This is what Jamie meant.”

  “Jamie?” Ethan says his name like it sticks in his teeth.

  “He wanted to apologise for not telling me that Helena was your …” I gesture as though the truth is spilled on the floor. “That’s why he came to my room. I misunderstood. Completely.”

  Ethan grips his temples between thumb and forefinger. “I was planning to tell you but I could see you were very shaken after the mess hall. I did not–”

  “Have I blown anything up?” My voice is flat. He stares at me, lips parted like there’s a whole lot more to say but I’ve had about as much as I can take. I’m done.

  “Ethan,” Juno, an eggshell walk. “There are things we need to discuss – fallout with the Executive Council, protecting the Initiative. Knox can’t revoke the assignment but I think we must assume he’ll try to use what he’s found – or thinks he’s found – to undermine us. I’m sure Evangeline would like some time alone with her mother.”

  He runs his lower lip through his teeth, all glower. “Evangeline.” Again he makes my name sound like the heaviest word in the English language. “The Reform protects you for now, even if Knox has confirmed your bond with Jamie. But until he has the results of your blood test – until he can prove you are the offspring of a Synergist affiliation – we must keep it secret. You cannot tell Helena or Davis or anyone else. It would not be safe for them or you.”

  I read between the lines: don’t tell Helena you’re my daughter. She gets that title. First dibs and a shared life history, secret names, bedtime stories. Memories. Actual bonds. I’m the “responsibility”. I don’t know whether to be offended that he’d think I was that petty or stupid, but why warn me against telling Davis? Why would I tell Davis anything? I give him a dead-eyed shrug and lift my chin. “You think she told Knox?”

  He turns his head sharply.

  I fill my gaze with flint, certainty like a bitter chemical in my mouth.

  “No. She would not.”

  A brittle pause.

  Juno gives a polite cough. “It would be understandable if she had. Jamie can’t back out of the Deactivation Program now, not if he wants to protect his reproductive …”

  Ethan gives her the Reaper glare. “I understand the Reform, Juno. I wrote it. Helena would never betray my trust.”

  I raise my eyebrows, final punctuation before turning my back. I slip my hand beneath Miriam’s and will them to leave.

  When they file out, I feel Ethan’s pause at the threshold, his turmoil in the silence, his unbearable need to speak. Instead he closes the door and their signals retreat. I pull myself back from the bandwidth, not wanting to feel Miriam’s absence with them gone. I feel her heartbeat through her skin and hold it in the palm of my hand.

  BELIEVER

  I don’t cry. Not right away. Not even for a couple of hours. I stand there at first, holding Miriam’s hand, studying her face until my legs grow stiff and I’m sick of shifting my weight from foot to foot. Does she know about Helena?

  Eventually, I duck out into the lab to look for a chair. There are none. Only tall stools. I badly want to lie down, but the floor of the surgery is cold tile. The only other bed is the metal operating table. I decide to hitch myself up on the narrow counter, a small twinge in my bandaged finger, and lie flat. I think I even sleep, or shutdown at least – my body’s short-term denial.

  It’s when I wake to the aggressive grumbling of my stomach that the numb lifts and the crying starts. Gentle tears at first, my back bouncing rhythmically on the counter, then audible sobs, hot rivulets down my cheeks, buckling and curling in.

  Miriam. A time line. A sentence. Helena … the real estate of my father’s heart. A tip-off. Her claim on Jamie. Knox with my blood, gunning for me, coming for me. Aiden dead and a cure waiting for a miracle turn. But the Initiative has been shoved to the bottom of the heap by an avalanche of too much.

  The faint clatter of boots on the stairs out in the gym. I swing off the counter and mop the tears from my cheeks and beneath my chin with the hem of my tank top. My nose is swollen and stuffy, I know my face must be blotchy and my eyes bloodshot and now my shirt is wet too.

  I take up my position beside Miriam’s
bed, brush my hair down close around my face, angle my back to the door. I reach into the bandwidth, find Davis and sigh with relief. Thirty seconds later the door clicks open.

  “Hey.” A waft of warm food. “Hungry?”

  My stomach answers for me, so loud I wrap my arm around my waist.

  “Thought so.” Davis clatters a tray onto the counter. Then a rattling sound like a maraca. “Special delivery.”

  There’s no getting around letting him see my face. I sniff and turn. He’s holding a bottle of pills. The urge to cry again creates pressure in my head. My nose must be throbbing red. He doesn’t say anything and looks past me to Miriam. I take the pills and nod at the door. “Might eat in the lab.”

  He holds the door for me and I take my heavy tray and settle at one of the dusty tables, pulling a stool close. Davis hitches himself up on a neighbouring desk. I know he sees the tremor in my hands as I uncap the bottle of pills. I tap three into my palm.

  He clicks his tongue. “It says two.”

  I raise an eyebrow and swallow three tablets without water. He doesn’t say anything and I dig into the steaming plate of stir-fry. Davis watches me eat but I don’t mind. Davis is easy to be with. He doesn’t push.

  “We’re bringing all the gear down from the upper lab shortly.”

  I lift my head, cheeks stuffed, fork overflowing.

  “Tesla’s shifting everything down here – for the cure. Doesn’t trust Knox.”

  I swallow and stare.

  He points at my tray, get on with it. He doesn’t speak again until he sees me eating. “We’re all relocating to the lower barracks. The Wardens will go out in the morning and we should have an assignment for tomorrow night. Tesla wants us all together until we get the call.”

  I bring my fork to my mouth, reading the subtext. It’s not safe for the Initiative on level six. This is my fault.

  Davis falls silent. I eat until my plate is clean. A full stomach helps to take the edge off and I imagine the pills breaking down and dispersing through my bloodstream. I hope they hit soon, and tuck my hands beneath the table to hide the tremors. I can’t think of what to say and then I remember something curious. “Why does Ethan say you’re safe to train me?”

  Davis crosses his arms. “’Cos I’m the best in the business.”

  I roll my eyes. “But why safe?”

  He looks away. “You know how twitchy they are about the no fraternising rules. I guess he means I’m safe because … I’m not a perv and I can keep it in my pants.”

  “Not a perv. High praise. What about the boob grab?”

  He scowls and blushes. “That was an accident. I said I was sorry.”

  I snort at my empty plate.

  “Speaking of perverts, guess things aren’t quite over with you and Moneybags.”

  “We were drugged.”

  He produces a sceptical nod.

  “You felt the signal Knox was blasting in there through the …” I wave my hand overhead, “… sex-o-matic, or whatever the hell it was.”

  “Synergists.” His voice is soft and contemplative.

  My shoulders slump. “Does everyone know?”

  “It’s going round.” He straightens his back. “Hard to compete.”

  I give him a sideways look.

  He keeps his face impassive. “Helena. Doesn’t have much of a chance. Does she?”

  “More chance than I’ve got. She’s made sure of that.”

  He narrows his eyes. “You think she told Knox?”

  “She’s the only one who benefits.”

  His scowl becomes a question mark.

  Heat burns up my neck. “If Jamie commits to Deactivation, the Reform protects him. Knox can’t claim his reproductive rights or mine because my eggs are no use without Jamie’s …” I’m too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

  “Reproductive rights? Knox wants your … to make …?”

  “To ensure the future of the Proxy base and the future of the Affinity Project. Guess stocks are low.”

  He swears under his breath. “That is messed up. I can’t believe Helena would do it. She’s always been decent. Benjamin trusted her–” he cuts short. “Sorry but it doesn’t make sense. If she wants to win Jamie back, betraying you to Knox isn’t going to score her points. Not when she’s already up against the cosmic sex.”

  I roll my eyes. “She’s not up against anything.”

  This time he gives me a sideways look.

  I purse my lips.

  He gapes. “No. Way.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “No cosmic sex?”

  “Shut up, Malcolm.”

  Davis curls his lip. “Gallagher really is an idiot.”

  I grab my knife and flick it at his head.

  He catches it, slipping to his feet with a smirk then picks up the tray, nodding at the crumbs. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  I don’t want him to go. I push up from my stool. “Um … have they found anyone else? To join the Initiative?”

  “You saw Lane down here.”

  “I didn’t think he was …”

  “A believer? No. But he’s a thinker, a fighter and he trusts Tesla sure as hell more than Knox.”

  “Are you a believer?” It slips out before I can stop myself. I don’t know if I want to hear his answer, but I hold my breath anyway.

  His irises are deep cold blue. “Well, I’m not in it for the money.”

  “Come on. I’m serious.”

  “Ugh.” He rolls his eyes. “Tesla’s been good to me. I believe in him. In you. If the cure works then it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? Knox is an asshole and–”

  “You believe in me?”

  “Ugh, don’t make it a thing. You know what I mean, you fought for this from the get-go. It’s … impressive.”

  “Impressive?”

  “Shut up.”

  I suppress a grin.

  He sends the knife flying at my head. I catch it and give a short, dry laugh. He makes for the door, trying not to smile and looks back over his shoulder. “Tesla’s told everyone to stay upstairs to give you space. The lab guys won’t bother you and there’s a medic coming to monitor your aunt.”

  I drop my arms to my sides, immediately serious. “Right. Okay.”

  He leans in the doorway to the cell block. “I’m guessing you won’t want to sleep in the barracks with your ex and his ex, then?”

  I shudder and shake my head.

  “I’ll bring some bedding down.”

  “That would be great.” I feel suddenly, stupidly, choked up. “Thanks … for dinner and,” I pick up the bottle of pills and shake it, “everything.”

  “Take it easy.” He makes his way back up the corridor to the steel sliding door. I watch him through the long bank of lab windows, playing over his words. He believes in me. From side-on his expression looks like one of heavy concentration, all humour gone. When he disappears out into the gym I wish I could have thought of something to say to make him stay.

  EAVESDROPPING

  It’s late. I can tell. They’ve turned the lights out in the gym, except for a couple of footlights on the stairs. I stand in the doorway of the cell block squinting into the deep shadow, listening. There’s no sound of movement that I can make out coming from the barracks above. I’m not close enough to hear breathing or heartbeats. I step out into the gym until I’m in range to sense signals.

  Jamie, strongest, clearest. Ethan, a close second. Davis, Lane, Helena. Jamie’s awake. I can tell by the quality of his ETR. I don’t know about the others. I’m a static-charged mess now the anxiety meds have worn off. I wish I had my phone so I could check the time. I slept for a few hours after the lab technicians came and the medic for Miriam with her soft static. I woke up sweating and jittery. I know it’s because I haven’t worked out in twenty-four hours.

  Padding barefoot across the polished wood, I’m grateful for a sense of wider space. Though I’m careful not to over think it. I don�
�t want my longing for above ground and open sky to trigger another claustrophobic freak-out. I’d love to run, sprint lengths back and forth across the gym until my legs burn, but that would make too much noise. I edge around the tumbling mat. The rowing machines and the exercycles are out of the question too. I gravitate to the thick climbing ropes as a last resort. I squint up at the recesses of the ceiling and tug on the rope to test the hold. I pull it back and forth to check for squeaking or clanking in the rafters.

  It’s probably a dumb idea given my little finger is still tender, but it bends with its neighbour when I flex my hand. I reach high above my head and grasp the thick cord and haul. It would have been easier if I’d kept my shoes on but I wanted silence on the floor. The rope chafes my soft soles and scrapes my palms. I don’t care; it’s worth it for the satisfying tension in my shoulders and thighs, the tightness of my core. I find a rhythm, pull through my arms, push through my legs.

  I make it up and down again three times, each climb faster than the last, wishing I had a watch to time myself. On my fourth pass, I’m just starting to enjoy the strain in my muscles when I reach the top and the bandwidth spikes. Jamie’s signal increases, shadowed by another. Helena. Please, no. I look over my shoulder at the viewing platform as they appear from the darkness of the low-ceilinged barracks. They dart furtive glances behind them, checking they haven’t been spotted.

  I consider shimmying down the rope and bolting back into the cell block but there’s no way to do that without being seen and the thought of being found climbing ropes in the dark feels humiliating. I dither too long. Jamie is halfway down the stairs and panic flares through my chest. Don’t tell me they’re planning to go find me in the surgery for some God-awful counselling session. It’s the middle of the night. Why would they?

  Jamie doesn’t turn for the cell block. He steps up onto the first level of tiered seating and sits. Helena climbs up beside him. Close. Jamie adjusts his position creating a distinct gap between them. I watch from the opposite side of the gym, high in the dark corner, farthest from the weak stair light, cringing and cursing, hoping the thick steel girders of the ceiling keep me obscured. Now if I shimmy down they’ll know I’ve seen them sneaking out for a private powwow. But if I stay here, what if they start talking about what happened with Knox this afternoon and one of them spots me in the dark and oh … oh, this is horrible.