Before I know it, the cart comes to a halt. "You're shadowing Professor Davis for a class period, correct?"
I don't know how he knows this information but whatever. "Yes," I respond, nearly forgetting to adopt my new voice pitch.
"Her classroom is down the nine to twelve hallway, second one on the left."
I nod and exit the cart. Then, I climb the marble steps up to the school building, which is comprised entirely of smooth brick the color terracotta. I enter through glass doors and bypass offices as I walk down the main hallway. Since I made it past the security entrance, no one stops me. I do receive a few blank stares, which I ignore as I head for the correct hallway.
Since World State prides itself on produces top class orphans into the work force, students are divided into group depending upon age. Ages five through eight are grouped together, as are ages nine through twelve, thirteen through fifteen, and sixteen and seventeen year olds. Each group learns advanced subjects that normal kids they're ages wouldn't learn until they are older.
SDP classrooms dominate this place, complete with holographic sliding door entrances and projector boards galore. I peek into classrooms as I pass, and if I cared more for technology or wasn't nervous that something was bound to go wrong at any moment, I would take a moment to admire all of the cool tech stuff.
Following the lit signs displayed on nearly every wall of the academy, I find the correct hallway and then I spot Professor Davis's classroom. Students file into the room in an orderly fashion. I watch for Abigail as I glance at my watch. Its five minutes until the class begins.
The students are dressed in uniforms. White shirts, black ties striped with thin tan and white lines, and black slacks and skirts depending on whether the student is male or female. I follow a cluster of kids who don't look like they're more than nine years old into the fairly large classroom. The SDP door automatically slides shut behind me. The students sit in desks to my left. I avoid looking that way, searching for Abigail's face for the moment.
Instead, I focus my gaze to the right where a short, dumpy sort of woman stands bent over at the waist with her huge backside in the air. This must be Professor Davis. I note how eerily silent the classroom is, a grim reminder of my own school that I can never attend again.
"Professor Davis?" I call, making sure to alter my voice to my newfound tone.
Professor Davis rises to her full height, which is not more much more than five feet so that I tower over her by a good eight inches. She has extremely wide flaming red hair but her hips are wider. She stares at me for a brief moment through dark eyes, before saying, "Miss Kent?"
I nod and she motions towards a chair next to her desk in front of a large viewscreen. "Have a seat. We'll begin shortly."
Right when I move towards the chair, the classroom door opens again. I glance back instinctively, expecting to see Abigail there. Instead, a boy with pale blond hair and gray eyes enter the classroom. He's carrying a book in his hands and he looks around with an uncaring expression. For some reason though, I get the feeling that he's a bit out of a place here.
"You must be Caleb?" Professor Davis asks.
The boy named Caleb confirms his first name with a nod, but he doesn't say anything. He only stares at Professor Davis. His eyes never even drift towards me.
"Class, we have two new people who will be joining us today," Professor Davis announces in a rather lackluster fashion. "Miss Chloe Kent is a new professor of history and will sit in on this morning's lecture." I can feel the eyes of all of the students upon me, even with my back turned. I settle into the chair that Professor Davis indicated for me earlier and I face the younger kids, my eyes automatic scanning the room for Abigail. But all of the faces look the same-expressionless.
"And this is Caleb Donovan," Professor Davis introduces the blond haired boy. "He's new to World State." She turns towards Caleb. I can see her moving out of the corner of my eyes. "Why don't you sit next to Abigail? She's fairly new here and she can assist you."
As Caleb shuffles forward, my eyes finally find my sister. And it takes everything in my power to not break character and rush over to hug her. She looks that same as I left her, except her face is more placid, a look I'm not accustomed to seeing there. It saddens and angers me that her eyes have already begun to lose their bright greenish sheen. Stupid, stupid, stupid Purge. It burns me up that Abigail's back on that crap.
When I realize that I'm narrowing my eyes in anger I cease immediately. Stay calm, I chide myself.
Caleb sits down next to Abigail and I watch as she introduces herself to him with no hint of emotion whatsoever. I pull out a pen and a notepad to take notes during the lecture. I have to continue to play my role until it's time for the next phase of the plan.
No one really uses ink and paper anymore so I'm the one who looks out of place now. But no one cares or notices that I'm using the writing utensils of revolutionaries. Besides, my fictional background information has me hailing for the United States, a place where I hope they still use pens and loose leaf.
I sit there for the next hour and a half, as Professor Davis prates on and on about history stuff I don't care about of course. I stare at Abigail nearly the entire time, looking away ever so often so I don't start seething with rage again. It's my fault why she's here.
Abigail answers most of the questions that the teacher asks. My sister was always so intelligent and always cared about scholarly stuff that I find useless. She was always studying while I ran the streets as Messenger.
Finally, the bell signals and Professor Davis tries to talk to me about the class. I hastily close the notebook where I scribbled chicken scratch all over a couple of pages. All of the students queue at the door and file out mostly in pairs. Abigail stands with Caleb at the rear of the group, her long hair tied up with a white ribbon.
Professor Davis continues to address me but I don't hear a word she says. I have to catch up with Abigail before she gets too far ahead of me.
"Professor Davis, don't you have office hours for the next period?" I ask suddenly, cutting her off like a crazed driver behind the wheel of a car.
"Yes, yes I do," she responds, not even taken aback by my rudeness.
"I'll come to speak with you in a moment but first, can you point me in the direction of the restroom?"
Direction to the bathroom barely escapes Professor Davis's lips when I take off after Abigail's retreating back, careful not to move too fast to cause suspicion. I follow Abigail out of the classroom and once again the SDP door closes behind me. The hallway is congested with students moving along to their next class. I know perfectly well where the nearest bathroom is located and I wait for Abigail to draw closer to it. Then—
"Aidan, do it now," I whisper just loud enough for me to hear my own word.
A split second later—
A loud echoing boom like an explosion sounds, freezing everyone in his or her tracks. People look around for a second, though not curiously, and then without warning—
The lights go dead.
The only person moving, I spring forward in the darkness, my eyes adjusting rapidly to the gloom. I don't wait the thirty seconds for the emergency generators to kick on. I walk up to Abigail during the confusion without confusion after the lights shut off, and place a hand on one of her shoulders. She tenses for a moment and then relaxes. But it's enough to tell me that she's still mostly herself.
"Abigail," I whisper. "It's me. Don't make any sudden movements. Don't say anything. Move. Bathroom. Now."
Abigail doesn't hesitate. She complies immediately. She tells Caleb that she'll be right back—I can just make out his pale face—and we head towards the restroom. I allow her to enter first and when Caleb looks away from me, I follow her.
We made it within the thirty second window. The generators start with a minute buzzing noise. Very dim, but enough to see fairly decently, light illuminate the restroom. I check each stall quickly to make sure that we're empty and then I turn to face my sister
.
She's staring at me with a vacant expression and I stare back at her, unable to believe that I have made it this far without something going terribly astray. Time is precious but neither one of us can react just yet. We only have a few minutes before someone blocks Aidan's access to the Grid. I need to talk to Abigail, to spill what's on my chest.
"Charlotte?" She calls as if unsure and the fact that there is uncertainty in her voice is enough to send me rushing forward towards her.
Knowing that there are not cameras in here since our cruel government still respects people's privacy even a little bit, I sweep Abigail up into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Abigail! I cry out! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for everything. I'm really sorry."
I choke back tears as her I hold her pressed tightly against me, her chest rising and falling with every breath she takes. "It's not your fault, Charlotte," she tells me, speaking words I do not believe.
"Yes it is," I say defiantly, breaking apart from her after a lengthy embrace. I stare into her eyes, eyes that are so much like mine but greener. "It's my fault that you're stuck in here and that you're back on the Purge after two years of being free from it."
To my surprise, Abigail smiles suddenly. It's a light smile but a smile just the same. "But it's not working," she reveals. Then, she chuckles suddenly, which totally takes me by surprise.
"What do you mean?" I question curiously, concerned a bit for her unexpected behavior. I anticipated that after several days of reintroducing the Purge to her system that Abigail would be in a lot of mental pain. I expected that she would already be a drone like everyone else. But I was deceived.
"The Purge," Abigail replies, still overwhelmed with the giggles. That's when I notice that her eyes are a little bit red as though she's been suffering from lack of sleep. Perhaps adjusting to a life of intense pretending around Purge addicts has affected her drastically. I don't know what I would do in her situation. It's bad enough that I'm on the run.
"What?" I ask more out of disbelief than confusion.
"I think I'm immune to the Purge," Abigail says proudly. "It's really hard pretending that the meds affect me but I've managed to pull it off so and it makes me feel wonderful." She suddenly has a crazed look in her eyes.
My eyes narrow in concern. I can see my vision thinning. "What is wrong with you, Abigail? Are you okay?"
She looks at me with a somber expression. All traces of her previous giggles have vanished in an instant. "Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"
I take her word for it, mostly because I'm so happy to see her, to be this close to her. "If you're immune to the Purge now, that's great. But what about the pain?"
"There's no pain," Abigail reveals to me. "I guess since I'm not actively fighting the Purge's influence, I'm without that negative side effect."
I study her features silently for a moment, unsure if I like her newfound immunity to the Purge. Of course I don't want her to ever become an emotionless shell again but there's something different about her now. Something I don't like.
"What's going on, Charlotte?" Abigail asks me suddenly. "What happened? Why are White Agents looking for you?"
"I'm sure you know why," I reply. "Don't they show the news here?"
Abigail nods. "They do so I do know what happened but I want to know from you what really happened. How did you get yourself involved in this mess?"
"Long story," I say hastily. "I—"
"Why keep the truth from me now?" Abigail cuts me off. "After everything we've been through."
I swallow. She has a valid point but as her big sister I still retain my complex about wanting to protect her. But does it really matter now if she found out that I moonlight as a Messenger for SAFE? I sigh heavily, staring into Abigail's bloodshot eyes. We're nearly out of time. The lights will be back on in any moment.
"I'm. . . or I was a Messenger," I admit to her finally. "I received a package from the Entity that I was to deliver to the politician Noah Emerson. I went to BioLife, found him dead, and now I'm to blame for his murder."
"You're a messenger? It all makes sense now why you said you had a courier job. I now know why you used to sneak out all the time. Why couldn't you just tell me this? I would have kept it a secret. I think our family is good at keeping secrets."
"To keep you safe," I answer her question gently. Now that Abigail knows the truth, admittedly, I feel a great relief, as though I'm no longer being crushed by a boulder the size of the island of Paradise. "I never wanted you to know in case something like this happened. Ignorance would have kept you from going down with me."
Abigail smiles suddenly, much to my surprise. "My sister. A Messenger? Wow. I'm impressed!" She laughs. "I hate it here. I'd rather be on the run with you."
"I know," I say quietly. "I'm working on it. I will get you out of here somehow. I promise." My promise sounds hollow but my resolve is resolute. I'm determined to free Abigail from this type of twisted captivity if it's the last thing I ever accomplish.
Abigail doesn't comment on that. In fact, she abruptly changes the subject. "They've taken Dad to Bio—"
"I know. I've checked on him. He's fine for now. But they're running all kinds of test on him for his cancer. Who knows what might happen . . . ." And my words trail off at the thought of losing my father at the hands of Dr. Prescott.
With a resonating hum, the lights suddenly snap on. Our time is up.
I hug Abigail quickly before someone enters the restroom. "I have to get to my next class," she mutters sadly.
"I know," I whisper back, not wanting to let her go. And then the words tumble out of me subconsciously and I know, I feel, that I mean them. "I love you."
Silence. However brief. Then—
"I love you too."
I fight back the stupid tears as we pull apart and exit the restroom. I allow Abigail a few seconds headstart. Emerging out into the crowded hallway, I watch as she returns to Caleb's side. He remained standing in the same spot waiting for Abigail to return. She glances back at me almost casually, slipping easily back into the mask that she's forced to wear all the time now. It's harder for me to peel my eyes away from her, especially after telling her I love her.
With my notebook tucked beneath one of my arms and the pen stuffed somewhere between the pages, I finally turn away as Abigail heads in the opposite direction. I don't head for Professor Davis's office. Instead, I make my way towards the exit, ready to leave this place behind until it's time for me to come back and rescue Abigail.
As students enter classrooms, the traffic starts to thin considerably. I quickly find myself alone, the sound of my heels clicking against the computerized linoleum my only company other than my thoughts. The few precious minutes that I got to spend with Abigail were worth it. I only wish we had more time. We will soon, I tell myself. Then we'll break our father out of BioLife and the three of us will figure out how to survive somewhere other than here perhaps. Maybe we can even smuggle Scarlett out of prison.
Echoing footsteps up ahead nearly causes me to cease my stride. Someone's approaching. I was wondering if the lights going dead would all of the guards to come out of hiding. I hadn't encountered a single one since I entered the front gate. The lack of security still bothers me.
I walk on cautiously. No matter who's up ahead, he or she won't know who I really am. All I have to do is make it out of the building, across the campus, and into the hopefully waiting taxicab, and it will be mission complete. I'm almost out of here and then it's back to living in my hidey hole because I really don't trust staying at Lilly's anymore.
The footsteps up ahead grow louder in volume as the unknown person draws nearer. I pass several hallways running perpendicular to this one and I consider heading down each one I walk past. I stare ahead of me and one glance at the pristine uniform of a White Agent coming around the corner is all I need to spin around and backtrack to the closest connecting corridor.
I hear a clattering sound as I turn away but I don't stop to investigate. Of all
the people I could run into right now, it just had to be a blasted White Agent. I walk briskly but not too fast. I'm sure I've already caught his attention. In fact, I hear him call out suddenly in a flat voice. "Excuse me."
He's talking to me! I ignore him and make a left turn disappearing from view. I'm tempted to run now but he's following me and it'll look really suspicious if I'm suddenly at the end of this hallway when he arrives at the intersection behind me. I continue at my current pace, praying that this hallway will lead me to an exit or at least back to the central passageway.
The footsteps behind me pick up their pace a bit. I consider once again speeding up my own walk as I think fast of an improvised escape route. I dart past classrooms packed with students and teachers. None of them are empty and I haven't stumbled across a restroom or any other vacant rooms.
The corridor stretches on forever. I continue forward, desperate for a way out. "Excuse me," the White Agent tries again, this time a little louder. I fight the urge to glance back as I press on and—
With a gasp, I realize that I've made a huge mistake. I've chosen the wrong hallway. This one is about to come to a dead end in a few more paces. Crap.
I halt and turn around to face my pursuer. I have no other choice.
The White Agent slows his stride as he approaches me. I tense, wondering if I can take him one-on-one if it came down to it. Again, I remind myself that there's no way in hellfire that he would be able to recognize me from all of the wanted billboards flashing in all of its monochromatic glory throughout the island. But if he does, then I'm ready to fight if I have to . . . .
Shadows conceal his face temporarily. But when he steps into triangular glow of natural light from outside that's streaming into one of the windows lining the hall, his visage basks in the bright effulgence. At once, I recognize that raven-black hair and those amazing blue eyes. It's him. The boy from the monorail!
He stops in front of me and my heart races since he's this close to me. I tighten my face so he won't spot the star struck look of relief that certainly popped up on my face when I recognized him. He extends a hand. "Here, you dropped this."
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