by J. Andersen
“What’s wrong? I thought it had to be a message from you.”
“It was a message, but it wasn’t from me. It was for me.”
I eye him. I want to trust him, but honestly, I don’t even know why I’m here. The guy tried to abduct me. There’s no reason I should be anywhere near him. But my gut tells me there’s more to this story. Maybe it was the turtle. Granted, I thought it was from him, but either way, if it really means I’ll be protected, then there’s nothing to worry about.
Micah nods and tries to smile, but the motion must hit a nerve because his eyes clench shut and he’s silent for a second before regaining his composure. His voice turns to a whisper. “Apparently the bounty is off your head now.”
“Good to know. Save someone from bleeding to death, avoid rotting in a prison for the rest of my life.”
“No. It was called off before you saved me.”
Beads of sweat pop onto my skin, and I can’t stop my hands from trembling. If I was safe from the rebels before Micah and I went to the Outer Lands, then why did he try to capture me? I back toward the door one step at a time.
“Kate, please. Let me explain. They were too late.”
Too late. That sounds familiar. The man in the truck flashes into my head. “Sorry we weren’t quicker.” He wasn’t speaking to me. It was a message for Micah.
Every breath seems too thick to inhale. I’m trying to hold myself together while I finagle the pieces of this ever deepening puzzle. “Micah, I need some serious answers.”
“You’ll get them. I promise. Let me get out of this place, and I’ll tell you everything.” Micah’s hand covers mine. The movement surprises me, and all I can do is look down at his hand resting on mine. He squeezes it gently and lets go.
“It’s going to be okay, Kate. Right as rain.”
Gran’s voice enters my thoughts. “I like this one. Don’t you worry.” Gran wouldn’t lie to me. I know I can trust her. And because she says Micah is okay, I’ll take her word for it and give him a chance to explain.
As if he knows I’m thinking about Gran, he says, “Your gran is remarkable. You didn’t have to make her do the pretending thing, you know, but it was amazing how she just switched back into her ranting as soon as she saw that nurse. She’s really quite creative. And quick!”
I play along with this new cheerful topic only because I don’t think I can handle anything else right now. Only this isn’t much better. “Yeah, she’s been doing that for years. I guess it’s become a habit for me, too.” I don’t know what to say after that. In the few minutes I’ve been watching the sight playing out in front of me, my entire belief that I was the only one Gran trusted with her secret has been blown to bits.
“I’m really sorry, Micah. You know, for trying to beat your head in with a rock.”
This makes him smile. “Well, I suppose I deserved it.” He touches his forehead where the stitches form a line to his temple. “You pack a hell of a punch.”
This time it’s my turn to smile. “Gran always told me to put my all into whatever I was doing.” I look everywhere but Micah’s face. But then I can’t stand it any longer. I stare right into the swollen bubbles that still surround his eyes. The skin has turned from black to a purplish hue with traces of yellow around the edges where it’s started to heal. “How long have you known my gran?”
“Since I came onto this job.” And that’s it. Apology over. If that exchange can count for an apology in the first place.
“And what job is that exactly?”
“Like I said, let’s not talk about that here.”
“Then it looks like we have a lot of talking to do when you’re released,” I say.
“Yes, we do. In the meantime, you’re going to be getting a visit from the soldiers in charge of the incident report.” I lower my voice as quiet as I can with him still being able to hear me. “Please tell me you have the day pass allowing us to be in the Outer Lands.”
“Of course. The paperwork has been filed already. Well, at least it will be by the time they look for it in the data system. I have people covering our tracks.”
“Now we just have to hope they don’t inquire with my family.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I told them I was picnicking with you. I didn’t realize we had to have an alibi for our alibi.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll cover it. I know people, remember?”
“So you say.”
Before I can pull away, Micah’s hand covers mine again, and his serious look urges me to believe him. “I’ll explain everything. Soon.”
I nod, not knowing how to respond. “I have to go.”
“Kate?” Micah calls as I near the door. “Thanks for coming to check on me.”
I nod again because it’s the only thing that seems right. “Sorry about your face.”
He tries to smile, but it makes him wince again.
Walking out the door, my mind is a whir of thoughts. I’ll explain everything, he’d said. I’m not sure I want to know it all.
TWENTY FOUR
PRIDE
THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY AFTER my humanities class, I head to the hospital to visit Micah. I want some answers, and the quicker he recovers, the faster I’ll get them. Every day he’s improving though the concussion I gave him has been giving him nasty headaches. The first few days he slept most of the time. Dr. Rosenberg, who treated him, told me that Micah was to have no stimulation. Not even reading—nothing visual at all. Which pretty much means no thinking. How do you get a guy who works in a research lab practically all hours in the day to not think? Being in the hospital is good for him because there is absolutely nothing for him to do except stare at the walls.
When I get to his room, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and Dr. Rosenberg is giving him instructions. “Your shirt was too stained to be any good, so we had it destroyed. You’ve been given some loaner clothing since we couldn’t reach anyone at your home to bring you something to wear.”
“I live alone, Doctor.”
Dr. Rosenberg jots a note in his compact. “Do you have someone to assist you home?”
Micah gives him a sarcastic look. “I figured if you were releasing me I’d be okay to go on my own.”
The doctor looks up with a straight face. “It would be beneficial to you if you had some help. You’re fine to leave now, but you are still restricted from activities for another week. Activities like driving.”
“I’ll walk,” Micah says.
I step up and tap the doctor on the shoulder. “I can help.”
He barely glances at me. “And you are?”
“A friend,” Micah says. “It’s okay, Doc. I trust her.” His eyes, when he says that, are soft and almost pleading. I don’t argue.
“Very well, then,” the doctor says as he backs out of the room. “You’re free to go, Mr. Pennington. As long as your friend assists you.” His head rises from his work to actually look at me. Then he leaves.
Micah leans forward and stands up. “I don’t need any—” His hand shoots toward his forehead and his other arm steadies himself on the bed. “Whoa.”
“Right, you don’t need any help.” I grab his arm to help him stand again.
“Just got up too fast. I’m fine.” He blinks a few times and heads toward the door. But when he reaches the doorway, he closes his eyes again. “Okay, maybe a little help getting home would be good.”
“Nurse!” When she arrives, I ask for a wheelchair to wheel Micah out of the hospital. Once we’re in the parking lot, I realize his truck won’t be here. We drove it to the Outer Lands and returned in someone else’s vehicle.
“Micah, your truck?”
“Over there.” He points to the middle of the lot with the keys he holds in his hand. Seeing the confusion on my face he adds, “I’ll explain later.”
As I wheel him toward the vehicle and help him into the passenger seat, my eyes grow big, and I try to comprehend how his truck ended up here. He directs as I drive him to his house.
Once I’ve helped Micah to his couch, I take a seat in the chair across the room.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m fine now.”
I don’t move. “Mind telling me how your truck came to be at the hospital parking lot when we left it at the picnic grounds?”
His eyes avoid mine as he shifts into a more comfortable position.
“It’s a long story. One I’m not at liberty to tell.”
“Why not? What happened to, ‘You can trust me, Kate’? If I can trust you, you should be able to trust me, don’t you think? And you told me you’d explain things.”
He fidgets with his hands. “Kate, I want to tell you, I do, but I don’t want to put you in any danger.”
“How could telling me how your truck got back possibly put me in any danger?” I roll my eyes. “It’s not like you have a secret group of friends living in some underground city or something, ready to do your bidding.”
His eyes widen, but he says nothing.
“Oh. My. Goodness. You have a secret group of friends living in an underground city.”
He nods, finally speaking. “Pretty much.”
“All those stories I heard as a kid about the Natural Born? The rebels?”
“True.”
“And that stuff you told me in the forest just after I cracked your head open?”
“Also true.”
“So, what? You live in some secret community and sneak into our town like little fairies or trolls or something?”
“Kind of. Only without the wings or warts.” He smiles, but seeing my shock and confusion at his confession, it fades. Then he shakes his head. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this.” Our eyes meet, and he sighs. “We have a few entrances to the city. When we need to go back and forth, we use them, but visitations have to stay at a minimum so The Institute doesn’t find out. They’re desperate to find us and wipe us out.”
“So, they don’t know about you? Being a Natural Born, I mean.”
“Nope. And I’d like to keep it that way.” He shifts again on the couch, stuffing a pillow behind his head.
“Those guys you called?”
“Yeah?”
“They were NBRs, weren’t they?”
He nods. “As soon as I was conscious, I sent a message to them telling them to get my truck.”
“How’d you send a message?”
“That I won’t tell you. I won’t compromise anyone else.”
“So, if you’re really from some secret village, is this even your house? Do you even live here?”
There’s the look again. The guilty-as-charged look.
Now I’m getting irritated and cross my hands over my chest. “Seriously? You need to spill.”
He sighs. “Okay, here’s the shortened version: remember when we were talking about the accident that mangled my face and stuff?”
“Yeah. Our first date.”
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
Now I’m thoroughly confused. “What do you mean it wasn’t you?”
“The kid in that accident died. I took his place.” He pauses, letting the words sink in.
“Wha—? You replaced him? So, if you’re not Micah Pennington, who are you and how did you get here without being noticed? It’s not like you can just take over someone’s life without any complications.”
“Remember, the kid was mangled beyond recognition. My people were able to slip me in, after battering my face up pretty good.” He grimaces at the memory. “Had a few friends who enjoyed that. Anyway, we have NBRs and sympathizers all over, Kate. Even in the hospital. Micah’s death was the perfect opportunity to plant another Natural Born in the society. My only regret is that no one knew the kid died. No one was able to mourn his passing because, in their eyes, I am him.”
“But don’t you look different? How is it possible that no one noticed? It’s not like he was your twin or anything.”
He points to his face. “Messed up, remember. I guess I sort of looked like him. When they put me back together, of course I was going to look a little different, but we were similar enough that people believed it. The Penningtons don’t have any extended family around here. So the only ones we had to worry about were some friends. But since I was under the care of Sector 4 for over a year, the friendships kind of dwindled. The real Micah’s friends had been assigned to study elsewhere.”
“So who are you then? What’s your name?”
“I’m Micah Pennington. That’s all you need to know right now. I’m not going to compromise what’s going on here. Not now. But I promise I’ll tell you someday.”
It all starts to come together in my mind. “And the park? That first night I ran into you? You were following me weren’t you?”
“Yes, but once I saw you were assigned to my lab unit, there was no need for that. I could keep my eyes on you without making you paranoid. The problem was the more time I spent with you, the more I liked you. I … I … mean. That’s not a problem for me, but it was for the original plan.” He shakes his head a little and laughs at himself. “As soon as I realized it, I sent word to my superiors canceling the order on you. It was a long shot, but I hoped to convince them you could be an asset. There was still no response the day we went to the Outer Lands, the day I had planned to … well, you know. So I had to go through with it. Now I know they not only got my message, but relented.”
“The turtle?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, I didn’t get their response in time. Hence the botched abduction. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. Sometimes even our best intentions fail miserably.”
Micah’s shoulders slump, and he has a blank look on his face. For the first time since I met him, he seems broken. Here is a guy who is more intelligent than most, keeping secrets, and putting himself in harm’s way in order to be a liaison for the resistance; and he’s bested by an ancient and slow communication system. It would be comical if it weren’t so dangerous.
“So the turtle really does mean what I think it does?”
“Yes. It’s my people’s way of saying that a person will be protected by the resistance. If it’s found, people will only see a folded turtle, but anyone associated with the resistance knows what it means.”
This is all too overwhelming. If Micah replaced someone in our community, and he was originally sent to abduct me, then someone was out there waiting to replace me. I don’t think I can hear any more of this. It’s a lot to take in all at once.
“Look, Kate,” Micah says. “I know this is a lot, but when I’m feeling better, I’d like to take you somewhere and explain some things. I think it’ll ease your mind a bit.”
“Take me where?”
“To the Hidden City.”
TWENTY FIVE
MORE UNVIABLE
THE NEXT TIME I see Micah is on my break between classes a week later. He was home with strict hospital orders to rest, so he didn’t return to work for a few days, but I called him every few hours to apologize; he did the same. I can’t help it if my crazy, impulsive side got the better of me that day in the woods. He did try to capture me, so I figure I at least had a good reason to defend myself.
I’m headed to the library to work when I see him waiting for me inside the main doors.
“Hey, your face looks better.”
He touches his forehead where the purpled specks still show through the yellowed blotch on his head. “Feels better. A little tender still, but better. You’re a great shot. I swear that rock was the size of my head.” He manages a small smile, but there’s something wrong. He’s not himself.
“Thanks for rubbing it in.”
His hand trembles as he takes mine. “Come here. I need to s
how you something.” Glancing around as we enter the stacks, he leads me to the back corner near my favorite study spot, but we don’t stay there. Around the stacks at the far end, tucked just behind my corner is a door leading to a storage room. Putting a finger to his lips to shush me, he turns the handle and pulls me inside.
“Micah, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“Shhh. Just let me—”
Without warning, his lips crush mine, and we’re entangled in each other’s arms, barely breathing, searching for the sense of reality that comes from each other’s touch. The questions about his obvious fear evaporate in our embrace.
Then he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, leaving his hands resting on either side of my neck.
“What was that for?”
“To say I’m sorry one more time. I needed to feel you in my arms and prove to myself that you’re safe.”
Now I’m confused. “You saw me just the other day. Why wouldn’t I be safe? Other than you and your friends trying to get rid of me.”
He offers me a sarcastic look. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Nope.”
His eyes meet mine as he gathers his breath and brushes my hair away from my face. His hands are warm and rough, but his touch is tender as he runs his thumb over my cheek. “They made the decision to dispose of an adult today.”
I’d back away if the door weren’t holding me in place. “What? What are you talking about? The Institute only disposes of unviable infants and the few Wombers left.”
“Not anymore.”
He steps next to me, and we both slide down the wall until we’re sitting on the cold cement floor of the storage room. “Today was my first day back at work, and I was prepping the lab when one of the doctors from the long-term care facility came in. He was looking for Professor Donovan. Said he had an order straight from Fishgold. When I heard that name, I knew something was up, so after I brought the guy to Donovan, I eavesdropped.”
“Micah, are you crazy? If they’d caught you listening, they could have …” I don’t need to say it. We both know.