by J. Andersen
“Why’s that?”
“Because she’s as strong as an ox and can crack a rib if she’s not careful.”
“So, who takes care of her?”
“Her parents do. And the rest of us. Kate, don’t you see? No matter what The Institute says is wrong with people, they have something to give. We shouldn’t destroy that. It’s why we refuse to kill to replace people. All life is precious.” The main street curves, and when we turn the corner, he grabs my hand again. “Here, I want to show you something.” His gray eyes are duller here, like the sunlight lightens them when we’re above ground, but I see a spark as he guides me through the doorway of a shop front. A little bell dings as we open the door, and an old man with wire-rimmed glasses greets us.
“Micah! Long time no see.”
“Hey, Silas. Brought a friend today.”
“I can see that. Pretty one.” He smiles at me, and the wrinkles near his eyes crease. Grabbing a cane that hangs on the edge of the counter, he limps around in an effort to be helpful. “What’re you looking for?”
“Classics. Don’t bother getting up. I know where to find them.”
The walls are lined with shelves and covered with books, and I wonder why Micah brought me to a library. But as we’re passing the shelves, I reach out my hand like I so often do in our above-ground library, letting the books slip under my fingertips. I gasp at the touch.
Micah looks at me and smiles as the realization sinks in. “These are real books!” I say, almost not believing my own eyes.
“Sure are.” A contented smile settles on his face. “Silas saved most of them when The Institute planned on getting rid of them all and replacing everything with technology. That’s another thing your gran discovered for us, from what I hear. I wasn’t around then. Long before my time here.”
My hands drift back to the cool, smooth spines. I can feel the imprint of the lettering, and feel the bumpy texture of a leather-bound anthology. I wonder which of these very same books my great-grandmother has read. Which stories she told me as a child came from the pages that line these shelves. My fingers clasp around a worn binding frayed at the edge, and I pull it off the shelf. Its pages crack lightly as I pry them apart and breathe in the most unusual scent. Like trees and sunshine. I inhale again, not wanting to forget the smell that reminds me of her.
“I knew you’d like this place,” Micah says.
“This is amazing! Can you take these books out, like at a real library?”
“Not only that,” Micah says, “you can keep them.”
When my eyes grow wide, he continues, “It’s a bookstore, Kate. You purchase these to keep.”
I’m silent for a moment, taking in what he just said. It’s incomprehensible to have a treasure like this in my own home, so I don’t try to understand. Instead, I turn back to the books. “Have you read all these?”
Micah shakes his head. “Not all, but some.”
I hold the book in my hands out to him. “This one?”
His fingers brush mine as he takes it from my hand, and I’m sure they linger a little longer than necessary.
“Fahrenheit 451” He reads the title. “Good choice.”
“What happens?”
“The government uses firemen to set fire to all the books in a society, and they punish anyone who reads.”
This piques my interest, and a story Dad told me years ago pops into my mind. The leaders of our town did the same thing when they chose technology over these pages.
Micah sees the look on my face, and his head cocks in recognition.
“At least we’re still allowed to read,” I say, knowing he knows what I’m thinking.
A sigh escapes his lips. “Only what they want us to read.”
I suppose this is true since these titles are unfamiliar to me, but our leaders couldn’t possibly want to control us like that. Even if their methods are unconventional and they do want to keep the people in line, what possible purpose could they have by restricting our reading? Even if I don’t agree with The Institute’s methods, they’re only trying to do what it takes to create a safe community. “So what happens?”
Micah hands the worn pages back to me. “Read it and find out,” he says.
I drop the book on the counter and reach into my pocket to dig out a few bills, but Silas raises his hand and shakes his head, his loose gray hair falling into his eyes. “No, young lady. No charge for the first one.” He flashes me a crooked smile as I thank him and tuck the novel into my back pocket. Then he notices the pendant around my neck. “Where’d you get that necklace? It’s unique.”
“My great grandmother gave it to me. Used to be hers.”
“Ah,” he says.
Just then the bells above the door clink, and a breathless guy barges through. “Micah!” he yells. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You were supposed to be back hours ago.” His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat. As he reaches up, he slicks the hair back, revealing concerned eyes.
“My meeting with the elders isn’t till later.”
The guy shakes his head. Micah’s smile disappears, and his stone face returns.
“It’s Ally,” the boy says.
Micah’s entire body tenses as he looks at me then back to the boy.
“She’s going early.”
Without hesitation, Micah’s through the door followed by his friend. I look to Silas, who says, “You better hurry or you’ll get lost around here.”
I push through the door just in time to see Micah round the corner of the block and rush down a dark alley. He’s forgotten me. I feel lost and out of place as I hurry after him. I shouldn’t be here. Now, with Micah rushing off, I’m like the third wheel.
In the distance, I see Micah glance back. We make eye contact, and he shouts something to the boy and points to me. At least he hasn’t entirely forgotten I exist.
In a huff, the guy jogs back to me and grabs my hand. “Come on,” he says before I have time to protest. “Micah’s going on ahead. I’ll show you the way.”
“And you are?” I tug my hand away. It’s not that I want to be rude, but I try not to make a habit of holding hands with strange guys, and, this friend of Micah’s certainly fits into that category. Heck, anyone who lives in this underground city fits into that category.
“Jaxon Salinger.” He thrusts out his hand in an official greeting. “No relation to J. D.” His smile is wide, but the obvious confusion on my face ends his joking. “Never mind,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Tentatively, I follow him down the alley. We rush through a maze of streets, occasionally cutting through a building to reach our destination. Much like at The Institute, many of these buildings are interconnected. This one’s made of whitewashed bricks, and I wonder where they found the materials to build such a massive structure, much less build it underground. It sure would be difficult to smuggle this many cement blocks. In a way, it reminds me of The Institute, which makes sense when I read the Hospital sign hanging over the doorway. The further we venture into the building, the more primitive the surroundings become. The front is clean and white—sanitary looking—but the back rooms are separated by wooden planks instead of the cement bricks I saw up front. Obviously, the people building this hospital ran out of materials halfway through. They probably couldn’t find enough to finish it.
Jaxon is still a few steps away from me, but every few minutes he turns to make sure I’m right behind him. “It’s just around the corner,” he states, turning to the left.
When I round the corner, he’s there holding a door open for me. Down the dimly lit hallway, Micah paces. The sign on the wall makes my heart drop.
Maternity Ward.
“Wait here,” Jaxon says. He motions to a rickety chair in the corner. A makeshift waiting room. “I’ll see what’s going on.” He starts to go, but I stop him.
> “Wait, Jaxon.”
He looks at me, and I stare back, silent. I can’t formulate a thought much less a sentence. There’s too much to take in here. Hidden pathways, real books, underground buildings, and Micah in a maternity ward.
“Sorry we had to meet in such rushed circumstances.” He shrugs and puts his hands up as if to say, there’s nothing I could do about it.
***
It’s odd sitting in a hospital maternity ward, and I wonder if this is what it’ll be like to wait for my own son to be born if the circumstances were different. At first, I’m relaxed. However, Jaxon and Micah’s voices echo down the hallway.
“How’s she doing?” Jaxon asks.
“Not well.” Micah’s trying to stay calm, but the shaking in his voice gives way to his fear. “The doctor says there are complications with the baby. If they don’t figure it out soon, Ally could die, too.”
I stand up and move to the edge of the alcove. I don’t want to intrude, but I have to see what’s going on.
The moment I peek my head around to catch a glimpse of Micah, I see him slink to the floor and rest his head in his hands. Jaxon stands above him looking like he doesn’t know what to do. I’m about to rush to Micah, to tell him it will be okay and put my arms around him. I’ll let him grieve.
Jaxon leans down and places a hand on Micah’s shoulder. “Hey, man. Ally’s going to be fine. She’s a tough girl.”
“Micah?” I want to ask if everything is okay, but clearly, it isn’t. I slog toward him, cautious of the unknown.
He scampers up and rushes to me before I can say another word. “Kate. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”
“Who’s Ally?”
“My sister. She’s having a baby and something’s wrong.”
“Having a baby?”
He shakes his head and guides me by the elbow toward the door. “Yes, only something’s wrong. The doctors are working now.”
He points toward the door with the glass window. All I can see is the glint of the light off of a scalpel in the doctor’s hand. It’s moving toward a distended belly exposed through hospital sheeting.
“What are they going to do to her?”
“They’re going to get the baby out.”
TWENTY EIGHT
JUST LIKE BATCH 4
Code of Conduct and Ethics: The Institute—Sector 4, USA
Section 3 Article 1.0: Each individual shall conduct him or herself with the utmost modesty. Proper attire is required at all times. Clothing shall cover all intimate parts of the body. Only arms and legs (below the knees) are allowed to be visible.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘get the baby out’?”
“Right. I forget you’ve never seen a pregnant woman. The baby was inside Ally, Kate. The way things used to be before The Institute’s birthing practices rendered women barren and took over the life-building process with science and test tubes.”
“You mean she’s actually birthing a baby from her own body?”
“Well, sort of. The doctors are removing it from her.”
“They can do that?”
“Let’s hope so.”
Minutes slip by into hours. Micah, Jaxon, and I take turns keeping post outside the operating room doors. Even when it’s Jaxon’s or my turn and we insist Micah get some rest, he refuses to leave. Instead, he pulls a rickety chair into the hallway and sits sideways, half curled, nodding in and out of sleep.
In the wee hours of the morning—I know only because I’ve been watching the clock on the wall tick by second by second—a doctor exits the room. The dark circles under his eyes are evidence of a long night, and his slumped shoulders give away his exhaustion.
“She’s going to be okay,” he says.
Micah perks up. “And the baby?”
“Is fine.”
Letting out a huge breath, Micah finally relaxes. “When can we see her?”
“Ally’s resting now. She’ll probably be pretty sore for a while, but you can visit after she sleeps. Come back this afternoon.”
“I’ll wait here.” Micah sits in the chair he’s leaned against the wall.
Jaxon crosses his arms. “Micah, really? There’s nothing more you can do. Go back to Silas’s and get some rest. We can come back in the morning.”
Jaxon’s voice of reason breaks through Micah’s overprotective-brother-barrier, and he relents.
“Tell Silas we’re coming.”
Jaxon shakes the doctor’s hand and is off in a flash. Micah looks at me.
“Not exactly the homecoming celebration I was hoping for. If you need, I’ll get you back to The Institute.”
“Micah, I’m not going anywhere. It’s the weekend. No one will be looking for me.”
“We hope. In that case, let’s get a little rest.”
****
I sleep on a guest bed in a tiny house attached to the back of the bookshop. Micah takes a couch in the reception area, so I don’t notice when he leaves.
Silas wakes me after what seems like only minutes. He pushes his glasses up on his nose with his middle finger and leans against his cane. “Micah went on ahead. He’s sending his friend, Jaxon to get you and bring you to the hospital to meet his sister. Jaxon will be here soon, so you should get ready. I’ll get you something to drink. How does a latte sound?”
“Great. Thanks,” I manage to whisper through my morning grogginess.
He turns and walks back to the front of the store. I brush my hair into submission with my fingers and run my tongue over my teeth. What I wouldn’t give for a toothbrush right now. Splashing water on my face wakes me up a bit. My clothes are wrinkled from sleeping in them, but I don’t have any other options at this point.
In the distance, Silas is making a clatter. Meanwhile, I find my way back to the bookshop and settle down into a ratty old chair with huge, threadbare cushions and wait for Jaxon. I kinda like it here. It’s quaint and homey.
I flip open the pages of Fahrenheit 451, the book I got from Silas yesterday. Soon, I’m so engrossed in the story, I don’t even notice Silas’s voice from around the stacks. “You can’t go over there, Jessica.”
“Why not, Silas? I deserve to know if it would have worked.”
“It’s not right. She shouldn’t know. Not now. She’s been through a lot, and Micah’s not here with her.”
“That’s because Micah’s an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing. I do.”
When I hear Micah’s name, my ears perk up. Silas offers one last ditch effort when he says, “Jessica, don’t!” but it’s not before I see her standing at the end of the row of bookshelves. She’s only there a second before she rushes out of the building, sending the bell above the doorway into a fit of rage, but it’s long enough to see what I needed to see. She is me. Down to the hair style, and height and even the high cheekbones I swear only my family has. It was like looking in a mirror. But then she disappeared. Mirror shattered.
Minutes later, I’m still trying to piece together what I saw when Silas returns with a latte and a blueberry muffin. “Thought you might be hungry. Hope you like blueberries.”
“Blueberries are great.”
As he hands me the drink, I watch his face. Its wrinkles carve deep lines into his cheeks and forehead, and the crow’s feet around his eyes soften what were once angry eyes. Sure, he’s the sweet old bookshop guy now, but hidden beneath his withered features, lays a man with passion and fortitude. In his younger days, I’ll bet he was one to be reckoned with. I’m not sure how I know this, but deep inside me, I’m convinced it’s true.
Silas lowers himself into the seat next to me and hangs the cane over the arm of the chair.
“Who was that?”
“That was Jessica.”
“Seems like a peach.”
A loud chuckle bursts through Silas’s l
ips. “Something like that.”
Before he can explain any more, the bell rings again, announcing another visitor. This one I know.
“Morning! Micah’s waiting for you at the hospital. I’m his lackey, sent to rescue you from the clutches of the old man.” Jaxon grins.
Shaking his head, Silas stands, balancing on his cane. “In case you’re wondering, yes, he is always like this.” As he passes Jaxon, he pats him on the shoulder.
I stuff the last of the muffin in my mouth and chase it with a hot swig of latte. “Let’s go.”
We’re barely out the door when I ask him about the girl. “What do you know about someone named Jessica?”
Jaxon licks his lips and casts me a sideways glance. “Jessica. Um, she’s headstrong and gorgeous and slightly psychotic and gorgeous and a little frightening and gorgeous and—”
“My replacement.”
“Right. Yep. That, too.” He slows our pace to a crawl.
My lips press together, and I touch my cheekbones, wondering what he thinks when he looks at me because, in my one quick glance, I swore I was looking in a mirror. I wonder what she looked like before and how many surgeries she had to go through to look just like me.
It must be strange for him seeing me look like her, a girl he’s obviously in love with. But when he looks at me, even though I know I should feel uncomfortable, I don’t. I’m still a stranger to him.
“You two do look a lot alike. But her nose is different, and her eyes are a different shade of brown. You’re not her … or she’s not you … or whatever. If I were on the surface, I’d be able to tell you two apart faster than a rabbit can ... well, never mind.”
After a few more streets, we reach the hospital, and Jaxon shows me to Ally’s hospital room. Micah’s waiting, coffee in hand.
“Looks like Jax didn’t scare you off yet.” He hands me the drink and leans in to kiss my forehead.
“I tried,” Jaxon says, “but like most women, she finds me charming.”