by Lisa Jade
“I don’t trust her. We need to do something.”
Pan sighs again.
“What do you want me to do, Jensen? Tie up and cross-examine every person who comes near us?”
“I don’t mean that. But maybe we should run her DNA through the public database, just in case.”
“Fine. If it’s the only way to get you to drop it, we’ll do that.”
She pulls away, passing me the rag. I take it to dab at the bloodstains on my jacket. While it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve walked around covered in blood, it probably wouldn’t look great if I returned to the Mill like this.
“Noah,” Pan says, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind us doing a test.”
I pause, lowering the rag to my lap. Any other time, I’d say no. I’d pull away and refuse. But there’s something about her, about the way she holds herself, the way her smile is both gentle and gutsy at the same time – I can’t help but trust her.
“Sure. What test?”
“It’s a blood test. We just want to check that you are who you say you are, by checking your DNA against the Citizen System.”
I don’t bother to ask what the Citizen System is. Instead I draw back, suspicion building.
“Blood test?”
She nods.
“Yep. Just one prick of your finger with a needle, and we can check it. Takes thirty seconds and won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”
“What are you hoping to find?” I ask, finally garnering the confidence to raise my voice a little.
“Simple. The System has the stored DNA data of everyone in Thorne. If you’re from the city, when we check your DNA you’ll show up, and we’ll know exactly who you are.”
“But I’m not from the city,” I point out, “so I won’t be on your System.”
She seems to mull this over for a moment, chewing idly on her bottom lip.
“True. I suppose that’ll prove it.”
“Fine. I don’t get it, but sure. It’s just blood, right?”
Jensen sits me down on a metallic bench and prods the very tip of my finger with a needle. I find it hard to hide my surprise that he does it so easily – my hands are thick with scar from years of physical work, and it seems strange that a needle could pierce my skin so well.
As Jensen steps away to fiddle with something on one of the many computers, Pan takes a seat next to me.
“Do you mind if I ask something?”
“Sure.”
She tosses her head back, nudging a crimson lock from her face.
“You don’t seem fazed by any of this. I think that’s why Jensen is so on edge. You didn’t seem scared when you got attacked by Luse and the others, or when we brought you in here and took your blood. It’s kind of suspicious that you would be so relaxed about this when none of it makes any sense to you.”
I give a small shrug. I don’t feel like explaining life at the Mill to her. I only care about getting this over with and leaving with the sunrise.
“It’s not that I’m not surprised,” I mutter, “I just figure it’s easier not to freak myself out by questioning things all the time.”
She watches me closely, and there’s a strange expression akin to sadness on her face.
“You never question… anything?”
“What’s the point? It’s easier for everyone if we just get on with it.”
At that she looks away, breaking the strange eye contact she’s been holding with me. I don’t know what she’s thinking. Perhaps she’s looking down on me with pity or sorrow, full of sympathy for the poor, stupid farm girl who doesn’t understand the world around her. Maybe she’s annoyed. Perhaps I’ve done or said something that’s offensive to her. Frankly, I don’t care. I’m looking forward to getting out of here.
I toy idly with my thumbs, grazing them over one another. I can feel the ridges in my skin, the scars on my knuckles that are so familiar at this point. Although it’s hard work, there’s a strong sense of satisfaction that comes with manual labour. I can feel a rush of anticipation. I can’t wait to get home. Back to the Mill. Back to my crappy little camp bed right underneath that hole. I don’t care if it rains for a week once I get back. I’ll happily lie in the rain-soaked bunk without a word of complaint.
I’ve only been gone a few days, but it feels like much longer. There’s an odd feeling in my stomach, a swirling, churning sensation that I now recognise as homesickness. I just want to get back and see Nel and Kane –
Oh.
My hands tighten as I remember his face. Stupid kid. He could have done well. He could have learned the joy that comes from a hard day’s work. But for whatever reason, he threw it away.
That night on the boat hasn’t completely wiped away my fear. There’s nothing I can do about it now, no reason to look back and dissect his actions from that day. The guilt’s still there, though, filling me like smoke, mixing with the homesickness to become something black and foul-feeling.
“So,” Pan continues, “What’s it like at the Mill?”
“It’s okay. Hard work.”
She puffs out her cheeks. Typical. Here, they can afford the luxury of being unimpressed by my lack of conversational skills. But if I don’t need to say it, then why should I?
“Oh my god.”
Jensen’s standing over the console, his eyes fixed on the screen. I can’t see what it says; I don’t think it would make much sense to me anyway. But his eyes are wide, and his jaw has dropped, and suddenly my stomach shifts. Something’s wrong.
Beside me, Pan groans.
“Calm down, Jensen. What is it?”
He turns, his eyes shifting from the console to me. I can feel his face travelling the length of my body. It’s uncomfortable, and I shuffle away a little. Eventually his eyes settle on my face, and he finally manages to pull his mouth shut.
“I should have known. Same eyes.”
Pan huffs.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
When he speaks, his voice is unsteady, unsure, like he’s both scared and happy at the same time.
“This girl… it’s Ada.”
Pan gasps and jumps to her feet. Her face is the picture of shock, and she pulls away from me like she’s scared I might bite her.
“No way. That’s impossible. Are you messing with me?”
Jensen gestures towards the console.
“Look for yourself, if you don’t believe me.”
She does as she’s told, scurrying over to the console where she stands frozen.
“Damn. You’re right.”
He sits next to me, one hand reaching over and grasping mine. The motion is so far removed from what I’ve seen from him that I wrench my hand from his grip.
“What? What’s going on?”
My mind races. What could they have seen when they ran the scan? What’s Ada and what does it mean to be one? Is there something wrong with me? Are they going to attack?
But then I look at Jensen. His brows are furrowed, his eyes filled with concern. He leans forward, and when he next speaks, his voice is soft.
“What’s your name?”
“Noah.”
“And your second name?”
I shake my head, and he frowns.
“You don’t use them?
“No.”
His mouth tightens.
“Have you ever been here before? Does the Cull mean anything to you?”
I consider this.
“I’ve not been here before. But the word Cull means something to me. We often go through and do culls on the vermin animals at the Mill. Foxes and the like.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
He falls silent, and now it’s my turn to stare.
“Why are you asking me all this? I’m just here to drop off this delivery. As soon as I unload it, I’ll be going.”
The two exchange confused looks, and Pan takes a hesitant step forward.
“A… Noah? Do you have any siblings?”
> I shrug.
“Probably. I wouldn’t know. My parents and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. Haven’t seen them since I was about… eleven?”
Another exchanged look.
“What are your parents’ names?”
“No clue. Don’t really remember them.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, then repeats like she’s not sure what to say. I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees and setting my jaw.
“Enough? What’s with all the probing?”
Pan bites her lip so hard that I swear I can see blood pooling around her teeth.
“We have our reasons. This is big and it’s really not down to me to say. I need to introduce you to someone. Will you come with me?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to. I don’t care about these people and their problems, and I certainly have no interest in making friends. I just want to go home.
Still. There’s something about the way they’re talking, the renewed interest in their eyes, that draws my attention. Concern and shock and relief all rolled into one. I can’t just walk out of here now. Not after seeing their reactions – I have to see this through.
So instead, I heave a weary sigh and stand.
“Fine. But if I come with you, then you owe me an explanation. What this place is, why you’re so secretive. Everything.”
If I’m going to do this anyway, I may as well try to get something from it. A good story to tell Nel when I finally get home. Pan gives a small, satisfied smile.
“I’d say that’s fair. Come on.”
Pan and Jensen lead me through a maze of long, metal tunnels. They weave together, twisting this way and that, endlessly confusing. I try to remember every turn we make in case I need to find my own way back, but I quickly lose track.
“This can’t be inside that building,” I mutter, “are we underground?”
“Something like that,” she replies. Behind me, I can feel Jensen shuffling. His Hoverbot lurks behind me, now watching my every move, and I’m sure he’s instructed it to do so. Even now there’s some strange tension between us, like he’s not quite sure of me. I’m probably not helping the situation with my own suspicions, either.
As we walk, I start to doubt my own decision. I’m supposed to be gone by now. The journey here was horrendous; the journey back will likely be worse. I remember the sound of the ocean, the way the floor of the boat had swayed beneath me. The endlessly long road into the city. I don’t even want to think about how difficult it will be to find my way home.
This is a good distraction, if nothing else.
Pan glances back at me. There’s something new in her expression now – an excitement, a sense of anticipation. I swallow hard and hope that her amusement doesn’t come at my expense.
What am I doing here? These are total strangers, and they could be crazy. I could be walking into a trap. This is ridiculous. Not to mention that Wirrow would beat me over the head if he knew I was straying from my instructions for even a moment.
But the way she looks at me, I feel something akin to respect. She’s like Nel, if only she were harder and braver. For some reason, I trust her. I can’t help it.
Pan throws out a hand to stop me as we reach a heavy steel door. There’s a small window inset into it, but it’s blacked over. She looks me up and down, pursing her lips.
“Listen. I know this is confusing. Fair warning, this is going to be intense. But you can trust me.”
I cross my arms and look pointedly away.
“Thanks, but I don’t especially trust you.”
The lie feels awful on my tongue, but it has to be done. There’s no reasonable way to explain blind trust of a stranger. I barely understand it myself.
She doesn’t seem to mind, though. Most would be offended. There are few who would stay silent at that insult, even back at the Mill. If I’d said that to another farm worker, I’d expect a snide response and the cold shoulder for a few weeks. But Pan just shrugs it off.
She taps a code into the keypad on the wall, then nudges the door open.
“Brace yourself.”
It’s another room. Just like the others it’s made entirely of metal, but there are some homey touches. There’s a glass door across the room, and through it I can see a mass of other floors, areas and open-topped spaces. This place must be as big as the Farm – perhaps even bigger.
There are sofas in the corners, a large mahogany desk and leather chair, and a small white machine propped up against one wall which I recognise as a coffee maker, just like the ones the Guards have back home. What always seemed like a very minor luxury has always confused me; what’s so great about bean water?
My pondering is suddenly interrupted when someone turns around. I hadn’t even noticed him as he had stood motionless by the glass, watching over the goings-on outside his little shell. But now he moves, and my eye is immediately drawn to him.
He’s a stocky man, a few years older than me. He sports dirty blonde hair and dusty blue eyes, and there’s a spike-like piece of metal through one ear – a fashion statement, I can only assume. He’s heavy-browed and broad-shouldered, giving off a definite air of authority. His eyes meet mine and he stiffens.
“Who the hell is this?” he snaps at Pan, “will you stop bringing randomers in here? And Jensen, you and that Hoverbot of yours are supposed to be the second level of defence. Why didn’t you stop her?”
Jensen shuffles uncomfortably.
“T-there’s a good reason for this, honest.”
Pan clears her throat. A moment later I feel her hand on the small of my back, nudging me forward and into the centre of the room. Suddenly, I feel very exposed under the fluorescent light.
“Jay, this is Noah. She was sent from the Mill to bring us those supplies we asked Rian for.”
The man looks me up and down, his expression a mix of suspicion and utter boredom.
“And let me guess. You found yourself taken by our way of life, and want to join the cause?”
He pauses, rubbing at his head with an exasperated sigh.
“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be the first. Still, this isn’t something you should be bothering me with in the dead of night. You should have just taken this girl down to Nate.”
With that he turns away, a hint of disgust on his face. Confusion fills my chest. Is this why I was brought here? What’s this ‘cause’ they keep talking about?
“Well, about that…”
Pan steps forward and smiles, wrapping an arm around me. It’s an uncomfortable motion, one that suggests familiarity – I fight the urge to pull away.
“What?”
“Luse and some of the others tried to rob her on the way here. We explained everything and got things settled, but I brought her in to get cleaned up.”
He growls.
“What did I just say about bringing in randomers? This is kind of a covert operation.”
Jensen pipes up now, his voice suddenly less harsh.
“I wasn’t happy either. So I ran her through the system.”
That makes him stop. He looks at me with renewed interest, his eyes travelling the length of my body. His mouth contorts into an uneasy grimace.
“Do I need to call for backup?”
I tense, somehow finding the confidence to speak up.
“No, you don’t.”
He raises an eyebrow at that, and I feel like I should flinch away. There’s something about him that demands respect, a certain ferocity burning behind those hazy eyes. There’s an awkward moment as we size each other up, but then Pan and Jensen exchange an excited glance.
“Jay. This is Ada.”
Jay’s reaction is instantaneous. He stares at me, wide-eyed, his body tensed like he thinks I might tackle him.
“D-don’t be ridiculous,” he blurts, “is this some kind of joke? Because if it is, it’s not funny and I have half a mind to kick you both out of here.”
Pan shakes her head.
“It’s not a joke. We
checked her blood against the database. See for yourself if you don’t believe us.”
He looks me up and down again, but this time he seems to be looking for something in particular. It makes me a little uncomfortable to be stared at like this. It’s been a good many years since anyone’s paid me this much attention.
“B-but this doesn’t make any sense. It isn’t possible. It must be a trap.”
“No trap here,” I answer, “I have no idea what I’m even doing here.”
His eyes narrow, suspicion building.
“What… who are you?”
“I know who I am,” I bite back, “clearly it’s you who can’t figure it out.”
I glance back at Pan and set my jaw.
“Is this it? Can I go now?”
She ignores me, instead talking to Jay.
“See? Rian must have figured out who she was and sent her. He must have known this would happen.”
“Seems unlikely,” Jensen interjects, “we don’t normally test everyone who comes by. Rian couldn’t have known that we would this time round.”
The two begin to bicker over some strange technicalities, but the man in front of me just stares. Those dusty eyes take me in slowly, my stocky build and dark tan, my flop of unwashed, dirty blonde hair.
He does look familiar. Maybe it’s the eyes.
I clear my throat.
“I hope you don’t mind if I ask, but…who are you?”
His face falls at that. He glances back at Pan, who’s fallen silent.
“She doesn’t know me.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
With that he takes a step back, then turns away.
“I don’t know what to think. Jensen, rerun the test. I need to see this with my own eyes.”
Jensen takes more blood from my finger, and this time it’s significantly more than just a drop. Whatever they’re looking for, they apparently want to be certain.
As it runs through the system, though, the blonde man – Jay – watches me closely. His expression is a strange combination of delight and fear, like he’s hoping for good news but simultaneously terrified of the results.
This time when the screen lights up, it’s large enough that I can see it. The words themselves don’t make an awful lot of sense to me – literacy isn’t exactly an important skill back home – but there’s a picture, too.