by Jessica Kapp
“More like…ecstasy. You lose self-control. All that’s left is desire.” I wait for him to start to drool but he manages to pull himself together. “You gonna take it?”
“I was just curious.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m not sure.” It’s the truth. But I have a feeling it might come in handy. I stuff the pill back in my pocket. “Let’s head back.” I run past him, listening for his feet. He must like the ladybug-red sweatshirt I’m wearing because he doesn’t lag too far behind.
• • •
No one is outside throwing the Frisbee around when we get back. I’m glad because all the information I have about Sasha is eating me alive. I hate that I can’t remember her name and I wonder if she feels slighted I don’t recognize someone I looked up to at the Center. She made me want to be a better swimmer. Then again, she’s probably glad I haven’t said anything. If she’s trying to escape her past I don’t want to be the one to dig it up.
I help Ry down the ladder, but he manages to fall when his foot slips on the second to last rung, and he bursts into a fit of laughter.
Adrian shoots us both a look and I step over Ry.
“He took Euphorium,” I say. “Don’t worry, I’m not on anything.”
Adrian makes a noise that sounds like a chuckle.
“What are you working on?” I ask.
He glares at me apprehensively.
“Look, I’m sorry about your nose. Self-defense was a priority at the Center.”
He makes a clicking noise with his tongue and nods. “Yeah, I heard they really stepped up the training after Sasha got out.”
“You think we were trained to fight off people trying to save us?”
“Yes and no.” Adrian fiddles with the knobs on the radio.
It looks ancient, like something out of a retro scene in the Gladstone Review. The magazine devoted an entire issue to the 1970s. It was in the stacks Ms. Preen brought to the Center for us to read. Some of the pages were torn out—probably ads for drugs they didn’t want us to know about—but there were plenty of pictures left for a group of us to create a game. We spent the evening pretending to pick out our perfect moms and dads, the cars they drove, the furniture we’d have. We kept going until we had our ideal family. It seems like a stupid game now.
“There actually is a group that kidnaps young, healthy kids to try to sell on the black market. Heard it happens near St. Vincent’s in the north end. It’s the hospital in junkie territory.” His eyes are serious. “They perform alleyway surgery, and I can’t imagine it’s pretty. You don’t want to go under the knife with those guys.”
I swallow the image as I nod. “Our trainers talked about it.” In great detail, unfortunately. “We were taught to trust no one.”
“With the exception of Center employees, of course,” he says with a smile.
I roll my eyes. “Of course.”
Ry laughs and I glance over. He’s still staring up at the hatch, but now he’s tracing the shape in the air with his finger. He must have taken a larger dose than before.
“So,” I say, turning my attention back to Adrian. “Did you go to school with Gavin too?”
“No, I was homeschooled. But I’ve known Gavin since he was in diapers.”
“Really?” The image makes me laugh.
“Our moms did the whole playdate thing when we were kids, but they eventually lost touch. Gavin and I hadn’t seen each other since elementary school, then one day I found him stranded on the side of the road. His truck had broken down, and I got it running well enough for him to make it back here. We spent the next four hours catching up while we gave it a tune-up. Then Mary came wandering out of the barn…” There’s pain in his eyes. “When I learned what happened, I wanted to help.”
Gavin’s voice startles me. “I knew it was a risk telling Adrian,” he says from the doorway of the main room. In three big strides, he’s by Adrian’s side. “But we had a history, and I thought his technical expertise could be helpful. Plus, he didn’t use drugs.”
“Why would I want to alter this physique?” Adrian pats his belly and smiles.
“What about the others? How’d they join the team?” What I’d really like to know is how Gavin met Kenny.
Gavin shoots Adrian a look. “I think that’s enough of a history lesson for one day.”
“Why can’t he talk to me about this?” Heat rushes to my face. “What? You don’t trust me?”
“Not when we almost lost our new contact because of your paranoia.” My fingernails dig into my palms. I want to snap back, but the words feel like they’re jammed in my throat. Gavin’s eyes dart to the ladder. “What the hell happened to Ry?”
“Euphorium,” Adrian says.
Gavin’s gaze immediately comes back to me. “Decided not to join him this time?”
“If you expect me to trust people, perhaps you’d better take your own advice.”
Adrian drops one of his tools and it pings against the floor. Gavin bends down to pick it up, and when he hands it to Adrian, he’s almost smiling.
“All right. Tell her whatever she wants to know, Adrian.” He looks me in the eyes. “I trust her.”
The tension in my body starts to fade. I wish I could say it back, but I can’t yet, and I’m glad he doesn’t wait for me to.
“But,” he turns back to the main room, “if you’d rather learn about the rescue mission, you can take a rain check and follow me.”
Adrian must see my eyes widen because he waves me away. I hurry behind Gavin to the kitchen table where Mary is eating applesauce like it’s ice cream from Dairy Land. There’s a blob on her dress and I think some is in her hair, although it’s hard to tell because her hair is so messy. Is it possible it’s rattier than it was earlier?
“Hi, Tabitha!” Mary shrieks, holding up a heaping spoonful. “Want some?”
I smile. “No thanks, Mary. But before I forget…” I turn to Gavin who’s already sitting; unfolding a piece of paper he pulled from his pocket. “Can I sign up for laundry duty?”
He stares at me like I’ve asked to cut out my own lung.
“That’s a lot of work. Have you seen the pile?” He points to the far corner of the room. To the right of the signup sheet, there’s an overflowing mountain of clothes. Mary is small enough to climb to the top and use it as a slide.
“It has to get done sometime,” I say. “Ry said there’s a waterfall not far from here…”
“Yeah, well, good luck. You’re going to need help.”
“I’ll go! I’ll go!” Mary says, rapping her spoon repeatedly on the table.
“No, I need you to help Reilly with the dishes, Mary. You’re the only one who can keep him focused.”
Mary gives him a big juicy smile. He reaches across the table and wipes some of the sauce from the side of her mouth with a napkin.
I take a seat next to her and Gavin turns the paper around so I’m not reading it upside down. It’s a spreadsheet with dates and times, like my former workout schedule, only this one shows when my friends are going to die. There’s a tight squeeze in my chest. The Center acts like our hearts are for selling and nothing more, like our only value is the price of our parts. Who are they to decide our fate? I blink back angry tears before they can escape.
“There’s a surgery scheduled for May 31,” Gavin says, pointing at the first column.
The paper has some marks I don’t understand. I tap one on the page.
“That symbol means they need a live donor,” he says, “not a part from the cryopreservation unit.”
“Do we know who the buyer is?” Maybe if we told them, if we explained to them what was going on…
“All we have are initials.”
“Do we know who’s next? Who’s being fostered out?” The words roll off my tongue with bitterness.
“Now that Kenny’s on our side, we’ll have a better idea.”
“How do you know this guy, anyway?”
He w
ipes Mary’s chin again and takes the time to fold the napkin when he’s done. “A friend of a friend.”
“Hmm.” I nod as if I’m satisfied, but it does little to build my trust for Kenny. Who would their go-between be? I scan through a list of names in my head—trainers, mostly. It can’t be Ms. Preen. She’d probably volunteer to cut us open if she could. I draw a blank, and my eyes shift to Mary as I word my next question. “Now that we have an idea about the next surgery, how do you…prepare? I mean…the people…what you unloaded at the hospital…how do you, um…”
A flash of understanding crosses Gavin’s face. “Mary, can you check and see if I left the keys in my truck?”
Applesauce flecks splatter when she drops her spoon and scurries off. I blow out a breath of relief. “Thanks,” I say.
“No problem. I wouldn’t have told you with her here.”
“So what are the bodies for? You don’t, you know…kill, do you?”
I can tell my question amuses him. “They’re replacements. That way the room isn’t empty if someone pops in before the surgery. But no. They’re already dead.”
“Where do you…get them?”
“Ry’s in charge of that.” Gavin bounces his pencil on the table. The eraser is surprisingly springy. “People overdose on pills all the time. The pharmaceutical companies can still use the bodies for a while, to test skin and hair products, stuff like that. They pay for dead junkies. It’s disgusting.”
“So we buy bodies before they can?”
“More or less.”
“Where do we get the money?”
“We have an account. Well, I do, that is.” Gavin hesitates, scratching a thin layer of hair on his chin. “Needless to say, my college savings isn’t going toward tuition.”
My jaw drops. Gavin has given up his education to stop the Center. He’s funding this operation. I want to reach across the table and hug him.
He gives a small shrug, and I realize I’m gazing at him with a smile that’s not appropriate for talking about dead bodies.
“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat, “sometimes we don’t use money. Ry trades pills for them before the bodies are sold to companies for testing. We save the sellers a trip and they get what they really want—drugs.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Ry says it’s perfectly safe.” Gavin’s gaze drops to the table as he traces a knothole. “But I’m starting to think he’s been around that crowd too long.”
I look over my shoulder at Ry, who wanders around the room listening to music. He’s having a hard time keeping the earphones in, but to him, it’s the funniest thing in the world.
“The hospital doesn’t realize you’re replacing the bodies with ones that are already dead?”
“Eventually, but it buys us some time to get away. It’s not like the body we replaced yours with had your hair color. I’m sure the doctor noticed as soon as he looked at the chart. That reminds me…” Gavin scribbles a note about hair dye on the paper. “You need to lose the red.”
“Of course. If you think that’ll help. I don’t want anyone to recognize me at the hospital.”
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Gavin’s hand goes up. “You’re not going on a rescue mission. I’m just filling you in so you’re in the loop. Sasha will tell you where to hide if we’re not back within a couple of hours.”
I make my voice as firm as my fist. “I want to go.”
“What makes you think I’d let you?”
Does he think I’m going to twiddle my thumbs while one of my friends lies waiting? “I’m fast. I’m strong…” I lean forward. “And you need me.”
His face twitches just enough to let me know I’m right. His team is small, and they don’t have a lot of successes under their belts.
Gavin doesn’t nod, but he does sigh, and that’s better than a no. “I’ll think about it. If—and that’s a big if—I say yes, you have to follow my orders.”
“I can do that.”
“And be a team player.”
“Done.”
“That means you need to get along with everyone.” He gives me a stern look, one eyebrow raised and lips tight. “Kenny confirms the surgery room and time so we can get there before it happens.”
I force myself to smile and I nod. I understand how important Kenny’s role is, but I still don’t trust the guy. If I run into him again, I can’t guarantee I won’t give him a swift knee to the groin.
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You and Adrian take the rescue van, and Ry and Craig haul in the body double.” Gavin nods. “What’s the other guy do? The one with the long hair?”
“Burk? He helps when he can. He’s got a regular job at a grocery store, but he’ll ask for days off if we have a mission. Everyone makes it a priority.”
“So what happens when donors like me go missing after a mission? Do the buyers just wait for another match?”
“In some cases.” Gavin fills in the letters on the paper. His hands seem to always need to stay busy. He notices I’m watching and stops, but it’s only a few seconds before he has to straighten it so the pencil and paper are perfectly aligned.
I like this about him. It makes him seem normal, not quite so perfect.
“The buyer might settle for frozen parts,” he says. “It depends on how sick they are and what they need.”
“But don’t be surprised if they head back to the Center for fresh meat,” says Sasha from behind me. Her arm grazes my hair as she walks around the table and sits next to Gavin. I try not to meet her eyes. I don’t think I can hide my sympathy for her, and I suspect she doesn’t like pity.
Gavin drums his fingers on the wood, staring at the paper for more answers. The table is waxy, and his nails make soft clicks. “I’m gonna see what else I can find out.” There’s urgency in his voice. Determination.
He meets Mary at the door when he gets to the hallway. Of course the keys have been in Gavin’s pocket the entire time, but he thanks her profusely for looking and asks her to walk him out.
I feel Sasha’s stare and meet her eyes. A lump forms in my throat.
“I don’t like you,” she says.
“I figured that much.” I stand to leave, unwilling to be her verbal punching bag.
When my back is to her she calls out, “I’ve got my eye on you.”
Despite my every intention, I can’t help myself. I turn around. “What did I do to piss you off?”
“You got out.”
“That makes you mad?”
“Mary’s just a kid. But you.” She points at my heart. “You’re a liability. I can see it in your eyes. You insist on going to the hospital, but you have no idea the danger you’re putting everyone in by going inside that place.”
“I just want to help. What’s wrong with that?” My hands are shaking and I curl my fingers to stop them. “Do you think we should leave everyone to die? Don’t you care about your friends?”
Sasha’s cheeks redden like she’s about to explode. Her fist pounds the table. “All my Center friends are dead by now. I have to protect what I can. And that’s here.”
I take a deep breath, forcing my emotions to recede. Sasha is terrified of losing the only family she has left. How can I be angry with her when I feel the same way? I give her a nod to show her I understand. But if I can help in any way, I want to be there.
“I know it’s risky. I’ll keep a low profile. Trust me, I don’t want anyone to…to get hurt.” Then I turn and head for my bunk before she can see the fear in my eyes, the fear that maybe she’s right. What if her friends are caught because someone recognizes me?
Chapter 9
“You don’t want a heart,” Craig says, playing a diamond. “Hearts are points.”
“And points are bad, right?” I play a diamond too, even though I’m still not sure what I’m doing. “Can’t we just play Old Maid?” It’s a game we played at the Center, one I’m pretty good at. Only Parker could tell when I had the Old Maid card. He said he could rea
d it in my eyes.
“That’s a kid game,” Sasha says with a laugh.
I clamp my mouth shut before something snappy can come out. Gavin is still wary about me going on the next mission, but if I can prove I’m a team player—that I can play nice with others—I’m hoping it’ll seal the deal.
Mary sits next to me on the floor while we play, leaning in like a puppy with her head on my thigh. Her hair is smooth, and she can’t keep her hands off the strands that fall over her shoulders.
I asked Sasha if I could borrow a brush the day after our heated argument. She hesitated, but once she knew what it was for, she said I could keep it.
“I don’t need it anyway,” she’d said. “I can style my hair with my fingers.” Then she asked if I wanted to play cards when I was done. For the last week, it’s become a routine.
We’ve been playing for an hour, and my stomach growls at the spicy smell of whatever Ry’s cooking. Gavin puts away groceries while Adrian sits on the table with headphones on, shoulders hunched as he fiddles with a dial.
“It’ll be a miracle if he gets that thing working again,” Sasha says, following my eyes to the kitchen. She lays down a four of hearts.
We all have to play a heart now, and I have the ace, which means I’ll win the hand and collect four points. At least I’ll have control of the next round.
“How’d the radio break?” I ask.
“It didn’t. They must have scrambled the signal,” she says. “Reception went fuzzy around the same time Gavin got you out. But if anyone can tap in, Adrian can. He’s a tech wiz.”
“Maybe he should try breaking into the network again,” Burk says. He sits with his legs crossed and his back straight—it’s a meditative pose, which seems to fit his hippy hair and goatee. It’s like he’s on a low-dose of Euphorium all the time, but Gavin says he’s a Nordic native—here before PharmPerfect moved in—and the only drug he takes comes from a plant.
“He might have to.” Sasha gestures for Craig to play a card.
“It’d help if we had a better signal out here,” says Craig, dropping the Jack of spades.
“If reception’s so bad, can’t he just listen in from another city?” I ask.