by Annie Oldham
I put a hand on her arm. She's asking if I think they made it, if I think—even though they're long gone now—they escaped what every country did to every other country out there.
Not everyone died. We're here.
Her face is grim. “That's why we're going to the colony. Because you're here. It's like the last safe place on Earth.”
My churning stomach does another flip. Is it the last safe place on Earth? Possibly. But how much am I willing to pay to get us there?
Madge flicks her pencil on her clipboard, and the sound startles me and I drop the backpack.
“What's in them?”
Jane brushes a tear from her cheek and composes herself. Eyes down, head down. She shouldn't have enough fight left to be able to cry over this injustice.
“School supplies.”
“Salvageable?”
I nod.
“Good. Here's what we'll do with them.”
I lean forward. This is going to be Madge's plan.
“There are a few details to be sorted out.” She gestures to the packs, her voice casual and even. Her eyes flick once, and she spots the soldier across the room and the agent by the door. They're too far to hear anything. “We'll give all the soldiers and agents serum the day of the escape. Hopefully the 'contaminated' kind, which shouldn't be too much of a problem. I think it's all contaminated.”
I start back. She had said it was risky, but I think they'd notice if we injected them all. Madge waves it away.
“They're just school supplies, not a big deal. We can spike their dinner. It will take longer to kick in, which is perfect. When they're all incapacitated, we'll use the keycard we've swiped and get out.”
She had said there were a few details to be sorted out. She wasn't kidding. But she was right about poetic justice. They'll finally see what we've been suffering for their stupid tests.
“How do we get the serum and the keycard?” Jane says. I nod.
“That's up to you. But this plan can work, Terra, if you're willing to take some risks.”
I think back to a night months ago, when I was willing to leave my family behind, willing to face the darkness of the trench, and willing to give up speaking forever.
Madge reluctantly lets me take her hand. That's how I got to land.
“Then make sure it gets done. We need all the serum in place by the night before, so eight days. Ask your doctor friend how long it takes to work when it's eaten.”
The keycard?
“I think you can figure it out.”
Madge walks away to the next pile. A soldier patrols the aisles, his mask trained on us. I guess the conversation took a little too long for his taste. Jane and I sort the books, pencils, notebooks, and packs into separate piles. He stops a few feet away from us, his fingers tense around his gun.
He doesn't say anything, but I can feel his eyes as we sort. I expect him to shout or deride us or something, but he just stands there. I can't read him with that black mask in the way, and I remember all-too-well the way the soldiers looked like scorpions only a few days ago when I was drugged out of my mind. I shudder—not from the memory—but because of how accurate that hallucination was.
I bend my head down a little more, hunch my shoulders a little more. It feels so wrong pretending to be so weak, but I need to lay low. We all do. If Madge can hide everything from them, well then so can I. Jane has perfected the weak thing to a tee, and I take my cues from her.
Finally the soldier speaks, and his voice is softer than I expected. “Worker 7456, come with me to interrogation.”
I pull my shoulders back and look him square in the eye. My act drops in an instant. I'm being reckless. If I'm to keep this up, I can't let them faze me. The soldier waits to make sure I follow him. I shrug once to Jane, drop the pack I'm holding, and go out the door with him. I try to reassemble my face into something like helpless, but it's so hard to do. During my days with the settlement, I was free. I could be myself. No, that's not quite true. I was still hiding, really. I couldn't tell them what I was. I remember those hot, summer days with Dave. I remember the way he smiled at me, the way his blue eyes shined. The way I saw him starting to love me, the way I tried to return it but couldn't quite manage to. I wasn't sure why then, but I know now. I know how corrosive just one lie can be. A harmless lie really: I'm from Arizona, not from an ocean colony. But it poisoned things, poisoned relationships. The way I'm now almost friends with Mary shows me that. Now she knows the truth about me; now she can trust me. I just regret not telling Jack sooner.
In a way, I'm more free here than I was in the settlement. I've come clean with a lot more people, and it's liberating to be seen as I am. But the gloom settles on me again because I can't let the agents or soldiers know. That was the price of my escape to the Burn: the promise that I wouldn't speak of the colonies to anyone, and I know the soldiers and agents are the most dangerous people I could tell. In their hands, what might that knowledge do? Would it start a war? It could, I guess, if enough people were angry about it. I could see the government doing exactly that. They're so desperate for their citizens to be loyal, to engender some kind of trust that I could see them going after the colonies if for no other reason than to pretend they were seeking vengeance against the colonists for deserting everyone. It would definitely make quite a few citizens happy, I think. Then the government would study the colonists to see what makes us tick.
The soldier opens the too-familiar door of the interrogation room, and my agent waits there with her arms folded. Her eyes are hooded, and she looks like a cobra ready to strike. I'm surprised she doesn't hiss at me. She's getting frustrated with me. Good.
She gives a quick nod to the soldier, and he closes the door. There's something different about this meeting, and I can't quite place it. Then I realize: except for the two of us, the room is empty. No Dr. Benedict, no nurse, no soldiers. And suddenly, I'm very afraid.
“Sit.”
She didn't even have to say it. I would have sat down under the weight of her gaze alone. I'm fighting between acting weak and throwing my head back defiantly, but I breathe deeply and try to remember. A little over a week. Then we fight.
“I'm getting tired of this, Worker 7456. Tired.”
I look at the glossy buttons on her white shirt. Two show above where her jacket meets. The crooks of her elbows make three wrinkles in the fabric on her right arm, four on the left. I study these details as hard as I can to keep from jumping up, fighting back, and ruining everything.
“Did you hear me?”
The buttons. Looks at the buttons. I nod.
“I know there's something you're keeping from us, and it's only a matter of time before we rip it from you. Keep that in mind. You can willingly give it, or we can rip it from you. Which do you think would be more pleasant?”
I close my eyes. I doubt they'd rip it like a bandage. Their ripping would be more like slowly tearing.
The buttons. Focus. One gleams pink in the fluorescent light.
The agent makes an ugly sound in the back of her throat. “You inmates are all the same. You disgust me.”
My eye twitches; her buttons can't hold me now. I meet her gaze with such malevolence, I kind of expect her to burn to ash on the spot. A smile creeps across her lips.
“Yes, there's more in there than you'd like us to know. You're unusual that way.”
She stands up and stalks around the table. The sharp click of her heels reminds me of beetles, but she's a thousand times more deadly. She sits down on the edge of the table and leans over me.
“I think for you, ripping will be better.”
Then she reaches back a hand and slaps me as hard as she can across the face.
“I'm done here.”
I don't even have time to shake the stars out of my vision before the soldier pulls me to my feet.
“Take her to Dr. Benedict. I believe he has another injection for her.”
The soldier drags me out of the room before I realize what she's said. I force m
yself to clear my head, to ignore the blazing pain in my cheek. Dr. Benedict. The serum. I have to start now, don't I? That will be the only way to smuggle enough of it out. I loll my head to one side. It's a little too dramatic, but the soldier doesn't seem to notice. After all, he has no idea what really went on in there, and with the way my cheek and mouth sting, I'm sure I have a huge red mark—maybe even a welt—on my face.
We stop outside the medical area, and the soldier props me up against the wall before swiping his keycard. He grabs me again, and as the door opens, Dr. Benedict looks up from his desk. I keep my eyes down, but through my lashes, I see his brows furrow.
“What happened?” He stands up from his desk where he's been pouring over some files.
“Interrogation,” the soldier says.
“I knew she'd take it too far. She never knows when enough is enough.”
“Not my call, doc.”
“Of course it's not. You're as much of a pawn as the inmates are.”
The soldier tenses next to me, but something passes between them, some look from Dr. Benedict's black eyes that I can't read. The soldier softens.
“I'll take it from here, soldier.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Benedict reaches for me with both arms as the soldier lets me go, and I let myself fall into them. I feel like crying right now. I won't, of course. That's a little too much weakness, and I won't let them see it. But I need the comfort of a friend, and Dr. Benedict's the only thing remotely close to one right now. He strokes a hand over my hair.
“What happened?”
I reach for his hand. She hit me.
“How badly?”
Hard. Is it ugly?
He manages to laugh. “I've seen worse. Let me get you an ice pack.”
He motions me into the equipment room with the serum fridge. He disappears behind a few filing cabinets, and a fridge door opens and he rummages around. I slip off the bed and open the serum fridge. The vials are marked with numbers and letters. I have no idea what they mean or which symptoms they'll bring on. I don't think it really matters. I haven't seen any of them produce anything close to a positive side effect, so I just grab one from the back and slip it under the elastic of my waist band. The cold glass brings goose bumps, and I worry for a moment. Do they have to stay cold? I think of my cell window and my hand print on it. That will have to be cold enough. I can't do any better.
Dr. Benedict comes back with an ice pack and eases it onto my cheek. His face is inches from mine, and the scent of woods is too close. I pull back, and he smiles at me.
“Keep it there for a few minutes.”
I press it to my face, sighing as the cold works its way past the sting and numbs me. I tuck my shirt down over the vial just a little bit more, hoping the bagginess will hide the small tell-tale lump.
“I'll get your injection ready.”
I'm paralyzed remembering the hallucinations. The color drains from my face, and the ice pack chills me to the marrow of my bones. How will I lose control of myself this time? I grab Dr. Benedict's arm, my fingers pressing into his skin. He looks at me and I shake my head. I'm suddenly startled by the sadness in Dr. Benedict's eyes. I don't often see anything there I can name.
“You know, Terra, I am sorry about all this. I'm following orders.”
He fills up a syringe, and I grit my teeth, bracing myself for whatever horrors this one will bring. I watch as he puts the needle in me and feel the familiar burn as the serum works its way through my veins. Dr. Benedict lets his hand linger on my arm for another moment before he puts the stupid smiley face bandage over the pinprick of blood. Then he caresses my hand as he takes the ice pack away. I clench my fist. How long until my brain isn't in control? Could I ever do anything to convince Dr. Benedict not to give me another injection?
“I'm sorry about your face too. It should feel better soon. Might be bruised for a few days, though. Come back and see me, Terra.”
I just nod. I have something to get done; of course I'll come back. I jump down off the table and go to the door. The soldier sees me through the small window and opens it. He takes my arm and is about to lead me away when Dr. Benedict clears his throat.
“I'd actually prefer it if you took her back to her cell. I think she'd better rest.”
The soldier pauses for a beat as if he's unsure he's heard right. “There's still an hour of work hours left.”
“True.” Dr. Benedict looks down at his tablet and makes a few notes. “But she'd better get some rest if the agents would like her to still be of use to them.”
The soldier isn't happy about it, but he leads me down the corridors and into the maze of cell doors.
Once inside my cell, I listen to the sound of his boots retreating down the hall before I move away from the door. When there's nothing but silence—and there's too much of that with everyone else on work hours—I climb the bunk, slide the vial from my pants, and put it on the window ledge against the glass. I wipe away a circle of condensation and look out across the forest. The frost-tipped pines are grayish green against the blue sky. There are clouds coming, though, across the ocean toward us. There will be a storm tonight.
I'm sure Dr. Benedict thought he was doing me a favor letting me come back to my cell, but just lying on the bunk for a couple of hours does nothing for me. I would rather keep my hands and my mind busy, and the nasty headache forming behind my eyes doesn't help. All I can think of is how our plan can fail—there isn't enough serum to go around, the keycard doesn't work, the serum actually isn't contaminated and all the soldiers and agents are at peak form, we can't move fast enough, the sub never comes. Kai can't move fast enough and is caught, Jack and Mary and Dave are shot before my eyes, Madge claws at a soldier who pops out of nowhere, Jane and her small frame can't contend with the obstacles placed before us. Every way I imagine it, it always ends in death. The tears prick in my eyes, but I can't let them fall. I rub my palms across my face. Stop thinking of it, I tell myself. Thoughts like this won't help. This is going to happen; we're going to try.
Finally the intercom lets me know it's dinner time. I slide off the bunk as the door opens and think maybe I do just want to lie on my bunk for the rest of the night. There's no one else in my hall—they are coming from work hours—but as I get closer to the mess hall, trickles of women converge and we go in to dinner. I sit by Madge and it's all I can do to fight back the tears and give her a hopeful smile.
One down.
“You look horrible.” She grins and her smile is genuine. I don't know if she's still angry with me, but she's excited about the progress we've made.
Interrogation. I feel so pathetic at the thought of it that a few tears do finally spill over. How many do we need?
Madge raises an eyebrow at the tears on my cheeks. “No idea. As many as you can get.”
“Are you okay?” Kai asks. She leans toward me, instinctively wanting to comfort, and I know she will be a good mother. The concern on her face for all of us just about breaks my heart. I think of Nell who could have been a mother too. Do she and Red have children? I never thought to ask. I never really knew any of them, my family at the settlement, and I'm so overwhelmed with grief for the family I lost that I bury my head in my hands and sob.
“Get a grip, Terra,” Mary hisses, glancing up at the soldiers.
Madge studies me. “Did you see Dr. Benedict after interrogation?”
I nod and wipe the back of my hand across my nose.
“Get an injection?” she asks pointedly.
I realize. Of course. This overwhelming sorrow wouldn't come over me just from sitting in my cell for a couple hours.
How long does it last?
Madge shrugs. “I've seen it last a couple hours. Seen it last more than a day.”
The tears start afresh because I can't imagine sitting for more than a day with this pit of grief inside me. I'm pathetic right now and I know it, but I feel so out of control of my body. I'm a sniffling, wet mess, and I hate the wa
y everyone is looking at me with pity in their eyes.
I'm about to bury my head in my arms when the screen drops down again and the lights dim. The familiar male voice comes on, accompanied by a picture of a pristine white building.
“The third hospital offering free medical care has just been completed in Salt Lake City. This marvel of modern technology hosts private rooms for every patient, state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment, and a staff of skilled doctors and nurses trained to serve you. You are the citizens of New America, and you deserve the best health care available.”
Someone snorts off to my left, but no one looks. No one wants to rat anyone else out. The soldiers look around, but we all keep our eyes carefully on the screen. Even me, while I'm bawling my eyes out.
“This new facility has a comfortable birthing center—” Kai goes rigid “—an incredible surgical ward, and all the amenities you could ever want from a place where you can come to heal. All brought to you by your government. Dedicated to providing for your needs.”
The lights brighten again and the soldiers look around, seeing if anyone bought into it this time. No one moves. There are more glares than I've ever seen, and I hiccup with my sobs. The agents are really wasting their time, and it's just so sad that we all have to sit here while they do it. I wipe my nose.
Then I think of the conversation that the film interrupted.
Don't you get injections? I ask Madge.
“I did for the first few months I was here. Guess they figured they pricked me enough times, gave me enough mood swings. Who knows. They stopped though. Sometimes I still have the same nightmares I used to have from one of the injections.” She leans forward. “It's stupid, but I dream the soldiers are bees stinging me.”
I manage to smile, and salty tears drip into my mouth. I thought they were scorpions.
“Yours is better.”
I nudge Jane. You?
She shakes her head and whispers, “Later.” She's the one who rarely talks. She doesn't want to strike up a conversation now and break appearances.
“How come they haven't given me one yet?” Mary asks.
It's a good question. She's been here a couple days. I already had one by this time.