Inside

by Maria V. Snyder

  Her eyes cleared as I rushed to explain. By the time I finished, she was on her feet and issuing orders. Every able-bodied person was pressed into service. She took one look at the glass shard in my arm and yanked it out.

  “Wrap it for now. We’ll deal with it later,” she said.

  The hours blurred together. It seemed complete and utter chaos was but a moment away, yet somehow Lamont kept us on track. I sewed stitches until my fingers turned numb. Set bones until my arms ached. The bandage around my forearm dripped blood, but I had no idea if it was mine or not.

  At one point a mechanical voice boomed. Everyone froze for a second as an announcement played. “Citizens of Inside, please do not panic.”

  Too late.

  “All life support systems are fully operational,” it continued. “Please remain at your posts. Those off-duty, please remain in your barracks and apartments. Anyone with medical experience is asked to report to the infirmaries on levels four, three and two. More information will be relayed when available.”

  We all stared at each other for a moment. Who was speaking, the computer or one of the Committee members? Before the rebellion, only the Travas had made announcements. However, nothing like this had happened when the Travas held power.

  Just like the redlights, the mechanical voice was probably an automatic safety measure. After another minute of stunned silence, activity resumed and I gave up keeping track of anything.

  But all through the frantic hours, bits and pieces of what had happen started to emerge. From half caught conversations and comments, I learned the power plant had caused the Big Shake. The plant occupied Quadrant C on all four levels. And the most severely injured were from Sectors B, F and a few from E. All shared a wall with Quad C. Which explained why the infirmary—Sector B3—had been in such disarray.

  At some point, the daylights returned, which meant we had power again. Eventually, the flow of patients eased and dribbled. I filled a tray with glasses of water and handed them out. A numb exhaustion had soaked into me, muting my emotions and slowing my reactions.

  For the first time since the…accident, I saw faces. Before I had focused on the injuries. But now I searched for those I recognized.

  Half of me was relieved not to see Riley among them, but the other half was terrified that his lifeless body was in the pile on level one, waiting to be fed to Chomper. Other horrible scenarios danced through my tired mind. His body hadn’t been discovered yet. He clung to life in level four’s infirmary. He was trapped, pinned under a heavy piece of machinery.

  I reached for another glass, but my tray was empty. Staring at the ripple pattern on the metal, I tried to remember what I should do as I swayed. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders from behind and guided me to my room. The bed had been cleared and the hands encouraged me to lie down.

  My weak protests were ignored. Unable to resist, I collapsed onto the mattress and through a slit in my heavy eyelids, I saw Doctor Lamont. She pulled a blanket over me. And the touch of her lips on my forehead was my last memory.

  Familiar voices woke me. They argued. I tried to produce the energy to care, failed and rolled over to return to sleep. But my mind wouldn’t cooperate. It mulled and tugged until it plucked the proper memory from the depths, exposing it in a series of images. The Big Shake. The injured. Beds filled with people. Blood everywhere.

  I lurched to my feet and ran from my room. My sudden exit surprised the two people on the other side of my door. Not caring I almost knocked Lamont down, I flung myself into Riley’s arms.

  He squeezed me as I clung to him. Questions poured from my mouth. “Are you all right? Where have you been? What happened?”

  “I’m fine. I’ve been helping Doctor Sanchia. Logan—”

  I pulled back. “Is he…” The word stuck in my throat.

  “He’ll be all right.” Riley swept my sleep-tousled hair from my eyes. “He looks better than you.” He rubbed his thumb lightly over the cut on my forehead. “This needs a few stitches. Want me to sew you up?”

  I studied his face and realized he was half serious. “Doctor Sanchia let you suture wounds?”

  “He didn’t have much choice. We were swamped with people.” Riley feigned nonchalance, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just a needle and thread. I’ve repaired rips in Sheepy before so I was more than qualified.” Humor sparked in his blue eyes.

  My mouth formed an automatic smile whenever I thought of Sheepy and his mother. The stuffed animal family had a special place in my heart. “I hope Sheepy and Mama Sheepy weren’t damaged.”

  “They’re fine. I checked on them before coming here. I do have my priorities straight,” he teased.

  I swatted him on the shoulder and he winced. Yanking his collar down, I exposed a fist-sized purple bruise.

  He peeled my fingers from his shirt. “It’s okay. No broken bones.”

  “How did you get hurt?” I asked.

  “I was inspecting the wiring on level five with Logan and the floor just heaved, tossing us across the room. He hit his head, but it’s a minor concussion.”

  “Heaved?”

  “An explosion happened in the power plant and we stood directly above it,” he said.

  “Does anyone know what set it off?”

  “No. That’s for another week.” He straightened his shirt and smoothed his black hair. Since the rebellion, Riley had let it grow. It smelled of shampoo. “Right now attending to the wounded and finding missing people is the main concern.”

  “Have you slept?”

  He nodded to the couch. “I arrived just after you went to bed. I didn’t want to wake you, so I showered and slept here. I’ve been helping Doctor Lamont.”

  Which reminded me. I stepped away from him, glancing around, but Lamont had left. “I should…”

  Riley stared at me in horror. Not my face, but my clothes. Dried blood stained almost all the white fabric, which had stiffened.

  “Relax, it’s not mine.”

  He pointed to a wet patch on my forearm. “And that?”

  “Just a cut. I need to shower and—”

  Unwinding the tattered bandage, he exposed the gash. I hissed in pain when he touched it.

  “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me from the apartment.

  Patients recovering from their injuries lay on the floor in Lamont’s office and in the exam room. Only a thin walkway remained free. At the examination table, Lamont finished with a young girl. The girl’s mother, who hovered nearby, swept the girl into her arms and carried her out.

  “Since you refused to get some rest, you might as well do Trella next,” Riley said to Lamont.

  He had been more forgiving of her betrayal. Which didn’t make sense to me. His mother had been recycled when he was little because of her. Well, not directly. But with Lamont spying for the Pop Cops, the Force of Ten had failed. The consequences had been high. My father—if Karla Trava had been telling the truth about me—Riley’s mother and two others had been recycled.

  Lamont claimed she had spied to protect her daughter, Sadie, which would be me if Karla’s word could be trusted. Except Karla said she recycled Sadie along with Lamont’s husband afterward. The lesson that should have been learned—don’t trust Karla or her word.

  Yet when the rebels were on the verge of winning, Karla told Lamont her daughter had really been living in the lower levels as a scrub. Once again Karla threatened to harm Sadie unless Lamont helped Karla stop the rebellion.

  How could such an intelligent woman fall for the same trick twice? When Karla had pointed to me as the long lost Sadie, Lamont had refused to believe her. It had been too coincidental. And I agreed.

  “Sit up on the table,” Lamont said to me.

  I stared at her. Deep lines of exhaustion etched her
pale face. She moved as if she’d shatter at any harsh sound.

  “You’re in no condition. Go to bed before you do more harm than good.” I snapped my mouth shut before I said “again.” As a doctor, she might be one of the best, but as a decent, reliable person, she failed.

  “But your arm—”

  “I can do it.”

  “One handed?”

  “Riley will help. We’ll keep an eye on everyone for you. If there’s an emergency, we’ll wake you.” I gave Riley a significant look.

  Understanding my hint, he released my hand and led Lamont back to her bedroom.

  I sorted supplies. Since the majority of the injuries from the accident had been cuts, we were low on sutures. I would need to restock them.

  “Why did she listen to you and not me?” Riley asked when he returned.

  I shrugged. “She thinks I’d be a good doctor.”

  “Like her?”

  “Don’t start.” I almost growled at him.

  He kept pestering me to test my blood. I couldn’t make him understand that the result wouldn’t change my opinion of her.

  “We’re running out of supplies. Has anyone opened all the crates found in the Expanse?” I asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Somebody should go through the crates and inventory them.”

  “Good idea, you should bring it up at the next Committee meeting. Oh, wait.” He smacked his head as if remembering something. “Since it’s a good idea, it will be promptly ignored.”

  “They have a ton of decisions to make. Just give them time to sort everything out.”

  “You’re defending them?” Riley cupped my cheek. “Are you feeling ill? Headache? Fever?”

  I swatted his hand away. “I’m serious.”

  “And this change in opinion is due to…”

  “I realized they have a tough job and I shouldn’t be so critical. Especially since I’m no longer a part of the Committee.”

  He gaped at me. “What did you just say?”

  “I resigned. They don’t need me. I’m going to explore, and now I’ll have time to go through those crates.”

  “I think that’s a bad idea.”

  “What? Inventorying the crates or exploring?”

  “Resigning.”

  “Why? I’ll have more time for…Sheepy. I’m sure he misses me.”

  “Sheepy can wait. You’re the voice of reason. You’ve seen both sides.”

  “They don’t listen to me. I’m too young.”

  “You led the rebellion.”

  “And almost all the people who were involved are on the Committee—Domotor, Hana, Takia, Breana, Jacy and your father. If you really think about it, I started it, but Jacy, Anne-Jade, Logan and the rest finished the rebellion. This is the same thing. The Committee has it covered. I’m just in the way.”

  Riley tried to argue, but I didn’t want to dwell on how useless I was in those meetings. I handed him the antiseptic and pointed to the gash on my arm. He grumbled, but helped to clean and then suture the cut. Although a bit awkward, he didn’t balk when it was time to pierce my skin with the needle. That part tended to unnerve potential interns. I shouldn’t be surprised. He had assisted Lamont with surgery in our storeroom when a Pop Cop had knifed me. Maybe he should be the one to train with Lamont.

  When he finished tying the last stitch, I examined his handiwork. Yet another scar on my arm. Between Vinco’s knife and my various injuries, I resembled one of those striped tigers listed in the computer files. A wild animal we had left behind. Why we left, I’d no idea, but I was sure Logan’s efforts to find the original files for Inside would be successful. Then we would know everything.

  After Riley and I finished checking on all the patients, I showered and changed into clean clothes. Since I no longer traveled through the air ducts and pipes, I wore the comfortable light green V-neck shirt and pants Lamont and the other caretakers wore. Yes, I realized the irony, but since I was only 1.6 meters tall, only a few uniform types fit me—unless I wanted to wear the student jumpers. And I wasn’t about to go around Inside wearing my air scrubbing uniform or the surgery whites—a special white fabric worn during an operation that allowed the blood stains and other fluids to be easily bleached clean.

  After my shower, I returned to the infirmary and organized the mess left by the Big Shake. Riley went to search for his father. Their rooms were located in Sector E4, catty-cornered to the power plant, but he wasn’t too worried.

  “He didn’t come to the infirmary on level four,” Riley had said. “I doubt he’s hurt, but I want to make sure.”

  As I worked, people stopped by to look for loved ones and to visit the injured. Everyone seemed dazed, and I wondered how long it would take them to recover.

  Hana Mineko arrived to record the names of the injured. She carried a portable computer—one of Logan’s new devices. Not only a member of the Force of Sheep, she had also been involved with Domotor’s first effort to regain control of Inside from the Trava family. Now she was a member of the Committee.

  Her black curly hair, usually fixed in an intricate knot, hung in messy clumps. Dirt smudged her cheek and scratches marked her petite nose.

  When she finished, I asked her how bad it was.

  Pressing a few buttons on her computer, she said, “So far, I’ve listed five hundred and three…” Hana glanced at my forehead. “Make that five hundred and four injured and sixty-six to be recycled.”

  My heart lurched and I put a hand to my chest. “That many are going to Chomper? Are you sure? The blast wasn’t that strong.”

  “The number is unfortunately accurate and bound to increase slightly. It could have been worse,” Hana said. “The explosion happened between levels four and three. The hardest hit areas were Sectors F3 and F4, which houses apartments for the uppers. If the blast had been in the lower two levels, the scrub barracks in Sectors F2 and F1 would have been in the line of fire, and thousands would now be waiting for Chomper.” She swept a hand, gesturing to the far wall of the infirmary. “Another piece of luck, the energy went south. If it had gone west, this place would have been torn to bits. You and Doctor Lamont would be waiting for Chomper. And if it had blown to the east or north…”

  Horrified, I stared at her. “Was it strong enough?”

  “To punch a hole to Outside?”

  A disaster that would cause the end of our world. “Yes.”

  “We don’t know yet. Maintenance is looking into it.”

  At the start of week 147,020, another announcement played. It had been thirty hours since the accident—looking at how much we’d done in the meantime, thirty hours seemed an impossibly short time. The mechanical voice—which I had been correct in assuming was the computer’s automatic safety system—informed us maintenance had bypassed the damaged sections of the power plant and operations had resumed. Once again electricity and heat were being generated and we would be up to full capacity in a matter of hours.

  A new voice, sounding like Hana, requested helpers to assist with cleanup in Sector B4. One of the water storage tanks had ruptured. I imagined rust growing on the walls and floor of B4, spreading like a disease.

  During the week, the infirmary emptied as people healed. About midweek, I finally had a few hours to myself. I decided to inspect the damaged areas, starting with Sector F3.

  In the back of my mind, I knew the force of the blast had been significant. But to see a huge jagged hole, crinkled metal and scorch marks was a whole other experience. A number of apartments had been destroyed. Wires hung to the floor and water dripped and pooled. The ceiling had been peeled back, exposing the Gap between levels three and four.

  Using the buckled metal wall, I climbed up into the Gap. At this location, I could stand, but normally I would
have to crouch in the one and a half meter space. The damage to level four resembled level three, except the floor had been ripped apart instead of the ceiling. The water pipes and air conduits that crisscrossed this space looked like broken toys.

  Climbing higher, I found Logan in the plant’s main Control Room on level four. He pounded on a keyboard, muttering and cursing to himself. A white bandage covered his left temple and eyebrow. Dark purple and red bruises colored his left cheek.

  “How bad is it?” I asked him.

  He jerked. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  It took me a moment to respond. Riley had said Logan looked better than me, but I’d slept since the explosion. Logan’s haggard oval face and bloodshot eyes told me it had been a long time since he’d rested.

  “Where else would I come from? Outer Space?”

  He grunted and his focus returned to the computer screen.

  “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. However you look like Chomper’s been chewing on you. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

  “No idea. What time is it now?” Logan cursed and slammed his fist down.

  I pulled his chair away from the console.

  “Hey!” He braced his feet, trying to scoot back.

  “No.” I swiveled him to face me. Nose to nose, I gave him my best scowl. “You need food and sleep.”

  “But—”

  “Inside has power and heat.”

  “But—”

  “Whatever you’re working on will still be there when you return.”

  “But—”

  “You can’t think straight without rest.”

  He clutched the chair arms as if I had threatened to pick him up and carry him to the cafeteria. No need. I would roll his chair if I had to.

  His words rushed out in a panicked burst. “But this is important!”

  I straightened and crossed my arms. Keeping a stern expression, I said, “This had better be good.”

  Logan’s wild gaze flicked to the door and back to me. “Promise to say nothing?”