by JM Butcher
The system is working. The Behavioral Thought Exam and the chipping system are effective. Look at the data. Transgressive, and other unfavorable acts, have dropped significantly since we implemented the Behavioral Thought Bill.
Facts do not lie.
-White Coat Intelligence Officer Preston Smith
I’m not sure how long I fell asleep for, long enough for the tranquilizer to wear off.
As I lie in this strange bed, terrifying thoughts swarm my brain. They aren’t just words this time. Images form as well. I picture the boy from the Garbage Spot, taken from his mother’s arms. I watch Melli’s reaction. She’s smiling and holding Grant’s hand. They run off in the other direction and leave me alone. No Lexa. No Ronnie.
I’m alone, just like Tyler. Now, I imagine Tyler failing the Exam. Mother installs his eye chip. She’s laughing.
Are these night thoughts? Am I dreaming?
I re-watch Dad’s body turn lifeless over and over. The puddle of blood is bigger every time, and each time his eyes close a little bit more and more. He chokes harder and harder trying to take a final breath. No, to speak. To say something to me.
What do you want to say, Dad? What? What?
Dad speaks. “You did this to me, Maggie! You did. You and your mother. You killed me!”
“Stop!” I yell.
“You did this. It is your fault!”
“Stop!” I slap my head repeatedly. “Make them stop. Make them stop!” I yank my hair.
“You killed me!”
“Ahhhhhh! Stop! Make them stop!”
There is pounding at the door that slowly becomes drowned out by my screams.
“I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!"
“Maggie! Open your eyes!” Something pulls my arms away. Not something. Someone.
My legs flail and my arms wrestle with the person.
“Open them!” the voice says, repeatedly.
I open my eyes to see Hayden trying to restrain me. One arm breaks free and catches him in the chin, but he regains control.
“Maggie,” Hayden says. “Shhh. Maggie, it’s okay. Just a bad dream. You’re okay.”
I close my eyes. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m not okay. It’s my fault. I shake free again, wildly swinging and kicking.
“I need help!” Hayden yells. “Please. I need help!”
“No,” I say, opening my eyes. “No, no. Nobody else.” I slowly stop struggling. “Nobody else.”
“Okay, okay,” Hayden says, taking my hand. “Just you and me. Breathe with me, Maggie. In…out…in…out. Do it with me. In…out…in…out.” My heaves follow his breaths. “It’s okay. You were having a bad dream.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No. I wasn’t dreaming. I was awake.”
No longer needing to hold me down, Hayden gives me some room.
“They weren’t dreams.” I say. “They were real. I swear.”
“You’ve been through a lot,” Hayden says. “Your imagination is running…”
Frantically, I say, “No, it wasn’t my imagination. It was so real. They were there. I swear it was real. The boy. Melli. Grant. Tyler. Dad. Mother. They were there. They didn’t see me. It was real. I swear it was real!”
“Maggie!” Hayden’s raised voice makes me freeze. He walks over to me. In a much more soothing tone, he says, “Breathe, Maggie. Our minds can be scary sometimes. Our thoughts get out of control, at times.”
“Thoughts. Night thoughts.” Closing my eyes used to take me to safety; now, it takes me into a hell I’ve never experienced before. Not when Mother was taken. Not when I was chipped. “Why would anyone want to have those?”
I walk past Hayden, awaiting his response. I repeat the question.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hayden says. “I thought you were being...oh, never mind.”
“I’m being serious. Why does anyone want to suffer through that pain?”
The bluntness and familiarity of his answer catches me off guard. “Because we need to process things. Thoughts move with our emotions. They let us grieve. They let us celebrate. They let us, well, think. They let us be someone.”
“That’s what Lexa said,” I whisper to myself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” I move to face Hayden. “It’s new to me.”
“Ah, I see.” He smiles and grabs my hands. “And you made it through it. You fought through those horrible thoughts.” I jerk my hands back.
“And almost took your head off in the process.” I crack a half-smile, the most I’ve done since waking up in this gray room.
“Oh, this…” Hayden points to his chin. “This is hard as a rock. You can’t hurt my chin of steel.”
“Are they always that bad?”
Hayden lets out a soft giggle. “Your punches? No, I’ve felt worse.”
“No. The night thoughts.”
“I know. I was just trying to calm you down some.” The flush in his face makes his tiny freckles disappear. “I’m not the best at comforting people, I guess.”
Another half-smile. “No. Thank you. You’re fine.” My eye twitches, probably due to the sincerity of thanking someone who might have a part in Dad’s shooting, but if Hayden hadn’t been here, who knows what would have happened. I couldn’t last too much longer stuck in my head. Too much, too soon.
“How long was I asleep?” I ask.
“It’s been a day since I saw you,” he says. “You needed the sleep. It’s mid-afternoon. You’re probably starving.”
“I don’t feel like eating.”
“Okay, Maggie. Well, how about we get you out of here for a little bit. Let’s take a walk, get some air. It might help. Being cooped up in here can’t be good. I can show you around the place and…”
“…tell me about my dad…and my brother.”
Hayden pauses, scratching his head. “Sure, we can see if Johnny is around. If you’re ready, of course. I think he would like to meet you too.”
“Fine.”
“And to answer your question,” Hayden says, “night thoughts are not always bad. They can be great. My best ideas come to me in night thoughts.”
If he is to blame for all of this, I don’t want to know what his best ideas are.
I also don’t know if knowing the truth about that night will help or make things worse, if it can get any worse. I do know, though, that my brain won’t shut up without knowing. So it’s worth the risk.
“I’m ready,” I say. “Let’s go.”
I accompany Hayden down a dark tunnel, lit only by flashing fluorescent bulbs with a purplish tint. It’s what I imagine a hospital at night looks like. The lights don’t flash bright enough to give the walkway much light, but enough to show the outline of doors similar to the one in my cell.
“Are there people in those rooms?” I ask. “Are they like mine?”
“They are living quarters, yes. But not exactly like yours. You’re special. You got the luxury suite, toilet and all.”
Without seeing Hayden’s facial features, I can’t tell if he’s trying to be funny again. It doesn’t matter. I don’t feel like laughing.
“Johnny thinks you’re special,” Hayden says. “He’s usually a good judge of character.”
This Johnny he keeps mentioning must be a leader or something. What does it mean when a killer thinks you’re special? I shiver.
“Who is he?” I ask, fishing for answers. I’m not as clever as Melli when it comes to subtly getting information out of people, so I have to be direct.
“You’ll meet him soon.” Hayden continues to walk and I follow. He changes the subject. “There aren’t people in the rooms right now. Everyone is working. Everyone has a task. That’s how we make this safe house work.”
There it is again. Safe house. “What do you mean safe house? How am I safe? From what?”
“I just mean that people don’t want to hurt you here.”
“They just want to hurt others…” I mutter. “Right?”
Hayden s
tops, turns to me, and takes a hold of my arm. “Maggie, you’ll get your answers. I promise. I know it’s easy for me to say, and you don’t want to hear it, but please be patient with me. Just for a little while longer.”
I examine his face. It looks dark and cold in this dim, purplish light. A chill runs through my body as I look at his eyes. They look different. I didn’t notice it before. The left eye reflects more light than the right when the bulbs flash. It also looks a touch darker brown than the other.
It’s not real. It’s glass.
Hayden must know I figured something out because he starts marching forward again.
“I’m just the errand boy, right now,” Hayden says.
I want to ask him about the glass eye, but I can’t be sure it wasn’t the lights playing tricks on me. We’ve also had enough awkward moments already. I’ll save that one for another time.
Catching up to Hayden, I look up at him. I realize he’s about six inches taller than me. I didn’t pick up on that before, either. He glances down at me, only for a second. It’s a kind look.
We continue the journey in silence. The passage opens up into a larger area. Bright bulbs—yellow, red, orange, and green—flash rapidly on and off. They light the entire area. The lights are connected to panels with hundreds of switches. Maybe thousands. Both sides of the room are covered by these panels, lights, and switches. I didn’t pay enough attention in science class to learn exactly how electricity works, but I would guess there is enough power in this room to light up most of Cleveland.
“What are these used for?” I ask.
“You’ll see.” He doesn’t stop walking.
We arrive at a locked metal door at the end of the tunnel. Hayden doesn’t use a key card, even though there’s a slot. Instead, he presses his middle three fingertips against a silver pad. A green light surrounding the door flips on, and a series of high-pitched beeps welcomes us through.
“Just an errand boy, huh?” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I do a lot of things,” Hayden says. “Come on. This room will amaze you.”
The new area is as large, if not larger, than the power room, and it has at least as many panels lining the walls. The room is filled with personal touch-screen computer stations. Dozens of people are seated on either side of an aisle, rapidly using fingers on both hands to flip through screens that appear in midair.
I gasp as I examine the group of people. I’ve never seen anything like it in the Union. Males and females of all skin complexions, hair styles, and clothes. Although no one appears to be older than thirty or younger than twelve, the ages vary as much as the appearances.
Above the room, an enormous monitor covers the entire ceiling. The monitor is divided into many squares, about the same number as there are computers in the room. Heads go up and down, looking for individual projections to the large monitor. It doesn’t take me long to recognize that all the individual projections appear in a square on the large monitor.
“This is…” I start to say.
“Incredible, right?”
“Insane.”
There is a brief lapse in their work when I’m noticed. Several people whisper to their neighbors and glance in my direction. It only lasts for a moment. Then, everyone resumes their work.
As I’m investigating the projected screens, I notice someone at a cornered station. She looks familiar. She has bleached buzzed hair and a tattoo on her exposed arm.
Makayla. From the Garbage Spot. That’s her. Is this YRL headquarters? Why would they kidnap me? I survey the room for other familiar faces. For Melli’s face. I don’t recognize anyone else.
“That girl over there,” I say, pointing to the corner. “I know her. Her name is Makayla, right?”
“Yes, that’s Kay. She’s one of Johnny’s top Hounds. She’s talented in every field.”
“What’s a Hound?”
“The Hounds do everything here. They join the Techies with computer work. They perform missions with the Runners. They supervise. Direct.”
I stop listening, as Hayden continues to talk. I march toward Makayla, maneuvering between computers.
From behind me, I hear a call. “Maggie, wait.” I ignore Hayden’s request.
I trip on a cord and bump into a dark-skinned girl, possibly of Middle Eastern descent. She looks about my age, maybe a year older. Her purple eye shadow matches her hair. Her nose piercing causes me to grimace. The gauge enters through the tip of her nose and exits at the bridge. She lets me stare for a few seconds, as I attempt to straighten up.
“Watch it, hotshot,” the girl warns.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t wanna hear it. Get out of here. This room ain’t for newbie ‘burb chicks. And if ya don’t stop your staring, my fist will do it for ya.” I take heed and scurry past.
I’m a few stations away from Makayla’s when Hayden blocks my route. “Kay’s busy right now. We’ll get with her later.”
Through clenched teeth, I say, “I need to talk to her. Now. She knows something.” I try to shove Hayden out of the way, to no avail. He stands his ground firmly.
“This is not the place to make a scene, Maggie.” Hayden, who has mostly seemed gentle to this point, doesn’t show any signs of relenting.
We have become the center of attention. I don’t want that right now, so begrudgingly, I let him escort me back the way I came. Right past rhino-ring girl.
“Yo, hotshot.” A few people around her look my way. “Daddy Hayden keepin’ a tight leash on ya, huh?” Laughter pierces my ears, making me dizzy and nauseous.
I close my eyes. Daddy. She said Daddy. No. No. No. I open my eyes. The same faces taunt me. My heart wants to lash out at these people, but my body isn’t committed. It won’t allow it. And neither will Hayden, who grabs my hand and leads me back to the main aisle.
In a shaking voice, I say, “She’s awful.”
“Gia?” Hayden says. “Yeah, you have no idea. I’d avoid her at all costs, if I were you. Hell, I avoid her at all costs. For real.”
Once I compose myself, I look back at Makayla. “This is the Youth Rebel League, isn’t it?”
“Umm…” Hayden says with a blank stare. “Not quite Maggie. This isn’t the YRL.”
“It has to be. That’s Makayla. She recruited me. With Jack and Seth and Grant and…Melli. Are they here? Is Melli here?”
The thought of Melli having a part in this terror is almost too much for my stomach. I’m relieved when Hayden’s blank face tells me he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“Maggie, I don’t know those names. I guess they could be here. I don’t meet all the new people. This isn’t the YRL.”
I peek at Makayla one more time. I swear she notices me. I nod my head, trying to send a sign of some sort. She doesn’t respond to me. I follow her eyes to the ceiling monitor.
All of the projected screens are filled with words, with sentences.
What do I have to do tomorrow? Clean, shop, study. Ugh, schedule an appointment with the doctor. I should have taken care of that today. Why didn’t I? Other things always pop up. Maybe I should make a list. Nah, I’m already in bed. I’ll make the list in the morning. It’s no big deal. I can clean, shop, study, and schedule an appointment. No point stressing about it now.
A red X appears on the screen and the words disappear. What is this place? I search for a different screen.
I’m so stupid. Suspended again. Why the hell did I do that? I should watch the news more. I’d know what’s going on in the world. I need a new tablet. Mine is getting old. Punching a kid at school! Who does that?! Just think about the news, dude. The news is dumb. It’s all a bunch of crap. Medals and indoctrination. That kid deserved it. How much do they run for these days?
Before my eyes, the sentences flip around.
I’m so stupid. Suspended again. Punching a kid at school! Why the hell did I do that? Who does that? That kid deserved it.
Just think about the
news, dude. I should watch the news more. I’d know what’s going on in the world. The news is dumb. It’s all a bunch of crap. Medals and indoctrination.
I need a new tablet. Mine is getting old. How much do they run these days?
“Incredible, huh?” Hayden says.
“What is this?” I respond.
“The technology transforms random thoughts into something that makes sense. The thoughts become whole, arranged in an order that one can comprehend. It helps us locate Probables. Unfavorables who are in danger.”
“You can do that? I thought only Coats could do something like that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about us yet.”
The sentences flash off and become moderately rearranged into a full narrative.
I’m so stupid for getting suspended again. Why the hell did I punch that kid at school? The kid deserved it, but who does that?
I should watch the news more, so I’d know what’s going on in the world. But the news is a bunch of crap. All we ever see is Medal ceremonies and all we ever listen to is indoctrination.
My tablet is getting old. I should buy a new one. I wonder how much they cost.
A green checkmark covers this screen before the words vanish. I look at one more.
I guess I finished most of my chores today. Mom and Dad will be content, I suppose. Maybe I can get more done before they get home tomorrow. They shipped my brother out West. Screw the chores. I have an excuse. Washburn did it. The Coats got him. Mom and Dad go on a camping trip. Brian and I liked camping trips. I guess mom and Dad needed this one. Patching things up when Brian is at-risk, though? Selfish. That’s why Dad went. I’ll kill Washburn. I’ll kill all the Coats. Brian, I’ll find you. If Mom and Dad don’t help, screw them. I got you, bro. Bathroom duty. Check. Mowing the lawn. Check. Painting the garage. Uncheck. Where can I get a gun? It’s on.
Rearrangement number one flashes. I shift my neck to give it a little crack.