Unfavorables

by JM Butcher

  Jack gives me time to process this. I close my eyes. I picture helpless human beings struggling to escape from the rubble as the responders just watch. I picture Billy’s mugshot on TV—the anger on his face. An anger I never saw on his face during his morning talks.

  “You made Billy kill those people?” I ask. “You turned him into a monster.”

  “Whoa. You have got it all wrong,” Jack responds. He pulls a navy bandana from his back pocket and offers it to me to dry the sweat. “Billy found the YRL a while back. When he failed the Exam, I told him about my side project. He willingly joined. Enthusiastically joined! He even planned the staging of his own kidnapping. And when he got here, he begged me to let him go on missions, to be a Runner.”

  “A Transgressor.” I clarify. “A murderer.”

  “A hero!” Jack yells, reddening. “Those rich bastards that work for Mills are as guilty as Mills himself is. It is because of all of them that you have been shut down half your life. You think Washburn runs the show on his own? Not a chance! Patrick Mills is the man. He manufactures the chips. He manufactures the drugs. He profits off your misery. Washburn is just his show pony. The world is a better place with less of those crooks.”

  Thinking about the bloody and rotting bodies under the building, I gag and spit up a mouthful of vomit. I put the bandana in front of my lips as if it has the miraculous power to prevent an all-out puke episode.

  Jack doesn’t wait for me to control my queasiness before saying, “Ask Hayden what he thinks. He is Patrick Mills’ son.”

  My nausea turns to confusion and anger. “You mean to tell me that the Hayden is the son of the most powerful person in the world and that he schemes to take down his own dad?”

  “The guy cut out his own eye to remove his chip. Hayden is dedicated. Although I am a bit concerned about him after this last run.”

  “He…” I start to say.

  “…was with Billy. Yes. He blew up his own father’s building. That is dedication.”

  “…cut out his own eye?”

  “You’re getting it now.” Jack playfully slaps my shoulder. “And those Suits you have seen…” Jack points to his left eye.

  “The eyepatches?”

  “You guessed it. Not everyone can find an eye replacement.” He’s so entertained by all of this. So proud of himself. “To be a Suit or a Runner, you have to be all-in. I liked the whole eye-patch touch, but the unannounced visit from those actual Gray Coats to your school makes me wonder if those numbskulls are catching on. We never should have sent one of our own back in to search Billy’s locker. A rare lapse of judgment from Kay.”

  The Gray Coat I ran into before history class—that was one of Jack’s Suits? Is that why he eyed me so intently? He knew I was on the recruitment list.

  “Wait.” A dreaded memory spirals in my head. “My mother. The Gray Coats. They had eyepatches. Does that mean…” My voice trails off, hoping Jack will finish the sentence for me.

  “I am sorry, Maggie.” I don’t know if his apology is sincere or not. My brain is mush and I’m sick of hearing apologies. “I cannot tell you anything about your mother. Our patch idea developed less than two years ago. Hayden came up with it. Maybe it was a thing back in the day. Hell, maybe your mother came up with it. One day, hopefully, you can ask her about that.”

  “How can I do that?”

  Jack smiles. “I find it hard to believe that the Tara Gordon is just locked up.” He looks at the sky. “She has to be out there. Fighting the good fight.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head violently. “No. No. No. She wouldn’t abandon us. She’d come back. No, Jack. I can’t…I just can’t.” I crouch down, holding my head.

  “Okay, okay.” Jack leaves me space.

  “And you honestly believe that domestic transgression is justifiable?” I ask.

  “All of us do. It is the only way. Sometimes terror is the only way to fight terror,” Jack says.

  Water on water. Violence on violence. Terror on terror. Does it actually make sense?

  Jack says, “We hope you will assist us.”

  “How am I going to do that? I thought I was helping Melli. And Olivia. And the YRL.”

  “The YRL is helpful, but it’s not—”

  “So you used them,” I say. “You used them to get to me. To get the daughter of Tara Gordon.”

  “Yes, Maggie,” Jack admits. “The YRL has been great for my recruitment process. However, it’s not just your mother. It is you. You are going to think. That is what we need you to do. The Girl without Thoughts is going to think…like I said before.”

  I’m going to think. What does that even mean? The other night I thought about birds and colors and beaches. Then, those nightmare thoughts. How can that help anyone?

  “And before you worry,” Jack says, “the Coats will never see your night thoughts. We hacked your chip. And those of thousands of other Unfavorables across the Union. The Coats will not find them. Their night thoughts are safe with us. Your night thoughts are safe with us.”

  Safe. Is anyone safe? They’ve hacked the chips. Jack, the Catholic schoolboy from the Garbage Spot, has infiltrated government programs. He’s claiming to be good, yet he’s terrorized people. And according to him, all of it is for the good of our future.

  “I know this is a lot to process,” Jack says. “Let’s go back in. I will have someone escort you around the premises, show you how things operate. You are not a prisoner here. If at any point you want to leave, you are free to go. I only ask that you think about staying. We went through a lot of trouble to get you here, and you have suffered a great loss. I hope your sacrifice is not in vain. We need you.” Jack pats me on the shoulder as he passes me on his way back to the bunker. He descends into the hole.

  My sacrifice? I didn’t sacrifice anything. He took it.

  Jack’s already halfway down the stairs. Now would be the chance. I look at the river. It’s not too wide. If I make it across and to the overpass, I’ll be free. Jack wouldn’t dare apprehend me in front of passing vehicles. He definitely won’t risk exposing his hideout. I could hitch a ride back to Columbus—find Tyler and check on Dad. I should run.

  No. I’d just put others at risk. Jack would find me.

  Or, perhaps worse, I’ll never find the answers I’m looking for. I need to know about Dad and Tyler.

  And even Mother.

  I sigh as I climb back down into the hole. Jack waits at the metal door with a victorious grin on his face. He knew that I was not a flight risk.

  Jack’s seen my thoughts. Jack might know me better than I know myself.

  Chapter 11

  I speak to address a recent concern: that hackers might have technology equal to that of the White Coats. This is simply ludicrous. It, however, is true that high-level hacker groups might be interfering with our monitoring process—flagging thoughts and keeping Unfavorables from government imprisonment.

  We are aware of these groups who provide refuge to Unfavorables. They also keep Unfavorables out of the public eye. It has become community policing that we can use to our advantage—allowing us to save our resources and save space in our prisons.

  We follow these groups, and if legitimate threats are found, the Gray Coats will put a stop to them.

  -White Coat Intelligence Officer Preston Smith

  When I get back to Jack’s office, there’s an escort waiting for me. Rhino-ring Gia. This can’t be coincidence. She’s as annoyed to be with me as I am to be with her. Actually, she’s probably more annoyed.

  “Gia,” Jack says, “have you met Maggie yet?” He has to know the answer to that. Why else would she be here? I don’t know what his intentions are. You would think he’d try to make me feel a little more at ease, following our conversation.

  Not in the mood to be spat on again, I answer first. “Yes, we’ve met. Right, Gia? It was you who helped me up earlier.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Gia smirks. “You’re the one who tripped over herself. Ya better watch yo
ur step next time. Ya don’t wanna hurt yourself.”

  I nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning my head, I say, “So, Jack, that’s it? You have nothing else to say?”

  “His name is Johnny,” Gia snaps. “Show him some manners.”

  To Gia’s dissatisfaction, Jack says, “It is fine. She knows me as Jack. Let’s not complicate things.”

  “Okay, Johnny,” Gia says, not making eye contact with him.

  “Okay, Gia,” Jack says, “I want you to show Maggie around. Anything she requests to see, you show her; anything she asks to know, you tell her.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gia sighs. “Come on hotshot, let’s go.”

  Before I close the door behind us, Jack calls out, “Oh, and when you are finished, please bring Maggie back here? I have a couple more things I want to talk to her about, and I know she isn’t finished questioning me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gia pushes me forward. “Walk.”

  Before reaching the intersection, Gia pins me against the wall. “Let’s get this straight. I don’t know what Johnny sees in ya, but don’t expect special treatment from me. Got it?” She nudges me harder, causing me to grimace. “You’re a newbie ‘burb girl, and I’ma treat you like one.”

  “Yes, sir.” I mock her. She can spit on me if she wants, but I’m not going to let her walk all over me. “But you heard Jack. You do what I say.”

  I’m feeling a little rebellious. Like Olivia. I actually miss the overtalkative rebel girl. What I’d give to see that unwashed AFI shirt, especially if Tyler made it to her or Melli and the YRL. At the very least, he made it to Lexa. Jack doesn’t want to upset me anymore than he has, so I’m fairly confident Tyler is safe for the time being.

  Dad is too. I have to tell myself that.

  “Whatever, hotshot.” Gia’s nostrils flare. She gives me one more push against the wall before releasing me. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  Rubbing the back of my shoulder to ease some pain, I follow her down the dimly lit hallway.

  If Jack and Hayden aren’t willing to give up any information, I can’t imagine Gia will. That is, if she knows anything. I am going to have to play this smarter. Direct questions aren’t working. If I tried to ask Gia anything, she’d probably spit on me or push me into a wall.

  I need to try something new. I need to be smarter.

  What would Melli do? She’d adapt to the situation, like she did with the Gray Coats at the Garbage Spot.

  I decide to try a new approach. “I take it you’re a Hound.”

  “Yeah,” she answers. “What of it? What does a ‘burb girl know about Hounds?”

  “Hayden said that Hounds do it all. Data analysis. Missions. So you’re a really big deal. I know that much.”

  “Damn straight,” Gia says. She smiles. She liked that. Maybe, since I fed her pride, she’ll be a little less hostile and a little more forthcoming.

  “What is Hayden?” I ask. “He said he was just an errand boy. Is that why he was with me while you were searching for a Probable? That’s what they’re called, right? Probables?”

  “Yes,” Gia says. “We didn’t go out. When we identify a Probable, we get together to plan. We ain’t dumb enough to jump in blindly. Come on, hotshot, get a brain. Oh wait, Johnny owns yours.” I let her think she scored a victory.

  “While you’re doing that, Hayden is just on Maggie-duty.” I fake a laugh.

  “Look,” Gia says, continuing to move forward. “Hayden is a prick. But he’s the real deal. Ya know? A true Hound. He’s shook after yesterday. Johnny’s keeping him busy with ya, to get his mind off that…” She must not want to divulge too much. I already know, though.

  I know about Patrick Mills’ son working with Billy. To take down his own dad. How much hate do you have to have to go after family? Or to abandon family? If I do ever see Mother again, I’ll ask her that.

  Gia says, “Pretty sure Johnny wants ya as a Thinker. Ya don’t look like ya could do much else.” She sneers. “I guess if Hayden don’t come around, ya could run errands with him.”

  A Thinker. Yes, that’s what Jack said by the river. He made that perfectly clear. You are going to think. Thinkers must be pretty important if Jack needs me as badly as he says.

  Before I have time to ask about Thinkers, we arrive at what I guess is the cafeteria. As soon as we get there, Gia abandons me. It’s just as well. I don’t have the desire to eat with her.

  I search the room for Billy. I want to see it with my own eyes. Unfortunately, there’s no sign of Billy, but Hayden is here. He’s by himself at the back corner table. I’m still mad at him for calling me “her” in front of Jack, and am a little leery of being around the son of Patrick Mills, but I decide to join him anyway.

  As I walk to his table, I sense a room full of eyes hungrily observing my every step. After all, I’m the new girl who was kidnapped, and I’m the daughter of their hero. Are they jealous like Gia? Are they impressed? Or are they waiting for me to snap?

  “Hey,” I greet Hayden. “Are all these seats taken?” I choose to take the polite route.

  Hayden smiles. “Does it look like it? I made sure that you could have your pick.” He winks.

  If Hayden is the “real deal,” why is he alone? Did he freak out, like Gia suggested? Is he really a prick? Or is it that he’ll forever be the son of the Patrick Mills?

  Instead of sitting across from Hayden, I sit next to him. If people are going to watch me, I rather they stare at my face. And I want to be able to stare back.

  Makayla is with a few people I remember seeing in the computer room. The urge to approach her is strong, but I don’t want to make a scene here. There will be time when my tour with Gia resumes. I need to take this time to calm my grumbling stomach.

  Across the room, two tables are occupied by separate sets of Suits. Most of them have eyepatches on. This entices me to scope out the eyepatch scene for familiar faces, although I’m not certain I’d be able point out the ones who were in my house.

  “How’s your tour going?” Hayden’s attempt at small talk briefly interrupts my search. “Gia’s a character, huh? Told ya she’s nuts. Sorry I couldn’t help you avoid her.” A kid walks over and drops a tray of food in front of each of us. Meatloaf smothered in ketchup, mashed potatoes, green beans, and slaw. The ultimate American meal.

  “She’s absolutely nuts,” I respond while diving into the mashed potatoes. They could use more salt, but I’m too hungry to care. “And if she kills me, I blame you.”

  I fix my eyes back on the Suits’ tables. Most of them are too occupied with their food to raise their heads. One head turns in my direction for a brief moment. Then back to the food. I do the same.

  Continuing to investigate the Suits’ tables, I ask, “Hayden, how are you doing? Gia told me about yesterday.”

  He drops his fork. “What did she tell you?” He looks angry. Should I have told him the truth, that Jack told me?

  “Nothing,” I say. “Just that you had a rough day. Do you want to talk about it?”

  A Suit looks in my direction. He doesn’t look away. One eye is covered by an eyepatch, and the other appears to be squinting at me.

  “What did she say?” Hayden’s tone is semi-cross. He’s probably repeated the question more than once.

  Putting a piece of meatloaf into my mouth, I mutter, “I…”

  The eye isn’t squinting. It’s being forced closed. Like it’s swollen. I reach for my elbow under the table. It’s tender, from when I dealt a blow to the Suit carrying me down the stairs. I think my elbow caught the side of his head, but maybe it collided with his eye. As I squint in his direction, I notice a bluish-greenish bruise surrounding his eye.

  “Maggie? Are you even listening?”

  “Hold on a second,” I say.

  My palms sweat as heat creeps up my neck. My legs shake, as anxiety washes over me. I spit out the piece of meatloaf and stand up. My hands are at my side, a knife in one and a fork in the other.

  “What are you
doing?” Hayden asks. He pulls at the back of my shirt. “Oh no, no, Maggie. Not here. It’s not worth it. Sit back down.” I hold my position. “Please, Maggie.”

  The Suit slaps the guy to his left, and now two sets of piercing eyes are fixed on me. To my surprise, both of these Suits stand up with their trays and set them at the washing site. They glance back once more before exiting the commons area.

  “Sit down,” Hayden repeats. “You’re making a scene.”

  I comply. “How?” I retort. “I was just standing up, breathing in the experience of dining with homewreckers and Transgressors. Including you, Hayden Mills.”

  I regret the jab at Hayden right away. I should’ve waited to see if he told me who his dad is before I ambushed him. But before I can say I’m sorry, Gia and her crew approach us

  “Look at these clowns,” Gia says and sits down opposite Hayden and me, one lackey on either side of her. I resist acknowledging them so as to keep my scowl on Gia.

  “Aren’t you off-duty?” I ask. “This is your break.”

  “Oh, babysitters never get a break.” Gia playfully elbows both of her friends. “Especially when the baby is about to make a damn scene in the commons area. Come on, hotshot. Use your brain.”

  “Maggie’s fine,” Hayden says. He sets his silverware on his tray and wipes his mouth with a napkin. I’m grateful he comes to my defense. “Get out of here and stop telling stories that you know nothing about.”

  Gia’s face scrunches. “What?” Hayden still is under the impression that Gia’s the one who told me about him. “Whatever. Your partner here wanted to check up on ya. He heard you’re struggling.” She turns to me. “Maggie, you remember Billy, don’t ya?”

  I gasp. It’s definitely Billy. The fuzzy mustache is still intact. He’s not the Billy from school, though. Not the Billy that talked about his relationship problems, school struggles, and opinions on mass shootings—as manifested in his night thoughts. Not the Billy that went from being an outcast to someone who had at least twenty people listening intently to him every morning. Not the Billy I felt connected to.