Unequal

by B. E. Sanderson

  “Ready to talk now that we’re alone?”

  “I don’t know what we’d have to talk about Citizen Equalizer. Or would it be more appropriate if I called you Citizen Executioner?”

  He clicked his tongue. Rue flinched away from the same sound he’d once given for an incorrect math problem. “So angry, Rue. You didn’t used to be so angry.”

  “I didn’t used to be a lot of things.”

  Winston edged closer to the bed, avoiding the grimier spots. He appeared to want to sit beside her, but something stopped him. Rue wished she could believe he could feel shame over what he’d become. More probable, the reason came down to simple filth. He’d never been tolerant of anything less than sanitary.

  One glance at his gloved hands indicated his neurosis had progressed farther than she would’ve wished on anyone. “They have drugs for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder,” she said before she could stop herself.

  Color drained from Winston’s face. “They have drugs for the Unequal, too, Rue. Do you think we should play tradesy? A little something to help me and something stronger to help you?”

  She flinched as both their barbs struck home.

  “But we don’t need to discuss such things at the moment.” A knock sounded at the door to her cell. “This is the first time I’ve seen my niece in more than fifteen years,” he said, raising his voice to be heard through the steel without shouting.

  “I understand, Citizen Equalizer, but your order to be notified if the other awakened. What do you want done with—?”

  “Remove him to my private meeting room. I’ll be along in a moment.”

  Even the cadence of Howard’s voice had been destroyed by this person. If not for his eyes, he could’ve been a completely different person acting the part of her long lost uncle.

  He touched her cheek and her skin crawled. “Sorry to leave you after such a short time, Little Rue, but I have business to attend to.”

  “Bruno?”

  Winston gave her a strange grin. “His name, I assume? See? You’re being a help already, and we haven’t yet begun.” He retraced the same careful set of steps across the room to the door. “I’ll return after I make your friend more at ease with his current situation. It shouldn’t take too long, but I’ll have dinner sent in. You’re a little pale.”

  The door closed behind him and he was gone, leaving Rue to her fears. This time they were less for her than for Bruno. She could easily imagine the suffering he’d endure at the hands of her loving uncle. One fat teardrop rolled slowly down her cheek and for once, she let it. What good would it do to dash it off? She was trapped. The man who’d rescued her before was the one who’d turned her over to the DOE. The one who’d captured her before wouldn’t be able to send anyone in—not with the chaos occurring in the city. Justin had enough on his hands. He couldn’t worry about one Unequal with dozens in danger.

  He doesn’t know… About the traitor in his midst or about my disappearance. As far as she could tell, Crispin may have already gone back into the fold. Her desertion was easy enough to explain. With Bruno gone, too, Crispin merely had to make it seem as if they’d run off together.

  As the possibilities trampled one another in a fight to terrorize her, Rue retreated farther into her own misery. The game she had played so well for so long was over. Her chance at being a real doctor, little more than an illusion. Her chance at freedom, so much smoke and mirrors.

  Rue had descended so far within herself by the time the door to her cell opened, she didn’t bother looking up. Her eyes stayed focused on her knees. Moving required too much effort.

  “I brought you food an hour ago,” Crispin said. “Why haven’t you eaten any of it?”

  Her hair hung in a veil around her face, but she couldn’t muster the will to push it away—not even to glare at him. Somewhere in the back of her head lay the idea she should rail against this turncoat. But after a minute, she could only manage to lift one shoulder in answer.

  “Winston says you need to eat, so eat.”

  The hair swinging back and forth in her peripheral vision was the single indication she moved at all.

  Footsteps told her he was approaching. A small flicker of self-preservation told her he was going to strike, but the barest flinch was impossible. Let him beat her senseless. The hope of unconsciousness was the best hope she had.

  Instead, he brushed her hair away from her face, gathering it into a ponytail and securing it. “You have to eat, Rue. You need your strength.”

  With everything taken from her, she couldn’t imagine why she would need the energy required to breathe. A sick chuckle broke the room’s silence. After a moment, she realized the laughter came from her own mouth. In a way, the unhappy sound added steel to her backbone. It wasn’t much, but it was more of Rue than she’d allowed herself to feel since Crispin’s betrayal.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Her words were no more than a breath, but he was close enough to hear them. He took a step back and some small satisfaction added to her growing sense of will. “What exactly do I need strength for? Get her back to normal so the next torture will break her down again. Is that it?”

  “Winston says—”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what my uncle says.”

  “You used to.”

  “And then I grew up. Tell Uncle Hank he helped immensely with that, by the way.” Her gaze fell on a device near the top corner of the room. “Unless he’s already listening. Thank you, Uncle Hank.” She tried to insert a measure of contriteness into her tone, if only to piss him off, but her anger wouldn’t let her pull it off.

  “He’s not listening. He had to go out into the city.”

  Something in his voice made her turn her attention back to Crispin. “He’s going after Justin, isn’t he? Or have you given him the hospital? How many ailing and injured are you going to kill this week?” A sick image occurred to her. “But being ill makes them Unequal, isn’t it? A little pain, a little cough, makes a person outside the norm.”

  “Don’t. It isn’t what you think.”

  She pushed herself up to sit ramrod straight and stare daggers at the traitor. “Then explain it better, because I really don’t understand. How could someone like you, knowing what you know, help someone like him?” Her voice dropped until she could’ve been talking to herself. “How could the man who was my uncle become someone like him?”

  Crispin tried to take her hand, but she pushed him away. “He’s a good man, Rue. He’s the same man who was taken from you all those years ago.” Her eyes could’ve killed him with one glare but to her disappointment, he didn’t shy away. “I mean it. He’s trying to make people see what they did all those years ago was wrong.”

  “Maybe you should’ve tricked a psychiatrist instead of a physician,” she said. “You all need more help with your mental health than your physical.”

  “Don’t you see?” He grasped her hands before she could them pull away. His grip tightened until she struggled to not cry out. “Those people out there… They’re the ones who let the DOE come into existence. Hank’s trying to show them how wrong they were so, once he finally dismantles the agency, they’ll never create another one.”

  Crispin’s eyes told her he believed every word he’d spoken, but the tone of his voice once again told her the words weren’t his own. Reminiscent of when she first met him and saw how he was around Justin. Rue suppressed a shudder. Crispin was too much of a zealot to form a cogent thought on his own. He simply rode whatever wind was blowing nearby.

  “And you have to help him,” he continued. “This war… Too many people are getting hurt and dying. We need you to fix them, so they can go back out and stop this. I had hoped maybe after you saw what happened to Max, you’d understand this war can’t go on. But the old man’s death encouraged you to help Justin.” He held her tighter and gave her a vicious shake. “I can’t let you help those people anymore. You need to help our people and let them face their injuries on their own. It’s th
e only way they’ll learn.”

  She parted her lips to tell Crispin exactly what kind of sick bastard he was, but the glaze in his eyes stayed her tongue. Nothing she could say would affect him. He was certain of his course and wasn’t about to let her alter it. The one thing she could do was agree and hope he let her loose. Too much more of his strangle hold and she’d lose all feeling in her hands.

  “I think I understand.” She tried to modulate her voice and project a calm she didn’t feel. “You have injured allies and need me to heal them.” He gave the barest nod but didn’t release her. “I made an oath to help people, Crispin. I won’t go back on…”

  “You will not help those people ever again.”

  Realizing her mistake, Rue tried to backtrack. “I meant I have to help your injured friends. I couldn’t walk away from them if I wanted to—”

  “Why would you want to? We are doing what’s right.” He pushed her away from him so hard, her head hit the wall. “Maybe after a few more days in this cell, you’ll see. Hank wanted me to feed you and then take you upstairs to a better room, but I’ll convince him otherwise. You need some time to consider what we stand for, and what better place than here.” He released a humorless chuckle. “I remember how much you enjoyed your stay last time.”

  The gentle man she had come to care about was gone. If Crispin had his way, she’d be stretched on some ancient rack until she became as much of a zealot as he was. She needed to escape before he tried. If she died in the process, a quick death would be better than long, slow torture.

  “I’ll be back once I have news about Justin’s demise.”

  Crispin turned away from her and she seized the one chance she might have. Gripping her hands together to form one fist, she swung at the back of Crispin’s neck as hard as she could. Years of wringing mops and pushing brooms didn’t let her down as her muscular hands connected. He grunted once and slid to the floor like a sack of laundry.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Rue gazed at Crispin’s crumpled body and sent a silent request for Hippocrates’ forgiveness. Once she had checked his pulse and made him more comfortable, his welfare was in someone else’s hands. She had better people to save—starting with Justin and moving on from there.

  She would never be able to save them all, but stopping her uncle would go a long way toward saving a lot of them.

  Except before she could save anyone, she had to save herself. Guards could be waiting outside to snatch her the second she stepped into the hall. If they were, getting disappeared would be the least of her problems. One look at their comrade on the floor and they would probably do their level best to put her out next to him.

  Staring the door for too many seconds, she finally steeled her courage and made the best plan she could. First things first, whatever Crispin had with him would help. It couldn’t hurt to search. Not that shoving her hand into his pants pocket would be the most pleasant thing she’d ever done. In fact, if she had a choice, she’d prefer digging around inside an open wound. When her fingers closed around a set of old-fashioned keys, she changed her mind.

  No sooner had she commandeered his few useful possessions than a thought struck her. Not only was she barefoot, she wasn’t dressed for running around the city at night. Crispin’s socks were thick and warm, but his shoes were too big. Add one long-sleeved shirt over the top of her scrubs and her outfit was as good as it was going to get.

  Several short, scuffled steps brought Rue to the door. She assumed it was unlocked and for once, her assumptions didn’t fail her. Opening it a crack, she peered out into a dimly lit hall. A dimly lit, empty hall, she corrected herself as she slipped out. A few more seconds secured her ex-friend in her own prison, and she set off in what she hoped was the best way out.

  She couldn’t remember the path Crispin used after he broke her out. In her mind, the route was filled with twists and turns. Maybe it had been his intention all along. To make it so she could never find her way out on her own. It was entirely plausible he’d always known she’d be imprisoned again. Eventually. No sense teaching the prisoner how to break free from her jail.

  Every step along the way, she expected someone to grab her and drag her back. The route didn’t seem the least bit familiar. Each door was identical to the one before. Hell, they probably didn’t put me in the same cell. If the situation was reversed, she wouldn’t put Crispin anywhere he’d been before.

  A few meters further and Rue felt hopelessly lost. Going back was out of the question, but the longer she went forward, the more freedom slipped away.

  A muffled groan sounded in the silence, making her skin shiver. The night Uncle Howard had read a book of ghost stories jumped into her mind. Ghosts weren’t real, but with the DOE, anything could be possible. Thousands of dead Unequals couldn’t find a better place to haunt.

  Who’s there? Unwilling to speak the words, she tried to determine where the sound came from. Maybe some other imprisoned Unequal needed help. Whoever it was, they could escape together.

  As unlucky as she’d been, she didn’t dare hope it was the one friend she had in the godforsaken place. If he was alive, no way would they have placed Bruno in a cell anywhere near hers. Winston couldn’t take a chance they’d reunite. Her uncle was too smart.

  As Rue reached the source of the noise, she found herself facing a locked door identical to her own. Behind it, a low rumbling reverberated. The more she concentrated on it, the more it sounded like her bearish friend. Of course, wanting something to be true doesn’t mean it is.

  Taking Crispin’s keys out of her pocket, she tried fitting each one into the antiquated lock. The fourth one slid in and turned easily. One small push gave her entry into a space so similar to the one she’d left behind, she wondered if she’d walked in circles. The body on the floor certainly could’ve been Crispin’s, until she moved closer. The man on the floor was definitely larger.

  I guess Uncle Hank isn’t as smart as he used to be.

  “Bruno?” she whispered, giving his arm a slight shake.

  The beast beneath her growled. She barely had time to jump away before a hand would’ve closed around her ankle. “I won’t tell you,” he mumbled. “Go away.”

  “Bruno, stop. It’s Rue.”

  “Won’t tell her either.” A guttural moan burst from the man and Rue cringed. He reminded her of a hurt animal—a bear caught in a steel trap. After an instant, she realized he was trying to laugh. “But then again, she wouldn’t ask where Justin is. Not unless he was hurt… the lie you told to get her here…”

  She touched his shoulder, no longer caring if he lashed out in his delusions. “I got away from them, Bruno, but I need you to help me get out of here. I need you to take me to Justin.”

  His red lids opened, revealing two bleary eyes. The pupils were dilated, but she couldn’t tell if he’d taken too many hits to the head or if he’d been drugged. The area around one eye was swollen and darkening to a deep purple. They hadn’t left him too long ago. Would they be back soon or were they finished for the night?

  “Rue?” he said on a rush of breath.

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you doing here?” He turned his head toward the door. “If they believe putting you in here will make me talk, they’re out of their ever-loving gourds… Well, more so than I guessed.” He shook his head as if trying to clear the fog he had to have been experiencing. “Never should’ve trusted Crispin.”

  “We all trusted him. Even Justin.”

  The big man flinched at the sound of the name. “This’ll kill him.”

  “It’ll hurt, but he’ll live. I did. And so did you.”

  “He won’t live for long. Not if they have their way. Sorry to say it, Rue, but that uncle of yours has a mean streak.”

  “He’s also more than halfway to insane, but he can’t touch us if we aren’t here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I have Crispin’s keys, but we don’t have much time. Someone’s bound to find him
before too much longer.” At Bruno’s questioning look, she explained what happened. A wide smile broke over the man’s face. “Congratulate me later. We need to get out of here.”

  He rolled onto one side and tried to leverage himself off the floor. He didn’t make it far before he cringed and fell back onto the concrete. Between panting breaths, he said, “I want to help. I need to help. But I’m no good.”

  “Ribs?”

  “Probably.”

  With one hand, Rue pushed the big man into a prone position and began gently probing his torso. Aside from the occasional flinch, he didn’t seem to be in enough pain to make her suspect internal injuries. He had one or two bruised ribs, but she didn’t get a sense any of them were actually broken.

  “You’ll live through this, too.” Pulling the sheets from the meager bed, she used Crispin’s old-fashioned keys to shred the fabric and began ripping strips free. In no time, she had enough lengths to bind Bruno’s tender ribcage. “This isn’t perfect, but it’s the best I can do in this place.”

  He patted her leg and made another attempt to gain his feet. His normally ruddy cheeks turned ashen, but he managed to get himself upright. Rue moved into position beside him to provide support. “No, you’ll need to stay in front and keep a lookout. I’ll make it.”

  “We’ll take it slow until you feel better.”

  “We’ll move as fast as we can. I’ll feel better once we’re out of this place.” And with that, he pushed her toward the door. “I just wish we had a weapon.”

  For the first time, she wished Crispin had been carrying one. Of course if he had, she might be dead. “I’ll try to make sure the next guy I knock out is armed.”

  He let out a short laugh and then a long groan as the motion disturbed his aching bones. “Don’t. I have a hard enough time staying upright without added humor.”

  The two of them moved in silence until they reached the entrance to a stairwell.