“I know you can,” I hear him mutter when he thinks I’ve walked far enough away.
Chapter 30
The mess hall is busier this time in the morning. I sip black coffee. I don’t normally drink coffee, but the caffeine is definitely required after another sleepless night. The effects of the cold shower I took this morning only lasted a few minutes. Justin and I are both wearing borrowed clothes—green cargo pants and white undershirts.
My backpack is missing as well as the gun. The moment between finding Junior dead on the floor and being brown-bagged is a little fuzzy, making it hard to remember just exactly what happened to either one. I somehow managed to rip a hole in the sole of my sneaker, which I hadn’t noticed until this morning. It had rained all last night, and my foot became uncomfortably wet when I stepped into a puddle that was deeper than it looked. LaRoux handed me a pair of black boots from the lost and found pile located near the mess hall. They look like men’s shoes, but I don’t care. As long as they stay on my feet when I have to run.
“You look like crap,” Justin says to me as he bites into a muffin.
I laugh, peeling away the top layer of mine. “Thanks. I always know I can turn to you for a compliment.” I shove a piece of muffin into my mouth even though my stomach is in a twisted knot.
There are more people staying here than I thought. The compound has developed into its own little city, housing and protecting the families of those who have joined together with LaRoux. Shane says they are stronger here than they were on their own and starving.
In the daytime, this place looks different. Families fill the space, not just armed men with tattoos. Children run around as their mothers try to corral them for breakfast. I watch, thinking of Uncle Will’s. A slow panic rises in my throat as my anxiety about keeping Netty and Catherine safe kicks in.
We’re mostly ignored, a few giving Justin and me a quick glance every now and then. I wonder how much they know about what’s going on. Earlier, I asked LaRoux how they came upon all the food and water. She smiled and said something about confiscating it from Official delivery trucks. I smiled back, remembering my own run-in with one of those not too long ago.
“How did it go last night?” Justin asks.
“I managed to convince him that we need to look for Luka and Riley.”
Justin swallows. “And the other thing?”
As he says it, I see Shane making his way toward our table.
“Morning,” he says to the both of us.
We mutter a response and continue to eat our breakfast.
Shane clears his throat. “So, this is the deal. I talked to one of the guys who was in the tattoo shop when you two got brown-bagged. He mentioned something about seeing a couple of Pigeons load Luka and Riley into a van and drive off.”
“Any idea where they were taken?” I say.
“Well, there are only three Pigeon Posts in Salem, and the closest one is thirty or so miles from here. It’s not much to go on, but it’s all we got.”
“How will we get there?” Justin asks. “And what happens when we do?”
“We can have Scratch drop us off to the closest point. After that, we’ll have to walk the rest. Once we get there, our plan is pretty basic. Get in, grab Luka and Riley, and then get the hell out of there alive.” Shane looks at Justin. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah, thanks. Can’t wait,” he says. “Sounds like a great time.”
“What about LaRoux?” I ask Shane. “Have you told her our plan yet?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d leave that up to you.”
“Me?” I ask. “Why? She won’t listen to me.”
“Give yourself more credit. You convinced me it was a good idea, remember?”
I do, but somehow I think persuading LaRoux is going to be a bit more challenging.
* * * *
I leave Justin with Shane so that they can pack a few things for our trip. As I make my way over to the main building of the old airport, I try to think of what it is I’m going to say. Why should it matter to me what she thinks? I want to tell myself that I can leave here whenever I want. But deep down, I know I need as much help as I can get, and leaving here without LaRoux’s understanding is just another way to make more enemies.
I walk into the building and follow the directions Shane gave me. The door is closed, and I give it a few knocks.
“Come in.”
The door creaks open, and I find LaRoux, flaming red hair and white t-shirt, perched in a chair behind a metal desk. A small television sits on the corner, the volume moderately humming.
“Hazel,” she says with a slight smile. “Come in, have a seat.” She gestures to one of the empty chairs in front of her.
The office smells musty, and the desk is scattered with yellowed paperwork. The walls are covered in dark wood paneling that absorbs all the light in the room, and they’re littered with framed newspaper clippings and photographs of old planes.
“What can I do for you?”
It’s a question with a complicated answer. The television is distracting, and I’m trying hard to keep focused.
I sit down, tucking my hands under my legs to prevent myself from getting too fidgety. “What exactly are you doing here?”
It’s not a question I intended to ask, but it’s the one that pops out of my mouth first. I’ve been here nearly two days, and I have no idea why.
“Same thing you’re doing. Just with more people.”
“Well, I haven’t done anything yet.”
“No? You escaped the Antioch. You also managed to rattle the nerves of some pretty high-ranking Officials so much so that they’re flooding every Ward with Pigeons. I’d say that adds up to something.”
I look around the room and out of the window behind her. “How did you get involved in all this?”
“There have been many groups who have tried to rebel against the Officials, but they have all failed. Do you know why?”
I shake my head. The Rusers started as a humanitarian group trying to bring the problems of the Citizens to the attention of the Officials. After months of no progress, some became frustrated and began to resort to aggressive anti-government actions. It’s those people who have given the Rusers the reputation they have now. Because all those who have tried have done so through violent means. Bombings, arson…these things will do nothing to change the way the Officials do business.”
“Well, how do we change it?” I ask.
“By exposing their most valuable asset…their secrets. When I overheard Margaret and my sister talking about what they were seeing in the Citizen hospitals, I knew then that we were in store for something terrible. I decided I wasn’t going to sit back and comply.”
Comply. The word sends a cold echo through my body.
“So, if you’re not with the Officials, then why did you mention they were handing out a reward for my capture?”
LaRoux leans back in her chair. “You can never be too careful nowadays. Everyone has his or her own agenda. I thought maybe if I rattled your cage, you would fire back at me, but you didn’t. You kept your mouth shut. I like that about you. I can tell you’re the type that doesn’t give up easily.”
I pause for a few minutes, letting her words sink in. “I need to find the two others who were with me in the tattoo parlor. Shane, Justin, and I are leaving at nightfall to look for them at the Pigeon Post closest to here. I know it’s a long shot, but I have to try.”
LaRoux sits up and leans her elbows on the desk. She studies my face intently, cocking her head slightly to one side. “Fine,” she finally says. “On one condition.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing I’d be happy to oblige.
“Yes?”
“Tell me exactly what happened to you at the Antioch.”
I do and she isn’t shy when emoting her disgust.
“The Officials steal the babies,” I say.
“And where is your first baby now?”
“I didn’t h
ave a baby. But my sister, Netty, did. I delivered her daughter in the back of a moving delivery truck.” I don’t mention I want to make a trip there too soon to check on them. “They’re at a hiding place until all this is sorted out.”
“Is there any way to reach them?”
“No.”
“They should be brought here soon. That baby needs to be protected as well as the mother. The last thing we want is for the Pigeons to get a hold of them.”
Deep down, I’m hesitant to say where everyone is hiding. It’s as if speaking the words out loud will make them more vulnerable. But having Netty and Catherine here to be looked after would relieve some of the guilt I have about dropping them off at Uncle Will’s.
“I’ll consider it,” I say. “But I have to find Luka and Riley first.”
An alert from the television begins to blare. It’s from the sanctioned Official news channel that broadcasts out of Eight. My eyes flicker to the television as the camera focuses on the two news anchors behind the desk. At the bottom of the screen read the words SPECIAL REPORT in bold red letters. I stop talking all together as the picture of someone remarkably familiar flashes on the screen. She has long dark hair and matching dark eyes.
“We interrupt your regular programming to bring you a special report regarding a known Ruser and fugitive on the loose. Hazel DeSales escaped just over a week ago and is believed to be loose in any of the Eight Wards. She is armed and should be considered extremely dangerous. She, along with two others, are wanted in the murder of her sister, Nanette DeSales. DeSales’ motives seem to be procession of her sister’s newborn. If she is spotted, please report her location to the closest available Police Post immediately.”
My jaw drops as pictures of Justin and Luka sit next to mine on the screen..
“In more news today, the Official Government Panel, along with President Xavier Falls, will be presenting a new Ruser Depletion Initiative dubbed Track & Protect. A news conference is scheduled for later this evening regarding the new Citizen program that will require all Citizens to have the chip, mentioned in earlier reports, implanted painlessly and free of charge.”
My mouth has been open for so long, my tongue feels dry. The television continues to spew news, but it all sounds distorted to me as my ears are flooded with the whooshing of my pounding heart. LaRoux turns off the television as I try to make my mouth move to form words.
“Well,” she says. “Looks like you’re one of us now.”
Chapter 31
After we find Luka and Riley, we are to return to the airport to reconvene with LaRoux. I come across a group of kids playing on the open space of the tarmac. The youngest looks like she was born right before having children wasn’t a sanctioned act. They’re playing a game of kick ball, and their faces are red with exertion. I smile and watch as the littlest one fumbles with the ball. She tries a few times, only to be met with heckling from the older kids on the opposite team.
I sit by an old picnic table for a while, taking in the cool air. Closing my eyes, I think back to East Point and pretend I am home, watching the kids in my own neighborhood. When the fall weather starts to emerge, it reminds me of the first days of school.
I watch the kids play, and the little one is up to kick once again. She manages to kick it hard this time, surprising everyone, including herself. The ball comes flying in my direction, the others watching in stunned silence. All the kids look to me, expecting me to pick the ball up and participate. The ball does a steady roll in my direction; it grazes my feet. I scoop it in my arms as the kids on her team begin to cheer on the little girl, telling her to run.
I start off in a slow trot to give her a head start as she makes her way to first base. The look on her face is pure exhilaration as she decides to sprint toward second. I pretend to drop the ball, hearing the dissatisfaction of the other team. The little girl bursts into one more sprint before she’s greeted with open arms at home plate. I feebly throw the ball to the pitcher, who catches it with a scowl on his face.
“Nice throw,” says a voice from behind.
I turn around and see a young girl, blonde with bright blue eyes --the natural kind, though, not like mine. We could have been classmates. Her clothes are clean but tattered and frayed along the edges. She sits on the edge of the picnic table next to the spot where I was a few minutes ago.
“Thanks,” I reply.
She sits for a few seconds, staring at me with questioning eyes. “I’m Sarah.” She extends her hand.
“Hazel.”
“Any of these yours?” she asks.
“No. I don’t have any kids.”
“Me either,” she says. “Guess that’s why I haven’t been reaped.”
“How did you get here?” I say.
“Shane brought me here.”
Suddenly, my face feels cold and clammy. I try to put some order to the rushing assumptions inundating my head. All I can come up with is an eyebrow raise. “Have you known each other long?”
“Just a few months. I was living under a bridge when I miscarried a baby. Shane brought me here. He saved me.”
An awkward silence develops between us as I rack my brain for a response.
The adoration is clear in her tone.
Feeling overwhelmed, I get up from the picnic table to find Shane and Justin.
“It was nice talking to you, Hazel,” she says with a smile.
I hate her. I don’t know her, but I hate her.
I return with my own smile. “Same here.”
* * * *
I return to the bunks and find Justin asleep. I must not have been the only one who tossed and turned all night. Walking to Shane’s room, I pass the now opened doors of the others who are staying here. Families of five cram into the little room, sharing small beds so that everyone has a place to sleep. There are other empty bunks that they could spread out to, but I guess they’d rather have the peace of mind of having everyone in one place rather than split up. Two kids run past me in the hallway, and I have to press myself against the wall as to not get run over.
Two people, maybe husband and wife, whisper among each other, trying to steal a few minutes of privacy. The man says something, flicking the woman’s hair behind her shoulder. She laughs softly and they kiss—brief but full of purpose. They notice me staring, and I scurry past them, embarrassed that I have intruded on such a tender moment.
Shane’s room is empty, so I sit on his bunk to wait. His backpack is sprawled on the floor, half unzipped. I gently tap it with my foot, thinking maybe I could tip it over, but it doesn’t move. My curiosity is gnawing away at my patience waiting for him to return. Maybe I can find a few clues in his bag. No. You’re overreacting. But since when do I overact?
I take one more quick glance out of the door, making sure Shane doesn’t pull one of his popping out of nowhere bits. The hallway seems clear, save for the kids running around.
I sit back on the bunk and casually hook one of the straps of the backpack around my foot. Carefully, I slide the bag toward me until it’s within my reach.
“Hello!”
I jump, and my breath catches in my throat. I swallow with relief when I see the little girl from the kickball game. She’s standing in the threshold of the door, her auburn pigtails swinging behind her.
“Hello,” I say.
She walks into the room without invitation and plops down on the opposite bed.
“I’m Ruby-May, but everyone just calls me Ruby. Except my older brother…he calls me pain in the butt.” She rolls her eyes.
I laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Ruby. I’m Hazel.”
“You’re pretty. Want to see something?”
“Sure,” I reply.
She gets up from the bed and walks closer to me, rummaging in the pocket of her tattered jeans. She pulls out what looks like a small lump of glass. Ruby places it in the palm of my hand.
“Wow,” I gasp. “That is really beautiful.”
“It’s a crystal cluster. My mommy
gave it to me. It’s my good luck charm.” Her brown eyes twinkle with innocent fascination as the crystal cluster shimmers in my hand.
“Does it work?” I ask.
She nods her head enthusiastically. “Yep.”
“Wish I had one,” I say, handing it back to her.
“You can keep it,” she says, but I refuse.
Ruby insists. “I have another one just like it.”
I stare at the crystal still sitting in my hand. I could use a little bit of luck.
“Thank you, Ruby. I’ll be sure to keep it safe.”
She smiles widely, and I can’t help but smile, too.
I wrap my hand around the crystal, hoping Ruby’s positive energy rubs off on me.
Shane walks into the room, dashing all my hope of hunting through his bag. “What’s this chipmunk doing in my room?”
Ruby squeals and dashes out of the room. “Have fun with your giiirrlfriend.” She squeals again and disappears down the hall.
I chuckle and try not to blush.
“Are you okay?” Shane says.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
My heart is about to burst with all the information swelling inside of me. I want to push him through the wall but curb my aggression for the sake of Luka and Riley. If there was ever a time to swallow my pride, it’s now.
“Let’s go over a few things.” He tosses me one of the backpacks, which I notice is mine. I frantically open it and am disappointed my gun is missing.
“Looking for this?” Shane reaches out to me, my black shiny gun hanging from his fingertips, a sly grin spreading across his face. “They searched you when you passed out on the way here. Everything else should be where you left it.”
“I guess I’ll just shoot lasers with my eyes…” Justin appears in the hallway.
Behind him, Sarah keeps her distance.
Shane digs into his bag again. He pulls out another gun.
“This can be yours.” He carefully hands him the black metallic object.
The Unforgiven (The Propagation Project Book 1) Page 14
