Traceless (Stateless #2)

by Meli Raine

  And what do they taste like?

  “Quit staring. You look like an alien.”

  I glare at her. Something about being off compound makes me bolder. “Forgive me,” I reply with sarcasm. “I've never left the compound. It's all new.”

  “And froyo is what you fixate on?”

  “Fro-yo?”

  “Never mind. Just eat.”

  A television in the distance has a red “Breaking News” banner across the bottom. I squint to read it.

  “Mogrett family ranch fire,” I read off as Sally halts eating, spoon midway to her mouth. She turns to gawk.

  “They did it,” she mutters, returning to her soup, cheeks suddenly pink with excitement. “They really did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “That was an assignment. Stateless did that. Set fire to Alice Mogrett's old ranch. The one Jane Borokov inherited.”

  “The one in Texas?”

  She nods, then smacks the table top softly. “Yes! Another win. We're doing it.”

  “I wonder if Callum was there,” I say absentmindedly.

  “You'd better stop that,” she says pleasantly, her grin weirdly malicious. “You two are sabotaging yourselves.”

  “What?”

  “It's obvious. You're emotionally entangled. Svetnu will put an end to that once he realizes the danger.”

  Being off compound is making Sally more casual. Looser. She would never have talked like this with me at home.

  For the next half hour, Sally and I eat our food and watch the television, moving to a table that's closer to the screen so we can read the closed captioning. Half the time, she's on her phone, probably getting status updates.

  The flow of news is amazing. At the compound, I check in here and there, on permitted websites. Information is tightly controlled for our own good. Most corporate media uses psychological techniques designed to manipulate, much like we’re taught to do to others.

  What we attend to is what we become, we learned. If I pay attention to too much corporate news, I'll become as brainwashed as the masses.

  But my, their news is so... flashy.

  Without the sound on, all I can do is take in the garish colors of the graphics, the way the announcers' faces stretch with each word, like speaking to a small child. Nothing is on screen for longer than ten seconds, even when someone is being interviewed. The camera cuts away, over and over, coming back, splicing time, splicing attention.

  This is all intentional.

  Our way of consuming news via television is quite different. Stateless has its own history manuals. We have news updates. We are taught through slow and deep analysis, focused on an expert who talks to us, who engages us with pre-selected questions.

  News is not entertainment. It is knowledge transfer.

  But here? This is like watching a crude children’s program.

  “Why are the words so big on the screen?” I ask Sally. “And so... blinky.”

  “Blinky?”

  “Everything blinks or jumps on the screen where the words are.”

  “That's to keep your attention.”

  “If I'm already watching the news, by definition, they have my attention.”

  “Stop asking questions,” she mutters. “Just take it all in.” Digging in her purse, she looks down, finds a pill bottle, and opens it. She pops something in her mouth. I can't read the label, and I know better than to ask.

  But I file this information away for future use.

  The clock says we've been in here for nearly an hour. I stand.

  “Where are you going?”

  “They might be looking for us.”

  “You go ahead. I need to make a call, and I should take some food out to Hokes.”

  Following her orders, I head back to the waiting area. First, though, I go to the women's restroom to take care of basic needs. As I exit the stall, Dr. Phathani is there, washing her hands. We make eye contact in the mirror as I turn the faucet on.

  “Amber, Jaden just got out of the MRI. CT scan is done. Neither shows any abnormalities, and the seizures have stopped. We did a blood draw while he was sedated, though, and as soon as those labs come in, we can get a fuller picture. We were about to find you.”

  “Just coming back from the cafeteria,” I respond carefully.

  “Your aunt is really supportive.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Jaden's father?”

  I imagine Callum for a split second. “He's, well... in another state.”

  She nods. “We'll keep you posted on Jaden. Hang in there.” Her clean hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “He's a beautiful little child.”

  The door whooshes as it closes behind her.

  He's a beautiful little child.

  These people have been nothing but nice. Compassionate. Efficient. Putting Jay's needs first. So far, every single person has been, well...

  Wonderful.

  Nothing like the mindless drones I expected to meet. Not even one one-thousandth of the characterizations we've been taught our whole lives.

  These people care.

  After I dry my hands, I pause in front of the mirror, looking at my own reflection. Exhaustion pulls the skin around my eyes down, and my hair is in a messy ponytail. I'm beat. I'm dirty. I'm covered in lies and my mouth feels filthy from juggling so many fake statements.

  But I know one thing.

  These people are helping Jay.

  And that means something.

  10

  Callum

  The black SUV drives past me, straight to the nursery, the red tail lights staring back like demonic pupils as Sally, Kina, and Jay get out of the car. He's clutching a stuffed animal in his hands, talking to Kina, who holds onto him for dear life. Hokes drives off.

  It’s dawn. The sun is winking at us through low-hanging grey clouds, the moon and sun sharing the sky. Kina looks weary, shoulders slumped, Jay's weight dragging her down.

  It's been a long night for us both.

  Some words fly between Sally and Kina, but it ends with small smiles. Whatever happened at the hospital must be good.

  Thankfully.

  Because ordering this rare off-compound visit in my early months as a leader was a risky decision.

  I walk quickly but not with urgency, aware that every move I make is being watched by everyone who lives here. An exaggeration? No.

  I used to watch Romeo. It makes sense that everyone watches me.

  As I approach Sally and Kina, they turn to me, Sally's pleasant demeanor fading fast.

  “How did it go?”

  “Jay's fine. They said there's no evidence of damage, but the tests showed an underlying blood sugar issue.”

  “What does that have to do with seizures?”

  “She said it's concerning. We need to do follow up.”

  “Dr. Newbraugher can handle it,” Sally informs me.

  “Of course.”

  “This off-compound trip was uncalled for, Callum. You know that.”

  “I don't know that. Made perfect sense at the time. Jay is an asset.”

  She snorts.

  “He may be only two years old, but we were all two once,” Kina points out.

  An epic eye roll greets us both. “So you already said.”

  Philippa appears, nervous but smiling at Jay, who opens his arms and reaches for her. “Pippa!”

  Sally pivots on the ball of one foot and storms off.

  “Nice aunt,” Kina mutters.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.”

  Kina and Philippa whisper to each other, an information transfer that ends with a tender touch from Kina on Jay's shoulders as Philippa walks away with him.

  “She'll sleep next to his crib tonight,” Kina tells me.

  “We need to talk.” My excitement at seeing her after two long months is only tempered by the chaos around us. As I turn to lean closer to her, her eyes widen.

  “Your neck,” she whispers.

  “W
hat about it?”

  “It's–Callum, did you have your birthmark removed?”

  My fingers almost climb to my collar, but I control them. “Oh. Yeah. That. Yes, I did.”

  An extraordinary display of various emotions rolls across her face, like unfurling a row of flags on a windy summer day.

  “Why?” she gasps.

  “Because it stood out.”

  “But that's what made it so–so you!”

  “And that made me easily identifiable. It was a liability.” I shake my head quickly, hard, like evicting a bad tenant. “And it was ugly.”

  “It was beautiful!”

  Her words come out through clenched teeth. One glance at her hands shows me they're clenched, too. Holding in emotion, but expressing it nonetheless, she's so damn gorgeous.

  And this is so damn dangerous.

  “Let's get inside,” I say coolly, knowing eyes are on us. “We'll talk about beauty in private.”

  “No. Wait,” she says, suddenly standing a bit taller, emotions under control. “My anger is useful. It will make anyone watching us think there's a rift between us.”

  That was a display? None of what she just expressed was real? Or was it?

  “What do you know about the bombing?” I demand, shifting gears. Her eyes gleam.

  “The north wall of the nursery was blown out. Well, the windows were. The actual wall was damaged, but the foundation should be–”

  “I know the infrastructure status. I'm asking for a report from you about what you witnessed.”

  She flinches. “Yes, sir.”

  A part of me twitches at hearing those words from her mouth. A part that would very much like her mouth on it.

  “Philippa and I were just putting the toddlers in the north room down for the night. The explosion happened, shattering windows and igniting curtains. The wind blew the flaming fabric in, nearly injuring the children. We were able to get them all out of there quickly.”

  “With only the two of you? How?”

  “Slings.”

  “Slings?”

  “Baby slings. We each wore two and grabbed whatever else we could carry. Hokes came and took the five toddlers.”

  “The three of you got nine children out of a burning building?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  This woman wears away at all of my defenses in ways I didn't know were possible.

  “The older ones were in their room on the other side of the building. The trainees on duty got them out. And then we realized Jay was having seizures, and he was bleeding. You know the rest.”

  “No, Kina. I don't.” I lean in, inhaling slowly, carefully, bringing her scent into me. It's not as good as having her in my arms, or having my mouth on hers, but it will have to do.

  “Medical personnel weren't here. I insisted Jay go to a hospital. You ordered it. Sally went with me.”

  “What was that like?”

  “It was... impossible to describe.”

  “What did they say about Jay?”

  “CT scan and an MRI showed no damage, but he has blood sugar issues. They want follow up.”

  “Dr. Newbraugher can do that. She'll be here in an hour or so.”

  “Good.”

  “How was it?” She knows what I'm asking.

  “Callum.” The way she says my name is a warning. A plea.

  A lifeline.

  “Yes?”

  “Are people out there always so kind?”

  “Kind?”

  “Yes. They–they genuinely cared.” Trouble brews in her eyes. “I didn't think I'd like them.”

  “I've spent nine years living out there.” I thumb toward the entrance. “Yes. They can be very kind. Others, not so much. Don't mistake people doing their job for kindness.”

  “None of them acted like Dr. Newbraugher. She manages the children like they are precision machines. These people–Callum, they gave Jay a stuffed monkey. A toy. To make him feel better. They have people on staff who are called child life specialists. Their sole job is to make children emotionally comfortable and to support the parents. I–I found myself wanting to be that person.”

  “Perfect. When you're re-assigned to The Field, we can get you one of those jobs.”

  “NO!”

  I grab her elbow and bring her into the nursery building, ignoring the yellow caution tape someone has stretched across the south entrance. She knows I'm taking her to her apartment, and opens the front door quickly. A quick search in my now-tight front pockets produces the jammer bars. We place them where they need to go and I bend down, hissing in her ear, “The servers had the only hidden records about me, Kina. Whoever blew them up may have done so because of me.”

  “What? Why would you think it was because of you?” Her whisper is too loud, too harsh. I press my finger to her lips.

  “My surveillance of McDuff? Work I’ve done outside the compound? I don’t know. I can’t explain why. It’s a gut instinct. But I’m not wrong.” I’m speaking so softly I’m practically mouthing my response.

  “There has to be more to it than that,” she insists.

  “Add in the fact that someone’s given you secret access to extremely sensitive files, and I can’t stop thinking about the danger. I need to get you out of the compound. Someone is playing a more dangerous game than I ever imagined, and it's many layers deep. I tracked more secret files to the compound's server a few weeks ago. Covered my tracks–or so I thought. Now that information is lost.”

  “You can't know that. People keep copies.”

  “I assume they don't. Copying that will get you killed.”

  She goes frighteningly pale, her hand cold.

  “Come with me,” she says, sotto voce fully engaged, pulling me into her bedroom. My heart rate zooms, blood flowing where it needs to go, making me groan inside. Of all the times to finally make love–

  Instead of moving to the bed, she opens a drawer in her dresser, reaching underneath to pull on something. A piece of tape with two tiny sim cards appears in her hand.

  She gives them to me.

  “I took advantage of my access, Callum. I downloaded all of it.”

  “All of what?”

  “After you left, I started to think about why I was granted access. How strange it was that someone who’s been treated like nothing more than a workhorse, a dummy, a nothing would be given higher access to secret files than even you.”

  “Maybe I should check your fingerprints. I’m starting to think you might be Glen.”

  She gives me a twisted half-smile that makes my gut clench and my heart pound even harder.

  “Glen would never have done what I did for Jay.”

  “No. She wouldn't. Get to the point, though.” I look at our jammers.

  She nods, brow down. “I accessed the records, searching for anything and everything I could download related to you, me, or Glen.”

  “And?”

  “It's all a bunch of information Alice Mogrett gathered.”

  “Alice Mogrett? Kina, did you just say Alice Mogrett?”

  Her turn to press her fingers on my mouth as emotion gets the better of my volume. “Shhhh. Yes. And Stateless set fire to her ranch today, didn't they?”

  “We did. It was intentional.”

  “We were trying to destroy Alice Mogrett's files on Stateless,” she says, surprising me.

  “How did you know that?”

  “Sally told me. We saw the news in the cafeteria at the hospital, and she–well, she was more casual with me. Treated me more like an equal. I think she told me information she wasn't supposed to.”

  “You're telling me that the files in here–the files that no longer exist anywhere else because of the server bombing–are the same files we intentionally set fire to at Alice Mogrett's old ranch?”

  “I don't know, Callum. You have to read them for yourself.”

  “You are amazing.”

  “There's a problem: it's all encrypted.”

  “I can crack it.”
>
  “But not here,” she murmurs.

  “What?”

  “The compound is dangerous now. You need to leave. Go back to your assignment. Break the encryption there.”

  “You're crazy if you think I'm leaving you here alone.”

  “The best thing you can do to make me safe is figure out what's in those files.”

  The best thing I can do to make her safe is kiss her.

  Now.

  11

  Kina

  I never knew a kiss could become an entire world.

  My whole body flushes, chasing words out of my mind as we speak with our hands, our hips, our lips and tongues. The more he touches me, the more I want, and the more my hands find the contours of his rock-hard body, the more I want to be soft against him.

  “I wanted to be your first time,” he murmurs against my mouth. I know he doesn't mean sex, because we both had sex long, long ago. It was part of our training. We avoided practicing on each other, dissuaded by our leaders. The three groups of eight in our training class were instructed to practice outside the group assigned. I didn't understand then, but was secretly relieved.

  Sexual training was as dogmatic and scientific as our emotional training. We were taught to use our bodies to manipulate. To control. To get what we wanted out of the other person.

  What I want now, from Callum, is emotion.

  And that means I'm a failure.

  “First?” I murmur back, reeling my mind back to words.

  “The first to go out with you into the world. To show you what it's like.”

  “I would like that.”

  “I want to show you everything,” he says, moving my hand to his erection, the double entendre clear.

  “I want to see everything. Feel everything.”

  With a simple gesture of his hand, he invites me to do so.

  Unbuckling his belt is the most erotic act of my life. My fingers move from memory, mind's eye imagining the thick brown strap, the bronze buckle, how the end of the belt pulls back and arcs as I unloop it, then release it from his waist. The slow slide of the long leather strip feels illicit, sensual, full of promise to touch me in ways unspeakable. I'm wet and swollen, needing to be touched, tasted–