CHAPTER FOUR
When my eyelids flutter open, I’m confused because I expect to see the ceiling of my living room. Or at least my bedroom. Instead, a sharp whiteness clouds my vision and I have to blink several times.
Then I realize I’m lying on a firm bed in the medical unit. Only Sector A and B citizens really use it, mostly because they’re the only ones who can afford medical help. The bright white of the room is blinding compared to the darkness in which I had been encased.
“Miss Keslin,” I hear Elsa say as she rises from a chair in the corner of the room and rushes to me, worry across her lined face as she places a hand on my forehead. “Are you alright?”
“I think so,” I reply. As I sit up, my head throbs, like someone pounds from the inside with a tiny hammer. Touching the side with my fingertips, I find a tender welt the size of my fist. I look to Elsa questioningly.
“You took a bad fall and smacked it on the edge of the piano,” she explains.
“I fell? I don’t remember falling.”
“Well, no. You… you didn’t eat enough at breakfast and passed out,” she replies, her eyes darting to the door as if she expects someone to march in. I see a middle- aged doctor standing in the hall just outside and talking to someone. Even though I can’t see who, I can only assume it’s my father because the doctor stands very straight and looks uneasy as she clutches a silver tablet in her pale hands.
“Passed out?” I ask, turning back to my nanny, my thoughts still groggy and disjointed.
“Yes, from not eating breakfast,” she emphasizes and for a moment I stare at her with my mouth half hung open because I don’t understand what she subtly tries to hint.
Then the memories flood back. Color drains from my face and I feel my body sway even though I’m still sitting down. “Rey.”
“Hush! Miss Keslin.” She places a hand on my shoulder and glances back to the door, panic written on her features. “They think you passed out because you didn’t eat enough. If they think you did it because of Rey-“
“No!” I snap, cutting her off and causing the doctor and my father to gaze into the room. That’s when I notice they aren’t alone. Two Gendarme stand with them, and though I don’t recognize him, one wears the colors marking a Commander. That’s only a step down from the Master General. Commanders only get sent to deal with serious matters.
My throat tightens. They are here because of me. A Councilmember must have called them because they think my collapse was done as some form of revolt against the Gamble. And because I’m not supposed to be associated with a Sub like Rey. I shouldn’t care what happens to someone like him.
“Kelsey,” my father says with a strained smile. “How do you feel?”
He strides into the room, the Gendarme guards and timid doctor following. The guards watch me intently and I squirm in their unnerving and violating stares. I want to feel safe with my father here, but he has no control over the Gendarme due to an old law meant to keep leadership and law enforcement separate from one another. The Gendarme only answer to the Master General, who, like my father, answers to no one.
“Um… I’m fine,” I reply. “My head hurts a little.”
“Yes,” says the doctor, glancing between the guards and my father. “You hit it pretty hard. You… you really shouldn’t skip meals, Miss Keslin. Not at your age when your body is still growing and you need the nourishment.”
“Um, yeah, I know. I just wasn’t feeling well this morning. I think it was an upset stomach.” It’s only a half lie. Even now my insides twist and contract on themselves as I fight to maintain a calm composure.
The higher-ranking Gendarme steps forward. His tag identifies him as Commander H. Longford. His dark eyes and dark hair and dark skin make him stand in sharp contrast to the white room. Checking a mini tablet attached to his wrist, he flicks through several images before again fixing his penetrating eyes on me. “Miss Keslin, what is your relationship to Sector E citizen Rey Zuritsky?”
The lump in my throat triples in size, almost so large I can’t speak, and I’m forced to swallow before responding.
“Rey Zuritsky?” I repeat, stalling as I try to guess what sort of information the Commander already knows about Rey and me. “Um… he… he was my previous tutor’s son. He lived in our suite when I was little-”
“And they were set to be married,” my father announces in the authoritative tone he always uses. I nearly black out again at his admission. They’ll arrest me for associating with a Sub, I’m sure of it. I’ll spend months in prison and have my number thrown into the Gamble extra times every year for the rest of my life. And Rey, they’ll punish him too, and it will be worse than whatever they do to me.
Commander Longford turns to my father with a look if incredulity. “Set to be married? The Protector’s daughter and a Sub?”
“Yes,” my father replies, standing taller and notching his chin in the air. “It was a promise I made to Rey Zuritsky’s mother many years ago when the two of them were children, before her number was selected in the Gamble. I had assumed, given the circumstances over the past six years, that Mr. Zuritsky was no longer interested, so I made another arrangement for my daughter. However, now that Kelsey has turned eighteen, Mr. Zuritsky only last night sent word to me, through the proper channels of course, that he would still like to keep the arrangements. As much as both Kelsey and I would prefer she not marry a Sub, I am a man of my word.”
That last comment is directed at me, a reminder of our disagreement last night.
The Commander glares, his jaw grinding. Then he stares at his comrade before turning back to me. “And, Miss Keslin, you’re happy with these arrangements?”
I force a smile even though I might very well throw up all over the clean, white tile floor. “Like my father said, we are a family that keeps our word. Certainly a high ranking official such as yourself can understand and respect such a choice?”
I am inches from stepping over a fine line, but from the corner of my eye I see my father smirk for a moment, covering the indiscretion with a soft cough and clearing of his throat.
The Commander’s eyes flash, but he has no reason to assume we are lying. “I see. Thank you for your time Miss Keslin, Protector Keslin, and we wish you a good night.”
They both march from the room, heads held high. The rest of us breathe a collective sigh of relief and the atmosphere in the room eases slightly. My father turns to the doctor who still has the tablet clenched to her chest.
“Doctor Poling, thank you.”
She nods. “Of course, Protector Keslin. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll enter your daughter’s discharge information into the system and update her barcode with a medical release for the halls since it’s after curfew.” Appearing grateful for the chance to escape, she scurries from the room, leaving me with my father and Elsa.
I fling aside the bed covers and scramble to my feet, searching under the bed for my shoes.
“Kelsey,” my father says sternly, “where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
I slam my feet into the shoes and twist to face him in preparation for an argument. “To find Rey.”
“Absolutely not! Once you’ve been released we are immediately returning to our suite!”
“You and Elsa maybe, I’m not.”
“Kelsey Melina Keslin! Do you understand how much I have risked for you the past twenty-four hours? What Elsa has risked? What Doctor Poling risked? Do you understand what problems your friendship with Rey has caused? How much trouble we could all be in because of your foolish indiscretions?”
My teeth grind against each other so hard it wouldn’t surprise me if I cracked every single one. “I don’t care! He is my friend. My only friend and he is dying tomorrow. I am not going to let him go without saying good-bye!”
And then I’m running from the room and down the narrow corridors of the medical unit so fast I startle several nurses. When I reach the entrance doors, I fling my wrist in front of the exit sca
nner and then charge down the main hallway of Sector A, headed for the nearest stairwell.
My footsteps echo throughout the empty metal halls and it occurs me that if I get caught outside of my Sector this late in the evening I’ll be arrested, but I don’t care. The only thing I care about is finding Rey.
I barrel down the staircase, the metal clanging under my feet and I’m short of breath and dizzy again. Deeper into ROC I plunge, and I realize I’ve never been below Sector C. When the stairs end, the door marking Sector E looms, cracked and bent and clearly in need of repair. Paint peels on the walls, old, rotting trash has collected itself into one corner and a faded sign hangs crooked on the wall.
FOR YOUR SAFETY
THIS AREA IS UNDER CONSTANT VIDEO SURVEILLENCE
Glancing up, I see a camera on the wall, its red blinking light indicates that it’s recording and connected to ROC’s internal-net. I hope I can make it to Rey before whoever watches behind that dark lens decides to call the Gendarme. Of course, they don’t pay much attention to the lower level Sectors. As far as they are concerned, no one important lives down here anyway.
Shoving through the thick door, I enter the main Sector E hall. More than half the lights are out, some of the bulbs smashed and littering the floor along with piles of moldy garbage. Glass crunches under my feet as I walk.
The foul smells of mildew, urine and human sweat overwhelm my senses and I cover my mouth and nose with one hand. My shadow rises along the wall, following me, and I can’t help but shiver at the eerie empty corridor partially thrown into darkness.
Rows of doors line both sides, faded suite numbers painted beside them. While the suite doors in Sector A are about a hundred feet apart, in E they’re only fifteen feet or so because the living quarters are so much smaller. I start down the first hall when I realize I have no idea what Rey’s suite number is. All this time and I don’t know where he lives.
Pausing, I consider my options; start knocking on doors and ask, or run through the hall screaming Rey’s name. Since I’m not even supposed to be here, the former seems the better, though more time-consuming choice.
With a discouraged groan, I rap on the first door. A bony woman answers, takes one look at me, and alarm races across her features.
I hold my hands out defensively. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m looking for Rey Zuritsky, you don’t happen to know where he lives, do you?”
“No,” she replies with a harsh tone, and hastily shuts the door in my face.
With a few thousand suites in the sector, this will prove harder than I thought.
For nearly twenty minutes I roam through the halls, knocking on random doors and having little luck. Either the citizens really don’t know Rey, or they are lying because they think I’m with the Councilmembers and they’re afraid. But I can’t give up. I have to find him, I have to say good-bye.
Three times I disturb families mourning for their loved ones who’ve been selected by the Gamble. Their puffy, blood-shot eyes and tear-stained cheeks almost cause me to cry too from my own sadness and anger and desperation. All these people are sentenced to death because we’re all just trying to survive.
I bang on another door, this one opened by a rough-looking man in his early thirties. I immediately see he is blind in one eye. A little girl of about four or five pokes her head around his leg and he shoos her back inside before regarding me with a wary gaze with his one good eye.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I say, “but I’m looking for Rey Zuritsky. Do you know what suite number he is by any chance?”
The man looks me up and down, then shakes his head and begins to close the door. I feel myself in the verge of bursting with frustration when a small, frail voice calls from behind the man.
“Did someone ask for Rey?”
An elderly woman shuffles into view, presumably the man’s mother given their age difference. She is thin, so thin I can see the bones in her face and the backs of her hands. Her worn clothing hangs off her emaciated frame and for a moment I’m taken aback. There are so few old people in the O.Z.
“Who are you?” she asks, squinting to see me better, and for a moment I’m surprised because most citizens at least recognize me because of my father.
“I… I’m… my name is Kelsey Keslin.”
She smiles and she has only about six teeth left in her mouth. “Of course you are, should have recognized you right away.”
“Ma’am, do you know Rey?” I struggle to hide the impatience in my voice.
“Yes, most people down here do. He’s a good boy. He talks about you a lot.”
And for the second time in as many moments, I fumble for my words. “He… Rey talks about me?”
She nods. “It’s such a shame, him being selected in the Gamble. Could have thought of hundreds of people who deserved that more than Rey. ‘Course, with as many times as he sold his number since he turned eighteen, I can’t say it surprises me.”
I frown. “No. He only had his number in once.”
“Miss Keslin,” the woman responds as though she scolds a child. “There’s no way it was in there only once. He sold it thirty times just to help us get enough food for my grandchildren. Several more so the family down the hall there in suite 387 got the medical attention they needed when the father got hurt at work. He’s helped lots of families here. If I had to guess, Rey had his number in at least five hundred times.”
I can’t speak, managing to only open and close my mouth several times before emitting any sound. “He never told me…”
“Ah, yes, he doesn’t like to brag. In this Sector though, he’s his own form of hero.”
“What suite number is he? I have to see him.”
“423, ‘round the corner and just a few more doors down toward the end of that hall.”
“Thank you,” I say and walk hastily away, stunned at the revelations. How could he have not said anything? How could I have never known? And why would he do such a thing knowing the risks?
423 comes up quickly and I pause because I suddenly have no idea what to say to my best friend, to the boy I have practically grown up with and just a few hours ago was planning to marry. But I’ve come too far to go back home and besides, it’s Rey. Lifting one fist, I knock twice.
A second later, the door swings open and Rey stands before me, his fair hair disheveled and his T-shirt wrinkled. He looks exhausted, shoulders drooping forward, head down and eyes sunken. At first, he doesn’t seem to register that it’s me, then his eyes widen and he stands straighter.
“Kelsey? What are you doing here?” His speech is a little slurred, which strikes me as odd. Then he cranes his neck to look down the hall before grabbing my arm, yanking me inside and shutting the door. He doesn’t even bother to have me scan my barcode, which is technically breaking the law, but a good idea because I’m not supposed to be here anyway.
His suite is tiny, about half the size of my living room. While my father and I have a luxurious 3,000 square foot home, Rey and his four cousins have been sharing a 300 square foot hole. The main room is clearly meant to be the kitchen, living area and dining room all rolled into one, with crude cabinets, a leaking sink and a small fridge on one side, a tattered sofa and dented wooden table and chairs on the other. Two doorways stand along the far wall, one to a bathroom with only a sink, toilet and shower stall, and the other to a bedroom that holds two mattresses and a dresser, with room for little else. Everything is dark and grey and depressing, and I can’t believe Rey has been forced to live like this while I’ve been living in the equivalent of an opulent palace. I hate myself for not even knowing after all these years that this is how he has lived.
“Where are your cousins?” I ask when I notice no one else is in the suite.
“Moved them. There’s a woman a few doors down with three kids of her own. Her and I always agreed if something happened to one of us, the other would take in the children. No idea how she’ll manage seven kids, but I guess in a few hours it’s not my problem any
more. I said my good-byes to them earlier. I just wanted to be alone tonight.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can leave. I just thought that-“
He grips my arm, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist. “No, please, don’t leave yet. I’m glad you’re here, I just never expected to see you in the subs.”
That’s when I notice the plastic jug on the table and the piercing smell of alcohol on his breath. “You’ve been drinking?”
He runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah, didn’t really know what else to do.”
“How did you even get alcohol? It’s illegal. The food warehouses don’t even stock it.”
“Plenty of people in the subs make their own. I’ve never tasted the stuff before but hey, what are they going to do to me now?”
The Gamble (The Gamble Series Book 1) Page 4
