The Slave Series

by Laura Frances

  Sarah comes over, and Cash and I break apart. He helps me sit up, and Sarah slides my arm into a sling before stitching the gash on my forehead. I’d almost forgotten about the explosion.

  The pain of the needle is nothing compared to the sadness eating at my stomach, so I ignore it. Sarah doesn’t frown at me today. Her eyes are heavy, like ours. I look around and see the same story on all the faces. Edan was a beacon in this place. Everyone feels the sudden loss of him. I can’t look at them for too long, so I stare at the floor until my face is sewn together.

  Cash trades places with me, and Sarah stitches the cut on his cheekbone. I stay close, standing just out of her way and watching how Cash doesn’t even flinch when the needle slides under his skin. He’s a hulking figure, all muscle and power, but his expression is enough to make me crumple into a ball again and cry. Edan was his best friend. His greatest supporter. This morning he was alive, stirring the energy in this ransacked factory. Now he’s shifted from alive to memory, and it doesn’t feel real. Cash glares at the ground, his fist pressing into the bed.

  We’re finishing when Solomon enters the room. The skin under his eyes sags, where dark shadows sit. He runs a hand down his face, looking over the Infirmary, taking in all the injured bodies. When his gaze lands on Cash and me, he crosses to us. When his arms wrap around me, I can’t keep the sobs from falling out. I cry into his jacket, and he holds me the way my father used to when I was afraid at night.

  “I’m so sorry, Hannah,” he says gently. “I know that Edan was dear to you. He was a friend to so many here. I’m so sorry.”

  Was. I hate that word.

  My mother was…

  My father was…

  Norma was…

  Albert was…

  Edan was…

  I feel like soon everyone I care about will disappear into the past, and there will be nothing left to do but join them. I sniff hard and pull back from Solomon’s arms. There are too many tears to dry them all, so I don’t bother.

  “Hannah, I need to speak with Cash,” Solomon says after a pause. “There’s some urgent business we need to discuss. Will you be all right on your own for a while?”

  “I’m fine,” I say. I can tell by their looks that neither of the men believe me. I steel my expression. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll find you,” Cash says, touching my elbow. I nod, catching his gaze before he turns to follow Solomon from the room.

  I was wrong. The second he leaves, I wish he hadn’t. I’m not fine. The pain comes back, a fist punch to my heart. For long seconds, I’m standing in the main aisle of the Infirmary, staring at the door they left through. I need him to come back. I feel vulnerable now, like no one else will understand. I should check on Aspen. I should sit with her mother. Instead I walk to the dark corner of the room, where a partition separates the youngest of us from the rest of the chaos.

  I took off the sling, and I’ve been rocking the toddler for over two hours, steady streams of tears running down my cheeks. I look up when Cash ducks into the small space. I decided an hour ago that this child needs a name. He has a name, but I wasn’t able to ask it before his father was shot dead. So I’ve called him Ben—mostly because I have never known a Ben, therefore have never known a Ben that died.

  I hold him close to me, his head nestled in my shoulder, his small breaths warming my neck. His heart presses against mine, and I feel the way that he is alive. He is here, present, with me now. I fear that he’ll be taken too. He hasn’t woken up yet. He slept through everything, and a small part of me is jealous. He never knew Edan. He will never feel the sting of that loss. He slept through the glass shattering; slept through the bomb falling on the warehouse. I close my eyes and whisper near his ear,

  “Just promise you’ll wake up when it’s over.”

  Cash kneels in front of me and gently strokes Ben’s head.

  “Lucky kid,” he murmurs.

  “His name is Ben,” I say. Cash smiles.

  “Good name.”

  A nurse enters, and I let her lift Ben from my arms. I watch as she changes the bag attached to the tube in his hand, and I wonder if that is the only thing keeping him alive.

  Cash slides into a chair beside me and leans close.

  “I have to leave,” he says, and my heart drops to my stomach. I want to ask why, but I can’t get myself to do it. This is bigger than me, and asking why would sound self-serving. So I alter it a bit.

  “Why now? Did something happen?”

  “We’re bringing more Workers. We have to go now, while the Council believes we’re weak.”

  “We are weak,” I say. “Most of our food was just destroyed!”

  “This is the plan, Hannah. We can’t stop now just because they’ve crippled us.”

  You can’t stop, Hannah, Edan said. Remember what we talked about?

  Of course I want more Workers to be freed the way I have been. But what if we all gather here to die, because we have no resources to spread around? At least they’re being fed right now. At least they are guaranteed three meals.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. I know it’s the stress talking. I know I’m running on emotions and nothing else. I know that. But that doesn’t stop me.

  “How is any of this going to get us out of the valley? So we fill the southern edge with Workers. Then what? We aren’t doing anything!”

  I stand, because I can’t sit still when I’m frustrated. Norma knew this about me. She always made me sit when I’d start pacing. But Cash doesn’t. He stands and grabs my arm.

  “Lower your voice, Hannah.” I know what he means. We’re in the Infirmary. People are wounded and in pain. People are resting, and I’m being disruptive. But there’s a disconnect between my brain and my mouth.

  “What’s the point of this? We sit around while they bomb our food, break our windows, and freeze us to death? They’re killing us! Edan is dead! We’re dying!”

  Cash stills, dropping my arm. He stares at me like I am someone new—someone he doesn’t know. Quietly he says, “The Council didn’t kill Edan. You still don’t get it. Jackson made that decision.”

  I glare at him through a curtain of tears. He knows very well what I mean. Jackson pulled the trigger. But the Council is responsible, because they killed his family and set him off.

  “Who are you?”

  Cash takes my arm again, gentler this time, and tries to guide me toward the door. I pull free, and my action startles him. I see it in his eyes. “Come on, Hannah,” he says, wiping a hand down his face. “You’re upset. You need to rest.”

  “Jackson said he knows who you are. What did he mean?”

  He matches my stare, stepping closer to me. His voice is hard when he says, “I’ve told you who I am.”

  I shake my head. Jackson said Cash would always be loyal to the Council. “There’s something else.”

  Cash breathes out hard, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s funny. The more he struggles, the less I care to know the answer. I regret asking the second sadness etches onto his face. I was only upset because I’m being selfish now, and I don’t want him to leave. But I can’t retract my question. Now it’s out there, hovering between us, building a wall.

  “I have to go,” Cash eventually says. But he doesn’t move. A nurse with gray hair nudges us until we’re standing in the hall. The air is colder out here, and I shiver.

  “I’ll find you when I get back.”

  Cash hesitates, then turns to go. I jump forward and grab his arm, because even though I’ve accused him of hiding something, I still don’t want him to leave.

  “Please…” I start, but I stop short. I won’t apologize, because that would be a lie. I am curious. But I can’t let him leave this way. So I say, “Please…come back.”

  My body trembles. I’ve lost Edan, and now I believe firmly that every person I will ever care about will be taken from me. A sob falls out of my mouth, and I’m backing into the wall, sliding to the floor, crying into my knees. I clos
e my eyes and there is his crooked grin. There are his sky-blue eyes. This is where he would drop his arm over my shoulders and tug me close, making me safe. This is where I would lean my head to his shoulder, and for a second I would feel certain that good can win this. My mother would know what to say. My father’s hug would give me courage. Norma would stroke my hair and remind me that I am strong—that love is better. But they’re all gone. All of them. And I can’t stop the feeling that Cash is next.

  There’s a small rush of air, and a body drops beside me. Cash scoops me into his arms like I weigh nothing at all, until I’m sitting on his lap sideways like a child. I grab at his shirt, and the sobs are painful now—straining my throat and jaw. His arms wrap around me, and his breaths are warm in my hair.

  “I’ll come back,” he whispers. “I promise.”

  Empty promises are the only kind we get here. He can’t really promise to stay safe. I lean my head into his shoulder and stare off in a daze, only slightly aware of the people walking past. I listen to the air that rushes into his lungs; to the perfect pattern of his heartbeat. I curl into his chest and cling to him for these seconds that I’m sure he’s still alive. As soon as he leaves, all my certainty will be gone.

  27

  I use my free hand to gently ease onto my mattress. Cash made me put the sling back on before he left two hours ago. There are others sleeping in here, and the air is thick with breath. I should rest, or so I’ve been told by several people. Sleeping would be the best way to deal with Cash’s absence. Maybe when I wake up, he’ll have returned—alive. But I can’t turn off my mind. I lie flat on my back, my good arm resting over my eyes. Aspen isn’t in here, and now I’m wondering where she is. I haven’t seen her since this morning, when I showed her the mirror. I huff and haul my body to a standing position, grabbing my coat.

  The halls are busy tonight. Preparations are being made for hundreds of Workers to join us. Their escape will be different, because the Watchers will be ready this time. They will have to scale the barricade too, an obstacle we didn’t face. I try not to think about the body count—how many will be lying in the streets come daylight.

  Takeshi steps out of the Infirmary as I’m approaching. When he sees me, his eyebrows furrow.

  “How are you, Hannah?” he asks. Sweat glistens along his hairline, and dirt sits on his square jaw. He’s been in the streets tonight. I wonder if he accompanied the men to the barricade. His hand is in everything, I’ve noticed.

  “Can’t sleep,” I say, trying to avoid his stare. “Have you seen Aspen? I need to talk to her.”

  Takeshi shakes his head. He studies me for a moment, then says, “I’m heading to the roof. Walk with me?”

  I’m slow climbing the stairs, and Takeshi doesn’t rush me. My head is throbbing in time with my shoulder. Deep pain gnaws my forearm, where the glass cut me the night it shattered. But none of this pain compares to the ache in my chest—the ache that rises every time I think about Edan.

  The soldiers barely notice when I step through the door and onto the roof. Their sullen faces watch the streets below with more focus tonight. Maybe they are leaving little room for words. Maybe staying busy is easier than facing what happened today. I wish I had that option. I glance at the sky, taking in the moon and the millions of stars.

  “I take it you’ve been up here,” Takeshi says, walking up behind me. He must be saying that because I didn’t react to the sky like he expected. I lean into the wall along the edge of the building. The same spot where I hugged Cash.

  “I came up here last night,” I say. Takeshi nods. I feel my face heat, and I hope he can’t see it. The cold night air sweeps over the roof, and I press my free hand into a coat pocket.

  Takeshi sighs and leans forward until his forearms press to the top of the wall. He looks out over the darkness, and I see such weight behind his eyes. “Another hour,” he says. “And we should begin to see them.”

  “Only an hour?” Anxiety stirs in my belly.

  “We’re engaging a sector not far from here. Not as many Workers.”

  “Won’t the Watchers be more alert, that close to us?”

  He nods. “Very likely. Tonight is a very risky endeavor. But the truth is, Hannah, we have no choice.”

  Takeshi straightens and turns to me. I’m always surprised by the calm in his expression. He bears all of this with a grace that I don’t see on anyone else.

  “You were correct, what you said in the Infirmary tonight.”

  I dip my head. Cash was right to scold me for being so loud.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re allowed to be upset. Losing Edan today was a blow to all of us.”

  “I was wrong,” I stammer. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

  “Maybe. But you weren’t entirely wrong. We are weakened. These things never go how you plan them.”

  I shake my head. “I just don’t understand,” I mutter, turning back to the endless factories that rise out of the darkness.

  “I know,” Takeshi says, his tone gentle. “But there is much more in play than you realize. Do you find comfort in knowing that at least?”

  “A little,” I say. But I hate living in the dark. I hate being on the outside of information. Knowing more is happening than I am aware of lets me know that this isn’t it. But it also stirs up curiosity. And that will keep my mind reeling.

  We stand in silence for several minutes. I train my eyes to see into the darker places, trying to catch a glimpse of frightened Workers running for their lives. I watch for Cash, for the other soldiers who are risking their safety to rescue my people—the ones who don’t yet know they have a people.

  It doesn’t take long for my thoughts to return to Edan. He was the soldier who saved me. Not long ago, I was the Worker running for my life, and his courage brought me to this moment. I turn away from the streets, crossing my free arm against the wind. I close my eyes. I’m torn in half. Someone was going to die, and it was meant to be Cash. That thought squeezes my throat. What I feel for Cash is beyond importance. It is a need. I need him. But Edan dying in his place hurts just as bad. I feel like I am supposed to choose one over the other. Who should have died? Which death would have been more bearable? But that’s an impossible question. I would rather they both had lived.

  “He saved me,” I whisper, forgetting that I am not alone. Takeshi shifts beside me. I look at him through my tears, desperate for something.

  “And he saved Cash,” I say, my voice shaking.

  Takeshi nods. He looks at me with so much kindness, I feel it physically, warming my heart.

  “Edan was a selfless man,” he says. “Every choice he made was for the good of someone else.”

  I nod. That sounds right. That is Edan.

  I mean…not is.

  Was.

  “Why did he do it?” I say it quietly, because I’m ashamed of the question. Asking it sounds like I wish he hadn’t taken that bullet. Wishing he hadn’t would mean that I would rather Cash had died. And that isn’t how I feel. In fact, the longer I think about it, the more grateful I am. But that makes me ashamed too.

  “Edan understood something that I think many people miss,” Takeshi says. “This thing we’re doing here, it requires forgetting yourself. Otherwise, what’s the point? These kinds of revolutions can’t be won if we’re only acting on self-preservation.”

  What’s the point, Takeshi asked me in front of the mirror all those days ago.

  “What did Jackson mean,” I say. “When he said that Cash would always be loyal to the Council?”

  I’m angry at myself as soon as I ask it. It isn’t right to go behind Cash’s back for information. But it’s a nagging thing, this question. Takeshi studies me for a moment, then smiles.

  “To be honest with you, Hannah, I’ve never seen Cash open up to a person the way he does with you. If you have questions, I think he’ll answer them.”

  I shake my head and look away. He’s wrong. Cash avoided my question.

 
; “When he’s ready,” Takeshi adds, giving me a knowing look. “But I’ll tell you this: Edan believed that Cash surviving was more important than his own life. Jackson was slandering Cash’s reputation, and Edan felt strongly enough in Cash’s innocence that he was willing to die to prove it. Everyone saw. Cash would have died buried in suspicion. But Edan stepped in. That should tell you something.”

  I don’t answer. But Edan believing in Cash, even while Jackson threw accusations, tells me that I shouldn’t doubt him. I wish I’d never said anything to Cash. I’ve told you who I am, he said to me. I can still see the hurt in his eyes when he said it. We stood in this spot last night, and I held him while he cried over his past decisions. I offered him forgiveness. But today I threw it all back in his face because I was selfish; because I didn’t want him to leave, and I was angry.

  I glance at the stars again, remembering my surprise when Cash said their name so close to me. Maybe the rest doesn’t matter. He’s told me who he was. But who he is is something entirely different. Edan laid down his life to protect Cash. Maybe that’s all I need to know.

  “Is Aspen with you?”

  I’m in the Infirmary thirty minutes later, and Aspen’s mother is changing sheets on a bed, preparing for a new wave of injured bodies. She shakes her head, eyebrows pulling in. I feel different when I look at her now. When her eyes meet mine, I’m transported to a place where fear is not an escapable thing. A piece of me grieves silently with her every time we share a room.

  I sigh, my eyes searching the rows of beds.

  “She’s training,” her mother says quietly. She glances over the room, then back to me.

  “With the soldiers?” Most of the young Workers are training, so I’m not surprised to hear that Aspen has decided to as well. But when her head shakes, I’m confused.

  “Who’s she training with?” I whisper.

  She shakes out a pillow and sets it at the head of the bed. Across the room, someone is having a coughing fit, and a nurse rushes past us. I lean over the bed and take her hand, asking again with my eyes.