by Alex London
Most of the people were on the younger side, male and female in roughly equal numbers. He couldn’t see the old man anymore, but he made out the lowered head of an older woman trying to press her way forward. She was covered in a headscarf and she avoided looking at anyone as she wriggled through the throng. People gaped at her with unmistakable contempt. A few tried to look away, to act like they hadn’t seen her. Still others made way as she passed, trying to avoid even so much as touching the cloth of her blouse. When she glanced up, Syd saw that she too was covered with a network of dark lines, her blood turning against her in her veins.
Syd had stopped moving to watch the old woman and, in pausing, had allowed a crowd to mass in front of him. They all reached out, they all wanted to touch him.
“Yovel!” one yelled. “I knew you in the Valve! It’s me! We were friends!” Syd didn’t recognize the guy, who would’ve called him Syd if they really knew each other. And anyway, back in the old days, Syd only had one friend.
And he was dead.
“Yovel!” a teenaged girl yelled. “My patron had me punished every day for her crimes! I would have killed myself if not for you!”
“Yovel! Marry me!” a girl barely ten years old shouted. Others around her laughed. They were all young.
Syd let the little girl knock her fist against his. Other hands wrapped around theirs, locking them together. He felt hands on his arms, hands on his waist, on his shoulders. The stench of their bodies, their breath, their need . . . it overwhelmed him. He felt himself being sucked forward into the mass. The Purifiers in front of him couldn’t hold the line. It was about to break.
And there was the old woman, directly in front of him.
“It . . . burns . . . ,” she said with visible effort.
“What?” Syd tried to free one of his hands to pull the old woman closer, where he could talk to her, but there were too many other hands grasping him. The air around him felt as heavy as wet wool and stank of sweat.
The woman’s mouth bent. Her eyebrows crushed her eyes. She turned red with effort but she produced words. “Blood,” she whispered. “Blood—burns.” She scratched at herself. “Help us to—”
She was cut off by unseen hands pulling her back, and she was gone into the crowd. Syd tried to move in after her, to cross through the Purifiers’ linked arms and ask the woman what she meant, how he could help, what he was supposed to do for her, but there were faces in his face, and still more hands on his body and they tugged at him, and they squeezed him and he felt like he was drowning. Some way to die, choking on the breath of his own believers.
He gave Liam a look, and unhesitating, the bodyguard yanked him back, thrusting his body between the crowd and Syd. His metal hand swatted the other hands away, shoved people down, broke their grip. Others rushed forward, a Purifier fell, was trampled, and the rest began wielding their clubs to beat people back.
Brother Jenz cried out for calm, for order, but no one heard him over the panic. A stampede came at Syd. Liam punched someone back, knocked him out with one blow and then his arms wrapped around Syd, practically lifting him off the ground. He sprinted them both up the ramp and into the hovercraft. Purifiers cracked their clubs and knocked the crowd apart.
Syd looked over his shoulder as they climbed aboard. He saw Baram struggling up with people grabbing at his clothes, and behind Baram, as the ramp began to lift, he saw the Purifiers shoving deeper into the crowd, wading into the seething bodies. He saw the old woman. She met his eyes for just a second as two white masks blocked her from his view. At the back of the crowd, he saw others, six or seven people, all of them frail, stumbling, lined with heavy black veins, hauled away by Purifiers. When one of them fell, he saw a club rise and he saw it fall.
“Those are people,” Syd said. “They can’t do that to people!” But no one could hear him. The ramp wasn’t even fully closed when the engines growled and the entire ugly scene vanished in a cloud of dust.
[14]
WHEN THEY TOUCHED DOWN in the alley beside the old school hours later, Counselor Baram left the hovercraft without a word. He hadn’t spoken to Syd the entire ride, busying himself in the cockpit with the pilots, even as Syd demanded explanations from him.
“They were taking away regular people,” Syd called after. “Not Guardians. Those weren’t Guardians who were infected!”
“Syd, let him go.” Liam stopped him. “Let’s get inside where it’s safe.”
“Safe from what?” Syd snapped at him. “Stop being paranoid.”
“My paranoia keeps you alive,” Liam responded. “Get inside.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
“Syd, please. I’m just trying to—” Suddenly, Liam stopped. His hand went down to his belt and came up with the bolt gun, spring locked to fire.
“Don’t shoot.” Marie stepped from the door of the school in her Purifier uniform. “My arm is fine, by the way.”
“What are you doing here?” Liam lowered the weapon. “I could have shot you. Again.”
“It went so well for you last time.” She smiled, pulling off her hood and running her hand through her hair.
Syd would never cease to be amazed by her guts. Everyone else cowered in front of Liam, even if he had never done anything to them. He’d shot Marie, and still she talked back.
“I need to talk to Syd,” she said.
“How did you even know about this place?” Liam demanded.
Marie shrugged.
“I told her,” said Syd. Liam gave him a disapproving look. “Someone had to know where I was.”
I’m someone, thought Liam, but out loud he said, “We can’t talk out here.”
Marie opened her arms. “So you going to invite me in?”
Syd didn’t give Liam a chance to answer. “I am. Come on.”
When they got to Syd’s room, Liam did not want to leave them alone together.
“Don’t worry,” Marie scoffed. “He’s not my type.”
“I’ll be right outside,” Liam grumbled, leaving the door cracked open while he took up his post. Liam couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt. Marie knew Syd in a way he never could, a way Syd would never let him.
When Liam had gone out, Marie relaxed a bit. “Cheery room,” she said, looking over the blank walls and the unmade cot. Syd’s clothes were strewn about, and while he cleared them off his chair for her, she fired a quick glance to his bucket in the corner.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I empty it regularly.”
“I’m surprised Liam lets you out to do that,” Marie replied.
“Oh, he doesn’t,” said Syd. “I’m allowed to use a bot for that. The programming is pretty basic, and I had to fix it myself, but they decided it was better than giving me the chance to slip away. Also, how would the people feel if they knew what my bowel movements smelled like?”
Marie snorted a laugh and sat down on the chair opposite Syd’s cot. “People know you’re human, Syd.”
“You’d be surprised.” Syd sat on the edge of his cot, directly across from her, so close their knees touched. He spoke quietly, certain that Liam was listening. “I’m a little surprised Liam let you come in here anyway. He’s . . . possessive.”
“He’s just being protective,” she said. “But anyway, he owed me one.”
Syd feigned shock. “He owed you! Why, Purifier Alvarez, debt language is forbidden in this new age of ours!”
“I’m glad you appreciate the irony,” she said. “Listen, I’m not here to talk about Liam.”
“I figured.”
“I need your help.”
“My help?” Syd looked around his messy room. “I’m stuck in here. There’s not much I can do for anybody.”
Marie took a deep breath. She was going against all her ideals here. The girl who risked everything to wipe out the privilege her family enjoyed
was about to ask for special privilege for her family. No going back now. She’d come this far and a week had already passed.
“Something’s wrong with my father,” she said. “He won’t survive on the half rations he’s taking because of what happened last week. I need . . . I need you to intervene.”
Syd shot up like he’d been jolted by an EMD stick. “What kind of sick?”
“I don’t know.”
“Itching?”
Marie nodded.
“Veiny . . . like you can see his veins?”
Marie hesitated. “I know what you’re saying, but he just needs more food. He’ll be fine if he doesn’t starve. You can help with that.”
“I think it’s more serious,” said Syd.
“You’re a doctor now?”
“I just notice things.”
Marie stood again, turned her back on Syd. “No. If this infection is spreading, the Reconciliation has doctors. They’ll get it under control.”
“Like they’re doing with the Guardians?”
“I know you think they’re being cruel to the nonoperatives, but they’re dying anyway and it was just—”
“I get it,” said Syd. “You did your job. You don’t need me to forgive you.”
“But I do,” she said. “I need you to help my parents.”
“You think I’d let them die out of what? Spite?”
Marie shrugged.
“You don’t think much of me,” Syd said.
“I do,” said Marie. “I want to . . . but ever since Knox . . . you know. You’re supposed to inspire people. All you do is sulk. People are losing faith in you.”
“I don’t know why they have faith in me in the first place.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You sound just like Baram and Liam, you know?”
“They’re right.”
“I went to a co-op today.” Syd closed his eyes. “Smiled at people, put on a good face . . . and it turned into a riot. I’m sure people died. Every time I do anything, people die. You were with me from the beginning. You know the body count. I’m not supposed to be anyone’s inspiration. I’m a fake.”
“So what? Everyone’s a fake. At least you can give people hope if you can stop thinking about yourself for one second.” Marie regretted saying it as soon as she said it. She knew she shouldn’t be antagonizing Syd, but he was even worse than her parents. They had a reason to resist the way things were; Syd was just being difficult. “I’m sorry,” she added.
“I saw other sick people today.” Syd stood up beside her. “Regular people and they were starting to look just like the . . . nopes. The moment I was gone, I think they were dealt with by some of your white-hooded friends.”
“No,” said Marie. “That’s not what we do.”
“I saw it.”
“You believe the worst about everything.”
“Experience has yet to prove me wrong.”
“Well, this isn’t what you think.” Marie looked around his depressing room, looked at the puffiness around his eyes, the red rims. He hadn’t been sleeping. He was a boy who couldn’t let the past go. He wouldn’t let himself forget any of the bad he’d been through or remember any of the good. “Not everything in this world has to be horrible, Syd. Have some faith. Knox did.”
Syd winced at the name on someone else’s lips.
“He died so that you could live,” she went on. “You can’t just wallow in self-pity. He gave you a future.”
“Why don’t we go see your parents?” Syd changed the subject. “I’ll have a talk with the leaders of their co-op and we’ll get their rations back up. Maybe Yovel can be good for something more than waving at people.”
“No way.” Liam came into the room. He’d been listening the entire time. “That is way against the rules. Her parents live in a restricted area. It’s a reeducation camp. The Council would have both our heads for going there.”
“Liam, this is something I can do,” said Syd. “I can get her parents enough to eat. Don’t you want to see Yovel make people’s lives better? I thought you were a believer.”
Liam sympathized. “Look, Syd, I know you want to help, but we need to get approval for this kind of thing. I can’t keep you safe if a riot breaks out among all the patrons they’ve got working on that farm. Most of them hate you.”
“I’m not sitting in this room doing nothing while people are dying,” said Syd.
“I . . . well . . . ,” Liam stammered. He looked at Marie, wished she weren’t there, wished he could have just a moment alone with Syd. But it was now or never. He had to try something to stop Syd from this crazy idea. “Look, I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. “Something you’ll like. I’ve been saving it for you. You see, I found this handmade—”
“I don’t want your surprises,” Syd cut him off. “I want you to take me to Marie’s parents.” Syd crossed his arms. He met Liam’s eyes. As hard as Liam’s face was, the eyes had that pleading dampness. His cheeks were flushed, chastened at being cut off in front of Marie. Strong as he was, he looked terribly vulnerable at that moment, and Syd realized then that he had never really looked at Liam before, never closely. Liam had been more like a piece of furniture than a person, even as Liam looked at him all the time. He saw Liam’s eyes widen with expectation for what Syd would say next, what this long, lingering stare could mean.
So Syd told him: “You will take me or else I’ll have the Council remove you from my protection assignment. For personal reasons.”
“I don’t know what you’re . . . I have no . . .” Liam blushed bright now, the way anglo boys did. Syd just stared at him, his own features showing a practiced indifference. Marie raised her eyebrows, waiting.
Liam felt like the ground had fallen out from under him.
“I’m not sure I can take you there.” He looked away, standing up straight, returning to his military posture. Now was not the time to fall apart. “It’s not an area I’m authorized to be in.”
“But you will take me anyway,” Syd told him.
It wasn’t a question so much as an order and Syd had no doubt Liam would follow it.
[15]
IT HAD TAKEN A few days, but Liam finally found a way to get them to the cooperative on the edge of the city without getting in trouble. When they arrived, morning mist still hung over the fields and the high dirt berms and low-slung buildings. With the rattle of a prerecorded holo projected on the side of a building, a glorious sunrise over the jungle canopy, and a swell of music, the workers rose to a new day of labor for the prosperity of the Reconciliation and the benefit of their community.
Or they should have.
Other than the music and the holo hanging in front of the meeting tent, the co-op was dead quiet when Liam, Syd, and Marie arrived. The fields were empty. The dining tent too. They picked their way over the uneven dirt toward the barracks, a knot of anxiety clenching in Marie’s stomach.
Outside, leaning against the tractor in the same position she had seen him in before, was the young Purifier, sleeping soundly. He didn’t have his white mask on, as it was again pressed behind his head for a pillow. His face was dotted with zits, his mousy hair tussled and unruly, and a slick of drool hung from his mouth, dangling precariously over his chest.
They stood over him. Marie put on her white mask.
He snored.
Marie coughed and the boy’s head snapped up. The thread of drool broke and dripped onto his uniform. He hopped to his feet, looking around frantically for the white mask, which had fallen behind him and on which he was now standing.
“Purifier! Where is your community? Why are they not preparing for the day? Why are you sleeping on duty again?” Marie grilled the boy, flashing anger through the eyeholes in her mask, and doing her best to amplify the terror the boy was obviously feeling.
“I
. . . they . . . ,” the boy stuttered. “Is that . . . Syd?”
Liam clenched his fist, but the boy didn’t even seem to notice.
“Syd!” He almost jumped. “It’s me! Tom? From school? Remember me?”
“I thought you were Arik the Destroyer,” Marie said.
“Tom!” he said again. “My name was Tom! We were, like, friends?”
“Uh . . .” Syd had a vague memory of the kid’s face and a broken holo projector he’d wanted Syd to fix. They’d hardly been friends.
“Have you come . . .” The boy looked conspiratorially between Syd, Marie and Liam. “Have you come to save me?”
“Save you?” Marie grunted at the boy. “What do you need to be saved from?”
“You mean . . .” The boy was perplexed. “You don’t know? The infection?”
He pointed to the barracks, shaking his head. Marie moved toward the door.
“Don’t go in there,” the boy warned. “It’ll take you too.”
“Where are the other Purifiers?” Liam asked.
The boy shook his head.
“Sick?” Syd glanced at the dark doorway.
“Ran off,” the boy said. “I’m the only one who stayed.” He cleared his throat. Stood tall. “I’m not a deserter. I’m loyal to the Reconciliation.”
“Why didn’t you report this to your guidance counselor?” Marie whirled around on the boy.
Tom looked at his feet. “I did,” he said.
“He ran off too?” Syd asked.
Marie was disgusted. How weak these cadres of Purifiers were. How cowardly. How could they build a better world if they were afraid of some sick people?
“No,” the boy told them. “He’s inside. The infection got him.” The boy finally met Marie’s eyes. “I know who you are, Marie. It got your parents too. It’ll get everyone. It’s our punishment. We never should have changed the way things were.” He looked at Syd. “You never should have broken the—”
Marie didn’t stick around to hear the frightened boy’s rambling. She plunged into the dark of the barracks to find her parents. Syd followed her. Liam hesitated.
