7
Ben’s knuckles rapped harshly against the old wooden door, echoing out across the yard with its overgrown grass and the garden that hadn’t been weeded in months. Ben stepped back from the door and glanced down the street lined with similar townhouses. He noted with dismay that Jen’s lawn was the ugliest. Did it mean she didn’t care about the house, or about her new man who supposedly looked after her better than he ever could? Did it mean her new man had left her and she was all alone here with Timothy? Maybe she didn’t even live here anymore.
Before heading out to Jen’s, Ben had dropped Fin off at a bar so he could get something to eat. He’d told Fin he wasn’t hungry and was going have a look around N.G. Tech. Fin had stood outside the car door, giving him a knowing look through the glass. On the way to Jen’s, Ben had told himself not to expect anything of her, but it was almost impossible to stop the ideal scenario playing repeatedly in his mind: her clinging to him, begging him with her eyes to be taken back to Milford where they could live the life Ben had always dreamed of.
The door creaked as someone’s body pressed against it to look through the peephole, then the locks slid back and the door opened. Jen stood there staring at Ben, blinking, her mouth half-open, unsure of what to say. Ben realized that for all the times he had gone through this moment in his head, he hadn’t once considered what his first words to her would be. Now the moment had actually arrived, all he said was, ‘Hey, Jen.’
She still didn’t speak, and adjusted herself uncomfortably beside the door. The smell of cooking floated out past her. She wore no make-up and her hair was done up into a bun on the top of her head. An apron hung limply to her knees. She’d never worn an apron before, and last time he’d seen her, her hair had been dyed peroxide white with streaks of blue. Now it was its natural color—a mousy brown.
‘Ben,’ she said, finally finding her voice. ‘What are…? I haven’t seen you in…ages.’
‘I know. I’ve been wantin’ to see you.’ No, not wanting, needing. ‘Can I come in?’
She glanced behind her. ‘I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’
‘Just for a few minutes. Then I’ll be gone.’
She stepped back, opening the door a little wider for him to come inside. He shuffled awkwardly into the foyer, looking around at the walls lined with her paintings. They brought him back to his time at Northfork, when she would wake up early to go out and paint while watching the sun trickle over the water. A table was pushed against the wall with a wilted plant drooping over its pot.
Jen popped her head out the door and quickly checked down the street before closing the door and deadbolting it behind them. She walked past him, keeping her distance, to the kitchen. Ben followed.
‘You want something to drink?’ she asked perfunctorily.
‘Water would be good, thanks.’
As she brought down a glass, she asked, ‘What’re you doing here? In the North.’
‘I’ve got a job. Just for today. The payoff’s gonna be huge.’ Ben leaned into a seat at the kitchen table.
Jen dropped some ice cubes into the glass. ‘You’re still living that life?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Just this last job and I’m done.’
She ran some water into the glass and put it beside his hand. He watched her fingers slide down the condensation-soaked glass. Her fingernails were unpainted, her skin tanned. ‘There’s only so much risk someone can take until it catches up to them,’ she said.
‘I told you Jen, I’m done.’ He looked away from a half-finished painting still on an easel in the corner. Instead of sunrises, Jen had been painting the flats, with the rippled expanse of sand and sparse buildings. It looked like she had added the Wall in the distance, hazy and foreboding.
She smiled and gave the slightest laugh. ‘But you’re here, aren’t you? You say you’re done but you’re on a job right now.’ Even her laugh was different.
‘I had to see you.’
She whipped her head back and let out an exasperated breath. ‘I knew this was coming. I knew…’
‘I also came to see him—our son.’
The breath died in her throat. ‘If Merrill shows up while you’re here, he’ll kill you.’
‘I crossed the Wall to see you. I’m not afraid of Merrill.’
Jen motioned towards a room at the back of the house. Ben left his untouched glass sitting in the center of the kitchen table with beads of water gathering around its base and followed her. He noticed the tattoo on her leg; he’d almost forgotten about that. He pictured tracing his finger over the black lines, leaning in to kiss it as she’d lain over their bed. The tattoo screamed defiance and rebelliousness and contrasted sharply with her housewife’s apron and pot full of stew, as if she was working hard to be someone else.
Light streamed into the room through the window. In the center was an antique crib, above which danced a homemade mobile.
‘How old is he?’ Ben whispered, looking down at Timothy.
‘Fourteen months.’
He hadn’t been sure how he’d feel when he saw the boy. He knew there’d be something, some kind of untapped emotion, but not this. He bit his tongue to keep from crying. A rock sank in his throat, lodging itself behind the Adam’s apple. Timothy’s wispy hair was brown like his own, and he had big blue eyes like his mother. Ben bent down and scooped him out of the crib without waking him. He’d missed out on so much time with him. The boy didn’t know his father; he had no idea that these arms that held him were of the same blood.
‘Come back with me,’ Ben said suddenly, overcome with emotion. Jen’s face fell. ‘We can create a new life. I can take care of both of you. Once this job’s done, I’ll have everything we need. We can go anywhere. We don’t need to stay in Milford.’
‘Ben…’ Jen took Timothy from his arms and instinctively began rocking him slowly. ‘My life is here. Timothy’s father is here.’
‘Merrill ain’t his father.’
‘Not by blood, no, but in every other way. Timothy already thinks of him as his dad.’
‘You can’t do this, Jen. I’m Timothy’s dad. It’s not right to just take him away from me.’
Jen stepped back, sensing the anger growing inside Ben. ‘What you’re doing now isn’t right. Why are you here? Did you come just to turn my world upside down and then leave? That’s not fair, Ben. You’re putting us in danger just by being here.’
‘Not fair? While we’re on the subject of fair, why don’t we consider my role in this? I never get to see my son. I never get to see you. I won’t see him grow up into a man. I could pass him on the street one day and wouldn’t know it. I want to take care of both of you, don’t you get that? We loved each other once, enough to create this child. We can get all that back.’ Ben felt like a different person as he spoke. No longer was he the silent smuggler stalking the Boneyard; now he was a man stripped bare, almost to the bone.
Jen lowered Timothy into the crib. He rolled onto his side, sleeping peacefully, unconcerned with the tension mounting in the nursery. ‘No we can’t. I don’t want anything back. I’m happy here,’ she whispered.
Ben wanted to scream; he wanted to call her a cheating bitch, hurl the rocking chair against the wall, punch through the window with his fist; he wanted to show her his anger, show her that he could be powerful if he wanted to be. But it all faded at the thought of waking Timothy. The baby didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of their discord. Ben squeezed the bridge of his nose, fighting to hold back his anger.
‘You should leave,’ Jen said. ‘Before Merrill gets home.’
She waited for him to exit the nursery, as if she was afraid to leave Ben and Timothy alone in the same room. I’m not goin’ to kidnap my own boy, he thought spitefully.
He walked through the kitchen, where the untouched glass of water glistened in its own puddle, to the front door. With a hand on the doorknob, he stopped and looked back at her standing in the center of the foyer on the frayed rug. It had been
so long ago that they’d made love in the cabin in Northfork, that they’d spent time together relaxing in each other’s company without the need for talk to ruin it. Outwardly, this Jen was a different person, but Ben didn’t think people really changed all that much. The girl he had loved was still there, he was sure of it. Jen just needed to let her out. Did he still love her? He didn’t know—but it didn’t matter. He wanted to be with her; love would follow as it had in the past.
She unbolted the front door and opened it for him. He left without a word, heaving himself down the townhouse steps to the path leading to the hovercar. He heard the door shut and lock behind him. The rock in his throat had grown larger and his eyes felt like they might burst at any moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such emotion.
He got in the car and started the engine. The entire thing felt like a dream. It had all happened so fast. The memory was barely there, but the feelings were strong, the feelings of rejection and failure. He watched the sun set in the distance. The sight rapidly brought him back to the present: he was in the North and he had a task to complete, a task at which he couldn’t fail.
8
Ben and Fin sat in silence as they followed the bleeding red lights of the N.G. Tech employee’s vehicle gliding quietly through the empty streets. The night was beautiful. Distant mountains topped with blinking blue and green lights towered over the circular buildings of New Gravity.
As they pulled into the neighborhood, Ben handed Fin the six-shooter. Fin sat it across his leg that bounced up and down with nervous anticipation. He’d told Ben that he’d had a few shots to steady his nerves in the bar where Ben had picked him up. But he could handle his liquor well—that was something Ben liked about Fin, though it had been several months since they’d drank together. Ben gritted his teeth and tried not to think about Jen. He had to keep his mind focused on the task at hand.
The vehicle up ahead slowed and turned into the driveway of a darkened house. Ben jerked to a halt behind the man’s car. Its back door was wide open and the man had his head buried in the back seat as he retrieved things to bring inside. Fin leapt out, gun drawn, and ran over to the man who pulled his head out to see what was going on. When he saw Fin, he froze, wide-eyed.
‘Get in or die on the curb,’ Fin said calmly. The man didn’t move, so Fin grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him towards the road. ‘Do it now or I swear I’ll shoot you in the face.’
With a trembling hand, the man fumbled with the door handle and got inside the stolen hovercar, pressured by the pistol hovering inches from his temple. Fin slid inside and slammed the door shut. He faced the man, leveling the gun at his chest.
It was Ben’s turn to speak. ‘What’s your name?’
The man’s eyes darted frantically from Ben to Fin. His lips quivered, unable to produce any sound.
‘What’s your name?’ Ben asked firmly. ‘I ain’t askin’ again.’
Slowly, the man mustered his courage and stammered, ‘R-R-R-Rick.’
‘Rick, we don’t want to hurt you, but we will if we need to. We’ve come a long way and a shit like you isn’t much of an obstacle. Are you goin’ to cooperate with us?’
Rick didn’t say anything.
‘Answer him.’ Fin pushed the pistol forward until it nearly touched Rick’s nose.
In the rearview mirror, Ben saw Rick nod faintly. He looked close to passing out. Ben wouldn’t have been surprised if he had pissed himself. ‘Stay with us Rick,’ he said. ‘This’ll all be over soon. It can end with you dead in a ditch or alive and healthy.’
Ben put on the gas and pulled away from Rick’s house, moving carefully down the street, checking the side mirrors to see if anyone had noticed them. He looked at Rick in the rearview mirror once again. ‘You’re an employee at N.G. Tech, isn’t that right?’
Another desperate nod.
‘Tell us where the blueprints are kept.’
At first Rick looked confused, like that was the last question he expected. ‘I…’ he began, before breaking down. ‘Oh, God, please don’t hurt me.’
Fin lunged forward with his fist and smacked Rick on the side of the head. ‘We don’t have all fuckin’ day! If you haven’t told us everything by the time we get there, I’m going to shoot your dick off.’
‘I–I don’t know where they’re kept. Transcribing, that’s all I do, I swear.’
‘C’mon, Rick, put some thought into it. Where d’they keep the blueprints? I know you got an idea,’ Ben said, his eyes flickering from the rearview mirror to the street.
‘I don’t…I don’t know!’
‘Don’t bullshit us! Remember now or we’re pulling over and dumping you.’
Rick cowered, hands raised beside his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wailed, ‘The third floor. They keep hard copies in storage on the third floor. It’s a room on the…the east wing marked rec–records.’
Fin snatched Rick’s nametag from his chest. ‘Can this get us access to the room?’
‘Yes,’ he sobbed. ‘That’ll get you anywhere in the building.’
The shadows passing over them hid Ben’s smile. Hard copies? They wouldn’t even have to waste time hacking into a computer and loading it onto a disc.
He turned into the alley beside N.G. Tech and said, ‘That’s great, Rick. That wasn’t all that hard. But if we find out that anythin’ you told us is a lie, we’re going to kill you when we get back. Now, is there somethin’ you want to change before we go up there?’
With his hands still covering his face, Rick moaned, ‘It’s all true, I swear to you I’m not lying. Just let me go home.’
‘We will.’ Ben stopped the car in the center of the alley with N.G. Tech on their left. ‘Once we’re done.’ He glanced at Fin in the rearview mirror and gave him a barely noticeable nod.
Fin fired and Rick screamed as a tranq bullet thudded into his chest. He immediately slumped over, unconscious. Fin patted his cheek. ‘Go to sleep now, worker bee.’
They locked Rick in the car and started climbing the fire escape ladder that followed the circular slope of the building. Ben led the way, glancing back every few rungs to make sure nobody was watching them from the street. He checked his watch. It was nearly ten p.m.—early for something like this, but he and Fin had grown desperate. Both wanted to get the hell out of the North, and they were willing to take risks to ensure that that happened sooner rather than later.
They reached the top of the ladder, but before jumping over the railing onto the roof, Ben heard footsteps and stopped. His heart rammed rapidly, clawing like a shovel against his chest. He waved a hand to Fin. Slow down.
He peered over the rail. The guard they had seen that morning was leaning against the fire escape smoking—Ben sniffed—weed. The guard’s eyes were closed as he exhaled the thick smoke into the wind. Ben’s eyes searched the rest of the roof to make sure the guard was alone.
‘Tranq gun,’ he whispered. Fin handed him the pistol.
Ben watched, waiting for the guard to look away. Finally, when the joint was smoked down to its butt, the guard dropped it to the ground and began stomping it out. Ben jerked upwards with the pistol in both hands, aimed as quickly as he could, and fired. The guard slunk down without even looking up.
They stepped over him and found the fire escape door locked. Ben dropped beside the guard and checked his belt and pockets for keys. He found them empty save for two condoms and a baggie of pot. A noise, metal tearing from metal, pulled his attention away from the guard. Fin stood on the far side of the door holding a fist-sized security camera, wires spiraling from its squared face, red light dimming beneath the black eyepiece. ‘They haven’t upgraded security in this building in years. Still using varifocal cameras.’
Ben checked the area around the door and found a square box with a small retina scanner in its center. He glanced back at the guard who lay on his side, face to the ground. ‘Help me lift him.’
Fin tossed the security camera aside and bent dow
n near the guard’s shoulder. Together they hoisted him up and propped him against the door. Holding him under the armpits, they shimmied him to the side until his face was directly in front of the retina scanner. Ben peeled open the guard’s eye as they eased him forward. The scanner glowed red for several seconds, before lighting up green and the heavy deadlocks slid out of place. With his other hand, Ben grabbed the door handle and pulled it open a few inches to keep it from locking them out. Then he eased the guard down on his back and used his legs to prop open the door.
They ran down the steps to the third floor, hurrying along the white tiled hallway. Dim lights glowed in the ceiling, barely bright enough to create shadows. Each door was pale gray with golden lettering in the center; they passed doors marked Recovery, Finance, Innovations, and Tech, until they finally came to Records at the end of the hall. Fin took the badge from around his neck and slid it over the white keypad. It made a tiny beep, lit up green, and the door audibly unlocked.
The room was full of cabinets and closets. Fin went around the room’s perimeter, tearing security cameras from the walls, and when he found one he couldn’t reach, he smashed its lens with a chair. Ben began working on the cabinets. Most could be wrenched open, and the closet doors kicked in, though he had to pick the lock on a couple of them, a trick he’d learned from Townes in the orphanage.
Our Home is Nowhere (The Borrowed Land, Book 1) Page 4
