by Joel Ohman
Sven looked down at the ground and then spoke very slowly. “When I was in the Tower …” He paused for a second and then picked up again. “There is a place in the Tower, below-ground, where they take the pregnant mothers and then do something with the babies. It’s below the Progenitory area where the expectant mothers and fathers are required to go to get checked out—I heard it called the Incubatorium. I think that’s where they would implant the chips—or, give the babies their first Score stamps if the Score ink is really all that’s needed for tracking—or, at least that’s where they do the different testing procedures.” His voice trailed into a whisper, and he said something so softly that Charley could just barely hear him. He wasn’t sure if Sandy even noticed, but it sounded something very much like, “At least to the babies that they let live.”
Charley weighed the options silently. He had already been plotting a way into the Tower, but it wasn’t to search for tracking chips or to investigate samples of ink, it was to get some answers from Orson at the end of his blade. But the sight of this glowing green light on the tracking chip each day had gnawed at him. Was there someone outside of Meritropolis tracking the bion and tracking each of them? Or, was the bion tracking chip just a modification of what Commander Orson used to assess each of their Scores? Charley didn’t know whether the System was a creation from within Meritropolis or an imposition from without. And maybe this was the best way to get answers.
“Let’s do it.”
“Do what?” Sandy said. “We aren’t even allowed within the fence around the Tower, let alone inside the Tower itself.”
Sven just turned the little square over and over in his hand, not once looking up.
Charley knew that whatever he’d seen in the Tower had destroyed a part of his friend, and Charley wasn’t sure if Sven would ever be the same.
“I have a plan,” Charley said simply.
Sandy sighed. “Of course you do.”
* * *
Charley crunched down on another strip of rotthog meat and grinned at Sandy from across the table. “Mmm, dog bacon. Delicious.”
Sandy rolled her eyes and made a fake gagging sound. “You know I hate it when you say that.”
“You were the one who called it that on our first hunt.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t eating it at the time,” she said, pushing her plate of half-finished meat away.
Hank chortled and slid her plate closer to him. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“Please, do help yourself,” Sandy said with a wave of her hand and a sniff.
Charley laughed, as Hank aggressively shoveled Sandy’s food into his already full mouth. Hank was unpleasant but he was nothing if not entertaining. Charley didn’t doubt that Hank still carried some resentment toward Charley, but Hank was content basking in all the attention he now received for his continually embellished account of the bion hunt. Charley had no doubt that Hank’s latest version of their story was that they had fought off an entire herd of bions and could only carry back the skull of the smallest one.
Charley smiled to himself and swallowed his food. It wasn’t too bad, actually. Very salty, but then again it was the only type of bacon that he had ever known—so as long as he didn’t think about the source, so what? He knew there were plenty of Low Scores on rations who would gladly eat it without a second thought. Anyway, enough thinking about that.
He had more important things to think about.
The plan.
He needed to get Sandy alone to discuss the part she would play. Unfortunately, it seemed that everywhere they went, Hank was sure to follow.
Somehow Hank had the idea in his head that the three of them were a special gang of monster-slayers. A notion Hank seemed to relish. From meals to hunts and training sessions with Grigor, wherever Charley and Sandy were, Hank tried his very best to be right there with them. The hunting, fighting, and training sessions with Grigor were brutal, but the three of them were fast becoming the kind of deadly skilled Hunters Grigor could be proud of. Now if only Hank could give Charley and Sandy some time alone.
No one else, including Sven, was allowed to be around him or any of the other High Scores while they were training, hunting, or eating at their special mini cafeteria of all-you-can-eat high-Score food. Back at the dorms, when Charley had some amount of freedom from Grigor’s supervision and was able to make his way to see his Sven, his friend was still quiet and sullen. Charley didn’t even bother trying to involve Sven in any plans. Sven had made it clear he would not be going into the Tower again, so Charley had left it at that. He didn’t need Sven for his plan. Nor did he need Hank and his big mouth. He did need Sandy, though, and he desperately hoped he could sell her on the part she would have to play.
Besides the problem of Hank, Charley was still debating how exactly he would tell Sandy about the plan. It was a little awkward.
“So, Hank, did you hear Lila’s questions about the bion?” Charley asked.
“What questions?”
“Oh, she was wanting to know some details about some different stuff. Bion mating, whatever. You know how it is with her and Hector and always wanting to know about animal combinations.”
“Right, well, I don’t know why she would have come to you with her questions. She should have just come directly to me. I guess I better go set her straight on whatever it is that you told her.” Hank stood up in a huff, grabbed his plate, and hustled away with an undisguised look of glee.
Sandy raised an eyebrow. “Bion mating?”
“Umm, well, yeah, speaking of mating …”
“Now that is definitely the smoothest pickup line I’ve heard so far today. You really know how to treat a girl, Charley.”
Charley felt himself blush. “No, I mean, I wanted to talk to you about my plan.”
“And your plan involves mating?” A smile was tugging at the corner of Sandy’s mouth. She was having way too much fun with this.
“No, I mean, well, kinda. It involves the appearance of mating, maybe.”
“Okay, now you’re really cranking up the charm. Why don’t you just go ahead and spit out this grand scheme of yours?”
“Umm, okay. Well, here’s the plan in a nutshell …” He scratched the side of his neck and looked at her awkwardly.
“You have to be pregnant,” Charley said.
“Umm, what?”
“I mean, we go to the Tower and tell them that you are pregnant with my child. Then they let us both in, mother and father, and take us to the Progenitory area that Sven talked about. You get checked out, and I look around a little bit.”
“You know that even without fancy machinery, a real doctor will still be able to tell right away that I’m not pregnant, right?” Sandy asked.
“We’ll figure something out.”
Sandy sighed. “It’s actually a pretty good idea. A little light on the details, but it’s good for getting us in the door at least.”
“So, you’ll do it?” Charley asked hopefully.
“My, my, so pushy to close the deal. Yes, Charley, I will have your baby.” Sandy smiled sweetly at him, her eyes lighting up at what he guessed was his now even redder face.
“Okay, uh, great. We’ll go tomorrow morning.”
“Well, I better start getting into my role, then.”
She stood up, pushed her empty tray toward him, and kissed him full on the mouth.
“Good bye, honey.” She batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly, smiled, and walked away.
Charley remained seated at the table for a moment, the blood still pounding in his ears. He rose slowly, gathered up both of their trays, and then turned to follow her.
Everything was going according to plan. So far.
CHAPTER 10
The Tower
Charley wiped his sweaty palm on his pants and then reached for Sandy’s hand. She intertwined her fingers with his, and he felt a sweat droplet bubble up on his forehead. Should he wipe it away? They were about 50 feet from the two blue-coated guards position
ed at the entryway of the 12-foot-tall chain-linked Tower fence, the same two guards who were now both watching them impassively as Charley and Sandy approached. Charley couldn’t help but wonder if he was squeezing her hand too hard.
Charley knew that he should be thinking and observing, asking himself questions like: why was the Tower and its surrounding fence so much nicer and more modern than anything else in town? Or, why did the blue-coated guards never go hungry? But all he could think about was the way Sandy’s soft skin was in full contact with his palm, gently rubbing and sliding against his hand as they walked.
And then they were there.
“Hold it right there, you two.” The smaller guard stepped forward and held up his hand. “What’s your business in the Tower?”
“We need to see a doctor,” Charley responded.
“Neither of you looks very sick.” The guard placed his outstretched hand just inches from Charley’s chest and then gave them each an appraising look up and down—lingering far too long on Sandy’s figure, Charley thought.
Charley dropped his gaze to subtly appraise the guard and then slowly lifted his eyes. The guard doing all the talking was short and evidencing symptoms of a little man complex. His much larger counterpart was languishing behind him in the shade, looking bored with his guard duties. Charley sized up his current options: it would be the work of moments to teach this little Napoleon a lesson and then dispose of his partner before either of them knew what happened.
Charley’s body moved forward almost imperceptibly, but Sandy gave his hand a little squeeze. Then she reached over with her opposite hand, latched onto his bicep, and laid her head on his arm.
“Oh, we aren’t sick! I’m pregnant!” she said to the guard, a small note of false giddiness in her voice.
The guard slowly lowered his hand.
“We just need to get into the Tower so that I can get checked out because that’s what I was told I should do. Thank you so much for keeping this place safe. I’ve never had a baby before, and I am just so nervous. Nervous and excited, of course!”
“Why, yes, of course.” The guard straightened his small frame, throwing his shoulders back and all but standing on his tiptoes. The guard looked sideways at Charley, wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something unpleasant, and then back to Sandy. “I take it that this sweaty-looking hooligan is the father?”
Sandy nodded, suppressing a smile.
The guard turned over his forearm, scratched casually above his Score of 97, and looked meaningfully at Sandy. “I could be a High Score any day now, you know. I’m so close …”
Charley took a step toward the guard and started to turn his forearm over to shove in the guard’s face—he would show him what a High Score looked like! But Sandy wrenched his arm back and stepped in front of him. She smiled sweetly at the guard. “That’s wonderful! A Score of 97! That’s impressive! I knew you were someone who could help us get in right away.”
“Why, yes, absolutely, you have come to the right person. I will, of course, need to verify that you have an appointment or confirm arrangements with someone inside the Tower.”
Charley leaned slightly forward, ready to react at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t wait to give this cocky little rooster the beat-down he deserved.
Sandy subtly gave Charley’s hand another warning squeeze, at the same time charming the guard. “Oh, well, you see, I really need to get inside right now. Right this very instant, actually. It’s a—um, a woman’s issue. I really need to see the female doctor about this thing I have, where if you—”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Uh, just go in, but you guys must have an escort with you. Sharif will take you—he’s headed to his break anyway.” The small guard backed up hurriedly and gave a nod to his partner, who was now lumbering over.
“Thank you so much. You are a lifesaver.” Sandy smiled sweetly at the little nimrod.
Charley gritted his teeth and said, “Thank you.”
Brushing by the small guard, Charley was tempted to give him a solid smack on the top of his head to knock that cockiness out. Yes, he did have business in the Tower and it was no one’s concern but his. Unwittingly, he clenched down on Sandy’s hand and she turned to him with a questioning look on her face.
“Sorry,” he breathed quietly.
He needed to keep himself under control. The last thing he wanted to do was get Sandy hurt after she had agreed to take part in his plan.
Charley and Sandy followed the slowly shuffling Sharif. Charley wondered why he couldn’t have had the good fortune of facing someone as unenthused with his job as Sharif when he fought off blue-coated guards left and right at the gates to save the little girl. But, anyway, here they were.
The Tower. It wasn’t all that impressive from the outside, since its name was kind of a misnomer. It only went up six stories, which was still about two stories higher than anything else in Meritropolis, and it looked much more solid, but like much of everything else in town, all wasn’t as it appeared from the outside. The Tower’s lower floors were rumored to go down 20 levels or more below-ground, quite similar to the underground school areas where Charley had spent most of his childhood.
All of the underground space in Meritropolis was based on precautions taken immediately after the Event. Charley wasn’t sure being deep underground was still necessary but what did he know? He was acutely aware that he only knew what Commander Orson and the System wanted him to know. Well, Charley knew that would stop today. It was time to get some answers. Starting with what exactly they were implanting in babies and what had freaked out Sven out so much while he was in the Tower.
As they approached, Charley glanced up at the door to the Tower. It was eight feet tall and made of gleaming brushed metal. From his pocket, Sharif pulled a key ring burdened with dozens of keys, inserted the largest into the lock, turned, and opened the door with a grunt. The door was impressively made. They definitely wouldn’t have been able to break into the Tower without some serious tools.
When all three were inside the door and standing in the entryway, Sharif suddenly straightened up, as if miraculously cured of a bad back.
He looked Charley in the eye and said, “Please don’t hit me on my left cheek. I’ve already got a toothache on that side that hurts like the devil.”
Charley eyed him suspiciously. “Uh, what?”
“I know who you are.”
“And who might that be?”
“You’re Charley, of course. The bion hunter. The one who saved the girl from the gates. You have a Score of 137.”
“So?”
“So you’re obviously up to something.” He rushed to finish. “And I don’t want to know anything about it, believe me. But I need you to give me a nice bruise on my cheek—my right cheek would be great—and then I can go hide out in the closet up here around the corner and make it look like you knocked me out and stuffed me there. I won’t be missed for a while anyway since I’m supposed to be on break. I could use a little nap, anyway. You would probably have a good couple of hours. Walter out front won’t miss me. He’s too preoccupied with prancing around in his uniform and trying to look important to even notice when I get back.”
“And why are you saying all of this?” Sandy asked.
Sharif paused, shrugged, and then said softly, “Not everyone who wears a blue coat is a supporter of the System. Especially those who’ve been inside the Tower.” He motioned to Sandy. “The important thing is that you head immediately over to the waiting room to get checked out. They keep logs of the door opening, and if you don’t show up in the waiting room down the hall in the next few minutes, they will come to investigate.” He looked at Charley. “You don’t have to accompany her, they won’t know that you are here too if you move fast. So, if you want to …” He paused, scratching his bushy black beard uncomfortably. “That is, if you want to explore, now’s the time. She can buy you a couple of hours.”
Charley looked at him steadily, glanced at Sandy who nodded
her approval, and then back to Sharif. “Okay,” Charley said, and then gestured over Sharif’s shoulder. “What about him? Will this guy be a problem?”
Sharif turned quickly to look over his left shoulder. “What g—?” Charley used his free hand and snapped a sharp left jab to the side of Sharif’s face, causing Sharif to exhale roughly. Spittle flung from his mouth.
He shook his head and then looked at Charley wryly. “Thanks for hitting me on my right cheek.” He massaged the wiry black beard on his face and then prodded his cheek gingerly. “Yep, that will definitely leave a mark.”
Charley shrugged. “Always better to not know it’s coming.”
“Boys.” Sandy rolled her eyes and made a snorting sound, as if the one word pretty much covered everything.
Sharif looked at Sandy. “You’ll want to go left at the end of the hallway here. You have a high Score so it won’t take more than an hour to get in to see a doctor. You don’t even want to know what happens to the Low Scores that come in pregnant.”
“Actually, I do want to know,” Charley interjected.
Sharif sighed. “I thought you might say that. You will want to turn right at the end of the hallway. Then just keep going down.”
“Okay,” Charley said, nodding at Sandy. “Let’s get going. Are you sure you are okay with going to the waiting room by yourself—you can keep them occupied for a couple hours?”
“Please, Charley. I can handle this, no sweat.” Sandy bounced lightly on her toes and flipped her hair back.
“Okay, well, when you’re done, don’t wait for me. Just leave. I’ll be out when I’m out.”
Sandy started to say something, thought better of it, and then closed her mouth. “Okay.” She squeezed his hand and then started off down the hall.
Charley turned toward Sharif and smiled. “I hope your closet’s warm. I’m going to need your guard uniform. And your keys. We’ve got to make this as realistic as possible, right?”
“Right. Of course.” Sharif groaned and then started slowly stepping out of his blue guard pants.
Once Charley was decked out in Sharif’s guard blues, with the knowledge that Sharif was safely in his closet, bound and gagged, but not too uncomfortably for his little nap, he set off down the hallway.
