by Sarah Noffke
The President isn’t waiting for me as I expected when I exit the lab. My guess is that he got confirmation another way that I’d successfully gotten my injection. The evening sun is setting as I hurry to the apartment building by the old theater. I’ve never had a reason to go there until now. I’m not sure if anyone can help me at this point, but what I need more than anything is information.
After consulting the directory I hurry off to the fifth floor, taking the stairs so I avoid anyone seeing me.
I knock as soon as I arrive at his door, afraid I’ll lose my nerve otherwise.
First I hear cursing, followed by a great deal of shuffling. Finally the door opens to a not-so-welcoming face.
“Oh, dear God, it knows where I live,” Ren says, looking down at me from the entryway.
Of course I knew where to find Ren. All single Dream Travelers are given housing in this apartment building. “I need your help,” I say, eyeing the hallway, cautious of anyone seeing me here. It would get back to my father. It would provoke questions I can’t answer.
He rolls his eyes. A bit of an immature response for a grown man, but he doesn’t seem to care about that kind of thing. “I oughtn’t have given you the impression we’re fast friends by covering for you to Lyza. Your mother just encourages me to act my worst, always has,” he says, threading his arms across his chest. “But here’s the thing, you and I aren’t pals. I don’t want to buy your Girl Scout cookies or help you with your arithmetic. So I say you pop off before I slam the door in your face. How’s that for nice?”
I take a step forward, my foot blocking the threshold.
Ren raises a red eyebrow at me, looking slightly entertained.
“Something just happened to me,” I say in a rush. “Since everybody in this society is completely brainwashed by the President, I was hoping you could help since you’re relatively new and maybe not under his spell yet.”
“Oh, the old ‘you’re the only one who’s not brainwashed’ approach,” Ren says, leaning on his open door and giving an extremely long yawn. “Really? That’s what you led with?” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “You really lack imagination. Since my books haven’t been delivered yet and I’m quite bored I’ll give you the chance to bait me one final time and then I’m sending this old door shut in your face,” he says, knocking on the surface of the door with his knuckles, his gold ring catching the hallway light.
I shake my head, take a couple of steps back. “That’s all right. What’s going on with me is really bizarre. You’ve probably never encountered it and won’t know what it is. I’ll see if Tutu knows, she’s really smart. Sorry for wasting your time,” I say and turn and leave at once, making haste to the stairwell. My hand is almost to the push bar when behind me I hear clapping. I stop. Turn. Ren still stands in his doorway. He stops clapping as soon as my eyes meet his.
“Yes, a much craftier approach. I’ve always been a fan of the old ‘you probably don’t know, so I’m not going to ask you’ method. It’s clever. Now get in here before someone sees you,” he says and disappears into his apartment.
***
Ren sits in a plaid armchair, stroking his red goatee, a look of mischief in his eyes. He hasn’t said a word for more than a minute after I’ve divulged everything: the injections, my fake fever, my encounter with the President and Tammy. The only thing I didn’t tell him about was Rogue. Even then I’m not sure why I gave him so much information. I guess it’s because I don’t have much left to lose. And Reverians aren’t allowed to contest what our government does, but an outsider might not be so inhibited.
His living room is barebones. There’s only one chair, which he’s sitting in, and a coffee table with a stack of notebooks.
“You’re a leech,” Ren finally says, breaking the silence.
“I’m what?” I say, pushing off the empty wall I’d been leaning against.
He rolls his eyes. “A leech,” he says again, slower, louder. “That’s your gift. You suck out other people’s gifts and use them as your own. Well, you borrow them, since they can still use their gift at the same time, but the effect can be draining.” Ren flicks a few specks of white lint off his black trousers and then levels his gaze with mine. “Bet your Tutu doesn’t know about that kind of gift.”
“I’ve never heard of a leech before,” I say, shaking my head at this preposterous idea.
“You’re daft if you think the Reverians would write about those with gifts like that in their dreadfully flawed textbooks.”
“Why?” I say in a hush. “Why would they hide so much from us?”
“Well, as your account with the injections has already explained, these are people who disempower and the best way to do that is to withhold knowledge.”
“Are you going to stay here now that you know all this? Now that you know what they’re doing to kids, all to keep us from overthrowing them?” I ask.
“Absol-freaking-lutely! I love a good conspiracy. And I’ve been surrounded by goody goods for too long. Nice to be the only one in government without a blackened soul.”
“But why did the President bring in an outsider?” I ask, the question popping up, demanding immediate attention.
“It sounds like he’s scared gifts are surfacing and wants confirmation as soon as they do. And as we’ve already discussed, I’m the best,” Ren says.
“But doesn’t all this information compromise the integrity of your position?” I ask.
“No, because I fulfill my position the way I see fit,” Ren says, a sneaky grin on his face.
“But what if the President catches on to you? Realizes you know about all this,” I say.
“No one ever catches on to me. I’m a master of illusion.”
“Seriously, though, how are you going to fool him?” I say.
“Seriously, though, I’m a master of illusion.” He sighs. “Blimey, why do I even waste time talking to people who don’t listen?”
“Fine. I’m listening. Tell me more about leeches. Everything I need to know,” I say, starting to pace his apartment.
“I give the orders, Emmy. So don’t be a git and tell me what to do.”
I stop. Nod. Wait.
“Now let me go ahead and bestow upon you the wisdom I know about leeches.” He stands and takes up my former position pacing, his eyes pinned on the ground as he speaks. “Leeches are rare. My granddad, your great-grandfather, was the only one I know of. Most leeches do it as a defense mechanism, although you can train yourself to do it at will. You see, leeches aren’t usually spiteful people. They do it as a defense, like a porcupine with its needles. You were feeling threatened by the President so without meaning to, you stole his gift. And then—”
“Which is?” I ask, interrupting him. He stops and glares at me, which I do my best to ignore. “Do you know what the President’s gift is?”
“He sounds like he has hyper-senses. Also rare, but not someone I’d worry about bumping into in a dark alleyway. The thing that makes the President dangerous is he has the senses of a vampire and the agenda to match.”
“Oh,” I say, thinking of the chilling moment when President Vider slid his nose against my shoulder where Rogue’s sweat had stained my clothes.
“Back to leeches,” Ren says, snapping twice in my face. “Unless you’d like to stay in your daydream or wherever your tiny brain is at the moment.”
I nod. “Yes, please continue.”
“Another thing you should know about leeches is you can suck up a little or a lot of someone’s powers. You can literally leech someone to death. However, no matter the amount, the power you take can’t be stored easily, especially not much of it, not safely. Other people’s power corrupts us if we hold it inside. It can literally burn you from the inside out.”
“What does that mean for me?” I say.
“It means if you suck something out of someone then there’s an avenue you have to use to unleash it. My grandfather expelled his through combustion. On a good day, he could le
vel a house. Probably a good thing I never saw what he could do on a bad day.”
“What?” I ask, sure that he’s joking.
“Oh God, does no one speak English around here?” Ren says.
I shake my head and try to piece together my thoughts. “You’re saying that whatever I take from someone has to come out of me somehow?”
“Ding. Ding. Ding,” he says with zero enthusiasm. “Give her a gold star…no, make it bronze on second thought.”
“But earlier, with the President and Tammy, I didn’t expel anything. Where did it go?”
“You do realize if you keep asking me these irksome questions then I’m going to lose my pleasant manner, right?” Ren says dryly.
“You don’t know the answer, do you?” I say.
He studies his fingernails, picks at one. “I haven’t got the slightest,” he says coolly. “You were given the injection, so my guess is it has to lie dormant in you until you aren’t being medicated.” Ren shrugs, still staring at his nails, his eyes growing tired. “It might kill you. Or it might give you a headache. Or it might not do anything at all. Each leech is different.”
“But it’s healthier for me if I unleash the powers I absorb, right?” I say.
“Yes, so the question is, how will yours come out?”
“That’s a crazy question,” I say, realizing it’s getting late. “Thanks for helping me.”
Ren huffs and sits down in his chair with a thud.
“I mean,” I say, walking to the exit, “thanks for barely shining any light on this matter. Your help was hardly adequate.”
At my back I actually hear a small laugh. It’s covered up by a fake cough.
“Oh, and Em,” Ren says when I’m almost to the door.
“Yes,” I say, turning to him.
“No wonder they drugged you. Not sure if they know what you’re capable of, but you’re someone I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. If you’re anything like granddad then they’re all screwed.” He smiles. “Yeah, I’m definitely sticking around to see this magic show.”
Chapter Twenty
“What are you covered in?” my mother nearly yells when I enter the house. Tutu pops her head out of her book and catches a glimpse of me from the living room. A smile unfolds, lighting up her blue eyes.
“Dear, sweet Lyza,” she says, snapping the book shut. “That’s dirt. It’s this strange substance under all our concrete. It’s as old as me.”
“I know what dirt is, Marylou,” my mother retorts. “I’m concerned why Em is covered in it.”
“Covered is a bit of an exaggeration,” Tutu says, tucking her nose back in her book. “It looks like you’ve been gardening, dear Em. Good for you.”
My mother shakes her head and rounds on me again, her face turning a slight shade of pink. “Get upstairs and bathe. I want Rachel to wash and style your hair right away.”
“I can wash my hair just fine.” I can style it too, but it’s probably better if I don’t argue with her about everything. Dee and my mother have Rachel wash, dress, and get them ready every day. They’ve deluded themselves into believing that because Rachel’s Middling family has been serving us in one capacity or another for decades she enjoys the honor. I suspect Rachel would rather be doing a lot of other things. Middlings are rarely given much choice about what job they do for the Reverians. Once they commit to serve they are elected into positions that meet their skill sets, not their interests.
I tiptoe up the stairs, careful to minimize the amount of soil that flakes off me. When I’m almost to the landing I stop and turn back to my mother. Her fuming eyes are on my back, watching me leave. “Why is it that you want Rachel to style my hair? Do we have an important event?”
“If you spent more time with Reverians and less time playing in the dirt with Middlings then you’d already know. The President has called a mandatory meeting. It’s in one hour.”
“Right,” I say, turning back around. Good thing I returned when I did. I could have spent the rest of the evening working in the fields. After another two rounds of injections today and the news yesterday, what I really wanted was to go back and see Rogue again. However, I can’t chance him getting caught, not with the President watching and threateningly suspicious of me.
I hadn’t had agriculture hours all week and Dean was glad to see me when I arrived this afternoon.
“It’s always good to have your help, and I know you enjoy the work,” he said, handing me a bucket of tools. “Thing is I don’t really need your labor as much as I have in the past. We’re fully staffed now.” He pointed with his thumb to the field behind him, which was indeed filled with more workers than I’d ever seen at the farm.
I didn’t answer, but I think the confused look on my face said it all.
“They were brought in a couple of days ago. A whole bus full of Middlings,” Dean said, angling his head low so only I could hear him. “They’re mostly transients and young adults, looking to make a fresh start. One of ’em told me they were recruited by a slick-looking fella.”
“What do they promise them?” I said.
Dean gave me a strange look. “Same thing they promised my father and all the other Middlings: a home, food, protection, and fair wages.”
“And bonuses for medical testing on their offspring,” I said, a morbid laugh escaping my lips.
“What that’s now?” Dean asked, like he misheard me.
I waved my hand to dismiss my tasteless remark. “Nothing. I was just referring to the program where Middlings can get extra compensation for doing medical testing.”
Dean scratched his head. “I don’t know nothing about that program, miss.”
“Oh, well, maybe it’s new,” I said.
“I do know that they encouraged this lot to start families whenever they want. The officials in charge of housing said they’d build more family dwellings and reconfigure as needed. That made a bunch of these fellas mighty happy,” he said, waving his hand out at the field.
“Hmmm…” I said, studying the many figures digging and plowing, working extra hard to ensure all our foods are organic and grown to exemplary standards.
“You know, it’s been good for me to be around this bunch,” Dean said, again indicating the field. “They’ve reenergized me. Made me realize how lucky I am to be in Austin Valley. How good I got it. These folks all say they’re happier, healthier, and sleep better since they arrived. You can’t beat that.”
“It must be the immune booster,” I said, assessing the rows to determine where my help could be most valuable.
“Probably the food and medicines, but definitely not the immune booster. They don’t work on Middlings. Sad, but that’s what was responsible for a string of infant deaths,” he said, his face went from confusion to remorse, like he could just barely remember his own tragedy of losing his child. The pain and memory was whisked away with a smile though, like being washed absent by a spring rain. The gap between his two front teeth was prominent when he smiled. “Good news is they’ve fixed all that. And they take a sample of blood from each new baby when they’re six weeks old to ensure they won’t have any problems. The Reverians really do think of everything and have a solution to our every problem.” He clapped a hardened hand on my back. “You should be proud of the work your father does.”
“Proud doesn’t even begin to explain the way I feel about him,” I said through a fake smile.
I recount my conversation with Dean as I shower off the dirt. Once my skin is puffy from the hot steam, I slip on my robe and head to my room, my mind continuing to comb through the details of my hours spent in the field. The Middlings, the old residents and new arrivals, all seemed genuinely happy. Dean said they were given a chance they didn’t have outside our borders. Maybe in this instance our government is doing right by them. And the testing on children? It sounds like they are trying to prevent a disease or ailment. Still, my rational brain implores me to continue doing some detective work, maybe just so I learn this is
all not nefarious.
“Not so short!” Dee screams as I enter our room. Rachel sits on her knees, filing my sister’s nails. “How ridiculous! You’d think this is the first time you’ve ever done this. Has your memory lapsed since yesterday when you did my nails?!” Dee pulls her freshly manicured hand to her face and eyes it with disgust, then her eyes swivel down on Rachel, who’s almost cowering. “Well, has it?!”
“No, miss,” Rachel says, pushing to her feet. She’s my mother’s age, but looks ten, maybe fifteen years older. Her gray hair overwhelms the rest and she moves slower than I remember in years past. She turns her eyes on me when I enter, my head in a towel and my face red from the hot shower.
“Ms. Em, may I help you get ready?” she asks, giving me an eager look.
I chance a glance at my sister. Her hair is pinned in a tight side braid, and she’s inspecting it in the mirror, complaints forming in her head. “This is all wrong. And on a night like tonight!” she fusses, throwing a hairbrush across the room. “I demand that you—”
“Why yes, Rachel, I think I could use all the help I can get,” I interrupt, grabbing the lady by the hand and pulling her over to my side of the room where my vanity sits in slight chaos. I turn over my shoulder to spy Dee piercing me with a hostile stare. “Oh, Dee,” I say, waving at her. “Would you stop worrying? You look so good I positively want to be you.”
She dabs too much powder onto the end of her pointy nose and smirks. “You wish you had a gift as amazing as mine. Well, you just wish you had a gift,” she says with an evil cackle.
“How right you are. I only wish I had my gift.” Then I’d singe off your eyebrows. I’m just about to run the brush through my hair, when Rachel’s hand stops me. I look up to catch her thoughtful eyes.
“Please, allow me, miss,” she says, taking the brush from me. “And you really don’t want to overbrush hair like yours, you’ll frizz your curls.”
“What’s this ‘allow me’ business, Rachel?” Dee says, acid in her tone. “You’re never so polite to me.”
“She pities me and my bad hygiene,” I say, winking at Rachel in the mirror. She winks back.
