by Sarah Noffke
Parker pinches the bridge of his nose and stares at the ground. “Well, I won’t be here to help. Sorry,” he says, giving me a half-apologetic shrug. “If I’m not leaving with you right now then I’m leaving anyway.”
“What?” I say, caught off guard by his full shift since last night. He had signed on to help, but still seemed terrified by the idea of leaving and going against Vider by helping his outcast son.
“I checked into some of the things you shared with me. I can’t find concrete evidence, but I can find enough suspicious pieces, things that don’t add up. And nothing contradicts what you say. What’s strange is there’s so much in plain sight now that I’m looking, but I never thought to look before.” He scratches his head, his arm, his side. A nervous habit. Looks up at me, startled. “Why didn’t I think to ask for so long? Why did I simply go along with all this? There’s so many things I never even had a curiosity about.”
I nod at him, realizing how frustrating this must be. I can’t relate. I always saw the contradiction in our society. But for someone seeing it for the first time, it must be jarring. “Parker, you were under brainwashing and who knows what else. The thing about Vider is he knows how to keep people happy so that they don’t ask questions.”
He nods. “Yeah, I’ve always been happy here. That’s why I never left.”
“I’m sorry to take that away from you,” I say, meaning it.
He shakes his head and ties his skinny fingers together again and again. “No, I’m glad you did. I’d rather know what I was doing and stop it, than be ignorant and happy. I couldn’t tell my family though.” He gives me a startling sober look, one that makes me want to put back up the facades I ripped from this man’s life. “They’re happy. As happy as I’ve always been. Overworked, but happy. My umma and appa deserve that since they aren’t doing anything wrong unknowingly, like I was.”
Parker means his mother and father. Umma and Appa. He still refers to them in his native Korean tongue. Thank the gods he doesn’t have a wife or he’d be in a real dilemma right now.
“I’m sorry, but Parker, you can’t leave. Neither can I.”
Parker bristles, regards me like I’ve insulted him. “Em, there’s no way I can go back to my work after what you told me. Do you know how difficult it was for me to inject patient after patient today? Child after child?” His voice cracks. His face too. “And then I searched and found the withdrawals from the Middling babies. I’d never been to that part of the lab. Never understood it, until I witnessed it firsthand today. Em,” he says, his voice a shiver. “I watched from a windowed door as they withdrew spinal fluid from a baby. An infant. That’s not what they were supposed to be doing. Who knows what they tell those doctors to convince them they’re doing the right thing. And the Middling parents have no idea.” He’s speaking in a panicked rush, his voice climbing with terror. “There’s no way to prove anything and there’s so many disconnects to the work. Like Zack said, they compartmentalized it all. And I—”
“Parker,” I say, my voice steady, “I realize you want to run, but you have nowhere to go.” Poor, sweet Parker. I never wanted to scar him with this, but there’s no other person I trust more for what I have planned.
“I could go back to where I grew up, up north,” he says.
“And they would replace you, and someone else would do your job.”
“But it wouldn’t be me.”
“And how would you sleep at night, knowing you ran from these injustices?”
He looks at the leaf-covered ground, ashamed. “I can’t stay.”
“I know you don’t want to. I don’t want to be here either. I don’t want to watch Rogue suffer. I don’t want to know Nona is receiving gift-suppressing-injections every day, but there’s certain things we have to do as Rebels.”
At the mention of the word his eyes flick to mine. “Rebels?” He says the word like he hasn’t heard it in a long time and it brings with it meaning and inspiration and passion.
“Yes, the Defects are not defective at all. We think for ourselves. We ask questions. We are Rebels. And you could be one too now that you know the truth.”
“A Rebel,” he says, testing the word in his mouth.
A smile flicks to my face. “You like the sound of that, huh?”
He returns the smile. A cautious one. “What would it involve?”
“Are you the only doctor who gives injections?”
“No, there are others but I don’t know them. They have their own patients. We aren’t encouraged to talk.”
I nod, having expected this. Everything is divided up at the labs, separate entrances for different patients and different patient types. Maybe ten doors flank the front of the building, all marked with numbers. Mine was always door 126. Parker’s office. I had suspected that Parker wasn’t the only one giving injections.
The wheels in my head spin at double speed, making sure the plan is laced together perfectly.
“What if,” Parker says, looking off, seeming to be brainstorming as well, “I pretend to inject my patients? I can formulate something harmless to give them. It shouldn’t be that difficult to do.”
I shake my head, having considered this. “No. For one, their gifts would surface. Then you’d be in trouble and we need you not to gain any attention from the Government Center. And secondly, that’s why I asked about the other doctors. If there’s other doctors doing this then if you stopped giving injections it would only create a small rebellion. If we’re going to do this then we need to think big.”
Parker slides his hands into his jacket pockets and pins his shoulders up by his ears. “I don’t know then.” He doesn’t look like himself anymore. In twenty-four hours he’s lost the easiness in his expression. Now he’s on alert. Tense. Strained.
“I’m not happy to ask you to do this, but you have to keep giving the injections,” I say, slowly. Carefully.
He blows out an exasperated breath. “I figured you were going to say that.”
I nod. “I need you to act normal when around Reverians.”
He rips his hands out of his jacket pockets. Throws them in the air. “How am I supposed to do that? I’ve just learned that I’ve been injecting a drug synthesized from stolen spinal fluid into innocent children. I’m hurting my own race. Em, do you recognize this isn’t a situation I’m able to cope with? We were supposed to leave and now you wa—”
I wave my hands, desperate to stop him from screaming. Quiet him before he attracts attention. In almost a whisper I say, “Parker, you’ve been giving injections for four years, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s why my family and I were recruited to the Valley.”
“This rebellion we’re working on will take maybe six months to a year. No longer. It’s not going to make much of a difference to these kids if you keep injecting them a little longer and if you do what I ask then you won’t be doing it for long at all. If you do what I say then you’ll be out of a job soon.”
His eyes, which were looking off without seeing, dart to mine. Relief breaks across his face. That’s not the expression most would have about being unemployed. “Go on,” he says.
“Nona has constructed an extremely thorough plan,” I begin.
“That’s Nona,” he says, nodding his head with pride.
“I know, she’s a mastermind. During injections you two can relay information. It will actually be perfect.”
He nods, agreeing at once.
“What I need you to do, Parker, is to search the labs. You have full access if you want it, right?”
“Yes, they didn’t question me when I was in the Middling extraction area today,” he says, and then shudders, his mind probably flashing on the babies he watched having the withdrawals. I shiver too, thinking of the unnecessary cruelty.
I unzip my jacket and Parker jumps. What does he think, I’m about to pull out a gun? He’s really on edge. I hold up a steadying hand. “It’s all right. I’m only getting these.” I slip the drawings of
the maps out of my jacket. “These are blueprints of the labs. Mostly accurate, but feel free to fill them in where they’re wrong. I have them labeled by department and floor.”
He squints down at the first one and then realizing he can’t see a thing looks back up at me.
“What I need you to do is to find out where all the Defect formula for injections is stored.”
“Cerevitium,” Parker interrupts.
“What?” I ask in confusion.
“That’s what the drug is that we give to Defects.”
“Rebels,” I correct.
He nods. “Yes, Rebels.”
“Cerevitium,” I say to myself. “Why didn’t I know that was the name of the drug until now?”
“We aren’t supposed to call it by name,” Parker says with an unsure shrug. “Injections is what they’re supposed to be called.”
“Right.” Another small but effective way to deflect attention from the brainwashing program.
“Okay,” I continue, “I need the locations and quantity of all cerevitium in the labs. There’s a supply in your office, of course. And then there will be a supply in the other doctors’ offices. I want counts on all of them. I want to know exactly how many vials there are in every single office. And then there has to be a back storage. There might be a few places where they keep cerevitium. And there will also be some located in the synthesizing department.” I take a step closer to Parker so I can read his expression more clearly. “Do you understand what I’m asking you to do?”
“Yes. You need me to note the locations and quantity of all of the cerevitium in the labs on these maps,” he says, nodding his head. “And I can do it. This might take some time though.”
“Well, we have the time, but the longer it takes you, the longer you’ll have to inject innocent children.”
“Fine, I’ll get it done. First, though, I want to know why you need all this information.”
I tuck my chin down low, flick my eyes up to Parker’s. “Because we’re going to destroy the cerevitium used to inject Defects. All of it.”
Chapter Fourteen
From the way his shoulders are slumped and head hanging between his legs, I know Rogue has suffered from another headache while I was gone. He’s seated by a nearly burned out campfire, his elbows on his knees, his black curls down in front of his face. At the sound of my approach he flips his head up, straightens, slides his hair back.
“Hey, babe,” he says, his voice raspy, tired. His eyes are outlined in red. But he somehow forces his mouth into a crooked smile. “Glad you’re back. I was worried—”
“You’ve had another headache, haven’t you?” My tone is convicting, like he’s done something wrong by having this headache.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t bad.”
They’re all bad. Excruciating pain, making the strongest person I’ve ever known cry out from the torture. I take the spot in front of him, sitting on my knees. “Why won’t you let me help you? Why are you choosing to suffer? I don’t understand.”
He scoots in closer to me, his long legs on either side. “Oh, no you don’t,” Rogue says. “You promised to just love me. No harassing me. This is my decision. I get how frustrating this is for you, that you don’t understand my reasons, but one day you will.” He slides his hands around my waist and tugs me forward, until I’m right up against him. “One day you’re gonna look at me and totally get this and praise me for being so damn brilliant.”
I laugh into his chest, releasing some of the stress in my heart.
“Don’t you laugh,” he says, with mock offense and a growl. “It’s true. You’re gonna be damn glad I planned things out like I did.”
And although he’s joking, his words give me pause. I push back and stare into his eyes, which I can barely catch the green of from the fire light behind me. “What does that mean, Rogue? Have you seen something in one of those premonitions you get after a headache?” The only benefit to the headaches is afterwards Rogue is gifted with several abilities. They’re always different and not always useful, but many times he’s seen flashes of the future, like when we broke into the labs.
He shakes his head, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and stares at me with an inspiring reverie. “Don’t you worry your beautiful head, Em. I’m simply asking for you to trust me. I’ve got an instinct on this and I know that the only thing that will help me is being with you, so give me that. No more arguing. No more running off. Let’s just enjoy each other. And on the side, let’s create a rebellion. What do you say?”
He’s smiling at me, but I sense his nervousness. Rogue knows I have every right to argue with him on this. Fears I might. His eyes shift between mine. The ache in my chest grows moment by moment as I take in every detail about him, his olive skin, angled jaw, and subtle smile.
“Rogue…” I say, lacking all the anger I wanted to inject into my voice and mostly sounding defeated.
“Yes, babe,” he says, batting his impossibly long eyelashes at me in a play of affection.
“Oh, stop it,” I say, slapping his arm. He catches my hand at lightning speed and redirects it to his heart. Presses it there.
Under the material of his shirt I feel his warmth, the pulsing of his heart. To feel him. To know how much he loves me. And then to also have to bear the weight of the pain he suffers. I don’t mean to but a small sob hiccups out of my chest. And then a single tear springs to my eye and slides down my cheek.
He yanks me ever so gently into him, pressing his lips to mine. “No more tears, Em,” he says in between each time our lips meet. One of his hands slides up the side of my throat, the other snakes all the way around my waist, pinning me to him. My own hands have already found his hair, his shoulders, his chest. Again and again I kiss him, and succumb to what he wants. It hurts not to be able to advocate for Rogue, but if I truly love him then I have to believe in his instinct. It’s carried him this far, into my arms. I smile against his mouth and kiss him once more before putting a few inches between us.
“Okay,” I say.
“Thank you, Em. Everything is gonna work out.”
I nod, wanting to believe him, making myself.
He smiles back at me. “And I fear you think I’m hiding something from you. I’m telling you everything that’s important enough for you to know. I would never keep something from you if you really needed to know it.”
And although he isn’t making reference to my own situation, guilt grips my heart and twists. I suck in a breath and sit back on my heels. “Rogue, I want to get away with you. Will you meet me somewhere tonight?”
He angles his head at me sideways, obviously a little disoriented by the out of the blue request. “Of course I will. Always.”
Wind dances through the pine trees overhead, making the needles rustle with gentle music. I lean in and pause two inches from Rogue. It feels incredibly perfect to be this close to him after the last few days. And by his small muffled laughter, I suspect he feels the same way. Finally, I angle my mouth next to his ear and whisper the location.
When I withdraw, he winks in confirmation. “Off to bed, then,” Rogue says and stands too fast, holding out a hand for me.
Chapter Fifteen
I close my eyes and within seconds I’m spiraling through the silver tunnel like a roller coaster. My consciousness makes a series of turns before I’m spit out to the exact location I intended. The waves, some six hundred feet down, beat against the rock. It takes me a bit to find the right spot to sit, but I finally decide on a flat stone. The sun is starting to tuck down on the horizon. I face out to the vastness of the Pacific. From my place perched high I feel like a goddess who was chosen to rule over our people. To know truths that have been hidden from them. To see things they can’t. But all I want for them is to know how they’re being controlled and restricted. Abused. I don’t want to rule alone. I want the Reverians to stand on Morro Rock along with me. Maybe not all at once, since there’s not room for all of us on this piece of land. But I wan
t my people to dream travel freely, to see the world, as I have.
I feel Rogue’s presence before I see him. It’s an inviting one and my arms are around him before his body even registers in this dimension.
He smiles as my gentle pressure greets him immediately. “Well, I see there’s no hiding from you anymore,” he says.
“Nope, I’m tuned in to you.”
“That you are,” he says, sliding in close to me, his focus on the sunset, which is morphing into a brighter array of colors every second. “Good thinking about time traveling back to catch the sunset.”
“Thanks,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder.
“And not a bad location either. Hadn’t thought of this one.”
“Well, what’s the point in being a Dream Traveler if we can’t go to forbidden places,” I say, angling my chin up to his gaze and giving a defiant look.
“Right you are,” he says.
Morro Rock has been protected as a state preserve since the 1960s. Now no one can climb the structure, which sits just off Morro Bay in California. But as Dream Travelers we don’t have to worry about being caught. And we didn’t have to climb to get up to this primo place to view the sunset; all we had to do was close our eyes and use the talents given to us by the gods.
The sun sets like gentle music, classically receding and every now and again echoing with a beat of colors and emotions. The pinks and oranges reflect off the placid waters of the Pacific. I wonder if it’s like this often, or if it’s merely a gift the gods are giving so Rogue and I can have the perfect scenery in this moment. And then I’m reminded of why I chose this place. Settings, I’ve learned, are important to every interaction. They create the mood, soothe it when necessary, and inspire. This is the reason people care about interior design so much. Before, I thought it was bogus, but now I realize that there’s something to be said about it. That’s why I felt most comfortable in Rogue’s home, a place thoughtfully arranged with love and beauty. A place that was inspired by his mother’s study.
