by Sarah Noffke
“Thanks for your help,” Rogue says, nodding his head at Ren, who scowls at him in return.
I turn at the door, remembering something. “Hey, do you recall when you asked me what my name was short for?”
“Barely,” Ren says, through a loud obnoxious yawn.
“Well, you thought it was unlikely that my mother would name me just Em.”
“That’s right. So you figured it out, did you?” he says, a clever, knowing grin on his face.
I step forward, angle my head to the side. “You know? You said you didn’t.”
“I figured it out after we spoke. Lyza has always believed in gods and symbolism.”
“What?” Rogue says at my side. “What are you talking about? Your name isn’t Em?”
I shake my head. “It’s Morta. I was named after the goddess of death. Tutu told me.”
Ren snickers, like this is funny. I whip around, heat rising in my head. “How dare you laugh? That’s the worst name I can ever think of giving a child and you’re laughing about it!”
He stops, but the smile on his face doesn’t fade. “I wasn’t laughing at the name your deranged mother gave you. I was laughing that she had somehow scored three girls, which made her plan work out beautifully, although the whole thing is completely bizarre.”
“What? What do my sisters have to do with any of this?”
Ren pushes up to a standing position, plucks a book off a stack that sits on the ground to the side of the furniture. He hands it to me, looking too amused right now. “You weren’t the only one named after a goddess.”
I angle my eyes down low. The book is entitled Metamorphoses and it’s by Ovid.
“You and your sisters were named after the Parcae, mythical embodiments of destiny from ancient Roman religion,” Ren says, and then motions to the book. “It will fill you in on where your mother got this weird inspiration. But something of interest is these goddesses spun the fate of the world.”
“What?” I say, looking from the book to Ren. “Why would she name us after them? What does all that mean?”
“Your mother’s always been a bit batty, so probably means nothing.” I nod and turn to leave. At my back Ren says, “Of course, she can also see the future, so wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t a great deal of significance to it all.”
I leave him with one last annoyed look, which he returns.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thunder rumbles overhead as we dart between shadows, moving faster than a motorcycle on the streets. We’re not even breathless when we arrive at Zack’s back door. I chance a look at Rogue. He stares down at me, strength in his eyes.
“Thanks for allowing me to leech you,” I say, standing up on my tiptoes, planting a kiss on his cheek. He whips his head around superfast and my kiss lands on his mouth. He sucks me in, magnetizing me to him with each stroke of his lips. Each of our kisses is one of relief that we accomplished so much today without being caught. And also that we are in this together, holding each other when the Valley around us is a mess of lies and treachery. I peel back from Rogue, but not easily. He follows my lips as they pull away. Unable to resist, I allow him to kiss me again and then a clap of thunder reigns from overhead. In unison we flip our heads up to the purplish sky, expecting to see drops fall any second.
“Better get you inside quick,” Rogue says, his hand on the door handle. “Hard to believe this will be the third place we’ve broken into today.”
“My fourth, actually,” I say as he steps through the door and pulls me in behind him. “Remember, I went into my old house.”
“That’s right,” Rogue says, searching the darkened kitchen.
“And I already broke into Zack’s house, so I’m not sure it counts.”
Rogue whips around. “You’ve already been here before?”
I nod. “You should have seen Zack’s face when I surprised him. He totally didn’t expect to see me. Probably thought I was a deranged murderer at first.”
“That’s my girl,” Rogue says with a proud smile.
“Thanks. I actually stayed here the first two nights.”
Rogue pauses at the door to the living room and turns back to me. He gives me a strange expression, then it shifts to a knowing smile. He peeks his head in through the swinging door and then turns back to me. “Living room is empty, but there’s a light in the next room. I bet that’s where Zack is.”
“It’s his study,” I say. “Is he alone?”
“He’s Zack,” Rogue says, like that says it all. “Of course he’s alone. He’s probably crafting the plan to take over the world right now.”
I giggle. “Probably.”
“All right, well, it’s my turn to scare him,” Rogue says and tugs me through the door. The living room is cast in darkness, but the light from the open study door provides enough to see. Rogue is beside me and then all of a sudden he disappears. Completely disappears. Zips so fast from me and into the study that my eyes don’t register the movement. And a second later there’s a muffled shriek, followed by laughter. I take my time making my way to the study. When I duck my head in, Zack is doubled over laughing in his office chair and Rogue stands beside him looking proud, a crooked smile plastered on his face. He winks at me. “Apparently, Zachariah didn’t know we were stopping by tonight.”
Zack’s face, which is both tight from laughing and red from the scare, flips up at me. He turns and looks at Rogue. “Seriously, never sneak up on me like that again.”
Rogue holds up his three fingers, all pressed tightly together. “Scouts honor, brother.”
“Don’t believe him,” I say, stepping further into the room. “Rogue’s made that promise to me too and he still sneaks up on me all the time.”
He grabs my hand and tugs me to his side. “That’s ’cause I know you like it.”
I smile at the Oriental rug under our feet. Blush. He’s right, I love when I don’t know he’s anywhere around and then all of a sudden he’s right up against me. His agility is beautiful and alluring.
Zack pushes back from his desk, regards us with a quiet concern, and then picks up the papers he must have thrown into the air when Rogue scared him half to death. “So you two have been pushing the limits, sneaking around town, I see.” There’s a good bit of disapproval in his tone.
I study the office, which is beautiful with its oak walls and leather furniture. It totally reminds me of Zack, with its utilitarian quality. His small writing desk is centered along the shortest wall, making it so his back faces the window. I’m sure he never wants to be distracted by the sunlight and trees in his modest backyard.
“We’ve learned a great deal today actually,” I say, my voice sounding defensive.
Zack nods, a strange interest in his eyes, which are low, distracted. I follow them to where they stare. At my finger laced into Rogue’s belt loop. I slide my hands back to my side. “Can I raid your refrigerator? Then we can fill you in on what we learned.”
He nods again, his eyes now on the ground. I make for the kitchen at once, unable to bear the stressed look on Zack’s face.
“Good thinking, Em,” Rogue says, trailing behind me. “I forgot about that eating thing.”
“It’s easy to do that as Rebels,” I say, winking at him over my shoulder.
I toss the book Ren gave me on the coffee table on my way into the kitchen. My stomach is now rumbling furiously. I yank open Zack’s refrigerator to find it completely bare. Nothing. Not a jug of milk or even a few condiments. All clean shelves sparkle back at me.
I close the door and turn to Zack. “You could have told me I wouldn’t find anything in there,” I say, pointing to the empty refrigerator. “What exactly do you eat?”
He slides his hands into his pockets and drops his eyes. He doesn’t. That’s the answer he won’t supply. Zack probably just eats lunch and that’s only because it’s a part of a meeting or something.
“There should be something in the pantry,” he says, all life gone in his voice.
“I think my mother stocked it in case I got hungry.”
“Yes, hungry,” I say, trying to sound playful, trying to loosen him up. “You realize humans get hungry, right? Careful or I’m going to think you’re a vampire.”
His eyes flick to mine, no humor in them.
“What’s with you?” I say to Zack, sensing something terrible weighing on him right now, something more than usual.
“Nothing and just about everything,” he says, loosening a breath. He points at the cabinet. “Check in that one. There should be something to eat.”
I regard him for a long few seconds, which only seems to make him more stressed. Finally I turn and open the cabinet and to my relief I find a bag of rice, a few cans of vegetables, and a nice assortment of spices. Relief falls out of my mouth with a sigh. “I can work with this.”
I start a pot of rice as Rogue begins filling Zack in on what we did from morning until now.
Zack doesn’t say anything, but too many times his worried eyes connect with mine as I move about his kitchen. His hands are pinned on the countertop, and often he grips it, making his knuckles go white. “He kidnapped children?” Zack repeats, his eyes large and tragic.
“Babies too,” I say, unable to look anywhere but at the pot of food in front of me. What we’ve learned today is too cruel to be a reality. And harder is that I must digest that it’s a reality I’m connected to.
“This man has to be stopped,” Zack says, pushing off the counter. He looks like he isn’t sleeping as well as not eating. His face is pale and skinnier than I remember. I bet he came straight home from the office and went back to work. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and his shirt is still tucked into his slacks.
“There’s more, man,” Rogue says, downing a glass of water and then refilling it from the faucet. “We’ve been able to determine some of my father’s mind controls, but now we need to actually find them.”
Rogue explains what we learned from Ren while I pile a pilaf of rice, beans, and vegetables onto three plates and hand them off. Zack takes the plate but stares between it and me with a great deal of skepticism.
“Just eat it,” I finally say. “I’m no Middling, but I can cook. Rogue taught me.”
“Oh, and she’s way better at it than me. I cook, but Em knows how to make food taste good,” Rogue says, taking a bite as he smiles at me.
“I’m sure you can,” Zack says, but pushes the plate away. “I’m simply not hungry. Work has me more stressed than usual. And while you two were learning all this today, I discovered something else of importance.”
I set my fork on my plate and pin my focus on Zack. “What?” I say, dread heavy in my voice.
He grips the side of the granite countertop again, angles his head at Rogue, who’s already finishing off his plate. “You said that your father uses multiple strategies for gaining control, right?”
Rogue nods.
“Well, I think I know one of the many he employs on Middlings. I need to research it more, but I’m fairly certain my instinct is correct.” Zack shakes his head. Pushes off the counter, staring at the tile floor. “And it’s so ridiculous that if we expose him for it, we’d look absurd. I’m sure he’s figured that out. That’s why we need other evidence. We need something concrete about these children he abducted for experiments,” he says.
“Of course, Zack,” I say, my patience suddenly wavering. “Just tell us what you learned,” I say and push my plate at Rogue, who’s been eyeing it.
“The Middling water supply…” Zack says and then pauses. “President Vider has been contaminating it with drugs. Somehow he’s had the water systems between their homes and ours segregated. He has them put a solution in the water that goes to Middling homes and from everything I can tell, it’s a drug which causes euphoria.”
“He drugs Middlings to make them happy?” Rogue says, shoving the plate back to the center of the island and taking the space next to me. “Yeah, we’d be crazy to expose him on this. What’s wrong with making people happy?”
“What’s wrong is that he makes them complacent so that they go along with anything he says.” Zack’s voice climbs with anger. “He takes their children’s spinal fluid, makes them work menial jobs, accept low pay, and live in less than acceptable dwellings because they’re happy. They don’t have the choice to complain because of it. But if they had their wits about them then don’t you think they’d rebel? Want more for their life? For their children?”
“Of course they would, but he’s blindfolded them to an extent,” I say.
“Exactly,” Zack says, finally bringing his heavy eyes to meet mine. They make me ache. He’s overburdening himself with all this. He looks suddenly older, suddenly too tired to want to be on this side of the rebellion.
“And you’re right, we can’t expose this,” I say, feeling Rogue’s warmth beside me. “It would look ridiculous. But what we can do is figure out how to break into the water treatment plant and stop this pollution. If Middlings aren’t drugged, then maybe we can break through the brainwashing. And if we take away the other subliminal messages at the same time then we might have a chance.”
Zack nods. “I’ll see what I can learn about the water treatment plant.” His eyes are pinned back down low.
“Damn, my father is a tricky son-of-a-bitch. He’s constructed his power with so many different arsenals that it’s difficult to attack him from only one angle. I guess I have to give it to him for being crafty,” Rogue says, sounding too light. The way he’s shouldered his father’s abuse has always dumbfounded me, but right now it makes me downright mesmerized by him. Rogue is a man who has chosen to dictate his path and not allow his power-crazed father any control over him. I love him more now than ever. Without realizing it my hands have already slid around his waist, my head tucked into his chest as he holds me into his side.
“So now we need to find the evidence on these other offenses,” Zack says, his voice sounding tight, mechanical.
I straighten slightly and stare up at Zack, who’s regarding the tile with great curiosity. “We’ll dream travel to the Government Center and search for evidence,” I volunteer.
Zack clenches his eyes together. “Fine.” He flips his head up and looks directly at me. “I want you to be care—”
His statement of caution is cut off by the ding-dong of his doorbell. We all freeze. Stare at each other. Suck in what could be a last breath.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Who could that be?” I ask, breaking the ten seconds of silence that follows the doorbell. Then it comes again, like a persistent ache in my throat.
Ding-dong.
“I have no idea,” Zack says, his face blank with astonishment.
“Well, go get the door,” I say, waving my hands at him.
He gives a slow nod. Turns, like a robot, and walks way too slowly out of the kitchen. I spin around to Rogue who’s actually giving me a sly smile.
“You’re so damn bossy,” he says, the flirty edge always present in his voice.
“Oh shush,” I say, lending him a punishing look.
The front door clicks when Zack opens it. “Oh, hey,” I hear him say from the other room. He sounds surprised. Nervous. Rushed.
Clink. Clank. Clink. Clank. Someone’s shoes reverberate across his bamboo wooden floor. A loud clap of thunder echoes overhead. My breath halts in my chest.
“I think I made it right before the storm broke,” Dee says, her nasally voice bringing an immediate grimace to my face.
“What are you doing here?” Zack asks from the other room, failing to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“What’s that mean? Aren’t you happy to see me?” she says, venom quick to rise in her voice.
“Yes, of course. It’s simply that I’m working and didn’t expect you.”
Click. Clack.
“Well,” she says, her tone softening, lengthening. “I hadn’t seen your new home yet, and thought tonight would be the perfect opportunity. Actually, I
was surprised you hadn’t invited me over already.”
Rogue watches me as we both listen to the exchange. He’s sharing my look of annoyance.
“I’ve been meaning to have you over, I’ve merely been too busy.”
“You know,” Dee says, her footsteps chirping across the wood as she takes a tour of the living room, “my mother didn’t think it was prudent that I come here tonight. That I be alone with you behind closed doors. She said it was a careless move that someone like Em would do, putting herself alone with men, not concerned for how it appears to the general public.”
I roll my eyes, ungrateful to still be my mother’s example of how not to behave.
“Your mother is very mindful in these situations, maybe she is right. I don’t want either of us to be judged dishonorably.”
“Oh, that’s so foolish,” Dee says, walking across the floor again, her voice drawing closer. “Soon it won’t matter what anyone thinks, will it? Once we’re official, that is.”
Zack coughs. Clears his throat. “Can I offer you a drink?” he says, avoiding her insinuation.
“What you can offer me is a tour. I’m anxious to see the whole house. I think if it all looks like this, then it’s definitely in need of my designer eye.”
“Sure, that’s fine,” Zack says, his words clipped. He takes a few steps, probably in Dee’s direction.
“Aren’t we going to start with the downstairs?” Dee asks, her voice failing to hide its excitement. “Why are you leading me to the second floor?”
“I think I’d rather start the tour with the bedrooms,” Zack says, and his tone doesn’t carry the provocative hint I think he wished to add for good measure.
“I like the way you think, Mr. Conerly,” Dee says, her voice growing faint as she moves away. The clatter of her heels halts. There’s a pause. “What is this book?” she asks.
Zack doesn’t answer.
“Metamorphoses,” she says carefully, reading the cover. “This is a strange old book. Not one from the approved library,” Dee says, her voice growing with curiosity. “Where did you get this?”
