by Sarah Noffke
I can’t muffle the laugh that bursts out of my mouth. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
She’s not laughing but rather staring at Zack with scrutinizing eyes.
His face drains of color as his eyes stay hinged on her. “It’s called acting, Nona,” he says in a sensitive voice. “Please know that I’m not enjoying a second of it. My loyalty is to the war. I hope you aren’t thinking otherwise.”
Her eyes narrow on him. “I might be…”
“Nona!” I screech, springing up from the sofa. “It’s Zack.”
She turns, giving me a pitying look, like I’m a naïve little child. “I think that used to mean something, but more and more I’m finding people who can’t be trusted in this rebellion. You think you know someone and then realize they’re a part of the conspiracy. What if he’s really working for them? What if Zack’s acting with us and the real gig is with Dee?”
“Nona, for one, you’re ridiculous to question Zack’s loyalty,” I say. “And secondly, you don’t announce your paranoia like this. You should have told me in private.”
I’m certain I’m wearing a look of pure horror. However, Zack smiles and shakes his head at me. “She’s right in both her line of thinking and her way of presenting it, Em.”
“What?” I say, spinning to face him.
“Almost everything we’ve known is a lie, why not question everyone’s loyalty, especially mine since I’m on both sides of the fence. And the perfect time to confront a traitor is when they’re not expecting it and you have witnesses.” He turns his attention on Nona. Softens. “But I’m not a traitor, Nona. I can imagine how my dealings with Dee appear but I’m only doing it to gain favoritism from Chief Fuller and I wouldn’t keep it up if it wasn’t working. Just today your father granted me access to the blueprints and security detail of the water treatment plant. He’s never released that project information to anyone in my position and rank before.”
Nona ties her arms across her chest and regards Zack under hooded eyes. “Really?” she says, still holding doubt in her voice.
“Really,” he says. “Having to endure Dee’s company every weekend isn’t a chore. It’s actually incredibly painful. If I look like I’m enjoying it then it’s only because I’m looking forward to winning this war and being rid of her and the evil politicians she idolizes.”
My gaze shifts between Nona and Zack. Finally I interrupt their stare-off. “Both of you are nuts. You, Nona, for thinking Zack is corrupt. And you, Zack, are nuts for agreeing that she should be doubting you.”
“Well, I think she has every right and reason,” he says, looking straight at me.
“Oh, then do you think I need to question your loyalty?” I ask.
He shakes his head at once. “No, you know me better than anyone alive. Nona doesn’t and therefore has the right motive.”
Alive. Does that mean that somehow Rogue knew Zack better than I do? Is that what that statement means? I shake off the statement and the frustration Nona’s confrontation created in me. “Well, speaking of the water treatment plant, where are we with that?”
Zack runs his hand along the side of his slicked back hair. “Like I said, I have access to everything we need. Plans. Security. Entry. Now we just need to draw up the strategy.”
“I think I’ve mostly got those together,” I say through an uncontrollable yawn.
“There’s something else though,” Zack says, a catch in his voice.
“What?” I say with sudden dread, reading the look on his face.
“Well, we can replace the drugs going into the water supply but that’s going to take a while to have an effect. The current supply will still be polluted,” he says.
“So?”
“So if we want rapid results then we need to do something to the stored supply to negate its effects,” Zack says.
“Hmm…” I say, looking at Nona. “Like a way to change its molecular structure and then return it to normal?”
“Yes, that would work,” Zack says, the idea making his face light up.
“Nona, looks like you’ll need to join me when I visit the water treatment plant,” I say, plopping back onto the couch.
“Aye aye, captain,” she says, saluting me.
“Now clean that up,” I say, pointing to the water that’s now slipped over the side of the table and is soaking the rug.
With a flick of her wrist all the water particles rise into the air and gather in a ball. Then like a waterfall it streams back into my glass, not a drop splashing out.
“Show-off,” I say with a grunt.
“I learned it from watching you, Ms. Electricity,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me.
Zack sits down on the couch next to me and regards the two of us with a curious interest.
“What?” I finally say.
“Well, I’ve been reading through that book Ren gave you about the Parcae,” he says.
“Metamorphoses?”
He nods.
“And?”
“Well, I’m just intrigued watching you two after learning your namesakes. The symbolism is fascinating and I’m not sure how your parents planned it since it would have been a crapshoot,” Zack says.
“Can you please stop talking like a politician and get to the point?” I say.
He nods. “There were three sisters known as the Parcae. They were considered responsible for creating the destiny of the world. Nona,” he says, nodding at her, “was the real name for the one who spun the thread of life.”
She smiles with great satisfaction. “I like where this is going.”
“Yes, I would say you’re the second most powerful in the trio.” He turns his attention on his hands as he speaks. “Dee was apparently named for Decima, who measured the length of someone’s life. And Em,” Zack says, flicking his eyes up to meet mine. “As you know, you were named for Morta, who decided how someone’s life ended.”
I scratch my head. “Why does this interest you so much and what the hell does it mean?”
“I think that your clairvoyant mother named you because she knew your roles,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to figure it out as he speaks. “But what is unclear is what your actual roles are related to. It’s all symbolic and something tells me it has to do with the Reverians and quite possibly this war.”
I lay my head back on the sofa, propping my feet next to Zack. “This hurts my brain,” I say, my eyes slipping closed at once.
“Mine too,” Nona agrees and I hear her strap on her backpack on. “I’m off for now,” she says, but I don’t watch her walk out, I just hear her exit from the recesses of my sleeping head.
Chapter Eight
I awake to find a soft crocheted blanket draped over me. It’s morning. I’m late.
I spring up off the sofa and bolt upstairs to get ready. Thankfully I’m efficient enough to shave some time off my routine and therefore put me back on schedule. When I rush downstairs Zack is reading the newspaper in the kitchen. I march up in front of him and halt. Unhurried, he lowers the paper and arches a curious eyebrow at me.
“You let me oversleep,” I say, an angry growl in my voice. “Do you know how cross Ren will be if I’m late again?”
He sighs and folds up the newspaper. “Em, you’re exhausted. I just allowed you to rest.”
“You shouldn’t let me oversleep again.”
“When did I become your alarm clock?” he says with an amused expression.
“Don’t try and fool me. You love schedules. It’s your natural role to keep us all on a timetable.”
“Great, that’s my job,” he says, irritation in his tone. “Meanwhile, you’re leading every project. Conversion, water treatment, subliminal, and soon Middling recruitment. You’re killing yourself with all this work and I don’t think I’m doing enough.”
“You are, though. You’re providing inside information. That’s critical,” I say.
He nods but it holds no conviction.
“And if it wa
sn’t for you I’d lose my mind,” I say, resigning my earlier frustration.
A ghost of a smile flicks to his pink lips.
“Okay, next time you know I have to get up, wake me up. Got it?” I say.
He nods again.
“I’ve got to run before Uncle Renny has a conniption fit.” I pause and regard Zack. He looks a little miserable still. I can sense the irritation simmering inside him. “Stop worrying,” I say and stand up on my tippy toes to straighten his blue and silver tie. “You’re doing enough.”
He’s wearing an embarrassed blush when I step back. “Get out of my head, would you?” Zack says.
I flash a proud grin at him. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I don’t,” he says.
“I’ll see you later,” I say, grabbing my coat and sprinting for the door.
***
After another strenuous but entirely successful shift at the conversion lab I sneak through the alleys to Parker’s house. He isn’t home yet but I let myself in, knowing he won’t mind. I spend almost as much time here as I do at the labs.
At first Parker was hesitant about his role in the rebellion. Then Rogue died and something shifted in the doctor. His reluctance morphed into a quiet anger, one that made him appear stronger somehow. Since Vider assumed I had the help of one of the lab personnel he had lie detector tests administered to everyone working there. Parker passed his test without a hint of trouble and this injected him with a bold confidence. Then once his parents knew the extent of his involvement with the rebellion, and to his relief supported him, he strode with a relaxed posture and spoke with a new degree of ease. Whereas a few months ago he always appeared overworked and stressed, now Parker was the casual doctor with an easygoing disposition. This was probably due to the fact that he hadn’t given a single injection in three months. He’d been able to disclose the truth to all of his patients and have them keep it confidential.
Just like the Defects I saved from conversion, his patients acted the part and all of them, like Nona, had their gifts. Now Parker just had to empty out unused vials of cerevitium into the sink all day while chatting with his patients. Nona and he used this time to strategize and share information but I hadn’t authorized for any other Defects to be brought into the war effort. There would be time for that later. Now was the time for reconnaissance and planning.
Parking myself at the dining room table, I go to work studying the notebook Nona left me. I highlight the major places where she found subliminal messages. The ones that will be easy to destroy. After an hour of working, my eyes trail off until I realize they’re looking without seeing. My eyes are resting on a portrait of Parker’s father that hangs over the fireplace. Young-chol was much younger in the painting. And he died in the chair that sits beside the gas fireplace. He’s not the only man who died in this house. But he’s the only one who haunts it.
A month after Rogue’s death I recruited my tutu for a job I knew only she could do. It was late evening when she rapped at Parker’s door. Being the only one there I let her in, motioning her inside, my presence hidden behind the stained glass door.
“Child,” she said, drawing out the word, “Nona told me what you mean for me to do and I have certain hesitations I wish to voice first.” She leaned on her raccoon-headed cane, looking winded from the long walk here. I hadn’t seen her for several weeks and her clothes seemed to hang off her more than I remembered, but her clothes, like her, are old.
“I knew you’d have hesitations and would want to give me warnings first,” I said. “But save your breath because I’ve thought this through and I need to do it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“He can’t come back,” she said plainly.
“I know.”
“And you can’t ask him to stay.”
“I know,” I repeated.
“And you can’t stay with him here.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want to hear any sappy talk between you two,” she said.
“I knew you wouldn’t.”
“Well then…”
“You’ll let me leech you so I can see Rogue’s ghost?”
She sighed. “Of course, child. If you think it will help your pain.”
“It will. It will.” I grabbed her hand and tugged her down the narrow hallway. “Walk carefully on these floors,” I warned her. “Soon-hee polishes them every day. I think she’s trying to make me break a leg.”
“Or she’s just trying to keep busy after her husband’s passing,” Tutu said.
“How’d you know about that?” It had only happened a few days before and the family had kept it quiet with only a small service.
“Young-chol’s ghost is hanging out in the living room right now,” she said. “I never knew him. His son, Dr. Parker, has his eyes, they’re full of soul.”
I nodded, having seen the similarity. “So Young-chol is here?”
“Yes, he’s waiting for Soon-hee. He’s worried for his son. The war makes him nervous for his family,” Tutu reported. That was a lot of information to receive inside of only a minute, but she said once that ghosts like to tell their stories to her since she is one of the few who can see them.
“Oh,” I said and a nervous hum started vibrating in my chest. Arriving at Parker’s bedroom, I pushed the door open. I leeched Tutu’s gift of seeing the dead and expected for Rogue’s strong and handsome image to appear before me. I had my words prepared. Already saw myself rushing toward him until I felt the icy chill of his apparition.
In front of me stood the bed where he died. A dresser and a chair. Nothing else. No one. I searched the modest room and then revolved my confused gaze to Tutu. “Why can’t I leech you? Where is he? Why can’t I see him? What is he saying?” I asked in a rush.
A tender smile quirked up the corners of her lips, wrinkles splaying out around them. “You are leeching me, but he’s not here, sweet child.”
“What?” I stepped out of the room, scanning the hallway at once. Not seeing anything I stepped back next to Tutu. “Where is he?”
“He doesn’t haunt, Em. He’s moved on from here.”
“No,” I said, my heart deflating like a balloon, disappointment rushing around inside my chest.
“Only spirits that have unfinished business stick around,” Tutu said. “Rogue must have been done. Moved over willingly. You made him happy. Gave him what he needed in this life.”
“So I’ll never see him again?” A seemingly unending ache ripped through my chest, creating a bottomless ravine in my heart.
“Who knows? Who knows where we go after this? I’m certain no one does.”
“But Parker’s father haunts because he’s worried for his family. Wants to wait for them,” I said, childishly feeling slighted.
“Well, by that logic I think it’s safe to believe Rogue wasn’t worried for you,” Tutu said, her matter-of-fact tone making it worse. I wanted her to console me. To tell me I was right to feel wronged. But the last person to give me unnecessary sympathy would be Tutu. She always said the fastest way to heal is to bypass the drama and head straight for the solution.
“But I’m leading a war,” I argued. “And why isn’t he waiting for me like Young-chol is waiting for Soon-hee?”
An expression so wise and full of secrets whisked across her face. I knew then she wasn’t going to tell me exactly what she thought, only the portion she thought I’d hear. “Oh, Em, I don’t have the answers to all your questions. Every spirit, like every human, makes decisions based on the information they are blessed with. Rogue made the decision to move on. It meant he was happy, done. And knew he didn’t need to stay around to protect you. And he’s not waiting around for you for his own reasons. I knew little of Rogue Vider, but what I did know of him I could tell he was a man with a certain knowing. If he left then he had good reason.”
***
The front door slams shut, bringing my attention back to the present mome
nt and out of the past, where I’ve spent too many months reflecting lately. I’m not living in the past anymore. It doesn’t serve me.
“Hi,” I squeak out, my voice strained from making speeches all day.
Parker stands by the door, looking unsurprised by finding me in his house. He’s holding a paper sack in one hand and in his other a crumpled tie. He slings the tie on the stairs as he saunters over to the table where I sit.
“Hungry?” he asks, holding up the bag. “I ordered double curry thinking you might be lurking in my house.”
My stomach rumbles as soon as the aroma of Thai curry hits my nose. “I’m starving actually,” I say. “And I’m lurking here because I needed to discuss the drug you’re crafting to replace the one currently being put into the water supply.”
For at least a decade Vider has been putting a happy pill in the Middling water supply. It’s why they all are euphoric and complacent even though they live in squalor and work too many hours in menial jobs they don’t choose. It’s this drug that we have to replace with a sugar pill. Something that has no effect on them. The drug has to look exactly the same as the current one so Vider doesn’t realize what we’re doing. And that job has been assigned to Parker.
“Yep, I’ve got you covered,” he says, dropping the bag on the table and then casually leaning on the back of the chair. “This is something I vote we discuss over dinner.”
Chapter Nine
With my stomach full of curry and vegetables, I’m content to sit at the table and keep chatting with Parker. Since he had already synthesized the new drug we needed for the water treatment plant, we were able to discuss less threatening conversations over dinner. I relate how his mother took straight to the farm and my bed. He laughs easily, nodding his head. His brown eyes sparkle behind his glasses. The doctor seemed to have inherited his mother’s spark and his father’s thoughtful manner. We chat easily for over an hour and it’s during a conversation regarding how different his life is here versus in San Francisco, where he grew up, that I realize I haven’t had a relaxed conversation in months. Everything has been about the war. About surviving Vider’s attacks. About infiltrating his administration.
