by L. L. Crane
I needed to get going. I just didn’t know how.
It would have been so much easier if I could just go back, take the Shot after my shift at the Clinic and let the medicine do its work. Abort the fetus. I wasn’t far enough along for anyone to notice. I could go on with my studies, become a researcher to find a cure for S.L.A.G. I could continue working with the Spectrum Reds at the Clinic, find the three S.L.A.G. sibs that I had just found out about…
But it was Snow’s face. Always Snow. He was supposed to be born with S.L.A.G., yet he was perfect. Smart, normal. It was Ice who had the autistic gene, not Snow. And the Administration had taken Ice away, making Snow a LAST. Technically, Ice was a LAST, too. They were some of the last wave of babies conceived naturally. It was the Administration’s way of wiping out S.L.A.G. Or just another way to control us all, turn us into mindless zombies.
I held my spinning stomach, knowing the alcohol would be bad for the fetus inside of me. Yet aborting it wouldn’t be so good on it, either.
My head was bubbling, waving, twisting in confusion. I had made a plan, but sticking to it was proving to be difficult. Stage one. I had removed the tracker-timer from my arm. I stared at my bandaged arm, then, and laughed out loud, not the crazy drunken laughter like before, but bitter, grown up laughter. Sarcastic. Angry. Bitter.
There was no going back. The tracker-timer was removed. What would I tell them if I went back, anyway? That it accidentally fell out? I pushed myself up groggily, lifted the bloody tracker-timer in my right hand and threw it full force onto the vomit filled floor, watching in fascination as my blood and vomit mixed into a pink and red soup, a tiny machine spicing it up. I twisted my body so I was sitting up and stomped down as hard as I could on it with my shoe, crushing it into several pieces as the bloody vomit splashed against the windows of the glider, onto my uniform – a rainstorm of Rain’s insides.
It felt satisfyingly good, like stretching out with your friends on a warm day. Eating something besides Administration regulated food. Drinking champagne instead of nutrient water.
I heaved a great breath, the tracker-timer destroyed. I was thirsty, and it felt like my mouth was full of cotton. I dug in my satchel, found a bottle of nutrient water and tipped it back, the sweet water soothing my parched mouth and throat.
Then I reached for the button to open the glider window, replaying that night with Orion over and over in my mind, a pitiful song that was stuck in my head. If I could rewind time, go back and change a thing, would I?
No. That night with Orion was held somewhere precious inside of me, a memory that could never be taken away, a soldier standing sentry to my bruised heart. I sniffed the stale, vomit infused air, my mind starting to clear.
I shook my head back and forth, pulled myself up into a sitting position, as the glider shields opened with a whir. The fumes from the garage hit me in the face, a slap of smoggy province air. I glanced around, hoping that nobody was watching. Thankfully, the garage was empty. Everyone was gone, working their Administration directed jobs. I spewed out a dose of hot, stinky breath, then laughed out loud.
The paranoia had lifted. I was nobody. Just one kid missing from school. It would take them a while to piece it all together, especially now that I had destroyed the tracker-timer, their only way to trace me.
I gulped, then, a touch of the paranoia returning. I was somebody. I was Moon’s daughter. High born, my number so low that I was almost royalty in Province A. Still, I had never let it get to my head. I had left my mother’s apartment and gone to live with Dove and my Dad, but would my mom let it go? Let me go without a fuss? I doubted it.
Reaching for my satchel, I thought about the plan I had so carefully formed in my bedroom that night, how it all came to be.
Gods, I hoped it would work. Because if it didn’t, I knew that losing the baby would be the least of my worries.
Chapter 3
Vanishing
I had gone to my bedroom to study that last night, after kissing Snow and the toddlers. All I could think about was the scheduled shot the following day, how I was pregnant and I had less than twenty-four hours to figure it all out.
Dove and my dad were watching a vid on the big screen in our elaborate apartment. I told them I would be studying, and they both just nodded at me, snuggled up together on the couch as if they were one unit. I wondered if I would ever find someone to love…someone to love me like that. I shot them a smile, etching the image of them in my mind. I knew what I was about to do would break their hearts.
When I got to my room, I held my stomach, somehow feeling the life inside of it, knowing it was there. I had already been researching Province K for my Fast Track Geography project, and without thinking I switched from Province K to Province A’s sewer map system. A stream of lines, some diagonal, but most formed in right angles had popped onto the screen. I knew that I had to copy the map somehow if I was going to make it to the Asters. As I stared at the conglomeration of lines, I wondered when it had become the Asters instead of Province K…who started calling it that.
My pulse was clipping along at a rapid pace, and when I looked down, I could see my heartbeat in my veins, so close to my tracker-timer that my heart sped up. Could I really follow through with this crazy plan? Remove it like some back wood doctor of times past?
I heaved a giant breath. I needed to do a lot of things, and I didn’t want Dove or my dad to know. Biting on my lower lip, thoughts traveled at light speed through my brain. I would need something to write with. And some paper. But where would I get such things? Everybody wrote on tablets, talked through ear communicators.
I hadn’t been living with Dove and my dad for long, but I knew Dove kept wrapping paper in the hall closet for the parties she gave Snow and the toddlers. That would have to do. I could figure out something to write with, knowing there weren’t many ancient writing instruments left in the Provinces.
I stared down at my tracker-timer, flashing the time and date at me. It had to go, or I would definitely be caught. The Administration would trace me, track me down like the fugitive I was planning to be, as long as it was implanted on my forearm. The thought of it made my head spin. Any medical procedure gave me the willies, and I would often just pass out. Could I actually cut the damn thing out of my arm?
A knife would work. But where would I get a knife? Our food was delivered already cut up and in perfect nutrient sized bites. Maybe Ivy could get me one. I thought about my bold friend. She could be trusted, but if I showed up at Citizen School, it would ruin everything. Still, I might have to take a chance with her.
I waited on my bed, studying Province K until the apartment became silent. Then I crept out of my bedroom, padding softly on the luxurious carpet and quietly opening the hall closet door. It wasn’t mechanized like most of the doors in the apartment, and the hinges squeaked as the door slowly slid open.
Shelves were organized with toys, blankets, old clothes, my dad’s designing tools. I eyed an instrument. It would do. Stuffing it in my pajamas pocket, I continued to scan the other shelves. Frustrated, I sighed. There was no paper to be seen, and tears threatened to pour out of my eyes. I had less than twelve hours before they would kill this baby. I pursed my lips, turning to go.
“Rain, what are you doing?”
It was Dove. Gods, how I loved her. After all she had done for me, I was just going to leave her, leave Snow and Sun and Storm and my dad. For what? To save a baby who would most likely be born with S.L.A.G. It didn’t seem too logical at that moment.
“Ummm,” I hesitated. Dove’s blonde hair was tied up in a knot and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. I glanced into her chocolate brown eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s Halo’s birthday tomorrow. I…I thought that you might have some wrapping paper.”
“Silly girl.” Dove hugged me to her, and the sweetest perfume wafted up to my nostrils. I felt like the worst traitor, even worse than my real mom. “I have tons of it. Right here.”
Dove pulled down a box full of paper a
nd bows. I peered into the box, the hall light barely casting shadows over its insides. To my delight, an old calligraphy pen and some blank cards were tucked neatly in the box.
“What did you get her?” Dove asked. Oh, no. More lies.
I faltered for a minute, thinking of the antique broken heart necklace that Orion had given me. The one with a K etched on the back of it. He had a matching one, and when you put them together the heart was complete. For a few hours I was on top of the world over that. Until he up and disappeared.
“It’s a best friend necklace,” I told Dove, looking away from her scrutinizing eyes. The hall light was dim, and I was hoping she wouldn’t notice anything was amiss.
“How sweet,” she smiled. “When I was a kid I had a best friend, and we did the same thing. One heart matches the other, right?”
“Yeah,” I answered, tamping down a tremendous dose of guilt. My real mother could always tell when I was lying, but Dove trusted me.
“Where did you get it?” I knew Dove wasn’t prying. She was genuinely interested in my life.
“At an antique store on Broadway,” I lied. Part of me wanted to just spill the beans to Dove, to let her take over and make everything turn out fine. Like she did when I had been incarcerated.
I pursed my lips. No. This had to be something I did alone.
“Okay,” Dove whispered, placing her hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Get some sleep, sweetie.”
“Thanks, Dove. I will.”
I watched her small, slender figure disappear into her bedroom where she would lie next to my dad. The man she loved.
At one point I thought I had that. With Orion. He had asked me to be his marriage partner. Right before he disappeared without even saying good-bye.
I stared at the closed bedroom door, knowing I would never have the love they had. My heart was tattered, shredded into pieces, and I knew I could never love anyone again. Not like I loved Orion. I let out a frustrated breath.
Maybe I just thought I had loved Orion. Loving someone didn’t mean you would just up and leave that person. For weeks my mind and my heart had been playing a cruel game of tic-tac-toe, and I never came out the winner. There was never a clean, straight line with all of the answers. It was better before I figured out I was pregnant. I could pull it together, try to forget about Orion and go on with my friends and my studies…my family. But this baby…it changed everything.
I had made a decision in a matter of seconds, and it staked a claim on me, dancing murderously over the skeleton of my body, the beating pulse of my heart.
I knew then, more than ever, that I had to vanish.
Chapter 4
Tools
I carried the box to my room, setting it on my pink bedspread. There were all kinds of colored paper in the box; reds, blues, yellows, polka dots, stripes. Carnival animals. Clowns. Balloons. Ocean creatures and bubbles.
I wasn’t particularly interested in the front of the paper. It was the back that I needed.
I found a large square with blue dolphins swimming in the ocean on the front. The back side was completely blank.
I turned my tablet back on and found the map of the ancient sewer routes that started underneath Province A. I opened the cap to the calligraphy pen and meticulously copied the angled route that wound underneath it, snakes that connected with solid lines. The route led in perfect alphabetical order until it stopped at Province J, the last surviving Province. Orion’s Province.
I sighed. I truthfully thought I was over him. My family had seemed to fill in the void. But once again, I had to wonder. He cascaded into my mind like a moving carnival ride, his face spinning at every turn I took. Why couldn’t he just leave me be? I had enough on my plate, what with trying to get the tracker-timer out, find a place to stay, and keep the Administration from aborting my baby. His baby. Our baby.
I smacked my thoughts down. I didn’t have time to think about a boy who would just leave without a trace. I continued with my project, sticking my tongue out of the corner of my mouth as I concentrated. My map complete, I folded it neatly and began putting the paper back into the box. I was on my last piece when something sharp pinched my fingers.
I pulled out the shiny, metallic object, smiling with satisfaction.
Scissors. I snatched them up and tossed them into my small satchel, the very one I carried with me when I first came to Dad and Dove’s apartment to live. I stuffed my map on top of them and then threw some uniforms on top. I thought about taking some real clothes, but it didn’t make sense to me, just packing my regulation uniforms for school. Where I was going, the fashionable clothes and accessories that Dove bought for me would probably be useless.
I remembered that day with Dove, when I had my make-up done, new clothes fitted for me, and my hair styled by Sergio, the S.L.A.G. they secretly harbored. Garment had pointed to a purple chair and told me to take a drink. I chose a small bottle of champagne, and my head became all fizzy and bubbly. Dove warned me to stop or I would get a headache.
Remembering the champagne gave me an idea. Champagne, I thought. Lots of champagne. That would work. I had the scissors. Now all I needed was something to kill the pain.
I roamed out into the kitchen as silently as I dared. Adults were allowed a certain amount of alcohol by the Administration, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing my dad or Dove drinking any, so maybe they didn’t have a well-stocked liquor cabinet like my mother did. I cringed when I thought of her, shoving her easily on a back shelf in my mind. I had too many other things to think about besides her.
Then guilt slipped in again, the color of blood. It didn’t so much have a feeling, but an emptiness about it, circling around me like one of Snow’s flying toys. Guilt at leaving Dove. My dad. Snow and the toddlers. My friends.
I closed the satchel tightly, letting out a huge puff of air. I held my hand to my stomach, to the invisible creature whose fate I held precariously in my hands. Could I love it, be a mother to it? I didn’t know the answer to those questions. I only knew one thing. It deserved to live.
Chapter 5
Liquid
Dove had always been in charge of meals, punching them into the dispenser after we stood on the weight reader. Then we would sit at the huge table as a family. There was always lively conversation, a toddler tossing food somewhere, usually vegetables, and the noise of normal family life. I was so happy to be there that I never had purpose to snoop through the kitchen cupboards. But that was what I found myself doing, keeping the lights on dim. What would I tell Dove if she found me in the kitchen? One lie was bad enough, but could I come up with a logical reason for stealing alcohol?
Still, settling my shoulders back with thick determination, I snuck into the kitchen like a common thief pilfering booze.
I snickered in my head. If I was caught on camera, my mom would have every reason to prosecute me like she did before. I furtively opened cupboard door after cupboard door. Nothing. I sighed, already exasperated with my plan. I wanted to give up, to go in and just wake Dove and my dad, let them know what a pickle I was in. But the Administration’s mandates loomed heavily before me. They had taken enough from me. They were not taking this baby.
I turned to leave, heading back to my bedroom. I would just have to forget about numbing the pain. The thought sent chills up my spine. Blowing out a puff of frustrated air, a small cart in the corner of the kitchen caught my eye. I had never really noticed it before. It was crafted of delicate wood, probably maple, and it appeared to be an antique. My eyes moved through the darkness, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed it before. It was exquisite, ornately carved and polished to a shine. But better yet, perched on the cart was a lavish crystal decanter, filled with amber liquid.
I raced toward it and lifted the stopper off of the decanter, sniffing the contents. I stifled back a gag as the sting of sharp alcohol bit my nose. The smell reminded me of my mom’s scotch, only stronger. Perfect. I snapped the lid back on the decanter and snuck back to
the kitchen, hoping the cameras wouldn’t pick up my movement. I searched the kitchen cabinets for a container. Quietly opening the cupboard doors, I found several of the toddler’s sippy cups. I went back to the decanter and emptied the strong liquid into one of them, a blue one that was Storm’s favorite, and another stabbing guilt prickled into my gut. I was actually stealing from a toddler, sinking to the all-time lowest point in life. My heart pounded as I drizzled the strong liquid into the sippy cups, figuring that I probably wouldn’t need much because the only liquor I had ever consumed was a small bottle of champagne. Still, it made sense to err on the cautious side, making sure I had more than enough.
I clamped the lids down tightly and tiptoed quietly back to my bedroom with them. I stuffed the plastic cups into my satchel. I had one more thing to do. Find a first aid kit.
With toddlers in the apartment, that was the easy part. I stopped at the main bathroom and dug around until I found the kit that Dove always got out when Sun or Storm had a boo-boo. I stuffed it under my shirt and snuck back to my bedroom. It was the last item I placed in my satchel.
I slipped into bed and pulled the covers over my body, wishing more than anything that sleep would come easily.
It didn’t. I tossed and turned all night, my eyes closed in pretend sleep until the alarm clock rang at 6:30. I yawned and stretched as if it was any other day, glancing at the camera in my room, remembering the one at my mom’s apartment. I stifled back a laugh when I thought of what I had done to that one. But this time I was sad to be leaving, not angry. My chest squeezed tightly shut, and I wasn’t sure if I could follow through with my plan.
Still, I got up, showered, and tucked myself into a school regulation uniform. I ate breakfast.
I said good-bye.
I said good-bye.
