by D. K. Dailey
“What time is it?” I ask.
“8:38.”
“They’re eating dinner.”
“How do you know? They have the privacy setting on.” She rises on her toes for a better view.
“My family sticks to a strict schedule.” I close my eyes for a moment, recalling what dinnertime meant. Our quality time, a break from our busy days.
“How are we going to get in? Houses like these have unbreakable security systems.”
She’s right, but I’m not worried. “My dad makes these systems. He taught me how to break into them among other things. Plus, this is my house.”
She bites her bottom lip. “They’ve probably changed the system since you left.”
“Only for a little while, I’m positive, to look like they were following procedures. My mother wouldn’t change my code permanently. That’d be like admitting I’ll never come home.”
“You act as if they want you home.”
Sorrow surges in my eyes. Her words sting. The idea that my family wouldn’t want me back after being arrested for treason burns bad.
She breaks eye contact with me. “This doesn’t feel right. Seems like a setup. I mean, think about it. Why wouldn’t they have surveillance on the house? It’s too quiet. If they know you’re alive, wouldn’t they assume you’d come back someday? People return to familiar places or people. Human nature. Pike has to be wrong about this.”
“He said we were clear. It’s why he waited so long. He couldn’t let us go unless it was safe—unmonitored.” I sigh. “And I actually…believe him.”
“I guess.” She shrugs.
“So, we wait until everyone except for my dad is asleep. He’ll be in his office doing work. He’s always up late.” I ignore her unwelcome opinions.
She reaches for my arm, forcing me to look at her. Through the hoodie, I can’t feel the lightness of her touch, and I am glad for it. She’s proving to be my greatest distraction.
Her hazel gaze traps me. I’ve never seen her eyes in the moonlight. A starburst of color in the middle of her irises, like a blooming sunflower, makes her gaze look soft for once. Like she cares. She moves her hand from my arm. “You’re supposed to be going to them for answers and help, but I’m not positive they can provide either.”
“Why would you come if you believe all of that?”
“Because you asked.” Biting her lower lip again, she looks away.
“You don’t know my family.”
“Yeah, I don’t, but how can you trust your dad? He’s already betrayed you once.”
“He’s my dad, Saya. There had to be some reason for it. How do you know you can trust Zee or Cricket?”
“People earn trust. You don’t just give it to them.”
“You take risks when you trust others, Saya. That’s probably why you don’t trust often.”
Her face tightens. “We’re not talking about me here. Why’d you want to risk coming back to your house? You could have told Pike no.”
Silence slips between us again. Tracing the slant of her eyes is…beautiful…distracting. “If there was a chance, I could ask my parents why this happened and what they knew about it, I was taking it. Pike didn’t have to request that I do this. I’m not doing this for him. And so far, he hasn’t betrayed me.” Then I turn the tables on her. “Do you trust me?”
Her gaze roves over my face. “You’re Golden.”
I smile. “Then I’ll have to earn it.” She doesn’t trust me, at least not yet. But I intend to change that. Visiting my parents is the first step.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
We huddle for a little over an hour, not talking. The silence between us is overwhelming and says everything. I want to ask her about her mom and dad, Pike, and if she still loves her ex. But now is not the right time. I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of hers. I never do, and that bothers me.
“I’m so over crouching in the bushes and waiting,” she complains, attitude included at no extra charge. Who am I quipping? She tends to speak to me with a twinge of attitude in her voice.
“My room is that one.” I point to one of the balconies.
“How many rooms does a place like this have?”
“Thirty rooms, ten bathrooms.”
“That’s ridiculous!” She shakes her head disapprovingly and then, a second later, she’s thinking of the mission. “Why don’t we go in from your balcony?”
“Because that used to be the way I snuck into the house. They’d expect that.”
“What’s the plan then?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think a little faster, will you?”
“Genius takes time.”
“So does stupid.” She giggles, and I laugh with her. What can I say? Laughter’s infectious, and so is she. In a good way.
About five minutes later, I figure out how we’ll get in. I tuck the dingy old flutterboard into the bushes. “Follow me.” Climbing over the six-foot iron backyard gate, we creep near the wooden deck. The motion-detection lights behind the house trigger on, flooding bright yellow lights into the center of the grassy backyard. The huge tree and swings are highlighted, but we flee to one side of the deck by the time the lights flash.
“We’re not going to try the patio doors, are we?” she asks.
“No, those would be secured.”
She huffs. “Well, what the zard are we doing?”
I turn on her quickly, pinning her to the side of the balcony where a wooden beam supports the deck. My body presses against hers. Her chest heaves against me as she looks up.
“Let me lead.” We’re so close her bubblegum breaths tingle my nose. Turned on earlier by the smell of her hair, now I find the smell of her breath invigorating.
Her lips call to me, but I don’t dare kiss her again. Nodding her agreement, she pushes me away. “All right. Your mission. You lead.”
I narrate my plan for her benefit after that. “This house has secret passageways, safe rooms, and hidden rooms.” I lean down and roll under the deck. “There’s a trap door under this side of the deck that leads up to a closet near my dad’s office. When you’re ready, duck under here and watch your head. We’ll have to crawl.” I whisper as loud as I dare, since we’re under the house.
The space here is about four feet tall, so I crawl on all fours and head toward the trap door.
Saya flattens herself to the ground and stares at me but doesn’t follow yet. “Does anyone know about this passageway?”
I look back at her, silhouetted by a shaft of light coming from the backyard.
“Get under here before the floodlights go off and we won’t be able to see.”
She rolls under the house and crawls toward me.
“There are a few passageways the builder put in secretly. Mom and Dad showed me the ones they knew about, and I discovered the rest on my own.”
The floodlights ebb, and only a slither of moonlight helps us see ahead.
Saya stops crawling. “Where are you? I can’t see.”
“Hold where you are.” Reaching the spot where the trap door should be, I feel above my head for a metal handle. The underside of the floor is cement, and the rough, popcorn feel of it makes my hands itch. Finally, I grasp the handle. The trap door slides open, and a heavy object falls next to me. When did they start putting stuff in this closet?
Saya gasps and scampers toward me. Still on our knees in the enclosed space, she’s moving quicker, learning to see with her hands. She grabs my arm and chest, and her hands linger over my upper body. I flex instinctively and smile, and she pulls her hands back immediately. “Sorry.” She looks down at the object that fell. “What’s that?”
I look down at the black iron box. “A safe.”
Squeezing around it, I hoist myself through the trap door, placing my palms on the inside of the floor as I rise.
Lights flicker on from the motion. The glare blinds me temporarily. I close my eyes and then open them, squinting until my eyes adjust.
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This closet used to be a useless, unfilled room, but now it’s stockpiled with food supplies. Fully stocked. Why do they have this much food on hand? This is where all the food Mom sent me to the market for went. She’s stockpiling it. Hoarding it? Typical Mom. Always has more than she needs and wants more than she has.
“Help me up already,” Saya begs from below, and I kneel over. She shimmies around the safe, and I grab her forearms to tug her through. She jumps up at the same time, and I lean back to catch her. She’s propelled into my arms, and we lie on the floor with feet dangling inside the trap door.
She stares into my eyes and then pushes herself up off my chest. A flashback of the first time we met comes to mind. Before her hands leave my body, I flex my chest muscles so they’re firm under her touch. Every moment with her is an opportunity to flirt and get closer. I’m persistent if nothing else. I will break her down.
She sits on the floor beside me, and I slide the trap door closed. They’ll eventually figure out the safe fell below the house and this is how I got in. Then it dawns on me. Maybe they found this passageway and put the safe there for a reason: to hide the door or to warn them with noise if it’s opened from the outside.
“You say this is a closet?” Her eyes evaluate the room. After living with Dregs, the closet feels huge. At seven hundred square feet, it could be a bedroom with thick white shelving.
I stand and offer to help her up. Planting her feet flat on the floor, she grips my hands and pulls herself up.
“It used to be empty.”
“Looks like they’re stockpiling goods for a disaster. Our clan could eat for at least a year on all this food.”
I look into her eyes and am lost for an instant. Shaking off my attraction, I creep from the closet into the hallway. The tall white ceilings and black-and-white marble walls are exquisitely beautiful to my eyes after being away from this place for so long. Saya touches her palm to a wall, and curiosity and wonder light her face.
At the end of the second hall, a sharp beam of light shines. My father’s office door is cracked open. The crisp sound of shuffling paper escapes. He’s still up.
Dad once told me that he barely slept. He was, by his own admission, smarter and ahead of the competition because of this. But I never understood. His company is the backbone of technology in our society. They have no competition. Wait, didn’t Carson say he worked for a tech company? But he didn’t mention Shaw Tech by name. Could my father be wrong? Could he have competitors?
“Too many doors,” Saya remarks as we tiptoe past the tenth one.
Three months ago, I wouldn’t have agreed, because I was accustomed to Golden opulence. But she’s right. Too many doors and rooms serve absolutely no purpose.
Mom has a sewing room and a reading room. My sister has five themed playrooms—princess, doctor, cook, entertainer, and veterinarian—all of which hold loads of props, costumes, and toys. Ems has forced me to play in each of those rooms so many times I’ve lost count.
I point to my father’s office door. Saya nods, and I push the door open. I take a deep breath and enter.
My father immediately sits up behind his massive oak desk, a nineteenth-century antique with raised side panels, a leather top, and carved bronze mounts. I purposefully steer us clear of the office wall facing the neighbor’s house clad with ceiling-high windows, hoping there is no surveillance on this house like Pike surmised. Though people can’t see in, I’m scared they can see shadows or movement.
“Oh my heart! I thought you were dead!” Dad rushes to hug me. A myriad of emotions and thoughts overflow inside my body and mind. Did he just assume I was dead because I was declared so? Did he even look for my body?
Did he look for me is a better question. The cop in jail said my father made a deal. And that deal didn’t include me.
Saya steps back, giving us space. The office is huge, suitably big for a company president. Heavily carved wooden cabinets, three brown leather office chairs, a sitting area with two couches, a lavish burgundy carpet, glass display units, and oak wall shelves give the place an “old rich man” sort of appeal. A charming, rustic coffee table holds two crystal decanters partially full of cognac liquor. Nothing says “old rich man” better than crystal decanters and shiny wood.
After we hug—an awkward bobbing and patting—Dad signals us to sit on the guest side of his desk. “The Premier declared you dead. Then there was a sighting at Shaw Tech. My building. The live stream was damaged from an explosion, but your bud Noodle was very adamant that he saw you.” He’s rambling, either giddy with relief at seeing me again or nervous about what seeing me might do to his career.
“Dad, this is Saya,” I say before we take our seats.
He doesn’t fully look at her. He barely nods, continuing to talk as if never interrupted. “Kade, why would you break into my building?”
“Nice to meet you, too,” she says under her breath, so low and quiet that I’m the only one who hears it.
Smiling at her, I speak without words. We need him. I’m sorry for the way he’s acting.
“We needed food.” I break eye contact with Saya.
“You run with Dregs now?” He spits out the words like acid on his tongue.
“They rescued me.”
“At what price?” Looking down at his desk, he shakes his head from side to side, apparently ashamed by my decision.
“I was going to be executed, Dad. I didn’t have a choice. You didn’t come for me. You sent Mom to basically tell me nothing. It was either go with Dregs or die.”
His eyes slim, becoming hawkish. “Did anyone else try and rescue you?”
“You mean besides Dregs? No. I was set to be executed at the main city hospital.” What does Dad know? Was he expecting someone else to rescue me? I vow to find out as much as I can about my circumstances. “Did you know that or were you too busy saving your own ass?”
“My hands were tied.” He adjusts the collar of his pajamas.
“But Mom came to visit me.”
“I know.” He pulls again at his collar.
“You knew about the execution, didn’t you?”
“The order came straight from the premier.”
“And you did nothing?” My eyes narrow. “You would’ve let me die?”
“Listen—”
“I know the government logs info like the Taken and suspected Dregs, Begotten, and Goldens. How did I get on their radar?” I don’t want to listen to any excuse for abandoning me in my only time of real need.
“Do you know about the trials, too?”
Trials. Hmm. No, but thanks for sharing. A deep breath helps me file that info for later retrieval. “I’ve found out a lot about your dealings lately.”
“How do you have government intel?” he asks defensively, which hardens my heart. He’s worried about his position in society, not my welfare.
Grinding my teeth is involuntary, and I open my mouth to stop from accidently biting my tongue. “You knew I was alive and I’d come to you for answers.”
Touching his temples, he bows his head over the desk. He knows exactly what questions I’m going to ask but isn’t positive what to tell me.
“The poor have a natural immunity to disease…and I have never been sick.”
My father shakes his head rapidly like he is fighting off the truth. “Goldens have been getting weaker.” He speaks with a reluctance that makes my blood boil. “Shaw Tech is supposed to find an answer. I am charged with making us stronger.” He’s covering up for the government, only telling me what doesn’t put him in jeopardy.
Maybe he’s being watched. Maybe this is a setup, and cop squads will appear from nowhere. Intuition tells me we shouldn’t have come, but I push for answers. “Tell me this, Dad: Does the government take people?”
Saya leans forward, hair falling into her face. She pulls the longer pieces of her short haircut behind her ears, an innocent gesture.
“It’s all for the greater good.”
I sh
ake my head. I said a similar thing to Pike when I first arrived at the rec center. Now I understand I was a robot. A child merely repeating what I heard, learned, or saw, or what I thought to be true. My father’s son. But in the last three months, I’ve grown. I’m finally understanding the complicated world I live in.
“Is the government weeding people out of society? Was it your genome sequencing that put me on the radar?”
“It’s all for the greater good.” He keeps dodging.
“Bullshucky,” Saya spats. “More like it’s for Golden good.”
Dad grabs at his temples. He despises her kind. But hate is learned, it comes from ignorance, a vicious cycle I’ve broken.
No “greater good” exists, or at least not in my understanding of the term. If people who hold power try to serve the greater good, then they’d have to operate under the assumption that they know what’s best and that they’re helping humankind. But the people who hold power in the Americas continue to make decisions that only serve themselves, the Goldens. They stand on the backs and necks of Dregs to make themselves stronger. They hunt down and take Dregs. This isn’t about my life anymore. It’s about the lives of many.
A famous scholar once said, “Goldens get richer while Dregs stay poor, suffering in a pain Goldens will never know.” He was Dreg. And he had it right. We have to change the way poor people, people of color, differently abled, and luminaire are treated.
My mission now is to stop the government. I have no idea how I’ll do it, but I’m up for the challenge. This isn’t right.
“Are you and Mom my real parents?” I finally ask. “Tell me the truth.”
He looks up. “Why would you think such a thing?”
I gaze at Saya. She’s a beautiful painting, a piece of art I missed really seeing because I’d categorized her wrong. I’m thankful she’s here to support me, even if it is only another mission to her.
“Because I want to know if I am Dreg.”
