by RaeLynn Fry
I pull the drawstring tight at the top of the bag and fold the flap over, securing it in place with a buckle. I brush my hands off on my thighs as I stand, and head towards the kitchen, stopping just short of the table.
The rug in the living room is pulled back and the trap door to Eta's hidey hole has been propped open. I look around, nervously. I’m not sure why. I guess because I know what a closely kept secret of hers this is, and here it is, exposed and vulnerable. I go to the front door and make sure the lock is secure. I stand at hole in the floor, looking at it, not sure if she means for me to come down or not.
“Permission to come aboard?” I say into the bowels of her lab.
“Oh, for goodness sake! Just get down here, boy.”
I turn around and climb down the ladder. Whatever it is that Eta's going to show me, it has to be important; she doesn’t like me being down here unless I have to.
My eyes adjust quickly to the lower level of light, but even then, it’s surprising how bright it is down here. She was able to rig electricity for her experiments, which means lighting, too.
The closer I get to the bottom of the lab, the cooler the air gets, but the heavier it is with a rancid, but sweet, smell. Almost like something is going bad. I turn around and suck in a quick gasp of air. I shove my back up against the ladder, and my hand clamps down around my nose and mouth. “What the—Eta, please tell me that isn't what it looks like.”
“It is most certainly what it looks like. Here, put this on.” She throws me a mask and some protective eyewear.
“That’s the body we found from last night. On your table. Cut open.” I remember one of the things I saw the first time I was down here. The blood stains.
“This is for science, Ethan. A necessary thing to do.” The look on my face must be one of horror because she gets all huffy, reminding me of a wet hen and says, “For goodness sake, lad, it's not like I killed him myself to get him on there, he was already dead.”
“So you didn't Comm the Guards.”
“I didn't Comm the Guards.”
“You brought him here, instead.”
“I brought him here, instead.” She sighs.
“By yourself.”
“Yes, boy, by myself. Now that we're past the obvious elements of this situation, may I show you what I have found?”
“Can I just point out that that…man…is over two hundred pounds of dead weight and I’m supposed to just swallow that you brought him down here and hoisted him onto that metal tray, by yourself?”
“Insolent,” she mutters. The insides of her eyebrows dip down at a severe angle when she says, “You need to learn when it is best to stop asking questions.”
She holds my stare and after a somewhat dry swallow, I put on the mask and eyewear, still in a slight state of disbelief. I step towards the body. I'm not sure if I should be in profound awe or unsettling fear. I decide on reverence. I cast her a sideways glance as I settle in next to her.
She notices, because her cheeks turn a bit pinker. “I'm still the same person I was before.”
“I’m sure, but now I'm trying to figure out who that was.” Her apron is flecked with blood and globs of what I assume are a tissue of some kind. There's a scalpel in one hand and some sort of tool in the other. I have absolutely no idea what she's been using it for. It looks a bit like what she uses to turn meat over in the pan with. My stomach churns.
“May I start?” she snaps.
“Please.”
“We know the Corporation is up to something. We know they are using Maute as an experiment, but we don't know for what. We know that if you survive it, it grabs the Corp's interest and they take you. Presumably to study further. So we can safely assume that going through the sickness is a transformation of some sort and that if survived without the medicine, the transition is considered a success, which happens few and far between.”
I nod my head, letting her know that I'm following her stream of thought and to continue.
“Until now.”
“Until now?”
I can tell that she is attempting to hold back the smile eager to break through, but she can't. It explodes and lifts her cheeks up, creating a puffy ring at the bottom of each eye and folds of lines at the corners. “Until Sharabi, here.” She points to the man on the table.
He's very, very large. The fat on his arms and legs hangs over the edge of the small table. His stomach rises over the height of his chest, and it's cut open, peeled over the sides to create a cavern inside. His outward appearance shows no signs of the disease.
“How do you know Sharabi had Maute? We never made a house call, he was never sick, that we know of, and his….body…shows no symptoms.”
“The blood samples that I've been taking from the others all contain the same residue from the disease, a sort of marker.”
I look down at a tray of different vials, labeled with white tape scrawled with names. Ajna and Sharabi are the only ones I recognize.
“I don't think the Corporation knows it exists. Anyhow, his blood contains the same marker. I think the fact that he was the town drunk and three sheets to the wind all day, everyday must have helped, but I’m not sure how. I’m researching that, too.”
“But we found him dead. I thought it was only a success if they survived?”
“Maute wasn't what killed him. He died of hypothermia. But, liver failure would have got him in a few months anyhow. All that drinking is never a good thing.”
What a way to go—surviving Maute, only to be undone by the cold, and eventually one's liver. “So what did you find out?”
Her eyes widen in tandem with her smile. “What happens to the body during Maute. What makes the survivors so valuable and interesting to the Corporation. Come, look.” She motions for me to stand beside her as she steps up on a stool I hadn't noticed before. With its assistance, she’s tall enough to stand over the body and see what she's doing.
Sharabi’s skin is folded over like a split potato, the rib cage spread open, being held that way with an intimidating looking metal contraption. Inside is an array of pink and red masses of soft tissue. I see the lungs, heart, and intestines, but that’s all I can readily identify. The others I have no idea about. I may put on a brave front, but I have a queasy stomach. I swallow down my supper that’s trying to resurface.
A red light flashes in the top corner of the room along with a dull beep. Eta walks over to a little screen and turns a knob. I stand behind her, peering over her shoulder, and try to make out what the blurry, black and white picture is showing us.
A figure shifts back and forth, looking over its shoulder. Eta leans forward to get a better look and presses a button, bringing the figure closer.
I let out a puff of impressed air. It's a camera giving us a live feed of her front stoop. It must only turn on when someone’s there.
I lean in with her. “It looks like Kalaen's dad,” I say, a bit puzzled. “But what is he doing here at this hour?”
Eta turns on her heel and starts pushing me backwards. “We have to get to the door.”
I spin around and hurry up the ladder, reaching down to help her up the last few rungs. She gets out and smoothes her skirt while I carefully close the hatch and lay the rug straight. She opens the door just enough for Mr. Aboca to slide through. He's breathless and worried when he comes in, he doesn't even bother to remove his mask to talk to us.
“He's gone,” Mr. Aboca says.
Eta had been right, Kalaen didn’t last more than a day. But I don’t know why Mr. Aboca would risk coming to tell us this in the middle of the night when Eta was scheduled to see them tomorrow.
“I’m so sorry, Toby. No one should be taken that young,” Eta says. “Tell me what happened.” Her voice is commanding, like a captain barking orders.
“No!” Toby snaps. “You don’t understand.” He has a feral look in his eyes and my body automatically prepares to step between Eta and him, should he get too out of hand.
Eta puts a calm
ing touch on his shoulder. “Then tell me.”
“Not long after you visited, an amazing thing happened. Kalaen was starting to get better.”
“Better?” I say in disbelief.
“Shhh!” Eta says.
“The color was coming back to his eyes, the sores had all but disappeared—as if they'd never been there in the first place. His fever was almost gone. He started improving dramatically every hour. We even opened the window to let the fresh air in. Eventually, it was like he was never sick at all. It all happened so quickly. We didn’t have time to come get you. Then, the Guards came, as if they knew what had happened and they took him away. I don’t even know how they knew he was sick. We didn't report it. How did they know?”
“Mr. Aboca, I need you to calm down and think for me—where did they take him?”
“I don't know, they didn't say. The only thing they told us was that we should have reported the sickness and that our Medic should have reported it. They said what we did put more people at risk.”
“You said he was all but cured, so they can't be keeping him for much longer,” I say. But that’s a lie. The fact that Kalaen is the only known living person to survive this sickness will only make the Corporation take every precaution possible to not lose him.
“There’s more,” Mr. Aboca says. “A Guard just left our house.” His chest is heaving in a combination of heavy breaths and bridled sobs. “They came to tell us that Kalaen has died.”
“What?” I say. “That doesn't make sense. You said he was all but healed. The Corporation takes him, then he dies?”
“This doesn't feel right,” Eta says.
“That’s because it isn't!” Tears streaks down Mr. Aboca's dirt stained face, making him look a bit like a nightmare. “They killed him!” His fists are shaking at his side, turning white, he's squeezing them so hard. “Do you know what this is doing to Sera? These ups and downs are too much for her; I’m afraid they’ll be her undoing!”
“Let us handle this,” I say. “You go home and be with your wife.”
He looks at me, viciousness in his eyes. “You?” he gives a bitter laugh. “The son of the Corporation helping me find out why his father killed my son?”
“Now listen, that's not fair.” But he doesn't let me say anymore.
“For all we know, you're a part of this. You're probably the reason!”
Eta slaps him hard on the cheek. “Listen here!” Toby’s stunned look is quickly overtaken by eyes weighed down with heavy grief. “Ethan may have come from the Inner City, but he is as much a part of Neech as any of us here, if not more. He's the one risking his neck to bring us peace and freedom. It's your grief and anger speaking, and I understand that, but you won't be talking like that anymore under my roof. And if I hear of you spreading that hate speech around the city, I will be your undoing.” She is a little woman, but every inch of her being is saturated in a promise of retribution, should he cross the line. “Is that understood?”
He is silent, looking from Eta to me and back again. “I won't have to say anything. I'm not the only one who feels this way.”
And there it is, what I have suspected, but never been able to confirm. Until now.
“Go home, Toby. Before you say something you will really regret.” Her shoulders are back and her voice is like stone. Toby turns and goes out the door. The house is in silence.
“There's no way Kalaen is dead,” I say. “The Corp wouldn’t.”
“I agree. We need to find out why they took the boy. Now, more than ever you need to find out your father's plan, and stop it.”
“What time is it?” I ask.
Eta looks at a watch. “Time for you to get going. You don't want to be late.” I turn towards the ladder. As interested as I am to learn what she’s found out, I’m too glad for the escape. She can fill me in later, without the visual aids.
“I should have most of the autopsy completed by the time you get back.”
I try to look disappointed. “Hopefully it won’t take too long.” I hurry up the ladder.
Karis
“How'd the meeting go?” Papa asks.
I rip at the buttons of my duster, tearing it off. “If you'd been there, you'd know the answer to that question.” I tug the mask from my face with added aggression and neglect to tell him I wasn’t there the entire time.
“I take it it went badly?” Papa doesn't get up from his chair.
I go to the firewood pile and snatch up a log, bark crumbling to the floor, and toss it into the fire. The flames snap back angrily, spitting out bits of embers onto the rug. I stomp them out with my boot. I poke at the log a few times before I sit down in a chair across from Papa, ignoring his question.
“You know, you're bein' borderline disrespectful right now, young lady.”
“The meeting was a mess,” I spit out.
“How so?”
“Again, if you'd have been there, you'd know.”
“I'm not gonna to talk to you again about manners, Karis. If you want to act like a spoiled Candidate, I'll treat you like one. But as it is, you're an adult, or you used to be, so act like it and talk to me in a civilized manner.”
I pull from past meetings. “Hardly anyone showed up and the people that were there were demanding that Ethan give them proof of something worth fighting for. And out of all the people that showed up, one of them was Raj Verna.”
“Our old neighbor?” Papa asks, a bit puzzled.
“Yeah, he's the one that demanded the proof. I don't trust him. Where has he been all this time, if not with the Corporation?”
“What you just told me doesn't even begin to justify the mood you're in. What else happened? Did you get into a fight with Ethan?”
“Ethan isn't some sort of saint, ya know.” I push myself up out of my chair. “Ever stop to think that maybe he got into a fight with me?”
“Karis, sit down and be quiet. We have Sai tonight and I just put her down. If you wake her up, you’ll be the one handlin’ her all night, not me.” He waits until I've sat down before he starts talking again. “Tell me about what's gonna on between you two. When you two first got back, you were inseparable. Now I hardly ever see him and you rarely ever talk about him. You're fightin’ more than you should be, and it's just not right. You two need each other.”
“Maybe we just don't see eye to eye on things, anymore, Papa.” I stand up again and head for my duster and mask.
“I think the real issue here is your inability to accept the situation for what it is. You're busy fightin’ somethin’ that can't be fought. And as a result, you're lettin’ things slide in your real life. The life you need to be livin'. You treat our guest like a leper and then name him like a pet. You spend more time talkin’ to him than you do to the man who loves you. You're disrespectful to me and I'm not likin’ where this is headed. You may be turnin’ into a young woman, but you're still a ward under my roof and I expect you to obey the rules and pull your weight. Refocus your mind and do it fast.” His arms are crossed over his chest and his entire face is red from anger. Even his ears.
I hate his words. Every single one of them. More than anything, because they're true. “You need to take some breaths and I need to walk this off,” I say.
“I think that's a good idea.”
I wrap my scarf around my neck and head out the door. Men are proving to be useless.
७
Why are people irritating me so much, lately? It's as if my tolerance for them and their selfish ignorance has lowered. Drastically. In fact, it no longer exists. I can't even stand being around Papa for longer than I have to. It's like I can't look at anyone without feeling repulsed or anger from their lack of motivation and desire to do anything to make their circumstances better.
The night has a biting edge to it and I know winter will be here sooner this year than last. In my rush to get out of the house, I forgot my duster and mask. I'm fine with that. I just need to get somewhere where I can breathe. Curfew is almost here so I
have the freedom of a few more precious moments. That's all I need. I wish I could just get away from it all. Pretend that this isn't my life. When I get my brother back, that's exactly what I'm going to do.
I kick at clumps of asphalt that litter the path, watching them tumble across the pitted ground. A larger piece bounces into a wall and breaks into smaller chunks. That one bruised my big toe a little but the pain feels good, in an odd way. I feel like I've been living in this surreal environment, nothing is right, everything is wrong and off axis, but this one thing—this pain I'm feeling—it’s real and something I can ground myself to.
“Karis?”
I look up and see Ethan a few yards in front of me. I feel horrible for thinking it, but he's the last person I want to see right now.
“Oh, hi Ethan.” Back before things started getting stressed between us, my stomach would get nervous and my head light whenever I ran into Ethan, which seemed like more than what should be considered coincidental. Now, not so much.
“What are you doing out here? It's almost curfew.”
“Almost.” I shove my hands down further into the pockets of my pants. I'm starting to feel a little guilty, but I don't know why. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was…coming to talk to you, actually. About the meeting.”
Oh. Great, another lecture about my absence. “What about?”
“Let's head back to your place, we'll talk on the way.”
I nod and turn back the way I came, Ethan in step next to me. He doesn't reach out for my hand, but I can see him looking at me from the corner of his eye because I'm looking at him that way, too. My fingers itch to reach out for his, but I don’t give in.
“I feel like we have a real opportunity to gain some ground and support in the meetings.”
“But?”
