Concisus

by Tracy Rozzlynn

  Jeremy holds his hand out to collect the nuts and bolts as I remove them. “My dad liked to drink, a lot,” he says quietly. “He was a mean drunk.”

  I plunk the first pair of nuts and bolts into his hand. “So, he took his anger out on you.”

  “Only when I got in between him and my mom.” His voice quivers. “He saved his fists for her and his belt for me. Sometimes he got the ends mixed up and I’d get the buckle end.”

  I stifle a gasp. “How did you get away?”

  “A teacher at school noticed I was walking funny one day and sent me to the nurse’s office. Then the state got involved.” He draws in a deep breath, but falls silent. I drop another bolt into his hand. “My mom was too scared to speak out against him,” he blurts. “The social worker suspected the truth, but as long as my mom claimed my dad was innocent, the social worker’s hands were tied.” The bolts in his hand clink together and I see he’s visibly shaking. “She never said anything. She let the state take me away.”

  He drops the bolts on the floor. I stand and hold him as he silently sobs. “I always planned to go back for her. When I was old enough, I’d go back and force her to leave. I’d take her far enough away that he could never find us.”

  I hold him tighter, as if that could somehow shield him from the pain. “You never got the chance to go back,” I murmur.

  He swallows hard. “No. Shortly after my twelfth birthday, one of my dad’s late night benders killed her.”

  “I’m so sorry. No child should ever have to go through that.” My words feel woefully inadequate.

  Jeremy straightens up, walks in the bathroom, and washes his face. When he returns he’s smiling. I wonder how many times I’ve seen that smile which I now know only covers his pain.

  “Don’t look at me that way. I survived, and my story’s hardly the worst one around. Sometimes I wonder if they pulled us all from the island of misfit kids.”

  Despite his oddly placed referral to Christmas, he’s right. Everyone here has some kind of story, some reason that left them unwanted and alone in the world. All those reasons are what led us here. We’re not the best and brightest kids the Center for Technological Advancement could have selected to settle the planet—we’re the most disposable. In some people’s eyes we have the least value, making it that much easier for them to feel free to run their twisted pod experiments on us.

  “Do you want to see them?” Jeremy’s unexpected question pulls me from my thoughts. Just a few minutes ago, he didn’t even want to talk about his scars. “Now that you know about them,” he explains, “you’ll keep thinking about them until you see them.”

  I shake my head. “That’s my problem to deal with. You’ve shared more than enough with me already.”

  Jeremy winks, turns around, and pulls up his shirt. I don’t know whether I should scream in anger, cry for him, or vomit in disgust. His back is layered with crisscrossed ragged lines of varying heights and colors. Years of repeated abuse are etched on his back. My hands and jaw clench as my blood boils. I know his father and mother have been dead and buried for hundreds of years, but every ounce of my being wants to hunt down his father and make him feel the helplessness and pain he made Jeremy endure.

  “Don’t waste your time hating him,” Jeremy says. “I have enough hate for both of us even though he’s not worth the energy.” He straightens his shirt and hands me the wrench. I wordlessly finish the pod as I blink back angry tears.

  When I’m finished, Jeremy congratulates me on a job well done and sends me off to the dorms so I can disconnect Andi’s pod while I still remember how. The rewiring is much easier the second time around. I finish the job in record time. I’m tempted to disconnect more, but Jeremy warned me that too many disconnected pods might trigger an alert.

  Once I finish Andi’s pod, I visit the hospital for the second half of our plan and complain to one of the nurses that I’m having trouble sleeping.

  I wonder if it’s only coincidence that Chad’s the doctor on duty. From the expression on his face, I think I’m in trouble.

  “What’s really going on?” he asks. “And please don’t tell me it’s insomnia. We both know that the instant you lie down in a pod you should fall immediately asleep.”

  I have my rebuttal planned. “Well, my issue isn’t falling asleep as much as lying down. I get so restless before bedtime that I just don’t want to sleep. It’s not really an issue in the dorms, eventually boredom makes me want to sleep. But in the field lab there’s so much to do that I can easily work through the night without even thinking of the pod.”

  He frowns. “And you think sleeping pills are the solution?”

  I had planned to flirt a little with a doctor, if necessary, but Chad’s presence complicates things. “I don’t need anything strong, just something to help me feel sleepy.”

  “I have just the thing to help you.” He disappears for a few minutes and reappears with a container of pills.

  The label says Fluoxetine, but it doesn’t give any directions or dosage amounts. “Do I just take one right before bedtime?”

  “Actually morning is better,” he says lightly, and I’m immediately confused and suspicious. “Your serotonin levels are lower when you first wake up. You really don’t need its benefits when you’re asleep,” he explains.

  “Just what is Fluoxetine?”

  Chad gives the answer I suspected. “It’s an antidepressant.”

  I scowl at him. “You mean like Prozac? Uh-uh. No way. I’m stressed, not depressed. There’s no way in hell I’m taking this. I’m fine during the day. Getting to sleep is the issue. I’ve tried warm milk already. I need something stronger, that’s all.”

  His face fills with pity. “Then tell me what kicking the bench was about? Crying, being easily agitated, and insomnia are all symptoms of depression.”

  How dare he throw that night in my face? “You kissed me even though you thought I was depressed? Should you even be acting as my doctor?”

  “I was serious when I said I wanted to remain friends,” he answers, “and I can keep my personal and professional feelings separate. However, if you prefer, I can get you another doctor. Just don’t expect them to say anything different.”

  “I’m sorry. I was out of line, but so are you. Crying, agitation and insomnia are also normal responses to stress.”

  “Sleeping pills will only mask your problem. An antidepressant combined with counseling is what you need.” His tone borders on condescending.

  My tone matches his. “You think Prozac is the solution? Sorry, but no. I have no interest in turning myself into an emotional Zombie.”

  Chad places a hand on my shoulder and looks into my eyes. I’m sure it’s a move he learned in Bedside Manner 101. “It won’t do that, it’ll just help you feel better and deal with your issues more easily.”

  I push away his hand. “You can save your textbook speech for someone else. A friend of my mom’s had postpartum. She said the day her doctor finally let her off Prozac was one of the best days of her life. Sure Prozac kept her from feeling sad, but it kept her from feeling happy. She felt like she was on autopilot.”

  Chad softly sighs. “You can’t base your opinion on one person’s experience. She was probably given an incorrect dose. That’s part of the reason counseling is strongly recommended as a part of the treatment.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not taking it.” How did this conversation get so off track? Chad probably thinks I’m a medication phobic. Yeah, antidepressants have their place, even my mom’s friend admitted they helped her, but they’re not what Andi needs. I consider coming clean and telling Chad about the pods and Andi’s insomnia, but if I fail to convince him, Andi could wind up married. That’s not a chance I can take.

  “Okay, how about a compromise?” I ask. “Give me enough sleeping pills to last me a week, maybe two. If I can’t fall asleep on my own in two weeks, I’ll come back and get the Prozac and see a counselor or something. I won’t complain or give you any is
sues about taking it.”

  Sounding exasperated Chad agrees, “Fine, but one week. And I want you to make an appointment with Dr. Dupree. She’s the base psychologist.”

  “Deal.” I finally get to leave with my seven little pills. I hope one day Andi will appreciate everything I’m doing for her.

  Fortunately, Andi tends to be a creature of habit and she’s in the habit of drinking a glass of warm cinnamon milk before bed every night. The very idea of warm milk turns my stomach, but for Andi’s sake, I ask to join her. I intentionally hide the cinnamon. When Andi disappears into the kitchen to find some more, I dump a ground-up sleeping pill into her drink and stir in the powder. She comes back with the cinnamon, sprinkles a generous amount onto her milk, and takes a sip. I take a sip of my drink to hide the anxiety that must be all over my face. I breathe a sigh of relief when Andi seems to taste nothing unusual in her drink.

  On the walk back to our dorm we talk about the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration. Jackson is cooking for the event and will be too busy to visit anyone. Andi insists I go with her and won’t take no for an answer. In the end, I cave and promise to go.

  I crawl into my pod and wait for everyone else to lie down. Andi gives me a strange look but then lies down, and a few minutes later, she’s sound asleep, just like all the other girls in our room. I’m weary from my long day, but my mind refuses to quiet long enough for me to sleep. The pod would easily fix my sleepiness, but I can’t chance it. I remain upside down and try counting sheep. I lose count several times before eventually drifting off to sleep. I dream of my neighborhood filled with white picket fences and perfectly manicured lawns. My dream takes me back to the day when I was naive enough to think that all parents loved their kids and nothing bad would ever happen. In my dream, everyone I care about is magically protected from car accidents, plane crashes and anything else that could cause harm.

  Chapter 14

  When I awake the next morning, my lingering dream makes me unsure of where I am. After a few hard blinks, the fog clears from my brain. I’m happy to see that Andi is still sound asleep in her pod. I head out for a morning run and to visit Caper. Molly promised to meet him, but with the other girls sleeping in the field lab, I’m still worried. Molly is already awake taking advantage of the extra two hours sleeping upside down provides, and she’s brewed coffee. Thanks to the pods, Gabriella and Jennifer are still out cold. Molly and I relax and drink our coffee while we wait for Caper’s happy chirps.

  “I’m gonna take a quick walk outside.” I don’t want to alarm Molly, but Caper should be here already. He and Sapphire have been visiting every morning without fail since her release. Sapphire always hangs back and watches from a distance. I can’t blame her—we may have released her, but Sapphire has little reason to trust any humans.

  I don’t see any signs of either meerkit. My worst fears play through my mind. What if Caper followed Ryan’s scent back and found Elliot? What if one of Elliot’s traps caught Sapphire? They could be alone, frightened and hungry, with no one to help them. I begin chirping and cooing, desperate to hear either Caper or Sapphire respond. I’m so focused on finding him that I don’t watch where I’m going. My foot lands with a splat and flies out from under me making me land on my butt with a thud. Yuck. My hand lands in the same muck that caused me to slip. I cringe and look down. Though barely recognizable, the pile I stepped in is now smashed opal berries. Caper was definitely here. Something glints in the sun, a marble. I search the pile and find three more, one for each of us—Jake, Molly, Ryan and me. In my heart, I know the reason Caper parted with his prized jewels. He was saying goodbye.

  He’s migrated south for the winter. I knew it was coming, but I still feel shocked and a little hurt. I should be happy that Caper’s safely away from the base, but he’s always been there for me and I miss him already. I explain what’s happened to Molly and then finish my morning run.

  Afterward I return to the dorm to shower. I prefer the privacy of the field lab’s showers, but I want to make sure that Andi doesn’t oversleep. I’m happy to see that the dorm room is empty, and I step into the shower. When I finish, I find two maintenance workers nosing around my pod.

  I clear my throat. “Um, excuse me. What are the two of you doing in the girls’ dorm?”

  “We received a report on a malfunctioning pod,” says one of the workers. “It’s not our fault that you got a late start.”

  “I went for a run. It’s not the same as a late start. Either way, I should be able to get out of the shower without worrying about strange men in my room.”

  The guy slowly looks me up and down and then snickers. “Yeah, whatever. We’re done here anyway. There’s nothing wrong with the pod—just some girl overreacting.”

  I hitch my towel higher. “You push an overreacting girl enough,” I growl, “and she’ll be forced to verify just what the policies are regarding maintenance entering a dorm room.”

  The two guys turn and leave, swearing under their breath. Jerks.

  A few days later, Elliot calls us to his field lab and announces we’re going on a field visit, tomorrow.

  “That’s not much notice,” I complain. I’m thrilled to finally get out into the wilderness again, but time is needed to properly plan and prepare.

  “Don’t worry yourself. I have everything we need for tomorrow.” He gestures to a stack of cages behind him.

  “Basically we’re your pack mules,” I state flatly. I know from Jake and Molly’s reports to expect this kind of treatment, but it still doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

  “Something like that.” He smirks. I meet his gaze and refuse to back down or show any sign of intimidation. After all, this is the same guy who’s treated my friends like crap and altered his discovery dates in the database. “See you tomorrow,” he growls as my dismissal.

  I immediately hunt down Jeremy. A field visit beyond the one-mile radius means a week’s quarantine. I still have one pill left, but I won’t be able to spike Andi’s milk. Fortunately, Jeremy is willing to help out.

  Pack mules are exactly what Elliot uses us for when we venture into the field. He takes a small backpack with food and water for himself and leaves us to carry everything else, which are traps, traps and more traps. We follow him around as he checks his traps. When he finds a full trap, he replaces it with an empty one and makes us carry the full cage. By the time he’s finished his rounds, we’re each carrying two animals except for Elliot. His hands are free, and he’s ready to continue laying the remaining traps.

  I rest my cages on the ground. “We’ll plant the new traps after we return the animals to the field lab.”

  Anger flashes in Elliot’s eyes. “Have you already forgotten who the team lead is?”

  “How would that be possible? You’re constantly reminding us,” I retort.

  Elliot steps close so he can look down at me. “So then why are you trying to give the orders?”

  I remain calm and refuse to let him rile me. “We’re not that far from the lab and these animals are hungry and dehydrated. It makes more sense to drop them off, give them some water, and then take care of the remaining traps.” I look around and see most of the team is nodding their agreement.

  “If you’re not physically up to your job just say so,” he snaps. “We can go back to the lab first, but don’t expect to make a habit of it.”

  I ignore him and start toward the lab. The end result is what matters.

  As soon as we arrive, Elliot sits down and leans his chair back on its rear legs.

  “Gabby, get lunch,” he barks. I have an irresistible urge to sweep my foot and knock the chair out from under him. As if reading my thoughts Jake steps between the two of us and gives me a warning look.

  I water and attempt to feed the animals while everyone else eats lunch. I’m unfamiliar with a few of the newly acquired animals and can only guess what to feed them, but unlike the zoo, my food selection here is limited. Elliot really isn’t interested in keeping them fed an
d healthy. He doesn’t need them alive to dissect them. At least the zoo animals were spared from dissection. Maybe I can do something about these animals.

  “I have some bugs if you need them.” Ryan shakes the container in his hands. Judging by the dirt on his fingernails, he’s just collected them.

  “Thanks. Can you try giving some to the hairy lizard?”

  “Sure.” He takes a grub-like bug with a pair of tweezers and holds it just inside the cage. The lizard’s long, orange tongue darts out and snatches the grub. “You called that one right.”

  “Yeah, not that it will make that much difference. Elliot will slice it open the first chance he gets.” I take the container and try to feed a weird-looking gray blob.

  “I’m over Kelly now,” Ryan says.

  “That’s good,” I respond. I haven’t been alone with Ryan since the night of the dinner party. Truth be told, I’ve been avoiding him – scared to discover his feeling for Kelly are real.

  “I sat through an entire dinner with her, and didn’t feel an ounce of attraction.” There’s a treble in his voice that I assume is anger.

  I avoid looking at Ryan and instead jiggle the tweezers around trying to entice a response from the blob. I should have told him about the pods before we even got to the base. Just how do you tell someone they’ve been locking lips with the wrong person because you didn’t share important information with them?

  Ryan feeds a second grub to the hairy green lizard and sighs. “I figured you should know.”He tosses his tweezers on the counter and faces me. “

  A loud slurp brings our attention to the gray blob. “I guess the little guy was hungry. He ate the worm—tweezers and all. I still have no idea where his mouth is though.”

  Blurp.

  “Gross, I guess that’s the mouth, or the other end.” Ryan reaches in with his tweezers and picks up the worm the blob just spit out. “But what did it do with the tweezers?”