by Kyle Andrews
Bey was not an easygoing man. He was not soft and gentle. He was more than a little bit intimidating to Libby. But he was on her side. He was her advocate when it came to dealing with HAND. Whether he liked her personally or not, she didn't really care.
“We need to get going,” Bey told her as he walked back into the room. “It's a long walk down those stairs and I'm not as young as I used to be.”
Libby nodded and stood, ready to follow whatever orders he gave her. Normally, she might tell him that he'd done enough and she could take it from there. She didn't like involving other people in her business. She didn't want to feel guilty for making a man with a limp walk down so many stairs.
Her instinct was to keep people at a distance and to watch out for herself. It always worked for her in the past, but she was beginning to see the flaws in that philosophy. Like that line in the pledge said: 'For city, for nation, for all.' A person can't survive by themselves. They need their community. They need someone to feed them and care for them. They need other citizens—even strangers—to keep an eye out for potential threats to their lives. She'd never had a problem allowing the system to work. Now she needed to apply those beliefs on a more personal level.
It sounded easier than it was. As they walked toward the door, Bey was behind her. It made her uncomfortable. She felt like he could push her down the stairs if he wanted to. But those were irrational fears and she needed to put them aside.
Sim walked with them through the door and into the hallway. He was behind Bey, and that reassured Libby. He was the one person in the world that she loved. The one person that she could trust.
“You can't come with us,” Bey said, turning to Sim as they reached the door to the stairwell.
“I told you, I'm going,” Sim replied, firmly. Libby turned around just in time to see Sim glaring at Bey. He didn't seem intimidated at all.
Bey clenched his jaw. He looked as though he wanted to yell at Sim, but he was not the type of man who would want to make a scene.
Rather than yell, Bey slowly and firmly said, “You can't come with us. You know why.”
“I don't care,” Sim pressed. “I love her. I won't leave her.”
Bey nodded and then turned to Libby. He asked her, “Do you love him?”
The words got caught in her throat. It was one thing to declare her love to Sim, but to share her feelings with the world was something else entirely. All she could muster was a small nod.
“Good,” Bey told her. “So imagine what this does to him when the press catches onto it. The same way they caught onto your relationship with your cousin. They'll poke. They'll question. They'll push themselves into his life until they can be sure that he has nothing to do with Hate. Then, when it's all done, how will he be remembered by the people? I'll tell you. He'll be remembered as the suspected member of Hate. Whether he was guilty or not won't even matter.”
She knew that he was talking about Sim here, but Libby found Bey's words to be unnerving. If this was what he thought would happen to Sim, what did he really think was going to happen to her? Was there any way for her to escape being labeled as a suspected terrorist?
Bey went on, “Imagine his future. Everything he's worked for. Everything that he's wanted for as long as he could dream, all thrown away. His record will list him as a suspected member of Hate. All because of a relationship with a girl that he never even slept with.”
The last line was like a bucket of ice water being thrown at her. How did Bey know what she and Sim did and did not do? Why did it matter? And the way he said it... Was this the reason for Bey not approving of Sim seeing a 'girl like her'?
She saw a look of anger flash across Sim's face, and watched as he prepared to say something to Bey that would likely get him yelled at even more. Libby wanted him to say it, but she caught Sim's eye and shook her head at him. He had to drop it. There were bigger issues to deal with now.
Libby didn't have to worry about her own future or how any of this would impact her career. The way the system had viewed her and her mother so far, it was likely that she would be sent to work in a grungy old factory, making cheap stuffed animals for foreign kids. She was never going to get high-level employment.
Sim was different. He had a chance to be something better than her. He was strong and smart. He was a star athlete. They brought him into their search for the graffiti artist. They fed him pizza. He was destined for something greater. She couldn't let him throw that away.
His eyes were locked with hers, silently arguing with her. He didn't want to leave her to deal with this on her own. He would have done it without a second thought. That was what made her love him, but it would be his downfall if she allowed it to happen.
“You need to stay here,” she told him, even though it went against everything that was screaming inside of her.
“I'm not letting you do this alone,” Sim argued.
“I'm not. Because of you, I have help. The only thing that'll happen if you come with me is that you'll mess up your own life. If you stay here, I can clear this up and come back in a few days. Nobody will care about me. They will care about you.”
Sim's eyes met Bey's once again. Libby could tell that he didn't like the idea of Bey taking her away without him. There wasn't just worry in Sim's eyes. There was anger and distrust.
She stared at Sim, feeling a sense of dread building in her stomach. His doubts became her doubts and she once again began to wonder if this was the right thing to do. But it was far too late for second guesses. Sim trusted Bey when he made the call, and Bey knew what he was doing. She would have to rely on that, rather than fall prey to her own fear.
“It's okay,” she told Sim, trying to force a smile onto her face. “I'll call you when I'm done there.”
The anger lifted from his eyes as he looked at her. Now he was just concerned. He reached out and and she put her hand in his.
As he held onto it, he smiled and said, “You'll be fine. Just do whatever they say.”
Libby nodded and promised, “I will. And you try not to punch people in the face when you hear them talking about me.”
Sim shrugged and said, “No promises.”
She let go of his hand and started to walk. If she turned around and took one more look at him, the knot in her stomach would tighten to the point of making her throw up, so she kept her eyes on the stairs ahead of her.
The door closed behind her and she could hear Bey keeping up with her in spite of his limp. He walked these stairs often enough to move quickly, without getting exhausted along the way. Libby wondered if that's why Sim's family was sent to live in that building. She wondered if it all somehow played into his extracurriculars and keeping him fit. Even his going home at night was one last chance to have him work out before bed.
Libby kept herself occupied with that thought for a while, as she and Bey made their way downward. In her mind, the housing system, the school system and the food system grew into one all-powerful entity, controlling the lives of the people. But she couldn't think that way. Those departments were run by different branches of the government. They most likely had nothing to do with each other. The building was probably just the right distance from the hospital where Sim's father worked, or something like that.
“You're quiet,” Bey said, once they'd put ten floors between them and Sim.
“Thinking,” Libby told him.
“About?”
Libby shrugged and told him, “Just crazy rambling thoughts.”
“You were smart back there. Telling him what you did. To think of his future and what this could do to him.”
“It was the truth. He shouldn't be involved if he doesn't have to be.”
“You couldn't have come to that conclusion months ago?”
Libby wanted to answer the question, but she couldn't. It took her a moment or two for the implication to seep in and for her to realize that Bey was accusing her of something.
As she reached a landing between floors, Libby stopped
walking and turned around. She looked at Bey with confusion in her eyes, not even knowing how to ask him the question that was in her mind.
“Don't look so innocent,” he said, in a perfectly calm and even tone.
“I am innocent.”
Bey cocked his head and looked her in the eye, as though he were trying to see something inside of her. His eyes narrowed. She couldn't tell if he'd found what he was looking for or not, but it didn't matter. He told her, “I spoke with my boss at HAND.”
“Don't you mean your former boss?”
He ignored her question and said, “I know that they're not just looking to question you. They have something on you. Something... important.”
“I...” Libby didn't even know how to finish that thought. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Don't worry. I'll tell Sim that you're fine. Maybe they relocated your family to another city, so you could get a fresh start and your mother could get the treatment she needs.”
She stared at Bey for several seconds, trying to think of something to say. There had to have been some argument that she could make for herself. She could have once again insisted that she was not a member of Freedom, but nothing she said would help her cause.
Instead, she ran.
She ran as fast as she could down the stairs, holding onto the handrail as she went, because she felt like she was going to fall flat on her face at any moment.
She could hear Bey's footsteps behind her. Whatever injury had caused his limp was apparently not severe enough to keep him from chasing a teenage girl down a flight of stairs. He was fast. Libby could practically feel his hand grabbing onto her shirt and pulling her to the ground. The idea of it forced her to move faster, skipping two or three steps at a time as she went.
In her mind, she kept repeating to herself 'I'm innocent. I'm innocent,' over and over again, trying to plead her case, if only to herself. There had to be a way for an innocent person to prove herself to the authorities, but it was seeming more and more as though she would not be given that chance.
As they reached the second floor landing, Bey reached Libby. He put his hand on her shoulder and shoved her into the wall. All of her momentum went into that impact. She slammed her head against the door that led to the second floor hallway. She screamed as Bey grabbed her hair and pulled her head back with one hand, and twisted her left arm behind her back with the other.
“You're under arrest,” he whispered in her ear.
28
“I didn't do anything,” Libby cried as Bey pulled her hair back. “I didn't! I'll tell them! I'll explain!”
She couldn't see Bey's face, but she could hear him releasing the sort of huffy exhale that told her that he was smiling. He told her, “It was never about your explanations. They never wanted to talk to you.”
“I don't understand. You told me that you could help me.”
“I told Sim what he needed to hear. Now, move.”
Bey pushed Libby toward the stairs. With her head pulled back and her arm twisted behind her, she could barely take a step, and she couldn't see the path in front of her. She felt like she was going to slip and her arm would be broken by Bey in the process. But she didn't have a choice, so she walked.
“Please, tell me why you're arresting me. I didn't do anything,” she pleaded.
“You know damn well.”
“I don't! I told you everything that I know!”
“And your body language as you told me confirmed that you were hiding something.”
“I wasn't. Uly was the member of Hate. Not me.”
“I don't believe you.”
Bey pushed Libby down to the ground floor, keeping her incapacitated and not saying another word about her arrest. It was right as they reached the door to leave the stairwell that she realized why he wasn't saying anything else.
“Open the door,” he told her.
She didn't do what he said. Instead, she said, “You don't know, do you? You have no idea why you're doing what you're doing. You have no idea why they want me.”
“I know enough. Open the door,” he pulled on her arm and pain shot through her shoulder. She expected to hear it pop, but it didn't.
Libby put her hand on the door and started to pull it open, but stopped herself. She told him, “If they want me, it's not because I'm a terrorist. I have nothing to do with Freedom. I have nothing to do with any of this.”
Bey smirked, “See what you did there? You called them Freedom.”
Crap. She did. The severity of that mistake made her instantly cold. She wanted to scream and fight and run, all at the same time, but she could barely move.
Libby held the door closed and tried to explain, “That's what Uly called them!”
“I don't really care. You can fight and cry all you want, but at the end of the day, I have a job to do. I'm going to do it.”
“I'm not opening the door.”
Bey pulled her away from the door and threw her into a wall. She managed to turn her head just in time to avoid having her nose shattered, but that didn't stop the side of her face from smacking into the cold, painted cinder block wall with enough force to send a shock wave through to the other side of her head. She couldn't help by groan as she felt blood dripping down the side of her face.
Bey opened the door to the lobby and then shoved Libby through it. She fell to the ground in the lobby and didn't allow herself any time to feel the pain of her face or arm. She needed to run.
Blood dripped into her right eye, stinging it. She clawed at the ground, trying to pull herself up, but Bey walked up behind her and put his boot on her back. He pushed her back down again and said, “Why don't we just wait here until they come to get you?”
If it had been the police that he called, they probably would have been there already. HAND offices were on the other side of town. Most of them were looking for Collin Powers. She had a bit more time because of this, but not much. If she was going to escape, she needed to think of some way of doing it.
Libby turned and grabbed Bey's leg. She tried to twist it and send him to the ground, but he didn't fall. He simply planted his foot on the ground beside her and laughed.
She tried to punch him as hard as she could between the legs, but he grabbed her fist and twisted, sending another sharp pain through her arm and causing her to scream.
It was hopeless. She wasn't a fighter or a rebel. She was just a girl who had gotten mixed up in something that she didn't even understand.
Bey pulled a small knife from his belt and pointed it at Libby. He told her, “You're going to stay put. Do you understand me?”
She couldn't form words through the pain. Instead, Libby nodded her answer and Bey released her arm. She fell to the ground.
He took a few steps, remaining close beside her. He didn't seem to be able to stand still. There was adrenaline pumping through him. He was ready for a fight, but all he had in front of him was a teenage girl who had, on occasion, been completely incapacitated by walking through a spider web.
That didn't stop him from kicking her in the side, just for the heck of it. When he did this, all the air left Libby. She curled up and gasped for breath.
“You people make me sick,” Bey told her.
“I'm not one of them!” she screamed, feeling as though she were going to burst into tears as she did, but she fought them back.
“Tell me why they want you,” Bey insisted. “What did you do?”
“I didn't do anything!”
He knelt down beside her and put the knife to her neck, once again asking, “What did you do?”
“Nothing!”
Bey moved the knife to Libby's arm and drove it in. The pain was unbearable, but she had screamed as much as she could scream for one day. When she tried, all that came out was a squeak, followed by weeping.
When he pulled the knife back out, it hurt just as bad. He asked her again, “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” she said, this time whispered. “I'm i
nnocent.”
“I don't believe you.”
“You should. She's telling the truth.”
That last voice was familiar to Libby, but she couldn't place it. Through the pain and the tears, she couldn't bring herself to look toward the front door, where the male voice came from.
Bey looked up just as the deep, thunderous barking of a dog filled the lobby. Libby's mind immediately went to the black lab who had been following her through the alleys.
She watched as Bey's eyes widened and he stood up, preparing for attack. In a blur of motion, Bey was tackled and brought to the ground, where he began to wrestle with his attacker.
To Libby's surprise, the attacker wasn't the dog. It was Justin. She watched as he struggled with Bey, until the black lab approached her and began to lick her eyes.
She pulled herself up, pushing the dog away, but it seemed determined to lick her. Its tail was wagging as though this whole thing were a game to it.
Meanwhile, Justin and Bey were throwing punches. There was a small pool of blood near them, which Libby noticed as soon as she got to her feet. She didn't know whose blood it was or who was winning the fight.
As much as she wanted to help Justin, she didn't know how. All she could manage to do was stand by and watch as he put his own life on the line to defend her.
The dog, meanwhile, nudged its nose under Libby's hand and insisted that she pet it. It was almost as useless in this fight as she was.
Justin was not as untrained as Libby. He was in many of the same extracurriculars as Uly. The same as Sim, for that matter, though he never stood out quite as much as either of them. He knew how to fight. She'd seen him do it in school-sponsored events, so Libby believed that he had a chance against Bey. At least, she hoped that he did.
Bey rolled on top of Justin and began throwing punches toward Justin's face. He was relentless, but Justin blocked the attack.
The knife was nowhere to be seen. Libby looked from Bey's hands to Justin's, but she couldn't find it. The longer the fight went on, the more she worried. HAND officers would be there soon. If they didn't get out of there, Justin would be arrested right along with her. The thought of that made her even more desperate.
