by Ann M. Noser
I collapse onto the cold, hard floor, silent tears spilling into my hands.
Gus follows me into the hallway, sits down next to me, and puts an arm around my back.
“There now. Cry all you want.”
I lean into him and sob harder than ever before. I don’t remember crying this hard for my dad. Probably because it took me so long to realize he really wasn’t coming back. With Liam dead, and Franco off to do something crazy, I feel all the bad at once. Every person I’ve ever truly cared about—with the exception of Mom and Gus—has been ripped away from me. The pain in my chest in overpowering.
“Get it all out.” Gus pats my shoulder. “We still have to process the body.”
I tense.
“I’m sorry, but it has to be done.”
“I can’t—”
“It’s the only way to figure out what happened to him.”
I suck in deep, shaky breaths. Yes, we need to find the cause of his death. The reason the New Order lied about him going to Argos.
I sit up, clench my jaw, and wipe my eyes. “Let’s get started. I need to know the truth.”
An hour later, I know four things:
Liam was alive this morning.
His lungs have been removed.
His birth control capsule was empty.
According to the evening news report, Representative Nielsen is recovering nicely from lung transplant surgery performed earlier today.
rush up the hospital stairs, heart pounding, throw open the door, and gasp for air. But it’s no use—I can still smell Liam’s dead body, his liver, his blood.
Glaring streetlights make a false day of night and block out every star. Even at this late hour, the streets still teem with life. All the worker ants hurrying to and from their places of employment.
The New Order feeds off its citizens twenty-four hours a day. Always taking whatever it wants. Babies. Organs. Whatever they want, they take.
And they give so little in return. Just enough to keep our hopes up. Just enough to make us try harder, give more, with empty promises that we can get ahead.
That’s what Liam wanted. That was his dream.
And, in return, the New Order cut his life into little pieces and fed them to the Representatives.
My mind fills with painful pictures.
Liam. His pale body in the blue lights of the mortuary.
His blond hair on the table. His feet lifeless, wrinkled, and cold.
Franco’s face when he saw Liam on the gurney with a fresh incision down his chest.
My stomach heaves, and I fall to my knees, gagging in front of the hospital for all the cameras to see. But I no longer care. Did they show me Liam’s dead body as a warning? Or a threat? Are they trying to push me over the edge again? There has to be a reason for this. I can’t believe it’s an accident his body ended up here.
I rise to my feet, gulp in metallic air, and brush away the tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I’ve got to keep it together, or they’ll come for me next.
I finally know the truth, and it hurts even more than the lies.
My feet fly over to Franco’s apartment even faster than on race day. Some force pushes my finger on the elevator buttons and empties me on his floor. My steps clatter down the hushed, empty hallway to his door.
I knock, my legs trembling beneath me. They don’t even feel like they belong to me anymore. Nothing does. Everything I have, everything I am, belongs to the New Order. At least, that’s what they think.
I knock again. Silence. Nothing but silence from inside his apartment. Why isn’t he home? Where is he? How is he?
I jump when the door three apartments down swings opens. I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. It’s obvious Franco’s not home. Why did I even come here? He’s probably with Linda and the kids.
As I turn to leave, the door handle to Franco’s apartment shudders and turns. The door creaks open slowly. Franco and I stare at each other.
He sighs. “Silvia, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see if you’re okay.” My hands clench.
“I’m fine.” His voice is wooden and gravelly like his throat has been scratched raw with sorrow.
“No, you’re not. Your eyes are bloodshot. Your hair’s a mess.” He’s not wearing a shirt, either, which is rather distracting, even now.
“What does it all matter?” He runs his hands through his nest of hair, his voice cold and empty. “It doesn’t. Nothing matters anymore.”
His slumped shoulders and dead eyes convince me to make a move.
“I’m coming in,” I say.
“Suit yourself.” He backs up and lets me pass.
His place is a disaster. Papers, clothes, and food everywhere. He plops down on the couch, and that’s when I smell it—booze. There are bottles all over, empty, tipped on their sides.
“You’ve been drinking?” I gasp. “I didn’t know you drank. Where’d you even get this stuff?”
Franco shrugs. “I just started. But what do you care? Why should anyone care what I do anymore?”
“I care.” My gaze catches on another drawing of the pony-tailed girl. Not the same picture as before. But perhaps the object is the same.
I grab the sheet and discover that the pony-tailed girl is me.
She’s definitely me.
My breath catches in my throat. Why did I have to find this out right now?
“Why should you care? You don’t even know who I am.” Franco drops onto the couch. “Nobody does. It’s better that way. But I’m not holding back anymore. I’m taking it all down. Everything. The whole city of Panopticus—where there is Liberty and Justice for none.”
“What are you talking about?” He’s talking crazy again. I set down the picture. It doesn’t matter right now.
Franco’s dark eyes hide something dangerous under the surface. “Never mind. You’re innocent. Just like Liam. Neither of you have any idea what happened to your fathers.”
I sit next to him on the couch. “What do you know about my dad?”
But it’s like he can’t hear me. “None of you know the truth. I wanted to tell Liam when he was old enough, but Linda wouldn’t let me.” He hides his face in his hands.
“You can tell me.” I scoot closer. “Linda doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
He scoffs. “That’s how little you know. She has everything to do with you.”
I put a hand on his arm. I’m torn between shaking the truth about my dad out of him and grabbing him to force his lips to mine. Maybe then he’d stop panicking for a second.
“Tell me,” I beg. “Please.”
He drops his hands and glares. “Why are you here anyway? Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
I narrow my eyes but keep my voice calm. “I was worried about you. Now, tell me about my dad.” I move even closer to him, trying to ignore the fresh smell of his skin. He must’ve recently showered.
Franco slides further away down the couch, increasing the space between us. “Silvia, you should be at home with your mom where you belong.”
“Franco, I’ll go home once you tell me what you know.”
He shakes his head, seeming at war with himself, then his eyes widen and he grabs my arms in a frenzy. “No, don’t go home. They’ll find you there. You’d better escape. Now. Go far away from here.” His eyes are wild, unrecognizable.
My heart races. He’s crazy. He’s absolutely nuts. “What are you talking about?”
“Go,” Franco insists. “Run away before they take you, too.”
My stomach drops with sick fear. “Who, the Suits? Why do you think they’ll come for me?”
Franco loosens his grip on my arms. His eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t protect him. I promised Jack I would.”
“Liam’s father? When did you—”
“What if you’re next?” He points at me. “What if something happens to you?”
I cross my arms. “I can take care of myself.”
<
br /> He turns away. “You should go. I don’t want you seeing me like this.”
I take a deep breath, glance back at the door, and consider leaving Franco alone with his crazy talk.
But I can’t. Because something in my gut tells me Franco isn’t simply paranoid.
“I’m not leaving.”
Franco sighs. “Why are you here? You should hate me. You should go home.”
“Don’t be stupid. I don’t hate you.”
He shakes his head. “You might, if you knew—”
“Knew what? What are you talking about?”
He looks me straight in the eyes. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot,” I snarl—and then gasp. Did I really say that out loud?
Neither of us blinks.
My heart beats so hard it might break my ribs.
My lungs breathe in booze-tinged air, making my mind dizzy. The skin on my arms still burns from his touch.
He pushes me back on the couch. He’s sprawled on top. The warmth of his skin radiates through my scrubs.
His hands are in my hair, on my face, touching me everywhere at once. I can’t keep track.
His lips are on mine. I follow his every lead.
My eager hands explore his hair, his face, his skin.
His breath flutters on my cheek. White sparkles dance before my clouded eyes. I can’t see anything. I can’t hear anything. I can only feel his skin on mine.
Please don’t stop. Let this go on forever.
His hands travel downward. One tugs the leg of my scrubs halfway up my calf. His other is on my thigh. It becomes impossible for me to focus. The real world has gone fuzzy and distant.
“Stop!” Franco rips his lips off mine and jerks away, flattening himself against the far end of the sofa. “What are we doing?”
“What’s wrong?” My voice sounds small and child-like.
He lurches to his feet and stumbles away from the couch. “Go away, Silvia! You shouldn’t be here. Go home!”
My eyes burn. “Why? I want to be here. I want to be with you.”
“No. You can’t.” He pauses in the doorway. “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re just a kid. This is wrong.”
“I’m not a kid!” I stand, my legs weak and untrustworthy.
“You don’t know the truth. I’ve done things you’d never forgive. I even hired the guy on the bike to run down Liam to stop him from racing.”
“You did what?” I want to yell at Franco, but his face crumbles.
“I only did it to protect him.” His voice cracks. “I knew it wasn’t safe to get their attention.”
“But you hurt him.”
“I’d do anything to protect my family. Anything. Even if it hurts.” Franco averts his gaze, retreating into the back hallway, calling his last words over his shoulder. “Just go. Please.”
I brace myself on the closest chair. The world spins, and nothing makes sense anymore. I glance toward the hallway to Franco’s bedroom. He won’t come back until I’m gone.
I’m not about to follow him. Not tonight. Not after what happened to Liam.
I turn to leave and again spot the picture of me on the table. After a tiny moment of hesitation, I fold it in half and take it with me out the door.
The walk home takes forever. My mind spins like crazy. Why does Franco say I would hate him if I knew the truth? I don’t hate him for what he did to Liam, even if I don’t agree with it. But I still think he’s hiding something. What does he know about my father?
Eventually, I reach my apartment building, head up the steps, and slip my key in the lock at our door.
It swings open before I even turn the key.
The apartment is filled with voices.
“Oh, you’re here!” Mom pulls me in from the hallway, her face filled up with light. “You won’t believe what’s happened. It’s so wonderful!”
She hugs my shoulders as she leads me toward the voices.
I stiffen. Our living room is filled with Suits.
“Oh, honey!” Mom hugs me tight. “Isn’t it wonderful? You’ve been Chosen!”
My stomach drops, and my hands fall open.
Franco’s drawing falls to the floor.
He was right.
They’ve come for me already.
hat am I going to do?
How do I get out of this?
“No. I’m not going with you.” I tear out of Mom’s grasp and back away from the Suits.
“Silvia, what are you doing?” Mom gapes. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“It’s not what you think it is, Mom.” My voice shakes. “I know what happens to those who get Chosen. I work in the Mortuary.”
Mom pales and collapses on the nearest wall. I flashback to the night Dad died. It’s going to happen all over again. No matter what I do, I can’t save her from herself.
A Suit approaches. “Silvia Wood, there’s no reason to be unpleasant. This is an honor for someone in your position. You should be grateful. It’s your chance to do something good for society.”
“You ask too much,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
“Let’s not upset your mother. You know how fragile she is.” He grips my arm so hard; I know I’ll develop bruises tomorrow.
If I’m still alive.
The Suits encircle me, forcing me out of the living room.
I reach back for my mother. She’s still leaning against the wall. The light in her eyes is fading. I can’t be this helpless. There must be something I can do. If not for me, then at least for her. She’s got to get angry, wake up, not just fade away again with no one to take care of her. She’ll die, too, if I don’t do something.
As the Suits drag me through the kitchen, I grab a teacup and smash it upside down on the counter.
Mom’s eyes rise from the carpet. They flash and catch mine.
Save yourself, is my unspoken message. I will her to understand.
She nods.
The Suits yank me around the corner, toward the front door. A sharp pain jabs my right arm. I watch the syringe pull away and know they’ve got me now. They march me down the hall, toward the elevator. I can’t help but glance behind us. As if Franco might come and save me.
But my legs have turned to jelly and fail completely as we enter the elevator.
The lights black out before I can even start to fight.
I wake to the soft clink of metal on metal.
I’m so tired. Better go back to sleep. I hope it’s not time to get up for work yet.
Something shakes my arm.
“Silvia,” Gus’s gruff voice whispers in my ear. “Can you hear me?”
My eyes flutter open and then closed. “What’s up? Is it morning, yet?”
“Hold still. I’ll get you out of this,” he promises. “Don’t make a sound.”
I try to move my arms and realize that I’m handcuffed to a gurney.
Panicking, I start to flail.
Gus pushes my shoulders back down on the bed. “Stay calm and lie still. I slipped a sedative in the guard’s drink, muffled the microphones, and hijacked the cameras, but we have to hurry before they catch on.”
They. The Suits. The New Order.
They’re all out to get me.
I’m not pregnant with Liam’s love child, presumably for the New Order Representative who looked just like me, so they’ve probably sold my internal organs instead. Because to them I am merely disposable goods.
Now, I’m both angry and scared. I have to escape before they kill me, so I can figure out how I’m going to kill them instead.
Wait a minute. How did Gus know I was here? What’s his plan? What’s going on?
“Gus,” I whisper, holding as still as I can, “How did you know I was here?”
“I’ll tell you everything, but right now there’s no time. I’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?”
The first handcuff releases wi
th a clink against the hospital bed.
Gus hurries to the other side to work the other lock. “Someday, I expect I will get in a whole heck of a lot of trouble, but I don’t care about that anymore. I’d rather be killed for doing the right thing then die inside by turning the other cheek.”
The second handcuff opens, and I rub my wrists. Gus helps me off the gurney. My legs are weak, but I manage to stand.
“Hurry. Put these on.” Gus pulls out some scrubs from a large bag slung over his shoulder. “And give me back your hospital gown.”
When I switch outfits, Gus slips the robe over a long pillow and carefully arranges it to look like a body under the sheet.
“Let’s go.” He covers his face with a surgical mask and hands me another one along with a scrub hat to hide my hair.
We tuck out into the dimly-lit hallway, checking each corner and ducking around every camera we can. We scurry to the back stairway where Gus has somehow managed to turn out all the lights. He hands me a flashlight, and down we go, all the way to Mortuary Sciences.
The gurneys are all lined up and ready to go to the Incinerator.
One is empty.
Gus hands me a black body bag. “This one’s yours.”
’m sorry, Silvia.” Gus points at the gurney. “There’s no time to explain. You have to trust me.”
Shaking, I climb onto the gurney, slip into the body bag, and watch the room disappear as Gus zips it over my head.
“Don’t move or talk,” Gus warns. “The Handlers will be here soon.”
Metal carts clang together.
Papers shuffle.
Body bags rustle.
I’m in the middle of one of the triple-wide gurneys Gus hates so much.
The gurney creaks and shudders, and then I’m sandwiched between two, cold, dead bodies, one on either side.
“I’m sorry, but it’s the only way,” Gus whispers under his breath.
The back door opens with a bang.
“You ready to go?” hollers a Handler.
