Sinless

by Sarah Tarkoff

  On the side of the road, I saw a little shack with a guard sitting out front, rifle in hand. He watched the truck as we rolled by. I realized I was staring at him, wondered if my expression conveyed the fear that was trembling through me. I quickly averted my eyes and tried to appear nonchalant as we rumbled past.

  We arrived at another rustic-looking building. The architecture, mixed with the idyllic scenery, gave off a strange summer-camp vibe. Owen hopped out, calling out to Jude, “Unload the truck.” He still wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

  Owen headed off, and Jude told me he was going to disable the security systems, so we could gain access to the cells. That left Jude and me to corral the scientists and get them to the meeting point without being discovered. Easier said than done. As we started unloading the boxes of produce that were our cover, I felt a rush of adrenaline. There was no turning back now.

  I took a deep breath as we stepped into the homey lobby of the building—hardly a high-tech-lab setting, from the looks of it. More like a kitschy, woodsy retreat. Plaid couches in the waiting room, a fireplace in the corner. Security cameras blinked ominously on every wall. We passed a woman in a stiff black uniform. “Kitchen?” Jude asked her.

  “Down the hall to your left,” she said with a warm smile. When she glanced at me though, her expression darkened. It seemed the employees here still believed that beauty and goodness were one and the same. My near-Outcast disguise might have gotten me inside, but it wouldn’t win me anyone’s trust now that I was here.

  As we made our way toward the kitchen, I struggled under the weight of the box I was carrying but tried not to show it. This was my “profession” after all—I had to look the part. I handed off the produce with a smile to the other kitchen workers, who gave me similarly disgusted looks. But after a couple dozen trips, sweating an embarrassing amount, I couldn’t help looking tired. Jude noticed. “It’s almost time,” he said, eyeing the clock on the wall. I looked around at all the workers milling about. I couldn’t understand how we were ever going to sneak away.

  And then—“Troops! Morning meeting.” I watched as everyone but Jude and me gathered around a woman in a trim black suit.

  “Let’s go,” Jude whispered, pulling me by the arm out into the hallway. Where we were finally alone.

  He tossed something at me—a stiff black uniform, like the other workers had been wearing. I hastily threw it on over my other clothes, as Jude did the same. The thick material hung off of me, clearly made for someone twice my size. I looked ridiculous. But Jude was already heading down the hall, so I hiked up my pants, pushed up my sleeves, and jogged after him.

  I tried not to look at the security cameras eyeing us from every wall as we rounded corner after corner. Jude had this place memorized, and I followed blindly behind him. Finally, we reached a big, heavy metal door. It seemed different from the rest of this place—more secure. There were secrets hidden behind it, I could tell just by looking at it.

  Jude quickly entered a number on the keypad next to it, then pulled on the handle with all his weight . . .

  And standing on the other side was a guard, wearing a uniform like ours. He eyed us, putting a hand on the gun at his hip. “Are you new?”

  “Yeah, we’re training,” Jude said.

  “Can I see your badges?” the guard asked.

  “I’ve got them right here,” Jude said, reaching into his pocket. And then, lightning fast, Jude punched the guy in the jaw, and he collapsed to the floor. I stifled a scream, as Jude stoically hopped over the guard. I looked down—the guy was unconscious. “Grace!” Jude hissed, and I ran after him.

  Chapter 9

  I felt nauseous. Who was this version of the boy I loved, who could take out an armed guard with a single punch? I knew he’d become tougher since he’d disappeared, but I hadn’t imagined him as a fighter.

  “He’s not dead,” Jude reassured me, reading the horror in my expression. I nodded, though I didn’t want to imagine how injured that guard would be when he woke up. I’d wanted to ally myself to the most moral side in this conflict. If this was what Jude had become after two years, how would fighting for Dawn transform me?

  Jude pulled me down a stairwell, into the high-ceilinged, dank basement of the building. We walked across a catwalk overlooking rows and rows of cells that were more like cages—bars on every side. Thousands of people were crammed in here together. Their voices buzzed below us in a low, miserable hum. “Follow me,” Jude said.

  We found a bank of switches, thousands of them, all along a wall, all numbered. “These unlock the cells,” Jude whispered. “We just have to wait for Owen to take out the security system.”

  I nodded, shaking, nervous. “What happens if he can’t do it?” Jude’s silence made me think he was worried about that, too.

  I looked down at the rows of cells and saw a few people dressed in black strolling between them. Guards. I pointed them out. “Is that a problem? Those guards?”

  “When the security goes down, we’ll create a diversion.”

  But as the minutes wore on, I began to get nervous. It seemed like something wasn’t going according to plan. I could tell Jude was unsettled, too. I tried to think, tried to come up with some alternative. “I could create the diversion now,” I suggested. “And you could get the others . . .”

  Jude shook his head, interrupting. “The moment we open the doors to the outside, we’ll trip an alarm. There’s no way you can distract every guard on the whole compound.”

  “There’s gotta be some other way.”

  Jude considered. And as he was considering, the lights went out.

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “Someone cut the power,” he whispered back. Not the plan, I could tell from his voice.

  “Was it Owen?” I asked.

  “If it wasn’t, we’re screwed anyway.” He handed me a flashlight. “Hold this for me.” I did. He pulled out a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers written on it and methodically started flipping the switches that matched those numbers. After a moment, he double-checked his work. Then he moved to another section of the wall and flipped ten more switches, all numbers preceded by “C.” He pointed to the ten. “These guys are all on that block on the right. C Block. Send them out that far right door. We’re not trying to rescue them; they’re the diversion. They’ll run right past the guard station, and the guards will spend their time trying to catch them, while we sneak out the back.” I nodded.

  We watched as the guards moved—it was like a chess game, waiting for them to disappear into just the right row, one with no prisoners we needed to rescue. Jude watched, waited. Then—“Go, go now.”

  I tiptoed down the catwalk stairs, trying to avoid making any sounds. Eerie green emergency lighting glowed in the aisles between the cells, and I could see half-silhouetted faces peeking out at me from behind the bars.

  A big guy leered in my direction. “Hey. You. Wanna come pray with me? Bet you’ve got a pretty face under there.” These people, the ones still locked in the cells—they must not be scientists, I realized, since Jude hadn’t freed them. I wondered what they were doing here, why we weren’t rescuing them. I ducked my head, away from their curious looks and prodding insults.

  I got to C Block. “Hey, lady, I think I need a little discipline,” an older man jeered at me. I looked at the number above his cell—it was one of the ones Jude had unlocked. Great. I pulled the door open then stepped back, nervous about what this guy might do as a freed man.

  “I’m here to rescue you,” I told him quietly. “Run out the doors to your right. Down the corridor, you’ll get to the other end of the building. You don’t have much time—go now.” The guy took another look at me. I wondered if he sensed the lie, the trap I was leading him into. He took a step forward, as I took another back. And then he hurried off down the corridor I’d directed him to.

  I freed another man, then another. As the prisoners’ footsteps echoed softer and softer, I heard another set
of footsteps approaching. A guard, heading my direction.

  He hadn’t seen me yet. I quickly stepped into an open cell and closed the door, watching the guard roam up and down my aisle, peering in at all of us. I turned my head, trying to disappear into the shadows, hoping the guard wouldn’t recognize that I wasn’t one of his prisoners, that I was wearing the same black uniform he was. “We’ve got nine missing down here,” the guard called out. More guards swarmed into the row, and I stared steadfastly at the floor.

  “Who let them out?”

  “Must be part of the power failure.”

  The guard pulled on a set of bars nearby. “These ones are still locked though.” The guards pulled on bars all down the row. Approaching mine.

  As one guard approached my cell, he paused. Turned away from me. “I’ll go reset the locks.” He headed toward the catwalk, never checking my cell. I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t leave yet, not while there were still guards patrolling my aisle, but I had a moment of respite.

  “So what’s wrong with me?” the prisoner next to me asked. I dared not make eye contact, dared not encourage him further. If the guards overheard, they might guess I was the intruder. But he continued, “You like Fredricks and Bogart better than me? You don’t wanna rescue me? Come on, answer . . .”

  That voice . . . I looked up. And I almost fainted. There in the cell next to me was Ciaran.

  Chapter 10

  I tried to recover from the shock. And I thought back—had I actually seen Ciaran dead? No, I’d just heard the gunshot, seen him go down from far away, in the dark, and assumed . . . but here he was. Staring right at me. Turns out I hadn’t been lying to his parents after all.

  Did he recognize me? Not in the wig, not with my face like this. But he knew I was from the outside, knew I’d been part of the rescue party. And knowing him, he had plenty of incentive to blow my cover if he wanted to. I pulled myself together and whispered toughly, “Be quiet, and I’ll get you out.”

  He looked at me—did he recognize my voice? “Why? Who are you?”

  “A friend,” I said. I watched the guard manning the aisles. Moving away from me. Could I sneak out? Get to Jude on the other side of this massive room? The guard neared the end of the aisle. Turned the corner. The moment the guard was out of sight, I ran for the cell door, but it was locked. I rattled the bars. I looked up at the catwalk, where I saw a guard standing by the switches Jude had used to unlock the cells. They’d reset everything, locked me in.

  “Friend, huh? Looks like we’re gonna get to be real friendly,” Ciaran said with a smile. “I’d be glad to show you the ropes here.”

  “How long have you been in here?” I asked. I had so many questions, and I was as terrified of Ciaran’s answers as I’d been eager to hear Jude’s.

  “A couple weeks,” Ciaran said.

  “Why? What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows. Some stupid shit probably.”

  You tried to rape me! You think that’s “stupid shit”? I wanted to scream, but I held my tongue. With a calm voice, I asked, “Is there any other way out?”

  “Oh yeah, your cell has a back door, leads to a lovely patio with a hammock.” Ciaran snickered.

  “What is this place? Do you know who runs it? Who brought you here?”

  “You don’t know? I thought you were my great savior.”

  Ugh, this was going nowhere. “I’m just trying to help you. If you don’t want to be helped, not my problem,” I hissed at him.

  Ciaran was up against the bars that separated us—was able to squeeze a finger through. “I’d love your help.” He leered.

  Seeing him, talking to him—it made me sick. I leaned against the opposite wall, as far as I could get from him. Finally, I heard more footsteps running toward me. Jude.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m locked in,” I said, demonstrating.

  Jude pulled out a key ring. “It’s on here somewhere.”

  As Jude went through the keys, Ciaran moved forward. “Another friend?” Ciaran asked.

  “We’re only gonna get you out if you stay quiet,” I said to Ciaran, hushed. And gave Jude a look—don’t engage.

  Jude found the key, unlocked the door. He whispered, “We’ve got everybody but one.”

  “Who’s left?” I asked. Jude’s look told me the answer. The one person I was here to rescue hadn’t been rescued yet.

  As we ran off, Ciaran called after us, “Hey!” But I didn’t look back. Up on the catwalk, a guard was busy inspecting the switches. If at any moment he looked down and saw us . . .

  Jude grabbed my arm, pulled me into an aisle. A different guard ran by, a half second away from catching us.

  Once he was out of sight, Jude whispered, “We’ve got five minutes. See if you can make any headway.”

  As Jude tossed me the keys, I turned—there was Dr. Marko. Sitting in his open prison cell. “Dr. Marko!” I whispered. He looked up. “I’m here to rescue you. Let’s go!” I said.

  But he just stared at me. Shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am. You have to go.”

  He looked me dead in the eyes. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m not leaving without you. You’re going home.”

  Marko’s face filled with sadness. His stare was eerie. “There is no going home.”

  Chapter 11

  “We’ll find a way to keep you safe, we’ll put you into hiding . . .”

  “You don’t understand.”

  I could hear footsteps running toward us. Guards? “If he won’t come, we have to go,” Jude hissed, but I shook my head. I couldn’t leave without Dr. Marko.

  “What don’t I understand?” I asked him.

  “I can’t leave. None of us can—there’s this thing in my head.” I looked at Jude. Clearly he’d heard this all already, and he shrugged, not knowing how to help.

  The footsteps were getting closer. “What do you mean, something in your head?” I asked.

  “If I leave this building, I’ll die.”

  Jude nudged me again, and I saw a guard approaching. I closed Marko’s cell door, locked it. “Any others still open?” I called out to the guard.

  The guard looked at me, trying to place me. Then shook his head. “I’ll check the next aisle.”

  As the guard moved off, I turned back to Marko. “The people I’m with, they know everything about this place. I think they’d know if there was something in your head.”

  “There’s a perimeter around the compound,” Marko said. “This technology, it can sense when we cross it. Cross it and you die, that’s what they told us. It happened to a guy before I got here.”

  “But all the other scientists left,” I said. “They’ve already gone to the meeting point. Why would they do that if leaving would kill them?” I asked.

  “They’ve been here longer than I have,” Marko said solemnly. “Their families have been threatened, they’ve been forced to invent unspeakable things. They want out one way or another.” One way or another. Suicide.

  Jude seemed as horrified as I was. “Our team must have some way to disable it.”

  “There’s no way,” Marko told him.

  “They wouldn’t have brought us out here if there was no way to get you out,” I repeated, hoping it was true. “They wouldn’t have launched a useless mission.”

  “Maybe they didn’t know,” Marko pointed out. “You didn’t know.”

  “Sometimes they keep things from us,” I said, summoning all the goodwill I had toward Dawn. “For our own protection. They tell us what we need to know because otherwise we might make the wrong decisions.” I wasn’t sure if any of it was true or not, but I couldn’t leave Marko here. I had to at least get him to the meeting point with the others, see if there was a way to get him out.

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “Please, come with me,” I begged him. “If there’s any chance I can
get you out alive . . .”

  “You can’t.”

  “Just to the meeting point outside. If they can’t deactivate the thing in your head, we’ll put you right back in here,” I said. “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Marko looked at Jude, then back to me. “Just to the meeting point.”

  Relieved, I unlocked his cell, and he jogged with us down the halls. We ran out the back doors, deep into the woods, to the spot where we’d agreed to reconvene with Owen. A couple dozen scientists were already loading themselves into the back of the truck, into the cartons that had once held produce. They’d be perfectly hidden.

  We ran up to Owen, who was looking over a set of paper maps. “We have a problem,” Jude said.

  I looked to Marko, waiting for him to explain, but Owen interrupted. “The transmitters, right?”

  I wished I was as surprised as Jude was by Owen’s casual admission of dishonesty. Jude explained, through clenched teeth, “He said there was something in his head, yeah.”

  Owen turned to Marko. “When I cut the power, I disabled the perimeter. When we cross the line, the transmitter in your head won’t know. It’ll be safe to get you out of here for another fifteen minutes.”

  Marko looked relieved, but Jude was furious. “You knew about this before we got here?”

  Owen was unfazed. “We didn’t know if the plan would work. We didn’t want to alarm anyone.”

  “But you couldn’t tell me? Vital information . . .”

  “What can I say, Dawn’s orders.”

  “You are unbelievable,” Jude shot back, as Owen moved off to help the last few scientists into the truck.

  I hung back, letting Jude process his anger. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “What if something had gone wrong? What if we’d gotten separated? I could have taken someone across too early . . .” He didn’t seem to want to think about that possibility. “It’s ridiculous. I’m here, I’m trying to help, I’ve done everything I can for these people . . .”