by Carrie Mac
Marlin grinned. “He was victim to his ego—that never changed.”
“Just his ideas about right and wrong when it comes to reconning.”
“Right and wrong on a much bigger scale, Phoenix.”
“Indeed.” Polly took Phee’s empty teacup. “Your brother has strong convictions. He is a born activist. He’s willing to take risks where others won’t. He does valuable work here. And he will again, when he comes back.”
“If he comes back.”
“He will.” Polly put a reassuring hand on Phee’s arm. “He will come back.”
Phee raised her eyes to fix Marlin with a dark look. “Tell me how he died.”
“Not yet, Phee.”
“But you will?” Phee was too tired to protest. “You promise you will?”
Marlin nodded. He reached out a hand. She took it and he helped her up. “I’ll give you a tour and then make sure you get home without falling asleep in the middle of the street, okay?”
HE SHOWED HER the door that led to the wing of small rooms housing the newly reconned, giving them time to get their heads around their new appearance, and to settle in to the logistics of a new identity.
“Everyone’s sleeping,” he said, leading her away. “And I wouldn’t introduce you to anyone anyway, for obvious reasons.”
He pushed open a heavy door that separated the actual lab from the rest of the building. The lights came on, casting a harsh, surgical light onto the gleaming stainless-steel surfaces and the polished tile floor. Everything glinted with cleanliness, much to Phee’s relief. The same sort of track that she’d seen at Chrysalis crossed the room on the far wall. Marlin saw her notice it.
“We use the same equipment. You saw the capsules. We use the same vitrification fluids, the same molecular compounds.”
“Aren’t you the scientist,” Phee joked, although she felt nothing but unease at this clandestine set-up.
“Not at all,” Marlin replied. “But I can sound smart. We have insiders working for us. Chrysalis agents who siphon from the main tanks. Just a few ounces at a time. Shipping agents who fudge the inventory. It’s a big movement, Phee.”
“Apparently.” Phoenix spun on her heel so she was face to face with Marlin. “And will this big movement be able to do anything to bring Gryph back?”
“Maybe.”
“How?”
“If the appeal fails, and we can get into Chrysalis and retrieve his stasis pod—”
“Steal him?” Phee laughed again—the notion was so absurd. “Have you ever even been to Chrysalis? You couldn’t steal a ballpoint pen from there, let alone the body of one of their celebrities!”
“You weren’t listening. We steal stuff from them all the time.”
“But people? Have you ever actually stolen a whole, entire person?”
“Obviously, we’re hoping we won’t have to consider it.” Marlin’s eyes darkened. “But if it comes down to it, I’ll try. He’s my best friend, Phee. And I’ve got nothing left to lose. My parents are in hiding on the other side of the continent because my father’s role in this lab was about to be exposed—we had to relocate the entire operation because of him, or else the whole operation would’ve been compromised—and I’m as good as dead to everyone else.”
“Not to Nadia.”
His eyes brimmed immediately. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“She’s desperate to know what happened to you. She doesn’t know what to think. That you’re hurt, or ran away, or are in trouble. Or just plain left her.”
He turned away, hiding real tears. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
Phee let it go for now. She couldn’t imagine what Nadia would think about all of this. Nadia, like Phee until recently, had never had reason to adjust her ideas about reconning. But Nadia—unlike Phee—was someone who rarely shifted her thoughts on anything. Nadia liked being a three-per and what it meant in relation to people with fewer recons. She liked her status just as much as she liked jackets with real rabbit trim, and tubes of mascara that cost more than most one-pers made in a week. Phee understood that, but whereas she was willing to rethink things, she couldn’t imagine Nadia doing the same. Maybe, if Phee could explain everything, just maybe Nadia would come around. Phee doubted it, though, and by the look on Marlin’s face, so did he.
CONSEQUENCE
If none of the guys would talk, there was only one other person Phee could think of who might be able to shed some light on how Gryph died.
After church, Phoenix arranged to meet Clea at Seaside Park, where she worked as a lifeguard at the water park built at the ocean’s edge. Phee took Fawn with her, feeling guilty for not hanging out with her more, and wanting to give the rest of her family a break from the six-year-old’s relentless energy.
“The water park!” Fawn skipped ahead of her as she exited the train at the stop nearest the park’s pool. “Gryph brought me here. You can swim in the real ocean, but the water park is way funner.”
“I know, Fawn. We’ve been here before together, remember?”
“It’s really cool.” Fawn wasn’t listening. “There’s a waterslide and a tube river and everything. Gryph bought me two ice-cream cones last time. He’s a better brother than you are.”
“I’m your sister.”
“You know what I mean,” Fawn said with a sneer. “He’s nicer to me than you are.”
“Shows how much you know …” Phee couldn’t resist a jab in response to Fawn’s hurtful words. “He only brought you here because he wanted to see Clea, and girls love boys who act all nicey-nice to their little sisters, so he was only bringing you as an accessory.”
Fawn blinked. “Huh?”
It had all sailed right over her head thankfully, because Phee was already sorry she’d said it. She didn’t mean to hurt Fawn. Phee was just tired and sad and frustrated. And entirely overwhelmed by recent events. “I said I’d buy you as many ice creams as you want, but if you throw up you’re on your own.”
The sunshine made her feel a little better. She adjusted her sunglasses and bullied Fawn into putting on her sun hat before finding them a place to set out their blanket. There was a grassy knoll behind the big slide, which suited Phee just fine. She could see Clea perched atop her lifeguard stand, looking tanned and beautiful, and not at all grief-stricken.
That was from afar, though, because as she and Fawn approached, and Clea took off her shades and climbed down to give Fawn a big hug, Phee noticed dark circles under her eyes and an uncharacteristic sloppiness to her ponytail. And she wasn’t wearing so much as a smidgeon of makeup. Phee reeled in her assumptions, deciding she’d better clear the slate for once.
“Hey, Clea.”
“Phoenix. Hi.”
Clea held Fawn to her for another long moment before letting her go with an affectionate shove. “And you, little miss mischief, you stay where I can see you.”
“I will.”
“And where you can see us, okay?”
“Promise.” With that, Fawn headed for the shallow end of the pool. “So”—she turned her attention to Phee—“I wondered if I’d ever hear from you.”
Phoenix considered telling Clea that she’d thought about calling her, seeing how she was doing. But the truth was, it had never occurred to her to inquire about how Clea was holding up with having lost Gryph too. She just wanted to know what Clea knew.
“Sorry not to be in touch sooner.”
“That’s okay.” Clea shrugged. “I know you don’t like me. And I’ve been keeping up with the news, so I have an idea about what’s going on. The appeal, for example.”
“I’m sorry if I offended—”
“No, you’re not.” Clea narrowed her eyes. “You’re not sorry. So skip it, and get to the real reason you’re here.” She fingered the whistle on a cord around her neck, eyes scanning her waterlogged charges.
“I’m hoping you might know what really happened that day.”
“No. But I would tell you if I did.”
There was defiance in her eyes that elicited a sudden tug of shame in Phee. “Because I love Gryph, and I would do whatever I could to get him back, even if you think I’m just some slut who wants to hang off his arm for a while.”
“I don’t think that.” But she did, or she had. Until right now. With Clea standing up for herself, here in her place of work where she so clearly had the respect of those around her, Phoenix could see a little of what Gryph saw in her. She could hear Oscar’s minister voice intoning, “We are new wonders every day, each of us reborn with the sunrise …”
“I am sorry.” The words felt thick in her throat. “I am, Clea.”
Clea’s expression softened. “I didn’t actually see it happen. I was there, like, seconds after. But I didn’t see it happen. And the boys won’t tell me anything.”
It hit Phee like a kick to the gut. Clea might not have seen it happen, but she’d been there. Phee had known that, but it hadn’t really sunk in until now what that truly meant. The fear, the horror. Seeing Gryph like that. Her boyfriend, for whatever that was worth. In all the time that had passed, Phee hadn’t given Clea’s feelings a single thought. Oscar would be ashamed of her. Hell, she was ashamed of herself.
“I’m so sorry, Clea. It must have been awful.”
“It was.” Her eyes teared up. “It was awful.”
“I am so, so sorry that you saw him like that.”
“Me too.”
The girls said nothing for a moment, but then Phee pushed on, hoping Clea would let her.
“You’ve talked to them? The guys?”
“I’ve talked to Tariq,” Clea said with a sigh. “He’s the only one who’ll get back to me. But I think that’s because he won’t let Huy or Neko speak for themselves. They’re all locked up. Nothing in. Nothing out.”
“I’m getting the same treatment, if it’s any consolation.”
Fawn bounded toward them, soaking wet and shivering. “Can I sit in the lifeguard chair? Just for a minute?”
“Sorry, Fawn. You know I can’t let anyone up there unless they’re a lifeguard.”
“Please?”
“No,” Clea repeated. “Why don’t you go down the slide? But not headfirst this time or I have to give you a warning just like everyone else. Okay?”
“Okay.” Fawn hurried off, careful not to break the no-running rule on the pool deck.
“You’re good with her.”
“You might notice I’m good at a couple of things, if you actually saw me as a person, and not some brainless slut.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch.”
Clea’s boss called over from the concession stand and told her to get back to work, so she and Phee said goodbye. Phee felt antsy. She wanted to leave right away, but she’d promised Fawn a swim, so she made herself wait another half an hour before dragging a protesting Fawn into the change rooms and then home.
But being at home was worse. She still felt antsy. There was nothing to do, and that drove her mad. She wasn’t meeting Marlin until later, and none of the other boys were returning her calls anymore, so she just had to wait. She lay down and tried to nap, but sleep would not come. She’d been up for two days and two nights now.
Phee was so tired at dinner that she could hardly keep her eyes open. She couldn’t comprehend how Gryph could go out night after night and still function at all during the day, let alone win competition after competition. She excused herself early and shut herself in her room and tried again to sleep. She was going to meet Marlin later, and if she didn’t get some sleep now, it would be a long time before she could hope for another chance at it. She set her alarm and shut her eyes, not very hopeful.
Thankfully, she did sleep. When her alarm went off, she woke with a start. She could’ve slept for days and days, but she had to go. The house was quiet when she padded down the stairs later. Riley whined as she passed, and she paused to give him a pat. Willis let her out the main gate with stern instructions to be back by five in the morning and not a moment later this time.
MARLIN MET HER at the benches again.
“What are you going to show me tonight?” Phee fell into step beside him as they headed off to the train station.
“A test-tube-baby factory where they make to-order babies for all those sad, desperate infertile couples with money to burn,” Marlin said with a sardonic laugh. Then he did his best TV infomercial spokesperson impersonation. “And for only $19.99, pre-select the sex of up to four zygotes!”
“Not funny.”
“We’re going back to the lab,” Marlin said. “You can help.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Phee stopped walking. “What if I wish you’d never shown me that place? What if I wish I never knew about it? What if I don’t want to because I don’t agree with you or your illegal reconning? What if I have my own opinions?”
“Do you? Agree?”
“I don’t know. The world is set up the way it is for a reason. Good reasons, right?”
“You mean the tier system?” It had been like that, with doctors and business executives and politicians and lawyers being entitled to three recons, and then academics and accountants and pilots and such being allotted two recons, and then down the line through daycare workers and garbagemen and grocery clerks with their one each, and then everyone else, mostly jobless and destitute, not having rights to a single recon, ever. “That system was designed by the elite for the elite, Phee. Think about it. Is any one life more important than another?”
“Sure. Some crackhead from a no-per zone is not as important as my little sister.” Phee remembered the ill-fated shuttle trip to the no-per zone. Those people were not as valuable as the people she loved. No way.
“Not to you, maybe.” Marlin’s tone was challenging. “But that ‘crackhead’ has a sister too. Who’d be just as upset if her sister died. In fact, more upset than you, because Fawn has three recons to her name. She’d come back.”
“Not if Chrysalis doubted the circumstances around her death.”
“Now you’re talking about Gryph.”
“Of course I’m talking about Gryph!” Phee had to remind herself to keep her voice down. They were waiting for the train, and while there was no one else around at the moment, who knew who might be nearby, and who knew what exactly was captured by the security cameras? “Who else would I be talking about?”
“It will all work out. With Gryph, I mean.”
“Prove it. Tell me what really happened that night.”
The train sighed to a stop and the two of them got on. The car was empty, but still Marlin whispered. “I will. When we get off the train.”
TRUE TO HIS WORD, as they made their way to the warehouse, Marlin finally started talking about what really happened.
“If I tell you this, you have to promise not to talk to anyone about it. Not Nadia. Or Huy or Tariq or Neko. Definitely not Neko. Not a word.”
“I promise.”
“And I mean it about not telling Nadia. You can’t ever tell her what I’m about to tell you.”
“Tell me, already.” Phee laughed, but it was a scared, nervous little bleat. She didn’t like the way he was talking, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was better in the long run that she didn’t know. Part of her felt sick with unease, but the bigger part of her was a complete slave to her curiosity.
“I’m telling you because you’ve always been a good friend to me, and because I can see how much you’re hurting not knowing what happened to your brother.” Marlin stopped walking. He gripped Phoenix by her shoulders and waited until she met his eyes with her nervous gaze. “Gryph didn’t kill himself, and it wasn’t an accident.”
They were in front of a boarded-up grocery store, long since abandoned, dark and ominous like a hulking, silent witness.
“I’m listening,” Phee said, although her head pounded and her thoughts leaped ahead of her, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. She tried to concentrate. That meant that it wasn’t suicide! He’d b
e reconned! She glanced at her watch. It was just past midnight. Could she go to Chrysalis now? Surely there was someone there around the clock. Marlin would come with her, explain everything. Gryph could come home! But of course there was more. It was never simple.
“He was pushed.”
“Who—” Phee blanched. “Not you? Is that why you disappeared?”
“No, it wasn’t me.”
“Tariq?”
Marlin shook his head, eyes downcast.
“A stranger!” Phee latched on to the notion with her relief like talons. “That’s okay, then. Even if they do a lie detector test, right? Doesn’t matter who, so long as none of—” She caught herself. She wasn’t that naive. If it had been a stranger, they would’ve said so all along. The boys were obviously covering up for one of their own. “Was it Huy?”
“No.” Marlin took Phee’s wrist, pulling her back to the present so that she could really hear what he was about to say. “It was Neko.”
“No it wasn’t!” Phee gasped. She pulled her arm away and hugged herself.
“It was Neko,” Marlin said. “I saw the whole thing happen.”
MARLIN EXPLAINED. The boys were on the platform, waiting for the train. They were teasing Neko, which was as normal for them as breathing. One of them always had to be the target, and it had been Neko’s turn for a long while. Perhaps too long.
“You’re a coward,” Gryph said. “Why do you think we haven’t initiated you yet?”
“I’m not a coward.” Neko’s cheeks blazed with sudden anger. He gave Gryph a shove, just to prove his point. Gryph didn’t budge.
“You are so.” This from Huy. “That’s okay. You’re just a little kid. You’ve got time to learn to do big-boy things.” He lunged for Neko, making a grab for his pants. “Still got diapers under there?”
“Don’t touch me, Huy.”
“Why not?” Huy made another grab for his pants. “Afraid you’ll catch my faggot cooties?”
“Shut up!” Neko’s face went even redder, and his eyes flashed darker.
“Knock out the cameras, then,” Gryph challenged. “I dare you.”
