I’ve been staring at the door for ever. An hour? Two hours? Maybe three, who knows? Rani and I haven’t said a word to each other, both of us quietly sweating as we wait for someone to come back for us.
I rub my face, trying not to think about Maggie, about Gabby. They got through security. The guards didn’t notice anything wrong with their FIILES. But still I’m worried. After they shut me and Rani away, did security go back for my sister? For Gabby? They still had to get to their gates. What if the guards stopped them before they could board the TLJ to Killberry Beach? I chew the nail on my middle finger. What if they did get the TLJ? What if Maggie and Gabby have gone to Killberry Beach without me? How will I find them again?
The door flies open with a bang and I sit up. Rani was right. Two BMAC officers, stun staffs displayed prominently from their belts, stand either side of the door, letting two very serious-looking women enter the room. They’re not wearing the usual grey uniform of BMAC officers. They’re just in normal-looking grown-up clothes. But they aren’t normal. They’re BMAC for sure. I recognise the second woman, her hands clasped neatly behind her back. She was on Avin News, after Gabby’s house.
I glance down at the badge dangling at her hip. It has the BMAC emblem emblazoned on it. There’s a picture of her smiling, bleached teeth glowing next to her orangey-leather skin, her sandy-coloured hair tied in the same sloppy ponytail she’s wearing now. Special Agent Beadie Hartman, Investigations Division.
The feathery wings in my stomach multiply so it feels like there’s a whole flock losing their minds in there. Agents are serious. So very serious.
The security guard who stopped me enters behind them. He’s sweating a lot more than when I saw him last. He’s holding Rani’s duffle bag, which he hands to Hartman’s colleague. He hugs the wall as he slides in behind the agents, practically cowering as the women look at him like he’s gum they found stuck to their shoe.
‘Where’s the girl?’ snaps Hartman.
The security guard trembles as he looks at Rani, opening his mouth to say something, but the other agent cuts him off. ‘You only apprehended these two?’
‘That’s right ma’am.’
Hartman tilts her head in my direction. ‘The boy’s been travelling with his little sister and Vargas.’
Maggie. Gabby.
‘The girls have to be here somewhere. What were you doing when you flagged the boy? You just let passengers pass through like it’s no big deal? What kind of operation—’
The other agent holds up a hand to stop Hartman’s rant before it can really get going, and Hartman breathes in, one noisy breath through flared nostrils.
‘W-we didn’t have reason to believe the boy was travelling with anyone but this woman,’ stutters the guard.
‘Have you reviewed the security footage?’ asks the other agent. ‘I want everything from the entrances to the food courts to the security gates, before and after these two passed through the scanners.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ says the guard, heading for the door.
‘I’m afraid to ask.’ Hartman’s eyes are closed tight, as if her head is hurting. ‘Tell me you’ve suspended all TLJs out of the city.’
The guard stops, looks back, the beads of sweat drenching his sideburns. ‘We didn’t realise that would be necessary. We—’
‘It is necessary,’ says the other agent. ‘No jets leave this station until I say so. I want every guard you’ve got at every gate looking for Vargas. She’s in this station, and she needs to be found now.’
‘What’s the point?!’ Hartman explodes. Her voice is shrill, frantic, but still she keeps her hands clasped behind her back. ‘They’ve got a two-hour head start on us. I wouldn’t be surprised if Vargas’s halfway to China by now!’
My eyes shift to Rani – could they be gone? Could they have left Avin?
Rani doesn’t notice. She’s too busy watching the agent who has her bag, her mouth in a thin tight line. The agent waves the guard away, and he’s all too happy to run out the door. She pats Hartman calmly on the shoulder and the agitated agent rolls her neck, trying to get a hold of herself.
‘Rani Nair,’ says the calm agent, zipping open the duffle bag. ‘Caused the Movement activity seen over Holland’s Street, 2078. This is you, yes?’
The agent digs through the contents of the bag, pulling up what looks like a lot of worthless junk. When she pulls out the pungit ray, I sense Rani freeze. The agent doesn’t notice, inspecting the odd-looking flashlight. She clicks the on button, but when nothing happens she tosses it back in the bag like she did with all the rest of the garbage. She hands the bag to one of the other BMAC officers and starts scrolling through a shiny black droidlet.
She projects an image onto the wall between Rani’s head and mine. It’s an image of a girl, a little older than me, frowning for her school picture. Her angry eyes are still the same. The picture is Rani.
Rani crosses one leg over the other.
‘BMAC’s been looking for you for a long time, Ms Nair.’
Rani raises her chin just a bit, and Hartman scoffs.
The other agent smiles an unamused smile. ‘I’m Special Agent Frost. I will be escorting you to BMAC’s offices this afternoon. My associate Special Agent Hartman will accompany us and your young friend here.’
‘I don’t know the boy,’ says Rani.
Frost looks back at Hartman, who shakes her head. ‘She’s not important to me,’ says Hartman. ‘She’s all yours. I only want to speak with Mr Mermick.’
When she says my name, I feel as if I’ve been kicked in the stomach, my breath gone from my lungs. She knows me. I knew she did as soon as she walked in here, but hearing her say my name makes it even more real.
‘Do you know why you were stopped, Mr Mermick?’ says Hartman. Her eyes are an icy blue, with heavy eyelids and puffy bags underneath them like she hasn’t slept in days. Her pupils are so small she looks crazy.
She holds up my droidlet.
I drop my gaze to my lap and don’t say anything, just like Rani told me.
‘Of course, you’re only a boy, so I don’t expect you’d know.’ She pulls up a screen that is entirely code, a bunch of numbers and symbols that don’t mean anything as far as I can tell. ‘You see this? This is your SIT – secure identity tag. A string of sixty-four characters generated by the government to uniquely identify each individual person in the country.’
I keep staring at my lap. I don’t understand what that means.
‘Do you know how many combinations a string of sixty-four randomly generated characters allows for?’
No.
‘Neither do I. The number would be so large I’m not even sure we have a word for it.’
‘Infinite, I’d say,’ says Frost.
‘Not quite,’ says Hartman. ‘But still, enough that I’m sure you or whoever created this SIT for you knew the chances of repeating an existing number were next to impossible.’
When I glance back up, I wish I hadn’t. Her crazy eyes are dagger focused at me under obnoxiously high arching eyebrows. ‘Next to,’ she repeats. ‘Unfortunately for you, this SIT number already belongs to a citizen of this country.’ She projects an image from her own white droidlet onto the wall where Rani’s picture had been. An old woman, shrivelled and bespectacled, smiles toothlessly back at us. ‘One Mrs Addison Granger. Resident of Acra county. Ninety-two years of age. Quite the gardener, so I understand it from her profile.’
‘When your SIT was flagged at security,’ says Frost, ‘they sent your image to BMAC.’
‘I’ve had my officers running around the entire city looking for you for two days, Mr Mermick.’ She bends down, her face uncomfortably close to mine. ‘You and Gabriela Vargas.’
‘I haven’t seen her,’ I croak.
Hartman’s nostrils flare just a bit, and her crazy eyes go just a little wider. It’s like there’s a caged animal behind that fancy suit of hers, and for a second I’m afraid she’s going to let it loose on me. Her voice is quiet when she speak
s. ‘We will get along much better, you and me, if you tell me the truth.’
‘I am telling the truth.’
‘Have it your way, Mr Mermick.’ She takes a step back and nods at the BMAC officers standing beside the door.
I shrink back against the wall when I see them, the glowing, crackling electric blue in the officers’ hands – current bindings. Like the kind they put on Dad.
Rani and I are hauled to our feet, and a hot burning surrounds my wrists as the BMAC officer roughly binds my hands together.
Hartman looks down her nose at me, a filthy slug she can’t get rid of soon enough. ‘Load ’em up,’ she orders.
TWENTY-THREE
My knees knock together as I sit across from Rani, our legs nearly touching in the back of the truck. The hum of our bindings fills the silence between us, my wrists itching from the heat as we speed off to BMAC Headquarters. Or worse.
‘Will they find them?’ I say, almost asking the universe rather than Rani.
She keeps her head resting on the wall of the truck, staring up at the ceiling, ‘What?’
‘BMAC. Will they find the girls?’
Rani sighs and lets her elbows rest on her knees. We both stare at the menacing electric glow of the bindings dancing around her wrists. After what feels like forever, she shakes her head. ‘Leonard is with them. He won’t risk getting on a TLJ now. Not with security on high alert. He’ll find somewhere for them to hide. They’ll be OK.’
I hope Rani is right.
But what about me? My eyes begin to sting.
‘They’re gonna Shelve us, aren’t they?’
Rani keeps her head hanging, rubbing her wrists where the cuffs are starting to burn.
Yeah. They’re gonna Shelve us.
I’m hot all over, my pits pouring sweat. It must hurt, the needle to the head. And how long will it take before the drug makes its way to my brain? And when it does, will I still think? Will I dream? Will I know I can’t wake up? Or will I not dream at all? Will it just be nothingness?
My hands start to tremble and Rani sees it. ‘Take a breath,’ she orders, and I try but it hurts in my chest. ‘Breathe even, breathe slow.’
I do what she tells me, shakily pulling the air into my lungs, then pushing it out.
‘Pat, listen to me,’ she says.
I take another breath, the effort causing me pain, and watch as Rani’s eyes stare into mine. ‘Don’t show them you’re afraid,’ she says. ‘We are what we are, and we’re not sorry for it.’
Her throat throbs as she swallows and I can see even with her hard-set jaw that she’s terrified. It’s in there, hiding behind all the stone she’s built up on the outside, but it’s there, and suddenly I feel more nauseous. Rani is right. I’m gonna be Shelved, and I can’t be scared.
‘I’m sorry,’ I tell her, my voice catching. ‘I’m sorry I got you involved in this.’
Rani rubs at the skin beneath the binds. If she heard me, she’s choosing to ignore it.
There’s a change in the rumble of the engine and it’s enough to tell me we’ve slowed down. My breath comes back in tight, quick gulps and I can’t help it, the panic is drowning me as I wait for the truck to stop.
‘Be calm, Patrick,’ says Rani, my full name comforting in her smooth and steady voice.
My Shadow’s reaching for me now, his worried presence trying to get a feel for what’s got me so unravelled, and as the truck finally stops with a squeal of the brake I find myself reaching out to him, frantically trying to grab onto him like I did in the security scanner.
There are voices just outside the doors and a heavy clicking sound of locks being undone.
‘Don’t show them,’ Rani warns.
My Shadow’s there; I’m holding onto him so tightly and I’m relieved he’s holding me back. What I’ve put out to the future has scared him, and he’s not going to leave me to face it alone. I feel the air in my lungs, charged with terror, and I release it, blowing it out through puffed cheeks. I’m not alone in this. I can’t be afraid.
The light bursts in as the door flies open and two BMAC officers reach for us. ‘Let’s go,’ grumbles the heavy one, and he grabs me by the arm, hauling me out. Waiting patiently by the kerb is Hartman, her hands still held behind her back. She looks at me smugly, almost triumphant, before she turns her attention to Rani.
‘Take her around the back. Special Agent Frost is expecting her in prep,’ she says, and Rani’s nostrils flare just a little. I can hear her breath waver, but Hartman takes no notice. ‘The boy comes with me.’
Hartman turns her back to us and marches towards the giant building. I’ve never seen it from this side, but I know those obnoxiously shiny gold windows. BMAC Headquarters. I look over at Rani, who I can tell is trying her best not to tremble. Take her around the back? We both know what that means. The Movers’ Prison is at the back. The Shelves.
The officer holding tight to Rani drags her back to the van while mine grabs me by the shoulder and pushes me forward. I crane my neck, wanting to call out for Rani, but they’ve already locked her back inside the truck.
I stumble a bit and the officer takes hold of my other arm. ‘Keep moving,’ he huffs.
I feel a gush of sweat in my armpits and my head feels dizzy the closer I get to the big gold building. When I was younger I saw it up close from the front once. Mom came to talk to someone at BMAC about Dad. I hated the look of it even then. The front entrance had a big overhanging triangle thing, that made it look like some kind of palace from outer space, with palm trees and hibiscus plants decorating the gardens even though this is a pine trees and birches part of the world. It had frightened me then. But from here, the side of it – one simple door that looks like a fire exit, no plants, no signs – I’m even more afraid. This is the Movers’ entrance.
Hartman holds the door open for me. ‘Just through here, Mr Mermick.’
As if I have any control over where I go now.
The inside is less expensive-looking than I imagined. I don’t know what I thought I’d see. Marble hallways that echo as you walk maybe. But no. The floor is dingy salmon-coloured tile, and the walls are a chipped, cracked mess of faded yellow. You’d never know from the fancy shine of the outside just how sad the inside really is.
We load into a tiny elevator, barely big enough for the three of us, and the woman punches the button for floor 15, Criminal Movement Investigations Department. There’s another surge of acid in my stomach. Criminal.
With a ding the doors open up onto another unremarkable hallway. There are carts with boxes and filing parked crookedly outside rows of office doors, and as we round the first corner, a lot of cubicles with fat BMAC agents yakking to each other or yelling into phones. It smells of old greasy food and bleach.
They all stop what they’re doing when they see us coming, a lot of them clapping and congratulating Special Agent Hartman. She smiles at the applause and leads me deeper into BMAC, slamming through a set of double doors that open into a white hallway with green floors. It’s quiet in here. Clean too. Not like the outer part. Doors line the walls, each one labelled Room A, or B, or C. Not enough to give me any clue of what the rooms are used for.
Hartman stops at the door marked Room F and finally turns to face me, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘This would be you, Mr Mermick,’ she says, as the fat officer roughly brings me to a stop. She gives him a nod and he removes my bindings. The skin is bright red, and it stings, blisters forming on the inside of my wrists. ‘I’m not going to lie to you, son – you’re facing quite a lot of trouble.’ Her voice is stern but measured, like she’s trying to reason with me over clearing the table after dinner. ‘We’re well aware that you’ve been helping the Vargas girl evade justice, and I don’t need to remind you that what she’s done is a terrible crime. It would serve you well to know that I am here to help you out of this situation.’
She waits for me to say something, the corners of her mouth turning downwards with every second I don’t respon
d.
‘But I can’t help you,’ she speaks slowly, making sure I understand each word, ‘if you don’t co-operate with me.’
I keep my eyes on the green tile.
‘Do you know where I can find Gabriela Vargas?’
There are flecks of white and blue in each tile. How long would it take me to count them?
‘Mr Mermick,’ says Hartman, raising her voice just a little, ‘do you know the girl’s whereabouts?’
I don’t, not really. I don’t know if they got the TLJ, or if Leonard took them somewhere to hide. And even if they got to Pondu Terminal, Killberry Beach, where they’d go when they reached there is anyone’s guess. I suddenly realise I’m glad I know so little. Whatever this woman does to me, at least I know I can’t give her what she wants.
‘You’ve had a big day,’ she says finally, turning to the blinking scanner mounted just beside the door. ‘I’ll give you the night to rest and think over what I’ve just said.’ She places her index finger on the green grid and the red light blinks white, there’s a click, and I’m shoved inside. The door slams shut behind me.
It’s a white, windowless room. A plastic chair and a long black desk sit in the middle.
‘Pat?’
In the corner on the floor, a beautiful lady dressed in white, her brown hair in wild knots, sits up, her eyes wet as she reaches out for me. My heart swells at the sight of her. My knees feel weak and I burst into tears so suddenly that I collapse into her arms.
Mom.
TWENTY-FOUR
Mom’s hair smells like her raspberry shampoo, and she rocks me back and forth as I breathe her in. I have to hold on so tight to make sure she doesn’t go away again. She pulls me back from her, her hands on either side of my face, and wipes my tears away.
‘Where’s Maggie?’ she says. ‘Do they have your sister? Pat, you have to tell me, honey, did they bring her here?’
I shake my head. ‘She’s with Leonard.’
Mom looks as if she’s going to faint at the sound of his name coming out of my mouth.
‘He told me, Mom,’ I say. ‘He told me what you and Dad did for Maggie.’
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