She waits, and I know she can see it on my face. There’s no disguising how mad I am.
‘Why didn’t you tell me, Mom?’
She starts to say something but it’s like her voice gets caught somewhere in her throat cos nothing comes out. She runs her hand over my buzzed head and just looks at me, searching my face the way she does whenever I’m upset, as if the right thing to say will be sitting on my cheeks. This time she can’t find it, cos this time is bigger than anything before it.
‘I thought—’ she starts – ‘I thought I was protecting you. Both of you.’
And I knew that, before she said it, I knew that’s what she’d tell me. But it didn’t protect us, did it? Because I’m sitting here. And Maggie’s out there somewhere, and so is Gabby. And what happens if BMAC finds them?
Or worse …
Roth.
‘I hoped,’ she says, shaking her head, ‘your father and I both did, that we could protect you from all this. I hoped we could outrun it all. I was wrong.’
And it’s not good enough. Her reason isn’t good enough for me and she knows it, I see it in the tears on her cheeks. But it’s all she’s got. So she pulls me tightly to her and the two of us hang on to each other as we rock back and forth.
‘How did you …?’ she starts, but her voice is barely a whisper, trying not to cry. ‘How did you even get here?’
I sit there, with my face pressed into her shoulder, and fill my lungs with the smell of raspberry. There’s so much that’s happened, so much that’s changed since I saw her only just two days ago that I don’t know if I have the strength to tell her everything. But she needs to know. She’ll know what we do now.
‘They stopped me at security at Fellows Junction. I figured out what you were gonna do, so I got Leonard to—’ Mom clamps her hand over my mouth. She holds her finger to her ear, then points at the ceiling. BMAC’s listening. That’s why Hartman brought me here – to let me confide in Mom and use whatever I say to find Gabby and my sister.
I nod and lower my voice, resolved not to talk about Maggie. It’s too dangerous here. So I tell her what BMAC already knows.
I tell her what happened at school.
I tell her about Gabby. And how our faces have been all over the news.
I tell her about how BMAC came to the apartment. About Hexall Hall. And the BMAC raid. About how Rani saved us.
And when I come to the end of it, I already feel a thousand times lighter, a thousand times safer. ‘When they stopped me at security, they saw something wrong with my SIT number thing. So they called BMAC.’
Mom’s eyes are welling up again as she looks at me, but her lips are pressed together like she’s fighting a smile. ‘My brave boy,’ she says. She kisses my wrists where the blisters are turning white, then my head, my cheeks, over and over. ‘You’re such a brave, brave boy.’
But even as she holds me, I feel the dread churning in my stomach. I haven’t told her the worst part. The part about Roth. I haven’t told her that Maggie’s Moved again.
‘There’s more,’ I whisper. And I try to think of how to tell her without getting BMAC suspicious. ‘Roth’s here,’ I say.
I feel Mom’s muscles go rigid. ‘Maggie?’ she mouths silently.
I nod.
She doesn’t say anything for the longest time, and I want to tell her more. I want to tell her that Gabby is Roth’s Mover. That he’s looking for Gabby, and Maggie’s with her. What happens if he finds them? What will he do to them?
‘Pat,’ Mom says quietly, ‘is Maggie safe?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, and the tears start to flow, because I don’t know. I don’t know if they made it to their TLJ. I don’t know if BMAC’s found them. I don’t know if Leonard is still with them. I don’t know anything. ‘I tried, Mom. I really tried.’
‘Patrick,’ she says more sternly. ‘Patrick, you don’t say anything, you understand me?’
I nod, but part of me starts to wonder if keeping quiet is the best idea. Would it be so bad if I talked? What if BMAC knew about Roth, if I just told them? Maybe they could find him, stop him. They could keep Gabby safe, keep all of us safe from Roth. I force the idea out of my head. No. If I did that then I’d have to tell them about Maggie. Maggie let Roth in. Maggie opened a door. Twice. That’s all BMAC would care about. I can’t put Maggie in that kind of danger.
So I hug my mother. I let myself believe she’ll keep me safe, at least until BMAC comes for me. And when they do, I won’t tell them anything, just like she said. I squeeze my mom a little tighter. My dad did it for Maggie. I can do it too.
I wake up with my arms still wrapped around my mom. She’s rubbing my back and staring at the door. It’s morning. I hear footsteps in the hall and I sit bolt upright. BMAC’s coming.
The footsteps stop and we can see the shadows of their feet underneath the door.
‘Whatever you do, Pat, don’t say a word.’ Mom stands and holds her hand out to stop me from getting up. ‘Let me handle this.’
I pull my knees up to my chest. She can’t handle this for me. BMAC won’t let her.
The door clanks open and in walk two BMAC goons, followed by Hartman, hands still clasped behind her back. I wonder if she sleeps like that. She’s not smiling but she isn’t frowning either.
‘Mrs Mermick,’ she says pleasantly to my mother, but Mom’s not having it.
‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Beadie,’ Mom says, ‘but if I don’t get to speak to my lawyer today – and I mean right now – you can bet that I’ll have you thrown out of BMAC so fast, you won’t even get a job as subway patrol in this city.’
Special Agent Hartman leans back with a smirk. ‘My, don’t we have a temper this morning.’ Her friends standing either side of the door smile and I see Mom’s hands flexing at her sides, trying to keep calm. ‘I assure you, Mrs Mermick, that today will be the day I do my utmost to get you a phone so you can do that very thing—’
‘Bullshit!’ Mom spits.
Hartman holds out her hand to me. ‘But for now your son and I have more pressing matters to discuss.’
Mom puts herself between me and Hartman. ‘The hell you do. He’s not talking to you about anything. I won’t allow it. Not until I have the chance to speak with my attorney.’
‘Fortunately, Mrs Mermick, I don’t need your permission.’
Mom takes a step towards Special Agent Hartman and I watch the other two BMAC officers reach for their stun staffs. ‘If you think for one second that I’m just going to let you take my son—’
‘I don’t think, Mrs Mermick,’ says Hartman, her face still pleasant in spite of the poison in Mom’s stare. ‘I know.’
‘You listen to me,’ says Mom, and she closes the distance between them and pokes Hartman in the chest. The two officers move in, but Hartman holds her hand up to stop them, suppressing a grin as Mom starts up a sermon. ‘Let’s say I ignore the fact that BMAC regulations say a civilian, a Non-Mover like myself, should be taken to county lock-up if you have anything you wanted to arrest me for. You don’t. But let’s put that aside. You cannot take my child, a minor, for questioning without me present. So you won’t. Come back with a phone.’
‘Yes, well, if your child was not a Mover, that would be the case,’ says Hartman. Her smile is gone and she glares at Mom with the same ferocity. ‘But he is. And section 12 of the Registered Movers Act holds that any Mover under criminal investigation, including a minor, is exempt from the rights afforded regular citizens and is subject to evaluation by the Bureau of Movement Activity Control.’
Mom doesn’t move, but I can see her hand has stopped flexing at her side. She’s not saying anything and I think she’s starting to figure out she can’t save me.
‘Now, Mr Mermick,’ says Hartman, never looking away from Mom, ‘I have some questions I’d like to ask you. Shall we?’
Mom’s finger points at me. ‘Pat, you stay right there.’
‘Mrs Mermick, I really don’t have time to
go through this with you.’
‘You’re not taking my son.’
‘I am,’ says Hartman, signalling to her agent friends. With three heavy steps they’re on top of my mom, seizing her by each arm. She swears at them both, not caring at all that they’re twice her size, and tries to rip her arms free as they wrestle to hold her still.
‘Stop!’ I shout. ‘I’ll go. Just don’t touch her.’
‘Pat, honey—’ Mom tries, as the officers keep their hands on her arms, but at least she’s stopped fighting them.
‘It’s fine, Mom,’ I say, and move in beside Hartman.
‘There’s a sport,’ says Hartman, clapping me hard on the back. She leaves her hand at the base of my neck, holding on more firmly than I’d like, and guides me out the door. One of her goons follows while the other stays with Mom.
‘He doesn’t need to stay with her,’ I say to Hartman once we’re in the hallway.
Hartman lets go of my neck. ‘Mr Mermick, I want to talk to you about your friend Gabriela.’
I look down and watch the specks in the green tile pass beneath my feet as we walk. She can talk all she wants. I don’t have to.
‘What your mother did – encouraging your little sister to flee from her phase tests – was foolish. And she will be punished for it of course. But one little girl and her phase upgrade doesn’t matter much to me.’
It should. That one little girl started this whole mess.
‘Do you see this badge?’ she says, removing it from her hip. She stops and hands it to me. ‘Criminal Investigations. What your sister did was wrong, but she’s by no means a criminal. I’m not interested in her.’
‘Then why are you keeping my mom here?’
She smiles. ‘I’m not keeping her here, Patrick. You are. Since we discovered your part in the Movement at Romsey, it seemed prudent that she be kept in our custody. Now that we’ve got you, your mother can go home right this minute if you tell me what I want to know.’
I glare at her but she just goes on smiling and points back at the badge, her finger tapping the word criminal. ‘Now your friend Gabriela, she is a criminal, Mr Mermick.’
I roll my eyes and hand the badge back. If Maggie’s not a criminal, then Gabby’s practically a saint. Hartman reaches for the badge, but squeezes my hand in hers, staring at me. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Does the death of four people bore you?’
I stiffen.
‘Vargas’s own parents, not to mention two BMAC agents whom I knew personally.’
‘Gabby didn’t kill them,’ I say.
‘If you are trying to place the onus on Ms Vargas’s Shadow—’
‘Go look for him!’ I shout. ‘He’s the one who killed them! Not Gabby! Why aren’t you out looking for him?’
‘We are looking for him, Mr Mermick,’ she says calmly. ‘But seeing as Miss Vargas’s Shadow is not from this time, we don’t have any information on him, do we? We have only a description to go on, and believe me when I tell you we are working hard with what little we have to bring this renegade Shadow to justice.’
I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with how hard she’s squeezing my hand. After what feels like forever, she releases me and keeps walking.
‘But still these four deaths are on your friend’s hands. She let in her Shadow, who has proven himself to be uncommonly dangerous. Are you telling me she didn’t know her Shadow’s nature before she Moved him here?’
I don’t answer that. Gabby knew. That’s why she never wanted to Move him.
‘It’s her fault these people are dead,’ says Hartman. ‘As sure as if she held a gun to their heads.’
There’s a stabbing in my heart at hearing Gabby’s words echoed by this Hartman woman. It’s my fault they’re dead. But it isn’t her fault. None of it. All she did was try and get Roth out of her head. And she’ll be smart enough to make it happen! But still he found his way back here.
‘How do you know she did it?’ I say. ‘How do you know Gabby made the Move at Romsey?’
Hartman huffs, amused. ‘Did she tell you she didn’t?’
I don’t say anything, but Hartman takes that as a yes and stops in front of a pair of black doors. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. No one who knowingly breaks the rules wants to face the consequences of their actions. What else could she be expected to tell you? It’s not your fault either, Mr Mermick. I know she’s your friend.’
I wish she’d be meaner to me. I wish she’d come at me with whatever horrible thing she’s hiding in her head. This friendly thing she’s doing, this you-can-trust-me-little-boy act is only making me more angry. She thinks I’m an idiot.
She places her finger on another scanner and the red light blinks white, opening the door to a glass hallway. There’s natural light here; I can see the sky above us and I realise it’s a covered bridge.
‘We want to help our friends. It’s the nice thing to do.’
I feel like I’m in kindergarten.
‘But, Mr Mermick,’ she goes on, ‘the nice thing to do isn’t always the right thing to do.’
‘She didn’t do it,’ I say impatiently. This lecture is a waste of both of our time.
‘She did, son,’ says Hartman as we come to the door at the end of the bridge and she scans her finger again. ‘I’m a criminal investigations officer. It’s my job to look at all the facts, all of the information, so we can know who is responsible for breaking the rules. I’m very good at my job, Mr Mermick. And I have no doubt in my mind that Gabriela Vargas is the Mover behind the recent activity above the Romsey Institute for Academics.’
You’re not that good at it.
The door clicks and there’s a hiss as Hartman shoves through the double doors. It’s dark on the other side. Blue lights line the hallway and the temperature drops a solid ten degrees. The wall on my right has a large ‘15’ on it in black, but I already know we’re not on the fifteenth floor of BMAC any more. We’re in the Movers’ Prison.
I can feel Hartman watching me and I do my best to follow what Rani said before they took her away. Don’t let them see you’re afraid. I take a deep breath and force myself to be calm. There’s a tingle in the base of my neck. My Shadow’s with me. I’m not alone.
‘Such a Move as the one your friend achieved over Romsey has never been seen before,’ says Hartman. ‘The scale, the power. There is much BMAC needs to learn from Gabriela Vargas so we can avoid that kind of destruction to our city again. You must understand how important it is that we find her?’
I look her dead in the eye and keep my voice as steady as I can. ‘I don’t know where she is.’
Hartman nods. ‘All right. Maybe we can help you brainstorm where she might be.’
She leads me deeper into the Movers’ Prison, and all there is to see are blue lights and close black walls. I feel ice creeping over my neck, reminding me that somewhere behind them is my dad.
We walk into what looks like a large dark theatre. Fold-down seats, just like at the movies, encircle a giant convex window. We’re looking down on what looks like an operating room, a cold steel bed with restraints and all kinds of monitors and instruments that don’t look friendly.
‘Have a seat, Mr Mermick,’ says Hartman, who’s already sitting, facing the window. Her back is ramrod straight, and her hands are finally in front of her, folded in her lap like she’s waiting for high tea.
I sit down slowly, like somehow the chair will come loose and fall through the window, delivering me to the operating room below.
As soon as I do, the lights in the operating room turn on, so bright I have to squint. When my eyes adjust I can see a little man in a lab coat working near the table. He turns and he’s carrying a tray of syringes. Three syringes. My hands grip tight to my armrests, and I feel my forehead getting damp even though I’ve started to shiver.
Then the doors open and I have to stand up when I see who it is. Rani, her arms bound, followed by Special Agent Frost.
I look to Hartman. ‘What is this?’
Rani scans the room, her eyes lingering on the window above. My cheeks feel as if they’re on fire and I can tell she can’t see me. She knows someone is watching though; why else would there be a window?
The man in the lab coat fills the first syringe and orders Rani to lie down. She stares at the needle in his hand and I wait for the blow, for her forebrawler instincts to lash out and shatter the hideous thing. She doesn’t. Instead, she obeys, carefully lifting herself onto the steel table and lying down, without her mouth so much as twitching.
I can’t remember how to breathe. My brain won’t work, can’t think what to do, won’t process what’s about to happen.
Special Agent Frost straps down her arms and her legs and waist and that’s when I notice Rani’s chest, rising and falling as quickly as my own.
‘She doesn’t know anything,’ I tell Hartman. ‘She has nothing to do with anything!’
Hartman is redoing her ponytail. ‘Rani Nair is a wanted Mover, Mr Mermick. She broke the rules.’
‘You want Gabby!’ I say. ‘Rani didn’t do anything!’
‘Rani Nair moved her Shadow and has evaded justice for five years.’
My arm goes numb as the doctor injects something into Rani’s bicep.
‘What is that?’
‘Just an atropine. Such a shame. Had she come to us when she was still a minor, Shelving wouldn’t be necessary.’
‘What?’
‘Well, she’s an adult now, Mr Mermick. If she’d turned herself in when she was sixteen, this could have been avoided.’
The doctor injects something else into her arm and I don’t ask. I don’t want to know.
‘When a minor is guilty of Movement—’ satisfied that her ponytail is secure, Hartman rests her chin in her hand – ‘the punishment is far less severe. They’re only children after all.’
I can barely hear her over the pulse pounding in my ears, but I know I don’t believe her for a second. If she Shelved me now, who would stop her? Mom’s locked up in a cell. And if she Shelved Gabby, who would know? Gabby’s parents are gone. The power, Hartman said. The scale. How hard would it be to convince Nowbies that Gabby was too dangerous not to send to sleep?
Movers Page 17
