CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Failure to attend bi-yearly health exams can result in accidental erasure from the system, which could cause the cameras and turrets to mistake you for a Surface Dweller.
—SIGN IN THE MEDICAL SECTOR WAITING AREA
“Subs? Are you serious? That’s great. So, what’s the plan?” He looks as happy as a child with spare credits in the candy store. It surprises me that he isn’t bopping up and down on his toes and clapping his hands. Then he stops and his eyes meet mine. “You said I’m going to use one. You’re still not planning on leaving with me.” It’s not a question.
“No. My life is here, Gavin.”
“Do you still really believe she thinks you have nothing to do with this? She’s not stupid, Evie, and neither are you. She knows you’re behind this and she’s never going to let you get away with it. Do you really want to lose all your memories? Again?”
I look down at the ground. He’s right, and I know it. But if he’s gone, is there any reason to remember this? Better question: if he’s gone, will I want to remember this? “We’ll figure it out when we get there,” I say after a moment. I can’t tell him what I’m thinking; there’s no way he’d understand.
I can feel his gaze on me, but don’t look at him. “Yes, I suppose we will.” He sounds tense, but he drops it.
I look down at the map again. “Well, we have to get to the other side of the city. It’s in Sector Three. Looks like we’re going to have to take the Tube after all. It’s the only way to get there. That’s going to be fun.” I roll my eyes, feeling a little proud of myself for the unladylike gesture. Not to mention the sarcasm. “I’m not even sure how we’re going to get to it, let alone get into it and to Sector Three without someone noticing us.”
“The Tube?”
“It’s like a”—what do they call them?—“a subway? Train? Anyway, it goes through a tube from here to Sector Three.”
He nods his head and points back at the book still in my lap. “Maybe there’s something in the journal. How was he going to do it?”
I read quickly through the entries again, but the only thing I can get out of it is he was in such a hurry, he was just hoping no one—including Mother—would notice a whole Sector fleeing at the same time, but didn’t hold out much hope for that.
I have to wonder if his plan worked, though. Maybe they did get away with leaving all at once—it’s not like anyone really looks different. It’s not as if we really look different. I’ll fit in easily enough, especially if I dress exactly like the others. It’s just a matter of finding a change of clothes.
The problem will be Gavin. His hair is an almost perfect match, even if it’s a bit dark and dirty. His eyes and skin are the catch.
“We’re in trouble. Your skin is too dark and your eyes are all wrong. There’s nothing we can do to hide them,” I say, my voice thick with frustration.
He shrugs, and I fight the urge to kick him. He’s not taking this seriously.
“My eyes are gray. It’s not that easy to tell blue from gray from a distance in sunlight, let alone the shadows in this place. It’ll be all right.”
I tilt my head to the side as I stare at him. Actually, he’s got a point. If he keeps his eyes averted, we cover most of his skin and we don’t get too close to people, we should be fine.
Now I just have to get better fitting clothes for him. Preferably something not all ripped and dirty.
He looks down at himself the more I continue to stare. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to get you cleaned up and dressed.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“This is a duplicate of Sector Two, which means there should be apartments on the other side of the Square. Since the lights work, let’s try to get into one and find out if the water works, too.”
He turns toward the weapons. “We should probably take some of these, too. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to take the chance of running into an Enforcer without something to defend myself.”
“Good idea.”
I bend down over the pile of weapons and look closely at them. While they’re covered in dust, they appear to be in working order and fully intact. I pull out two of each weapon and lay them across the ground at our feet, checking them for damage as I go.
“These will have to do. Take one of each.” I gesture to the four guns.
“What are they?” he asks, and lifts one of the rifles, studying it closely. He holds it gently, cradling it in his arms. Not in fear, but in love. It’s strange, but Mother did say Surface Dweller men were fond of their weapons. I guess she was right.
“That’s an M50 Reising. It’s a submachine gun, but it was actually designed as a compact semi-automatic carbine that is also capable of fully automatic fire. It has an automatic fire rate of four hundred fifty to six hundred rounds per minute.” He gapes at me. I hand him a small handgun. “That last one is a bit old-fashioned. You’ll probably get more use out of this. It’s a plasma pistol. It heats up the air to a comfy eight-hundred-and-fifteen degrees Celsius, creating a ball of plasma, which it shoots in any direction you want, effectively ending the life of almost anything it comes into contact with.”
He stares at it. “I guess I shouldn’t put this in my pants then.”
I can’t help but laugh at his expression. It’s a cross between horror and fascination.
“Relax. It will only go off if you press the trigger and the safety in the back here. It’s not even loaded right now. You need the silver canisters to charge it. Don’t worry,” I say. “You’ll have more problems with the Reising going off accidentally than you will the pistol.”
He doesn’t seem so sure, but he carefully places it in his pocket. Then he pulls the strap of the Reising over his shoulder, obviously a lot more comfortable with that than the pistol. I load the two backpacks I found in the metal cabinet with ammo, grenades, and mines.
I split them evenly, and then heft the first bag and sling it over my other bag.
Gavin does the same, grunting a little. He turns to me. “These are heavy. How the hell did you lift them?”
“This is nothing. Can’t weigh more than a few kilos, I’m sure. I saw you move those boxes; you should have no problems lifting it.”
“How do you know all this?” he asks, gesturing to his Reising. “The guns?
“I—” I stare at him, then the gun in his hands. “I don’t know. I guess it’s another thing I have to figure out what it means.” Not again. I rub my fingers over the pendant, hoping for even just a spark of a memory.
“Why are you doing that?” he asks, staring at my pendant.
“I don’t remember where I got this,” I say softly. From my memory with the perfume, I have an idea. But the actual memory itself, right now, is lost. I run my fingers over it, then take it back and curl my hand around it, letting the chain dangle from between my fingers. “But sometimes, when I realize I’m forgetting things, I can start getting some of the memories back, if I concentrate on this long enough. Certain scents are the same way. Not all memories. Maybe not even most. But I have to hope it’ll be enough and one day, I’ll remember everything.”
I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin, waiting for the look, but instead he wraps his hands around mine over the pendant. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help you remember who you are.”
* * *
A few minutes later, we walk into the Residential area of this abandoned Sector. The elevator still works, so we close the gate and push the button for the topmost floor. At first it does nothing, but then with a jerk it rushes up. At the top floor we let ourselves into one of the apartments farthest from the elevators. None of the doors are locked and again I wonder if it’s because Mother plans on filling this place with people from Three.
These apartments are exactly like the ones that are in Sector Two. It amazes me how well they’ve held up over the years. The only damage is a blanket of dust and a few spider webs. The couch is in perfect shape, as is the w
ood on the end tables and the flat screen television in the corner. It looks so strange sitting where the holo-projector should be. I want to turn it on, to see if it’s one of those 3-D ones that were so popular before the holos, but there’s no time.
I show Gavin to the bathroom, which is all gray granite, and cross my fingers when I twist the handle of the shower. After a few long seconds where nothing happens, water rushes out and pounds against the granite of the shower stall. There isn’t any soap or shampoo, and the water is barely above freezing, but he’ll be able to rinse off all the dirt at least.
I hear Gavin’s cursing as he steps under the spray and can’t help but laugh.
While he showers, I go through the wardrobe in the sleeping quarters to find suitable clothes for him and myself. Looking like me isn’t going to help me anymore. Neither is looking like the Daughter of the People.
I’m in luck. It looks like a family lived here. Or at least a Couple. There is a full selection of clothes that should fit Gavin. I pull out a pair of slate gray slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a tie that matches the slacks. They should cover his skin nicely.
Then I slip into a summer dress. It’s a little short, but other than that it fits like it was made for me. It’s also made from cotton, so I won’t stick out as much as if I were wearing my silk dress.
I find a pair of black leather sandal wedges that I can run in if I need to, then I gather up Gavin’s clothes and step into the bathroom to set them on the counter for him.
In a classic case of worst possible timing, he steps out of the shower just as I look up from the clothes. My jaw drops and I have to force myself to shut it. I can’t help it—my eyes travel the whole lovely way from his muscled shoulders to his stomach and back up again. Water slides gloriously over every muscle, causing them to glisten in the lights.
I’m barely aware that I’m staring until he says, “Enjoying the view?”
Heat rushes into me and I blush from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. I quickly avert my gaze to the wall behind him. “I’m so sorry. I just meant to drop off your clothes for you. I, uh, I’ll see you … out there … when you’re finished.”
I rush out the door on shaky legs. The minute I hit the living room, I lower myself to the couch and stare off into space.
Oh, Mother. My mind keeps replaying what I just saw. Wavy, golden hair. Thick muscular chest, hard, toned abs. Bronzed skin. And … I shake my head. That is not something I should be thinking about.
I fan a hand in front of my face. It feels hot, like someone has raised the temperature a good twenty degrees.
I pick up the journal to try to read it while I wait, but I can’t concentrate. The only thing I can think of is Gavin.
He steps into the doorway between the living room and bedroom. I stand up quickly, embarrassed to be caught thinking about him, and the journal drops to the floor with a thud.
He gives me a look, then holds out the tie. “I’m not wearing this,” he says, as if daring me to argue.
He looks even better wearing the clothes I gave him. I can’t help myself. I find my legs carrying me across the floor to him.
I’m not even sure what I’m doing. Why I’m doing it. But I want to, need to.
I push myself up onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his. Caught off guard, he stumbles backward, but he recovers quickly.
I wind my arms around his neck and he places his hands on my hips and pulls me closer. My heart pounds so hard all I can hear is the whoosh of blood in my ears and the gasping of our breaths colliding.
The hallway was so dark, I couldn’t even see Timothy, but I knew he was there. I heard the uneven gasps of his breath and felt them against my face. His hands were still on my cheeks.
“Are you going to tell her?” he asked.
“First thing in the morning,” I replied, feeling the familiar tickle in my stomach.
“You won’t forget?” he teased. Then before I could reply he kissed me again, pressing me against the wall behind me. The concrete was cold against my skin, and I pressed harder into the warmth of his body.
I closed my eyes. Cold air rushed in between us and I opened them only to see we were in Mother’s parlor. Timothy stood in front, between two Guards. His eyes blackened and blood running from his broken nose.
Two bullets ripped into his chest, hitting both lungs. He collapsed to his knees as the Enforcer that shot him stepped back into the darkness. But just before she did, she looked up at me and I found myself staring into my own face.
I yank away and clap my hands over my mouth trying to shove my heart back where it belongs. It wasn’t real. I don’t know anyone named Timothy, and I didn’t kill him.
Gavin steps away, gasping. “I-I’m sorry. Are you all right?”
I back away and turn around, so he can’t see the tears trying to force their way to the surface. I swallow them and hug myself until I’m sure my chattering teeth won’t come back.
“Evie?” He places a hand on my shoulder.
I yank away and stride to the door. “The tie is unnecessary. You can leave it.”
He looks at me a moment, then finishes dressing.
Minutes later we’re cautiously pulling the door to the rest of the city open again.
The “memory” replays in my head, but I force it away. I can’t try to remember it now. I need to focus on not getting us killed.
The store with the window Gavin broke is blocked off and Guards linger around it. We stick to the shadows, but they don’t even glance in our direction. The crowd thickens the closer we get to the Square, but we’re able to move through the Bazaar and across the Square with minimal fuss since no one likes looking in the shadows and we aren’t running into Enforcers.
The only problem is Gavin is gawking again. I can’t blame him for gaping at the people spinning around wearing their colorful costumes. Mother wanted it to be like some huge party the Surface Dwellers had before the War. Mardi Gras, I think she called it. And it’s very pretty and colorful.
As we near the Tube station that will take us to Sector Three, I notice the crowd has thinned again. Everyone is at Festival. No one is using the trains and I thank whoever is looking out for me, because I don’t have to worry about tipping someone off when we step out of the shadows to cross to the Tube.
I sigh a breath of relief, then pause. I hear a hissing sound and the grinding of gears.
I look around, trying to figure out why I recognize the sound and why it makes my blood run cold. Suddenly my right shoulder is on fire. I slap a hand to it, feeling something wet, warm, and sticky. I glance over and see my hand covered in blood, and more is pouring over my fingers. When I pull my hand away, there’s a hole in my dress, right in the center of the bloodstain. A hole that can mean only one thing.
I’ve been shot.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Due to her perfect genetics, Evelyn Winters has been chosen as my daughter. However, Evelyn is not just my daughter: She is everyone’s daughter. The Daughter of the People. She loves you as I do and you are to love her in return. Anything less will not be tolerated.
—MOTHER, FROM EVELYN’S DEBUT SPEECH
Screams fill the air as the turret claims victim after victim. I fall to the ground, pulling Gavin with me. His eyes are as round as saucers when he sees the blood soaking my dress.
He stands, trying to remove the backpack, but I yank him back down to the ground.
“Stay down,” I hiss. “Do you want the turret to see you?”
“See me?” he whispers back, but at least he’s lying on the ground. Then he blinks. “A turret hit you?”
“Yes. What do you think hit me?”
He lifts his eyes toward the ceiling before he closes them. “Well, what do we do? We can’t just lie on the ground until the Guards come.”
“No, we can’t. But they won’t come until the turret stops. Then they’ll collect the bodies and move on. So we’ll just have to move quickly when it stops.” I press a hand
to the wound, wincing when the pressure brings tears to my eyes. That can’t be a good thing.
“How long will that be?” He’s staring at my blood-covered hand now and his voice wavers slightly. “You’ll bleed to death if we wait too long.”
“Stop it!” My voice is rougher than I intend from the effort it’s taking to stop my teeth from chattering. Being shot hurts a lot more than I thought it would. Like liquid fire covering my shoulder. “It’s just a small wound. Probably a through-and-through. It didn’t hit any major arteries or I’d be bleeding a lot more.” I glance around and notice the turret has claimed only four people. Three are moving around and moaning. One isn’t. Everyone else has disappeared. The turret pulls back into the ceiling with a hiss, its job done. “Move! Now! Get in the shadows.”
To his credit, Gavin bolts to the shadows without question. I follow closely at his heels. “We have to keep moving. The Guards will come with Enforcers soon,” I say, and push him in the direction of the Tube station, which is just a few meters away and completely empty. We’ll have to wait to use it until the Guards and Enforcers leave, but we should be safe. It’ll give me time to assess the wound and bandage it properly.
Unfortunately when I fell, I got all turned around and we ran to the wrong side of the terminal. In order to get to the train, we’ll have to cross back over to the other side.
I listen for a second and then, when I don’t hear anything, tug on Gavin’s arm and dash across the terminal. He follows without hesitation. But the turret must still be malfunctioning, because the minute it senses us, it drops from the ceiling again and starts shooting. We both drop to the ground immediately.
“What the hell is going on?” Gavin demands.
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