Captives

by Jill Williamson

  Someone passed down the hallway outside the open door to his room.

  “Hey!” He reached out and noticed that his hands were coated in gold glitter.

  A woman stepped through the doorway. An angel, white and glowing with sapphire eyes. Eyes like Belbeline’s. “Good!” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re awake.”

  Not Belbeline. A blonde. A medic. “Why am I here?”

  “You OD’d,” the angel said. “And since you were in uniform, they brought you to me.”

  Omar frowned. “OD?”

  “Overdose. Too much. Your body couldn’t handle what you put in it.”

  Omar bristled at the insinuation he was weak. “Really? It felt good.”

  The medic gave him a one-sided grin. “It usually does the first time or two. If I were you, I’d quit while I was still alive. There are much safer poisons.” She glanced out the door. “Someone wants to see you.” She pushed off the doorway and left.

  Let it be Belbeline, sick with worry and begging his forgiveness.

  But seconds later, Mason appeared, looking clean in a turquoise medic outfit, hair neatly combed. “Hey, brother,” Mason said. “Glad to see you up. You’ve been trying the vaporizers?”

  Mason tasking as a medic—figured. “Yeah, I have.” And you can’t control me, Mason, so don’t try.

  Mason walked up to Omar’s bedside and examined the bag of fluid. “Which stims? Do you even know?”

  Mason’s tone filled Omar with a rush of anger. “Do you? I’m not stupid, Mason.”

  Mason tipped back his head and smiled. “Right. I forgot how you planned all this and got half our village killed. Good one, Omar. Brilliant, really. My favorite part was when you almost killed yourself too.”

  “Are you just going to stand here and lecture me?”

  “A little, yes. So you’re trying the PVs and drinking. And what about women, Omar? Have you been intimate with women too?”

  “Why’s any of this your business?”

  “You have the thin plague, Omar. You’re infected.”

  Nausea rolled in Omar’s stomach. He fought to keep his features even, calm. “So give me the cure.”

  Mason coughed out a half laugh. “You know very well there’s no cure, brother. That’s why we’re all here. Thanks to you. But it’s a slow death, if that makes you feel better.”

  “Why are you being so mean?”

  Mason winced, as if thinking it through. “Papa Eli used to say, ‘A person becomes wise by watching what happens to himself when he’s a fool.’ I love you Omar, and I can’t let you do this to yourself. You’ve made some really bad choices. But now you have the chance to become very wise—if you learn from your experiences.” He patted Omar’s leg and left.

  Omar lay back on the bed, exhausted, longing for the peace he’d felt last night in a breath of brown sugar. Especially now that he knew he’d contracted a death sentence. He cursed and wondered if the task director general knew his girl had the plague. Belbeline was so beautiful, and she used those body paints that made her skin smooth. But of course, she was infected. They all were. Their dying nation was the main reason they’d talked Omar into helping them. Well, as the task director had predicted, he wasn’t very useful to the Safe Lands anymore, was he?

  He never had been very useful.

  Omar wanted his PV. Now. Would Mason return it when he left the medical center? If not, he’d just buy a new one. He was dying anyway. No reason to suffer more than necessary, right? In fact, the sooner he could numb himself, the better.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Mason slipped the CompuChart into the slot beside the door of exam room two and peeked into Ciddah’s office. “Exam two is ready.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Mason walked toward reception to see if Rimola had any new arrivals for him to check in. He stopped when he heard her talking with someone at the front desk.

  “You’re one of the new outsiders?” Rimola asked.

  “Yes,” a female voice said.

  “Good. None of us know what to do with the male conscript they sent us, Mason Elias. He’s so raven we can’t breathe, and he won’t flirt with anyone. It’s so prude.”

  Mason slowed his steps. He was prudish?

  “In fact,” Rimola went on, “he’s the prudest dish I’ve ever met. The things he says! It’s like he’s talking in another language.”

  “Yes,” the mystery woman said. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Mason recognized the voice. Jemma! Suddenly his feet couldn’t move fast enough.

  Jemma was standing on the other side of Rimola’s desk. Her eyes flashed wide, and a smile stretched across her face. “Mason!” She ran around the desk and wrapped him in a hug.

  He stiffened, not used to such physical affection. “How is Shaylinn?”

  Jemma released him. “Better than I would be. She said you guys had a nice talk. Thank you for being so kind to her.”

  His cheeks flushed, and he looked at the floor. “I wish I could have done something to—”

  “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Jemma asked.

  Mason glanced at the enforcer sitting in the waiting room. Why had Jemma come? She had no appointment. Rimola was tapping on her GlassTop, her eyebrows lifted as a sign of her intention to eavesdrop. Mason took Jemma’s sleeve and pulled her down the hallway.

  “Where are you going?” Rimola called after them.

  “We’ll be right back,” Mason said.

  He led Jemma to the end of the hall. When he was sure no one had seen them, he opened the supply closet door and flipped on the light. Jemma followed him inside and pushed the door shut behind her, bumping Mason so that he almost fell backward over the mop bucket. He grabbed the shelf to catch himself.

  “Here.” She pulled a wadded-up trash bag out of her purse and thrust it into his arms. “It’s from Levi. A two-way radio. I have one too. He said you’ll have to wait until he calls you.”

  Mason’s heart leapt at the thought of speaking with Levi. He wrapped the excess bag around the radio until it was a small roll and tucked it under the supply shelf so that it was completely invisible. “No one should find it there. Where’d you put yours?”

  “Under my mattress.”

  “Take care, Jemma. There are cameras everywhere.”

  “Not in my bedroom. But if Levi doesn’t get us out soon, I’m going to have to plan an escape. Kendall and Naomi don’t have much time.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” Mason said. “And what about the others? How will—”

  The door flew open. Jemma screamed.

  Ciddah stood in the doorway and stared at them. “What are you doing in here?”

  Mason started talking without thinking. “Exam room two needs a fresh gown, but Jemma came and needed, uh …” He lost his train of thought.

  “Mason was just showing me where he works,” Jemma said. “Then he was going to refill my prescription. I broke one of the vials.”

  “Mason doesn’t fill prescriptions,” Ciddah said. “I do.”

  “That’s what I was telling her.” Mason grabbed Jemma’s sleeve and pulled her out the door, cursing his stupidity and hoping Ciddah didn’t decide to search the supply closet.

  Ciddah’s footsteps clicked behind them, but Mason didn’t dare look back. They made it halfway back to the reception desk when Ciddah spoke.

  “I’d like to speak with you and your femme in my office, now, Mason.”

  He took a deep breath and led Jemma into Ciddah’s office.

  “Messy in here,” Jemma whispered.

  Ciddah brushed past them to stand behind her desk. Mason couldn’t look at her, for fear of the expression clouding her face. Granted, it had looked bad.

  “The Safe Lands Guild does not oppose pair-ups during breaks, but only when approved by the office task director. And I never approve of physical displays of affection in this office. People who come … many have miscarried. They don’t need t
o feel worse about their situations because of your carelessness.”

  “Doctor, Mason and I are not … romantic,” Jemma said as if the idea was ridiculous, which, he supposed, it was. “We grew up together. I’m engaged to marry Mason’s brother Levi. I’m sorry we didn’t ask permission before he gave me a tour.”

  “I see.” Ciddah’s posture relaxed. “Thank you for your honesty. It may interest you to know that the man called Levi was brought here a few days ago for a broken nose. He’ll recover. But he was taken to the RC for assaulting an enforcer, and he received a second X. Forgive me if my words are harsh, but if he were my lifer, I’d want to know.”

  If Jemma had seen Levi, she must have known all this. Still, tears pooled in her eyes and she said, “ ‘I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.’ “

  “Yes, well, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient waiting.” Ciddah walked around her desk and held open her office door. Mason and Jemma walked out, and Ciddah followed, closing the door behind them. “If you leave your information with the receptionist, I can have your new prescription delivered to the harem this afternoon.”

  “Thank you,” Jemma said.

  Ciddah glanced at Mason then stepped across the hall and entered exam room two.

  “Wow.” Jemma elbowed Mason. “She really likes you.”

  Jemma’s statement set off fireworks in Mason’s head.

  “No access?” Ciddah tapped on the GlassTop, her fingernails clicking with each stroke. “I can’t access the history files either. That’s so strange. Why would they hide them from people anyway? Are you even listening?”

  “Yes.” She was annoyed now. Ever since Jemma had confirmed Ciddah’s affection for Mason, he had been overanalyzing everything she said and did.

  They were alone in the History Center, which took up the entire third floor of the Treasury Building. It reminded him of the libraries in Old movies the scavengers had found. There were rows of shelves filled with books, real books that were not allowed to leave the room. But he and Ciddah were sitting at one of a dozen GlassTop desks that were around the perimeter wall, and the glow from their screens was brighter than any bulb on the ceiling.

  “I have questions of my own that I want answers to,” Ciddah said. “It’s clear I can’t trust Lawten. I can’t trust anyone. I should never have agreed to any of this. I knew better!”

  She was mumbling now, talking to herself. Mason watched her. The attraction he felt toward her was making him irrational. He’d never shared such stimulating conversations with anyone. But if she were to declare her affection, what would he do? She was a Safe Lander. There could be nothing romantic between them. He’d rather have her friendship than risk her avoiding him because he had to reject her.

  He didn’t think he could reject her.

  His heart started up again. What would he do if she said something? How would he respond? There was far too much risk in all of this. Risk of rejection and loss. Risk of infection like Omar.

  Ciddah looked at him. Their eyes met, and Mason felt awkward.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she asked.

  Why indeed? He looked away. Completely irrational.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  He was a logical prude, right? Well, he could provide her with a logical answer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was thinking about the women. The task director found an uninfected donor from another location.”

  Ciddah laid her hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry this is so difficult.”

  Her touch and sympathetic words confused and thrilled him, and he fought to keep focus. “I wonder why he complied. Was he blackmailed in some way?”

  “Maybe he hates his life in Wyoming. Maybe he’s simply more open-minded about saving lives.”

  That statement was like cold water; they’d already had this discussion. It would be enjoyable to debate it again, yet here was the perfect opportunity to discourage her affection. Mason picked up the notebook he’d been compiling his theories in and stood.

  Ciddah stood with him. “Where are you going?”

  “Home.” Mason started across the darkened room toward the elevator. As much as he loved being in her presence, it would be a relief to put distance between them tonight.

  “Why are you being like this?” Ciddah asked.

  He turned back and found her right behind him. “Like what?”

  “You owe me your theories,” she said. “It’s not my fault I don’t have access to the files. I kept my side of the bargain by coming tonight.”

  “A valid point.”

  She took his hand and tugged him back to his chair. “Why did you decide to study medicine?”

  “I thought you wanted to hear my theories. Why are you changing the subject?”

  Ciddah pushed out her bottom lip. “I want to understand you better. Please?”

  Her expression made him chuckle. Why did she have to be so alluring? He sat back down. He should return to his apartment, turn on the radio, and listen for Levi, not linger here with Ciddah Rourke.

  “I never liked killing, but I was born into the Elias tribe, and the Elias tribe are hunters. My friend Joel, he wanted to be a hunter more than anything and often tagged along on hunting trips. One day, the men set out to track a bear. Joel wanted to go. Wanted me to come too. I refused. But I loaned him my gun because it was a better weapon.”

  Mason’s pulse was too high. Why was he telling her this in so much detail?

  “Something happened?” Ciddah asked.

  Indeed. “Yes. An accident. Joel’s gun—my gun—backfired.” Irrational. He was out of control around this girl. The logical thing to do would be to protect his own mental state and pride by fleeing.

  “I’m so sorry.” Ciddah squeezed his hand.

  He made himself pull away. “People who lose a loved one, Ciddah … it’s hard to get over. Feelings run deep. I don’t want Shaylinn to have that pain.” Which reminded him of his theories. Omar must be Shaylinn’s donor. Unless it was the man from Wyoming. “Why do they take babies away from their mothers? Have they always done this?”

  “As far as I know.”

  Perhaps this is why Ciddah was so moody and insecure. “One of the first textbooks I read was a child psychology book. Did you know that when a child is born, it needs to bond with its mother, and the sooner the better? Studies of Old showed that babies who bonded with their mothers were more secure in life and had better relationships with others as adults.”

  “Our children seem to get along together just fine.”

  More facts poured into his brain. “Infected women should avoid narcotics and alcohol. They burden an already weak immune system. Everyone I see seems to be vaping. They’re only killing themselves faster.”

  Ciddah rubbed her eyes. “Thank you, O wizened one.”

  “Wait—you know this? Then why don’t you do something about it?”

  “It’s not that easy, Mason,” Ciddah said. “Our way of life … people like it.”

  “You could at least let the women know that drugs and alcohol are bad for them.”

  “I do. They know. And I’ve reminded many. Some women do avoid stimulants. But it’s never made any difference. People are just trying to enjoy this life and get to the next one with as much good fortune as they can earn.”

  Fortune indeed. “ ‘For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith.’ “

  Ciddah fought a smile. “That’s, um, lovely. What’s it mean?”

  “That you can’t earn your way to heaven—or Bliss. It’s what I believe.”

  She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Now wait a minute. You just said you became a doctor out of guilt for the death of your friend. It sounds like you’re trying to earn fortune, just like the rest of us.”

  Her comment rocked Mason to his bones. Was he obsessed with works? He’d never meant to be. He thought of the lies Shaylinn believed. Was he punishing himself for Joel’s death? Serving a life of penance
? “Sometimes it’s not easy to live out your faith.”

  “Then why bother?”

  “Because I believe there’s only one life before eternity. Not ten.”

  “Nine,” Ciddah said. “The tenth life is eternity in Bliss.”

  Ah, the tenth life. “I’m sorry, but that begs the question, how do you explain transmigration along with your population decrease?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When your people die and those souls are transferred to new bodies for new lives, wouldn’t there be a shortage of bodies? Where do all the souls stay while they wait?”

  “I don’t …” Ciddah scowled at him. “Why are you always arguing with me?”

  She was upset again. “Argue is the wrong word choice, Ciddah. There is no anger or frustration involved. I’m simply trying to help by pointing out where your logic is flawed.”

  “You’re trying to help me by criticizing me?”

  This was pointless. His goal in coming here tonight had been to get Ciddah’s assistance in accessing the medical history of the Safe Lands. If she couldn’t help him, Lawten had never intended to allow Mason to learn anything here. Though why the task director had made the offer at all, Mason still didn’t understand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Wait. Do you want to share a taxi? I live in the Westwall too.”

  She did? And how did she know where he lived? He’d never said. “Not tonight, no.”

  But as Mason sat alone in the taxi, riding back to the Westwall —Ciddah’s face and smell and touch heavy on his mind—all he could think of was Come back, come back, so that I may gaze upon your beauty!

  She was the wrong woman for him in so many ways, but the words still rang in his head.

  Come back.

  Once Mason was home, he turned the two-way radio to channel four and set it on his kitchen counter. He watched TV for a bit and had nodded off when he heard Levi’s voice.

  “This is Jackrabbit with a call out to Eagle Eyes. Do you copy?”

  Mason scrambled to get up from the couch and grabbed the two-way radio off the counter. “This is Eagle Eyes. I copy. Over.”

  “Eagle Eyes, you beautiful bird, you. Where you been?”