Charged

by G. P. Ching

  “David gave me the key.”

  “What?”

  “I have a vial of Maxwell’s blood. Your father gave it to the Liberty Party council as a backup, in case anything happened to him. David gave it to me.”

  “David,” he says contemptuously. He scrubs his face with his hand, and I wince. He must be in pain. His knuckles are split open. His lip is swollen and he’s sporting a black eye. By his stiff upper body, I can tell other injuries exist under the T-shirt he threw on over the red silk shorts.

  “You’re hurt. Do you need more juice?” I reach for his hand.

  “No. Save it. We might need it later.”

  I don’t like the thought of him walking around in this cesspool with an open wound, but he’s right. “Do you know the way?”

  Korwin looks up and down the pipe we’re standing in, then nods his head. “Yeah.”

  We start walking along the ridge of concrete beside the stream of sewage, but then Korwin stops abruptly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He turns and unfastens the collar around my neck, tossing it into the muck. “Just putting this where it belongs.”

  I nod my approval and we continue on our quest in silence. I’m not sure how long we walk. My mind goes somewhere else, replaying the events of the last several days. With the adrenaline waning, my strength ebbs and I become weepy, crossing my arms across my chest to try to physically keep myself together when I feel as though I may break apart at any moment. “Do you think a person can go through what we’ve been through and not be… damaged?”

  For several moments, he doesn’t answer me. I think, maybe, he hasn’t heard me. I think to ask the question again, but he clears his throat.

  “No,” he says.

  The simple answer makes the tears flow more freely down my cheeks. “I thought not.”

  “Damaged isn’t ruined,” he says. “We’ve survived. We’ve done the best we can do, given the circumstances.”

  “Sometimes I wonder what we did to deserve the lot we were handed.” In Hemlock Hollow, when something bad happens, like a baby is stillborn or someone loses a leg in a farming accident, they call it God’s will. But maybe not this. Considering I was accused of being a witch, I suppose this would be considered Satan’s will. Sadly, as I think about the course of events, I believe Dr. Konrad’s will is at fault. I doubt God had anything to do with it.

  We reach a fork in the pipe and we turn left. “How are you doing?” He glances at my glowing hand, our only light. I’ve kept it lit for at least an hour.

  “Okay. A little tired but not bad.”

  “Good. We’re almost there.” He continues on.

  Maybe it’s the fatigue, or the long stretch of silence, but the sewer takes on the contemplative quality of a confessional. “I almost killed Alpha tonight.”

  He pauses to glance back at me. “I’m sure he had it coming.”

  “He knew who we were.”

  Korwin’s eyes widen. “How?”

  “He remembered me from a year ago and did his research.”

  Brow furrowed, Korwin starts moving again—slowly, absently. “Do you think he knew who Brady was? Were they working together for the reward?”

  “I don’t think so. He was trying to use what he knew to have his way with me. He could have been lying, but he said he was the only one who knew.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Yeah. Hurting him though, on purpose, it was… strange.”

  “Believe me, the guilt you’re feeling will fade with time. It was him or you. You were generous to keep him alive.”

  “But that’s just it; I don’t feel guilty.”

  He flashes me a confused look. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Something happened in the forest on my way to you,” I say. “Something that changed me.”

  “The forest outside the reactor?”

  I nod. “A flasher went off and I tried to destroy it. There were too many.” I shake my head, remembering the tip and skid of the motorcycle. “Afterward, there was a wolf.”

  “A wolf, like the animal?”

  I laugh. “What other wolf would there be?”

  “I thought they were dangerous. Did it attack you?”

  “We stared at each other for a long time and, yes, the wolf attacked.”

  Korwin looks over his shoulder at me, confused.

  “I covered my face when it leapt at me, but it never… It felt as though it landed inside of me. It felt like… like the wolf became part of me.”

  He squints at me. “Do you mean, like the wolf wasn’t real? A projection of your imagination?”

  I think about that, while I take a deep breath of thick air. “No. I’d been praying just before. Asking God to show me his will for my life. I think the wolf was a vision. Maybe God’s answer? But I’m not sure what it means.”

  “And you say the wolf jumped into you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And there was only one?”

  “Mmmmhmmm.”

  “Don’t you think that’s weird? Wolves usually travel in packs.”

  “This one was alone.”

  “A lone wolf is the leader of its own pack. Maybe it was a sign, encouragement that you were headed in the right direction by breaking out on your own.”

  “The wolf appeared to me after I almost killed Alpha. She seemed happy about it.”

  Korwin snorts. “The imaginary wolf was happy you defended yourself?”

  “I think so.”

  He sighs. “I’m not sure what the wolf means. Maybe she is a vision or a figment of your imagination, but if she helps you do what you have to do to survive, I like her.”

  We make a hard right and Korwin reaches one hand forward. Although it appears that the pipe continues into the distance, his hand bounces off the air. “We’re here.”

  I run my hand along the invisible pressure blocking our path. “How do we use Maxwell’s blood to get through this?” I dig in my pack for the vial.

  Korwin traces the curve of the pipe with his gaze. “Dad always had three levels of security. First, a deterrent to finding the lock. We are in the sewer, which you would think would be deterrent enough, but I’m guessing no. He wouldn’t settle for easy.” He points at the center of the stream of sewage. “There’s a slight break in the flow, like something is under the surface.”

  I wince.

  “I take by your expression that you want me to do this part.”

  Biting my lip, I hold up the vial. “Someone has to hold the blood.”

  He reaches for the vial, and I pull it away with a chuckle. It amazes me that I can laugh about anything at the moment, but the connection between us, the love we share, works as a buffer against the reality of our situation. As long as we’re together and breathing, there will always be laughter and always be home.

  “Here goes nothing.” He plunges his hand into the filthy muck and feels around the bottom. “Ah.” With a twist of his arm, he opens a panel. The lid is designed to break the flow of sewage, with barriers on the sides to keep the access point clean and dry. Inside, there’s a keyboard and a red glass square with a picture of a fingerprint etched in the glass. A small rectangular screen blinks Enter Access Code.

  “Do you know the code?” I ask Korwin.

  With his clean hand, he types a series of letters and numbers. “Hopefully, it’s the same one as before.”

  Place finger on reader.

  “Is it asking for Maxwell’s fingerprint? I thought it needed blood?”

  Korwin frowns, his finger poised over the red glass. “Fingerprint recognition is an archaic technology. I think it’s a trick. Hand me the blood.”

  I take the cap off the vial and hand it to him. It’s a dumb thing to do. I release too soon and the vial falls through his fingers. He catches the top between his pinky and the heel of his palm, but not before blood splashes into the sewage. Our collective inhale echoes through the giant tube.

  I wade in, thankful for my motorcycle b
oots, and grab it by the bottom.

  “Is there any left?” His voice cracks.

  “I think so. A little.”

  “Don’t risk handing it to me again.” He points. “A drop on the red panel. Only, a drop. If I’m wrong, we’ll need the rest.”

  I don’t tell him that I think there is only a drop left. Gingerly, I lower the vial and tilt it a little at a time until the cylinder is almost upside down. One fat red drop rolls out and splatters on the red glass. Nothing happens.

  Korwin reaches a shaky hand down and taps the enter key. There’s a buzz and then the red glass lights up.

  Snap. We both jump back as the lid to the panel closes abruptly and sinks back into the muck. Korwin curses.

  I screw the cap back on the vial and return it to the side pocket of my backpack.

  “Jackpot,” Korwin says.

  I turn to see what he’s smiling at. Behind us is a circular entrance to a pristine white room. I take a step, and before my foot hits the floor a strong spray of liquid and air pummel me from all directions. I grip my backpack to keep it from flying off my shoulders from the pressure. Holding my breath, I squeeze my eyes shut against the onslaught. When I’m almost out of air, the spray dies down and a vacuum suction drives me forward. Only then do I dare open my eyes.

  Korwin is right next to me, panting and running a hand through his wet hair. The membrane has closed behind us. We are in a room with no doors and no windows.

  He looks at his hands and checks the bottoms of his soaking wet shoes, now clean. “The good news is, we don’t smell like crap anymore,” he says.

  I turn a circle looking for any imperfection in the walls that might indicate a way out. I find none. “When do you want to start talking about the bad news?”

  27

  Korwin smiles. He holds up a finger and presses an ear to the wall. Tipping his face toward the ceiling, he says, “Freedom.” The wall in front of us slides away. “Voice activated,” he explains as he steps through.

  “Convenient.”

  We enter another room with a Biolock door. If this is the room I escaped through a year ago, it will lead into the back hall of the compound. “We should be careful. We have no idea how deep the Greens have infiltrated.”

  He nods and places his palm on the Biolock. A pulse later and we slip into a stuffy hall. “It’s familiar but I’m disoriented. What side of the garden are we on?”

  An abstract painting of a man with an umbrella surrounded by bouncing red balls hangs on the wall beside us. “Northeast, unless David changed these after we were arrested.” He leads the way down the corridor silently, each of us vigilant for any signs of the Greens. If the compound has been occupied, there is no evidence. Dust collects on the artwork and the air hangs heavy and undisturbed.

  Korwin laughs through his nose as we pass the glass doors to the gardens. Everything is overgrown but alive.

  “Has someone been caring for it?” I ask.

  “No. It’s on a timer.” He looks up at the recessed lighting above us. “They’ve left the water and electricity on. The backup wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  He shrugs, frowning. With shifty eyes and quick steps, we continue past the library and the art studio. We touch nothing and speak rarely, and then only in whispers. Korwin stops in front of his bedroom, listens a moment, then carefully opens the door. The room hasn’t changed at all. The same artificial window, dark now because it’s night outside, hangs next to the same bed, made up under the same wool blanket. The room is neat, although I can make out a thin white film of dust on the floor.

  Korwin closes the door behind us and turns a lever to engage the Biolock. He places a finger to his lips before rounding the room to the bath. A few moments later, he emerges, running his fingers along every lamp, every piece of furniture. Inside each drawer.

  “What are you looking for?” I whisper.

  “Cameras, microphones. It’s clean. For now, it appears we are alone.” He places his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath.

  “So, we stay… here?”

  Korwin rubs his eyes with his hands. “It’s four a.m. The only thing holding us up is adrenaline, and I’m fairly sure you want to change out of that.”

  I look down at my green dress. The material is puckered and torn. If it was revealing before, it is now completely inappropriate. I cross my arms over my chest and hold what little fabric remains in place.

  “You go first.” He points to the bathroom. “It’s still fully stocked from before I was taken. I’d shower if I were you. That liquid we were sprayed with was probably a disinfectant. Best not to leave it on the skin.”

  I nod.

  “Do you need something to wear?”

  I shake my head. “I have a change of clothes in my pack.”

  He motions toward the door to the bathroom. I stand there for a minute, just breathing. And then it comes. The waterworks. I sob as if I’ve been carrying a heavy weight behind my tear ducts and I can finally lay it all down.

  Korwin crosses the room and puts his arms around me. “Shhh. It’ll be okay,” he says.

  “Will this ever stop? Will we ever find a place where we can be safe?” I blurt.

  His hand rubs my back and he pulls away slightly to make eye contact. “Lydia…”

  “I beat a Green Republic officer until he couldn’t get up. I wore a collar for a week and dressed like a whore. I was almost raped by a man and almost killed him.” I swallow and hold my arms out. “Who am I, Korwin?”

  “You’re a survivor.”

  I shake my head. “I could feel Alpha’s heart seize in his chest, and I didn’t care. Not in that moment.”

  “But you stopped. You didn’t kill him.”

  “Yes, I stopped, but don’t you see? This isn’t who I am. It’s not who I’m supposed to be.”

  Korwin rubs the back of his neck. “The Red Dogs and the collars, it was wrong, but we had to do it to survive. And we didn’t buy into it, Lydia. It was a disguise, nothing more.”

  I shake my head. “But surviving at what cost? And what now?”

  “Now we go on surviving.”

  “Do you think a person can fight the way we do, kill and hurt other people, and still have a soul?”

  He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes. “You have a soul, Lydia. A very good soul. A beautiful soul.”

  “But do you think God will forgive us for all of this?”

  He gives a curt nod. His hands drop from my shoulders.

  “You don’t believe there is a God,” I say bluntly.

  “I’m not sure what I believe, Lydia, but if there is, after all we’ve been through, I’m not sure about who should be forgiving whom. After all, He got us into this mess.”

  An artificial progression of light wakes me. The fake window on the wall is supposed to simulate a sunrise, but it’s a poor imitation. A multicolored butterfly flits across the glass and a lone white cloud floats in the distance. I wish I could believe the illusion.

  “I’m sorry I upset you last night,” Korwin says next to me.

  “Sorry you upset me but not sorry for what you said. You don’t believe in God anymore.”

  “We have to protect ourselves. I can’t think about faith right now.”

  I roll over and look at him. With a deep sigh, I say, “When’s the right time to think about faith?” My stomach growls, loud enough that he can hear it.

  “I’m hungry too,” he says. “Can we talk about this another time?”

  “I have some rations in my pack.” I sit up and grab the pack from against the wall. All the way on the bottom are two perfectly flat silver packets. One is labeled curried lentil and the other chicken noodle.

  “I call curried lentil,” Korwin says. “Breakfast of champions.”

  “Fine by me. It says we’re supposed to add hot water.” I turn over the package. “There’s a fork shrink-wrapped to the back.”

  He takes his packet and head
s for the bathroom faucet, turning the water on as hot as it will go. Once the pack is opened, there’s a line inside that shows us how much water to add. We stir the contents and try to wait the recommended three minutes.

  “This smells scrumptious,” I say. Truth be told, it smells like pig slop, but I am hungry enough to appreciate any food at all.

  “These are military rations,” he says. “You say David gave you these? Out of the goodness of his heart?” Korwin looks skeptically at his packet of food, as if it could be poisoned.

  “Not exactly. He made me promise to bring something back with me, besides you.”

  “What?”

  The alarm on Korwin’s watch interrupts us. Our three minutes are up. Famished, we both pause to dig in. My chicken noodle is a mushy paste of meat and vegetable chunks. I can’t get it down fast enough.

  I speak around a mouthful. “David said your father has some specimens locked in a safe and it is imperative that I retrieve them so that they will not be misused by the Greens.”

  Korwin narrows his eyes. “Specimens?”

  “He said there was a safe behind the blue palomino painting.”

  “What kind of specimens?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea. The bottom of my backpack has a chemical refrigeration unit. I’m supposed to bring them back to the reactor in that.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then David promised to leave us alone. I promised I’d retrieve the vials in exchange for him letting me go. I gave him my word.”

  “Hmm.” He frowns into his lentils, then scrapes the bottom of the packet and eats the last bite. “What do you say we go find these vials?”

  I finish my last bite of chicken paste and move to throw the empty packet in the garbage but Korwin shakes his head. “We can’t leave anything behind. The garbage comes with us.”

  “Oh.”

  “The fork goes inside and the packet folds in on itself to seal away the mess.” He shows me and we store everything in the backpack. Then I make the bed while he double-checks that everything is exactly how we found it.