Unequal

by B. E. Sanderson

  FOURTEEN

  Leaving the bedroom and their little war planning session, Rue focused her gaze toward the floor. She didn’t want to see the disappointment or the accusatory glares she was certain every person directed her way. If she could’ve walked away entirely, she would’ve.

  But she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Crispin brought her here. She hadn’t thought beyond that. If things had gone the way Justin wanted, they would’ve probably given her an apartment. A purpose. Now, she had no place to live and nothing to do.

  Raising her face, she shuddered as eyes turned away. Beyond the apartment lay empty space. Beyond the building, the DOE waited. They might not catch her today but sooner or later, she’d be back in the little cell waiting to be disappeared permanently. If not disappeared, then she’d be right back in the same position—stewing while they waited for answer to their proposal.

  Death or slavery. Some choice.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught someone beckoning toward her. The older man looked strangely out of place in this gathering of warriors. He waved again and then patted a chair next to him.

  This must be where they put the outcasts. She glanced at the door again. Even if she wasn’t wanted, being shuttled into a corner was better than the cell waiting for her outside.

  “Hello,” Rue said as she approached the man. Up close she noted he wasn’t as old as he seemed. Whatever his Unequal life had brought, it hadn’t aged him well. His hair was snow white. Wrinkles creased his face. But his eyes held a glimmer suggesting he was at most a couple decades older than her.

  “Evening,” he replied.

  “Have a seat,” he added, patting the chair again.

  She gave a mental shrug and lowered herself to the cushion. “Is this where the disappointments sit?”

  He gracefully ignored her question and held out one hand, unlined by age but crisscrossed with scars. “Max.”

  She placed her own calloused palm against his. “Rue.”

  “Regret or sorrow?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Your name,” he said, “has several meanings. I was merely wondering which was yours.”

  A grin tickled the corners of her mouth. Her mother’s face swam into her memory. “The story goes my father said they would rue the day they ever decided to apply for parenthood. Mother said my middle name was ‘Never’. I prefer to think foresight made her name me after something medicinal.”

  Max’s eyes twinkled and he tilted his head toward her. “Personally, I would’ve gone for the same angle myself. Why be saddled with something you had no choice about? Am I right?”

  She thought about the scene she just left. Max wasn’t kidding. But maybe she’d found her first ally. “Exactly.”

  “So it’s no wonder when someone tries to place a different saddle on your back, you rear up and lash out.”

  If she hadn’t read so many books, she wouldn’t have had any idea what he was talking about. In fact, she wasn’t sure how he came to know about horses and saddles. Not that it mattered. Unequals knew things the Equals didn’t.

  “Justin never seems to quite grasp the concept, despite spending years in my job. You can’t force people to think how you think, no matter how much you want to. And you certainly can’t force them to do something they don’t believe in.”

  A twinge of guilt gnawed at her belly. It had been rude of her to assume Justin had killed his predecessor—especially with the supposed corpse sitting next to her.

  “But then again,” he continued, patting her leg, “you might try a little sugar and convince them wearing a saddle isn’t the same as submitting to slavery. Sometimes two living creatures can travel together along a path, each with its own ultimate destination in mind.”

  Rue stopped breathing. Right when she figured she’d found someone who wasn’t on the ‘encourage, badger, berate’ committee. And maybe someone who might understand her point of view.

  “Interesting tactic.” She removed his gentle hand. “I might not have ever seen a horse, but I have heard about the carrot and the stick. I never expected to experience it in person.”

  “Justin was the stick, and I’m the carrot?”

  She shook her head. “Justin hasn’t had time to utilize his stick, but I’m certain he’s hiding it somewhere. The way I’m pretty sure you’re on the verge of offering me a carrot.”

  He surprised her again by laughing. The sound drew a half dozen pairs of eyes toward them, but no one approached. Judging from their apprehension, this conversation wasn’t to be interrupted. “You’ve got it a little skewed, but you might be onto something. I wouldn’t have pegged myself as the carrot wielding sort.” He snorted. “And despite your experiences with my nephew, he’d be offended at the suggestion he was any kind of stick.”

  Rue’s stomach lurched. Not only was her foot in her mouth, but it was a nastier experience than she expected. The one thing worse would be to find out Hubert was Shiraz’s mother. “I’m sorry.”

  He reached out to pat her leg again, but appeared to think better of it. “No. You’re not. But it’s okay. It’s refreshing to have someone to talk to who doesn’t look at me as though I’m the next coming of Christ.” His comment caught Rue by surprise, so much so she was afraid she’d fall out of her chair. Max’s hand on her shoulder kept her upright. His own deep chuckle followed. “It’s also refreshing to see you can be shocked. Actually, it’s good to discover I have the ability to shock anyone these days. Once upon a time, I made a business of it.”

  “Before the Equalization Laws, you mean?”

  One eyebrow rose. “It’s hard to shock people when doing so would get you first class accommodations at the DOE compound.” He pushed himself off the chair and held a hand out to her. “What say we take a little walk?”

  “So you can convince me to sew up your cannon fodder?” she asked, even as she grasped his hand.

  He tugged her to her feet and looped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “No. So I can be seen walking with a pretty girl. Shiraz isn’t fond of taking walks, and everyone else is too busy.”

  “And you aren’t busy?”

  “I gave up being busy after Justin took the reins. My job lately is to sit back and play at advising.” Leaning toward her, he whispered in her ear, “Not that they listen to me anyway. To many of these young men, I’m as useless as tits on a boar hog.”

  She stifled a chuckle as he escorted her from the room. All eyes followed them, but nobody tried to stop their progress. A few heads nodded, as if they already believed Max would change her mind. Their assumptions made her want to dig her heels in harder. Nothing he could say would change her mind. She wasn’t going to help these people kill themselves.

  He led her out of the apartment and toward the far end of the building and a pair of glass doors. Beyond lay a rooftop garden that might’ve seen better years before the DOE started tightening down on the inequality of some having fresh food while others didn’t.

  “A little sunlight and a nice breeze should do us both good,” he said as he pushed the doors wide. She hadn’t been in a garden of any sort since leaving her parents’ home. Even this feral spot was refreshing.

  “Are those tomatoes?”

  He followed her gaze toward a grouping of wild looking plants. “Shiraz’s babies. She plants what she can whenever she can. Without access to gardening supplies, she works miracles.”

  “Their existence here is incredible enough.” Her respect for the troubled young woman was growing. If Rue could get past the anger, they might have a chance at becoming friends. Until then, though, it was best to stay out of the girl’s way.

  As they strolled across the roof, they stopped to look at more of Shiraz’s handiwork. Max pointed out a small patch of herbs Crispin was attempting to cultivate. This tree was nurtured by another woman and her son. The bush over there was tended by a lonely, old widower whose wife had been disappeared last year.

  And with every bit of extra knowledge he impart
ed about the Unequals, the stress of Rue’s decision increased. They were probably all certain she was being hasty and harsh, but she had to believe what she did was right.

  She expected him to begin coaxing a different conclusion out of her, to try and sway her to his way of thinking. But they wandered for she assumed was about an hour without his attempt at anything of the sort. The times he did speak, he talked about the plants and the people. Occasionally, she would insert some knowledge of her own. He was an easy man to be around. So far, it seemed as though every one of them would be easy to be with—easy to like. She tried to steel herself against caring but with every step they took, she became a little closer to the ragtag band.

  Little pieces of so many of the Unequal lay scattered around the garden. A chair built by a kid named Gordon. Paintings done by Francine. After they reached a flowering bush planted by Hubert’s hand, tears flowed down both their faces.

  “She was a good woman,” he said.

  “I didn’t know her well, but…” She sniffled back her sorrow. “She was… unexpectedly… maternal toward me.”

  “Margaret behaved the same way with everyone.”

  “Was she Shiraz’s mother?”

  Max shook his head sadly. “No. She wished she could’ve been, but Margaret’s inequality was compounded by her barrenness. I think it’s the reason why she became a mother to everyone around her. Compensating for her loss.”

  Rue could understand. She’d spent years compensating for the loss of her uncle by throwing herself into her studies. Succeeding where Howard had failed would pay homage to his life. Or so she’d hoped.

  Shaking away the memories, she tried again to harden her heart against the feelings Max and his blasted garden were engendering. She wouldn’t love these people only to watch them die. She couldn’t afford to lose another part of herself. And she would never survive another betrayal.

  “Justin did what he had to do,” Max said as if he could sense where her thoughts were leading her. She shot him a stunned look. “You wear your emotions on your face, Rue. It’s not hard to tell where all your anger is directed. First, my nephew presented himself as someone who could help you and then he went and betrayed you. And once you finally feel as though you learned enough about him to hate him, he betrays you again by being one of the good guys.”

  “Is he one of the good guys?” Her voice was quiet and unsure. “He wants this war too much.”

  “Justin never wanted a war, but he’s not going to back down from one. Sometimes, men have to do violence to one another in order to live in peace. Some men can’t be taught any other way because they don’t understand anything but violence themselves.” He held out his hand to her and she placed her own in it. A serenity she hadn’t felt since Howard disappeared crept over her. “We didn’t start this,” he said. “We don’t want it. But we have to finish it.”

  She wanted to pull away from the entreaty he was about to give. Her mind was made up. She didn’t want a few choice words from Max to unmake it.

  “We can finish it without your help, Rue.” Her eyes flew to his, and a deep sincerity lay behind the gold-green. “We can finish it, but with your help, more people may survive.”

  She opened her mouth to deny him, but he held up a hand.

  “Don’t. Anything you say will be based on emotions you aren’t quite in control of right at the moment. I want you to mull over what I’ve told you and give your answer after you’ve studied it from every angle.”

  “And I suppose no one will pressure me.” She pictured the angry woman and the spiteful man.

  “Not unless they want to answer to—”

  The explosion rocked one corner of the garden, sending plants and pots in every direction. The last thing Rue saw before she hit the concrete was Max’s bloodied face staring at the sky.

  FIFTEEN

  “Wake up, damn it!”

  Rough hands shook Rue. For a moment, she was back in the basement of the hospital. DOE agents surrounded her, but it was Margaret Hubert’s hands grasping her shoulders. She began to reach for the woman and pain seared through her shoulder.

  Her eyelids jerked open. Hubert wasn’t above her. Instead, a raspberry birthmark and angry blue eyes filled her vision.

  “Shiraz?”

  “Where’s Max?” Unmindful of Rue’s pain, she jerked hard. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you? You have to help me find him. You have to help him.”

  Rue gasped and swallowed the ache. Whatever was wrong with her wasn’t fatal. Something else, though, caused Shiraz’s terror. If only Rue could remember how she ended up on the ground.

  Pushing herself to her feet, she swayed against the sudden nausea as she surveyed in her surroundings. The rooftop garden… Broken… So much chaos… Smoke dispersing on the wind… Shiraz tugging her toward…

  “Max,” she breathed. Before she could inhale another breath, she was picking her way through rubble and overturned planters. The memories weren’t complete yet, but she had been alone with him in the garden. As bruised as she felt, she couldn’t bear to imagine how badly the older man was hurt.

  “Where is he?”

  “He was with you. You should know. Why don’t you know?”

  She shook her head, both as an answer and to remove the cobwebs clogging her mind. They had been standing together, talking about something… He was trying to convince her to help them… And then Shiraz was shaking her.

  “We were near some kind of fruiting shrub,” Rue said aloud. But there was no such plant nearby. “Margaret’s planting, if I remember right.”

  “Nothing is where it was, stupid. Come on.” Shiraz grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward one corner of the roof. “This way.”

  With everything so scattered, the old man might not be anywhere near the spot they’d been when the explosion occurred, but starting there was better than anywhere else. They hadn’t gone two meters when Shiraz dropped her grip. Rue couldn’t see around the girl. If she had to admit it, she didn’t want to. She was afraid to see what the explosion she’d experienced had done to an old man.

  And then the girl dropped to her knees, giving Rue a full view. A figure twisted at an odd angle lay amidst the carnage, his face unrecognizable under all the blood.

  Rue’s time in Emergency took over. She gently nudged Shiraz aside. Then she began barking orders as if she was anywhere they could take care of this patient. Not Max, she told herself. As long as it’s not Max I can handle this.

  “I need clean bandages.” The girl blinked once and turned her stare toward Rue. “Raz! Snap out of it. Get Crispin.”

  Those words sunk past the horror in Shiraz’s eyes. And then the girl was gone.

  Pulling her shirt off was the simplest way to acquire bandages. Half naked in the smoldering garden, Rue held her green sweater to the rivulet of dark red flowing from Max’s neck with one hand. With the other, she tried to tear the thin t-shirt off herself. She needed more cloth than she had and, as fast as the life was leaking out, she needed it now.

  “Rue?” he whispered through ravaged lips. Blood sprayed in a mist across her cheek.

  “I’m here, Max. Hold on. The others are coming. You’ll be fine. Hang on.”

  He tried to shake his head but couldn’t. Either Rue’s grip was too firm or he didn’t have the strength left to move. “This is over for me. It’s up to you…”

  She sucked a breath through her teeth and struggled to tear a shirt she knew wouldn’t rip. An exercise in futility, her father would’ve called it. His words made her try harder but the more she struggled, the less she could keep pressure on Max’s neck. If she couldn’t get a handle on herself, she could make the wound worse. He would bleed out before anyone would arrive with the supplies she needed to save him.

  She remembered the boy at the hospital who died while she’d watched. Citizen Janitor Logan wasn’t allowed to do anything then. She wasn’t Citizen anything anymore, but she couldn’t do a damn thing. Pressing the sweater tighter, she stopped a
ll her other movements.

  As her actions slowed, her mind raced. Where are they? What’s taking so damn long? Don’t die on me, Max. You haven’t convinced me yet. It’s your job to convince me. You wanted to let me come to the decision on my own. If you die, I won’t have the choice. And I so desperately need a choice right now. Please don’t die.

  “Where the hell are they?”

  The words came out of her mouth in a long drawn out wail. As they echoed between the buildings, she realized she was past thinking. And Max was past pain. One stupid sweater couldn’t stem the tide of the human heartbeat. While she was raging in her head against the inevitable, the wool couldn’t take another drop.

  Looking down, she noticed she was kneeling in what was left of her almost friend.

  “I need more time, Max,” she whispered. “This wasn’t supposed to be my fight.”

  Letting the sweater fall to the rooftop, she scooted around and placed Max’s head in her lap. Despite all the blood, his hair was remained as white as the wings of a dove. Despite the cloud creeping over his eyes, they were still the same gold-green. With one shaking hand, she eased the lids down, blocking out the color. Green meant life. Between the garden, wrecked and smoldering around her, and Max’s lifeless eyes, she’d never view the color the same way again. Maybe the color would forever be married in her mind with death.

  Forever passed before she heard the first footsteps. They trampled the fragile plants, vaulting crumbled concrete and mortar to reach the tragic scene.

  Someone gasped as he drew to a halt before her. “We came as fast as we could.”

  “Too late.” Whether she would ever speak above a whisper again remained to be seen. In that instant, noise seemed irreverent.

  Someone knelt next to her and checked Max’s pulse. She didn’t stop them. They could search all day and not find the smallest sign of life.

  “Rue?” The man was close enough for her to feel his breath against her ear. “You’re hurt.”

  She allowed herself to see the interloper. Shiraz had left to find Crispin, but Justin’s face swam in her vision. “I’m so sorry,” she told him.