Unequal

by B. E. Sanderson

  Below them, a hush lay over the house. If Winston had returned, he gave no indication he heard anything amiss above him. Maybe their luck would hold and he wouldn’t return any time soon.

  “Justin’s in the basement,” Rue said. “Unless you saw Winston drag him out to the car.”

  “Good ol’ Hank came out through the garage.” The girl shook her head. “I can’t believe Justin actually was here. If it was me, I would’ve hidden the prize somewhere else. I mean, why take the chance we’d come after him.”

  “Howard’s mind isn’t right.” She pictured the fluffy slippers he’d laid out for her. “Part of him believes it’s years ago.”

  “And part of him knows it’s today and there’s a war brewing.”

  “Let’s hope the DOE keeps him busy until we can get out of here.”

  Shiraz snorted. “What say we hope he didn’t take Justin with him? If he did, this whole damn exercise is pointless.”

  Rue had a third possibility, but she didn’t want to voice her concern. As long as it was a concept not put into words, it wasn’t true. Voicing it would’ve somehow made it more real. She had to admit, if in her mind alone, Justin could be dead.

  The third step down creaked, causing both women to cringe, but the house remained silent. Even the slight hope of hearing Justin groan disappeared into the suffocating stillness.

  “Screw this. No one’s here.” Shiraz’s voice shocked her almost as much as the creaking step. If she could, she’d tiptoe all the way. But the girl was right. Stealth was moot.

  “Follow me.”

  When they reached the kitchen, the basement door hung open and Rue’s heart dropped to keep company with her intestines. She prayed she was wrong. She hoped Winston had been in such a hurry, he hadn’t bothered to shut the door. If his mind was so far into some other place, he could’ve assumed the locks would keep his prisoners safe.

  But the more Rue examined the possibilities, the more she felt she was fooling herself.

  “What are we waiting for exactly?” Shiraz pushed at her shoulder. “Is he here or isn’t he?”

  “Down there.” Her voice was so soft and foreign she almost wondered who was speaking.

  The girl pushed past her and thudded down the steps. Rue’s heart hammered in her chest as she stood, willing her feet to move.

  You’ve seen corpses before. Too many corpses. Strangers, acquaintances… friends—

  “Justin!”

  Shiraz’s voice snapped her out of her immobility. Before fear could stop her again, Rue was running down the basement steps.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Moving from the bright kitchen to the dim basement left Rue blind. The sunlight streaming through the westward windows didn’t help. She navigated the last few steps slowly, feeling her way. By the time her eyes adjusted, she was standing on concrete. From her vantage point, the basement appeared vacant.

  Until her gaze fell on the scene near one of the support beams. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Justin,” she said on a breath of air. “Oh god no.”

  “Help him, Rue.”

  Rue wanted to turn away from the prone form and the trembling figure crouched over him. Despite the shadows, a dark stain could be seen spreading across the floor. The girl’s hands were wet with it.

  “Save him. Please.”

  After all the years she spent treating patients, she didn’t have to touch Justin to understand he was beyond her help. Too much blood pooled around them. Poor Shiraz was drenched. Rue stepped closer, hoping to get a better idea of his injuries. His face… Oh god, his face… Other than his shock of brown hair, the attractive man she fought and worked with was unrecognizable. It didn’t take a doctor of any kind to understand what trauma so horrific meant. One glimpse of the shattered cranial ridge, the bits of gray sticking to his hair and the girl’s shirt, was enough.

  “It’s too late.”

  Shiraz pulled the man closer, as if holding him tighter would bring him back to life. “No. Don’t say that. It’s never too late.”

  A groan from deeper into the basement drew Rue’s attention away from the grotesque scene. A glance back at Shiraz showed the younger woman’s eyes blazing with hatred.

  “Who else is down here?”

  “Does it matter? Forget about him and help Justin.”

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “Fix him!” Shiraz’s voice reminded Rue of toddlers with broken toys. Except no amount of stitches and glue would repair this.

  “Justin’s gone.” She spoke as gently as she could manage, but the words came out harsh and unfeeling nonetheless. The dead were past her help. Emotions were meant for the living.

  “Fix him,” the girl said again, her voice soft and thick with barely restrained emotion.

  “I would give anything to be able to bring him back, but…” How many times had she thought the same thing, spoken the same words to untold numbers of grieving relatives? “But I can’t.”

  Behind her, the groan sounded once more. A choked breath. A mumbled word. They were all Rue needed to identify the need and its source.

  “Uncle Howard?” She’d barely moved to investigate before Shiraz let out a strangled cough.

  “You can’t help him!” Her shriek echoed throughout the basement. “He did this. For godsakes, Super-Doctor, let the bastard die.” Shiraz’s spurt of anger dissolved in a whisper. Pulling Justin closer to her chest, she began rocking him as a five-year old would rock her dollies. “Help him, Rue. Please, don’t let him be dead.”

  Justin was beyond help, but Shiraz needed her. The girl seemed to be fraying into a million tiny threads. The next few minutes could mean the difference between simple grieving and a break from reality. Maybe if she’d spent more time reading the psychology texts, then she might have the answer.

  Torn between wanting to save her young friend from more pain and needing to treat her uncle’s actual injuries, Rue was frozen halfway between the stairs and the basement’s center.

  But Rue wasn’t trained to treat the illnesses of the mind. She’d spent years training herself to heal the body instead. Shiraz might not survive the shock. And the girl would definitely hate her. But she couldn’t do anything about it. Her skills might save the one other person in the basement, though. Whatever her uncle had done, she had made a commitment.

  And as long as Rue could convince herself her oath was the main reason she was helping Winston, she might make it through this trial.

  “Shiraz.” She put enough steel into her voice to make the young woman jump. “The man is injured and I’m going to save him. You don’t have to help me, but you need to be quiet and let me work.”

  “Save him and I’ll kill you.” The words were ground out from between Shiraz’s clenched teeth.

  “If I don’t try to save him, I’ll be worse than he ever was.” The girl opened her mouth for further protest. “I don’t have time for this. Stay there and stay out of my way.” She moved toward Winston. “Better yet, go upstairs and contact Bruno. He needs to know what’s happened, and I need him back here as quick as he can move that damn transport.”

  The single other sound Rue heard was a soft sobbing. She let the girl cry. Tears were better than anger. Time enough for rage later.

  She found Howard near the table where he’d once built skyscrapers and mansions. Kneeling on the cold, hard floor, Rue first searched for a pulse. The beats were erratic, but there was enough strength in them to ease her worry. She could save this man.

  Maybe if you had the right tools, she corrected herself. Hell, any tools would do right then.

  “Howard?” she said. “Can you hear me?”

  “Mmmhmm.” It wasn’t the most eloquent reply, but it was better than nothing.

  “What happened?”

  “I fell down and hurt my head.” Winston… Uncle Howard’s voice was weak, but the strains of it concerned her more than its strength. The head of the DOE was degenerating into a childlike state. The question was whether his current m
ental state was a result of his previous injuries or whether this was some new damage she’d have to fix.

  “Did someone make you fall down?”

  The blue eyes she once looked to for guidance grew confused. “I… I was alone… I think… But then Cris showed up. He wouldn’t hurt me, though. He’s my friend. He’s always been my friend.”

  “Cris? You mean Crispin?”

  The man’s head nodded as if it wasn’t quite attached to his neck. “Cris is my friend. He plays in the woods with me.”

  Rue ducked close up under the table until she was kneeling next to Winston’s head. She brushed a hand across his forehead, wishing she had a light source to gauge his pupils. Judging from the darkening bruise near his temple, whatever damage his brain already incurred had grown within the last hour.

  “Crispin was your friend when we lived here together?” she asked, not really wanting the answer. Observation was her one chance of evaluating this patient—she couldn’t allow herself to treat him any other way. Especially with his mental state deteriorating so rapidly in so short a time.

  Winston tried to nod but winced instead. After the wave of pain passed, he said, “We’re friends. Sissy lets him come over to play because she says his mom doesn’t want him. But we do. Don’t we, Rue?”

  His slender fingers wrapped around her hand where she was trying to take his pulse. In his childlike state, he squeezed harder than he probably intended, grinding the tiny bones of her wrist. She bore the pain. What else could she do? The patient wasn’t reacting as an adult anymore. In his mind, he was a kid trying to make sense of the nonsensical.

  “Of course, we want him. He was my friend, too.” Rue remembered the way Crispin rescued her from the DOE and their trip through the tunnels. He had been her friend then.

  “He doesn’t want to play with you.”

  The idea Crispin had been acquainted with her as a child sent a sick shudder through her. In the weeks since they met, he never gave the slightest indication. He acted as though they were strangers. He’d kept his past as hidden as his present. Maybe he was afraid once she saw his connection to her uncle she would divine the current relationship between the two. At any rate, it didn’t matter. He was as warped as her uncle had become.

  More so, since he had to be the one who inflicted the wounds on Winston. And was the probable cause of Justin’s death.

  “I don’t remember playing with Cris. Tell me about it.”

  “He didn’t want to play with you. I took you along to get you away from the mean man. Sissy asked me to keep you out of the house as long as I could. Every day.” His full mouth dropped into a pout. “I didn’t always want to play with you either.”

  “I understand.” Looking back, she could put herself in his place. What boy would want to pal around with a little girl? And yet, he did it. “Why did you take me with you anyway?”

  “Your daddy… Daddy?” Winston’s eyes darted from one side to the other. “Why can’t I remember his name, Rue? I remember you. I remember Sissy.” Those wild eyes squinted tightly shut. “I can see him if I try. Why can’t I remember?”

  She couldn’t count the number of times she wished she could forget her father. “It’s okay, Howard.” She petted his hair. “You don’t have to remember him. Tell me about something else.”

  “Make him tell you why he killed Justin.”

  Shiraz was so close to her shoulder Rue jumped. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught the glint of something metallic. Before she thought about it, she leaned down to shield her patient’s body. “Back off. I won’t let you hurt him.”

  Shiraz pushed a metal tube toward Rue until it was obvious it wasn’t a weapon. The girl held a flashlight. “Do you really think I’m the kind of person who could hurt a kid?” Rue narrowed her eyes. Winston whimpered beneath her. “Geez, look at him. He couldn’t hurt a bug.”

  Rue took the flashlight. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Find out what the hell happened.” The girl leaned closer as Rue switched on the light. “He obviously didn’t do it,” she stated with solid certainty. Her eyes hardened. “It had to be Crispin. Damn it.”

  Before Rue had a chance to absorb everything, Shiraz headed for the stairs. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to kill the bastard.”

  “And get killed in the process. You’ll never get close to him.”

  “What do you suggest we do, then, great medical wonder that you are?”

  Shrugging off the girl’s sarcasm, Rue considered the situation. It wasn’t as though she had a boatload of options at this point. If Winston wasn’t a child, they could use him as a hostage. Infiltrate the DOE headquarters. Find Crispin and stop him. As it was, though, any act of aggression would scare the hell out of poor Howard.

  Unless…

  “Want to play a game, Howard?” As much as she hated tricking someone who wasn’t right in his head, the choices left to Rue were severely limited. This had to end now. Too many good people were dying. Too many lives had been destroyed for too damn long.

  Crispin and Justin wanted to change society by force. The DOE wanted to change the world by putting a tight leash on it. None of them had a clue. Rue wasn’t sure there was a better way, but she sure as hell knew those men didn’t have the answers. Killing people wouldn’t save them. Keeping them ignorant wouldn’t save them either.

  With Justin dead and Winston incapacitated, the real obstacle remained—the man who represented the worst of all parties. If anything was going to move forward. If anything was going to change in any meaningful way, Crispin had to be stopped.

  The question was, how?

  Rue took stock of her assets. Shiraz, an uncertain ally. Winston, if she could get him to play pretend for long enough to get them inside the building. Bruno. If the younger woman could contact him before he stumbled into trouble, they might have a chance—albeit slim.

  She shook loose from her thoughts. “I understand you’re hurt and you’re scared, Howard, but do you? Do you want to play a game with me?”

  “A game?” Winston said. “I like games. Cris says I can hide better than anyone.” Rue looked toward the beaming face of her uncle in time to see a cloud cross over his blue eyes. “But he must’ve been wrong…”

  “What was he wrong about?”

  “I didn’t hide good enough.”

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Shiraz said from her perch on the old workbench. “We don’t need someone who can hide. We need someone who can lie. Barring lies, if he could fight, we could use him, too.”

  “Shut up.” Rue crouched down until her eyes were level with Winston’s. “What do you mean, Howard? You didn’t hide good enough what day?”

  “The day the men came. Sissy told me to run to the woods. She told me to hide until the men went away, but I must not have hid good because they found me.” His index finger ran down the ugly scar. “I hid in the best spot. It was the one Cris and I dug into the creek bank. No one should’ve found me.”

  Unless someone told them where to look, Rue thought.

  “Where was Cris?” she said.

  “The men took him, too, but he disappeared before me.” Winston’s lower lip quivered. “I didn’t mean to get caught. They… It hurt…” He shook his head so hard against his memories, Rue was afraid he’d injure himself. Reaching out with both hands, she grasped his head. His eyes grew saucer-big as he stared at her. “But I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell them anything about my little Rue. She’s safe.”

  “What the fuck is he talking about?”

  “I’m not sure.” Slowly, ideas were developing in her head, like bacteria in a Petri dish. Until they reached maturity, she couldn’t be sure exactly what they would grow into. But at this early stage, they were making her sick. “I’m fairly certain Citizen Equalizer Hank Winston isn’t actually the one in charge of the DOE.”

  “What the hell?” Shiraz jumped down from her perch. “You mean he’s been this way since he w
as first disappeared?”

  Rue shook her head. “No. This is something new, but he’s not the same man who hid in the creek.” It had been obvious from the start. She simply hadn’t been able to see through her disgust enough to question whether his behavior had changed due to some kind of trauma. “I can’t be sure without running tests, but I’d be willing to bet he hasn’t had the mental capacity to run the agency for years—if he ever did. Someone else has been running the show.”

  “Crispin.”

  “He didn’t strike me as the type, but stranger things have happened.”

  “Well, if it hasn’t been him, who the hell is running the DOE?”

  Only one person raised in this society could successfully lead anything.

  And his body grew colder with every second.

  THIRTY

  “Holy crap.” Bruno’s words didn’t begin to describe what Rue was feeling. Reliving every bit of it while telling him the tale didn’t make it any easier either. As she explained about Justin’s death, Shiraz broke into tears again and had to be helped to the couch. To quiet her own mind, she made the girl tea before she resumed. By the time she finished, Shiraz’s eyes were dry and the rage was back.

  Rue couldn’t help but think they needed her rage at the moment. It might get them through the night.

  “So I followed Crispin and not Winston back to the hospital?”

  She nodded as a question occurred to her. “He went to the hospital? We were sure he’d go back to the DOE and start implementing his plans.”

  “What exactly are his plans?” Shiraz’s tone was desert dry. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “If you imagine Howie is going to give you anything, you’re crazier than he is.” The girl stood and crossed from the living room into the kitchen. “Cris’ plans don’t matter. We need to go get him before he has a chance to take a piss.”

  “Enough, Raz,” Bruno said. Rue wasn’t sure whether it was the words or the steel in his voice, but the girl uncrossed her arms. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.