Finally he let my hand slide from his palms and he stood.
“Get some sleep, Pepper.”
“You too,” I whispered.
He left me and I wrapped my arms around my knees again, slightly rocking. Moments later I saw the shadow of Mom looking in my door.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
She closed the door and left me with my jumbled thoughts and the smell of Rylen.
Leave it to him to steal another night of sleep from me. Well, to be fair, the whole night wasn’t lost, only the first half of it. Then I woke with the sun, and I vowed to have a new outlook.
I went to work with a belly full of oatmeal swirled with strawberry jam and pressed coffee, plus a sponge bath, so my body was mostly happy. My head was still holding a grudge about the half-night of sleep.
As I pulled into the clinic parking lot and rounded the line of tall bushes, everything I’d eaten solidified into a hard lump. There were five Disaster Relief Police standing at the entrance in all black with guns, but no masks this time. I searched their faces, but creepy man was not with them. A civilian man cradling his injured arm was walking away from them. I ran up to him when I saw he was bleeding.
“Sir,” I said. “What happened? We need to get you inside the clinic.”
The man was probably my dad’s age, but really thin and in bad need of a shave. His eyes rounded and darted from me to the DRPs. One of the men stepped forward and said, “Under new law, persons injured by DRP fire cannot be helped.”
“What?” I asked. I looked at the man. He shook his head, appearing frightened. I looked at the DRPs. “You shot him?”
“I’m fine,” the man insisted in a tremoring voice.
“No, you’re not.” The towel he held around his bicep was soaked with blood. “I’m a medic, and I’m sworn to help people, no matter what. Let me look.”
The DRP who’d spoken before moved closer and said, “He’s been told to leave clinic property. He was out of his house during curfew hours and faced punishment. He’s not to be treated.”
“I’m going.” The man shuffled quickly away from me, leaving me there staring at the DRP. He looked like a farmer converted to a police with his tanned skin and shorn hair.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I asked, throwing out my arms. “A law that I can’t treat people?”
The man pointed his gun at me and I raised my hands, jumping back and shutting up as fear sliced through me. “Are you questioning the laws of Senator Navis and the DRI?” Was this asshole going to shoot me for speaking? What the hell was going on in this world?
“Whoa, whoa.” Another DRP walked up beside him. “I know her. She’s good people.” I looked at the guy’s face and recognized him as a freckled, tall boy who was in the year below me in school, Jeff Adams.
“Good people don’t question the law,” the other man spat.
Jeff nodded. “I think she was taken by surprise. Sounds like this is the first time she’s heard the law. Miss Tate, you should head on in and talk to the doctor. He’ll inform you of the new decrees.”
I slowly lowered my hands and walked past the men, keeping my eyes on the mouthy one. I wanted to flip him the bird, but he’d scared me too badly. When I got to the doorway, Jeff walked me in and whispered, “Just keep a low profile, okay? Most of these guys aren’t from around here, so they don’t know us, and they don’t care. We have to treat anyone who isn’t obedient as an outlier. If they think we’re slacking, they let us go like that—” He snapped his fingers. “And there goes our food.”
“They pay you in food?” I whispered.
He nodded and glanced back through the doorway. “Be careful.”
I gave a curt nod and managed to say, “Thank you.”
Inside, I couldn’t even relax because the stuffy DRI woman who gave vaccinations was sitting there at the main desk. She smiled big, oblivious that I’d nearly been killed for questioning a horrible new law.
“We’ve had to turn away many today who were punished,” she said. “But word will spread because of this, and people will realize we are very serious and we mean what we say. People will be more cautious.”
“Yeah, maybe, but . . .” I scanned her for a weapon before I continued. “It feels wrong to me. I’m trained to heal people, even people at crime scenes who are clearly not innocent.”
“I understand.” Fake, weird smile. “That was the past. All of our beliefs are being changed and challenged. But it is temporary. In due time all will be right, as it should.”
My lips clamped shut. I lowered my head and walked to the doctor’s office. He was listening to the radio and his eyes were glazed as he stared at the wall. I closed the door behind me.
“Morning, Dr. Persus.”
His eyes flitted to me and cleared before he reached out a hand to silence the radio.
“They’re saying most of Africa is wiped out. Did you hear?”
An uncomfortable zing itched its way over my skin. I sank into the chair across from him and whispered, “No. I’ve been trying not to listen.”
“All but South Africa, which has had half of its population spared. The rest of the continent, Amber . . .” His chin trembled. “Have you ever been—no, never mind, you’re young. You haven’t had chance yet, but I have. I took three trips to different parts of Africa for Doctors Without Borders.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this. Were they bombed?”
He shook his head and his voice was strained. “All water sources were contaminated. Every one. Those who survived the illnesses starved.”
I closed my eyes, hoping my stomach would settle. I did not want to lose my breakfast. “Dr. Persus. What are the new laws? One of the DRP acted like he was going to shoot me for trying to treat a man who’d been injured by one of them.”
The doctor’s entire face crumbled and he seemed to become frailer before my very eyes.
“Oh, Amber. I’m so sorry. Those devils. I want the Outliers found, I really do, but this.” He shook his head. “This is a sad day. Medical personnel will be killed if we treat anyone who was injured as a form of punishment. They want their suffrage to be a warning to others. I understand their determination—their need for complete cooperation—but I wish there was another way.”
“I mean, if obedience is how they’ll determine the Outliers, what will stop the Outliers from pretending to be outstanding citizens? They’re probably hiding their guns somewhere and doing their evil business during the day, in secret. It’s the innocent people who are being treated like Outliers who are getting shafted here!”
The door swung open without a knock and I gasped as I spun to see the pretty, smiling face of the DRI woman.
“I heard a raised voice. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, everything is just fine,” Dr. Persus said with his own fake smile. “Amber was worked up when I told her what the Outliers did in Africa.”
“Mm.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “Well, we’ll keep this door open in case you need anything. I’m just a shout away.” She pressed the door open, flush against the wall, and gave us a meaningful look.
“Wait.” I stood up. This was going too far. “Sometimes the doctor and I need to discuss patient business in private. We will need to close the door at some point.”
“There’s no need for patient privacy in these times. We’re all in this together, Miss Tate. Aren’t we?”
What. The. Hell. She was giving me that damn perma-smile. I, on the other hand, was not smiling.
Dr. Persus stood and gave a chuckle. “Of course we are. We’ll leave it open.”
She walked away and I leveled Dr. Persus with a disbelieving look. He held his palms up as if to calm me. He mouthed silently, choose your battles. And out loud he said, “We have patients to see. Let’s get started.”
I was not okay. I had the heebie-jeebies all day. My world had tilted sideways and I couldn’t walk straight. Everything was off-kilter.
I came home to the beauti
ful sight of my parents and grandparents sitting in the living room with Remy. My bag slipped from my fingers as I ran to her.
“Remy!”
She stood and we collided in a hug. Her eyes were red.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I looked around and saw Mom and Abuela’s sad faces.
“My dad,” Remy said. “He’s just being . . . well, you know how he gets about church stuff. Nothing else matters.”
Ah. We sat together on the couch. “What’s going on?”
“He wants me to be there all the time, helping, trying to give people hope, but it’s really hard when I’m not exactly feeling the hope myself, you know?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. I hated hearing that, though, about her not having hope.
“It’s really awful at the church, Amber. We’ve nearly drained our pool bringing gallons of water to boil and give away, but people are hungry, and they’re begging us for food we don’t have.” A wave of guilt slammed me. “And they’re crying about people they’ve lost, and they want to know why this is happening to them. And I’m like, I’d really like to know that too. Why?”
I pressed my lips together. I’d been hearing similar questions at the clinic, and I saw some horrible cases, but I’d hardened myself to peoples’ suffering. Maybe that was wrong of me, but it’s how I coped. I murmured kind things to them as I worked, but I kept my heart sealed in a tight chamber.
Remy sniffed. “I told my dad I couldn’t do it anymore. I just . . . I had to get away. Can I stay here tonight?”
“Of course,” I said.
Abuela pushed to her feet and said, “I make food.”
We were all quiet. Dad and Grandpa hadn’t said a word. In the kitchen I could hear the whir of Abuela opening a can of something and then lighting the gas burner. I almost asked, “Did you hear about Africa?” but that probably wasn’t what Remy needed to hear right now.
Remy looked toward the hall to the kitchen. “Is she cooking?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
Remy stood and I followed her into the kitchen. She stared at the cans of black beans being poured into a pan, and the second pan which was warming water to make rice.
“Oh, my gosh,” Remy whispered. “That looks so good.”
I felt the need to explain. I kept my voice low. “Grandpa Tate sort of collected supplies and food . . . just in case anything like this ever happened. We’re really lucky.”
“That is awesome!” she said. “I ate the last of our fruit snacks yesterday and I’ve been freaking out a little.” She looked at me sheepishly. Remy was hungry. I took her hand and pulled her to the pantry. I lifted her hand and poured some almonds into her palm. Her eyes seriously watered from gratitude, which made another wave of guilt hit me. She threw the handful into her mouth and laughed as she chewed. I would make sure Remy went to bed with a full stomach.
Mom came to the pantry doorway with a medium box. “I don’t care what Papá Tate says. I’m going to fill a box and bring it to your church today.” Remy threw her hands around Mom’s neck and they hugged tightly.
“Thank you,” Remy said. “There’s so many little kids there. That’s the part that I can’t take. They’re crying and they have no energy. The parents are, like, desperate. This will mean so much.”
We helped Mom pack the box, and saw her off. I knew she’d let Remy’s dad know she was with us, and she was okay.
That night our family and Remy sat around the table eating, trying to make small talk. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell them about what had happened to me this morning with the DRP pointing his gun at me and the DRI making us keep the doors open, but nobody else was talking about unpleasant things so I decided it could wait. We could have one night of no upsetting subjects.
As we were finishing up, a rattle came from the front door, as if someone were trying the knob. We all stilled. And then came the sound of a key in the lock. Dad’s eyes narrowed and he leapt up from his chair with all of us behind him. We got to the living room as the door swung wide and a tall, handsome young man with wavy dark hair stood in the doorway dressed in worn out fatigues.
“Glad to see you haven’t changed the locks.”
I screamed. “Tater!”
I sprinted to his arms and he laughed as I knocked him against the door. He lifted me off my feet and gave me the longest, tightest hug we’d ever shared. Emotions swelled inside of me, tumbling over one another in a rush. I had never been so happy to see anyone. Suddenly my tilted world felt slightly righted.
“My turn!” Mom was clapping and then elbowing me away so she could get to him, squealing. Dad came over too, and the three of them hugged. I watched, feeling such massive joy that my smile was hurting my cheeks.
I looked over at my smiling grandpa, and Abuela who stood with her hands clasped at her chest and tears streaming down her cheeks. Then I looked at Remy, who was staring at Tater as if she’d never seen him before. Her gaze traveled up and down. I knew that look. She met my eyes and her brows bounced.
“Um,” I whispered. “You hate him, remember?”
“I hated the teenage him,” she whispered back.
I rolled my eyes, but still couldn’t stop smiling.
Tater and Grandpa hugged, giving each other hard slaps on the back, and then he got to Abuela, who was about half his size. He lifted her up and spun her around as she slapped his arms to put her down. He set her down and she grasped his face, pulling him down so she could kiss both his cheeks.
Tater then turned to Remy. “Damn, Remy.”
“Damn yourself, Jacob.”
Oh, my damn, they were totally flirting. Gross.
“What are you doing here?” Dad asked.
Tater spun to face him, throwing up his arms. “They closed the base. Sent us all away.”
“Fort Benning, too?” Dad’s hands flew up, his expression angry.
“I know. Nobody knows what the fuc—oh, sorry Abuela.”
“I no care.” She waved a hand.
“Nobody knows what’s going on. I had to hitchhike the whole way here from Georgia.”
“What?” Mom looked horrified.
“I know, right?” Tater was smiling broadly. “People kept running out of gas and shi—stuff. It’s the same in all the towns. Businesses closed. Drips got roadblocks so they can check people off.”
“Drips?” I asked.
“Yeah, you know, the DRI peeps.”
I let out a laugh. “I call the DRPs Derps. Drips and Derps!”
Tater held up a hand and I jumped to slap it, half expecting him to pull it out of my reach at the last second like old times. But he was mature enough to actually allow me to high five him. How far we’d come.
“What’s wrong with the DRI and DRP?” Remy asked. “They’re good. They’re trying to help, right?”
“Well, yeah . . .” I looked around the room. “But they’re kind of weird. And really hardcore.” I decided to go ahead and tell them about what had happened that morning. I thought Dad was going to blow a gasket about the gun-pointing thing, his face got so red. Mom put a hand on his forearm.
“Amber, you have to be careful!” Remy scolded. “They warned us! And who knows what that guy did to get shot.”
I was surprised to hear a viewpoint so different from what my own gut said.
“Well, yes, but . . .” But what? I shook my head. “I don’t like it that they’re treating everyone like criminals. It just feels wrong.”
“It’s just temporary,” Remy said.
“It’s just bullshit is what it is,” Tater blurted. “Oh, sorry Abuela.”
“I tell you, I no care.” She swatted his arm.
“Well, I do care.” Mom swatted his other arm.
“Ah, crazy ladies!” Tater scrambled away, stopping right next to Remy. He put an arm around her. I flung it off. Remy gave him a wicked smile.
Stomps came from the front steps and we all turned to see the door fling open. Rylen’s eyes scanned the room and widened when they
came to Tater. At the same time, both guys dove across the room and fell to the ground, wrestling. They were laughing and shouting inappropriate things like, “. . . pussy ass mutha . . .” and Mom was shaking her head, eyes to the ceiling.
Remy elbowed me and nodded to the door. Livia stood there looking unsure.
“Come in,” I told her. I went over and closed the door and locked it. Then I gave her a small smile. She stared at the boys, almost worried.
“This is how they greet each other,” I told her in Spanish. She gave a stifled laugh.
Finally they got to their feet and finished with a series of punches and head swipes before stopping. Tater’s eyes went straight to Livia.
“Is this the Missus?” He headed straight for her and took her hand, speaking to her in Spanish. “You are a beautiful girl. What are you doing with my ugly friend?”
Livia’s eyes shot to Rylen over Tater’s shoulder.
Rylen told her, “Whatever he says, Liv, ignore it.”
I punched Tater’s shoulder. “Leave her alone.” He smiled at her and let go, turning back to Rylen.
“Was your base closed too, Dude?”
Rylen crossed his arms and nodded. “Benning closed? That’s a surprise.”
Dad pinched his nose and closed his eyes. “This is insane. Why are bases closing? I need to talk to people, but I’m trying to ration our gas.”
“We’ve been out of gas for days,” Remy said. “We’ve been riding our bikes for miles.”
“Here’s the thing about gas,” Tater said. “Most of the stations have generators, but they closed shop after they sold out of all their food, ‘cause they can’t take credit and not a lot of people have cash. They’re afraid of being held up or killed for gas if they stay open. If you can find a gas station owner and you have something valuable enough to trade them, they might be willing to turn on a pump so you can fill up.”
Grandpa stepped forward. “I’m willing to trade goods for gas. Just let me do the talking.”
Dad nodded. Grandpa was a hustler. “All right. We’ll give it a try tomorrow.”
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