Captives (28 page)

“Water?”

She took the leather book and slid it into her pocket. “Sure thing. Be right back with your water.”

Levi examined those around him. Red or black clothes dominated the wardrobes here as well, and many had tattoos and odd-colored eyes, skin, or hair. Perhaps it was the culture here to paint yourself in as many ways as possible. Levi certainly felt plain with gray overalls, brown hair, and skin-colored skin.

Londie returned with a glass of water. She also set down a plate of lettuce, tomatoes, carrot shavings, and purple cabbage drenched in white sauce. “There you go. Your steak will be out in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” Levi picked up the fork off the red cloth napkin and ate a bite of the salad. It was almost icy on his teeth. The milky sauce was cold too—and delicious. Salt and pepper and herbs flavored it, greatly improving the taste of lettuce. By the time Londie returned with his steak, Levi was wiping the extra sauce off his plate with his finger.

“Careful,” Londie said as she set a platter in front of him. “The plate is hot.”

One look at the steak and the word
beautiful
came to mind. Dark grill lines had been seared across the meat, and three strips of crisp bacon had been cooked around it.

“Would you like a side of ranch for your steak?” Londie asked him.

“Yes,” he said, elated to have the chance at more of the sauce.

“I’ll get that for you. Anything else?”

Levi shook his head, waiting for her to leave. When she did, he picked up his knife and cut a bite off one end of the steak. He put it into his mouth. Never before had meat melted in his mouth like butter.

Londie brought him a tiny dish of the sauce. “You need anything else?”

“This is delicious,” Levi said. “What does it take to cook steak like this? Refrigeration?”

Londie laughed in a short, high trill. “I’m glad you like it. But if I told you the secret, we wouldn’t have a very successful restaurant, now, would we?”

Levi scarfed down his steak then used his spoon to finish eating the bowl of ranch dressing. A woman at the table next to his stared. He wondered what he was doing to earn such a look from a woman with six gold rings pierced around her bottom lip.

“I need to get some real clothes. I can’t keep wearing this uniform everywhere,” a young man’s voice said from behind him.

Something about the voice was familiar. Levi looked to the entrance. There, standing just inside the doorway with two men, was Omar. All three were dressed in enforcer uniforms.

Levi’s mouth went dry. He stood and strode to the entrance. “Omar.”

When Omar’s eyes met Levi’s, his neck flushed pink. “Brother! I was hoping you’d decide to come inside the walls.” His eyes shifted to the floor, and he rubbed the scar between his eyes, revealing a black tattoo that crisscrossed from his wrist around his arm until it disappeared into the sleeve of his uniform. He had the number nine on his cheek. No Xs. Not surprising; Omar had always been a follower. The name on his uniform said
Strong.
Levi couldn’t suppress a smirk.

Omar’s enforcer friends studied him, their eyes questioning.

“It’s okay,” Omar said. “Why don’t you get us a table?”

The enforcers glared at Levi and walked to Londie’s counter.

“So, I guess you know that Beshup never showed at the cabin,” Levi said.

Omar rubbed his scar and stepped toward the enforcers. “I don’t have a really long lunch break, Levi, so I should get going.”

“You’re an enforcer, huh? What’s ‘strong’ mean?”

“My last name.”

“
Omar Strong
? So it’s a play on words, huh? An oxymoron?”

Omar scowled. “You’re the moron.”

The enforcers came back to stand beside Omar.

“Marcellina’s a little out of a cleaner’s credit range, isn’t it?” the enforcer with the sissy mustache and the name
Skott
on his uniform asked. “How much they give you to start?”

“Four hundred credits,” Levi said.

Skott laughed. “Better stop eating at steakhouses, shell.”

“He just means that those credits have to last you until you get paid again,” Omar said.

“What about you?” Levi asked. “You’re eating here.”

The other enforcer snorted. His name badge read
Charlz.
“Enforcer
captains
make a great deal more credits than street cleaners.”

“Hey, Skottie.” Londie walked toward an empty booth. “Got your table ready.”

“Okay, thanks,” Skott said, trailing after Londie. “You free tonight, femme?”

Omar waited until the enforcers were across the room. “Look, Levi. It’s not a good idea for us to spend time together. People will think we’re up to something. I’ll see you later.” Omar started to follow his friends.

But Levi grabbed Omar’s collar and pulled him close. Despite the intimidating uniform, Omar was still scrawny. “Why’d you do it?” Levi whispered.

Omar tried to pull away. “Get your hands off me, Levi. You can’t touch an enforcer and get away with it. It’s my job to maintain order.”

Levi held tightly. As much as he wanted to beat his brother into mud, Omar was right. Levi would likely end up back in the prison with a second X on his face. “Our elders are dead because of you. Our father’s dead because of—”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way!” Omar blinked back tears.

Refrain from anger, and turn from wrath.
Levi pushed Omar back
and released him. Omar stumbled against a table where a man and woman were eating, knocking over a pitcher of water. “I didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did, brother,” Omar said. “I’m sorry.

Truly I am. But … life is so much better here. You’ll see.”

“You’re a fool, Omar. A pathetic, sissy—”

“Don’t call me that!” Omar drew a gun from his belt and pointed it at Levi. “I’m sorry so many died, but I fit in here. And we all know that was never going to happen in Glenrock.”

Destroying an entire village to fit in? “Just make sure that the thing you’re living for is worth dying for, Omar. Enough people have lost their lives for you to
fit in.
But everything has a cost, and you had better be ready to pay up.”

“You know what I’m ready for, ‘brother’?” Omar said with a new edge to his voice. “I’m ready to hammer you for the first time in my life.” He waved his arm at his lapdogs. “Take him out back.”

As the enforcers hauled Levi from the steakhouse, Skott told Londie, “Hold our table, femme. We’ll only be a minute.”

W
e need to up the dosage on her fertility stims,” Ciddah said. “Change it to 150 milligrams.”

Mason made a note on the CompuChart. “But isn’t that a lot of hormones? Won’t that affect her body in other ways?”

“I’m the senior medic here, Mason. Let me worry about that.”

“But—”

Rimola leaned around the doorframe. “Enforcers just dropped off a patient in exam two.” She’d been Roller Painting her skin dark pink ever since Luella Flynn started wearing red and black. Her spiky black hair hadn’t changed. “He’s been arrested for assaulting an officer.”

Ciddah looked away from the CompuChart. Mason watched her profile as a strand of her wispy blonde hair fell from her hair clip. “What’d they do to him?” Ciddah asked.

“Don’t know,” Rimola said. “His face is pretty bloody. They said to keep it quiet.”

“Wonderful.” Ciddah patted Mason’s back, her hand lingering there longer than necessary. “Why don’t you assist me, Mason?”

“Sure.” Mason followed her out of the office. So far, he’d done little but enter data into CompuCharts, weigh patients, and take blood pressure
measurements, all of which constituted a multi-stepped process Ciddah called
taking the vitals.
Ciddah allowed him to do some
saliva tests
, but no
blood draws
until she had time to teach him. All of it was fascinating.

But Mason never met a more bewildering woman. Or more beautiful. Her wisdom and care with patients impressed him greatly. Yet with him, her words were all business, her eyes communicated a longing to be elsewhere, yet her hands touched him more than was necessary. So many contradictions.

None of it mattered, of course. Mason needed to focus on his goal of getting his people back to Glenrock, not how long Ciddah’s eyelashes were, how tightly she wore her scrubs, or how her hair swayed against her waist as she moved down the hallway.

Having seen her medical history, Mason knew she was Levi’s age and that she’d had four miscarriages.
Four.
After having learned about embryonic transfer from Ciddah on his first day, he knew that four miscarriages didn’t necessarily mean she’d been intimate with a man yet, but Mason wondered. He also wondered about the psychological impact of such losses.

He followed Ciddah inside exam room two. A man in a gray uniform had been secured to an exam table. His face was purpled and bloody, the bridge of his nose cut open.

Levi.

“Looks like the enforcers paid him back double,” Ciddah said. “Dumb shell. Why don’t you get him cleaned up, then I’ll check him over?” Ciddah left Mason alone to deal with the patient.

Mason looked his brother over, wondering what had happened. He must have snuck into the city compound, trying to free them, and, like Jordan, discovered that fists wouldn’t work against these people. They were too strong to defeat that way. And the numbers on his face and hand already had two Xs behind them. From what he’d learned through seeing reports on the ColorCast about some guy named Lonn, that wasn’t good.

Mason put on a pair of rubber gloves and located the bottle of
sterile water. He poured the water over Levi’s face and wiped it with fresh gauze. Levi jerked his head to the side, which startled Mason. He’d thought his brother was unconscious.

“My name is Mason Elias,” Mason said in a voice louder than necessary.

Levi’s eyes, somewhat hidden behind his swollen face, shifted until they met his brother’s. “Mason.” His voice croaked, and he panted in a few short breaths before speaking again. “It was Omar. He did this.”

“Omar? He beat you up?”

“No. Well, yes. But … it’s his fault we’re here. All of us.”

“What?” How could any of this be Omar’s fault?

“The little maggot sold out our village …” Deep breath. “For a job with the enforcers. To
fit in here
, he told me.”

Mason groaned, remembering Levi and Jemma’s engagement party, when Father had mocked Omar. “I knew he was unhappy. But … you’re sure?”

Levi coughed and worked to clear his throat. “He all but confessed … wearing his enforcer … uniform … with his enforcer buddies … smiling before he stomped on … my face.”

Mason squeezed the bottle in his hand, and sterile water overflowed, slapping onto the floor.
Keep it together.
“Hold still. I’ve got to clean you up before the medic comes back.” Mason grabbed some fresh gauze and some paper towels, tossed the paper towels onto the floor and stepped on them, then mopped up his mess on the exam table.

Levi’s eyes found Mason’s again. “Aren’t you the medic?”

“Uh, no. Just a lowly assistant.” Mason wiped under Levi’s nose.

“Was I really that bad to him?” Levi paused to gasp in a breath. “Mother and Jemma both said I needed to be nicer, but they’re girls, and I figured … what do they know about men, you know? About brothers.” Another large breath. “Did he ever say anything to you?”

“He said he wanted to be included. With you and Father. He wanted to go along.”

“Even if he hated us … Even if that hatred was justified … why
betray the entire village?” A tear ran down the side of Levi’s face, pooling in his ear. “I found eighteen dead, Mase … Papa Eli died in front of me. I buried him myself.”

Mason inhaled slowly, fighting back his emotions. He’d failed to save Papa Eli.

Stop.
He needed to stay focused. This wasn’t his fault.

Levi seemed to be pleading with Mason through his eyes. “If I would’ve been nicer … Do you think Omar would’ve …? Is it my fault that …?”

Mason wanted to smile. Stage two of the grieving process: they were both blaming themselves. “This is not our fault, Levi. The Safe Lands is the enemy. Not Omar. He’s just their pawn. General Otley killed Father and Papa Eli, and Lawten Renzor sent Otley and the enforcers. And they’ll likely kill us if we aren’t more careful.”

“Mase, I can’t breathe too good.”

Mason stopped swabbing and gave Levi a chance to breathe. “Your nose might be broken.”

Levi’s shoulders shook. Tears pooled in the hollow between his eyes and the ridge of his nose, mixing with the blood.

“Try to stay calm.” Mason tossed the bloody gauze then started on the other side of Levi’s nose.

“Have you seen Mother?” Levi asked.

“I haven’t seen anyone but you since they took Jordan away.”

“They brought him down to the RC.” Levi paused to gasp in a breath of air. “That’s where I was … They showed us movies of Jemma and Naomi … We had no choice but to —”

“How’s it coming?” Ciddah asked, appearing at Mason’s elbow.

Mason jumped, wondering how much she’d overheard. “Almost done.”

“It’s fine.” She stepped in front of him so that her body brushed against his, filling his senses with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon. “I can work with that.”

Mason stepped out of her way and set the bottle of sterile water on the counter.

“Here.” She handed him the CompuChart. “See if you can fill in more of that.”

Mason looked over the chart. Levi had chosen the last name Justin. Not surprising—Levi and their father had been close.

“My name is Ciddah.” She smiled down on Levi, gloved hands held out to the side, no unnecessary touching. “I’m going to take a look at your nose, okay?”

“I can’t breathe through my nose,” Levi said.

“That could be due to swelling, or maybe it’s broken.” Ciddah slid one of her gloved hands behind Levi’s neck and tilted his head back to examine him. Mason watched, intrigued by everything Ciddah did, especially her gentleness with patients. As much as Mason didn’t want to be in the Safe Lands, he longed for Ciddah’s medical knowledge. She was a level nine medic. And from what she’d told him, the highest medic ranking was a twenty.