Dark World: The Surface Girl (13 page)

              Dad stuffed the last paper back into the folder and set it neatly in the drawer of his night-table. “Maybe when confinement is over, you'll want to consider shadowing me at the job for a day, just to make sure you're truly interested in the career.” Was Dad inviting me into the Order? I eagerly nodded.
Yes.
My hunger for knowledge was like a ravenous beast right now but the beast served something far more important than my dreams or my curiosity. All I cared about right now was finding my way to Reese again so I could help keep him safe.
              “I have one important question about the job, before I commit to a shadow.” Dad folded his arms under his chest and regarded me with patience. I was grateful.

              “What is it?”
              “Are you close with your co-workers? Do you all look out for each other and keep each other safe,
no matter what
?” I put special emphasis on those last three words. My eyes narrowed with intensity and I rested them on my fathers face, praying he would understand what I was asking. A soft sigh streamed out of his mouth and nose.
              “Yes, Ruby. We look after each other. We work together and consider ourselves personally responsible for everyone's safety.” I did not overlook the fact that he said
everyone
, not just his co-workers. That meant that he was accepting responsibility for Reese too, right? Reese was not in the Order but he was in danger because of something the Order started. It was their responsibility to save him.
              “Ruby, come help me set the table?” I shifted my eyes away from Dad. I hated being this helpless and I envied Mom right now. She was oblivious to the realities that we knew were crumbling down around us. She thought she was happy because she had me and Dad and she never allowed herself to desire anything more in life. Suddenly, lyrics from a very old song that existed B-I that Grandpa used to sing started interrupting my thoughts and taking over my mind.
             
“You can't always get what you want..but if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need.”

             
I had always wanted more. More choices, more knowledge, more freedom. When you’re a kid and you dream of experiencing the scent of fresh air or the feeling of loose dirt against the soles of your feet, you don’t think about all of the horrors it would take to achieve those dreams. I was in love with Reese. I could admit that to myself now and I knew it was true. It had been true long before I dared to face it. Now he was in some kind of trouble and I didn't even know how much, or if he was still alive or if I could save him. I made a promise to my dad last night that I now knew I couldn’t keep. He knew it too, or he wouldn’t have invited me into the Order,
if
that's what he actually did. I couldn't think of another explanation. I supposed he finally realized that at this point, the best way to protect me was to let me in. What about Mom, though? The best way to protect her was to keep her in the dark and away from her fears. Real love was about sacrifice. I understood that by the way my dad behaved. For me, he was sacrificing feeling secure about my safety because he loved me, and he knew that whether or not either one of us wanted this to be true, I was in love with Reese. For Mom, he was sacrificing an honest relationship with her because he knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the fears that knowing about the Order would push upon her.

              I would sacrifice for Reese. I walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard. I reached for three plates. I helped Mom set the table and then I helped her finish preparing our dinner. We lived in these same barracks all of our lives and every evening when we all sat down to dinner, I knew without a doubt that until I was forcibly married, I would eat dinner with both of my parents at this same table night after night after night. Tonight I no longer had that assurance. I took special note of my mom's soft voice and loving smiles. I took a moment to notice and appreciate the way Dad would put a loving hand on the small of Mom's back or on her knee. Even the smallest of touches communicated his love and devotion for her strongly and purely. If he had to give up his life to improve or save hers I understood now that he would do it without question.

              I made a silent promise to myself right here at our dinner table that I would do anything –
anything
– to save Reese. I would sacrifice everything I ever knew so that he could experience the freedom I have dreamed of my whole life, even if that meant I couldn’t experience it with him. From now on every choice I made would be for him.

Chapter 6

             
The Complex had limited resources. As a result, items that were not necessities were kept to a minimum. Grandpa Logan used to tell stories about how, B-I, places called
stores
sold endless toys, people had closets the size of our barracks with clothes made from all sorts of different materials, and sometimes, people hoarded so many useless possessions that their homes were literally filled up to the brim with boxes, leaving them no space to actually live in. Apparently that last one wasn't normal though and people who had that many possessions were often on
reality tee-vee
. The concept of fictional broadcasting in general fascinated me. Broadcasting existed in The Complex of course, such as Commander SueLee's message on the train, but it seemed outlandishly frivolous to me that people used to utilize such an energy-sucking resource for nothing but pure entertainment.
Being an
actor
sounded like such a fun job, though. Too bad fictional “storytelling” no longer existed as broadcasts.
              The possessions I had were mostly things I made, or things made for me. Once a year we were allowed to take a photo of our choosing using “antiques” called Polaroid cameras. We were supposed to treasure those photos because sooner rather than later any and all Polaroid film would be used up and newer generations would not have the privilege. The government didn't bother to use its resources to create more Polaroid film for the same reason they did not bother to produce fictional broadcasting; it was simply not necessary for our continued survival.
              Last year, rather than pose with my parents, I chose to take a photo that consisted of myself and my two best friends, Willow and Reese. We posed outside of a classroom and another friend of ours, Sahara, snapped the photo for us. The image was proudly displayed on the wall above my bed. I had taped it next to the photo from the previous year which was taped next the picture from the year before that, and so-on.
              Burdened with the frustration of claustrophobia, I stared longingly at my most recent photo and for the first time since it was taken I realized it was a lie. My best friends and I appeared as equals, threaded arm in arm with warm, inviting smiles plastered across our faces. I still recalled that day quite clearly and although I was smiling from cheek to cheek, it was not a warm, inviting happy grin but one of nervousness and impatience. I had wanted to stand next to Reese, but Willow had jumped into the middle of the photo and Reese and I were on either side of her. I felt helpless because I knew that if I asked her to switch places with me she would want to know why, and what was I supposed to say? The photo was taken months ago and I had not been ready to admit to myself, much less to Willow, that I wanted more from Reese than just his friendship. I was not happy in that moment, although I know I appeared otherwise. That caused me to stare at the photo-capture of my two friends and I with a new pair of eyes. What were both of them secretly thinking in that moment? Part of me wondered if Willow knew that I had feelings for Reese perhaps even before I realized it myself. As I let my memories roll backwards in time, countless instances suddenly surfaced where Willow inserted herself between the two of us or drew my attention away from Reese. It could all be coincidence, or she could have been subtly trying to discourage me. Or, just to throw a third possibility into the boiling pot, she could have simply been feeling jealous or left out by the unintentional extra attention I had been giving Reese and she was trying to stay as relevant and important to my life as Reese seemed to be. Mom once warned me that sometimes having two best friends could get dramatic during our teenage years.
             
But the boy is in danger.
             
Was Reese even alive? He
had
to be. I knew how ridiculous this sounded but I was certain I would know if he were gone. I would feel it. A treasured and important part of me would suddenly cease to exist.
              I scrutinized the photo with even more intensity. Willow's almond shaped, doe-brown eyes were looking directly into the camera lens,
hamming it up
, as my mom would say, whatever that meant. Willow tended to get excited whenever her picture was taken and I didn't blame her; she was flawlessly beautiful. Personally, I was far too self-conscious and awkward to fully enjoy getting my photo taken. I was staring into the camera lens as well but my gaze lacked Willow's confidence. It appeared as though I was looking
through
the lens, staring at something else entirely or perhaps just lost in my own imagination, wallowing in disappointment that I was not standing next to Reese.
              I hadn't noticed before that Reese had not been looking into the lens at all. His eyes were glancing just the tiniest bit to his right, perhaps caught in mid-shift as he was glancing over at Willow – or maybe over at
me
. His smile was a bit tighter than his usual grin and the tiny lines that stretched across the corners of his lips proved it. It wasn’t his real smile which meant his thoughts had probably been elsewhere, too! What if he had been thinking the same thing I was in that very same moment? What if he was wishing that I was the one standing next to him instead of Willow?
              I reached up and gently peeled the picture off of the wall. My throat tightened. My thumb caressed the glossy texture over Reese's cheek. Tunnel vision eliminated myself and Willow from the photo and my eyes remained on his face only.
             
I have to save you.
             
How could I save Reese when I couldn't even leave my barracks? While Reese was in danger, maybe hurt, maybe put to death, maybe hunted, I was sitting in my safe, cozy chambers with only a photo of him that would eventually fade, wishing I was by his side.
              I tossed the picture across the room. The corner of the Polaroid hit the wall with a faint thwack and then fell to the floor. The picture was a lie. Our expressions were forced and our thoughts had been anything but genuine in the moment. Staring at a momentary capture of Reese's face was not going to save him. It was not
proactive
. Throughout the last two days I had made more than one promise to more than one person. I couldn't keep them all.
             
Sorry, Dad. I can't stay away from Reese. I love him. You wouldn't just leave Mom in danger. You would risk your life for her, so I have to do the same.
             
How was I supposed to save Reese, or even find him? A flatfoot was stationed in the hallway basically holding us prisoner. No, not basically,
literally
. Mom was content to convince herself it was for our own good as well as for the good of others so that we wouldn't spread the virus. Dad was the patriarch, the grown-up, the man with a secret he had to protect by acting as normal as possible when eyes were turned his way. His outer appearance of compliance truly was for the good of his family and for others in The Complex. I understood why he was sitting tight, why he wasn't fighting tooth and nail to find out what kind of danger Reese was in and to save him. To risk saving Reese would be to risk the lives of the whole Order. I had no idea how many were in the Order. Was it just a select group of people that worked with Dad in the artificial gardens or was it all of the gardeners? Were there people in the Order from other occupations? How long had the Order existed? Did it reach outside of Rhode Island? Was the shipping invoice code something potential members in other divisions would be able to understand, too? That possibility actually gave me hope. If the Order was truly that large, maybe Reese had a chance. Maybe others were already working to save him. Only... the code hadn't said that. It had only communicated that he was in danger.
              That was the last straw. One way or another I had to find my way out of these barracks and I had to find Reese.
              I knew this was a foolish idea. I was putting Dad and perhaps the whole Order in danger but I knew that if Reese were killed and I had done nothing but sit in my bedroom staring at his picture and pining for him, I would hate myself too much to ever look in the mirror again.
              The intensity of my resolve was unsettling. I felt as if a heavy blanket had draped itself over my body and plunged me into darkness, and then something heavy was pushing me down toward the ground. I closed my eyes and bent my body forward. I pressed my hands to my knees. Here it was again, the third time in less than two days that my lungs seemed to be caving in on themselves.
             
Reese.
              Reese, I need you. No –
you
need
me
.
              We need each other.
             
Reese’s face came out of the darkness, again. I could make out the shadow of his jawline, the flow of his swept-back, thick hair and the way his cheekbones moved just slightly when his lips shifted from a smile to a frown. I reached for him but his hand was just a few inches too far away. I could see shapes – his fingers – wiggling, trying to stretch, trying to reach for my own. I did not care if it hurt, or if I fell because somehow I knew he would catch me. I leaned forward as far as I could on the balls of my feet, and then, I let myself go.
              My fingers slid through his. I could feel them, solid flesh, warm to the touch and
real
. But how, when even despite this willful vision I knew it existed only in my imagination?
              The compression across my lungs loosened. I could breathe again but in that same moment the comfort of Reese's hand in mine dissolved.
             
No! Come back!
             
I rocked forward on my feet again but this time gravity was stronger than my vision. I flailed my arms and almost fell flat on my face, in fact I would have if my palm hadn't slammed against the wall by pure chance.
              I let the wall support me and I took a deep breath in, then slowly let carbon dioxide back out into the limited, artificial atmosphere. Another breath in. Another exhale. Once again, Reese got me through another panic attack. Once again, Reese saved me. Now it was my turn to save him. No more of this forgetting how to breathe nonsense. No more subconsciously almost shutting down my body because my mind did not know how to deal with the shocking reality behind the veil of lies.
              I was in love. Painfully, irrevocably in love. But I was also still
me
. I was still the girl who was not content with the idea of being a wife and a mother while locked in The Complex with no other purpose than to breed so that humanity still existed on the day when we found a new home on a new planet.
             
Come on. Like that’s ever going to happen.
             
And why should it, when it seemed that life was still sustainable on the surface? I wish I knew if the government realized we could live up there or not. If they did, why were they really keeping us down here?
             
NO. STOP IT.
             
These were all valid questions but they were for a later time. The only chance I had of getting myself through figuring out how to save Reese was going to be to take one step at a time, focus on one thing at a time. So...where was I supposed to start?
              I would have to start with my parents. I knew Dad would never allow me to try and leave the barracks while under confinement. I was his daughter and it was his instinct to protect me. I couldn’t ask for his help. He couldn’t know my plan until it would be too late for him to stop me. But, how could I escape without putting my parents in danger? Even if I could somehow get past the flatfoot guarding our barracks, my parents would be under suspicion of aiding in my escape and the whole Order would be in danger which meant that if Reese was still alive – and he
had
to be – he would be put in even
more
danger. For a moment I considered that maybe the best thing I could do for Reese was to do nothing and let my dad and the Order
handle things
. I knew that’s what Dad would tell me if he felt it was safe to speak freely. It wasn't that I didn't believe in or trust my father. I did trust him, even though I had just found out that he had all kinds of secrets and in a way, was a completely different man than I thought he was. I still knew he was a good man, and I knew he was my father. I still believed in him. But Reese was not his child. As far as I knew, unless one or both of his parents were in the Order too, no one had any reason to risk their lives to save his. No one except me because I loved him. Reese had no one to put him first but me.
              There were very few perks of growing up in The Complex and (until last night's trip to Connecticut to meet Connor) being confined to only one small division throughout my whole life. I knew Rhode Island very well. I knew my way to each and every room and area and I knew the basics of how things worked. I knew we had large generators in each division that played the replacement role that trees and plants used to play on the surface; somehow maintaining our atmosphere by turning carbon dioxide into oxygen for us to breathe. I had no idea how they did this but I knew they existed and I knew where they were. I knew that ventilation was filtered into each and every barrack and the screen to ours was in our bathroom. I wondered, was the ventilation system as connected as our own hallways? It seemed ludicrous to assume that the generators had separate, non-connected passageways that not only brought air circulation to each and every barrack, but all of the community rooms and artificial gardens as well. They had to be interconnected, and if so, I could find my way around by climbing through them! Assuming I could fit through them. Truthfully I had no idea, at all, how wide they were because despite having spent my whole life in this barrack it never occurred to me to remove the screen and look. I knew Dad removed the screen and cleaned it every few months but it had never been of any interest to me. Maybe my idea was impossible but at least it was a place to start.