Dark World: The Surface Girl (7 page)

              “This isn't about tonight.” I paused and tried to find the inner strength, and nerve, to say what needed to be said. I kept my voice low, just in case. “This is about the little girl in the passageway.”
              The shift in my father's demeanor was instantaneous. His expression, only a moment ago creased with gentle concern now had lines of panic. His thick red brows practically leapt to the top of his forehead and his lips parted to fully show off his rows of (mostly) white teeth, gums and all. His eyes darted left, then right, and suddenly he was my mother with uncontrollable paranoia and fear taking him over. “Oh,” he finally responded in an intentionally, dramatically loud voice. “You mean that story I used to tell you when you were a kid!” That could not have sounded less natural if he had tried. He leapt up from the couch like it was on fire. The only other time I had seen my dad move that fast toward me was when I was ten years old and raging as the flatfoots dragged Grandpa Logan out of our barracks. He grabbed my wrist and practically yanked me to my feet. He dragged me into our bathroom and shut the door. Only then did he let out a relieved sigh before letting go of my wrist. I brought it back to myself and rubbed at it, taking an instinctive step backwards. He was actually frightening me a bit. I wanted to run again. Maybe confronting him wasn't such a good idea after all. He leaned toward me and narrowed his eyes.
              “Tell me what you know,” he whispered but still in a very demanding tone. I shied away and tried to take a step back but I was already up against the wall. My own father had cornered me. I swallowed past a lump in my throat. There was no point in trying to sugar coat anything or lie.

              “I was in the passageway and I
saw
her. She clutched a torn piece of our division uniform fabric, and you have a torn shirt.” His eyes narrowed even more.

              “Did she say anything?” I shifted my eyes and trembled.

              “No.” My throat tightened. “But, she indicated something, when I asked her where she was from.”
              “What, Ruby?” He hissed through his teeth. This was not the man I knew. This was not the man who used to get on all fours and play “horsey” with me, or even the man who hated seeing his little girl growing up and preparing to be someones wife. This was a man with secrets and things to lose.
              “She pointed
up
.” He visibly twitched. His tongue ran over his lips and the lines around the corners of his mouth tightened, but my words did not seem to shock him the way I assumed they would. He must have more secrets than I thought. Who
was
this man?

              “Listen to me very, very carefully. Your mother will be back any moment with your cake. You are to smile and be an obedient daughter. Let her help you get ready for tonight. Don't say or do anything to trigger her fear. When your escort arrives, go willingly. Meet Connor. Be polite and courteous. Don't give anyone any reason to suspect you for – anything. Anything at all. Do you understand?”
             
No!
That wasn't enough! What did my dad know? How, and why? I needed answers! I needed to understand what was happening here, didn't he realize that? I shook my head and felt the long ends of my hair clinging to my shirt. Dad's large hands curled around my shoulders and he shook me. He had never laid a hand on me before in my life. “Listen to me!” He hissed desperately. “Our lives may depend on this!”
Our lives?
Did that mean we were already in danger? Was it because of whatever my dad's secrets were, or was it because of me, and what Reese and I did today? “Get yourself through the rest of the day in one piece, and I swear to you as your father, you'll have all the answers I can give you. But, you
have
to get through today without acting up.” So this was basically blackmail. I had to agree to cooperate when it came to accepting Connor as my future husband or my father would tell me nothing.

              Maybe I was looking at this all wrong. As much as I dreaded tonight, I already had no real plans to flee or try and escape because I knew what it would do to my mom. All my dad was asking me to do was what I was already planning on doing.
              Then again, everything was different than it had been this morning. This morning I was a naïve dreamer but now I was an individual who had seen enough to realize that all of my silly questions and flights of fancy might not be as imaginary as I was urged to believe. My dad was involved in – something. Reese had feelings for me. There was a little girl in the sealed off passageways of The Complex who might be from the surface, or she might be a government spy. How was I supposed to pretend everything was normal when it was anything but. “You
have
to tell me the truth,” I whispered. “If I do this today you
have
to tell me!” He quickly nodded. Too quickly, I suspected, but what other choice did I have right now but to believe him?
              “Okay.” He agreed with a determined expression etched across his worry lines. My father and I both jerked our heads as we heard the beep of the barrack door opening. Mom was back. He quickly opened the bathroom door and stepped out. I followed a moment later and tried to look calm. I cleared my throat and ran my fingers through my hair as I walked into the living room. Mom was standing there holding a small cake with a smile on her face that crinkled from ear to ear.
              “This is your most exciting Birthday yet,” she squealed.

             
Exciting. What a fitting word.
             
If only she knew. If only she had one single clue.

Chapter 3

              I have no idea how I managed to smile while my mom fawned over me post-cake. She was blissfully, cluelessly happy when she presented me with my present, a hand-made dress. Only on very special occasions could we wear anything but our division-issued uniforms. All different types of clothes that served all sorts of purposes existed B-I, but now there was no need for choices. We were in an enclosure with limited resources so it was far easier to produce mass-quantities of the same types of clothing than to somehow make different fabrics and patterns for us to pick and choose from. That seemed frivolous even to me. But, first dates with our future mates and our wedding day called for a small exception to the practicality of uniformed clothing, and since my mom worked in the sewing rooms, she was able to personally create my dress. Girls whose moms did not work in the sewing rooms had to trade and barter for a special dress so I was expected to consider myself lucky.
              “Try it on!” Mom squeaked excitedly as she shoved the dress into my hands. The privilege of wearing something
new
was the last thing on my mind right now. The dread I had been feeling about having to meet Connor tonight was barely on my radar anymore; many other things were swimming around in my brain like worms trying to move through thick mud.

             
Dad was involved in something dangerous.
              Reese defied Doctrine regularly by exploring the old passageways.
              Reese kissed me. God... it was amazing. It felt like flying.
              There is a mysterious little girl wandering our passageways.
              Was she a government spy, or a mutant?
              What if she really
was
from the surface? What did that mean?
             
I turned and headed to my chambers, softly closing the door behind me. I glanced down at the dress. It was bright green like my eyes. Mom knew how much I loved green. This was the exact shade I had always imagined grass to be. The material felt considerably softer than what our standard-issued uniforms were made out of. I recalled Mom explaining to me once that there was some kind of weaving machine she used for special occasion dresses, but I never had any interest in her job so I couldn’t recall the details. I climbed out of my shirt and pants and held the dress over my head. It slipped down my arms effortlessly and somehow managed to cling to my body below my shoulders without falling, although it was a bit loose. I turned my head after a soft knock on my door made me jump a bit. “Can I come in?”
              “Sure, Mom.” My door opened. Mom walked to me and gently tugged at my dress. It tightened right below my bust line and around my waist.
              “There are clasps,” she explained. “When they're open you can slip in and out of the dress but closing them makes the garment hug your body. Would you like to see?” It was definitely a new, strange feeling to have a piece of clothing hugging my figure but not providing a barrier between my thighs. Our regulation uniforms were designed for warmth, movement and comfort. Practicality was the goal. This dress was clearly designed for the gazing eye of the onlooker without much thought to the awkwardness the wearer would feel. I supposed the priority of my comfort was considered a distant second when it came to an obligation to visually impress my mate. I quickly closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about that.
              “Yes,” I finally managed to answer in a soft voice. Mom's fingers curled around my bare shoulders as she turned me toward my mirror. I gasped. I had never seen myself so outwardly exposed before. The dress had just enough tightness under my breasts to lift them a bit and cause a crease between them –
cleavage
– if I remembered correctly. That's what Willow called it. She was quite busty. Then, my waist seemed to curve inward, and my hips swayed outward. I couldn't stop a slight warm blush from spreading across my cheeks. I had stolen a glance or two at my own naked body growing up like all girls do when their chest starts to fill and their curves start to appear, but no one else had seen me without clothing since I was a small child and clothing hid or minimized attention to all of those bodily changes. This dress did not hide them at all. I turned my shoulders slightly to the right, then to the left. I stepped to one side, then the other. Every time I shifted, my whole body moved with me (obviously) but I had never paid attention to the fluidity of my own movements before. I was –
elegant
. It was strange to be pleasantly surprised by something that I had never really thought about before nor consciously wanted. My throat tightened. Was I
beautiful?

             
No.
             
I didn't want to be beautiful. I didn't want Connor to see me in this dress and stare at my cleavage, my waist, my hips and my slightly rounded backside. I didn't want him to want me. I turned my head away from my mom so she couldn't see my face. “Can I have a minute alone?” Her hand fell from my shoulder.

              “Of course, honey. I'll be right back, your father is going to want to see how perfect you look.” I held my breath until she closed my door. I tore my eyes away from the mirror. The memory of Reese's lips pressed to mine was still alive inside of me. I could still feel their warmth and moisture. I still remembered the shudder that ran up my spine like being tickled from the inside out by the tip of a feather when he breathed against my mouth. I cautiously allowed my gaze to return to the mirror. If only Reese could see me in this. Would he want to kiss me again? Would his arms curl around my surprisingly slender waist and pull me close until my chest was pressing against his? Would his lips brush across mine again, and maybe my neck, and the groove that connected my neck to my shoulder? Thinking about it was too much. It was a dream that would never be reality. He had kissed me because I was having a panic attack, not because he wanted me. It wasn't Reese that would be seeing me in this dress tonight, it was Connor. I couldn't do anything to stop it. I promised my father that I would get through tonight and he promised he would tell me the truth when I did. I
had
to go through with this.
              I pulled my shoulders back and tried to fill myself with resolve. I would allow the escort to take me to Connecticut. I would meet Connor. I would be polite and respectful. I would appear to be cooperative and accepting, but I would not let him put his hands on me. Not tonight. Not in this dress. If Reese couldn't touch me while I was in this dress, no one could.

              My eyes stared into their own reflection. They seemed greener today but maybe it was the color of the dress bringing out their sharpness. I would never be able to look at Connor the way I looked at Reese when his lips parted from mine. I was okay with that. Maybe Connor would see the ice in my eyes and know from the very first moment that I would never truly be his. That would be for the best. I closed my eyes again and all I saw was Reese. I saw loose strands of his thick, chocolate hair resting across his forehead. I saw the dimples that formed on the corners of his mouth when he smiled. I saw the way his upper arm muscles bulged and curved when he lifted things. I opened my eyes and I could still see him. It was as if images of Reese had shifted from my imagination and burned themselves into my retinas.
              “Reese..” I whispered out loud without meaning to. I pulled my shoulders back. “Connor may have me by Doctrine... but he will
never
have my heart. I promise you that.” I quickly turned my head as a soft knock interrupted my pained, fleeting promises. My door opened and my mother re-entered with my father behind her. He stood up straight; tall, like a tree, and looked at me with calm eyes. How could he be so calm? He was
involved
in something dangerous, something that went against Doctrine, and he knew that I knew. How could he bury himself under such an obedient exterior and be my mom's rock when he had secrets that should be weighing him down? I could barely look him in the eye. He brushed past my mom and curled his large arms around me in a hug. It was an outwardly sweet gesture but I also suspected that he did it to hide my awkwardness.

              “You look flawless,” he said to me in a prideful tone. “Connor is a lucky man.”

              No, he wasn't. He was about to meet a future wife who could not love him. There was nothing lucky about that at all. I offered my dad a closed-mouth smile. My mother stepped to my dresser and carefully picked up the paper flower. She brushed some of my whispy red strands backward and slipped the flower behind my ear. “NOW she looks like perfection.” My parents each took a few steps backward and stared at me with pride. I curled my arms protectively around my waist. Mom sighed and brought her hands under her chin. “You grew up so fast,” she muttered in a sentimental tone. “Our time with you is coming to an end.” I hated seeing her like this. I hated the sadness in her voice. I sympathized with her fears, but being so obedient to Doctrine when it came to my requirement to accept Connor being matched as my mate wasn’t just hurting me, it was hurting her too. Seeing her tearing up like this made me despise the government even more. “Come on, darling. It's almost time.”

              I followed my parents into the living room. I sat and it felt strange. The dress rode up a bit and my legs felt exposed. Mom reminded me to keep my knees together so I appeared ladylike. She gave me some last-minute instructions but my brain was firing cannonballs in every direction but hers. Fear and dread flashed aimlessly in my head about having to face Connor. I tried to pretend I was even remotely interested in getting to know him in order to prepare for a lifetime of being his wife, but as soon as my thoughts started organizing, they began moving rapidly in a triangle that began with my dad, paused on the mystery of the little girl, and ended with my confusion and longing for Reese. I glanced down at my hands as they rested on my lap. They were trembling.

              Our door buzzed. Grandpa Logan used to call it a 'door bell' but it was just the warning sound that came from our print-pad when someone touched it that did not have a matching fingerprint. Mom hurried to the door and opened it. She immediately took a few steps back and bowed her head. A stern-looking flatfoot entered without being verbally invited. His gaunt face was stone; expressionless. He was, in reality, about my dad's height but something about the stiff way he stood made him seem taller. His unyielding stance was intimidating. He was older than Dad. His hair was greying and his face was riddled with jutting, defined lines that ran under his eyes and across the corners of his mouth. I involuntarily shuddered. The last time a flatfoot was in our barracks was when they dragged Grandpa Logan away. I couldn't even look at this monster, he was already evil in my eyes. “Good evening,” he began with a blatant lack of sincerity. “My assignment is to escort R-1046 to begin her courtship with C-2246.”  My eyes darted accusingly in my parents direction. I couldn't say it out loud but I knew my gaze communicated my words like a scream.
You didn't say my escort would be a
flatfoot
. YOU DIDN'T SAY. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT!
             
A calm part of me understood. My parents knew that Grandpa being sent to the transitional containers had frightened me to the core and caused me to resent Doctrine. They knew that to me, every flatfoot represented the one who took him so a part of me understood why they didn't tell me, but that didn't stop me from feeling betrayed nonetheless. They both shrank away from my icy stare. I shifted my piercing eyes to the flatfoot. I no longer cared if he saw my resentment. I slowly lifted my backside off of the couch and stood tall on my feet. “Let's go.” I would never, ever let one of them drag me out of my barracks against my will.

              The flatfoot did not introduce himself. That was more than fine with me. I did not want to know his name or ID number. All flatfoots were the same. They were monsters.
              I followed the beast semi-willingly out of my barracks without glancing back at my parents one last time. I knew that was immature of me and even a little bit cruel, but the sting of betrayal was still prevalent in my mind.

             
Reese. Reese. Reese. Where are you?
I wanted him to appear around the next corner. I wanted him to take my hand and pull me away from the flatfoot. We would run so far and so fast that the flatfoot would never be able to keep up or find us. We would escape back into the sealed passageway. We would run even more until we were hidden so well we would never be found again. I would bend over and press my palms into my knees as my heart went wild in my chest. I would stumble and Reese would catch me in his arms, holding my weight effortlessly as if I were made of air. I would turn to him and press my body against his. Our lips would find each others and we would know with absolute certainty that I belonged to him, and he belonged to me. We would be two halves of one person. We would be together for eternity and nothing else would matter.

              Every corner we rounded was empty. Reese was not going to save me. The sting of fresh betrayal, irrational as it may be, invaded me like a cancer.

              We approached the door to the tram. I had stood here before, alone a few times and a few other times with Reese, staring at it longingly as if it were a symbol of escape. If only I could leave my division and see something new, the claustrophobic pressure I always felt weighted down by might lift and make this limited life just a bit easier to bear. Now though, it was no longer a doorway to freedom, but to dread. The flatfoot pressed his thumb to the plate. The door opened. I impulsively took a few steps backwards. Only then did the flatfoot turn and semi-acknowledge my presence. He lifted his hand and pointed a single finger toward the door. “Walk.” The very act of his command increased my resentment and tempted my desire to resist. I refused to lower my head in resignation or look at him. I knew I had to do this but I was not going to sacrifice my dignity in the process. I allowed my hands to remain in their fisted state but I pressed them into my sides as I forced my stiffened legs forward. One step, two steps, three steps – and I was past the threshold. The door swung shut behind us with a finalizing click. My heart rate increased again so I tried to take a few slow breaths. I couldn't allow myself to have another panic attack. Reese was not here this time to warm the chill deep down in my soul and save me.