In the End (Starbounders) (9 page)

“But you
saw
me,” I cry, seething with frustration. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“Just trust me.” He glances at me, then away. “Please. I’ll try to get back soon.”

He slinks the gate shut. I kick the bars. I pace for a few minutes, waiting for him to leave the cellblock, then open the gate back up and call for Pam.

“Yeah?” she says, poking her head out. “Oh, hey there, Amy.”

“You want company today on your sewing rounds?”

“Sure I do. Just got to finish up a few things. I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”

I sit on the bed, and before I can again begin to feel the frustration take over, there is the sound of metal on metal at the door. . . . A knock? I look up to find the Warden staring at me through the bars. In his grasp is a handgun, the butt of which he used as a door knocker.

“Well, hello, little lady.”

“Um. Hi,” I say, confused. “Jacks isn’t here.”

“I know. Can I come in and have a little talk with ya?”

I stand, uncertain. The last time I opened the door to a man who wasn’t Jacks, I was attacked. And that man wasn’t brandishing a gun like it was a fashion accessory. The Warden catches me eyeing his gun and holsters it.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, Amy.” He takes a key out of his pocket. “Here’s my spare anyway.” He unlocks the door and lets himself in. “I just want to have a little talk about Jacks.”

“All right,” I say, backing away. Distrust is nagging at me, but I try to quiet it. He is Jacks’s uncle, after all. He was nothing but kind the first day we met. The Warden comes in and sits down on the chair, putting his cowboy-boot-clad feet on the table. I stifle my unease and sit on the bed, eyeing him warily.

“J. J. seems quite taken with you,” he says finally.

“J. J.?”

“Jackson Junior. He didn’t tell you? The man that everyone just calls Doc is my brother, his father.” He tells me the information as if it should be a shock, and if Pam hadn’t already outed him, it would be.

“Oh, yeah. Jacks told me,” I say. The Warden looks disappointed by this fact. His face drops slightly.

“Well, I just have his best interests in mind.” He kicks his feet off the table and sits up, adjusting his Stetson hat. “I wouldn’t want him to find out certain things about you. . . . Things that might hurt him in the end.”

“What things?” I ask carefully, studying his face. He stands suddenly and hovers over me.

“Now, Amy, you and I both know you ain’t what you seem.” His hand reaches up and grabs a strand of my short hair. He tugs on it. “I wouldn’t want you doing anything to hurt Jacks.”

“I wouldn’t,” I say, swallowing hard. The Warden is too close, and I have no idea what to do. I want to lash out, to fight, but what will happen then? And he isn’t actually hurting me, just being vaguely threatening. I decide to go against my impulse and do nothing. I stand still, though every nerve in my body screams to push him away.

“I
will
protect him,” he tells me.

“Like you protected Layla?” I ask. I don’t know why. It just slips out.

The Warden’s grasp on my hair tightens, pulling my head closer. “A girl can die really easily in here. Especially a sweet little thang like you. Watch your step. Do you understand?” He gives my hair another tug, and it feels as if he may pull the roots from my scalp.

“Yes,” I say, gasping.

“Yes, Warden,” he tells me.

“Yes, Warden,” I repeat.

“Amy.” He backs away, his anger gone, replaced with a teasing smile. “You’re practically family. Call me Johnny.”

I nod, uncertain of what has just happened but grateful he’s stepped away from me.

The Warden smiles. “See ya later, Amy.” He dips his hat and saunters out.

I lock the bike lock behind him and walk to the sink, putting cool water on my flushed face. My hands shake, and I clench them into fists. Did the Warden pay me a visit just to intimidate me? I think of everything Jacks has told me about him: his corruption, his greed for power. Was he just trying to get the upper hand? Or was he trying to insert himself between me and Jacks, make me rethink asking Jacks’s help? I sit on the bed, confused. And what does he really know about me? Was he bluffing or does he know about New Hope?

After a few moments Pam’s voice carries across the cell. “What was
that
about?”

I shrug, unable to answer.

“Are you shaken, honey? Do you still want to come along with me?”

“Oh, yes. Please. I need to get out of this room.”

“Well, come on then.”

I spring out of the cell and grab her basket of clothes.

“I’m making deliveries to the next cellblock over—Block C,” she explains as we walk down the stairs to the first floor.

“Did you hear the whole thing?” I ask Pam, and she gives me a nod. “What do you think the Warden came for?”

“Oh, you mean Johnny?” she asks with a half smirk that makes me feel better. “I think he just wanted to show you who’s the big boss. Maybe he thinks Jacks is getting too attached to you. Have you asked him to miss work or do anything the Warden might think of as going against him?”

“No . . . I . . .” I did ask him to help me find Ken. He told me at first he didn’t want to, but I pushed him. That can’t be it, can it?

We step out of Cellblock B and into the shantytown that was originally the exercise yard. I know Pam makes the trip all the time by herself, so I quiet my unease.

As we leave Cellblock B, a greasy-looking man stares at us, eyes narrowed. Pam flashes her tattooed arm at him. He backs away.

“That’s all you need to do?” I ask. Did that filthy man yesterday really think I was fair game just because I don’t have a tattoo?

“Yep. All you have to do is show off your tat. . . . It works, especially when your man’s well known for his skills with a rifle”—she eyes me—“or when you belong to the Warden’s nephew. You should show off your tat of Jacks’s name. . . . It would save you some time explaining to everyone. You do have a tattoo, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” I don’t meet her eyes as we walk the thirty or so feet to the entrance of Cellblock C. “Of course.”

“He must have done something special for his girl. Can I see it?” She asks me with a half smirk. She knows I’m lying. I stop and turn to her.

“Um . . . look, Pam, I don’t really have a tattoo. I . . . I’m afraid of needles. You should have seen how much trouble I had with the one on my wrist. I almost fainted,” I lie. “Jacks didn’t want to put me through the trauma. Maybe you could tell everyone you’ve seen it, though?”

She appraises me with a penetrating gaze, and for the first time I see how she must have been as an attorney. After a second the calculating look drops from her face, and she smiles kindly. “All right. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you two, but you’re entitled to your safety. I’ll talk it up for you. I’ll just say it looks a lot like mine.”

“Thanks, Pam,” I say, relieved. Pam turns to enter Cellblock C, and I move to follow.

And then I see him outside, down a ways from where we are.

A slight man with dark hair.

I shuffle around Pam to get a better look. The man turns to glance to the side, then back, over his left shoulder. He has a large heart-shaped mole on his cheek. My mouth drops. Could it be? He looks like Kay, like the sketch Jacks had. He looks like . . . Ken.

“Gotta go,” I say to Pam, shoving the basket of clothes at her. “I’ll see you later.”

Pam shuffles the basket to her hip and grabs my arm. “Hon, you sure you want to be running around here alone?”

I shake her off. “It’s important. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

I run through the alley between Blocks B and C, trying to catch up to the man, but there are children underfoot and men who press too closely when they pass, slowing me down. I see him skirt the corner of Cellblock C and head through the Backyard. I rush after him, my heart beating wildly when I lose him for a moment, but then I see him disappear through a door in the back wall. I rush to follow him, but an armed guard suddenly appears and blocks my way.

“No entry.”

“I’ve got to get in there,” I plead.

“There are people infected with the Black Pox in there.” He shows me his wrist:
POX
is tattooed in block letters. “Unless you’ve already survived the Pox, you’ll want to steer clear.”

“I just saw a man go through that door. I really need to talk to him.”

He looks at me curiously. “I didn’t see anyone go in here.”

“I know what I saw.” I know it was Ken. I’m sure of it.

He looks me up and down. “You need a man, honey?”

“No. . . .” My mind spins wildly. “I—uh . . . have a man. Jacks, who helps Doc . . . the Warden’s nephew,” I stress. Even if Jacks’s relationship with Doc isn’t well known, his relation to the Warden seems to be common knowledge. It might get me the access I need. “I have business back there.”

“Look, Jacks ain’t allowed back here neither. You go fetch Doc, then we can talk.” He hefts his gun to his other arm and gives me an amused look.

I step forward, thinking of pushing past him, but he drops his gun, all amusement gone. “I got one job, honey, and it’s a good one. You ain’t coming in here.”

If the gun were aimed at my chest and not my head, I would have a chance to push my way through. The bullet would hit my synth-suit and hurt like hell, but it wouldn’t kill me. As it is now, my head is unprotected. If I reach back to pull down my hood, will he think I’m reaching for a weapon and shoot me?

Frustrated, I decide to retreat. He’s eyeing me, but I can always come again later and watch for Ken. Leaning against the back wall of Cellblock B, I look who comes and goes. Mostly it’s coughing men, covered in sores. They make my skin crawl, but Jacks said I’d have to actually touch someone with the Pox to contract it. I rub my synth-suit-clad arms, glad for its thin layer of protection from the world.

Ken doesn’t reappear. When it starts to get dark, I give up and head back to my block. I don’t want to be caught out in the dark, alone.

As I walk back, I wonder if maybe I wanted to see Ken so badly that I imagined him being there. I shake my head. No! I wasn’t crazy in the Ward, and I’m not crazy now.

When I finally get back to our cell, Jacks is there, sitting on his bunk. He jumps up when he sees me.

“Amy, where the hell have you been?”

“I was out with Pam to take sewing to Cellblock C, but right when we got there, I thought I saw this guy. . . . He looked exactly like your sketch,” I tell him, still irritated that I let Ken get away. “I followed him to the back wall, but I wasn’t allowed in. I waited for him, but he didn’t come out again. Maybe I should go back and wait some more. Maybe Ken lives there.”

“No one
lives
back there,” Jacks tells me sharply. “Not by choice, and not for long, anyway. It’s full of people infected with Pox who are about to die. They keep them there until the bodies can be removed.”

I look at his dark, scowling face. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you angry?”

“Amy, I have every right to be pissed. I didn’t know where you were. I’ve been waiting for hours. You shouldn’t wander off by yourself,” he scolds.

“I’m not a child.” My voice is just as sharp as his is. “Contrary to what you’ve been telling everyone, you don’t
actually
own me. You’ve done a lot for me, but I’m not yours. Maybe you should remember that.”

His face softens slightly. “You’re right. I was just worried. I thought . . .” He looks at the floor. “I thought something had happened. Or maybe . . .” His voice trails off. “Or that maybe you decided to leave Fort Black. I thought you . . . just left me.”

In the silence that follows I wonder what it took for Jacks to admit that I’d hurt him. Already his face has begun to harden again.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him before it sets in stone again. “I promise, I won’t leave Fort Black without telling you.”

There’s another long silence, but this time I hold his gaze, neither of us daring to look away. “Jacks, your uncle came to see me today. He kind of threatened me I think.”

“Threatened you how?” he asks.

“He just . . . got really close to me.” As I say it, it sounds ridiculous, but it’s hard to explain how it made me feel. Helpless. “He told me that a girl can die really easily here and to watch my step.”

Jacks nods. “I’m sorry if he scared you, but that’s how he is. He tries to intimidate everyone. It’s my fault. I was stupid and asked him about Ken. He told me he didn’t know who that was. . . . But, Amy, he must know something, or he wouldn’t have come to talk to you. He doesn’t like that I’m helping you.”

Almost in a whisper, I ask, “Why
are
you helping me?” My heart beats faster as I utter the question. I’m not sure how I want him to respond.

“At first I thought you needed protecting, a messed-up girl on her own. You remind me a lot of my sister. Although Layla wasn’t half as aggressive as you are,” he says, shaking his head. “I wasn’t able to keep her safe, so I thought maybe I could help you.”

“And now?”

He shifts from one foot to the other, looking almost nervous. “You’re just . . . not like a lot of people here, Amy. You stood up to Tank. You question things. You’re not a sheep. You’re fearless.” He breaks my gaze. “And I’m scared all the time,” Jacks admits quietly. “Those Floraes—they scare me shitless. I don’t think I can ever leave the prison, not with them out there. But you . . . You were outside these walls for years. I can’t even imagine leaving for a few seconds. That’s all it takes for the creatures to kill you, you know, a few seconds. But it doesn’t even bother you. I was wrong before, on the wall after the trial. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“No, you’re wrong now,” I say. “I
wish
I were fearless. But I’m scared of so many things.” Of facing Dr. Reynolds, of never seeing Baby. I’m frightened of the ways that Kay and Gareth are being punished for my escape. I’m afraid that I’ll never find a place to belong. That I’ll be stuck wandering the After for the rest of my life.

“Just try to make it work here, Amy,” Jacks says. “If you shoot half as good as you fight, you could be a guard.”