Inside the Palisade (15 page)

“I’m not sorry we did that,” he says, arranging the fabric across his shoulders.

“Me either.” My entire body thrums with the need to hold him again, to follow him. But I force myself to stay where I am. If I let myself reach out for him, I’ll never be able to let him go.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like,” he says.

Oh.
My cheeks burn. It’s not that he likes me. He was only curious. No wonder it was so easy for men to trick defenseless women into becoming Expectants, in the ancient times.

“Meg?” He looks horrified by my reaction. “Oh no, Meg.”

He strides over and takes my hands, pulling them to his chest
and wrapping them in one of his. Enfolding me in his arms, he draws his cloak around both of us, creating a perfect cocoon. “I’ll never forget you. Whatever happens to me. You’ve changed my life.” He pulls away and forces me to look at him. His eyes bore into mine and they’re telling me hello and goodbye at the same time. He rests his forehead against mine and his words are a caress. “You’ll always be my Meg.”

I don’t know how I manage to let him go, but I do. My plan is to stay in the shadows for a few more hours, long enough for him to get outside the palisade. He’s headed for an old gate in the palisade Delta told him about. It was part of their original plan. He wouldn’t let me go there with him. Said there’s too much open land, there would be too great a risk of my being spotted with him. So he left me at the reflection pool. I stare at the water until the sun begins to set, the hollow in my chest opening until I feel like it’s going to swallow me whole. It’s almost too dark to see the path when I finally pick my way back to the housing block.

As I walk, my mind replays the sensation of Ghent’s lips on mine, the way his heart thumped strong and solid beneath my palm. Now he’s gone. I pray he’ll be safe out there. Hugging my arms around me, I quicken my pace as the sun’s rays disappear from the sky, and my path is plunged into darkness, illuminated dimly by solar-powered lamps. I can’t see much by their light: only a few clumps of flowers growing wild beside the pathway and the smoke puffing from the factory’s chimney in the distance.

Eventually, the lights of the housing block come into view. A handful of workers straggle home from the factories and the fields. Life goes on. The lights are on in the Temples’ quarters. Gamma’s probably waiting for me. Her mother could be there too, but it’s a chance I’ll have to take. Slipping to the side entrance, I’m confronted by a shadowy figure on the stoop, knees clutched to her chest. Her head snaps up when I came into view.

“Omega?”

It’s Gamma. She doesn’t move, even when I take a hesitant step closer. She’s not looking at me at all. She’s staring into the distance.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Her face is pale, eyes wide and lost. I crouch in front of her, reaching slowly to touch her knee. A few women have wandered up the path. Not wanting them to hear us, I pull Gamma to her feet and drag her away from the stoop. She lets me move her without protest. Her shoulders slump as we wait for the women to pass. One dumps a cigarette butt in the dirt before she goes inside the housing block.

I grasp Gamma’s wrists. Her skin is icy. “What’s going on?”

“They weren’t just rumors,” she says. “
Demen
are real. Real people. And my mom is a murderer.” Her voice cracks on the last word.

“Tell me what this is about.” My fingers dig into her forearms as I will her to focus.

“It’s true. Delta and Epsilon have a son.” She pulls free and wipes her cheeks roughly with her knuckles. “
Had
a son.”

“Gamma, please.” My heart thuds. I drag her farther from the building so we’re out of earshot of anyone who might pass by on their way home.

“Delta and Epsilon’s
son,
” she says. “He came for them. Did you see him? My mother made me stay in her office, but I heard everything. She left her comm channel open. I heard everything. He was real. He was a real person. Like us.”

She drops to her knees and I sink down beside her.

“What happened?” I ask.

“He’s dead,” she says. “My mother killed him.”

A chill descends over me. No. Ghent’s not dead. He escaped the palisade. I reach for Gamma but she shoves me away and rises to her feet, turning away from the housing block. I follow, catching up easily, and I grab her elbow. She rounds on me. “He was real. And Mom’s a killer, a hired hand for the Protectors.”

“Please. Tell me.”

“Delta and Epsilon’s son. He came to the Clinic. To turn himself in.” Her eyes glisten in the moonlight.

“No, he got away.” It’s a risk to reveal I know even this much, but she doesn’t seem to notice my slip.

“Yes, he got away.” She pauses. “The first time.”

What?

“The first time he went to the Clinic he planted some kind of listening device in his mothers’ room. The Med-Techs found a transmitter on the floor beside the bed.”

So that’s what happened to the transmitter. I dropped it. In his mothers’ room.

“Why would he do that?” I ask, knowing that he didn’t do it at all. It was me.

“To monitor his birth mother’s condition,” Gamma says. An image of Epsie plays in my mind. So like her son. Tousled brown hair and deathly pale skin. “He knew what was wrong with her, that there was only one chance to make her better. It was actually quite brave. That’s when I realized. He was a person. Just like us. He did exactly what I’d do to save someone I love.”

She grabs my hand as if it’s a lifeline.

“None of this makes sense,” I say.

“No, it doesn’t,” Gamma said. “If he could get into their room, why didn’t he talk to them? Why only plant a transmitter? The Protectors think he might have done it remotely, like through a vent or something.” Gamma’s missed my point. And anyway I know exactly how the transmitter got there. “He was listening in, you see. He heard my mom talking with his mom, trying to convince her that the only chance to save her partner was a kidney transplant from a blood relative.”

“And Delta suggested they find her son?” I ask, horrified at the betrayal.

“No. She kept her mouth shut even after Mom told her that her partner could die. She wouldn’t even admit that the child existed.”

“Then how did he…” My words catch in my throat as I realize exactly what must have happened. Ghent overheard the conversation
and decided to turn himself in, to sacrifice himself to save Epsie. I think back to how he was at the reflection pool. When he said goodbye he knew he wasn’t escaping the palisade. He was going to sacrifice himself to the Protectors. He wouldn’t let me go with him to the gate because he wasn’t going there himself.

“What happened after that?” I say.

“Not long after their conversation, the
deman
showed up at the Clinic. Snuck in the back way as if he didn’t want to cause a panic.”

He didn’t.

“That’s when Mom locked me away in her office,” Gamma continues, puffing a lock of hair from her mouth. “She had to go and perform the transplant.” Gamma’s voice hitches. “Then she killed him. By lethal injection. I heard one of those Protectors authorize it.”

I barely make out her last words. I’m already running. As far and as fast as my legs will carry me.

I tear down the path to the open field, stumbling over loose gravel. Gamma doesn’t follow. I run until I can’t run anymore, my breath catching in ragged gasps, hair streaming in all directions.

He’s not dead.

He can’t be.

My feet instinctively follow his directions to the wall, the gate Delta told him about. When I see it, a scream rips through my lungs. The gate is here. Exactly where it’s supposed to be. It hasn’t been touched. Not in eons by the looks of it. It’s covered with brambles. No one has passed through here in a long time. Gamma was right. Ghent didn’t come here. He went to the Clinic.

The back of my throat is raw. The massive stone wall looms over me, at least twenty feet high, smaller rocks piled on larger boulders. There are said to be huge iron spikes on the other side to protect us from the
demen.
It’s the
demen
who need protection from us.

I pummel the wall until my hands are bruised and bloody. Naturally, the stone doesn’t yield. I press my whole body into it and sink to the ground, clawing at the rock, seeding it with my blood. In this moment, I know I need to leave. I have to get outside the palisade.

But there’s something else I need to do first.

Blood trickles between my fingers as I walk in the direction of the Clinic. Its gate is open as always.
All those in need are welcome here.
The entrance is illuminated by solar panels. I approach with determined steps down the cobblestone path, shoving the glass doors open and striding into the waiting area. There’s a solitary Aide at the desk: a mousy woman, pale and tired-looking. I must seem horrific to her with my mutant eyes in plain sight, ripped clothes and bloodied hands. I don’t care.

“Do you have an appointment?”

I’m almost impressed that she manages to retain her professional façade. I ignore her and push through the inner doors.

“Wait! You can’t go in there.”

The lights in the corridor lead me to the stairwell. I climb to the second floor. To intensive care. Room two-one-three. No guard today.

Epsie’s bed is empty, the machines unplugged, wires and tubes draped over the bedhead like coiled snakes. Delta’s chair has been placed against the far wall. But the room isn’t empty. A black clad figure stands by the window. Her head is bent over a small metal object that she holds between her thumb and forefinger.

Ghent’s transmitter.

She glances up. “Daughter Wye, I wondered when you’d be making an appearance.” Her features are arranged in the same sneer I remember from our last encounter. Then it sent chills through me. Now, I have to force myself to hold still, to keep my hands by my sides.

“Interesting technology,” she remarks. “Did you help him make it?”

This is why he’s gone. Because I was stupid enough to drop the transmitter. That’s why he heard what Ma Temple said to Delta, why he’s dead. My clumsiness sealed his fate. I wish I could re-do this day. I should be punished for my carelessness. I held Ghent’s life in my hands, and I threw it away. The best way to punish myself is obvious.

I go straight for the commander, grasping for the transmitter and clawing at her face. She’s taller and stronger than me, but she doesn’t expect it. I manage to drive her to the window and hold her there, fingers wrapped around her throat before she gets her bearing and shoves me to the ground. The transmitter clatters to the floor. I reach for it, but her boot crashes down on my hand. I whimper. She grinds her heel into my hand. More pain spikes
through my fingers, but I don’t cry out. I deserve this. She lifts her foot and I think she’s going to kick me, but instead she nudges me aside with her toe as she bends to collect the transmitter. I struggle to my knees, clutching my hand to my chest.

“Now, Daughter Wye. There’s no need for this.” I’m gratified that her voice is a little shaky. Her hair is mussed, and she wipes her cheek, gaping at the blood my fingernails have drawn. I try to get my feet beneath me, but she strides over and presses me back down. “You’re fine right there,” she says. I’m waiting for her to call for back up, but she doesn’t. Instead, she collects the chair and places it in front of me. When she sits, her breath is already under control, even though I’m still winded. She runs her thumb over the transmitter before slipping it into her pocket.

“Why?” The syllable escapes on a ragged breath. I bite down on my lip to stop it from quivering.

The commander seems to be talking to herself when she says, “Neither of us got what we wanted.”

I don’t understand why she’s not more triumphant. She’s won. The
deman
is gone.

“You killed him.” The words take some effort. “He was only trying to help his mother. And you killed him.”

The corner of her mouth turns down. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You of all people.” She turns to the window, apparently losing interest in me.

I rise to my feet. She doesn’t stop me this time. Even though she’s facing me again now, it’s as if she doesn’t see me as she spits on her palm to clean the blood from her hands.

“Where are they?” I ask, pointing to the empty bed.

I don’t expect an answer so I’m surprised when I get one. “In recovery,” she says. “His birth mother survived the surgery.”

I lunge for the door, hoping to remember the location of the recovery room. I think it’s on the first floor. The commander’s voice freezes me. “At least you won’t be the one having his babies. Your bloodline is sullied enough.”

“I never wanted his
babies.
I only wanted him to be safe. As far away from us as he could get.”

Now I know the truth. She’s the real monster here. She could have stood by my mother, but she chose to reject her. She could have been loved, but she chose hatred. I hope it kills her slowly from the inside. Looking at her now, I think it might. I shut the door behind me and don’t look back.

No one approaches me as I make my way to the recovery room. I suppose I look like a patient with my messed-up hands. I keep moving to avoid unwanted attention. Through the glass wall of the recovery room, I can see several beds lined up in a row. Only one of them is occupied.

Epsie.

She’s unconscious, but she has more color than she did earlier. Delta sits beside her, brushing the hair back from her forehead and murmuring in her ear. A Protector is stationed on the other side of the bed engrossed in something on her datapad. I want to go inside, to talk to Delta. I need to know Epsie will live, that Ghent didn’t sacrifice himself for nothing. But what can I say to them? If it weren’t for me, their son would be alive. Far away from here.

And Epsie would be dead,
I remind myself.

Delta glances at the Protector and mutters something. The guard nods, turning her attention back to the datapad. Delta rises and brushes off her clothing. Collecting an empty glass from the cabinet beside the bed, she makes for the door. She looks terrible, pale skin and sunken cheeks.
This is all my fault.