Pipe Dreams (2 page)

CHAPTER 3

I
s this what she had become,
a coward stifling all emotion save fear? Vanessa wiped her eyes and tried to concentrate on the stacks of forms blanketing the chipped surface of her desk. How could she have left the girl?

The buzzing of dull, fluorescent lights exacerbated her mood. The office was a prison. Phones didn
’t ring and email didn’t chime. Once, the speakers in the dingy, drop ceiling would have piped soft rock and oldies. Now, the pen scratch and shuffle of endless papers provided no respite from the echo of the girl’s frail voice.

At the break bell, Vanessa sighed with relief. She stopped in the restroom on the way to the cafeteria to wash her face. Holding a paper towel to her red-rimmed eyes, she stifled a sob. Under the bench, the girl lay naked and alone.

In the cafeteria, Vanessa had several empty tables from which to choose. Every week, more workers disappeared, joining the Fallen on the streets as the NSO continued to cast out them out for non-compliance. On the gray Formica table, the latest
Bulletin
lay open. She listlessly scanned the thin pages for news, finding only fluff and propaganda.  There was still no news of the outside world. 

Glancing up, she cringed. Her driver stared at her, a lascivious grin on his ape-like face.
She cast her eyes down in the usual gesture of submission, mentally inventorying her possible faults. Was her uniform un-tucked, a button undone?  Had she forgotten to do something?  The blood drained from her face. Her driver always acted on his desire.

When the bell rang again, Vanessa went back to her office. The click of her shoes on the scratched, linoleum floor was a clock meting out the seconds. The reports were endless and the day only half over. As an instrument of the
NSO, she wielded her pen with care. Complicity was one thing. Cruelty was another. The administrators used every excuse to make room for the next generation, but Vanessa would not willingly participate in the culling.

While perusing a file, a shadow darkened her desk. Her driver towered above her and she trembled.

“Mr. McCarthy? Can I help you?” she asked.

“It
’s always the same with you, Vanessa, isn’t it?” he replied.

“Beg your pardon, Sir, but I don
’t understand. Is there something I can help you with?” Under the desk, Vanessa’s thighs shook.

“Vanessa, I did not see you at prayer on Sunday.”

“Oh, but Sir, I was there. I sat next to Floyd in Appropriations. It was a fine prayer wasn’t it?  I’ve been meditating on it all week.”

“Are these the morning reports?” he asked, pointing to a neat stack of colored folders. She nodded and handed him the files. He glanced through them casually.

“Vanessa, someone saw you consorting with one of the Fallen. That is a serious violation of the mandates.”

“Sir? They were mistaken, Sir.”

“No, Vanessa. They have you on camera.”

“Camera? No. Please. It wasn
’t like that. There was an injured girl under a bench in the park on my way to work this morning. She cried out when I sat to remove a stone from my shoe. I only looked at her. I promise.”

“Vanessa, don
’t lie to me. How dare you question the watchers! Or question me!”  She shook her head rapidly.

“I
’m not lying. I swear.”

“You know there are consequences, even for uppity ex-assistants like you. You keep pulling shit like this, you
’re going to end up like them. How would that be, Vanessa? Starving, cold, wandering the streets day and night? I don’t even want to guess what the callers would do to you. And I hear there are cannibals. You’ve got more meat on your bones than anyone on the streets. What do you think? Is that where you want to be? Out there with the Fallen?” the driver sneered.

“No! I
’m sorry. It was a mistake. Please, I won’t do it again.” He stepped closer, his voice slick as he reached down to caress the line of her jaw. She recoiled, but he just smiled. They had been here so many times he did not bother to prolong the dance. Power was still the real currency and workers had none.

“Vanessa, are you ready to trade?” Underneath heavy eyebrows, his dark eyes glimmered. A small noise escaped her, but he wanted more. Licking his lips, he thrilled to her terror. Remembering the girl beneath the bench, Vanessa went cold.

“No, Sir. I can’t. Not today.”  She stood. The driver slapped her face and she fell back into her chair. He leaned over, cupped her chin with his hairy paw, and grinned.

“Vanessa,” he said. “Don
’t be stupid. Get up and lock the door.”

CHAPTER 4

In an abandoned storefront across
from the bus stop, Jeremy waited. The setting sun gave the dirty, gray concrete and weathered brick a golden hue. His favorite time of day, twilight promised respite. He shifted his weight and scratched a bug bite on his elbow. Vanessa Kovalic hadn’t taken the bait this morning, but that didn’t mean the trap had failed. If she returned to the bench this evening, he could approach her, but she had to come voluntarily, or not at all.

The bright, yellow school bus pulled to a stop near his shadowy alcove. Descending the stairs, the workers all looked the same. Women and girls wore their hair in neat buns. Men and boys had buzz cuts. Everyone dressed in identical, navy jumpsuits. Grateful for his own garb, Jeremy stuck his hands in his pockets. Though worn, the soft jeans, cotton tee shirt, and sturdy jacket suited him.

Eventually he spotted Vanessa in the crowd. She merged with two others into a small cluster. Together, they walked toward the park. Jeremy followed, sticking close to the buildings. Under the graceful arch, the small silhouettes paused in deepening shadows. He inched closer. Two of them took a left, leaving Vanessa behind, and his heartbeat accelerated. She hesitated, unmoving. When she turned and walked stiffly after the others, he swore.

Stepping off the curb, Jeremy crossed the street and hurried toward the bushes that edged the park
’s wrought iron fence. Dry leaves crackled under his feet when he picked up the pace. As he arrived at the park’s west entrance, Vanessa climbed the steps to an old, two-story Brownstone. She glanced behind her and then disappeared into the stairwell.

  Jeremy hunched down between the bushes, but the cramped space didn
’t provide adequate cover. Wriggling to get comfortable in the dirt, he lay on his stomach and supported his head with his hands. The tangy aroma of earth and foliage promised hope. Unlike the decaying buildings and cracked concrete, what died here would be reborn. He inhaled deeply and resigned himself to waiting.

Vanessa didn
’t visit the Brownstone often. The NSO frowned upon unsupervised activity, proclaiming it invited sin. Jeremy spat at the hypocrisy. He had spied on the mating games the NSO encouraged. Hunched old men and teenage boys lusted after young virgins in silly games of Duck, Duck, Goose, their eager eyes blazing as the girls chased each other around the circle. The memory sickened him. Then again, so did the NSO’s treatment of single, mature women. Beyond the jobs they performed, women like Vanessa were meat. Their bodies fed the insatiable appetites of the men who drove them.

Jeremy shifted uneasily. As blue twilight descended, he pulled a cloth-wrapped package from his pocket and opened it, his stomach rumbling. The cold rat was gamey and tough, but he devoured it. When only tiny bones were left, he flung them into the bushes
, wiped his mouth, and took a swig from his water bottle.

Dark crept over the city, drowning the buildings, trees, and streets in indigo and black. Jeremy glanced nervously at the Brownstone. He didn
’t relish being out late, alone. When the door finally opened, Vanessa scanned both directions before stepping onto the sidewalk. Walking up the street, she held her head high. These visits gave her strength and Jeremy whispered a small thanks to the lighted window on the second floor. He wished she had gone back to the park, but didn’t begrudge her this small comfort. Straightening from his cramped position, he trailed her until she reached her building. Then he turned toward home, following his trap line through the park.

The first three were empty, but a healthy squirrel was in the fourth. He bent to release the trap, pulled the limp body free of the jaws, and wrapped it in the paper from his dinner. Stuffing it in his pocket, he moved to the next one. As he came upon it, he stiffened. A man was kneeling in front of it
feverishly working the snare. Jeremy took two long strides, grabbed the man's collar, and jerked him back so he landed with a thud in the dirt.

“My territory, asshole,” he said. The man stood and raised his arms, not wishing to fight. As he did, Jeremy caught a glimpse of his wraith-thin body.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean nothing. Just hungry, is all.”

“Get out of here and don
’t come back. I catch you at in my neighborhood again, I won’t be so easy. Understand?” The man nodded and backed away. As he took off running, Jeremy swallowed the lump in his throat. Once, he might have been willing to share the catch. Now, the numbers of the Fallen were increasing and there wasn’t enough food. Without surplus stores, winter would be merciless. He glanced around, looking for more intruders, but there were none. Nevertheless, he would have to put more callers in the park. Michael was right. Scaring away the hordes was the only way to remain safe.

At the Gate, Jeremy gave a low whistle. When it was returned, he checked the alley again before wedging his body inside the narrow crack. The tunnel was completely dark. It slanted downward and made several turns before leveling. A series of steel doors opened into closets, rooms, and different passageways. The cell members had taken a long time to memorize the route because, at his insistence, the tunnel was never lit.

Stepping into the vast basement, Jeremy heaved a contented sigh. The smooth, concrete walls were windowless. Steel beams and fluorescent lights ran across the ceiling. When illuminated, the basement was bright as day.

He waved at the people gathered around the long, stainless steel counter in the kitchen to his left and looked with longing toward the closed curtains at the back of the living room. Behind them lay his private quarters and the comfort of his bed.

Scanning the room for Ashley, his eyes softened as he took in the heavy shelves in the library. Made from cinderblocks and wooden planks, they formed three substantial walls filled with books in every genre and category. Armchairs, reading lamps, and a rectangular coffee table made of rich, dark wood complimented oriental style rugs colored in reds, blues, and greens. In the children’s section, bright cushions were scattered between baskets filled with storybooks.

Ashley was curled on her favorite couch, her body tiny against the oversized cushions. He approached and tenderly stroked her long, blond hair.

“Rough day, huh?” he asked. She didn’t reply.

“Come on, girl. Get past it.” 

“Just leave me alone, Jeremy.”

“Can
’t we talk?”

Her
eyes snapped open and she glared at him. “No. There’s nothing to talk about. Aren’t you the one who told me I needed to learn to shut my mouth?”

Jeremy pursed his lips and straightened his shoulders. Without another word, he turned and went back to the tunnel. There was one more thing to do before he could rest for the night. With a hand trailing the wall to his left, he counted doors until he reached the one he wanted. When it opened, a cool light illuminated the blackness and the smell of warm, wet soil filled his nostrils. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he prayed, the success of this room would be his prayer.

Long, rectangular boxes, lined with plastic and filled with dirt, covered the floor in rows. Soft, white lights hung from the ceiling above them. Michael bent over a box where tender leaves uncurled on tiny, green seedlings. Jeremy smiled as Michael’s fingers moved nimbly in the dirt, carefully thinning them.

“Think they
’ll make it this time?” Jeremy asked.

“They
’re lookin’ good so far.”  Michael replied.

Across the aisle, Mariah worked with squash and potatoes. Jon bent over the salad garden where lettuce, spinach, chard, and kale grew in a lush riot of green. After losing the first crops to their inexperience, they had read everything they could find on gardening, grow lights, and vegetables. They couldn
’t afford any more mistakes.

Walking the rows, Jeremy bent his long, narrow frame to avoid the low hanging lights as he documented the crops. Then he inspected the bins that held
the organic seed packets, fertilizer, and spare parts for the drip irrigation system. If the mice got to them, they wouldn’t have another chance. Finally, he checked the thermostats and returned to the basement.

It was a bounty. Mariah had led them to it. Before the rebellion changed everything,
she had been putting herself through school and raising her daughter on her own. Needing extra cash, she had become a small time dealer. Through an acquaintance, she had met Charlie and, when they fell in love, he had shared his sanctuary – a giant, underground facility for growing marijuana inside the city. The basement was a fortress of solitude. City Hall didn’t have the plans. Power and water companies didn’t know it existed. Illegal and secret taps into the city mains fueled the enterprise.

The tunnel was the result of Charlie
’s elaborate design. Since the cell had destroyed the freight elevator, there was no other entrance, unless you counted the escape tunnel that opened into an old branch off the sewer main that few knew still existed. The entrance to that tunnel was closed and locked now. Jeremy had the only key. After Charlie was killed in the second purge, Mariah had brought the cell here. It had become home.