Renegade (6 page)

“Why would I?
Sacrifices must be made for the greater good
.”

“O-kay—” he drags out the “O” sound. “So. You get a designation and then someone pays you?”

“Yes. Mother.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “Your mother pays everyone? Wow, she must have a money tree.”

I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “I’m not an idiot. There’s no such thing as a money tree.”

He chuckles. “It’s just an expression. Sorry.”

I’m not completely convinced, but I continue. “Mother is the Governess. She compensates everyone by his or her designation. We’re allotted quarters, a certain amount of food, and credits to spend based on that and whether we have a family or not.”

“If you’re given food and shelter, why do you need money—credits?”

I sigh. “For the extra things. Like clothing, amusements, the Bazaar where the Artisans sell their wares. Not everyone is given money by the Governess, you know.” I think he may feel more comfortable if I can use his language. “Like you said, she doesn’t have a money tree.” The corner of my mouth tilts up in a half smile.

He returns it. “Okay, so who isn’t compensated and why not?”

“Well, just the Artisans really, because they sell their wares and earn money that way. Mother says they create more beautiful things when they have to worry where their cred— money is going to come from. Otherwise … I guess we’re not so different from you. We trade our services for the things that keep us alive. And you hunt and trade the meat and skins for other things.”

“Yes.”

Not so different. The opposite of what Mother always says. We look at each other. But something else is bothering me. Something that
is
different. “And for … fun?” I ask.

He nods and his eyes glaze as if remembering something from long ago. “Yes. Sometimes my brother—he’s the one who usually hunts with me—we make a game to see who can get the most kills.”

With a surprised gasp, I place my hand over my mouth. The mortar slaps onto the concrete floor.

Gavin glances over, confused.

“That’s horrible. You’re killing all those animals for
fun
?” I look away from him, pick up the mortar, and go back to the paste, but I don’t do anything with it. I just sit with it in my lap. I look back up at his face and shake my head. “Mother
is
right. You are a bunch of barbarians.” This is why I shouldn’t be helping him, but I find myself still mixing the herbs together to make a paste. As repulsive as I find this behavior, it’s also fascinating.

He leans forward. “Yeah, so what? You have assassins. Now that’s barbaric.” He looks relaxed, but there’s a tension to his body that wasn’t there before. As if he’s preparing for a fight.

“They’re not assassins, they’re Enforcers! There’s a huge difference between killing for fun and killing to protect peace.”

Gavin rests his hands on the floor between us so he’s eye level with me. I squirm, but he ignores me. “How is it better to murder human beings just for breaking some rules? At least we use everything the animal offers, even if we make a game out of it.”

I grip the mortar tightly between my fingers. So tightly, it’s a wonder it doesn’t crack. “But we must keep the peace,” I spit out.
“Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”

His eyes flash. “And some sacrifices must be made so we can eat and live!”

Seething, I take the paste and smear it on his back. He grunts, and I have to force myself to apply it more gently. I refuse to say anything to him, but part of me realizes there is a certain truth to what he is saying.

We kill to maintain our way of life. They kill to remain living. Which is more barbaric? I have to admit it’s probably us. At least they eat the things they kill and make use of the creature. What do we do? Turn the bodies into ash.

This is not what I expected to learn. But it gives me plenty to think about.

When his back is completely covered in the medicinal paste, I pack my things and then glance at the Guards. The Enforcer is gone. While I’m relieved, I have to wonder why she was here in the first place. If it wasn’t to help the Guards, what was the real purpose? I move so my body blocks Gavin’s from the cameras.
You can never be too careful. It is better to err on the side of caution.
Mother taught me that.

I hand him the second first-aid kit and lean down to whisper in his ear. I am confident my position looks like I am surveying the work I’ve done on his back. He jumps a little when he hears my voice.

“This is filled with nonperishable food. It’s not the best, but it’s all I could get without Mother noticing,” I say. I move to leave, but he grabs my hand. Little tingles zing up my nerve endings and cause a fluttering in my stomach. I snatch my hand away as panic swirls through my body, causing my heart to hammer in my chest.
Touching between unCoupled people is forbidden.

This must be why unCoupled people shouldn’t touch each other. It feels funny. And yet, it’s slightly familiar. I’m not sure why. Even when one of my previous Suitors accidentally touched me, it hadn’t felt like this.

“Are you breaking the law by giving me this stuff?” His voice is soft, but I’m sure it’s only because he doesn’t want me to get in trouble. If I die, there will be no one to help him further. He doesn’t seem like a stupid person, even if he is a Surface Dweller.

I stuff my items back into the little pack I brought them in, trying to ignore the tiny flutters still tickling my stomach. “No, but I do not suppose Mother would be pleased, either.”

His eyes move to meet mine. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. You could have left me here, as sick as I was. I probably would’ve given you the answers you needed, eventually.”

“I know.” I pause for a second, then decide to finish my sentence. “I want to help you.”

He watches me carefully. “Why?”

I take a deep breath. Why
am
I helping him? Charity doesn’t extend to Surface Dwellers, does it? “I don’t really know. I just … want to.”

Before he can reply, the door to the cell opens and a Guard gestures me over. Mother is waiting. Her presence can mean nothing good. She’d never risk a walk by the turrets.

Before turning back to Gavin, I make sure any trace of fear is erased. I don’t want him to know anything is wrong. “I guess my time is up. I will be back when I can.”

He nods, but there is disappointment in his eyes.

I step out and carefully close the door behind me, taking the time to calm myself before turning to face Mother.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

We are all Mother’s children. It is a privilege to show her our ultimate obedience to her laws.

—ENGRAVED ON A PILLAR IN THE
S
QUARE,
S
ECTOR
T
WO

Mother stands before me, or rather her hologram does. I can see now what I hadn’t been able to see from the cell: the wavy lines of the projection and the concrete wall behind her semitransparent body. She hadn’t risked a walk by the turrets after all. This should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.

She has eyes only for me. And those eyes are filled with a rage I’ve never seen before.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes bore into mine, as if she can see all my secrets. Her voice is tinny and echoes around the room.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I struggle to keep my eyes on hers and not squirm under the scrutiny of her stare.

“Why are you treating his injuries? You are supposed to be getting information.”

“I am, Mother. B-but he was very sick. He couldn’t answer. Besides, I needed to regain his confidence. He didn’t trust me after the Guards beat him.”

She only asks, “What did he tell you?”

Obviously that bit of information didn’t have the effect I’d hoped for and again I struggle to keep my eyes focused on hers. I’m about to smudge the truth and it will be disastrous if she senses I’m lying. She’ll never forgive me. Again I question why I’m even helping him, but I can’t answer myself.

“Only that he came through one of the emergency exits.”

She narrows her eyes and then turns her head. Unable to stop myself, I follow her gaze. She’s focused on Gavin, who glares at her.

“Does he remember how to get there?” she asks. Her eyes are blank now. None of the anger I’d seen previously is visible. No emotions are. It’s worse than if she was angry.

I swallow quickly, which is almost impossible, because my mouth has turned to sand. “No,” I finally manage to say. “He said everything was a blur after his friend set off the DNA camera.” I have no idea if he does or not, but any other answer puts him at risk.

“Turret,” she corrects me. “The other one set off a turret.” She continues to study Gavin. “Is that all you’ve gotten from him?”

“Yes. He’s not very lucid between his infection and the medicines I had to give him.”

Mother purses her lips. “It is of the utmost urgency we get answers from him. There comes a point where the danger he presents outweighs the import of his answers. If he was able to get in, others may do the same. Besides, I don’t want my one and only daughter hurt.” She smiles at me and I relax. “Surface Dwellers are manipulative, and you are so naïve.” She waves me off, her attention focused back on Gavin. “Your Therapist is waiting for you.”

I hurry away, breathing a quick sigh of relief, but I don’t even dare look at Gavin as I leave. I just have to hope Mother doesn’t take it upon herself to start where I left off.

*   *   *

Guards flank me as I make my way toward Dr. Friar’s office in Sector Six—the Medical Sector. If I wasn’t with my Guards, I’d stop and chitchat with several of the shopkeepers who are scattered around in organized chaos in Sector Two along the Bazaar, or the Square.

Like all the other Sectors, Sector Two is in its own building, connected to the other Sectors by glass tube hallways. Sector Two itself is the largest of our Sectors, with the Square being its largest part. Although it’s only one floor, it’s several stories tall. The domed ceiling and three of the walls are entirely made of glass so the ocean is visible at all times—just like in my gardens. Mother says the Square was designed to replicate what the Surface city streets used to look like before the War, complete with alleys and dead ends. While it looks like there’s no pattern to any of it, Mother has arranged the shops to make it easier for people to get from one side to the other and get what they require quickly. There are also areas next to trees and the central fountain for recreation, like picnics or birthday parties and such.

When not working, Citizens are allowed to do whatever they wish—as long as they don’t violate the law. The Enforcers make sure of that. I know from Mother’s teaching that there are only two-dozen Enforcers to police the two thousand Citizens, but they have the eerie ability to appear at a moment’s notice, so they seem to be everywhere. Even as the Daughter of the People, I can’t be sure how many are watching me now.

Today the Square seems busier than usual, which makes sense since tomorrow is Festival, the day we celebrate the city’s founding. The Citizens are already preparing. I want to join them, but sadly, my Guards are accompanying me and I have no time for niceties. I continue through the Square without making eye contact with anyone, but despite that, the Citizens bow as I pass.

Just past the sushi bar, I turn right and walk through the tubular glass walkway that leads to the reception area of the Medical Sector.

I’ve always thought Dr. Friar’s receptionist is one of our prettier women. Even though all Citizens have blond hair and blue eyes, there is something exceptional about her—
though not as exceptional as Mother, of course.
I smile my thanks as she waves me through to Dr. Friar’s office.

I pause at his door and wonder, as I always do, why he chooses to have his office in a room without any windows. Surely, if he wanted it, he could just ask Mother. Given his position, she’d grant him anything he wanted.

Dr. Friar is waiting for me with his customary smile: one that both soothes and makes my hackles rise. I’m never sure why I have such strong, yet opposing, feelings about him. Today, however, I notice his teeth are stained a rust color. I know it’s only something he ate, but it gives me an uncomfortable feeling. He’s wearing his normal attire of a dove gray business suit with a bright white button-down shirt and maroon tie, his thinning blond hair smoothed back. His watery blue eyes are surrounded by thin lines, as is his thin mouth, probably because he smiles so much.

He’s sitting behind his rosewood, double pedestal desk, which has a glass piece over the top of the desk surface. It always looks precisely the same—a stapler, pen holder, intercom telephone, Slate, and dark brown leather blotter placed just perfectly. His clasped hands rest on the blotter.

“Well, now, Evelyn, are you prepared for our session today?” He gestures for me to sit.

I sit in the leather wingback chair in front of his desk. “Yes.
It’s nice to have someone to talk with
.”

Dr. Friar’s smile widens. He’s obviously pleased with me. “Very good. Do you know why Mother has asked for you to visit today?”

“No.”

He nods as if this is what he’s expecting, then stands and goes to a cabinet on the sidewall. It’s painted to resemble the weathered wood of the room’s walls, making it appear as if it’s only a set of built-in bookshelves instead of a freestanding cabinet. He opens a drawer and pulls a metal box from it before returning to sit on the corner of the desk.

“Mother tells me you’ve been tending to the Surface Dweller,” he says.

I eye the box. It is familiar to me, but I can’t quite place it. “Yes. He was quite sick.”