Shymers (20 page)

Men and women mill about the building with definite purpose, not even bothering to stare at the two sweaty Shymers among them. They are each dressed in the same long sleeves and pants of a dark material that nearly cover every part of their skin. Metal pins with some kind of metal object hanging down cover the place above their hearts. Some of them are wearing pointed little hats. The temperature in the building probably cooler just to keep everyone from overheating in their heavy-looking uniforms.

“Looks to me like you really don’t fit in here,” I tell Zeke under my breath. “Do you think your father will be pleased to see you?”

“C’mon,” he barks, his fingers digging painfully into my arm.

Stumbling forward, I try to think of a way to get myself out of this mess. Facing Zeke’s father could be the end of all hope.

We approach a row of identical metal doors. Behind them are large metal boxes that rise and fall above our heads. When I realize Zeke intends to place me inside one, I plant my feet as best as I can. Is this suspension? Is he able to unceremoniously throw me inside and lock me in? Is this how it works?

Zeke glares down on me, frustrated. Then a sudden recognition crosses his face and his eyes roll to the ceiling. “I almost forgot you were raised in the wild. They’re calle
d
elevator
s
. They take us higher up in the building so we don’t have to walk up the stairs.”

A tall man enters one, and the door closes behind him. I watch the box as it moves higher into the air. A few doors down, two women emerge from one of the boxes, laughing together. By the willingness of these Futures to enter, maybe the
y
ar
e
as innocent as Zeke claims them to be. I finally decide it’s safe and allow him to lead me inside.

After Zeke pushes a numbered button on a panel, the metal door slowly closes. Between the metal walls and the heavy door shutting behind us, the air feels limited. My breathing becomes labored and tight. Small spaces have always terrified me.

Just as I begin to worry we will suffocate, the box moves up and my stomach slams down. The strange sensation of the moving box and the threat of what will lie behind the metal door when it opens again are terrifying. I clutch the metal bar attached to the wall and look at Zeke with wide eyes.

He watches on with amusement. “Only a few people have died in one of these. You would know if your time was up, right?”

“No,
I
wouldn’
t
know,” I assure him.

His eyes narrow. “Wha
t
wa
s
that little mix-up down there about you being a Future, anyway?”

“When the soldiers took my mother away, they told me I was a Future. Even the director at the orphanage knows I’m a Future.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he scoffs. “Why would your parents have taken you into hiding if you were a Future? Why would you have th
e
mar
k
?”

I shrug. “Maybe they didn’t want me living this kind of life, regardless of what I am.”

It’s the first time I have been able to come up with my own excuse, although it still doesn’t explain the mark. Just the fact that my parents never told me I had such a thing, or even ever mentioned the existence of the marks feels like a betrayal. I try to push the bad feelings aside that continue to creep into my subconscious. My parents must have had their reasons for not telling me these things.

Zeke shakes his head. “It has to be a mistake made by the scanners. They wouldn’t have given a Future the death mark as an infant.”

Crossing my arms in front of me, I glare back at him. “Have you considered what will happen if you’re wrong? What do you think your father will say? Do you think he will be pleased that you, as a Shymer, tried to stop a Future and questioned her status?”

Zeke’s eyes grow wide. He hasn’t thought of this. His fingers on my arm shift nervously and his breathing quickens. He anxiously watches the numbers above the metal door flipping by.

“What do you think he’ll say, Zeke?” I ask again.

His other hand reaches out to the panel of buttons, his pointer finger hovering over them, shaking uncontrollably.

“You better think real hard,” I say, my voice hard.

His finger darts out to push a button and the box jolts to a stop. We both stumble for a moment, jarred by the movement. He turns to stare at me. Beneath the greasy dark hair, tears fill his eyes. “All I ever wanted was my father’s approval. But I’ve tried everything. There isn’t much time left. I don’t know what else to do.”

Smiling, I place my hand over his arm. “That is exactly why I can’t stay here any longer. Your father never should have abandoned you the way he did. Just think of all the years you could have had together before your DOD. Just because your life is shorter than his doesn’t mean it’s any less meaningful, Zeke. Society i
s
wron
g
. It’s just like back in the old world, when people were judged on the color of their skin, or who they wanted to marry. If you come away with us, you won’t have to live your final days in suspension. We can leave this horrible place, and maybe even work on your playlist.”

“Society isn’
t
wron
g
,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Yes i
t
i
s
,” I insist. “You’re a good person, Zeke. I understand you want to know your father’s love. But this isn’t the way.”

“I don’t have a playlist,” he mutters as tears roll down his face. His grip on my arm is lighter. He squeezes gently when the sorrow of his situation overtakes him in waves.

I smile brightly. “You can still make one. I’m sure there are things you have thought of that you have always wanted to do or see. You said yourself you don’t have long before your DOD. In the Free Lands you won’t be able to do all of them, but you’ll be free to do what you want. Wouldn’t you like to reall
y
liv
e
life these last few days and do things how you want and when you want, without other people telling you you’re not worth it?”

His lips shake. He finally nods with more tears splashing from his eyes down onto his shirt.

I step forward. “Come with me, Zeke. Your life is worth something. Come see how beautiful living can be.”

His hand drops from my arm.

* * *

As we re-enter the lobby, people seem to notice us this time. Maybe it’s because Zeke’s eyes and face are red from crying, although his hair obscures a good portion of them. Maybe it’s because I’m biting my lips to keep from grinning with the relief that we’r
e
no
t
going to see Zeke’s father. Whatever the reason for the unwanted attention, it makes me uneasy.

We come upon a small hallway near the entrance where there is a set of lavatories. I push on Zeke to get him to turn into it with me. “I need to ask you a favor.”

My once-captor, now-possible-friend nods.

I lean closer. “I need to see if there is any way I can visit my mother before we leave. What if you told that soldier over there that your father ordered you to take me there? Maybe he could get us some kind of clearance to enter the facility without raising too much suspicion.”

Glancing down the hallway, Zeke sighs. “I don’t know. What if they check with my father to see if we’re telling the truth? I don’t think many people are allowed to stop by suspension fo
r
visiting hou
r
. It sounds too dangerous.”

“But it might work, right? If you walk over to him and act demanding about it, he’ll have to listen. He knows you’re the commander’s son. If he becomes too suspicious then we just run like hell.”

His face morphs into a funny little expression when he pulls his head back. “What doe
s
tha
t
mean?”

Sometimes I forget when I use the sayings my parents would utter from the old world. People in Society must not be familiar with them. I huff in amusement. “It means we run for our lives and don’t look back.”

“Oh,” he says, nodding, although his eyes are still puzzled.

I squeeze his arm. “You ca
n
d
o
this, Zeke. Attitude is everything.”

“What doe
s
tha
t
mean?” he asks, giving me the same strange look.

Apparently Harrison’s family had been big on sayings from the old world as well. “It means we go over there, and you order that soldier to let you take me. Now take me by the arm again and pretend you really mean it.”

I wince when his fingers grip my already tender arm. Even though my body temperature is finally returning to normal from being in the cold air for so long, I am still somewhat overheated and Zeke’s sweating hand feels cool. We take long strides back in the direction of the soldier.

I think of terribly sad thoughts ranging from never seeing my mother again, to never being able to show Harrison the good things in life or even him dying all alone. By the time we approach the soldier again, I am crying real tears.

“My father ordered me to take her over to the suspension facility to clear things up,” Zeke tells him. His voice is too stiff and monotone. I lightly press my elbow to his rib cage. “He said you were to give me clearance.”

The soldier’s eyes narrow. “You sure weren’t up there very long.”

Zeke huffs impatiently. “He realized she was a Shymer and somehow had her registry altered to make her appear to be a Future. He told me to take her over there at once. Would you like me to go back up and tell him you won’t comply with his orders?”

As the soldier considers this, you can almost see his brain trying to work. In all reality, he wouldn’t normally take orders from a Shymer, but the threat of Zeke’s important father seems to be enough. The soldier shifts his weight and sighs loudly before punching something into the scanner. He runs it along my eyes, then Zeke’s. “Go on then.”

A whimper escapes my lips before I realize I’ve made it.

I’m going to see my mother.

Maybe.

Luckily, the sound is considered to be a sad sob by the soldier—he actually beams proudly at Zeke, as if to say, “Way to go.”

This man is a stranger to me. He doesn’t know a single thing about me. Why would he want to see me locked up? Sadly, I am understanding even more what it means to be a Shymer in this mixed up place. I hope a day will come when these people all realize they have no right judging people by something beyond their own control.

Zeke leads us back out of the building. The temperature of the late afternoon has dropped a little with darkness fast approaching, although the stuffiness of the air still fills my lungs, dank and heavy. I blow out in relief. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Glancing across the street again, I hope to see Tayrn, but there is still no sign of her. If we are able to breeze into the suspension facility and see my mother as easily as I hope, there may still be time to meet with Tayrn and Harrison before they leave for the Free Lands
.
I
f
I can find them. Not knowing my way around in Society makes that a pretty bi
g
i
f
.

Zeke’s eyes fall on the fortress behind us. “Are you really sure you want to go there? I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as you think, Olive. There will be more tha
n
on
e
guard keeping watch. There are video cameras and scanners monitoring the place. They don’t like to let the public in and out. What if I can’t get you back out?”

I bite on my lip. Zeke is close to his DOD. What if they see through our loosely designed plan and decide to suspend him earlier? I am not worried about my own future as much as I am his. Either way, I may find my mother, but Zeke had shown mercy in not taking me to see his father. I can’t risk something going wrong for him. No one deserves to spend their final day locked up, all alone.

“Zeke, I understand if you don’t want to go with me. I can try to think of some other way to get myself in. That soldier gave me clearance, which is a pretty good start.”

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “He would have registered you as being suspended, Olive. What happens when they lock you away, and you can’t get back out?”

My elevated nerves begin to get the best of me. I fidget with my hands. “I’m registered as a Future. I could say this was some kind of elaborate prank a bunch of us came up with, like we dared each other to see how far inside we could get.”

Zeke shakes his head in jerky movements. “No way. They would never fall for something like that. The government takes things very seriously.”

“Whatever happens, I’ll do it alone. I’m not going to risk your freedom, Zeke. You don’t deserve to spend the rest of your life locked up, whether in the orphanage or here. You should go find Harrison and not worry about me. I’ve gotten this far, I can do this. I will.”