The Haven: A Novel (14 page)

“But,” Abigail said, “we’re alive.
Something
makes us live. We’re not bad. We don’t hurt anyone.”

“Chickens or lambs or cows don’t hurt anyone either. But they’re all killed for food. To support the world’s Replicants
and
Recipients.”

This was too much to even think about. Kissing and videos and being worthless and having friends and all of it was too much. My brain felt swollen, like it needed to lose information to make my new world easier to understand.

“I’m tired,” I said.

Gideon nodded. “That’s part of the argument, best we can tell. We’re unnatural. And with the Tonic, we appear almost lifeless.”

“Soulless.” Abigail’s voice was a whisper, but the sound of the word stayed with me all the way back to our room and even when I put my head on my pillow and closed my eyes.

Were we even worth saving?

17

In Ms. Iverson’s class, the next day, I did what I should. Sat the way I saw everyone else sitting. Watched to see how I had been and acted like I was still normal. Or was I normal now? It was hard to know.

The whole time I listened to what was said in class, I thought.

Staring at my hands, my fingernails, the fine blond hair on my arms, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was worthless because I didn’t have a soul. What made me have value? Who gave a soul? Parents? A creator? Dr. King?

Or ourselves?

Was Dr. King our owner? The worry made my insides cool off.

Maybe it was the not knowing that gave me no worth.

Here was my truth, the Terminals’ truth, no matter if we had souls or didn’t: We were the sum of our body parts.

*   *   *

“I thought it would be hard to see what to do,” I said to Abigail at lunch. She had her head down, eating. Copying everybody like I was learning to do. There were a few whispers. Sounds of glasses being set on the wooden tabletops. And from the back, the clink of dishes being scooted away. I’d never noticed any of this before. How quiet we all were. Before we had seemed loud.

“You have to be careful,” she said after a mouthful of cold asparagus soup. “Remember, we don’t notice anything, but you’ll get it. It’s obvious. We experience nothing but fear and only when they open the doors in this room. Terminals don’t care.”

So that outburst of Gideon’s, I knew now, put them … no,
us
 … at risk. He should never have done that. He should never have reacted. He should have stayed the same, not been different.

*   *   *

I watched.

I watched from half-closed eyes or when I thought no one paid attention. I did it when we all lumbered toward a classroom. (We never hurried to get anywhere.) In the Dining Hall. (Where Terminals ate as if their lives depended on what they took into their bodies.) At night in our room. (Where Mary went to sleep as soon as she tucked herself under the covers.)

Changes kept coming at me. Like how the sun splashed through the stained-glass window. Sure, I had seen the colors before, but they were muted. Pale. Now they were so bright, they looked scoopable, like I might be able to hold the colors in my hands. Maybe even taste them. And the dark curtains. They were the color of blueberry juice with a red mixed in. A part of me wanted to lick at that color, try it.

Could someone with no soul appreciate beauty? Could they care? Could they memorize facts and
not
forget?

Did
I
care?

Yes.

And, I knew with that thought, I had cared
with
the Tonic. Not with my whole self because I hadn’t been allowed to.

I wanted to be safe. I wanted Abigail safe. All of the Terminals. I thought this as I headed for Planting Committee, where we were now transplanting for spring (that empty promise), putting vegetables in the ground, pruning. Getting our world ready to support life that would be given away.

Opening the door that led outside, a cool breeze swept over me. The ground was wet, the grass hoping to turn green.

At first I couldn’t get all the way outside. That’s how fresh the wind was. I walked into the yard shielding my eyes, the light seemed so bright. It was all so new, unfolding right before me.

I walked to the greenhouse, taking the same path I had that first day when the snow was still on the ground, the cold not bothering me now as it had before. “Be the same,” I whispered.

Head tucked.

Eyes forward.

Moving, but not that fast.

Listless.

Be the same.

He’ll
be there. Gideon.

My stomach squeezed in on itself.

The thought of lips on lips.

His lips on mine? Why would I think this?

Terminals worked around the greenhouse, weeded the old beds. I could see a few more classmates, distorted because of the Plexiglas, bent over seedlings that stretched toward the light, growing fast because of the nutrients we fed them.

I trudged toward class on the far side of campus. How had I never seen how far away the buildings were from each other? Experiencing things I knew I had experienced, but seeing them for the first time, was strange. Like déjà vu. The ground felt soft under my feet. The tires tracks of Daniel’s wheelchair had filled with water. Had it rained and I not known it? And how did Daniel get everywhere before me?

The greenhouses weren’t too far ahead now. Three long buildings, plastic skins for walls. A huge building farther back, where I had never been. As I got closer nerves made my arms itch.

Maybe there are others.
The thought surprised me.

Did other Terminals on the committee know what Gideon and Abigail and Daniel and I knew? Were there Terminals doing what we were doing? Ones we didn’t know about?

My hand went to my scar. There was pressure when I touched the wound, something I hadn’t felt since the early days after the operation.

I opened the door. The smell of dirt was so strong, I closed my eyes.

Gideon said, “You’re letting in cold air.”

“Sorry,” I said, and pulled the door to.

Gideon sat at the table, transferring tomato plants, some that had small green tomatoes on them, into bigger pots. Once we planted them—half in the greenhouse, half in the gardens—those plants would yield fruit for the rest of the year. Would he and I be here to eat it?

I hung my coat on the back of a chair and smoothed my hands down my sweats.

“You have work to do,” Gideon said. He kept his eyes on his work. His voice was flat.

“What is it?”

Where was Daniel? This was a question I couldn’t ask, because I wouldn’t have. Tricky.

“You need to move those to the shaded area of the gazebo. You’ll see where the ground has been readied. No worry of frost now. They’ll be okay. Make sure you fertilize the ground first.”

Gideon pointed to several containers of budding flowers in a red wagon. There was earth on the side of the wagon, a bit of rust, mud on the wheels. How had I missed all this before?

Maybe I missed things because I am soulless.

No. I missed things because of the Tonic.

Gideon said, “I’ll be out soon. I have to finish here.”

Where were Abigail and Daniel? Kissing somewhere?

Dragging the wagon behind me, I went outside, wind tugging at my braid that was coming loose, hand cold on the metal handle.

Don’t lift your face to the sky. Don’t glance at the sun. Don’t watch the clouds, open your mouth, and drink in the air.

Terminals existed, yes. But we didn’t what? We didn’t
live
.

Checking over my shoulder, I saw Gideon, bent over his work.

It was a long walk to the gazebo. When had I seen that light, glowing outside, not far from here? The experience was fuzzy in my memory.

A few minutes later, I knelt before the turned-over ground of the flower bed. I made holes in the soft earth. The dirt was cool on my hands.

With care, I removed a tender plant, held it to my nose. The bitter smell filled me, caught in my throat. I’d smelled this before, I just hadn’t
felt
this pleasure. My mouth moved in the beginnings of a smile and I touched my lips with chilly fingertips. No smiling. Instead, I worked with a steady rhythm, digging in the earth, adding liquid fertilizer from the gallon jug that read
COMPOST.

“Need help?”

Gideon surprised me. Had he seen me caressing the plants? He stood in front of the sun, light bursting around him. His hair moved in the wind, but I couldn’t quite see his face. I shook my head no, but he knelt across the flower bed from me, taking a tray from the wagon.

“Keep them in the shaded areas,” I said.

Gideon nodded.

“What’s the rest of the class doing?” I asked. Now that Gideon was no longer standing in front of the sun, I could see him better. His skin was smooth and freckles ran over his cheekbones. His lips were pink. I looked back at my work. I would not think of his lips. Why had I seen Ms. Iverson and Mr. Tremmel? Why had Abigail told me about kissing Daniel? Why was I this way about Gideon?

“They’re in the indoor garden. Getting vegetables in the ground. The crew’s out here working up the beds.”

We were silent. For the first time in my life, I felt uncomfortable with silence.

“We shouldn’t be talking,” Gideon said. “We never did.”

“I know.”

I pressed the weedy flower into the ground, pouring in a bit of the thick liquid compost (like the Tonic we drank?) over the roots, then packing the plant down tight. I moved to the next few holes. My fingers were cold. I pulled gloves from my apron pocket and put them on.

“I think people have run in the past,” Gideon said.

My tongue tried to slide down my throat. “Oh?”

He said, “Keep planting in case they’re watching.”

My hands trembled at the possibility. The Tonic blocked out the world and some of the nerves, but it had never stopped the shaking.

I patted the ground. “What makes you think others have tried?”

They didn’t succeed.

They failed.

We are still here.

“Clues.”

Okay.

“Like the computers in the basement? Those videos and files were there. Just for the finding. A year ago, Adam showed me that room. Plus a couple others we hide in.”

Adam? I almost remembered an Adam.

What had happened to him? Had the Illness taken him?

Gideon was silent then he said, “Do you remember way back? When we were young? The older Terminals were sort of our partners. They took care of us. Do you remember that?”

I stopped digging. The soil was so dark.

I
did
recall that time. Someone helped with my hair. An olive-skinned girl named Sarah. I closed my eyes to the memory of her gentle touch. “She was a Keeper,” I said.

It was all a blur. Faint.

Gideon kept talking. “I’m not surprised if you don’t. When they found other ways to control us, they did. They got rid of the buddy system. They washed our memories of a lot of it.”

“Why do you remember?” A breeze picked up and a chill went through me.

“Adam wouldn’t let me forget.” Gideon swallowed loud enough, I heard him. “Then one day—”

I knew what was coming. “He was gone.”

Gideon cleared his throat a couple of times. “Before Adam left, he got me off the Tonic. He told me that was part of the escape plan and showed me the different rooms.

“Later, I went looking for whatever he hid. Since then Daniel and I have been collecting data any way we can and storing it on the computers.”

“Did Adam stay for a while?” My Sarah wasn’t in my brain for long.

Gideon gave a slight nod.

“He left close to when the Whole male came for you.”

“That wasn’t that long ago, Gideon. You said so. My Keeper left when I was little.”

The plants on my side of the gazebo were in the ground. A bed of green that would change to I-didn’t-know-what color. This would look nice, all in bloom. Nice was an odd thing for me to think, but I liked the idea of what would come of my work. I brushed my gloved hands together. “I’m going back.” I grabbed the leftover pots, my tools, and put them in the wagon.

“I can walk with you,” Gideon said. “I’m done, too.”

He stood and I couldn’t help but notice how slender he was. I tugged the wagon along and it clanked as it bounced over the grass.

“Let’s you and me go tonight,” Gideon said.

“You and I.”

“Right. You and I.”

“Go where?”

“There’s a building I’ve wanted to break into for some time,” he said.

“I’m not sure. Just the two of us?” I walked with my head down, but my face felt warm even in the cold afternoon air. Gideon loped a few paces ahead.

“I can’t get Daniel in a window, and I don’t want to go through the rooms alone.”

“But…”

“I could lift you. You’re mostly whole. You could get in the window, let me in a door or help pull me up.”

“Right,” I said after a long silence.

We walked on. The sky was hurt-your-eyes blue. Or was that a normal blue and hurt only the eyes of people fresh off a Tonic? I was hyperaware of Gideon, aware of the navy color of his sweats and the lightweight jacket he wore. Aware that he wanted me to be with him tonight. That his lips were pink. That he thought I was nice to look at.

Why me? Why not Abigail? He could boost her. She might be able to help him. So could Daniel, for that matter.

There was work to be done and he needed my assistance and I would do it.

“Heart and Soul,” Gideon said as we got closer to the greenhouses.

“What do you mean?”

I wanted to reach out to him. Where had
that
feeling come from?

“Those astilbe we planted? They’re also called Heart and Soul.”

18

“Look at this,” I said to Abigail. Our room was as quiet as death. Brahms had long died out. Mary was asleep. Elizabeth’s made bed was still empty. I couldn’t look at it without a lump forming in my throat.

I had changed my clothes to go off with Gideon. Daniel and Abigail would meet us in an hour to watch a documentary. More Dr. King stuff? I wasn’t sure.