The Killing Jar (14 page)

Mable spun away from him. “I’m not going back there!”

“Well you can’t stay in the corridor. My office is upstairs.” This time, Arrenstein didn’t wait. He turned his back to her and started walking.

Mable had no choice but to follow as he entered the elevator and brought them to the third floor. Arrenstein chose the open door on the left, an office with a large black couch, metal desk, and walls covered in preserved insects. He had everything from massive, vibrant butterflies to row upon row of beetle bodies. On the desk, his tablet holograph still hovered with some sort of spreadsheet.

He’d left in a hurry.

After she entered the room, Arrenstein closed the door but didn’t latch it. Mable was suddenly aware how bare she was, alone in his office, alone with the monster.

“What is this?” she asked again.

“Just sit down.” He motioned to the black leather couch as he fetched a suit jacket hanging on a hook by the door.

Once she was seated, he tossed her the jacket. Mable pulled her knees to her chest and hid her body beneath it, eager to be as concealed as possible.

“Answer me,” she insisted.

Arrenstein poured himself a drink before collapsing into the large, official-type chair in front of the desk. “Part of our program is being invisible. When you go out on assignments, we have to know you won’t be captured. You can’t have any distinguishing marks. No birthmarks. No scars. No tattoos.”

“I can cover them up.”

“Not good enough. You’ll have an alias. Your safety will depend on making people believe you’re someone else. We’ve tried it your way before. It didn’t work. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but it does.”

It made sense, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She could feel her anger subsiding, or maybe it was the faded memory of the pain. “You could have just asked,” she said.

“Does it matter? To be in this program, you can’t have tattoos. They have to be removed. It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference if you like it or not.”

Mable’s heart pounded in sudden fear. There were some—one in particular—she would never remove. “What if I don’t want to get rid of them?” She tried to keep her voice even.

“You have to.”

“All of them? Can’t I keep a few?” Mable hid her mouth under the jacket waiting for his answer.

“No.”

Mable closed her eyes and thought. What was she willing to risk more? Could she let them remove her tattoos? Could she risk Hadley’s safety?

She opened her eyes and stood, laying the jacket over the arm of the couch. “Then I quit.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“I can get out. You know I can.”

“What about your friend? I can find her.”

“I know. But I think I can get there first. Take her somewhere you can’t find us.”

Arrenstein sat up in his chair and leaned his arms on his desk. His eyes narrowed as he asked, “What’s so important? Why are you willing to risk her now when you wouldn’t before?”

Mable’s heart pounded so loud in her chest she could barely hear her own voice over it. “There are some things I’m willing to do, things I’m willing to give up. Most of these tattoos can go. I can get new ones. But there’s one I want to keep. One I will keep. And I’m not willing to compromise. So I’m leaving.”

Then she turned to go. She was going to do it.

But then he asked, “Which one?”

“Like you said, it doesn’t matter.”

Arrenstein sighed. “I’ll consider letting you keep one. Only one, if you can keep it hidden.”

Then she knew she had him. Mable lifted her left arm to reveal the tattoo across her ribs, no larger than the palm of her hand.

“That one? A sun?”

“Yeah. I can keep it?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you stay, then fine. But you’re putting yourself at risk. If you ever got caught, I couldn’t protect you. I hope it’s worth it.”

“It is.” She stepped into the hallway, but returned to his office a moment later. “Thank you.” He’d done her a favor, for reasons she didn’t understand.

Arrenstein only nodded. “Take that jacket.”

Mable ignored him. She returned to the hallway and started walking, only to hear, “And no more punching people!” from his office. In the empty corridor, she let herself smile.

She had won this one small battle. Maybe it wouldn’t be the prison sentence she imagined.

The elevator brought her back to the first floor, the doors opened to reveal Osip and another guy walking toward her. They were about as opposite as two people could be. Osip was short where the other was tall, fair where the other was dark. He still wore the body suit that marked him as Scholar, though she would have known without it. He reeked of Scholar. She found his conformity grotesque.

The way he walked, the way he held his shoulders proud, as if he’d earned them. The way his eyes scanned up and down her body as if he had the right.

Too late she remembered her lack of clothing. She wouldn’t cover herself for them, wouldn’t let them make her feel ashamed.

“Whoa, nice tats Mable,” Osip said with eyes that traced over her whole body. His Scholar friend was even worse, making no attempt to hide his shock. His grey eyes bored straight through her. She felt disgusting, like a trophy animal hanging on the wall.

When she was close enough to the pair, she cocked her arm back and slapped one and then the other, then headed back to cleaning to have the rest of her tattoos removed. All but one.

CPI CORRIDOR, NEW YORK, NORTH AMERICA

AUGUST 9, 2232

A hand held his stinging cheek as he watched the girl walk down the hall and disappear through a set of doors as if she owned the place.

“Hey man, I’m sorry. That was totally my fault. I shouldn’t have even said anything.”

“Who was that?” Theo asked. He’d never seen anyone like her. Half-naked, tattooed, violent, stunningly beautiful in a criminal sort of way.

Then again, Theo was the only murderer here.

Over and over again he saw flashes of the boy. The thud repeated in his head until it was all he could hear.

It was an accident, he told himself. I’m not a killer.

But he didn’t really believe it. He was responsible for taking the life of a child.

It ate at him like a parasite.

“Her name’s Mable, but she’s pretty much a cactus. Oh well, come on.” Osip shrugged and led him down the corridor.

Theo bit back his anger. No one had ever dared strike him before. He may deserve nothing but pain for the rest of his life, but not from her. She didn’t even know him.

The day had been the worst of his life even before he encountered the human cactus known as Mable.

Theo could still feel the boy’s blood on his hands, the way the fluid made his body suit stick to his torso where it soaked through. He could hear the screams of the mother that found him in the street clutching the boy’s body.

He walked down the hall behind Osip and tried to forget, to wash it all away and pretend it hadn’t happened.

His arrival at the facility was supposed to be his fresh start. It wasn’t a prison nation after all. Not ten seconds in the door and he’d been assaulted.

So much for his fresh start.

“Jane usually gives the tours but Dasia just got out of cleaning so I think they’re hanging out.”

A series of violent screams reverberated down the corridor, shrieks of pain and horror. Theo shot Osip a weary look, but he pretended like he didn’t hear it, though he obviously could.

He froze in his steps and his eyes widened before he recovered.

“What is that?” Theo asked when it became clear Osip wasn’t going to offer up an explanation.

“Oh, Mable’s in cleaning. Sometimes they scream like that. I don’t know why. I thought it was nice. Like a massage.”

“Do I have to do that?”

“Yeah, everyone does. You hungry?” Osip turned and walked backward as he spoke.

“Yeah, starving actually.” If anything, he was intent on getting away from the sounds that made his blood pressure jump.

“Great. Knox is our resident chef. He’s the best. Seriously, best food of your life.” Theo doubted it. Nutritional provisions would suffice.

They turned down another featureless hallway and found a series of metal tables spread out, much like the café at Lanc Central. Theo headed toward one of the tables in the middle when Osip stopped him.

“No one really uses this side. There’s a big table around the side here.” The walked around corner and sure enough, there was a huge table with a dozen silver chairs. In the center, three platters were piled high with foods he didn’t recognize.

“Knox, you back there?” Osip called as he leaned over the table and popped a bite into his mouth. Half-chewing he asked, “You like ham and swiss rolls? They’re amazing. Here, try one.” He picked up the pink and white item by the toothpick and handed it to Theo.

As he bit in, a massive man emerged from the kitchen doorway with yet another platter of food, this one with some assortment of fruit. Between the savory, earthen flavors that soared over his tongue and the giant before him, Theo could only stand and stare.

It was so much to take in at once.

“You’re the big new nut,” the giant bellowed with a hearty laugh. He set the platter down and picked off a few pieces of some green fruit.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Theo,” he said once he’d swallowed the ham and swiss roll. “These are really good.”

“No good starving a camel.” Theo didn’t know if he referred to the accident or if something worse was coming. He wasn’t sure he could handle worse.

“What’s this one?” Osip asked with a mouth already full.

“Watermelon. Gotta stack it to snack it.” Knox picked up a red, juicy triangle. He grabbed a white square of cheese off another platter. Last, he added a leaf.

“This mint?” Osip asked.

Knox nodded. “Green as a sky.”

Following Knox’s example, Osip and Theo built the strange concoction of foods they’d never seen and put them in their mouths in unison. Theo couldn’t believe the flavors. Sweet, savory, cool. He’d never had anything like it.

“Oh man, that’s fantastic.” Osip was the first to gush.

“Totally blows your mind grapes,” Knox said as he clapped Theo hard on the back, too hard.

The three fell into chairs and proceeded to clean the platters bit by bit. “Theo here’s a Scholar from Lancaster,” Osip told Knox, never managing a word without food in his cheek.

As if the indigo body suit didn’t give it away.

Light gleamed off Knox’s bald head. “Scholar? Nick sure crapped his slacks.”

Osip laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth with a fist to avoid spewing food across the table. Theo, too, cracked a smile, though it felt wrong. It felt like a betrayal to the life he took.

“How long have you been here?” Theo asked, eager to shift the conversation to someone else.

Knox was a beast, at least eight or ten inches taller than him and built like a snowman. His skin was a mocha color from the Pacific. His eyes were dark, yet bright, smiling. He was a good ten years older than Theo or Osip.

“Too old to start counting the milk.”

Theo had no idea what Knox was saying. He turned to Osip. “How many of us are there?”

Osip squinted with thought before he said, “You make six. Three girls and three guys. Mable’s the newest one, before you of course.”

“Four makes the cake.” Knox added.

“What is this place?” A sanctuary for murderers, obviously.

“Silas runs the new nuts.” Knox smiled.

“Silas?” Osip stared. “You mean Dr. Arrenstein? The director of the facility? You call him Silas? And you’re still alive?”

Knox laughed. His full cheeks jiggled and his belly shook. “New nuts hit the grill tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah. We’ve been sitting around here for weeks. I need something to do or I’m gonna lose it!” Osip pounded his fist on the table to prove his point.

Knox smiled a knowing smile and nodded, his eyes flashing with something Theo didn’t quite recognize. Maybe sadness, maybe something else. At last he said, “Nut grill likes to burn ya.”