The Meeting Point (4 page)

 

 

A soft knock on the door stunned Deborah awake. She quickly got her bearings and yanked herself out from under Marcus's arm, rousing him from his deep sleep. As she dropped to the floor, all arms and limbs struggling to break free from the tangle of blankets, he clambered to help her and shouted toward the door. “Wait just a second.”

He grabbed the sheets and pulled hard. Deborah wriggled and kicked frantically, trying to reach the safe, dark hiding spot under the bed. She lay as still as she could in the dusty space, heart thundering, crushing her fists into her mouth, hoping the guard wouldn't come in and around the bed to witness her still strangled ankle hanging off the mattress. A short draft signaled Marcus covering her foot with some sheets.

She strained to hear what was being said over her own panicked breathing.

“I'm not feeling too well,” Marcus said, and then coughed a little to stress the point.

Deborah rolled her eyes. Really. She could imagine the pained look and hands clutching at his own chest.
Don't overdo it
, she repeated in her head, a bubble of humor breaking through her nerves.

“Yes, Lottie let me know.” The guard sounded neither irritated nor concerned, and Deborah relaxed a little. “I've been looking over your records, and you've not had one sick day in your whole time here.”

A bizarre sense of pride in her man swelled in Deborah's chest.

“I know.” Marcus's weak voice could barely be heard. “I think I'm a little worn down.”

Deborah tutted under her breath. He was really playing this up.

“Well, you're entitled to rest every now and then.” The guard's feet approached the bed and the covers began to flutter and move.

Go away!
Deborah bit down again on her fists, trying to focus on keeping her exposed foot absolutely still.

“Just leave the bedding,” Marcus's voice was anything but frail now, and he must have realized as he coughed again and said weakly, “I can sort it, thank you.”

“If you're sure?” The guard paused for a second, then Deborah watched as her feet began to shuffle away. “I'll bring your breakfast up—unless you aren't feeling hungry?”

Deborah's stomach rumbled on cue and she almost reached out and grabbed the guard's ankles.
Oh God, Marcus, get her to bring food,
she silently implored. She couldn't remember her last meal and she was suddenly consumed by real hunger.

“Actually, I'm feeling like I could eat a horse. I guess I really do need to recharge and replenish myself.”
Good one, Marcus.
“You couldn't slip in a little extra, could you?”

“I'll see what I can do.” The guard's voice seemed to have softened and Deborah thought she even detected a small, fond laugh.

As soon as the door was shut, Marcus tumbled down beside her, laughing and smiling.

“How did I do?” He coughed, putting on his ill act for Deborah to assess.

“Jeez, sweetheart, at least you didn't overact or anything.” She rolled her eyes at him, and he reached toward her, grabbing her waist, and pulled her out from under the bed.

“Are you questioning my talents, madam?” he asked, lifting her onto his lap and kissing her deeply.

“I would never do such a thing.”

They enveloped themselves in each other's morning languor, and Deborah began to melt into that ethereal place—she was tripping half on love, half on hunger, and it was a heady mix.

She came to and clutched her stomach. “Marcus, I'm starving. Shouldn't I hide in case the food woman comes back soon?”

“Yes, I guess you should.” Marcus reluctantly released her, finally untangling the sheets from her ankle and rubbing the ridges where they'd dug in.

A few moments later, the door swung open and a trolley was pushed in. Deborah was salivating at the smell of warm bread and pastries. Images of the feasts that were laid on for her and her ‘clients' at the prison flashed into her mind. It hadn't happened many times, but when it had, Deborah would not touch the feast; she would leave it all for her subject and assistant to gorge themselves on. It was part of her way to appear in control. Though in reality, she would be watching from behind one of the thick, velvet curtains, practically crying at the sight. It was only after they left that she would allow herself to eat. Then she would try every single item on the lush table.

Her stomach let out a huge growl which must have been heard outside her hiding place. Marcus confirmed this by coughing loudly and apologizing.

Just hurry up and fuck off
, thought Deborah as the guard asked for the tenth time if she could be of any further assistance.

“No, really, you've been wonderful already,” Marcus said graciously. “This looks so delicious.”

“Well, if you're sure.”

Yes, he's fucking sure!
Deborah was grumpy with hunger, but suppressed a giggle at her own fury.

Finally, the door clunked shut and Deborah sprung out from under the bed.

“Come on, let's eat.” She felt like a lion after a kill and grabbed great handfuls of the hot bread, cramming it into her mouth and washing it down with nettle tea and juice. She wasn't sure what kind of juice it was, maybe that licorice root stuff, but she didn't care. She ate and ate while Marcus stared.

“I've never seen you feast like this.”

She smiled, morsels falling out of her full mouth as she attempted to speak. “That's 'cause you fed me bloody squirrels on a stick.” She laughed, spluttering more half-chewed bread over the bed.

Marcus laughed and squeezed her shoulder. While they were hiding in the forest food had been both modest and interesting.

She pressed a piece of dried apple to his lips and he took it, lingering his mouth on her fingertips.

Too hungry to be dealing with sex right now, she snatched her fingers away and was astonished at how comfortable and familiar their relationship was. She had been expecting some strangeness, questioning, guilt, or jealousy about what the other had done over the past eight years, but it was as though they were starting where they had left off. As if the time apart was just a throwaway moment in their history.

She paused, a breadstick halfway to her lips, when she noticed Marcus staring at her, making her blush self-consciously. “What?” she asked.

He smiled. “Nothing,” he said, reaching to her cheek and gently slipping a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was just thinking how easy it is to be with you.”

“That's exactly what I was thinking.” She grinned and took a bite. “Please eat something, Marcus. I feel like a pig.”

Marcus reached over and took an apple, gazing at her the whole time. “You haven't changed at all,” he said, still watching her as if spellbound. “You are the same perfect, gorgeous human being you ever were.”

Deborah blushed again. “So are you.” But she still wasn't ready to drop the food and fall into his arms just yet, her stomach would have killed her. A thought brought tension into her chest. “Marcus, they give you no warning when they're going to come in.”

“I know. It's not ideal. Give me a moment,” he said, clambering out of bed and to a desk under the window. Well, at least he had a view to the outdoors, albeit more of a skylight since it was situated so high in the wall. Marcus had shown her the stars as they'd laid in bed together looking out at their future.

“When shall we leave?” she asked as Marcus brought back a bit of paper and a pencil.

“Escape?”

“Yes.” Deborah smiled, full of excitement for what might be out there together in the world.

“I tried that before.” He looked sad as he started to write something on the paper.

“Yes, but it should be pretty easy. I managed to get all the way here with hardly a person questioning me, or even noticing me. It would be so easy to just go.”

Marcus looked suddenly defeated. “Not for me,” he said quietly, and Deborah wanted to shake him.

“What are you talking about?” She pulled his focus to her and held up her wrist with the beaded leather bracelet. “Look how easily I made it in here. We can just disguise you and walk out the front door.” When Deborah remembered her easy passage through the farm she was suddenly furious at Marcus. “In fact, why the hell haven't you tried before now?” She spat the words at him ferociously.

He matched her fury and held up his own wrist. “You think I haven't tried?” He grabbed her hair and forced her to look at his arm. “Look at this.” He shook her head. “Look at it!”

She looked. Two red lines made a path all the way down to the inside of his forearm, just above his wrist and stopped at a small, angry-looking scar. Deborah felt nauseous and ashamed that she hadn't even noticed it. It looked painful, as if it hadn't healed properly, and as she studied it more closely she could see two fine copper wires poking out at the edges.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

Marcus released her hair and slumped back into his pillows. “They're electrodes. They go all the way into my heart.”

Deborah thought she was going to be sick. “When did they put them there?”

“After my first escape.”

“You escaped?”

“Only over the wall. They found me pretty quickly and gave me a little gift to stop me from doing it again.”

Deborah ran her fingertips over the wires and he winced. “Is it painful?”

“Only when I try and pick them out.” His fingers joined hers stroking the strange restraints.

“What would happen if you succeeded?” She pinched the end of one of the wires and tried to tease it gently out.

“It would rupture an artery in my heart. I would bleed to death in seconds.”

Deborah released her grip and jumped back from Marcus, horrified. Her body shook as she absorbed the terror of what she had nearly done.

“But how does that keep you in here?” She was sobbing now, trying to understand, trying to imagine his life.

“There's a perimeter set up outside. If I cross it, the circuit completes, and
boom
.” He pulled his hands apart, spreading his fingers to mimic an explosion.

Deborah fell forward into his lap and lay there sobbing. “How long ago did you try?”

“It wasn't long after I was brought here. Well, a couple of months or so.”

Deborah thought back to the early days in the prison when she had been given her own lab to study the toxins rampaging through the earth. She'd all but forgotten her days of being a scientist. She'd been a good one too. Until she'd realized her work had been a futile waste of time and effort. The government had only been interested in accelerating the destruction. Her work would have been used to aid the end of the world as they knew it. That was when she'd turned. That was when she'd been brought her first offender to rehabilitate.

“Wait, did anyone help you that first time?”

Marcus suddenly looked very sad. “Yes, yes there was someone who helped me.” He sighed and his shoulders sagged. “Apart from not making it to freedom, that is my one regret. My assistant at the time risked everything to help me. I haven't seen her since.”

Deborah's chest bubbled with nerves and excitement. “Was her name Katja?”

Marcus leaned up and onto his knees. “Yes, how did you know?”

“She was at my prison.” Deborah didn't want to get in too deep at the moment, so she kept it brief, quite sure he would be grateful, especially since she didn't care to hear about everything he'd done over the past eight years.

“Do you know what became of her?”

“She's fine, Marcus.” Deborah watched as her words eased his burden of guilt. “She's still here, I met her. She's the one who gave me this pass.” She held up the bracelet once more.

A shuffle at the door made the hairs rise on Deborah's neck. Quick as she could, she threw herself off the bed just as the door opened and two women came in.

“I've brought the nurse to check you over.” Deborah recognized the voice of the guard who brought breakfast.

“I'll be fine. I told you, I just need a rest.”

“I'll be the judge of that, 832,” said a clipped voice that Deborah assumed was the nurse. “We can't have our biggest asset languishing in bed for weeks on end.”

She could have reached through the bedclothes to the woman's skinny little ankles and scratched the flesh off the bone. Her hands twitched.

“It's been two hours so far,” said Marcus, and Deborah could hear the scowl.

“I must say, you do look a little drained.” The feet moved around efficiently and Deborah imagined her taking his blood pressure and temperature, feeling his brow and tutting as she tapped the glass device. “And just how are you feeling, 832?”

Fury seeped through Deborah's pores once more at the use of a number for her lover.

“Well, I'm exhausted. I would just like to know I could rest for a few days without having any pressure applied to me. Please. I've been a good and loyal servant of this farm. I just need some time alone.”

The nurse seemed to be considering his plea and took a few moments before she answered. “Very well. I shall prescribe one week of bed rest with a sign to be hung outside your door when you don't want disturbed.”

Deborah could hear notes being scratched on paper and she could have reached out again to those pretty ankles and kissed the woman's efficient little feet. A squeal of delight almost broke free, and Deborah clamped her hands to her face to keep it in.

“Thank you. It's all I ask for.”

“You know we aren't monsters here, 832. We do like to take care of our investments.”

And with that, the two women left, pulling the trolley behind them. Deborah's heart sank when she realized it would still be full of unfinished food.

“Excuse me?” Marcus called out as the door began to close. “You don't think you could put that sign up right now for a bit, could you?”