Disruption (15 page)

‘Guess it’s your lucky day,’ I slurred.

‘Damn straight,’ he replied, pressing down the top of the tube like it was a syringe. The contents moved through my insides, at first cold and then just uncomfortable.

‘Glutaraldehyde?’ I asked.

He nodded, not looking at me.

‘Who?’ I asked.

Gus didn’t answer.

When Gus finished, he motioned for Quentin to pass him the bag by the door. He pulled out what looked suspiciously like a staple gun.

‘Tell me you didn’t get that from the hardware store.’

He gave me a toothy grin. ‘I’d recommend looking away.’ Then without another word, he pinched together the skin of the wound, causing me to cry out. I stopped when Quentin grabbed my hand tightly in his. He crouched down beside me, his other hand bracing my shoulder, his eyes holding mine.

Gus stapled me together three times on the front and four on the back before bandaging me back up and leaving with barely a ‘See you later’.

‘Was that strange?’ Quentin asked after Gus had disappeared.

‘No. I get stapled all the time.’ I made him laugh, which was a good thing. Especially since I didn’t want to give him the real answer.

Gus had just used the last of whatever money we had stashed plus, I was sure, a large chunk of his personal loot to buy black-market medi-supplies. Glutaraldehyde was what they used to patch up soldiers in the field. It was top of the line, expensive and damn hard to come by without having to answer a lot of unwanted questions.

Gus, who wanted to see the back of me more than anything else in this world, had just saved my ass. No wonder he wasn’t in a chatty mood.

Q
uentin roused me and made it safely into the bathroom just before Mom let herself into my room.

‘Maggie, are you okay? Why aren’t you up?’

I fiddled with the blankets, still groggy from all of the drugs. ‘Not feeling the best,’ I rasped. Understatement of the century.

Mom moved forwards to put a hand to my forehead. ‘You don’t feel hot, but you’re white as a ghost and all clammy.’

While she leaned over me I glanced around the room nervously, looking for bloody clothes or telltale signs of what had gone on last night. Quentin had taken care of everything.

‘I think it’s a stomach bug. There’s been one going around at school.’

Mom smoothed the hair back from my forehead. ‘Maybe you should come in and get checked out?’

I relaxed my facial muscles and did my best to make my smile convincing. It’s not easy when your body is screaming in pain and your mind is freaking out. ‘Mom, I’m fine. I’ll call you if I need anything. I just need a day or two of rest.’

She pursed her lips. ‘I told you you’ve been pushing things too hard.’

I nodded. ‘Guess you were right.’

Her expression softened. ‘Okay, darling. You rest. We need to get you right by the weekend. Last thing you want is to be looking green at the ball!’ she said with a giggle. ‘Oh, you know I saw a picture of him in the social pages yesterday. He’s …’ She shook her head, smiling. ‘I mean Maggie, even you have to admit he’s –’

‘I get it, Mom,’ I cut her off quickly, knowing Quentin was listening in the bathroom. ‘I really just want to go back to sleep.’

Her face softened. ‘Okay, okay. Call me if you need me.’

I waited until she had gone downstairs and I’d heard the door close behind her. ‘You can come out,’ I said.

He strolled out of the bathroom, his expression blank.

‘Thanks for tidying up.’

He shrugged.

‘And for staying all night.’

‘You should get some sleep.’

I nodded and closed my eyes, only to reopen them an instant later. ‘Aren’t you going to gloat?’ He hadn’t said anything about my mother’s comments.

Quentin put his hands in his pockets and looked out the window with his back to me. ‘I told you before, Maggie. People see an ideal. It’s nothing to gloat about.’

I didn’t go to school for the rest of the week. But by Thursday afternoon I was starting to move around a little more, much to Quentin’s frustration. He insisted I shouldn’t move for at least a few more days. I explained that he wasn’t a doctor and that not only did I need to get moving to get strong again, but that I still had every intention of going with him to the ball on Saturday.

Sarah had recognised Dad. She’d known enough to point me in the right direction. Then I’d gone and let her die before I’d even discovered what she knew. I’d failed them both.

I
had
to believe Dad was still alive. Had to believe this was all worth it. Maybe, just maybe, when I got him out of there and back to us, it would all be okay.

Images of Sarah were with me constantly, every little sound causing me to spin around. And every time, for just a moment, I was there again, watching as the bullet … I knew that until I did something good, something worthwhile, I had no chance of stopping them from haunting me.

On Friday I tried to get ready for work so I could at least earn some money, only to end in a pathetic fail, calling in sick yet again. But since I’d at least managed to get a pair of shoes on, an hour later, I decided to attempt a walk around the block.

At about the halfway point, Quentin rolled up in his BMW and pulled to the kerb.

In trademark alpha fashion, he jumped out of the car, slamming the door. ‘What are you doing?’ he growled, stalking towards me. He grabbed my arm, halting me in my tracks. ‘Don’t be stupid, Maggie. You need to rest.’

But the concern in his eyes didn’t help. I yanked my arm free of his, angry at the world. ‘You don’t tell me what to do! You don’t get to act like you care! That we’re
something
! I have a job to do and no one is going to get in the way. Do you hear me! Not Gus, not that stupid girl, and most certainly
not
you!’

He blinked, watching me like I’d just sprouted horns. ‘What girl?’

I shook my head, losing my fight and feeling increasingly faint. ‘It doesn’t matter. She’s dead. Your father’s army killed her,’ I bit out. ‘And I helped them.’

He flinched.

I walked to his car and slid in.

He joined me and we drove back in silence.

Quentin sat at my desk in front of a white paper bag, looking over at me as I resettled into bed. At least I could sit up now. He was in grey pants and a white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie hung around his neck, undone. As if that weren’t enough of a distraction, he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. At least I’d finally applied a mute zip to my M-Band. It was worth enduring Gus’s laughing fit when he delivered it to know I didn’t have to muster the energy right now to control my pulse rate.

‘The company. My father. That’s what they do. Kill negs,’ Quentin said. Each sentence broken and heavy. Each conclusion a step away from the world as he knew it.

This is what I’d wanted him to see and understand. But now, listening to him say those words, how with each one his head hung a little lower, I wanted to take it all back.

‘That’s what I thought too. The first time I saw a clean-up I thought they were all dead, but then I really thought about it and it didn’t add up.’

He nodded. ‘Why feed them and keep them alive for years at a time to just kill them? It has to be some kind of investment. My father wouldn’t … He’s astute.’

I preferred the word ‘cold-blooded’, but was impressed he’d deduced so much.

His head shot up. ‘So why do they keep them alive?’

I took a deep breath and let it out. ‘What’s in the bag?’ I asked, stalling for thinking time.

He picked up the paper bag and rolled on the chair towards me. When I looked inside, my mouth began to water.

‘I thought I could smell something delicious and bad.’ I pulled out the hotdog, covered in sauce, and took a huge bite, savouring the flavour hit. ‘I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,’ I said around my full mouth.

When I looked up, he was smiling proudly.

‘Want a bite?’

He shook his head.

‘Liar.’ I held it out to him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he took the hotdog and bit into it.

His face lit up when he started chewing. I burst out laughing, which hurt, but not enough to stop.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘You groaned!’ I spluttered, still laughing.

He laughed too. ‘Okay, they’re good.’

I raised my eyebrows.

‘Very good,’ he corrected, taking another large bite.

‘Hey!’ I said, reaching out and yanking back my hotdog. ‘Next time bring two.’

He smiled as he chewed. It was a nice view.

I held onto the hotdog and took another deep breath. It was time to tell him. ‘They strip them of everything – family, friends, independence, a future – then they train them. Some are used for factory work, some of the skilled are relocated into research facilities and most of the physically able are assigned to the military. Haven’t you noticed how the need to recruit army personnel is no longer an issue, and yet we have more armed forces than ever? And it’s not just the government forces, it’s privately funded armies as well. Soldiers who know beyond a doubt that they serve or they will be killed. It’s their one chance at survival. And let’s face it, as far as they are concerned, they’re negs with nothing else waiting for them, so many of them gladly take up the positions.’

I handed him the last bite of the hotdog. I knew he was using the time it took to finish it to absorb this new information. When he looked up, there was a kind of hope in his eyes.

‘Maybe it’s a step towards rehabilitation, like they say. Negs aren’t designed to be a part of society, but maybe giving them something to fight for – a country to honour – maybe that is a good thing.’

‘Is that what you believe
you
need? Is that the future you deserve?’ Even as I said the words I knew it wasn’t a solid argument since Quentin wasn’t technically a neg. But I was sure he wasn’t the only one being led to believe he was something he was not.

‘Maybe it is,’ he replied, his words a whisper.

‘You’re really willing to accept that? That your life should be defined by some rating?’

He ran a hand over his scalp. ‘It’s what I’ve been raised to believe. A technology that can provide society with acceptable and peaceful boundaries.’

‘That is such bullshit!’

His sad eyes met mine. ‘I’m a neg, Maggie. There is something in me that makes me that way. On some level … I’m wrong. Maybe I should just accept that …’ He swallowed roughly. ‘Come clean.’

I wanted to scream at him. Tell him he wasn’t a damn neg at all. But I couldn’t. So instead I decided to give him as much as I could right then.

I leaned back against my headboard, knowing this was going to take a little explaining.

‘When I was sixteen, my father used to take me to this little diner not far from where we lived. Mom used to work on Thursday nights and Samuel was old enough by then to avoid family time. Dad liked junk food, like me, it was one of the only things we really had in common.’ I blew out a breath. ‘Anyway, Dad designed pesticides for local farms and he enjoyed the development side and experimenting. He used to joke about how the M-Chip was a disease. How people would flock to it until it destroyed them all.’

Quentin kept his head down, listening intently.

‘But he was fascinated by the pheromone tech. He started to apply some of the science from his pesticides, and one Thursday night I caught him slip something into our waitress’s drink on his way back from the bathroom. She always kept her drink by the register. When Dad realised I’d seen him, he just winked. And it became our secret.’

My hands started to tremble as I relived the memories of my dad. ‘The first few times, nothing happened. But each Thursday we’d go there and each Thursday he’d slip another concoction into the same waitress’s drink. I asked him once if it could hurt her. He smiled and told me how proud he was that I had asked such an important question.’ I smiled at the memory. ‘Then he assured me it was all very safe.’ I paused, swallowing a few times before going on. ‘Finally, one night, something happened.’

Quentin looked up, his interest growing.

‘Moments after taking a sip of her water, the waitress – who’d consistently scored below average in her phera-ratings – was suddenly scoring higher than ever before, with one or two customers in particular. She was completely baffled.’ I smirked. ‘But when I looked at Dad, he just winked, paid the bill, and drove us home.’

I remembered the feeling of awe I’d felt towards my father that day.

‘He altered her ratings?’

I nodded. ‘It went on like that each week. Dad worked tirelessly at perfecting the formula, trying to increase the waitress’s appeal and also the limited period of time it seemed to work for. He didn’t discuss it much with me, but when I asked a big enough question, he’d always put down his pen and explain it in the same way. He’d say, “Margaret, just imagine all the good that we could do.”’ I stared blankly into the room, lost in my memories. ‘He was my hero.’

‘What happened?’

I shook my head, coming back to the present. I couldn’t tell him everything, as much as I wanted to at that moment. ‘One day he came home from work frantic, grabbing things and throwing papers everywhere. Mom arrived home, calling out for him. She was … crying. I remember sitting in the kitchen doing my homework. Mom came in and grabbed a glass of water. Her hands were shaking and the water spilled everywhere. Dad came in a minute later. He looked at me and said, “Sorry, kiddo.” Then Mom took his phera-rating.’

Quentin didn’t say a word.

I stared at the wall. ‘Apparently he just started registering negative ratings that day. He never had before, and definitely not with Mom. They’d been a steady seventy per cent from the beginning.’ Not perfect, but good enough to be happy together.

I shook my head. ‘Mom couldn’t take it. She screamed at him, threw the glass at the wall and accused him of doing something unforgivable. She couldn’t see any other way for a man to suddenly go from completely normal to full negative. Even now I think she suspects he cheated on her and contracted some deadly disease. Dad just sat down opposite me and took Mom’s anger until the patrol cars arrived. They said they were taking him in for an interview. We never saw him again.’

‘Wow,’ Quentin said, taking it all in.

‘He was a good person, Quin. He was,
is
, my dad. And out of nowhere everything was taken from us. Now he’s gone and Mom works every day to pay off his debts. Samuel doesn’t care about anyone, least of all himself. And I –’

‘You spend your life hidden in the shadows, risking everything, trying to rescue all of them.’

It stung that he somehow knew me better than anyone. ‘Someone has to believe there’s another way. The system is flawed. My father was no more a neg than you are.’

Slowly, Quentin nodded, but I could see he still wasn’t convinced that anything I’d said meant anything good for him. And after a while of staring down at his feet, he stood up. ‘I’d better get going. Are you sure you want to do this thing tomorrow night? I really think you should keep resting.’

‘Pick me up at seven,’ I said.

‘Okay, Maggie,’ he said, as if he wanted to argue, but wouldn’t at the same time. When he reached the door, he looked at me over his shoulder. ‘We only have two doses left of the disruption.’

I pressed my lips together and dredged out a small smile. ‘I’ll find the permanent disruption before you run out.’

His forehead furrowed in that way it did. ‘I didn’t think there was a permanent disruption.’

‘Yeah, well, turns out there is. Gus found something in that data we lifted from the lab last week. I’ll get it for you. I promise.’

He watched me, hesitating. I could see a question in his eyes that he wasn’t going to ask. I didn’t know what it was. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and left.