Disruption (9 page)

‘Anything?’ I asked Gus.

‘I’m looking, looking … maybe,’ he muttered. I started to move back into the main room, phone still to my ear, seeing now why Quentin was stock-still. He was staring at a wall of empty glass cages.

Human-sized.

‘Oh shit, Maggie,’ came Gus’s voice.

‘What?’ I asked, now alert.

‘Get out of there. It’s a cleaning day.’

I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘A cleaning day,’ I repeated, my voice dropping to a whisper. Quentin, as if sensing the problem, turned to me.

‘At Junction 18. You’re too close. Haul ass,’ Gus insisted. He almost sounded worried about me, but I knew better. I had tech on me that, in the right hands, could be traced back to him. He was in danger too.

I didn’t respond. Silence surrounded me, but inside my mind was screaming out orders to do something. Quentin was watching me intently, wondering what the hell was happening. I stared back at him briefly, wondering the same thing.

‘Damn it, Maggie. I can hear your mind thinking something very, very bad,’ Gus said.

‘How long left on the elevator?’ I asked.

‘Seventeen minutes. You don’t have time!’

‘We’ll be back in time.’ And then I hung up the phone as Quentin stepped closer.

I opened my palm, showing him the vial. ‘It’s for your disruption. It was all I could find, but it’s enough to make a few doses.’ He eyed the vial and watched carefully as I placed it in my backpack.

‘What’s a cleaning day?’ Quentin asked.

I huffed, angry that he could be so naive. ‘Where do you think they all go, Quentin? The negs?’

He wet his lips, feeling my anger. ‘Rehabilitation farms,’ he answered, trying to stand tall, but already wavering.

I started walking back the way we’d come, careful to make sure everything was as we found it.

‘And how many farms have you visited?’ I hissed as we exited the lab and returned to the tunnels.

‘A few. Three, maybe four. There is one in every state.’

I couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that bubbled out. ‘Gus was right. You really have no idea. Do you honestly think all the negs go to
rehab
?’ Before he could answer, I walked on, in the opposite direction to the one that led us back to the elevator and out of here. ‘Let me ask you this, Quentin Mercer.’ His name fell harshly from my lips. ‘How many negs do you know who have been reintroduced to society?’

Keeping pace, he answered, ‘We’re not
supposed
to know them. They’re given new identities and places to live so that they can start fresh. That’s how we protect them,
Maggie
,’ he said my name with the same vehemence that I’d just delivered to him.

Moving faster now, increasing to a run, I could feel myself beginning to shake with fury.

‘Where are we going?’ he snapped.

Not slowing, I looked over my shoulder at him. ‘You’ll never believe it until you see it.’

‘What else is down here?’

I slowed when I saw the opening that signalled we were at Junction 18 and blew out a breath before meeting his eyes, keeping my voice low. ‘Down here is where M-Corp plays God.’

J
unction 18 had been scheduled for cleaning. That meant it was crawling with security – the kind who had really big guns and weren’t opposed to using them. But I had one thing going for me: Junction 18 had been one of the first communities I’d visited underground and I knew how to stay unnoticed.

There were dozens of soldiers near the main entrance, taking orders and generally milling about in case there was any excitement. They were all big men, dressed in intimidating combat uniforms and laden with weapons. But that wasn’t why they frightened me. It was their hardened eyes. They were in this place because they were the best. Or rather, the worst. Soldiers in the underground were all negs. This was about as much rehabilitation as any neg could hope for – the chance to become a soldier for hire. And M-Corp had the cream of the crop. For the soldiers, the alternative was final and all the motivation they needed. They killed in a blink and followed orders without question. Without fail.

I noticed the pod we’d seen zoom by earlier was parked at the entrance, probably on standby.

Staying in the shadows, I led Quentin down a narrow, unused tunnel to the side. He stayed close enough that I heard the muted beep of his M-Band go off. I wondered fleetingly why he didn’t have a vibrate accessory on his heart-rate zip. Even I could afford one of those. I bit my lip, my thoughts going one step further to consider the possibility he might simply prefer to beat the heart-rate beep. Like me. Whatever the reason, I was impressed he’d had the foresight to keep it covered. No one else would’ve heard it.

Finally, we came to a small opening. It wasn’t much, just a ventilation hole and emergency exit. No one would use this tunnel unless they didn’t want to be seen.

I crouched down on all fours and crawled to the edge. Quentin followed my lead wordlessly. The ground was hard-packed dirt, rough with gravel, and we had to be careful not to stir up a dust cloud and draw attention to ourselves.

Nearing the edge, I dropped onto my stomach and levered up onto my elbows. Quentin mimicked my movements, shuffling commando style behind me.

The community below was similar to the last one I’d visited. Like a salad bowl carved out of granite. And within the bowl, a small group of buildings that I knew were dorm-style prisons.

Security and other uniformed personnel were moving between the buildings quickly, making short time of a messy job.

There were dump piles outside each of the buildings. And they were growing larger as more and more items were tossed onto them.

‘What is all that stuff?’ Quentin whispered.

I glanced at him. His face was a multitude of questions.

‘Clothes, sheets, anything else they can find.’

I pointed to the far side of the community, where a large truck had been driven in through an aqueduct. People in plain grey uniforms were being loaded into the truck.

‘Who are they?’

‘Negs,’ I answered.

I cast my eye over them carefully, out of habit more than anything else. I’d already checked this community. I knew Dad wasn’t down there, but I couldn’t stop myself.

‘Where are they going?’ he asked.

I didn’t answer.

‘Maggie, tell me!’ he ordered.

We were running low on time. But he needed to see this.

‘There are so many more negs than they ever told you or anyone else about. They’re herded up and locked away. There are dozens of cell communities like this down here. Dozens.’

Quentin listened to me, glancing between me and the community.

‘But still, there isn’t enough room to fit all the negs,’ I went on. ‘Eventually they need to clear a space and start again.’

‘Where do the people go?’ His voice was lower now, filled with a new dread.

I began to shuffle back from the opening and into the dark tunnel. Quentin followed, watching me closely. My phone vibrated and I glanced at Gus’s message.

When my eyes connected with Quentin’s, I answered the only way I knew how. ‘Down here, they’re not people. They’re negs.’ I let the word hang for a moment. ‘We have to go,’ I added with a little more force.

Quentin shadowed me, moving at a quick pace. Just as we rounded the corner to get back into the main transit tunnel, Quentin grabbed me, pulling me back into the narrow side tunnel. Eyes wide, I watched as he put his finger to his lips, guarding me with his body as I had done for him earlier. Instinctively I wanted to push him off and take charge, but he held my eyes knowingly, holding me in place. A few seconds later, two guards walked by. Quentin stuck his head around the corner. ‘They’ve gone down a side tunnel,’ he whispered, releasing me.

Stunned by the close call, I licked my dry lips and nodded. ‘Thanks,’ I said.

He shrugged. ‘Glad to be of use.’

Carefully, I led us through the transit tunnel until we were well clear of Junction 18. Then we started to run.

‘How much time do we have?’ Quentin asked. He was starting to run out of steam and I didn’t blame him.

‘Seven minutes.’ When Gus had messaged me, it had been ten and I’d been keeping count since then.

Quentin baulked. ‘It’s at least a fifteen-minute trip back.’

He was right and I didn’t know of any closer exit points. But I had one card left to play.

When we arrived back at Junction 17, I grabbed the public phone by the wall to the entrance. ‘Stay over there,’ I ordered Quentin.

He was getting frustrated. And scared. It was a good sign that his self-preservation was still intact.

I glanced up at the tunnel camera. It would come on, since I was using the phone. These ones only activated when they knew they had activity, so I kept close to the wall where all it would catch was the top of my head.

‘Transit request, press star,’ the automated message said. I did as instructed.

‘Transit destination?’

I pressed the number six, sending it far beyond where we needed to go, so as not to leave a trail.

‘Transit deployed. Arrival in … forty-five seconds,’ the computer responded.

I hung up and positioned us out of the oncoming pod’s line of sight, making sure I kept clear of the camera as well. If the camera wasn’t off by the time the pod came by, it would be more difficult. But I was out of options.

‘Maggie,’ Quentin began, but I cut him off.

‘Stay back against the wall. When the transit pod arrives, wait until I signal for you.’ I narrowed my eyes at him and pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him further towards the wall. ‘I mean it. Not until I signal, no matter what. Do you understand?’

He swallowed and nodded.

It was only moments until we heard the sound of the approaching pod. I sighed when I saw there was a passenger already onboard. I knew there had been a good chance, but still, it would’ve been nice if there hadn’t been.

The door opened and the security guard stepped out, looking for whoever had called the pod. I waited until he paced a few steps towards us, and when he turned to pace in the other direction, I moved fast, coming up behind the pod, raising my hand that was already holding the tranq gun. When I was sure I had a good aim, I fired.

The dart went straight to his neck, and though he spun around and his hand flew to the dart, he was down in three seconds tops.

I blew out the breath I’d been holding and leaned back against the pod for a second, checking with relief to see the camera light had gone off. Then I got moving, waving to Quentin.

He joined me as I leaned over the security guy. ‘Help me load him in,’ I said after I pulled the dart, pocketing the evidence.

‘Is he …?’

‘He’s asleep, and hopefully won’t remember this when he wakes up.’ The propranolol mixed into a sedative caused minor amnesia, but it wasn’t guaranteed; some people took to it more than others. Either way, the guard hadn’t seen us.

‘How long will he be out?’

‘Only a few minutes, so we need to hurry.’ I started pulling at the guard’s legs and Quentin dutifully gripped under his arms. We heaved him into the pod and sat him on the bench seat. I arranged his head so he looked like he’d simply drifted off.

Quentin watched in horror as I brushed the dirt off the guard, cleaning him up. Details mattered.

‘Jump on the back. There’s a small ledge and a handhold at the top. Get a good grip. I’ll follow you.’

He blinked. ‘Aren’t we going in the pod?’

I shook my head. ‘It won’t stop where we need to go. Hurry up.’

He did as ordered. And when he was in position, I pressed the door button and jumped out and onto the back just in time.

The pod jerked forwards and sped through the junction tunnel. It would only take a minute to get where we needed to go, which was a good thing, since we only had four left.

And we still had to get back into the elevator.

When we passed Junction 16, I nudged Quentin. ‘When I nod, you jump! Don’t hesitate!’ I yelled.

He nodded nervously.

I nudged him again. ‘Jump and run, or jump and roll!’

He nodded again.

I saw the approaching junction and timed it to the second, nudging Quentin one last time and giving him a sharp nod.

He jumped immediately and I followed. I chose to jump and run, since my last jump and roll had resulted in a gravel-filled ass. I wasn’t sure what Quentin chose exactly, since he ended up on his back, but in all honesty, he’d done a lot better than I had my first go. I’d ended up in a wall.

With no time to lose, I was running and yelling at him to hurry up. We sprinted down the narrow side tunnel that led to the elevator shaft and through the door. I was so relieved to find the elevator still there, I actually let out a small giggle.

Quentin stared at me in dismay as he climbed through the hatch, which only made me laugh outright.

I followed him through the hatch, resting my feet on the railing so I could quickly put the screws back in place. It was one of those times I felt like forgetting about the damn details and just getting the hell out of there, but I’d already left a guard drugged in a pod. I couldn’t leave any other clues behind.

Each screw took a small eternity, but my hand remained steady and I got the job done. Then I grabbed my phone.

‘Tell me you’re back,’ Gus said.

I jumped down from the railing, rolling my ankle as I did. Quentin grabbed my waist to steady me. My eyes shot to his, and I flashed back to having my entire body pressed against his in the tunnel.

‘Open the doors,’ I said to Gus, stepping back from Quentin.

‘Move it, Maggie. Cameras come back up in thirty seconds. Take the mall parking exit.’

I hung up as the doors opened. I glanced at Quentin, who was watching me intently. ‘Run,’ I said.

We sprinted and made it out the pedestrian exit back onto the street. I abruptly slowed to a brisk walk, grabbing Quentin’s arm to indicate he do the same.

Panting for air, we kept moving until we saw a bus pull up across the road. I tugged on his sleeve and jogged over to it, jumping aboard.

When we sat down and the bus pulled out, we both breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Where are we going?’ Quentin asked, tugging his hat down so no one recognised him.

I watched him, this time focusing on the cuts and scrapes on his face and body. It wasn’t so much the small wounds on the outside though. It was the look in his eyes. I knew that look.

It was the one that signalled the end of the world as you knew it. The one that meant your new reality was unfamiliar and unkind.

I blew out a breath, mad at myself, both for caring and for not caring enough. ‘We’re going to get you cleaned up,’ I responded.

Mom wasn’t home. Tonight was one of those nights where we didn’t overlap with one another. I had work until nine and she started work the same time. It was why it was one of my preferred nights for breaking and entering.

There was a note and a plate of lasagne near the oven. I wasn’t hungry, but I grabbed it, and detoured by the laundry before heading to the garage.

When I walked into my room, Quentin was sitting at my desk. His shoulders were slumped, his head hanging. When he heard me, he looked around but didn’t say a word. He hadn’t spoken since we’d first got on the bus.

He turned back to my desk and I couldn’t help noticing the blood seeping thought his shirt on his shoulder blade.

I headed to my bathroom and grabbed the supplies I’d so often needed. When I came back out, he was still in the same position. I put the first-aid kit on the bed and sat on the edge, trying to suppress the urge to just throw him out. My life was not about sharing and caring. I didn’t know the first thing about how to tackle this. And I most certainly didn’t need to feed my guilt. That was something I’d have the rest of my life for. But not now.

‘They’re dead,’ he said, breaking the silence.

I swallowed audibly. ‘Not all of them, but enough,’ I responded, wondering yet again, what I had been thinking, taking him to the clean-up.

When he didn’t say anything else, I stood and moved towards him. ‘Take your shirt off and I’ll clean your wounds.’ I tried to make it an order, but it was a pathetic attempt. Whether I wanted to or not, I felt bad.

He shrugged out of his T-shirt and I was glad he wasn’t facing me when I got a good look at his exposed back. He was so defined, his olive skin making every muscle look that much more …

I felt the air hiss into my mouth.

He heard it and stiffened.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed dramatically. For the first time that night, my hands shook as I picked up the sponge and started to clean away the blood from his shoulder. Not at all noticing the few drops of water that escaped down the deep groove of his spine.

After I dried his wound and applied some antiseptic cream, I put a square bandage on it. Neither of us spoke, and all my traitorous mind could conjure were thoughts that involved my hands exploring the details of his back.

Well, shit. I closed my eyes briefly and stepped away. ‘All done. I’m sure you can clean up the small grazes on your arms,’ I said.

He turned towards me in the chair and I had to work very hard to keep my eyes focused on his.