Extraction (27 page)

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I doubt you wanted to hear all that.”

“I don’t mind.” I fiddle with my hands in my lap. I’ve been so preoccupied by my troubles down here that I forgot how much worse it is up there.

“You remind me so much of someone I knew when I was younger,” Beechy says. His eyes flicker with emotion, watching me.

A strange tightness tugs at my chest. He said that before, the first time he saw me.

“Really?”

He nods. His voice quiets when he talks again: “I think I was seven, and she was maybe fourteen. She protected me for a little while, when things got bad. She was brave like you. And she had your hair.” He runs his fingers through his own hair, and sighs. “She became pregnant—maybe from one of the other kids, maybe from an official. I don’t know. She kept it hidden for a long time. I think she persuaded some people to keep it quiet … but I found her dead one night, shoved halfway inside a trash chute.”

Sorrow flickers across his face. “Her baby was in the chute with her, already born, and still alive, but barely. There was an older boy with me when I found her, and he saved the baby. I think he snuck her into the sanitarium somehow.”

I know what he’s thinking—that her baby was me. Babies are transferred from one outer sector to another sometimes, after all. Whenever they’re born, they’re taken to where they’re needed.

I can’t breathe right, but I manage to swallow. “Beechy, that doesn’t … Just because you knew some girl who had hair like mine and she had a baby doesn’t mean the baby grew up to be me.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I, uh…” He averts his gaze, and his cheeks flush red. “I checked your records. I have access to the citizen registrar system, and I found out your birth history and the names of your parents.”

I stare at him. “You
what
?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked for your permission. But I had to know if I was right.” His hand finds mine. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

But it’s not that he did it without my permission. It’s not even that he found out the names of my parents.

It’s that they have names. They’re real people. I’ve always known that, of course, but it never felt true until now.

“And…” I swallow. “What did you find out?”

Beechy waits a moment to answer. “I was right. Your mom gave birth to you in Mantle.”

I nod. But my throat thickens as I remember Beechy’s story. I’ve never imagined my mother’s death before, but if I had, I wouldn’t have imagined one like that. I blink several times because my eyes start to water. It’s silly, really. She’s been dead for a long time. But I can’t help it.

I swallow again, harder this time. “What was her name?” I ask.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“I think so.”

“It was Mae.”

“Mae.” I try the word out on my tongue. I can’t tell if it feels right or not. I have no picture of her to match the name with. “What’s my father’s name?”

“It wasn’t in your records,” Beechy says. “They could’ve done a DNA match to figure out who it was, but it looks like they didn’t. Or if they did, it’s in some other area of the records I don’t have access to.”

A horrible thought rushes through me: What if my father is one of the officials in the Surface camp? Beechy said it could’ve been an official, if it wasn’t one of the boys in Mantle. And he might’ve been transferred to a different sector. He might even be here in the Core.

“Listen, it doesn’t matter who your father is or was,” Beechy says, slipping his fingers into the spaces between mine. “Your mother was wonderful, I can assure you. And
you
are wonderful.”

I laugh a little.

“I mean it.” He reaches out and touches my cheek, and lifts my head so it’s no longer resting against my knee. I have no choice but to look at him. “You’re alive, and that’s all that matters,” he says. “I’m going to keep you safe for her. I promise.”

I breathe in and out, focusing on the warmth of his hand against my skin. He’s right; there are things to be happy about. I’m alive and safe. Logan isn’t dead.

But I think of him again, and of what happened inside Phantom, and I can’t stop my heart from tightening in my chest. The Logan I met during the test wasn’t real, but what if he had been?

Would I have killed him to save myself?

23

The New Citizen Ceremony begins after breakfast the next morning.

We stand in a gray room connected to the Pavilion where I shot an Unstable my first night here. I glimpse the viewing pods through a doorway at the back of the room, but Commander Charlie stands there, blocking it. Two Developers stand on either side of him. To their left and right, Colonel Parker and six other colonels are present. They wear full black armor and carry their helmets under their arms.

The gray walls are mostly bare, but the Core flag covers half of one. My eyes go to the words in the silver circle between the blue and black stripes:
INVENTION. PEACE. PROSPERITY
.

Oliver stands on my left, and Ariadne stands on my right. They both passed the test. Everyone passed.

My palms sweat, even though I have nothing to be afraid of anymore. Because my work isn’t finished yet. I still have to gain an audience with Commander Charlie. I still have to convince him to save Logan.

“Congratulations, new citizens,” he says as we stand before him. “We thank you for your hard work in training, and for your continued devotion to our cause. Please come forward.”

We form a line and approach him. I try to keep my face normal. I watch him and the other Developers greet each person ahead of me, one at a time.

Then it’s my turn.

I shake hands with the first Developer, the only female. The skin is tight around her eyes. “Congratulations,” she says, touching my hand only lightly.

I shake hands with the second Developer, the youngest, though he’s still much older than me. A dark-skinned male with a subtle trembling in his fingers. “Congratulations,” he says.

I step past him, my heart thudding. Commander Charlie’s eyes look into mine, and his thin lips stretch into a wide smile. “Ah, here she is,” he says. “Ms. Clementine. Congratulations on your citizenship.”

He offers a gloved hand. I take it, noticing he wears a small golden lapel pin of a moon on his suit jacket. “Thank you, sir.” I manage to smile back.

“I look forward to your career decision,” he says, and pulls his hand away.

He’s already looking to the next Extraction, but I can’t help the relief that runs through me, untwisting the knots in my stomach. He knows who I am. He looks forward to my career choice.

Maybe getting the chance to work with him won’t be so hard.

*   *   *

Cadet Waller says there’s one other part to the ceremony. She leads us to a room in Training Division with soft blue benches and a silver door at the back.

“Have a seat,” she says. “We’ll call you through the door in the order in which you passed the test, starting with the last person and moving backward to the first.”

She calls the first name.

Ariadne slips her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder. Oliver sits to my right, twisting his hands in his lap. His glasses are a bit more cracked after last night, after whatever he did to survive in Phantom.

“What if they do something to us?” he says. “Give us drugs, or something? I’m scared they’re going to mess everyone up again, like they did in the intelligence hubs.”

“They’re not,” Ariadne says. “They didn’t do anything in the first place.”

“You don’t even remember,” Oliver says.

“Exactly. So it never happened.”

“Because that’s the logical conclusion—”

“Don’t.” I reach for Oliver’s hand. “Please don’t argue. We’re safe now, remember? We passed the test.” I tell him that, but I feel a bit queasy. We still don’t know why they gave us the hub gas, after all. Or even what it was.

“I hope you’re right,” he says, pulling his hand away.

He’s the next one called through the silver door.

Ariadne is called soon after. She slips her arm out of mine. “See you soon,” she says with a smile.

I smile back. “See you.”

I was the first to pass the test, so I’m soon left waiting alone. I cross my legs on the bench, close my eyes, and listen to the room around me. There is silence, except for the low hum of the lights. No screams outside, no buzzing cam-bots, no pounding feet.

I think I could get used to this, while I work to befriend Charlie and convince him to transfer Logan here. I’ll find a way, but it’s like Beechy said, there’s time for that. I’m ready to live without worrying every day.

The silver door opens, and Cadet Waller appears. She gives me a curt smile. “We’re ready for you,” she says.

I slide off the bench and follow her. Through the door, she points me into a small room with hooks on the walls and a clothing slot like the one in my bedroom.

“If you’ll please change out of your suit and into the outfit that comes out of the slot. As soon as you do, the next door will open.” She glides out of the room, her smile looking like she had it cosmetically plastered to her face.

I unzip my leather suit. The fabric is soft and stretchy, and I slip out of it easily. I press the button on the slot and change into the clothes that slide out of it: a plain tank top and a pair of shorts more like underwear. They don’t cover much of me, but the air is warm.

I take a deep breath and stand in front of the next silver door.

After a moment, it slides open. I step forward.

Two figures block my path. Two women with the same blue eyes and black curls, wearing surgeon coats and caps.

My stomach clenches—

squeezes—

drops two stories.

“Hello there! It’s good to see you again.” Nurse One smiles at me, while Nurse Two slips her fingers around my wrist and pulls me into the room. It’s a round examination room with blue lights and a white reclining chair.

I must be dreaming, because this can’t be happening again. I’m supposed to be finished with metal hubs, Unstables, and examination rooms.

But I notice one good thing: There aren’t any metal tables or drip bags with blood and clear liquids. Still, I can’t help saying, “Could you please tell me what I’m doing here?”

“You’re here for a quick and easy examination,” Nurse One says. “It’s a standard procedure for all citizens, designed to check you once a month and make sure you’re safe, happy, and healthy.”

“The doctor will be here in a minute,” Nurse Two says, guiding me into the chair.

I lean into the mesh and press a palm to my flip-flopping stomach. This isn’t anything to worry about. This is standard, an examination, not another operation.

“Good morning.” The doctor whistles as he enters the room, making four taps on his tablet before handing it to Nurse Two. He flashes a smile. “How are you today, Clementine? Promising, eh?” He laughs. “This is nothing to worry about, I assure you. First, I’m going to do some quick checks to make sure you’re healthy.” He rolls up his coat sleeves to sanitize his hands in the sink. “Nothing to worry about, like I said.”

“I’m not worried.” I’m afraid I say it a tad fast.

“Well, of course not. That would be silly.” Nurse One hands him a stethoscope from a hook on the wall. He sticks the ear tips into his ears, and presses the silver disk to my chest. “If you’ll take a deep breath for me.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Perfect.”

Nurse Two taps on the tablet keypad. Nurse One takes the stethoscope from the doctor and hands him a small monitor, from which he pulls three multicolored wires with small cups on the ends. “I’m going to take a reading of your brain waves, Clementine. It’s quick and easy. Nothing to worry about.”

I wish he’d stop saying that.

I fold my hands in my lap. He dabs dots of a sticky material onto my forehead, then presses the electrodes to my skin. His fingers fiddle with the knobs on the monitor.

There’s silence in the room, apart from a soft whir from the monitor.

“Perfect.” He pulls off the electrodes, and Nurse One puts the monitor away. I wonder what sort of reading I gave him, and why he needs it.

He claps his hands together. “That’s all for today, except for your injection, which the nurses will administer before you move through the next door to learn about your career choices. Quick and easy, eh? Do you have any questions for me?”

“An injection?” I repeat, digging my nails into my legs.

“The nurses will explain. Okay? Great. I’ll be off, then.” He gives me one more smile, then leaves me alone with the nurses.

Nurse Two sets her tablet aside and begins sanitizing her hands.

“This will be quick,” Nurse One assures me, wrapping a tight strip of latex around my upper arm.

“What is it?” I say.

“A little injection all citizens of the Core receive once a month.”

Nurse Two scrubs with foam for what must be a full minute until she’s satisfied. After snapping on gloves, she reaches for an object sitting in a rectangular tin on the counter, beside jars of cotton balls.

She turns enough so I can see what she’s holding.

The needle is long and thick, protruding from an orange syringe. This must be the injection Cadet Waller showed me on the day of the Extraction test.

My sweaty palms grip the armrests. Nurse Two touches the needle tip to my shoulder, and I flinch. Her lips form a small frown, but she doesn’t stop. She pushes the needle through my skin. There’s a sharp jab of pain.

“I’m sorry, what’s this for?” I ask.

“We live in close quarters in this sector,” Nurse One says, setting a hand on my other shoulder. “There’s a high risk for spreading disease, so inventors developed a serum to protect against it. Everyone receives this once a month.”

Nurse Two presses the plunger, sending a stream of orange liquid into my arm. It rushes through my veins, up my shoulder, toward my pounding heart.

She removes the needle. Nurse One places a small, round piece of gauze over the spot.

“Quick and easy,” she repeats.

I smile vaguely. My hands shake. I swear I can feel the liquid trickling through my temple but that’s impossible. I must be imagining it.