Pipe Dreams (11 page)

CHAPTER 21

I
n the kitchen, Jeremy mused
over a bowl of squirrel stew. The warm, flavorful broth soothed him and he savored each swallow. Until today, keeping the cell fed had been his primary objective, but now he had more pressing concerns.

He had to get the old rabbi
’s body back to the Brownstone. The weight of the day sapped him of what little energy he had and he called from where he sat, too tired to go looking for the people he needed. When they reached him, he explained his plan. They were discussing logistics when Vanessa wandered into the room. She listened for a moment before cutting him off.

“You can
’t just leave him there!”

“Yes, we can and that is exactly what we
’re going to do,” Jeremy said.

“No. I won
’t allow it. He was a rabbi for god’s sake. You can’t just drop him like garbage. He deserves better than that!”

Jeremy frowned. Though he had watched her for months, he had no idea what the effects of her trauma would be now that she was free from
NSO constraints. He worried she would end up like the other assistants he had known. Her relationship with Isaac was outside the norm and his death could send her over the edge.

“What would you suggest?” he asked.

“I don’t have a suggestion!” 

Her eyelids swollen and abundant hair tangled and flattened, Vanessa wore the events of the day in haggard lines across her face. Her body hunched into itself as if to protect against another, unexpected assault. In spite of himself, he felt a twinge of sympathy for her. She had been through hell, but was still managing to hold it together.

“Okay, Vanessa. Let’s think for a minute. What would Isaac want?” She closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was more focused.

“Ceremony. He would want some kind of ceremony.” 

Jeremy sighed. He agreed, but didn’t have the resources to do more than get the body back to where it belonged. Ramirez’s visit to the rabbi’s house might prompt further investigation now that he and Vanessa had technically disappeared. The Watch Tower would come looking for one of their own.

“I
’m sorry, Vanessa. I’d like Isaac to have that, too, but we can’t give it to him. Isaac would’ve wanted us to be smart. We can’t take any more risks tonight.”

“Then I
’m going with them.”

Jeremy argued with her, but she was adamant. “What if we give him a ceremony here, before we bring him home?” he finally suggested. Vanessa
’s expression changed from stubborn insistence to soft acceptance and she smiled.

“Thank you, Jeremy. I can live with that. Can I have a few minutes to prepare?” 

Jeremy nodded before adding, “Be as quick as you can.”  

When she had gone, Jeremy sent a woman to gather other cell members still awake. Vanessa returned swiftly. She had washed her face and pinned a white pillowcase over her hair. They formed a slow procession to the interrogation room where Isaac
’s stiffening body lay on the makeshift stretcher. A bright quilt hid his face from view.

Vanessa guided them into a circle. Then she knelt to peel back the blanket. She stroked Isaac
’s hair and kissed his wrinkled forehead. When Mariah handed her a candle stub and butane lighter, Vanessa smiled and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Lighting the candle with shaking fingers, she placed it on the floor and asked everyone to join hands. Closing her eyes, she recited, “Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam…” 

After completing the prayer, she gave a short eulogy. “Isaac Cohen was more than my friend. He was my mentor and greatest comfort. Ever since I was a little girl, Isaac has been by my side. He taught me to read and sing. He shared my laughter and sadness. No matter where I went, or what I did, Isaac was always there for me. He had a favorite poem. It
’s by Erza Pound.” She hesitated, biting her lip, and then recited, “I have tried to write paradise. Do not move…”

By the time she finished, several people were crying. Vanessa let her tears flow unimpeded as she bent to kiss Isaac again.

CHAPTER 22

On the floor of her
makeshift room, amidst tawdry blankets and pillows flattened with dirt and years, Vanessa pounded her fist into the softness of her thigh and hurled her ache at God. “Where are you? Why don’t you ever answer me? No matter how hard I scream, you never listen! I’ve tried to believe, God!  You know I’ve tried. I did it right!  I was good!  It’s not supposed to be like this!” she sobbed.

Picking up a pillow, she flung it against the curtained doorway. The cloth billowed and the pill
ow fell silently to the floor. Vanessa wanted to shatter glass, pull open her skin, and free her raging soul to wreak its wrath on the ugliness of the world

She whipped the covering from her head and pulled down her tangled hair. Cursed and alone, without the courage to meet God face to face, she was condemned to His injurious will and mocking silence. No pleading prayer or sharp insult, impotent rage or candid grief, would make Him speak to her. The secret meaning of His secret name was not enough.

“You expect me to bend down and thank you for your infinite wisdom when the only thing you’ve revealed is ’I am’? You’re a myth! How did Isaac love you? How did I love you? You don’t exist!” She stared at the wall without seeing it.

“Yahweh,” she scoffed. “I am,” she whispered. Saying it, her heart fluttered. She repeated the words with increasing volume until something in her broke. God was not talking about himself. Yahweh was not meant to mystify. Suddenly she doubled over, laughing at the cruel joke. “You had it wrong, Isaac,” she chortled between breaths. “You had it all wrong.” When her gasps finally ceased, she laid back on the blankets, staring at the high ceiling and
savoring the taste of sudden freedom. Was it possible? Had the interpretations missed so much? The revelation stunned her. All the teachings commanded followers to read the Torah and obey its laws, but never once had anyone told her that loving God meant loving herself. Closing her eyes, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Running footsteps startled her awake. She was rising when Ramirez shoved aside the curtain and burst into her room. “Vanessa, wake up,” he yelled. “You
’ve got to tell them what you know! They don’t believe me. Come on, Jeremy’s waiting for you.”  Ramirez pulled her into the corridor. Her socks slipped on the floor and he paused to steady her before urging her forward.

Jeremy sat in his usual chair in the library, surrounded by several men. A single lamp illuminated the area. When they found a spot on the couch, Jeremy asked “Is it true, Vanessa?  Are the administrators really doing this?”

The men’s acrid sweat and hungry need assaulted her. Uneasy, she shook her head to clear the fog of sleep. Jeremy furrowed his brow and pressed his thin hands against the flat of his thighs, leaning forward. She cringed against his intensity and cleared her throat, drawing courage from her recent revelation. Then she recounted her knowledge of the designers, the genetic mutation, and the culling.

“I
’ve been trying to tell you!  There’s no way those savages had access to drugs and vehicles. They’re on somebody’s payroll and I’d be willing to bet they’re working for Lewis. I’d also wager they’re not cannibals!” Ramirez blurted. Vanessa interrupted him and asked him to explain. He brought her up to speed on what had transpired and she sagged against the cushions.

“I don
’t know if this helps, but Lewis uses big, black vans to transport sick people to the Farm. Only guards from the Farm are allowed to drive them to prevent the spread of germs. Lewis is very careful about that,” she said.

“Motherfucker!” Jeremy yelled, slapping the armrest on his worn, leather chair. The smack reverberated in the air and Vanessa jumped. His action triggered a wave of nausea and she fought to control it.

“Jeremy,” Ramirez said, gesturing to her. He had seen her cowering and would be her protector.

“Shit,” Jeremy hissed.  A glimmer of frustration rippled across the sharp planes of his face as he looked at her. He shifted in his chair, crossed his legs, and ran his hands through his hair. Her nausea subsided, but she was leery. She did not know these men at all.

The men talked among themselves, trying to piece together a puzzle from the bits of information they had gleaned. Vanessa did not need to know everything to see the picture it would finally reveal. She had lived with the evil long enough to know its face. As if exalted, the administrators spoke of grace, but to her they were maggots in the mud.

Ashley would rouse the interests of the worst of them. If Vanessa
’s suspicions about the van were correct, and Ashley was in Lewis’ grasp, she did not want to imagine the girl’s rude initiation at his bequest or the tears she would shed before she learned her only defenses were laughter and death.

Vanessa rose to leave. They did not need her any longer. Conjuring Lewis and his vicious pleasures had brought the nausea back. The men fell silent as she stood. Then the basement door opened and Paul panted in its frame. He did not waste any time. In an instant he joined them in the library.

Ramirez jumped up, grabbing his arm. “What happened?  How far were you able to go?  Did you see where they went?” He fired questions like bullets and Paul went down under the attack. Sinking onto an oversized couch, he held up a hand to stop Ramirez’s volley and shook his head, trying to catch his breath. Mark dashed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. After Paul drank, he set the glass down and closed his eyes, slack-jawed and shaking. His heavy, yellow hair was wet with sweat.

He had followed the van as far as he could. When it had to circumnavigate the abandoned cars at
48th street, he thought he had a break, but after it cleared the intersection, the van sped up and disappeared into the depths of the slums. Paul knew the general direction it had taken, but didn’t know where it had gone. The heaviness of his failure was suffocating. Under its weight, Vanessa collapsed on the seat she had just vacated.

“Paul, it
’s not your fault. You did great. Nobody could have done better,” Jeremy said, rising. He limped across the carpet to a bookshelf and retrieved a thick plastic binder. Back in his chair, he opened it, extracted a folded map, and spread it open across his knees. Using his finger, he traced routes between spots marked in red.

“If you tracked them all the way to
48th Street, they’re traveling outside our neighborhood, but it’s possible someone else saw them and can tell us where they went.”  He mused for a minute before continuing.

“Chances are the van doesn
’t stay with the bone people. It would have to get back to the Zone or someone would notice its absence. Even if nobody saw where it went, someone might have seen it return. That would give us a better idea of where they took her. We need to call a meeting,” he concluded. Then he scanned the exhausted group and added, “If we’re going to find out where they took Ashley, we’re going to need some help.”

“Call a meeting with who?” Ramirez asked.

“With the other cells. There are four in neighborhoods near here.”

“Other cells?” Ramirez was baffled. Jeremy explained about the groups who had gone underground during the rebellion and Ramirez shook his head in disbelief.

“There are other places like this?”

“Well, not like this, but they have their own organizations and they
’re surviving. Or they were last time I saw them. It’s been months since the last meeting,” Jeremy replied.

He described the complicated method with which the cells contacted each other. In the morning, Jeremy would send a runner to the neighborhood of the nearest cell. Because the cells kept their homes secret even from each other, the runner would tag a building. Each cell had a specific color and symbol that identified them. They used graffiti to call meetings or warn of emergencies. The tags specified a meeting date, place, and time, but did not guarantee attendance. Though imperfect, the system kept them safe. If the
NSO was aware of their organization, another purge would be instigated.

Vanessa shuddered. The first purge had been retaliatory. After the rebellion, the
NSO sent the military into the inner-city to kill those considered capable of staging another rebellion. It was a massacre. When finally permitted to go home, she had smelled blood in the air.

Ramirez drummed his fingers on his knee. Unwilling to wait the days it would take to connect with the other cells, he argued fiercely for immediate action, painting a bleak picture of what could already be happening to Ashley.

Vanessa shook her head, but said nothing. If Ramirez knew how mild his fantasies were, he would not be arguing. He would already be gone. She ached for the missing girl, but would not speak on Ramirez’s behalf. Even with the help Jeremy sought, they wouldn’t accomplish anything. What Lewis wanted, he got.

Ramirez
’s protests were in vain. When he finally acquiesced, the air went out of him. In the low light, the dark circles under his eyes made him look old. Jeremy stood, resting his weight on the crutches. “We’ll send a runner in the morning. Right now, we all need some sleep.” He moved toward the curtains on the other side of the room. Vanessa followed, her feet shuffling wearily across the floor.