Rite of Rejection (Acceptance Book 1) (17 page)

Nineteen

Leaving me here would be a mercy, but apparently the Cardinal doesn’t believe in it. At least, not for me. This morning, a guard came in and sprayed me down with the same disinfectant from the dining hall. He also brought a bucket of water. I waited for him to leave, but I’m not to be trusted, even with cleaning myself. He stood silently while I used the thin rag to wipe the layers of dirt and grease off my arms and legs.

The water was brown with my filth, but I kept dipping the rag in and wiping what I could from my neck, face, feet. I wanted to strip off my dress and wash my back. A small contingency of insects live in my mattress and my back is a favorite snacking spot. But I couldn’t bear the thought of stripping down in front of the guard. After all this time I can still hear my mother’s voice warning me to maintain decorum.

It seems like a laughable idea given the fact that I was giving myself a sponge bath in a guarded jail cell. I guess I have to hold on to the few things I have left in this world.

After my bath, the same barber from the night I arrived in the PIT came in to cut my hair. It had grown down past my ears in the time I’ve been in Quarantine. Now the short curls are flat against my head again.

I’ve just changed into a new dress that yet another guard brought a few minutes ago. At least he didn’t wait to make sure I changed. The clean clothes are a blessing to my chafed skin. I can almost pretend I’m me again, except I’m not sure I can remember who that is anymore.

This dress has long, itchy, wool sleeves and a high collar. We’ve been here longer than I thought.

Footsteps click outside and pause right in front of my door. As always, the steady staccato beep of the card reader gives me a few seconds of warning that the door is about to open. I’m ready when the windowless metal slides open, but nothing prepared me for this.

Eric is there, a calm, non-expression on his face. I can’t think. I’m in his arms in a second. My tears dried up ages ago, so I’m left with empty, wracking sobs that drive my shoulders into his red-clad chest. I bury myself into him and breathe in the scent of aftershave and coffee.

A gut reaction pulls me back. Eric shouldn’t smell like coffee. He should smell like sweat and grease. But he doesn’t. Eric smells good and his hair is combed to the side where it’s growing back.

“I don’t… Eric, what’s going on?”

“Your Quarantine sentence is up. You’re being sent back into the PIT.” His voice is slow and emotionless, like he’s explaining something very basic to a child. He reaches out for my elbow, but I jerk it back out of his touch.

“Why are you wearing a uniform? Where are the others?” The door of my cell slides shut behind me and I flatten against it, the zipper of my clean dress stabbing into my backbone.

A hulking guard steps out from around the corner. “Is there a problem with the prisoner?”

“No, I’m just escorting her out.” Eric waves the guard off and we both watch as he heads back to wherever he came from. “Becca, please don’t make this harder than it has to be. If you fight me they might make you stay in Quarantine.”

I laugh, an emotionless puff of air that makes my chest heave with the effort. “Do you really think I care? They could leave me here forever.”

“You don’t mean that,” Eric says, reaching for me again. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t touch me. No, you…you never touch me again.” My head is dizzy. I haven’t stood for this long in ages. The events of that night so long ago play in a loop in my head. There’s only one explanation that makes sense now. “It was you. You told them we were leaving.”

Eric lays his hands on my shoulders, as if his touch can calm me.

“No,” I scream at him dashing a few feet down the sterile hallway and using up all my remaining energy. My voice comes out in squeaks. “You sold us out to the Cardinal. It was you. You did this.”

Eric reaches out to pick me up from where I’ve collapsed on the cold, tile floor, but I refuse to cooperate. He lifts me onto his shoulders and my fists beat limply against his back. “Why? Why did you do it? How? Your family?”

He doesn’t answer me and I don’t have any more strength to fight him. His arms are tight on my waist but not rough. We walk down several hallways, until a soft beep signals an opening door.

Eric sets me down and I’m instantly blinded by the bright rays of daylight.

“Go back to the PIT, Becca. Go live your life and forget about me. Forget about outside.”

The door slides shut and I’m alone.

It was summer when I last saw the sun, but there is nothing left of that warmth. The dirt beneath my thin shoes is frozen and a biting wind stings my bare legs.

My eyes adjust to the light and familiar surroundings come into focus. The cold glass-and-metal structure of the Admin building is straight ahead, about a hundred yards away. To the right of it is the dining hall. I have no idea if a meal is being served, but at least I can find some warmth there.

My legs don’t want to move. I want my thin mattress in a bare cell, and a dirty dress and to travel back to an hour ago, when the worst thing I could imagine was that Eric wasn’t sent to Quarantine because they killed him, instead. I can’t have that, any of that. I could lay down here. And in the morning, the red-clad guards who walk the halls of Quarantine without ever saying a word will find the bony frame of a girl, frozen in front of the door.

That’s what I want to do, but I can’t do that, either. I can’t give the Cardinal, or the guards, or Eric, the satisfaction of one less prisoner to worry about. I can’t lie down and not know what happened to the others. Daniel, Elizabeth and Molly might already be in the dining hall and I need to see them. I need to see that the sickening crunch I heard was a boot coming down on a crate and not the smashing of bones.

One foot trudges in front of the other until enough footsteps take me to the dining hall. The only people inside are the old men that never seem to leave, but they’re still handing out watery bowls of soup for lunch.

I need to find the others, but I won’t make it far without eating something first. It’s a struggle to get the soup down. I have to chew every overcooked piece of vegetable down to mush to keep from being sick. My stomach threatens revolt with every bite. It doesn’t know what to do with so much food.

An older man shuffles by the table. I recognize him from my first week in the PIT. I needed answers and he’d been here so long. What was it he told me? “Ya never see ‘em comin’.” He’s smarter than I gave him credit for.

I push my bowl away. Only half the broth is gone, but I can’t force any more down. The urge to lay my head on the greasy table is calling to me. I have to get up or I’ll spend all day here.

Outside, the sun is still high in the sky, but none of its warmth reaches me here in the PIT. I wrap my arms around my rail-thin torso, but only get a few steps. A blast of freezing wind pushes me back to the door.

“Rebecca?” Like a welcome shadow in the too-bright sunlight, Daniel is in front of me, opening the door and guiding me back to an empty table. This is Daniel, but not the one I know. The light is gone from behind his eyes. It’s like staring into two black holes. This, this deadness staring back at me from a face that held so much life, is what breaks the final piece that was holding me together.

I draw my knees up under my chin and wrap my arms around the bones of my legs. The rocking keeps me from screaming. I’m going to become the crazy lady who walks the alleys at night, looking for a family she lost a lifetime ago.

Daniel says nothing. He lets one hand rest on my knee and waits for me.

I can breathe again, and the questions come. “Do you know about Eric?”

Daniel nods. “He let me out a few minutes ago.” For a split second, life flashes behind his eyes, cold and angry, before disappearing back down into the place where I can only hope a small part of the old Daniel lives. “He tried to talk to me, but I wouldn’t let him. He doesn’t deserve a chance to ease his mind.”

“What about Elizabeth, Molly?”

“I don’t know about anyone else. I saw you and came over. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

“Do you think we can go back to the bunkhouse? Do you think they’ll be there?” I wince at the undisguised hope in my voice. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the PIT, it’s that hope will kill you here.

“Let’s go.” Daniel holds out a hand. His presence gives me the extra bit of strength I need to get up and keep moving.

Outside, the dirt roads are covered in a light frost and we pass no one as we trudge along them. From the outside, the bunkhouse looks the same as it did the day we all stood inside and said a silent good-bye we hoped we didn’t need.

Elizabeth’s red-rimmed eyes stare at us as we walk through the door. She’s alone in the nearly empty room, and it’s clear she’s been crying into the thin pillow. I’ve never seen her cry before. It’s like we’ve all been broken open, emptied out, and filled back in with doppelgangers that aren’t sure how they’re supposed to act.

Elizabeth sits up, but doesn’t bother to wipe away her tears. “Eric?”

I nod. She’s not asking if he’s okay, but if we’ve seen him. If we know he’s the traitorous backstabber who stole our chance at freedom.

“Molly?” Daniel’s word is quiet, like a whisper he’s afraid to say.

Elizabeth implodes, crumpling in on her diminished frame until she’s nothing more than a ball of fabric and cropped blonde hair. She isn’t crying; she’s howling like a wounded animal.

Daniel is at her side in an instant, but his words of comfort don’t seem to penetrate her cocoon.

I don’t make it to a bed. My legs crumple underneath me as the weight of Elizabeth’s cries pound against my head. And then I can’t hear her anymore. Over and over again, I hear Molly crying out and the wet, crunching sound that silenced her.

It’s too much for my agitated stomach. I crawl back over to the door and stick my head out to retch. Molly, sweet Molly, who rarely spoke, but always gave kindness. Who taught me how to stitch a button and could calm Elizabeth with one touch when no one else could reach her. Molly is gone.

Molly is dead and Eric is a Cardinal guard. And the three of us are left out here in the emptiness of what used to be a home. This is the end of the things we used to consider good.

I pull my head back inside, but Elizabeth is still crying and it’s more than I can take. I force myself back out the door. The cold wind is a welcome relief against my hot skin. In minutes I’m numb, which is so much better than feeling.

Outside, I sit in silence for hours and watch the sun make its steady descent toward the earth. No one wants to be out in the dark and cold except me. The sun is nothing more than a deep-purple haze on the horizon. Daniel pulls me back inside and lays me down on one of the beds. The only sound is the steady wind whipping between the buildings and the childlike whimpers of Elizabeth.

Twenty

Elizabeth walks with a purpose down the dirt path. Our feet crunch on the heavy layer of frost that coats everything. It shimmers in the early morning sunlight, casting the concrete buildings in glittery shades of red and orange. I might call it pretty if it wasn’t the PIT. But it is.

We’re farther north than I’ve been before, but considering our destination, I’m not surprised. No one would have thought to include the cemetery as a tour stop.

It’s not really a cemetery. Even on the outside no one buries the dead anymore. Back home the memorial wall is set up right next to the Airbus station. Row upon row of orderly names are inscribed in the shiny black surface. I doubt the PIT has a memorial wall.

Behind another row of houses, the buildings stop and a frosty white field stretches out in front of us all the way to the fence. There isn’t anything here. Maybe Elizabeth isn’t thinking straight and brought us to the wrong place.

I follow her through the field and one by one small cairns of stones pop up around us. Nothing designates one small pile from the next other than the slight differences in shape and size of the rough stones. I understand. The people who lived here long before us chose this as the place to remember the dead the best they could.

Elizabeth is silent as she bends down to collect several small stones. I pick up a small, grey rock by my feet, but let it fall back through my fingers. She didn’t put up a fight when I asked to come with her this morning, but this is still her journey. Elizabeth will want to hand-pick each of the rocks for Molly’s memorial.

With arms full of round, white stones, she kneels down and piles them up, one by one. I feel silly standing there, watching her. Molly and I weren’t close, but I need to do something to help honor her.

Crouching down between the piles of stones I pick up handfuls of fallen leaves and twigs that cover the ground. After several trips of dumping the frozen clutter several yards away, Elizabeth is almost finished with the pyramid of stones.

She picks up the last rock and brushes away any trace of remaining dirt before setting it in place on top of the small stack. I stare down at the pile. It doesn’t come close to good enough for Molly.

But perhaps this is better than a name on a wall that some nameless Cardinal employee stamps on without caring about the person whose life is represented by the small, even letters. I think Molly would have liked this; something simple, yet beautiful, and made with our hands.

The tears fall down Elizabeth’s cheeks and she wipes them away with the back of her hand, but she can’t keep up with the steady flow. Drops fall faster and faster until she’s sobbing, her damp hands clawing at the dirt.

Elizabeth’s strong frame shakes with her cries and the raw emotion tears at me. I stay away, wrestling with my own emotions. I want to cry for Molly, too, but it feels selfish. Like my tears would intrude on Elizabeth’s mourning.

She’s just as weak as I am from our months in Quarantine so it doesn’t take long for exhaustion to overcome her and silence her cries.

“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.” My foot taps out a nervous rhythm on the cold ground. “I know the two of you were close.” My words sound empty in the odorless winter air, but they’re all I have to offer her.

“Close?” Elizabeth rocks backs from her crouch and sits down on the newly cleared ground. “Molly and I weren’t close. She was everything. The Cardinal didn’t just take my best friend. He ended the love of my life.”

My foot freezes mid tap.

“You didn’t think I was in here for something stupid like hating the Cardinal, did you?” She gives me a half smile, but it doesn’t last. “I always knew I’d end up here. The Cardinal would never let someone like me run loose in society, causing a ruckus by kissing girls.”

She pats the ground next to her and I sit, still stunned by her revelation.

“That first year was…” She shivers, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the cold. “I lost count of the times I thought about just lying down in a bunkhouse until dehydration and starvation took me. Then I walked into the dining hall one day and found Molly. She gave me a reason to wake up each morning.”

“I thought you and Daniel…”

She laughs, and this time it’s genuine. “We found Daniel a few weeks later sitting at dinner talking about an old radio he found. He was smart and didn’t make a face when I held Molly’s hand. He rounded out our little group, but was never more than a replacement little brother.”

“I guess that makes sense then. I always thought it was strange that you guys never kissed.”

“Oh, wait until I tell Daniel you said that,” Elizabeth says, slapping her leg and exhaling one big guffaw of laughter. “Why did you think we were together?”

“Eric told me.”

Saying his name out loud brings the reason for our trip back to the present. If Eric hadn’t betrayed us, Molly would still be alive.

“Yeah, well, turns out Eric is a much better liar than I ever gave him credit for.”

It’s peaceful out here, surrounded by little piles of rocks; physical reminders that even in the PIT there’s still love. The harshness that usually lurks behind Elizabeth’s words is diminished by the atmosphere surrounding the cemetery. This is probably my only chance to ask her the question that’s been sitting in the back of my head since my first day in the PIT.

I keep my eyes focused on a blurry point in the distance. I won’t be able to ask my question if I have to face her. “Why don’t you like me?”

“I like you.” Her response is too fast and we both know it for the lie it is. An uneasy silence settles around the mini memorials and we both huddle against the cold that goes deeper than the wintery breeze.

“I didn’t want to be friends with you.” Elizabeth’s words sound like a reluctant confession. “I was so mad at Daniel for bringing you to our bunk that morning. The last thing we needed was a Goody Two-shoes running around. I thought for sure you’d fail the scavenger hunt.”

I pull my arms tighter around me. I don’t know if she’s looking at me or not, but I don’t have the guts to check. “If this is your way of telling me you don’t hate me, you’re not doing a very good job.”

Elizabeth sighs and from the rustle of fabric I can tell she’s turned toward me. “It’s not that I didn’t like you. I mean, I’m not gonna lie; you weren’t my favorite person, but I didn’t really have anything against you personally.”

“Wow, stop,” I tell her, my voice flat as I turn to meet her weary eyes. “I don’t want all your praise to go to my head.”

“I thought you were a liability,” Elizabeth, says ignoring my sarcastic comments. “I knew I could trust Daniel and Molly. Eric, he’s my brother, why wouldn’t I trust him?” She presses her eyes closed for the length of a heartbeat. “But you were just some girl who thought too much and got herself thrown in the PIT. For all I knew, you still thought the sun shines out of the Cardinal’s rear end. I was afraid you’d turn us in.”

“Well, that worked out great, didn’t it?”

“And I kick myself every night. Over and over, I run through those days leading up to our escape. I knew Eric was acting funny, but I thought it was nerves. I wrote it off as nothing, because I trusted him. Instead of picking up on the real reason behind his behavior, I watched you like a hawk.”

“Why? What did I do to make you not trust me?”

“Nothing, and that was the problem.” Elizabeth dips her head, her grief an actual weight bearing down on her. “You did everything we asked you to do. You never questioned the plan, never doubted it would work.”

“Because I trusted you.”

She lifts her eyes to meet my own. “Why?”

“What was my alternative?” I shrug and pull my knees tighter to my chest. “It was clear on day one I wouldn’t survive in here alone. I could either trust you and go along with the plan or let the PIT eat me alive.”

“Too bad trusting me didn’t keep the PIT from chewing us all up.” Her head droops to her knees, leaving her exposed, weak. Strong and confident Elizabeth, reduced to a ball of self-doubt and regret, and all because of him.

I jump up, my fists clenched against a sudden anger that boils up in me. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you even think about putting the blame for what happened on you.”

“Becca, I—”

“No.” My muscles are still weakened from months of atrophy inside Quarantine, but I have enough strength to push Elizabeth’s shoulders until she’s lying flat on her back against the cold ground.

She pushes herself off the ground and I brace myself, ready for her to fight back. Her jaw is locked in a grimace and she glares at me from two angry slits that hide her blazing blue eyes.

“The guilt is Eric’s. He owns it all on his own and I won’t let you go on thinking you share any part of it with him.”

Her muscles relax by a fraction and she nods her head, a silent agreement to leave her guilt behind. Elizabeth kisses the tips of her fingers and leans over to touch them softly to the cold rocks marking a beautiful life lost forever. “Let’s go.”

The sun is higher in the sky on our walk back and the PIT stirs to life around us with people making their way to breakfast. I try not to think about Eric, but every word he ever said runs on a continuous loop through my head. How much of what he told me was a lie? All of it? Did he really love me or was that just another part of his deception?

Inside the dining hall, I follow Elizabeth through the line and we find Daniel among the crowded tables. His eyes follow every move Elizabeth makes, probably gauging her for another breakdown.

“Stop staring at me.” She hits her bowl down on the table, but not hard enough to splash out any of her burnt oatmeal. “I’m fine now, I promise. Molly would want me to keep going. Now let’s talk about something else.”

I should keep my mouth shut, but the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Why would Eric ask me to marry him if he was going to turn us in?”

Daniel chokes on his lumpy breakfast. It takes several minutes and an entire cup of brackish water to bring his coughing under control. He rubs at his throat and raises a single eyebrow at me. “Way to ease into the conversation.”

“Sorry, it’s just something you said earlier.” I turn on the bench to face Elizabeth. “What you said about Eric being a good liar.”

“And now you want to know if he was lying about his feelings for you.”

I nod. I can’t explain why I care. It’s actually a bit of a relief to not have him at my side every minute. I don’t have to smile and pretend that his touch brings me comfort instead of confusion. And yet, no one has ever taken an interest in me like that before. What if the whole thing was an act?

“I think Eric loved you in the only way Eric knows how.” Elizabeth’s voice is resigned. This is a truth she’s come to accept, but she doesn’t like it. “He loved you for the Becca he thought you could be; the life he imagined he’d have with you. But you didn’t love him.”

Elizabeth and Daniel stare at me, waiting on the confession I thought I kept hidden from everyone. “No.”

“I could tell the fake marriage was bothering you. Something more than just the rushed timeline.” Elizabeth leans forward, letting her forehead rest in the palm of her hands. “I told Eric you seemed uneasy. Thought it might help you adjust better if your marriage felt more real. An engagement sounded like the perfect solution for both of you.”

I can’t blame her. She did what she thought was best. Eric made his choices and there’s nothing any of us could have done to change who he is. The best thing for all of us is to forget what happened and move on. Whatever that looks like. “So now what?”

Daniel swings his legs over the bench and stands up stretching. “Now nothing, we keep going.”

“You mean, we try again?” I ask, following him out into the cold morning air.

“No, not that.” Daniel slashes his arms through the air with finality and keeps walking. “I mean we just live.”

I rush to catch up with him. “But why? Why can’t we try again?” I know it’s not the same, but there has to be more than one way to get out of here.

Daniel turns and wraps his hands around my shrunken arms, his grip a little too tight. I grimace and he lets go, shoving his hands in his pockets. “They’ll never even let us get close, Rebecca. By now, we’re tagged and red-flagged in every file the Cardinal has. All of our supplies are gone and we’re surely blacklisted from getting another job that might give us access to what we need.”

I turn around to Elizabeth. Molly wouldn’t want her to give up, but one shake of her head tells me she sides with Daniel. “He’s right, Becca. I hate the idea of giving up, but what choice do we have? I’m not losing anyone else. I can’t. Every day is precious and I won’t waste any more living in a daydream of escape.”

“But we can’t stop.” I reach for Daniel’s arm, but he pulls back from me. “Please, if we just—”

“Stop it, Becca.”

Daniel always calls me Rebecca. The sound of it rolls from his lips to tingle down my spine. My nickname, the one Eric used, doesn’t roll. It spits from his mouth and knocks against my gut like a sucker-punch.

In his eyes, I can see it. All the driving force that pushed him to hack into the Cardinal’s network and create new lives for us is gone. We aren’t going anywhere.