The Killing Jar (38 page)

CPI-AO-301, NEW YORK

AUGUST 30, 2232

The coordinates for the Shuttle Dock CHI-31 flashed on his tablet display. Theo had done well as a little bird, keeping him up to date on their whereabouts. In an hour, they would be back at CPI, a full day sooner than he’d thought.

With nothing to do but worry over their early return, Silas left his office and headed for the galley. Knox had a plate of caprese salad as well as little croissants with chocolate filling, smoked salmon with a champagne sauce, and stuffed mussels. “Looks great.” He patted Knox’s shoulders and made a plate.

At the usual table, Osip, Dasia, and Georgie stared in revered silence.

“Thanks, Sy. Those fishies’ll whip the bacon. How come you don’t stomp the apples no more?”

Silas sighed. He hadn’t been as involved with the newest recruits as he should have been. All his attention had been on Maggie. Maybe it was time to change that.

So Silas sat between Knox and Georgie, and started in on the smoked salmon. Earthy, acidic, rich. Knox was a master. “You’re right. It whips the bacon.”

Osip was the first to speak up, though that was no surprise. He’d been here the longest of all the new recruits. “Whoa, you speak Knox?”

The others laughed, Knox included, and Silas joined them. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed this until he was here again.

During his years at CPI, it had become increasingly clear to him that the personal element was the most important. Recruiting not only the right kids, but the right mix of kids, pairing them on meaningful teams, and giving them outlets such as the galley where they can bond and relax as a group.

That was the side of this job that Nick would never understand.

But Silas did understand. He’d merely let it slide lately. As he sat with the new recruits he barely knew, he vowed to make that change.

“How are the teams getting along?” he asked to the group.

Osip revealed his big cocky smile. “Well, D here’s got the best partner, so you know things are fabulous.”

Silas chuckled. “Oh, so you’ve found a host then?”

Osip floundered under the question. “Uh, well, thing is—”

Georgie and Dasia both burst out laughing. He’d never seen either of them look better. He laughed alongside them, pleased they were settling in.

It was like déjà vu, something he’d experienced before, but new this time. He’d sat at this same table with Knox and the latest batch of recruits, only it had been Abby, Alex, and Vince.

He shook away the memory.

“Everything okay with Jane?” he asked of Georgie.

“Yeah, she doesn’t say much. At least not to me. We’re making some progress.”

Silas nodded. “She’ll come round. Just keep trying.” Nick may love the Scholars, but Silas knew them to be a stubborn and self-righteous bunch. They were often the slowest to adjust to life at CPI. They had the hardest grip on the old class system.

Georgie nodded as if it didn’t bother him, and for all Silas knew, it probably didn’t. After a rough life on the streets, a petulant partner was the least of his problems. It made Silas like him more.

“Did Osip show you guys how to play Durak?” Silas looked about the group and, based on their expressions, he had not. Silas laughed.

Osip’s features lit up. “Oh yes! Let me get the cards. I’m going to destroy you guys. It’ll be epic.” He pushed out of his chair and jogged out the galley doors.

“No shark biscuits for me.” Knox used his tiny fork to pry the meat from yet another mussel, adding the shell to his pile.

Silas tried not to let the others see how it bothered him. He would never feel right about what happened to Knox. It was why he’d made a place for Knox here. The guy had nowhere else to go. None of them did.

While they rearranged the plates to make space for the game, Silas darted into the kitchen proper to fetch a bottle of brandy. This one, a 2038 bottle of Dewar’s, was a scotch, but that hardly mattered. Along with a bucket of ice and a rocks glass, he returned to the table where Osip already dealt the antique, faded cards.

Dasia and Georgie watched him as he poured the honey-colored scotch into his glass. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m old enough,” Georgie offered.

“Oh, I don’t care if you drink. In fact, if you’d like a drink, please have one. But this—” He turned the label toward them. “—is part of my personal collection of fine liquor. You won’t like it and you won’t appreciate it. So I won’t share it. There’s some shitty vodka in the freezer if you want.”

“Are you supposed to let us drink? I mean, isn’t this a top secret government facility and all?” Dasia asked.

Silas shrugged and answered honestly. “I don’t really care. I think if you end up here, you’ve had something happen in your life, something that burned you or scarred you so deep you’ll never fully recover. I think you’ve aged a decade for every year you’ve been alive, and for that, my friends, you’ve earned a drink.” He held up his glass in his solitary toast and took a sip.

Delicious.

“Who wants one?” Georgie asked as he pushed out of his chair.

They all did. Knox pulled the bottle from the freezer, some onion vodka from the southwest sector, while Georgie collected the glasses. Each shared Silas’s ice and made horrid faces as they tasted the harshness of the world’s worst vodka.

“I don’t know how to play,” Dasia offered.

“That’s fine, I’ll teach you. The idea is to get rid of all the cards. If you don’t, you’re the durak. And you have to take a drink.” Osip dealt the cards with a boastful, bowed-out chest. He looked ridiculous.

“Huh?” Georgie said, though he still grabbed the stack set before him.

“The
durak
. The fool.”

“Oh, no. We play to see who’s the fool? That’ll be you, Osip.” Georgie barbed.

Silas threw his head back and laughed more than he had in a good long time.

And that was that. Good food, shitty vodka, and a high-stakes card game. They were well on their way. They laughed heartily, teased each other, drank until their words ran together and their eyes glassed over.

Silas, too, was quite drunk when the galley doors burst open. Nick strode to the table with quick, angry steps. Something was wrong.

Then he remembered Maggie.

“I need to see you in my office. Now.” Silas only stared until he realized Nick meant him. The glass still in his hand, he pointed to his chest to be sure.

Silas handed his glass to Knox and stood. He buttoned his jacket closed as he followed Nick back out into the corridor. “You can’t keep doing this.” Nick whined like a parent who’d caught his daughter in the back seat of a car with a boy.

“I can and will continue to make this place a home for those kids.”

Nick spun. “They’re not kids. They’re recruits in a highly specialized facility. You can’t play drinking games in the galley!”

Mostly drunk, Silas pushed Nick against the wall harder than he meant to. “They’re kids, Nick. Not robots, not spies, not assassins. They’re kids. Scared kids who got ripped from their homes and landed here. They’re tornado debris, Nick.” Silas released him and smoothed out his jacket. “Now, what do you want to talk about?”

Nick clenched his jaw but was smart enough to hold his tongue. “Theo and Mable are back from their
undisclosed vacation
. You need to see this.”

Silas was reminded of Nick’s opinion of their departure. “See what?”

“His face.”

CPI-GALLEY, NEW YORK

AUGUST 30, 2232

Just as she’d expected, Dasia was the
durak
, the fool, though she didn’t realize the extent right away.

She lifted the revolting vodka that tasted more like magma to her lips and shot it back as fast as she could.

They tried to keep the game going after Dr. Arrenstein left so suddenly, but it wasn’t the same. No one said it, but they knew something was wrong.

Her mind swam, not the smooth, gentle whispers of anth. The vodka was as graceful as a wrecking ball. It was as if someone had come up beside her and smacked the balance and coordination right out of her.

When she set the glass back to the table, it was so sideways it fell over and rolled to the edge. Her hand lashed out but missed. Georgie was quick enough to snatch it before it rolled off the table. He handed it back and laughed.

That was the last straw for her. “Thanks guys, but I think I’m done.” Once she thought of it, she wanted little more than to lie down. Sleep would be such a relief to this chaos.

Dasia took several unsure steps to get out of her chair and hoped none of them noticed.

“Want me to walk you up?” Georgie’s eyes were barely open. He was as bad off as she was.

“No, no. I’m fine.” She waved him off.

“I’ll go. I’m headed up anyway.” Dasia was a little surprised when Osip stood and followed her out.

“I said I could take her.” Georgie stood and put his hands on the table. Still, he reeled to the side before he caught himself.

“Just sit down before you fall down.” Osip pointed a finger to the floor and Georgie collapsed back into his chair.

Dasia saw her chance to leave. “Thanks for the food, Knox. It was really great.” She tossed a sloppy arm over his shoulders and squeezed.

“Anytime, celery stick.”

Dasia smiled wide and worked her way to the galley door. She’d never felt like this, this off, this uncoordinated. Her body lurched toward the wall. She reached out a hand to steady herself but only managed to crush it under her shoulder as she staggered.

“First time with vodka?” Osip put a hand on each of her shoulders and steered her toward the elevator.

Dasia tried to nod but everything felt like it was moving. “I had a few on the shuttle,” she stammered out.

“Ah, yeah. Dr. A likes to dose up new recruits. Says it makes them more relaxed when they arrive.” Faint traces of accent pulled at his words.

Dasia pushed away from him. “I don’t need any help.”

Osip put his hand around her ribs and pulled her up straight. In her ear, he whispered, “Let me help you.”

“Fine,” she huffed. She wasn’t in the mood to argue.

Dasia stumbled and pressed her hand to his chest for support. The silk felt smooth against her palm. “Why do you always wear this thing?” she asked about his vest, though it probably sounded worse than she meant.

“I don’t know. Why not?” She could hear the laugh in his tone. “On one of my surface trips, I saw a guy wearing a suit like this. He looked pretty put together. Had a pretty girl on his arm. I figured, that must be what a guy’s gotta do, right? They said we could be anyone we wanted. This is who I picked, I guess.”

Dasia had to admire that about him, that he could change so easily, forget so easily. He was pliable where she was rigid.

Osip’s arms held her upright enough to inch toward her room. At least, that’s where she hoped they were going. “It’ll get better. It’s always rough your first time. Back home, we’d sit around and drink all night. You learn to hold your liquor after a while,” he said with a laugh.

Dasia pictured Osip in a pool of crystal clear vodka, doing the backstroke.

She didn’t want to feel like this. After weeks of sobriety, the screams of vodka were too much. Her stomach turned uncomfortably, as if she might be sick soon.

Slumped against the elevator wall, the quick rise felt like a rocket taking off. She covered her mouth with a fist.

“You all right?” Osip asked. She thought he looked concerned, but there were so many of him it was hard to tell.

Osip’s shoulder appeared beneath her as he lifted her arm over his neck to keep her up. The rocket stopped moving as the elevator beeped. The doors slid apart and Osip dragged them into the corridor toward the recruit rooms.

He brought her to a door, maneuvered it open, and pulled her into a room she recognized as her own.

Dasia realized he had played out this very scenario many times. The way he slid her arm off his shoulders to lower her to sit on the bed, the way he supported her back as he pulled her feet up on the bed. The way he lowered her down without a second’s hesitation. Osip was a professional.

“If you think you can get me drunk and—” And what? She didn’t know what he intended, but surely it was unsavory.

Osip let go of her and laughed. “If you think I need to get a girl drunk to get into her room, then you’re sadly mistaken. I’ve got plenty of game.” He continued laughing.

Guilt hit her like an arrow. “Sorry.” Her body fell, floating through the air for a long moment.

Her head hit the comforting familiarity of her pillow. “Thank you,” she breathed out.

“Sure thing, D.”

Dasia was sure she lay still as stone, but the room spun and turned like a horror vid. Osip disappeared, but she could hear glass clinking, water running, feet shuffling on the floor. She had no idea what he was doing but didn’t have energy to really care. Dasia closed her eyes to block out the motion.

When they opened again, she ached with the stiffness of sleep. It was probably a good thing, too. She felt dramatically improved from her earlier condition, though that wasn’t saying much.

Her comforter was piled on top of her oddly, and she realized she lay on one half. A glass of water rested on her metal nightstand. When she saw it, she noticed the desert in her mouth. It tasted as if she’d swallowed sand.

Dasia chugged the full glass but only felt momentary relief. She could drink a gallon.

Stepping out of bed, she knocked over the small trash can from her bathroom. It made a loud noise as it struck the tile, loud enough to startle Osip from her desk chair.

“Hey, you’re up.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“How long have you been here?” Dasia wrapped her arms around her chest. She wasn’t used to waking up with a boy in her room. Not anymore.

“I don’t know. Maybe an hour? I didn’t want you to wake up and not know where you were or something. Cheap vodka can play tricks on you if you’re not careful.” He smiled and rubbed his palms over his face. “How you feeling?”

“Terrible,” she admitted.

Osip’s smile widened. “That’s the best part about this place.” He stood up and stretched for a moment, his joints cracking after so long in the stiff chair.

“What is?”

“Come on. I’ll show you.” Osip held out his hand and helped her off the bed, though she could have managed on her own.

They waited for the elevator, and when it opened, both were shocked to see Dr. Arrenstein.

His hair was mussed and his shirt wrinkled. He leaned his back against the elevator wall with closed eyes. He looked to be in pain.

Osip laughed immediately. “Hey, Dr. A. Rough meeting?”

Dr. Arrenstein blinked wildly, wincing against the harsh light of the elevator. He looked at Osip and then Dasia, then closed his eyes and returned his head to rest against the wall. “Hello, Dasia. Privet, Osip. I haven’t gone yet and you can shut up and go to hell.”

Dr. Arrenstein’s complaints only served to spur Osip further into laughter. “You’d think an experienced alcoholic like Dr. A would be able to hold it together a little better,” he told Dasia. Turning to Dr. Arrenstein he added, “I know little girls who don’t look so bad after a few rounds.”

“Uh, I believe I told you to shut up and go to hell.” This time Dr. Arrenstein smiled a little. “I’m in a hurry. Nick wants me to see some catastrophe.”

“But you’re too drunk to deal with it right now?”

“Something like that,” Dr. Arrenstein admitted, though he didn’t seem all that ashamed.

When the elevator landed on the first floor, Osip led the pathetic pair to the cleaning station. “Want me to cue you up the usual?” he asked Dr. Arrenstein as he walked into the first room.

“Full dose, comrade,” they heard before he shut the door.

Osip laughed and shook his head. He led Dasia into the next room and instructed her to lay on the table. His hands made quick work of the controls on a panel by the door. The lights dimmed and a machine began to whir above her head.

Dasia’s heart pounded. She’d been in cleaning before, but had never seen this set up. What the hell was this thing? Her hands lashed out for the edge of the table.

“Hey, calm down, D. Just takes two minutes. Just wait.” He rested a hand on her forearm to settle her as the machine started whatever it was doing. A metal hoop appeared around her head and moved down to her toes, then back up to her head.

Dasia never felt a thing, but when the machine quieted, her mouth wasn’t as parched and her stomach didn’t ache. Her head was clear as if she’d never had a single drink.

She hopped off the table completely renewed. “That was amazing.” She felt her arms and stomach to make sure everything was still there.

“Told you.” Osip beamed.

Filing back into the hall, Dr. Arrenstein emerged similarly replenished. He pointed a finger at Osip. “This never happened, clear?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Osip smiled before adopting a blank, blinking stare and innocent shrug.

Dr. Arrenstein looked at Dasia and smiled. “You did good, kid. I’m proud of you.” Then he walked down the hall and returned to the elevator.

Dasia only stared. What the hell was that supposed to mean?