The Line Book One: Carrier (6 page)

“I can’t do it.” I took a step backward. “I can’t. Shirel, you don’t understand what it’s like in there. What they made me do. What if they won’t let me back out?”

Shirel set her jaw and grabbed my elbow, dragging me into the reception area. I stifled a scream.

The same reception nurse from before sat behind her desk, the phone cord dangling from her earlobe.

The smell of antiseptic from the infirmary, just behind the stainless steel door behind the desk, burned the inside of my nostrils.

The humidity in the air saturated my skin.

In the waiting area, three men in folding chairs held application tablets in their hands, trying to look as if they belonged but failing miserably.

The sight of them loosed a whimper from my mouth.

Perverts.

“Evie,” Shirel reminded me. “We’re here for Evie.” She dragged me past the men and to the receptionist, who was typing like there was no tomorrow.

My eyes found the manager’s door behind her. It was slightly ajar. Deceivingly warm light emanated from the doorjamb.

“May I help you?” the receptionist asked, not without attitude.

“Did a little girl just come in here?” Shirel blurted.

The receptionist blinked. Her crisp white uniform was pressed firm and she had obviously just eaten her breakfast because she had food in her teeth. “I’m sorry?” Her eyes stayed with Shirel, and it occurred to me that she may recognize me.

Did that matter?

“You deaf?” Shirel spat. “I asked if a little girl just came in here asking to go on the Line.” She certainly had a way with people.

The receptionist stiffened. “Are you a relative of this girl?”

I snapped back to reality enough to realize where this was going. “Y-yes.”

Shirel was confused but had the good sense to cover it quickly.

“She’s my little sister,” I said, “and I revoke her admission. We no longer wish to sell her to the Line.”

One of the men in the waiting area noisily dropped his application to the floor. All eyes went to him. He turned ashen. He was out the door like a shot.

“Right, Mom?” I nudged Shirel.

“Right,” Shirel said after a brief pause.

The receptionist produced a black palm scanner from behind her desk. She patted the tight bun on the back of her head with her other hand. “Identification, please?”

Shit.

I pulled Shirel by the sleeve, moving her behind me.

The receptionist squinted at me as I did this. Maybe she did recognize me.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” I said, eyeing the manager’s open door. “We do not wish to sell her. Please bring her out!”

I heard the front door open and noticed that the rest of the applicants had vacated the waiting room.

Good.

“Without proof of identification, we cannot release any occupants of the Line to
anyone
,” the nurse said. “Including people claiming to be members of her family. I’m sure you understand. It’s for the girls’ safety.”

I scoffed.

Shirel cleared her throat and with the slightest motion of her head, signaled we should leave.

I had other ideas.

I ran—around the receptionist’s desk and behind, bursting through the manager’s open door. The receptionist screamed for security, and I heard Shirel pounce on her with a growl.

Inside the office was the good-looking man with the extra-wide smile. He was seated on his leather couch, wearing a different suit and tie. Across from him, in the overstuffed chair, sat Evie.

The man got to his feet and was about to scurry out the door behind his desk when he recognized me and stopped.

Evie gushed relief. “Oh, Naya. This was such a mistake!” She stood and ran to me.

“Naya!” the man proclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

Evie wrapped her little arms around my waist. I patted her back.

“Did you convince Evie to come here?” he asked me.

“No.”

He pursed his lips with mock disappointment. Luckily, Evie didn’t notice.

“He kept asking me all these strange questions about Mr. Coleworth and what he made me do,” she said. She was crying now and seemed so young.

I shot the man a look of disgust and to my surprise he appeared defensive.

“Standard entry questions,” he explained. “To assess her level.”

Such an asshole.

I knew “levels” determined how far an appointment could go with a girl. Not that it ever stopped them from doing whatever they wanted anyway.

“She won’t be staying,” I said. I could hear Shirel shouting and fighting with security in the reception area.

“How unfortunate, for you,” he said.

I gritted my teeth.

“Evie just told me all about you, Naya,” he said. “And how she’d gotten the idea to come here after meeting you.”

He was rubbing it in.

My chance at freedom, for my babies’ freedom, had just slipped through my fingers. Or, more honestly, was wrapped around my waist and crying like the child she was.

I could convince her to stay.

I could get on with my life, move to West. Start over.

Evie’s arms trembled with renewed sobs.

What was I thinking? There was no way I would have been able to trade someone to the Line, anyone at all. I was an idiot to think that I ever could have.

“I had rather hoped this was your opportunity for a fresh start,” the man said.

“Go to hell.”

His eyes shot wide.

Just then, the door from the reception area burst open. Three security guards had Shirel in a body hold. I caught a glimpse of the reception nurse crying behind her desk with a black eye and a bloody nose. Shirel didn’t look much better, but she had a sly expression on her face as if the experience had been rather enjoyable.

“Sir, request permission to escort this intruder to a cell,” one guard said. He held Shirel’s arms pinned behind her back.

Shirel struggled, and the three of them adjusted their hold.

“She’s with me,” I said to the asshole, who’d gone behind his desk and was scrubbing his hands with sanitizer.

“Get these three out of the building,” he said.

“But...” The guards struggled to maintain their hold on Shirel, who repaid them by spitting blood on their uniforms.

“Out!” the man said. He gave me a knowing look. “Better luck next time.”

There would not be a next time. I was sure of that.

The three guards didn’t release their hold on Shirel until they shoved us back outside into the greyness of 10th Street. Evie was still wrapped around my waist.

The guards locked the door behind us.

Shirel called nasty names through the glass door and then spit more blood on it before wiping her mouth on her sleeve and cursing some more for good measure.

I sighed heavily and the smell of trash filled my mouth, making me gag. Evie let go just in time to dodge the vomit. I made sure to aim at the Line’s front door.

When I finished heaving, Shirel was grim. “Now what?”

I didn’t know.

Chapter Six

We went back to the boarding house. It was empty.

Good.

Shirel was hungry, as was Evie. I wanted to vomit again, but I was the only one with credits, so I splurged and bought some food. I figured after that disaster at the Line, my credits would be cut off soon. I might as well stockpile as much as possible.

Fresh produce was hard to come by in Central, but there was a merchant out in front of the boarding house who had some root vegetables and flat bread, so I bought a few. I also overpaid for a salami and a couple of jars of water. Back inside, Shirel pulled a hot plate and a small pan out from under her bunk and started slicing the salami against the floor. But her hands shook so badly, I took the knife from her and did it myself.

I knew what I was doing. It was almost second nature. Hugo, the chef at the restaurant, had taught me long ago. Several lifetimes ago.

Some things you can never unlearn.

As I sliced the salami and cubed the onion, the familiar action calmed my nerves, settling my stomach. My hands moved without thinking. Part of me liked remembering back when Hugo and I were both slaves at the restaurant. The secret cooking lessons. The trips to town to buy produce.

Then again, another part of me hated the memories.

It was pretty pathetic that it was the only joy I had ever known.

I took my feelings out on the vegetables and fried them up crisp and fast, twirling them in the pan without a spoon or a fork. Then I tossed in the cubed salami and served the mixture to Evie and Shirel, using a piece of flatbread as a plate for each of us.

Evie didn’t think twice about it, rolled the bread around the food and devoured the whole thing almost instantly, but Shirel sat on her cot and eyed the meal in her hands, then me.

“You can cook.”

I shrugged, not wanting to get into it.

I was thankful Shirel let it go. We stuffed our faces in silence. With a belly full of food, Evie soon fell asleep.

As I washed the pan in the bathroom sink, Shirel stood beside me at the other sink and ripped off a sleeve. She patted her bloodied face. When we got back to the room, we sat down on our bunks, too exhausted to speak.

Shirel slid the cooled hot plate under her bed, and I rested my eyes, leaning my head against the wall.

After a week of beer and sausage sandwiches, I felt better than I had since leaving the Line. Who knew the secret to fixing a chronic nauseous stomach was eating? The feeling must have been on my face because Shirel chuckled. When I opened my eyes, she was grinning at me.

“Where’d you learn to cook like that?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“You know,” she said, swirling her hands in the air. “That thing with the pan.”

I debated telling her. It was hard to think about. But I had to admit, Shirel was the closest thing to a friend I had in Central. I remembered how long it had taken me to open up to Peni and I regretted it.

It felt like time wasted.

“Before the Line,” I said, “I was at a restaurant as a dishwasher. When I was five to thirteen. The chef, Hugo, showed me how to cook when the owner wasn’t looking. Until we got caught, and then she sold Hugo someplace else.”

“Why didn’t she sell you?”

“Good question. Next time I see her, I’ll ask.”

Shirel cracked a grin. “You look good. Got some color in your cheeks. How far along are you?”

“What?”

“You’re still pregnant, right?”

“I think I’m about two months along or so.”

She nodded. “You should try and eat a lot of meat and dairy. It’s good for the baby.”

“Oh. Okay. You have any kids?” I was hoping she’d give me some much-needed words of wisdom, but I could tell from the pained look on Shirel’s face that I’d struck a raw nerve.

“Long time ago. They’re all grown now.” She hastily changed the subject, and I let her. “You been to a doctor yet?”

Wait...

Oh my God.

Technically, I’d seen a doctor at the Line. Supposedly, that had happened when I’d been knocked out, after being hosed off by that blonde nurse, but it suddenly occurred to me there was a problem with this. I’d never seen a doctor on my own. I’d never questioned whether or not I was actually pregnant. I’d taken their word for it and gone on this quest to find a replacement, and I had no idea if it was even true.

“You okay, Naya? You look like you’re gonna throw up again.”

I took deep breaths. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You want I should get a bucket?”

“Yeah. No. I just... You know any doctors?”

Shirel took her wet sleeve and patted her swollen left eye again, which was beginning to turn purple. “I know a clinic on 12th and B. I can take you there if you want.”

“Thanks. I need to do that.”

“Sure.” We stared at the floor a minute or two. Finally, she sighed and spoke again. “You going to West? ‘Cuz if you can cook, you could prolly get a job for a rich family in South.”

I shrugged. I honestly had no idea what I was going to do next. My whole plan was shot. My credits were about to be taken away, I’d promised Evie I’d send for her, and I knew a replacement was out of the question. I had a little over six months to find a way out of that and no idea how I was going to accomplish any of it. It didn’t look good. “I suppose I could use the credits the Line gave me and buy transfer orders,” I thought aloud. “But after what just happened, I’m not sure they’ll approve it.” Time was wasting. Whatever I did, I had better do it quickly.

“Worth a shot,” Shirel said. “What’s the worst they can do, say no?”

She didn’t know the half of it. I had visions of security troops swooping in and carrying me off to a holding cell until I gave birth, but I left that unsaid.

“I guess.”

“Look, I meant what I said before,” she added. “There ain’t nothing here. I been stuck in Central for ten years. If I could afford to get out, you bet your skinny ass I would. All said and done, I think you should go to South.”

“Is it hard to get travel orders?”

“It is when you’re convicted of grand theft,” Shirel said, looking uncomfortable. She locked her ankles together and crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m as good as stuck here. If I’d known a couple of pieces of silver would bring me this much trouble, I woulda put up with my boss better.”

“Where’d you work before?”

“Rich family, South. I was a nanny, if you can believe it.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad. Why’d you steal from them? What’d your boss do?”

Shirel shook her head in what could have been disgust. “Kept my pay. Told me it was for ‘safety,’ which was a load of shit. But I had a room all to myself, and a job. Food. Wasn’t all bad. I thought if I sold a few things I could get out and go work someplace better, but I got caught. Was stupid. Shoulda known better. Spent a spell in prison and when I got out, I was stuck in Central. No travel orders in my future, no steady job neither. I’m on some sort of No Hire list. Can’t open no account with Auberge. Don’t know why they didn’t just kill me and dump me over the wall. Woulda been nicer. Only work I can get is day labor. So I’m here until I die. There’s a lot like me here, in Central. Oliv and Gretchen both got records too. That’s why you need to get out. There ain’t nothing here for you.”

“If there was some way I could help...” I started.

She waved me off. “Don’t worry ’bout me. I make do. You got enough to worry ‘bout.”

She wasn’t wrong about that, but I felt responsible for having caused this latest bit of drama in Shirel’s and Evie’s lives. If I hadn’t come to the boarding house, chances were, Evie wouldn’t have had the idea to go to the Line. Better still, if I hadn’t told anyone to begin with where I was from, this whole ordeal wouldn’t have happened.

I’d have to remember that in the future.

Evie stirred in her bunk.

“What we gonna do ’bout her?” Shirel asked.

“Dunno.”

“You got any family?”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Me neither.”

I thought of asking her about her kids but left it alone.

“Too bad we don’t have a grandma or something. You know?” She chuckled.

I rubbed the remnants of a bump on the back of my head. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

* * *

I knocked on the purple door.

No answer.

I knocked again.

When there was no answer the second time, I heard Shirel shift behind me. Evie sighed.

Hmm.

There was no peephole on the door, only peeling paint and a bent knob.

I knocked a third time.

“Go away!” squawked a woman’s voice from inside.

I stepped back and elbowed Evie. She nervously cleared her throat. I nudged her again, and she took a step closer.

She stood there. The bare bulb that hung from the ceiling flickered and buzzed, showing glimpses of the filthy hallway.

Still, I had no second thoughts.

“Come on!” Shirel whispered harshly.

Evie inhaled deeply and readied herself, but her voice barely came out as a whisper. “Ahem. Um. Hello?”

No answer from inside.

“Louder,” I said.

“Hello?” Evie said, louder, but not a shout.

Still no answer.

I took a step forward and knocked again, hard, then elbowed Evie.

“Hello?” she said, louder still.

“Who is it?” the voice behind the door asked.

I looked behind me to Shirel for some sign of reassurance. She stood at the top of the stair landing and smiled. It occurred to me this was the first time I’d seen her do that. She was missing a tooth.

I elbowed Evie again.

“Um, it’s Evie,” she said.

“Evie who?” the voice inquired.

“Just Evie.”

“What do you want?”

She glanced back at me nervously. I nodded. We’d already gone over what she needed to say. “I need a grandmother.”

We waited a few moments for the response. “Who are you?”

Evie’s face contorted, and I could see she was struggling to control herself. “Just Evie.”

Shirel leaned forward and whispered loudly. “Tell her how old you are.”

“I’m ele—”

“The truth!” Shirel snapped.

“I’m ten!”

I signaled to stop speaking. We waited.

When we heard the clicks of the dead bolts unlocking, I stepped back and stood next to Shirel, away from the door but still visible.

Evie swayed with nervous energy. Her fists were balled at her side. Her shoulders were up around her ears.

The door opened, and an old woman holding a frying pan poked out her head. She glanced around, taking stock of Evie, Shirel and me. She squinted at me a second, then recognition filtered across her face. “You.”

I nodded but said nothing, waiting. This was a long shot at best, and I didn’t want to mess it up by saying too much. Besides, aside from the fact the little old lady had once had a granddaughter and had helped me escape the gang rape, I had no idea what kind of person she was. She could take one look at Evie and send her packing. But it was worth a shot.

Having been coached by me, Evie knew not to move away, not to step back, but to stand at the old lady’s front door and look every bit her ten years of age, and she was doing a fairly decent job of listening to my advice.

When the old woman’s eyes went back to the girl, it bothered me to see her expression did not soften. Perhaps this
had
been a mistake.

“I’m Evie.”

The old woman sized her up. Evie’s sack dress and beat-up shoes were a bit big on her and made her look smaller than she was. I hoped that would work in our favor.

“You’re skinny,” said the old woman, who I had to admit was a bit plump herself.

Evie nodded.

“You read?”

Evie shook her head.

“You clean?”

Evie nodded.

“You got any family?”

I had not prepared her for this question, so her eyes shot wide in panic and she looked to me. I tried to reassure her with my eyes, but knew I couldn’t say a word. It had to be about
her
. Otherwise, it was too easy for the old woman to say no.

“That your sister?” asked the old woman.

“No,” Evie said.

“Got any family?” she asked again.

Evie squared her shoulders. “My mom left.”

“Left?”

“She went to find work. Said she’d come back. But...” The rest of her words faded.

The old woman frowned. “Need someplace to stay?”

Evie nodded.

“How will your mom know where you are?”

Shirel cleared her throat. “I’ll tell her if...I mean,
when
she comes back.”

The old woman’s eyes darkened. She knew now. Without us having to say it, I could tell she understood. None of us thought she was coming back, not even Evie for that matter, but to say so out loud would have crushed the girl. I was pleased to see that the old woman understood this. I could tell from the look on her face she wasn’t happy about it, though.

She stuck the frying pan under her arm. “Why’d you come here?”

Evie turned her head to its side and blurted out, “Naya said you were nice and that you’d helped her.”

The old woman seemed confused for a second until she realized who Evie had meant. She glanced back at me and raised her eyebrows. “How’s your head?”

I grinned. “Better.”

Maybe the old lady would come through after all. She eyed Evie once more with consideration. It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn she stood up taller. “You have to learn to read. Can’t stay here unless you learn how.”

Evie nodded, her eyes brightening. “Okay.”

“Can’t have no ignorant kid taking up my space. Got it?”

“Okay!”

“Don’t suppose you can count?”

“Up to twenty,” Evie said proudly.

The old woman grunted, then stepped back from the door and allowed Evie to enter. The grandmother nodded at Shirel and me with a mixed expression.

Shirel had crossed her arms across her chest. “I’ll come and check on her every now and then.”

The old woman shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She turned and spoke into the apartment. “Come say goodbye to your friends.”

Evie popped her head out from the apartment and waved. “See you later!” And she disappeared inside the door, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, look!” exclaimed Evie’s voice from inside, “toys!”