The Line Book One: Carrier (9 page)

Doc stuffed his hands into his pockets. “How long do you need to make the worm?”

Tym sighed again, then his eyes shot back and forth as he calculated in his head. “A couple of days. I’ll have to check with Sonya.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Tym nodded and pushed his rolling chair with his feet toward a drooping table in the corner. He stood, fished around the hardware and came up with a palm scanner tablet.

He held it out to me. “Put your right palm here.”

I did.

The scanner screen flashed green.

“Now the left.”

I did.

It flashed green again.

He took the scanner and clipped in a cord from one of the hard drives, and my palms appeared on the wall of screens. As big as giants.

“See? Easy.” He opened a box on the screen and typed in “Delete.” He shot words over his shoulder, but Doc had already started to move toward the exit. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready, and I’ll call Sonya while I’m at it.”

“Thanks, Tym.”

“No prob. Oh, wait, where’s Naya’s chip?”

“Anj’s dealing with it this time.”

He turned from the screens and glared at him. “I don’t want her involved. There’s no sense in her being in danger, too.”

“Not your choice.”

He growled and went back to the screens. “Tell her I want my other pair of glasses back. She was here this morning, and I think she took them with her. Can’t find them anyplace.”

I opened my mouth to tell him they were on top of his head, but Doc was smirking and shooed me out the door.

Outside the building, he retrieved his motorcycle and pulled up in front of me.

“Where to now?” I asked. I climbed on the bike.

“We’ve got to hide you until he’s ready.”

“To the boarding house?”

Doc pulled the bike out of the alley, and we silently slid off the curb to the street. “You were staying in one, right? Did you leave anything there? Any possessions? Anything that could identify you?”

I shook my head, thinking of Shirel and Evie.

“Good,” he said. “You can’t go back there. Best to lay low until Tym gets done.”

That burned more than I had thought it would. Just like with Peni, I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye.

I really was a horrible friend.

“I’m taking you to my place,” Doc added.

My arms around his waist went stiff and I felt an ice bucket topple in the pit of my stomach.

As if reading my thoughts, he spoke. “Don’t worry. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“And how do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You’re from the Line. What else would you be thinking?”

I couldn’t argue with him there. We stayed silent the remainder of the ride. I put my head behind his back and closed my eyes, unable to enjoy the wind whipping my hair.

Chapter Nine

Doc’s place was in a stucco apartment building with a broken elevator. I was fine the first four flights, but by the seventh floor, I was winded.

“Come on, Naya. One more.”

“That’s what you said three floors ago.”

Doc smiled and his perfect white teeth gleamed.

“Don’t smile like that. It’s creepy.”

His smile fell and he grumbled to himself as he kept climbing.

Once we got to his apartment on the eighth floor, he fished a keycard out of his pocket and ran it across the wall scanner. The light turned green and the lock popped open.

He pushed the door and held it open for me.

It felt awkward, but I went first, brushing against his shoulder as I passed.

Inside was a little apartment with a kitchen immediately to the left. It was a mess. Piles of tablets lay scattered across the countertops, the shiny appliances had papers stuck to them with blue tape and a dingy dish towel was flung over the sink. Straight ahead was a living room, with a dark green couch with a screen on the wall across from it. None of the pillows on the couch matched. A dirty pair of sweat pants was hanging limply off the arm of the sofa. Two doors led to rooms on either side, each one covered in more papers.

Old-fashioned posters of ancient rock bands were tacked to the walls, and a pair of running shoes had been discarded into a corner.

The place smelled like sweat.

I looked back at Doc, who shrugged, reddening a little. “Wasn’t expecting company, sorry.”

“No, it’s...fine.”

“From the look on your face you’d think this was a hovel.” He laughed.

“No really, it’s great. I just wasn’t expecting...”

“A mess?”

This made me grin. “You seem more, I don’t know, put together than this.”

He stepped past me and picked up the pair of sweat pants, then threw them through the door on the left. “Well, something’s gotta give. Right?” He smiled, showing his dimple. When he noticed my stiff expression, he motioned to the door on the right. “You take that room.”

The door was open, so I stepped through the living room and into the bedroom. A large bed sat in the middle, with unmatched real wood tables on either side. To the right of the bed was a closet with mirror doors, and a bathroom.

My own bathroom.

“There’s some soap and shampoo in the shower if you want. And the towels are...here.” He stepped around me and into the room, opened a cabinet under the sink and put two bright blue towels on the gleaming white counter. “Sonya is stopping by with some clothes and things in a little while. You hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Want a sandwich?”

I had to think for a moment. After a week of sausage sandwiches at the red restaurant, it wasn’t really what I wanted, but if that was what he was offering, I’d take it. “Sure. Thanks.”

He nodded, passing around me and back out the door. He stood just outside, his hand resting on the brass knob. “After you eat you should take one of your prenatal vitamins.”

“Okay.”

He stared at me a second as if he wanted to say more. “Yeah. Okay.” He closed the door behind him, and I was alone in the room.

I took a minute and stood there, looking around. The sheets on the bed were crisp and clean and a taupe color. There was a green blanket on top with a thicker and fluffier dark brown one rolled over on the edge. Two puffy pillows were at the head. A different lamp sat on each of the side tables, along with a variety of digital photo frames. The lampshades were made of old recycled newspaper. I walked over and flicked the switch on the lamp. Nothing happened.

I searched the room and found the switch on the wall, clicked it, then tried the lamp again. It worked.

I turned it on and off a few times.

I hadn’t had my own lamp to control in my whole life.

I flicked it a few times more.

In the bathroom, there was a mirror.

I caught a glimpse of myself and nearly jumped.

The girl staring back at me was someone I didn’t know. She had startling grey eyes, like rain clouds, and jet-black stick-straight hair that was all the way down her back. She was pale and had faded bruises around her eyes. Her lips were dry and cracked. She seemed tired and wore old dirty clothes, which hung on her like rags. Her cheeks were sunken and her eyes a little wild. Her teeth were yellowish and fuzzy.

I searched about the drawers and found a toothbrush and some paste. I wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but I used it anyway, scrubbing my teeth so hard I tasted blood.

Then I grabbed a hairbrush. Knots the size of rats had to be worked through. Clumps came out in the process. I removed the hair from the brush bristles and dumped it into the trash can under the sink. Frustrated, I rummaged through the drawers until I found a pair of scissors, and I hacked off my hair. I cut it all the way up to my ears. It was jagged and uneven, but I felt so much lighter and freer afterward, it was worth it. I ran my hands through it a few times and tossed my head about.

The girl in the mirror didn’t look so sunken anymore.

I cleaned up the hair from the sink and floor and put the scissors back.

Behind the sink was a bathtub with a glass door and a showerhead. The toilet was white and sparkled with a little blue yarn rug in front. I used the toilet, then turned on the water in the tub.

I filled it up while I sat on the toilet, studying the crystal clear water flowing from the faucet. A few times I leaned forward and grabbed a handful, drinking it.

Once the tub was full, I slipped off my grimy clothes and got in. It was so hot it burned, but it felt good. I sunk all the way down, head and all, and my skin prickled from top to bottom.

Out of breath, I popped up, took in more air, then slid back down, closing my eyes and listening to the water sloshing in the tub. My knees were above, getting chilled. I came up and let them sink into the hot water. I took the soap and worked up a thick lather, smoothing it over every inch of my body, being careful around the incision on my ankle where my tracking chip had been. Then I used the yellow shampoo and scrubbed my hair to the scalp, digging with my nails.

I sunk back down, scrubbed my hair some more underwater and came back up.

The water was like liquid charcoal.

Disgusted, I reached over, unplugged the drain and sat in the water as it circled and disappeared.

I dried off with the towels, wrapped one around my body and another around my hair, then crawled into the bed naked, not wanting to put my dirty clothes on again. The sheets were smooth and soft, and the bed felt like a mountain of pillows. I curled into a ball, wrapped the sheets and blanket tightly around me and fell fast asleep.

* * *

Mama cries.
Daddy looks pale and sickly.
My baby sister is taking a nap on her mat on the floor.

Vira asks them if they’re sure they want to
“
do this.
”
Daddy says yes.
He says I’m a good girl and will listen well.
Mama cries louder.

Daddy says he’s lost his job and they don’t have enough to eat.
At least this way
,
I’ll have a chance.
If I stay with them
,
I’ll probably starve.

Vira asks
, “
What about the baby?
”

Mama bawls and scoops up my sister.
“
You can’t take her.
I’m still breast feeding.
”

“
She’s two years old
,”
Vira says.
“
She’d be fine.
”

“
No!
”
Mama wails and takes the baby into the other room.
She cries my name over and over but doesn’t come out again.

Daddy gets down on his knees and talks to me.
“
Natalia
,
you will go with Vira.
Do what she says
,
and she’ll take care of you.
”

“
I
don’t want to go
,”
I
say.

Daddy’s eyes brim over
,
and he stands.

Vira takes my hand and leads me outside.

I
don’t cry.

I’m confused.

How long will I have to stay with this lady?

When can I come home?

Nobody tells me
,
and I’m afraid to ask.

The moment we’re outside the building
,
Vira lets go of my hand and tells me to keep up
,
and that there will be no whining.

Vira takes me on a train.

She gives me tea
,
which makes me sleepy.

When I wake up
,
nothing looks the same.

The buildings are cement and grey
,
and not wood and brick
,
like at home.

It smells bad.

Out the train window there’s trash on the streets
,
everywhere.

When the train stops
,
we get off at a station and walk a long while to a building.
Inside
,
there are matching tables and chairs with pretty pink tablecloths.
People sit and eat and drink tea.

A
man at the door greets Vira and stares at me.
I
look to the floor.

Through the room with the tables
,
there’s a swinging metal door with a little window.
Inside there’s a big kitchen with a deep sink filled with water and soap
,
and an old rag for scrubbing draped over the side.

I
have to go to the bathroom.

Vira shows me where to get the dirty plates and where to put them once I’ve scrubbed them.
She shows me the giant dishwasher and how to push the buttons and how to take out the super-hot plates and cups.
She shows me where to stack the clean dishes.

Steam fills the kitchen and sticks to my skin.

An old man
,
Hugo
,
works at the ovens and stoves.
He watches Vira talk to me out of the corner of his eye.
I
can tell because when I look at him he winks at me.

I
feel a little better.

But I don’t want to wash dishes.

I
ask if I may use the bathroom
,
but Vira slaps me on the cheek and tells me never to speak.

I’m shocked into silence.

Vira says if I break a dish I’ll have to pay her
,
so be careful
,
but not to go too slowly.

Then she leaves.

It’s hot.

I’m sleepy.

I’m hungry.

I
have to pee.

There’s a mountain of dirty dishes to my left.

I
wash.

The pee runs down my leg and into the drain on the floor.

When Vira finds out
,
she locks me in a closet as punishment.

* * *

I
sleep on a mat in the corner of the kitchen.

I’m allowed to eat leftovers from the plates.

Hugo tries to be nice to me.
One day
,
he makes sticky rice and sees me watching.
He calls me over and shows me how to make it.

It’s easy to do
,
the way Hugo explains it.

Days pass.

Weeks.

Months.

A
year.

Two.

When Vira isn’t looking
,
Hugo tells me about his daughter
,
who he misses terribly.
He owes Auberge lots of credits
,
and that’s why he’s a slave.
Like me.

He likes to show me more cooking after I’m done with the dishes.

He tells me I remind him of freedom.

Noodles with brown sauce.

Baked fish with ponzu.

Beef with broccoli and white wine chicken.

One day
,
Vira arrives unexpectedly and catches us cooking together.

She screams and locks me in the closet.

When I come out
,
Hugo is gone.

Sent away.
He never comes back.

A
young man takes his place and doesn’t look at me.

Never once.

I
am sick with loneliness.

I
miss Hugo.

I
miss cooking.

No more tastes of freedom.

* * *

I
work there a long time.

More years pass.

I’m growing numb.

I
forget what happiness feels like.

* * *

“Naya?”

I jerked awake. It was bright.

Blinding.

I had opened my eyes right under the lamp I’d left on beside the bed.

My dried lids peeled off my eyeballs.

A very dark-skinned girl about the same age as me stood next to the bed. She wore faded tight jeans with a mangle of metal belts slug over her hips, fluffy pink bunny slippers and her dark hair was in a single braid down her back. She had a stud piercing on her eyebrow, her lip and all the way up both ears, and a tiny ring in one nostril.