The Reaping (21 page)

“Then I don’t understand the problem.”

The doctor still has his hands extended toward me when the door slides open and Jack steps through. He takes one look at the doctor and what’s in his hands and stops dead in his tracks. He laughs humorlessly.

“Are you serious?”

The doctor looks from me to Jack. “Well, yes, I’m serious. I thought Terra would like being able to communicate more efficiently and so thought the voice box would be an ideal solution. It’s painless, easily put on and taken off, and weighs virtually nothing. She won’t even notice it’s there.”

Jack puts a hand to the back of his neck, and his eyes linger on me. “They really are serious.”

I nod. I’m glad he knows me so well.

“Dr. Keyes.” I forget he must know him. He worked in medicine until he came back to me. “Here’s the problem with the voice box. You may or may not know that Terra was imprisoned in a labor camp while she was on land.” The doctor flinches when he says this. The people here really have no idea what life is like up there. People like my father have more than seen to that. “In this labor camp, just one of the humiliations Terra faced was to wear a voice box that made her sound like nothing more than a robot just so the people in charge could have the satisfaction of—”

The doctor holds up a perfectly manicured hand. “Say no more. The voice is of no concern. There are five voices you can choose from, and I’m certain one of them will be to your liking.”

I roll my eyes and rip the voice box out of his hand. He’s so clueless. I really can’t blame him—he was raised to be clueless. I’ll put the stupid thing on just so I don’t have to deal with the doctor again. Then I’ll slip it in my pocket as soon as I’m out of here.

“You don’t have to,” Jack says.

I know.

The doctor hovers over me, fussing with his hands in the air, as I attach it. He almost jumps in a few times to adjust it, but I lean away from him. Mr. Klein stands by Jack and watches the whole production with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk. Finally the doctor nods his head in satisfaction.

“Now to change the voice, simply press this button here.” He guides my fingers until I find a small raised bump. “One press for each change. It will cycle through them. The voice box itself has speakers in it, which can be adjusted in volume. You may find if you turn it up too high, however, that the sound will distort.”

My fingers slip away from the plastic and I nod. I admit it—it will be easier to actually talk to people instead of spelling everything out. Especially in my meeting with the council scheduled in two days. But I’m not going to do this in front of him. I’ll test it out with Jack when we can find a quiet place in a corridor somewhere. It’s too embarrassing trying on new voices in front of everyone.

I slip off the exam table and grab my clothes. Everyone is still hovering around the edges of the room, and I give Jack a pointed look.

“Oh, right. I’ll meet you at the Juice Deck?”

I nod, and Dr. Keyes and Mr. Klein take the hint and leave the room with him. I remember the last time I was naked for a physical; when I needed to be hosed down and sanitized at the labor camp. My fingers brush along my colony clothes. They actually are mine—not ones assigned to me—and I wonder if the medical staff retrieved them from my quarters or if Jessa picked them out herself. The fabric is soft as I slip the dress over my head. It falls down to my knees. I look in the mirror hidden behind the door. The dress is robin-egg blue. If you had asked me a year ago what robin-egg blue actually looked like, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. But I’ve seen robins’ eggs, and this color matches them exactly. I’d like to be able to tell Jessa that, but I’m not sure if she’d really get it.

I smooth my hair. I’m about to turn to the door when I stop and study the girl in the mirror again. The bruises on my face are just about gone after being tended to by Dr. Keyes; only the faintest green hue over my jawbone remains. My hair is shiny after my perfect diet of the past few days. I push my feet into my slippers and stare at myself. I look older than I did when I left the colony. Not like I have crow’s feet or anything, but my eyes are older. I’ve seen and done more than I could possibly imagine. My jaw is sharper. My arms and legs are thinner, but they’ve also filled out with muscle. I’m not as soft as I used to be. No wonder Dad looked like he hardly knew me when I stepped off the sub.

I fiddle with the collar of my dress, arranging it so it hides most of the voice box. I’m stalling here, but I’m not sure entirely why. I know Jack waits for me outside, and I want to be wrapped up in his arms more than anything. It’s everyone else I can’t face. Everyone else and the questions that muddle their faces every time I walk by.

I take a deep breath and stand stock-still in front of the door until it slides open. Jack leans against the wall on the other side of the corridor. I’m not used to seeing him so relaxed, but he’s a chameleon that way—he looks equally comfortable down here as he does up there. I wish I had that skill. He smiles and holds out a hand. I slip my fingers through his and he stands and leads the way down the hall.

Mr. Klein?

“He was called away—had an appointment with a student.” Jack takes my hand. “You’d better talk to him soon, though. I don’t think he can wait much longer.”

I nod and run my fingers over the voice box, unable to leave it alone.

“Do you want to pick out a voice now, or put the voice box in a drawer and never look at it again?”

I smile up at him and all my hesitation melts away. How does he always know exactly what to say? I wrap my other hand around his arm and pull him against my side. We walk down the corridor that way until the next intersection. Then I take a right. This will lead to a small observation deck that hardly anyone ever uses—it’s too out-of-the-way.

Now.

Jack sits down on a bench by a window. Through the black water I see the shimmering lights of another observation deck. I sigh and look up and find the watcher imbedded in the ceiling. Even when you think you’re alone down here, you never are.

Jack follows my gaze and then presses his palm against my cheek to turn my face toward him. “Ignore it.”

Right. There are eyes watching me wherever I go. I miss the forest where there’s nothing but trees, animals, and my cabin. Then my heart catches as I think of the watchers and scanners installed so close to my home. There’s nothing that’s just mine anywhere now.

Jack’s other hand finds my cheek, and he holds my face and looks at me. My skin warms under his touch. “You don’t have to do this, you know. We can take the voice box back to medical and just tell them you won’t use it.”

I shake my head. It’s never that easy. There’s a whole political game you have to play, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the council who orchestrated the whole voice-box thing just to feel like they were back in control again.

I’ll do it.
And even I have to admit, it will be easier. I trace my finger along the plastic until I find the button. I press it once and speak.

“How’s this?” The voice is high-pitched and breathy.

Jack smiles at me. “Not quite you. Or was it? Somehow I can’t imagine you sounding like that.”

I laugh.
Definitely not.

I press the button again, but this one is a low alto and I could almost be a guy. I press the button and it’s more manageable, but too monotone. It’s like the robot all over again. I press the button, and this time the voice is a tone or two lower than mine, but closer. The words come out just a little too husky, but it’s much better.

“I like that one,” Jack says, sitting back.

“Me too. I think it’s about as close as we’ll get.”

Jack takes my hand.
You don’t have to use it with me.

I kiss him.
Thank you.

Chapter Sixteen

Jack and I are staying with Jessa and Gram. The colony had tried to offer Jack his own quarters back, but Gram wouldn’t hear of it. “He’s practically family,” she said. And he doesn’t mind sleeping on the couch. It’s a million times better than sleeping with a rock under your back. It’s funny to think Gram used to be a speaker herself. I can’t imagine my father letting someone sleep on a couch.

I put my hand to the door scanner, it glows green, and the door slides open. Gram gathers me into her arms. I breathe deeply, taking in the scent of freesia and nutritionally optimized bread slices. It sends a pang through my heart. Not everything in the colony is bad, and there are some things I really miss.

Gram runs her hands over my hair and then holds my face and just looks at me for several seconds. Then she breaks into a wide smile.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Terra. You’ve been missed.”

Not by everyone. But I don’t say it or spell it; it would be too hurtful. That doesn’t stop Gram from reading it in my expression, though. Her silver eyebrows knit together for a moment, and I can’t bear the scrutiny of her gaze. I turn my head and her hands slip away from my cheeks.

Gram wipes her hands on her apron. “I was just getting dinner ready. Did you want to help, Jack?”

Jack steps from the doorway. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gram beams at him. “You’ve been missed too.” She leans to my ear. “I like Jack very much, you should know.”

I raise an eyebrow. How much time did he and Gram spend together during those months we were apart?

Jack and Gram work in the kitchen, passing dishes to each other. Gram doesn’t let me help. She shoos me to the table, fluttering her hands to get me to sit down. The screen in the front room shows images of the dinner prep step-by-step, and I watch the screen show cut vegetables, and then Gram cuts the vegetables and Jack browns the meat. Gram tries to make conversation.

“So how are you, Terra?”

“Good.”

“Are you happy?”

Funny how the question makes me pause. When Mr. Klein talked about my happiness, I didn’t think twice about it. I wonder if everyone else down here doubts such a thing as happiness is possible up there. I look at Jack, who stops stirring the meat to watch and listen.

“Yes. I am.”

Gram pauses with the knife hovering over a mushroom. “I’m glad to hear that. I worried every day after you went. . . . After you left.”

I look at my hands that have nothing to do. “I’m fine. You didn’t have to worry.”

The knife slams against the cutting board harder than strictly necessary for slicing mushrooms. But Gram’s voice is calm. “Perhaps. But I didn’t know that.” Chop, chop, chop. “Neither did your father.”

That statement hangs in the air for a good five minutes before any one of us speaks again.

“This isn’t my home. Dad didn’t help with that, you know.”

Gram sighs then dumps the mushrooms into the pan. “You broke his heart, you know.”

“My mom broke his heart.”

Then Gram clamps her mouth tight shut and stirs the sizzling mushrooms around the pan and doesn’t say another word about it for the rest of the night.

The next afternoon the Juice Deck is crowded; it takes me several moments to scan over the faces for the two I’ve come here to see. Jessa and Brant sit in our usual booth with a view of black water. Their heads are bowed close together and they haven’t noticed me yet. As Jack and I cross the cavernous room, several people turn to look at me, hands covering their mouths. The room buzzes with conversation, but I can imagine what their whispers say: “Speakers’s daughter . . . ran away . . . broke his heart . . . better off without her.” Maybe even something like, “Traitor.” I wouldn’t put it past them with the way their eyes bore into my back like knives as I order a smoothie. I use the voice box, and the worker raises an eyebrow, but mercifully doesn’t stare at the box strapped to my neck.

When I turn from the counter, Brant looks up. His eyes look past me for a moment before lighting up. He didn’t recognize me right away either. Jessa laughs and waves us over.

“It took you forever!” Jessa says as she slides her empty cup out of the way.

I lean forward, wondering if the voice box picks up on whispers. “I was being fitted with my sexy voice.”

Jessa guffaws. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard her laugh like that, but she does it now and the sounds makes me not hate my voice box quite so much.

“That one was probably the best option, right?”

I sip my smoothie and nod. Cold. I haven’t had anything cold for so long. The food at the settlement was always lukewarm or hot, the labor camp was more of the same, and quarantine was all soup and stew. They must have thought we were invalids or something. I relish the way the chill goes all the way from my mouth and down my throat and I can feel it for just a split second in my belly before it’s gone.

“So did you have any of that sugar?” Brant asks.

I raise an eyebrow.

“You know, how the Burn has unnecessary sugar and they put it in their smoothies and they’re infinitely better than ours?” Hostility lines the edges of his voice. That’s unexpected.

My mind rolls back to the last conversation I had in the Juice Deck. Jessa and Brant had been there that day. I had talked about sugar. Brant knew how much the Burn intrigued me. Did he feel like I abandoned him for something better? Jessa puts a hand on his arm and shakes her head slightly. I look at my fingers wrapped around my cup.