Vanquished (10 page)

I've thought the whole day about the best way to get there. Most of my path will be lined with alleys. That makes for great cover.

A stray cat meows at me, and I nearly shout out. What's a stray doing around here anyway? We don't have many animals in our city. The Greaters say we barely have enough food to feed ourselves. We can't be feeding pets, too. In fact, most pets end up as meals during the winter months.

I'm three blocks from home when I see the first guard. It's a man, I think, and he's wearing strange glasses on his eyes. I've never seen glasses like that—kind of like I'd never seen the little machine the woman guard had the last time I was out past curfew. He casually scans the streets, like he doesn't really expect to find anything.

He turns my way and I press myself behind a tree, hoping the trunk hides me. He scans the street and then moves on. I take a deep breath and keep moving. How long will it take me to get there? I'm not entirely sure. I've never been to Kensington Avenue, especially not in the middle of the night.

I dart between hiding spots, camouflaging myself from a guard here and there. It's not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. I shouldn't be surprised, since it was so easy getting out of the house. My dad never suspected a thing when we said goodnight. I guess it's the same for getting across town. The guards don't actually expect to see anyone out in the dark.

I get there within twenty minutes. I'm actually a few minutes late, I think, but that can't really matter. I was right about the houses. They're old and falling apart. The shutters hang at odd angles, and most of the windows don't have glass. I wonder why Fischer and his people would want to meet me here, but then I realize. The place is abandoned.

I scurry down the side walk, glancing at dilapidated number signs hanging on the fronts of the houses. Where is 871? It has to be around here somewhere.

I look away from a sign numbered 7-9-0 and right into the face of a guard. My scream pierces the night, but it doesn't affect the guard.

“What are you doing here?” he demands.

My mind sputters and moans and dies, and no words come from my mouth. I don't know what to do, but I can't let this guard know why I'm really here.

I do the only thing I can think to do. I run as fast as I can.

The guard's footsteps pound against the broken sidewalk behind me. I hear him speaking, and I wonder to whom. Is there another guard with him? I didn't see anyone else.

“We have a runner on Kensington Avenue. She's headed toward the river.”

The words seem odd, detached.
I'm
the runner.
I'm
headed toward the river. He's talking about me.

I jog down an alley and will myself to go faster. Wind stings my eyes, and I wipe a stray tear from my cheek. If he thinks I'm heading to the river, and that's where he's sending backup, then I'm definitely not going there. I come out of the alley and take a left, going back in my original direction, just on a different street.

“Stop!” the guard yells. “By order of the Guards!”

I don't stop. I have to get away. What will they do if they catch me? Will they put me in jail? Make me a Lesser? Will they search every house on Kensington Avenue and find Fischer and his people? What if we're all caught?

I wonder briefly where the instinct to run came from. I've never run from someone before—I'm more of a stay and work things out kind of girl.

My lungs burn and my throat hurts from breathing so hard. I know I have to get away, but I have a feeling he's gaining on me. At the last minute, I dart into an old house. This may be the dumbest thing I've ever done, but I noticed half the houses don't have windows. If I can make it to one and climb out another way, it might buy me a better lead.

I hurry through the sprawling house, looking for a front window. Glass and trash and debris litter the wooden floor, and I see the front door a few feet ahead. The window I need is right beside it, so I lunge.

It's then I realize I don't hear footsteps behind me. Did the guard follow me into the house?

Hands like iron bracelets clamp around my wrists. “Just what do you think you're doing out here, girl?” the guard says. He huffs and puffs with exertion, but he doesn't really sound upset.

I have to come up with a story fast. I can't exactly say I'm on my way to meet with a group who will tell me all about religion and the corruption of our government.

“I was meeting my boyfriend,” I say. I'm huffing and puffing, too, and my legs feel like deflated balloons. I fall to my knees.

“Some guy he is, letting you get chased through the streets and not helping you out. I think you'd better drop that one.”

At least he believes my story, but guilt nags at my brain for the lie.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask between gulps of air.

He leans against the house, still breathing hard. “I've already called for backup, so I can't let you go. You'll have to make a statement. You'll probably get your entertainment allowances revoked for the month, and you'll get a mark on your record. Three marks and you get demoted.” He squats in front of me. “Trust me, girl. There isn't a boy in the world worth that.”

Why isn't he surprised? I was shocked when I found out Jamie was meeting Easton, but maybe it happens all the time. Maybe
I
'
m
the strange one.

“Have you got your ID on you?” he asks.

“In my pocket.”

He reaches in my pocket and pulls out the small plastic card. He punches numbers into the same kind of machine the other guard had. I want to ask him what it is, but I'm not sure the guards look kindly on inquisitive law breakers. Then again, he was much more conversational then the other guard had been.

“What is that thing?” I ask.

“It's called a pocket scanner. It's like a mini computer. It lets me check your file for other violations.” He stares at the screen for a moment and then frowns. “You were issued a warning a week ago for being out after curfew. Didn't learn your lesson?”

“That was different. My mom's in the hospital. She has the mutation, and I stayed late to be with her. It was stupid, I know.”

He watches me silently. Finally, he sighs. “Yeah, it was stupid, but I know how you feel. My sister died of the mutation when we were kids.”

Tears swell in my eyes. That is exactly what I don't want to hear, someone else dying from the mutation.

Still, at least he believes me—again. Are all the guards as gullible as this one?

A moment later I hear a rumbling noise down the street, and a car pulls in front of the house.

The guard helps me stand up. “Here's your ride, kid. Stay out of trouble, and drop the boyfriend. He's no good.”

“Thanks,” I say.

I stare at the car, chewing on my lip. The last time I rode in a car was once when Mom's sister visited from Middle City 1.

The guard helps me into the back seat, and my stomach is in knots. What are they going to do with me? Where are they going to take me? What will my parents think of me? They'll think I was meeting a boy, and they'll want to know who. People will say I'm acting out because of Mom's sickness.

I half-snort as I realize that last part is kind of true. I
am
doing this because of Mom's illness, only it's not in rebellion to the mutation itself, just the Greaters' treatment of it. Of course I can't be sure, but I think I'm going to get off pretty easy. And since I didn't get the information I needed, I think it's safe to say I'm going to do it again the first chance I get.

 

 

 

 

18

 

I've never even seen the guard station before tonight. It's really a quaint, quiet-looking, brick building. Nothing extraordinary. Not even menacing. There are no barbed-wire fences or barred windows. In fact, a beautiful flower bed blooms around the left side of the building.

It strikes me as odd how some things survived the Early Days, and other things didn't. Things like flower beds and colleges made it through, but things like pets and freedom didn't.

My own observation surprises me. Freedom? When did I start feeling like I wasn't free? Maybe when Ava was denied the freedom to see her brother, or our entire nation was denied the freedom to look for a possible God.

“State your name, miss,” a man behind a desk says. It snaps me back to reality.

“Hana Norfolk.”

“Why were you out this evening, Hana?” Again, this guard isn't mean or threatening. If I had to guess, I'd say he was bored and tired.

“I was meeting a boy from school.”

“Boy's name?”

I freeze. I can't give Fischer's name of course. First of all, he's not in my school, and second of all, it will put him under surveillance, which he doesn't need.

“Don't worry, Hana,” the guard says. “Most girls don't give up their boys. Just give me a name.”

This man thinks nothing of me lying on the record? That seems wrong somehow, but I'm grateful. “Jasper Hazel.” I could kick myself as soon as the words are out. Jasper is a boy from my school. What if they question him? What if he gets in trouble? Why didn't I just make up a name?

The guard doesn't notice my distress and just scribbles my answers on his notepad. “A guard will escort you home. He'll have to speak to your parents though.”

I swallow hard. What will Dad say? He'll definitely be mad, especially after I was stopped a few nights ago. He's going to be speechless. I've never really caused a moment's trouble, always playing by the rules, doing things the safe way. And now I've gotten into trouble twice in one week.

When we finish with the report, a guard takes me to another car. She lets me out of my cuffs and points in my face. “You're lucky they're letting you go,” she says. “You ran away. You could have been locked up for days.”

My stomach drops.
Locked up?

We make the rest of the ride in the quiet of night. I've never been through the city at night, and it's eerie, seeing house after dark house. I think about Fischer. Does he know why I didn't make it, or does he assume I changed my mind? Worse, did he get caught himself?

At my house the guard knocks on the door loud enough to wake Dad, but hopefully not the neighbors. The door flies open, and Dad stands in the doorway disheveled and confused.

His eyes land on me and his shock is apparent for all to see. “What's going on here?”

“Your daughter was out after curfew, Mr. Norfolk. I'm afraid she was going to meet a boy.”

His eyes widen wildly, a thick wrinkle forming between his brows.

I can almost hear his thoughts,
What about Keegan?
It's no secret to either of our families that we intend to be together.

“This is her first offense, so we're letting her off easy. She ran from the guards, though, so next time it will be a lot worse.” I flinch, wishing she would've left off that last sentence.

My dad's nostrils flare and he pulls me inside. “There won't be a next time. I'm sorry for your trouble.”

The guard nods and retreats to her car.

My dad closes the door and stares at his feet for a long time. When he raises his head, his eyes are clear, not clouded by confusion anymore. “What were you doing?”

I swallow. “You heard her. I was meeting someone.” It comes out as a whisper. I've never told any serious lies before, and I'm not very good at it. And maybe it isn't a lie. I really was meeting someone.

“You weren't meeting anyone—at least not some boy. I know you better than that. Even if you were, you wouldn't have run from the guard unless it was important that you do so. I don't know how they couldn't see straight through your story, but I'm glad they didn't. I want you to tell me what's going on.”

I stare at him, speechless. I never knew Dad paid so much attention to me. And I wrestle with what to say. Do I tell him about the chemo drugs? About Ava's brother? About the blinking lights? Fischer?

“Something strange is going on, Dad,” I finally say. “It's not the way I always thought it was.”

“What do you me, ‘something strange'?” His words are clipped. Impatient.

I watch his face, trying to gauge how much to say. Is he really going to believe me?

“I overheard the doctors talking about giving Mom chemo drugs. I didn't even know they had chemotherapy anymore, Dad. How could they not give it to her?”

“You shouldn't question their judgment, Hana. I still don't see how this relates to you sneaking out in the middle of the night. Who were you going to meet? Some group of backdoor chemotherapy salesmen?”

“Dad!”

“Well, who then? If you think you can explain, then I'm asking you to try.”

“There are other strange things going on.” I fumble for explanations that will make sense. “My friend, Ava, hasn't been allowed to see her brother for a week, and I saw blinking lights in the sky.”

“Hana, you've got to stop this nonsense.”

“You don't think this is important?” I ask.

“It doesn't matter if I think it's important. What matters is whether or not you trust the Greaters and their ability to take care of us. If they don't think she needs the chemo, then she probably doesn't. It also matters that we keep the law so we don't end up in some Lesser City. That means not breaking curfew, not entertaining anti-government thoughts, and not questioning the rules of our society.” His voice rises and his face turns red.

“You don't think there are more important things than making the Greaters happy?” I demand. But one sentence sticks out to me:
…so we don't end up in some Lesser city.
Is that all that matters to him?

“You're young, Hana. You're going to have lots of passion for lots of things. Save it for your occupation. You can save the world then.”