The Collector (13 page)

“What was that?” Neil asks.

“It means love.”

Neil furrows his brow. His already terrible dance moves fall even more out of step as he scans for Inna, but she’s gone.

Abby glimpses Neil’s search while conversing with another group of residents. Her eyes direct him towards a pathway leading to the outskirts of the bayou.

“It’s okay to feel,” Elijah assures him, his nod encouraging Neil to go after Inna. Neil steps out of the circle and dashes towards the path.

Neil finds Inna at the end of a dock where a swamp marshland once was. Three-inch cracks slice throughout the parched terrain, having been thirsty for years. The echoing music slows as the party takes a break, the harmonica capturing an essence of heartache and longing with its distinct sound.

As Inna notices Neil approaching, she does her best to contain her muffled sobs.

“Inna…”

“Do you ever think about doing it?” Inna asks. “Selling yourself to escape to another world?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Neil responds, for once sounding like the naïve one.

She breaks down even more, this time failing to contain it. “Remember what you called me when we first met? Guess I’m not so cheery now.”

“I have that effect on people.”

Inna musters out a laugh. Neil touches her. He places the Dream Catcher around her neck, then wipes her cheek with his thumb. “You need this more than me,” he says.

They gaze at one another until Neil leans in and kisses her. Inna returns it, soft and innocent. The dead forest, the weathered terrain, the rotted wooden dock – it’s not the epitome of romance, but to Neil and Inna, this is their world, all that they have. It’s almost as if they float above the cracked earth and through a hazy fog as their lips become one, two souls soaring above the wasteland. The harmonica adds to the dreamlike moment.

Neil’s hands lock around her waist, then move to her shoulders, his fingers feeling the tension in her body slip away as she allows herself to get lost in the moment.

Their lips continue to touch until Neil accidentally brushes against the bruise on the backside of her neck. She pulls away, the reminder of her life with Damian snapping her back to reality.

“Neil, no…,” she says as the dreamlike fog suddenly dissipates and the two of them are back on the battered dock.

“I’m sorry. It just happened,” Neil responds. His words are no accident. He knows he is quoting Wade, but he’s starting to understand what Wade meant by it.

“If only things were different. If only this were a different life,” Inna says. She removes the Dream Catcher from her neck and places it in Neil’s hand, then closes his fingers over the webbing. “But this can never be.”

Later that night, beyond a reasonable hour when anybody should be awake, Inna tiptoes in and closes the door to her antique shop. Turning, she spots Damian pretending to work on the broken AM/FM radio by candlelight at the counter.

“Infidelity is against penal code,” he ominously warns.

“You’re only reassigned once. If I go they won’t issue you another.”

“Unless you take your own life,” Damian reminds her of the technicality.

“If only you could be so lucky,” she snaps back.

Though morbid, they are both right. Per code, if something happens to a citizen’s partner, such as terminal disease, sickness, or an accidental death, they are reassigned to another partner. This is what happened to Damian after Tess was caught in the flood at the base of the Strasburg Dam. However, this can only happen once. The exception to this code is suicide, which doesn’t happen often anymore considering one can legally sell their life to the Agency in exchange for rations, thus it is no longer an appealing way out. If a person does choose to commit suicide, then no matter which number their partner is on they will be reassigned to another. The fine print in the Agency contract makes it explicitly clear that voluntarily selling one’s life does not fall under the definition of suicide, and therefore a new partner will not be assigned. Not many volunteers take the time to read through all the rules and technicalities since they are desperate to immediately provide their families with rations, so loved ones are often left alone with no possibility of ever being reassigned.

Not having the energy to deal with Damian and his bitter attitude right now, Inna storms towards the stairs.

But Damian breaks after her.

At the same time Inna and Damian are having their argument in the slums, Leslie straddles Neil in bed high up in his apartment in the Downtown Sector. In their second session together, Leslie is dressed in a French Maid costume, sexy and in full character, though Neil’s mind is clearly someplace else.

“Don’t get mad. It happens to a lot of Collectors,” she encourages him with a fake accent, gyrating her hips and rubbing her hands across his chest. “Just relax. Think of something nice.”

Neil closes his eyes as she massages between his legs. “That’s it,” she says with a smile. Her eyes close too as she begins to
hum
. Neil’s face turns sour as it doesn’t compare to Inna’s sweet melody.

“That’s not it,” he says.

“Mmmmm-hmmm.”

“No, it’s not. Stop,” he demands.

“Believe me, Neil, it’s not hard to find,” she says, her mind remaining on the task at hand. She kisses Neil’s neck. “Don’t be so tense. I’ll do whatever you want. I was assigned to you.”

But Neil doesn’t want this. “Just stop singing!”

Inna and Damian’s spat continues up the stairs. She ascends them two at a time, with Damian close behind.

“Did you watch him Collect someone?” he sneers. “Did he show you where he takes the bodies? Did he touch you?” Damian yanks her by the arm. “Answer me. Did he touch you?”

“Not like you do,” Inna replies, cutting him with her words.

Damian smacks her out of habit, his face turning sour. Inna recoils from the surprise attack holding her cheek, then sprints towards the bedroom.

Damian limps after her. “You’re assigned to me. Not him.” He catches up and grabs her.

“Get off me,” Inna shouts.

Damian shoves her to the bed and pins her down. “I can do whatever I want,” he claims as he overpowers her. He kisses her neck and chest before tearing off her pants, though Inna won’t hold still. As she continues to claw and flail, Damian hits her once, then again before ripping at her shirt.

“Stop. Please stop. Oh God...,” she cries out, breaking into tears.

“God? Your God is punishing me,” Damian says in defeat as he suddenly stops and takes it all in – his outburst, Inna crying, her ripped clothes. While he has issues, he doesn’t sit in the same place on the spectrum as someone like Slayter. His thoughts and words might be similar, but he’s too much of a coward to follow through on them. He becomes disgusted with himself. “I had Tess and He took her from me.” Damian pushes her away before heading back towards the stairs. “I want her, not you.”

Inna clinches the sheets with her fists, her body tense as her eyes find the window. For a brief moment, the sky clears as the moon reflects off her tears.

Back in Neil’s apartment, Leslie continues in character as she crawls over and goes down on him. “I’ll do whatever you want,” she offers with her faux French accent.

“I want you to go.”

“Our session’s not over,” she reminds him.

“I don’t want you!” he says as he shoves her away.

Leslie tries to straddle him once more, but he overpowers her. She drops the act. “Non-participation is a clear sign of emotional distress,” she warns. “The Agency will be hearing about this in my report.” She gathers her things and storms out, leaving Neil alone on the side of the bed, the moon reflecting off his face.

At that exact moment, both Neil and Inna face towards the moon – sharing a connection through the white orb that gloriously fills the sky even when things remain dire down below. Maybe that’s what makes it comforting. They’re both torn, both distraught, both conflicted about the choices they’ve made, yet the moon remains steadfast in its ability to shine through the chaos and soothe their souls. All they have to do is look up.

But what they don’t know is that they have each started down a path they can’t turn back from. That no matter how hard they try, they are both trapped within the confines of the horseshoe-shaped Wall, trapped by the strict codes of the Agency, trapped by the often unfair web of basic emotions that seems to keep drawing them together. For once one strokes the fire of a human connection on a deeper level, there is no extinguishing it. For some that can be a blessing, a goal in life that one can only hope to achieve and make this journey all worthwhile, but for a Collector and a slum girl, in a city surrounded by death, there can be no greater curse if each wishes to remain alive.

******

Wish Upon A Star

Sometimes I stare at the moon and dream how nice it would be if we could colonize another planet and start over. Would we make the same mistakes? Or would we do things differently and be more proactive? Based on what I see from people day in and day out, I’m not sure starting over would be any better...

Yuck! Good thing the moon is rarely visible because these thoughts sure are depressing!

-Quado

11

W
hite light from the glowing orb continues to bathe over Neil. However, this time it is not the moon, it’s the bright fluorescent lights inside Dani’s Diner.

Neil and Slayter eat at a booth opposite one another. Slayter stuffs his mouth like a barbarian, then chugs his water in one gulp. “Waiter,” he shouts for more, wiping his lip. Waiter sees Slayter’s glass raised, overwhelmingly busy. Slayter shreds a piece of bread with his teeth. “Shitty service, Neil. Why do you come here?”

Neil notices a HELP WANTED sign leaned near the register, the same sign Wade put on display when he first broke the news to Paiton that he was no longer a Collector and instead wanted for them to leave together.

Waiter steps in and blocks Neil’s view of the sign. “I’m sorry, we’re understaffed at the moment. Just lost our best waitress,” the waiter apologizes, trying to catch his breath as he pours Slayter a refill of water.

Neil knows he is talking about Paiton. He also knows that he and Slayter are the reason she is no longer employed – or living. The waiter recognizes Neil as one of the regulars. “Where’s your partner?” he asks.

“Retired,” Slayter interrupts. “I’m his partner now.” Slayter points to Neil’s glass. “Get his too.”

“I’m fine,” Neil refutes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like we’re paying for it,” Slayter quips with a bellowing laugh, indulging himself with his drink.

Neil sips from his refilled glass to comply. “You going to the gala tonight?” he asks.

“You kidding? Leave guard duty to the SEOs. There’s too much real work to do,” Slayter responds.

Silence falls as Neil brushes the notion of the gala out of his mind. He remembers Inna expressed interest in going, but after the events of the previous night, that should be more than enough reason for him to stay far away. He agrees with Slayter to leave the gala to the SEOs. He does have other work to do, specifically regarding the Black Market. He contemplates revealing his recent discovery regarding the forgotten tunnels, but it still makes him uneasy – the thought of someone helping Sage from the inside. As unnerving as it is, however, currently it is his only angle into his assignment. “I think I found something,” he shares.

“Brigade?”

“Not exactly. With Sage and the Black Market,” Neil responds. Slayter furrows his brow as Neil leans forward to continue, “Did you know the transfer tunnels we use are only half of what exist? I think someone might be helping them use the other half, someone within the Agency.”

Slayter remains stoic and cold, not exactly the reaction Neil was expecting. “That is not your assignment,” Slayter states.

“Both Sage and the Brigade operate outside the system. It isn’t farfetched to think they might overlap. She could give us a lead,” Neil rationalizes.

“Find a new lead,” Slayter commands. “You’re wasting your energy.” He takes a swig of water, then justifies his stance. “I already looked into it. Sage is not our problem. Where’d you hear this?”

“Down at the Archives. And piecing together Quado’s posts.”

“Exactly. That’s the route you should go,” Slayter suggests. He calls out for more water, “Waiter!” As Waiter once again obliges and fills Slayter’s glass, Neil’s eyes remain fixated on the table. Slayter notices. “What now?” he asks.

“You ever feel like we’re becoming more like those bounty hunters?” Neil wonders aloud. Slayter squints at the question. Those are dangerous words to mutter. Neil clarifies, “We’re the last contact these people have, yet they’re scared of us. They don’t know what to expect anymore. We’ve thrown protocol out the window.” Slayter cocks his head in confusion as drops of water drip from his chin. “Can’t we at least show them some compassion?” Neil asks, reiterating Inna’s same question.

Slayter nearly chokes on his water. “There’s no room for compassion in our job,” he states bluntly. “I know how you are about protocol so let me explain it to you. Our protocol comes down to one simple thing: life or death.” He slides his empty cup away and rises to leave, transitioning into his lesson, “You volunteer. You die.”

They move to the register. The same Bearded Bum flails his arms, gesturing violently against them getting free water again. Slayter incorporates the bum into his lecture. “You speak out or go against the Agency...,” he grabs Bearded Bum and drags him away, “you die.”

Outside the diner, Slayter tosses Bearded Bum to the curb in front of an SEO. The SEO binds Bearded Bum’s hands and hauls him away.

Neil and Slayter move down the sidewalk. “You break penal code or aid someone breaking code…,” Slayter pauses for effect, the theme of his message becoming quite clear, “you die.”

Slayter stops a citizen to perform a random identification check. He takes the citizen’s blood sample and compares the result from the identity database with the citizen’s ID card. “You know your place and do as told…” Slayter confirms the blood samples are a match. “You live.” He allows the citizen to carry on their way.