Deliverance (24 page)

I smile and laugh softly. “I missed you, too.”

“How are you?”

I shrug, happy to stay so close to him forever. “Fine, all things considered. I'm pretty sure I can never return to Greater City.”

He smiles back, his movements slow and cautious like he's afraid if he moves too quickly I'll disappear. This Fischer is different. He isn't the calm, confident boy I met all those many weeks ago.

Some battle is raging in his mind—I can see it in his eyes.

Suddenly, his lips crush mine. The moment is so shocking that at first I freeze, but then it's intoxicating and I kiss him back, my lips moving over his in abandon.

I don't know how long he kisses me, but he finally pulls away. His breaths are fast and shallow, and he closes his eyes again and leans his forehead against mine.

“I'm sorry,” he croaks.

“I'm not sorry at all.”

We stay that way for long moments, and he finally draws back. “I guess I need to take a look at that head wound.”

Head wound? Who has a head wound?

He moves to one of the cabinets, and puts in a code, then pulls out a few bottles and medical supplies. His fingers move lithely over my head, brushing my matted hair out of the way and cleaning then stitching the wound. “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head slightly. I'm flying right now. Nothing in the world could hurt me. “What is that?” I ask.

“Tech Meds,” he says. “I never imagined such things existed.” He puts some of the salve on my head and it cools my wound.

“They give Tech Meds to Lessers?”

His brow furrows and he moves to put the meds away. “These aren't regular Lessers.”

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head and sighs. “I haven't figured it out yet, at least not all the way.” He takes a clean towel from a drawer and dips it in water, then begins wiping the blood from my ear, neck, and face. “Did you do this on purpose?”

“It was the only way to stay here longer. They wanted us to get the prisoners inside then leave. I had no idea you would be here, though. If I had known, I would have found a way here much sooner.”

He smiles and keeps wiping. His touch is so gentle. “Have you heard from any of your family since you left?”

Family!

“Fischer, I met your father.”

His hand freezes, poised over my right shoulder. “What?”

“During training we traveled to several Lesser cities. In 3, we passed the hospital, and I saw him. I spoke to him, and he was worried about you.” The memory of Lesser 3 hurts so badly that I want to disintegrate in the small chair, but I push those thoughts away and let him bask in the knowledge that I saw his father.

Fischer's face takes on that same awed look he had months ago when I told him why I wanted to help the Lessers. Finally, his gaze drops and he continues his work. “What did you tell him?”

“All I knew, which was nothing. I said I hadn't heard from you in several weeks. He asked that if I ever found you to let him know, and I promised. I'll find a way to get word to him now.”

He smiles slightly. “If anyone can, it's you.”

I smile back and he finishes up. He has information I desperately want—what goes on in this place—but I can wait a few more minutes. I swallow hard. “Now what?”

“I don't know. If you return to the guards, they'll prepare to leave.” He tosses the dirty towels in a bin. “For now, I'll say you're dizzy and you need to lie down for a while. We'll figure it out from there.” He moves to a HELP comp on the wall and taps in a code. A woman's face appears.

I've never seen this option on my own HELP comp. Speaking live to someone in a different part of the prison? It seems unreal.

“What do you need, Medic Brown?” the woman asks.

“The injured guard is dizzy. She lost quite a bit of blood from her head wound. I need her to lie down and rest for a couple of hours. Can you relay the information to the warden?”

“Will do,” the woman says. She pushes a button. “I'll call him now.”

Fischer turns from the HELP comp and sits in a chair beside me. “Have you spoken with anyone else, besides my father?”

I pause, unsure of what to tell him first. “I found my mom in Lesser City 3 as well. They said she passed away as soon as she arrived.”

His eyes soften and he takes my hand. “I'm sorry, Hana.”

I attempt a smile, but it comes out wrong. “Thanks.” I take a deep breath and continue. “I also saw Keegan. He's a musician, and he comes to play for the Greaters. They put a stop to my seeing him pretty fast, though.”

“Why?”

I'm almost embarrassed to admit it. “I haven't exactly been obeying all the laws in Greater City. I know, very shocking.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Most people's dream and you manage to mess it up.”

“It was never my dream,” I say quickly. “They could have helped my mom. They could have left us alone, and I never would have done anything illegal.” The words come out more vehemently than I mean for them too, and I immediately regret it. “I'm sorry, Fischer. I don't mean I'm sorry for everything that's happened. Ignorance isn't always bliss, and I'm not sorry I met you, or learned about God. I just—”

He doesn't speak, only listens. He's good at that.

I don't know how to finish, so I just shrug. He pulls me toward him and I lay my head on his shoulder. I glance up at him and take a moment to study him, to really take him in. His hair is longer than it used to be, but only by a few inches. His eyes still twinkle with the light, and his smile is still ready, but he seems tired. He doesn't move as easily as he did before, and a faint bruise darkens his right jawline.

“What happened to your face?” I ask, brushing my fingers over the spot.

“Maybe I learned a few non-compliant behaviors from you.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Why did you end up here?”

“They had to get rid of me somehow, but they didn't want to 'waste my talents' on regular Lessers. They sent me here instead.”

“And you've been here all this time? Ever since you left my house the night Supreme Moon came?” He nods and I sigh. “I'm sorry I got you in trouble.”

“You didn't get me in trouble. I was involved in so-called illegal activity before I met you. You just helped make it a little more obvious.” He finishes with the grin that I love, and I can't stop my laugh. It's hard to believe any of this is real. When I first came to Greater City, I was sure I would see him again, but as the weeks went by and things got worse, I had given up on the idea.

“Can I get up?” I ask. “My foot is starting to cramp.”

He waves his hand around the room. “Be my guest.”

I stand slowly, trying to keep from getting dizzy. My head does swim for a moment, but I stabilize quickly. Large windows line the walls and I move to them. The lake stretches out before me, and beyond it, Greater City.

“I have thought of you every single day,” Fischer says softly. He moves to stand beside me and after a moment, his fingers intertwine with mine. Warmth surges through my hand, up my arm, and into my heart. I've waited for this to happen, longed for it to happen.

No wonder Jamie had a hard time resisting Easton last school year.

But a future with Fischer seems almost impossible. How is he going to escape from this place? And once I leave, I surely won't be able to come back. What does the future look like for him? For me? For Keegan?

Thinking of Keegan brings a flash of guilt, but I push it away. I can't choose between him and Fischer, not today, not with the way my life is shaping up. At least Fischer and Keegan have the promise of a stable future. Fischer will be here, tending to the patients, and Keegan will continue his life in Middle City 1, singing and entertaining the masses.

I will be alone, cast out.

You will never be alone.

How do I keep forgetting that? I pray a quick prayer for forgiveness and force myself to push the thoughts away.

“I have looked out that window and seen Greater City, and I've known you were there,” Fischer says.

I smile, thinking of the pier on the other side of the lake. “I used to sit over there and look at this place. Maybe we've been looking at each other and never knew it.”

He returns my smile and tightens his grip on my hand.

I won't think about our future, at least not right now. For this moment, I have Fischer. And that is all that matters.

 

 

 

 

39

 

 

We stand together for long minutes, gazing out toward Greater City and just being happy to see each other. Finally, I pull away from him and turn my attention to the rest of the room. I move across the space, fingering this and that.

“Your HELP comp is different than the one I have in Greater City.” I tap on the screen and it glows to life.

“This one does research,” he says. “I can type in symptoms, or almost anything I need to know and it will bring up the answer. It's especially helpful with patient histories or when I need to cross reference medications.”

A question weighs on my mind. Should I ask it?

“Do any of the prisoners get the mutation?”

He seems to know what I'm asking before I have to say it. He turns his attention to the HELP screen and taps in “Chemotherapy”.

Request Denied
flashes on the screen.

At first I feel relief—they didn't help my mom, but they're not helping anyone else, either—but the relief is quickly replaced by guilt. How could I wish to deny anyone else the help they might need? The truth is the help shouldn't be denied to anyone, at least not based on their social class.

“What do you do around here for fun?” I ask, tapping here and there. Other boxes line his comp, but there are none for music or movies.

“There's no time for fun. The prisoners are always training, and during training someone always gets hurt. The rest of the time I sleep.”

It's almost the same answer he gave me in Middle City 3 when I asked if he ever got a day off. I think the truth is closer to the fact that Fischer likes to work. I don't bring this up, though.

“I didn't see anyone training when I came in.”

“They don't train during new arrival times. It tends to cause chaos.”

Images of veteran prisoners taunting the new ones, or the new ones revolting, cross my mind. No, it wouldn't be a good situation. I point in the direction of the other building that I haven't seen. “Is that where everyone sleeps?”

He nods.

The HELP comp flashes and beeps and I back away. “Uh-oh. What did I do?”

Passcode required
flashes on screen.

“It's OK.” He types in a code and the flashing stops. “Whatever you're trying to access needs my approval, that's all.”

I've had enough of the Greater's technology, though, so I move back to my seat.

“Can you tell me what you've learned while you've been here?”

He sighs and leans against the wall near the HELP comp. “New transports arrive every two weeks. The prisoners are trained in the art of war. They learn tactics, fighting techniques, survival skills—anything they might need in war time to survive. Some learn faster than others, but that is tolerated. They don't 'graduate' until they are experts.”

“Who are we at war with?” I'm almost afraid to know. Will an unknown enemy invade our country? When will they come? And why?

“I don't know.” I can hear the frustration in his voice. “I don't get most of the pertinent information, only what I need to treat the patients, but a flying transport arrives once a month. It's happened three times since I've arrived. The transport takes any soldiers who are ready for war, and they leave. Those soldiers never return.”

Chill bumps race up my arms and I shiver. It sounds terrible.

“There are other Lesser cities,” I say. “Did you know that?”

He frowns and shakes his head.

“There are eight all together. The outlying cities grow crops, raise herds of cattle and sheep, run textile industries, and who knows what else. Where do those supplies go? Who are we growing them for? They apparently don't benefit our own citizens.”

It's obvious by the lost look on his face that this is all new to him. “I don't understand.”

“I don't, either, but there's more. I found a group of Christians in an old, ruined town on the outskirts of Greater City. It's called Broken City. They call themselves the Free, and they say there are people like them all over the land. They said things weren't always this way in our country, but that something happened to change the Greaters. That was when religion was outlawed and things got tough for the Lessers.”

“Are you sure you can trust those people?” He reminds me of Guard Nev. He's so used to being in control that he doesn't trust anything he hasn't checked out for himself.

“They helped me get here,” I say with a shrug. “They even gave me instructions on where to go when I get out.”

A loud ringing pierces our ears then stops suddenly. We frown and look around, but only a moment later, a din of voices fills the air. At first it's distant, but soon it grows into a roar.

“What is that?” I ask.

Fischer races to the door and throws it open. “I don't see anything—” he begins, but stops.

I hear his voice in two ways. One because he's standing in the room with me, but two because everything he said has been amplified over the prison-wide speakers. My gaze flies to the HELP comp. Whatever I activated on his screen broadcasted our conversation to the entire prison.

The shouting is more distinct now. Something breaks in a room down the stairs and footsteps pound on the concrete floors like a herd of marching soldiers. I shudder when I realize that is exactly what it is.

“They heard us,” I whisper with a gasp.

His face becomes as white as snow and he swallows. “Everyone heard us. The warden, the guards...”