Poor Little Dead Girls (35 page)

“Whatever they did, they did it to her too,” Sadie murmured, flipping through the printed pages. “Do you think there’s any way she knows about this?”

Jessica shook her head. “Who knows? Nothing Thayer does makes sense to me. I mean, she makes out with Finn. On purpose.”

Jessica picked up one of the handwritten sheets. “My dog has better handwriting than this. I can’t read any of it.” She peered over Sadie’s shoulder. “What’s all that stuff? Looks like blood work.”

Sadie was holding a page covered with a list of medical-sounding terms, each one with a corresponding number.

“Blood work?”

“Yeah, you know, when your parents go in to get their cholesterol checked or whatever. They get a big printout like that. My dad always brags about his for like three days afterward because he’s convinced his coconut-kale smoothies are, like, the secret to everlasting vitality.” She pointed to a line on the paper. “See, that’s her cholesterol level, which … yikes.” She shook her head with mock sincerity. “Skinny fat is an epidemic.”

“They told me they tested our blood to make sure we were eligible to reproduce,” Sadie said. “God, I can’t even say that without feeling like I’m in a late-night movie on the Syfy Channel.”

“Wait, Sadie.” Jessica held up a piece of paper. “I don’t think that’s all they tested.”

It was covered with a series of lines, almost like a barcode, but with little dashes of varying widths in multiple columns.

Sadie shook her head. “What is that?”

“Assuming the many hours of cop shows I’ve watched make me a legitimate expert — and they should — these are the results of a DNA test.”

The Sullas had her DNA.

Suddenly Teddy’s comments about creating a new class — a new race — didn’t sound so overblown. How far were they planning to go?

“Whatever they were testing for, looks like she passed,” Jessica murmured, showing her a second page. It showed a list of genetic conditions and a series of percentages that detailed Thayer’s risk for each condition. All the numbers were tiny, and at the bottom was a black stamp. “Suitable.”

“Wait, what are we doing?” Sadie dropped the pages and ran down the line of filing cabinets, pulling open one drawer after another until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the file and spread it on the floor. The DNA testing form looked a little different — simpler, with fewer measurements — but she recognized the barcode pattern. She flipped to the last page and scanned to the bottom. She stared at the words while the room spun around her, pitching and rolling like she was in the eye of a storm.

“She failed the test.”

“Wait, what? Who?” Jessica glanced up from Thayer’s chart, and when she saw Sadie’s face she dropped everything and went to her side.

“My mom.”

She showed Jessica the last page. Her risk was high in multiple categories, and at the bottom was a single word in bold capital letters.
UNSUITABLE
.

“What does this mean? Do you think this is why she ran away?”

Sadie closed her eyes. “I don’t know, but … this doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit. Unless — ”

Anna’s folder was filed right in front of Maylynne’s. She grabbed for it eagerly, forcing herself not to rip the thing apart in the process.

“What are you looking for?”

She talked as she scanned the pages. “Maybe they couldn’t just let Maylynne go. She knew too much after going through the initiation process. Then when she didn’t pass, maybe they decided to get rid of her. They … I don’t know, they tried to kill her, or they got her hooked on drugs and messed her up so badly no one would believe her even if she tried to talk. Then she ran away.”

“Jeez.” Jessica glanced around her then, and Sadie felt a new fear settle over them like a fog. She could taste it — sharp and metallic like undercooked meat. “And?”

“And if that’s what happened to my mom, maybe the same thing happened to Anna.” She swallowed. “They were family, after all. It would make sense if they both failed.”

She flipped to the last page and scanned to the bottom.

“Damn it.” She smashed her fist against the filing cabinet, and the crash echoed loudly around the room. “This can’t be right.”

Jessica leaned in over her shoulder. “She passed.”

Sadie closed the file and dropped it back in the cabinet.

“Do you want to look for yours?”

She shook her head. “I already know I passed. I just need a second to think.” Sadie leaned her head against the cool metal, forcing her breath to slow and her mind to grow calm. Every time she thought she knew something, things changed. If her mom hadn’t passed, what did they even want with her? And if her mom had been unsuitable, why wasn’t she?

“Hey Sadie, you might want to come over here.”

Jessica was across the room, standing in front of one of the doors that led off the main room. It was the source of the cold draft — Sadie could feel the cold air flowing toward her now, and the room grew colder with every step. She hugged herself as she stepped through the doorway.

The room was long and narrow, with shelves lining the walls. A thick fog swirled along the floor and crept toward them like a living thing. Sadie lifted a foot. “What is this stuff?”

“Dry ice.” Jessica’s voice was flat. She was standing in front of one of the shelves. They were stacked with small metal canisters, each one like a big silver thermos with a little white label. Jessica reached a hand back and took Sadie’s arm, drawing her toward the shelf. She squeezed. “Look.”

Sadie squinted. “What does it say? It’s so dark in here.”

Jessica pulled her closer. The canister was labeled with a series of symbols that looked mildly familiar, like she had seen them a million times at the doctor’s office, but never really bothered to look. One was the biohazard sign, but she didn’t recognize the others.

“They’re eggs, Sadie.”

“Like, for scrambling? Why would they — ”

“No. Eggs.” Jessica’s voice was soft. “My mom went through IVF when they were trying to have my little brother. This is how they store them.”

Then Sadie was a million miles away. The operating suite, the puncture marks in her arm, the pain in her stomach, that feeling of fullness and emptiness at the same time. She ran her fingers over the label to make sure it was real.

The eggs were hers.

“You okay?”

Sadie shook her head. She could barely feel her feet on the floor. She was suspended in the thick, cold air. Choking.

Jessica squeezed her hand and pulled. “Let’s go.”

Sadie let Jessica pull her along toward the door. Her head was a mess, all of her thoughts half-baked and intertwined. She shook her head and pressed her eyes shut, but nothing came loose. She needed to get home to think.

“Jess, hurry. I need to get out of here.”

Jessica stood in front of the double doors, her back to Sadie. “I know, but — ”

“But what?”

Jessica turned around, and Sadie could see panic in her eyes. “It’s locked. Maybe it was on a timer or some — ”

Then the lights went out, and they were in total darkness.

Even before the chopper blades started up, she knew where they were going. Back to Keating, back to the tower, where they would figure out what to do with her. She wondered if her mom had taken this trip after they found out she wasn’t of any use to them. She wondered if Anna had.

She thought about what the nurse had said about her mom. “Swimming. Got too close to the rocks.” At the time, she had pictured her laughing and splashing around with friends on the beach, carelessly drifting toward the rocks. Now she only wondered who had pushed her, and how she had managed to survive the fall.

She could feel herself slipping in and out of consciousness. They had given her something that made her feel flat and plastic, like she was all body and no brain.

She thought about Jess. After the lights went out, Sadie knew it was over. There was no use fighting them, not like that. Wordlessly, she had pushed Jessica into the storage closet and placed a hand over her mouth. She had tried to protest, but Sadie had shut the door in her face. She had to do this part alone.

It was only seconds before they had swarmed in and taken her. She had felt the hood slip over her head, the now-familiar pricking sensation in her arm, and then she had gone under. He had whispered in her ear one last time before things had gone black: “It’ll all be over soon.”

When she woke up, she was in the tower. She could hear the wind roaring outside the stone walls and the rumble of the waves as they launched their nightly assault. She was stretched out on a couch, and her legs were freezing. She was in the boring black cocktail dress she had borrowed from Jess, and it occurred to her that she was already ready for her funeral. When they found her body, at least for once she would be properly dressed. The thought made her want to laugh out loud, but she couldn’t.

She looked around the room, and even though it was dark, she knew exactly where she was. Across from her was the large desk and high-backed leather chair. Nothing moved.

She tugged down the hem of her dress and tried to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that.” She felt a cold jolt of fear travel up her spine and settle at the base of her neck. She knew that voice. “I’ve been pretty fucking charitable, I think. Not tying you down.” He sounded so casual she wanted to scream. “You probably would have liked that, anyway. But I will, if I have to.”

Something was off. The voice sounded harsher somehow. The Southern drawl had melted away, leaving only cold metal. Things had changed.

“Leave me alone. Let me go — ” She tried to yell the words, but they came out slow and clumsy, sticking on her tongue like lumps of peanut butter. All of her limbs felt heavy. “What did you do to me?”

A match struck, and she heard the hiss of a wick catching flame. She saw the glow glinting off the desk’s lacquered surface. Another candle lit, and the light slowly spread to the corners of the room.

The familiar jawline was there, but the face was smooth and unwrinkled, and in that moment, her last bit of hope fizzled and snuffed itself out. Not Finn. Anyone but Finn.

He sat behind the desk, hands folded. His face was hollow in the shifting candlelight, all brittle bone and sinew. She could see a deep purple bruise under one eye. Jeremy.

“You should really be asking what you did to me. You and your whole, fucked-up family.” He stood up and walked around the side of the desk, pointing to his eye. “Not to mention your boyfriend.”

Her body recoiled as he came closer, and she pressed herself back into the cold leather of the couch. He stopped and sank into an armchair.

“I’ve got to know, though. Could you seriously not have just minded your own business for like ten minutes?” He pulled out a long, thick cigar from the breast pocket of his jacket. He held up a lighter and lit it, spinning it in his mouth and letting out small puffs of smoke as it turned. “Once they had what they wanted, they would have let you crawl back to bumblefuck wherever as long as you kept your mouth shut. But clearly you would have become a problem.”

He took a long draw and blew the smoke into the air.

“And now we have to waste time dealing with this when we have way more important shit to handle. Do you know why?”

He leaned toward her, one elbow on his knee, and let out another cloud of smoke. “Because you’re a stupid whore. Just like all the other Ralleighs.”

She felt like she had been punched in the chest. She couldn’t breathe, and the words echoed around the room and closed back in on her like a vise.

“Fuck you.”

He laughed.

She looked around. There were no windows, and the door was behind her, simultaneously just a few steps and millions of miles away.

“Like my office?” he said, waving the cigar in a slow circle.

“You mean your grandfather’s?” she said, through gritted teeth. “You’re no one.”

He breathed out a stream of smoke and grinned. “Not for long.”

He looked so smug that suddenly it was all perfectly clear. Even after everything, she was stunned.

“This is all about your family. The whole grand scheme to save the world. You don’t care about diseases or education or any of that. This is about control.”

He grinned wider.

“You’re building a dynasty.”

He looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t call it a dynasty so much as … a new strategy. Clearly the system is broken. We’re fixing it. No government lasts forever, not even Rome’s. It’s time for our next phase.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, there are two types of people in this world, and it’s time to stop pretending that isn’t true. We need some separation between the people who can and the people who can’t. Think, vote, decide, lead. But it’s not as simple as just drawing a line in the sand. We built a new ruling class from scratch. It may have taken forty years, but it was worth it.”

He sat back in his chair. “Leadership is initiative. Men take the things they need, and history rewards them for it.”

She couldn’t even believe what she was hearing. Everything he was saying was just meaningless propaganda. He was like a dutiful cult member delivering his lines. She wanted to shake him.