Deliverance (16 page)

None of this is fair or right.

Finally, when all of my tears have been spent, I pull my Bible to me and open it. The pages fall to John, and I read, “In this world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.”

This is the answer. Only God can make the wrongs of my world right.

I stand and straighten my clothes, then wash my face and get a drink. Mom has been found and it is too late for her.

It's not too late for everyone else, not yet. I can't sit in this apartment doing nothing. My mission continues tonight.

When I leave my apartment, the sun is beginning to dip below the huge, shining buildings that litter the skyline. A breeze blows, chilling me despite the warm night air. Citizens climb in and out of transporters, but I am glad I have always walked. It feels real. Alive.

My feet lead me to the lake, and I sit on a pier. A few boats dot the water, and the lights of the city dance on the waves. This lake used to be part of several lakes—the Great Lakes. I remember that from my schooling. It is still a great lake, but the other lakes are mostly dried up, like the Mississippi River back home.

The lights in the distance blink, too. Red ones.

I squint and lean forward. It's so far away, but I'm sure the red lights are in the sky this time, and not on a building.

A flying machine. It's something I haven't seen in Greater City before now, but my curiosity grows. Where did it come from? What is it used for?

Before I can stop myself, I stand and back off of the pier. There is a bridge in the distance, a bridge that extends across one part of the lake. If I can cross it, then I can double back and make my way to whatever it is that sits on the other side of the lake.

“You'll never make it,” I mumble to myself. I know it's true. The walk is too far. I can't make it there and back before morning.

Still I press on.

The ground is rock and grass mixed. The scratchy grass scrapes at my legs and I'm thankful for the thickness of my pants. My feet ache and my lungs burn by the time I reach the bridge. Apparently it is still used because a guard station blocks the bridge's entry. Two guards move inside it, talking and laughing. They stop suddenly and look in the distance.

Dust billows down the road, and I hide behind a bush as a truck rumbles to a stop at the station. It's white and shaped like a box, but nothing is written on the truck and there's no indication of what's inside. The driver climbs out and speaks with the guards. I strain to hear them.

“New recruits,” he says.

Recruits.

Keegan's words about the prison come back to me. It's a training camp for soldiers, and the soldiers are training for war.

I step closer to hear more, but my foot snaps a twig.

Great.

Pressing myself into the bush, I lower to the ground and hope no one sees me. I hold my breath and refuse to even count. Footsteps pound the pavement, and I close my eyes as they draw closer, but after a few moments, they fade into the distance. One by one, I open my eyes, and then I wait. I stay that way until I hear the rumble of the truck as it pulls away.

 

 

 

 

24

 

Now that I know Mom is gone, visiting the other Lesser cities feels like a waste of time. What I want now is to get inside that prison. I stay up half the night trying to come up with a plan, but it seems impossible. The bridge is guarded, and even if I made it down one end, most likely I would find another guard station at the other.

Swimming across the lake is out. My only other option is finding a different way to cross—going around the long way. The lake has to end somewhere.

When the auto shutters lighten the glass in the morning, I rise from bed and hurry to get dressed. The faster my training is over for the day, the faster I can go back to the lake. Once I'm ready to head out, I open my door and notice a small piece of paper that's been slid underneath.

Meet me in the alley
.

There is no indication as to who wrote the note. Can I trust it? It could be some kind of trap. But then I realize there is no one who would trap me in an alley in Greater City. If Supreme Moon wanted me dead he would just send me away, and surely he knows that if he wants to catch me doing something illegal, he just has to wait me out.

I hurry to the stairs and jog the seven flights down. After a few weeks in Greater City, I don't even get winded.

The door to the alley squeals open, and I stop short when I nearly stumble into Guard Nev. He paces outside my building, dressed in clothes that look like mine. It's the first time I've seen him without a uniform.

His face is a mixture of purple and green bruises. One eye is swollen, and two of his fingers are wrapped. One of his ears has an ugly scab covering the entire lobe.

I gasp. “Guard Nev, I'm so sorry.” I'm not even sure what I'm apologizing for, but somehow I know this is my fault. Supreme Moon used Guard Nev's punishment to punish me.

He stops and shrugs. “It's OK. I've had worse.”

I find that really hard to believe, but I don't say so.

The brick walls of the buildings on either side of us protect us from the watchful eyes of Greater City. The people whip by in transporters, and the only cam disk I see points toward the street. We are safe here. “What are you doing here? Did they reassign you to me?”

“No,” he says quietly. “I'm here to help you. I won't be able to see you often, or for long periods of time, but I'll help you.”

My mouth falls open, and I stare for a few moments before I can shake myself. They pushed him too far, just like they did me, only he's known and kept their secrets for years. Their betrayal goes much deeper for him.

“Thank you. I want to go across the lake. I found a bridge.”

His eyebrows raise, but he doesn't question me. “There's only one way across the bridge, and that is on a transport truck. You would either have to ride in as a prisoner or a guard. If you went as a prisoner you wouldn't get to leave, but if you went as a guard you would need identification.”

My hopes fall flat. So getting across is impossible.

“I'll see what I can do. It may be a few days before I can get what you need.”

What I need? “What does that mean?”

Guard Nev holds out his arm. I see a small bump on his forearm, no bigger than a bug bite. “It's an identification chip. Every guard has one. There are certain check points throughout the city, as well as the city gates of each of the Middle and Lesser cities. Every time a guard passes a checkpoint, they are scanned and checked in. They will do that at the bridge, and you will need to be identifiable.”

Guard Nev had his arm scanned the night I tried to get away from him, the night he was on Supreme Moon's porch with the secretary. I swallow hard and rub my arm. “Does it hurt?”

His serious face vanishes and he chuckles. “That's what you're worried about? You should be more concerned with the fact that you will be permanently marked by the government. Can you live with that?”

I glance at my arm and consider how it would feel to cut it open and take out the tracking device.

“I think so,” I say.

“Then I'll help you. I have to ask, though, what do you think you're going to find on the other side of that bridge?”

I shift on the pavement, rocks sliding beneath my feet. What do I expect to find? Finally, I say, “Answers.”

“Well, you should find that if nothing else.”

There is something else I want to know—something I've been searching for since I arrived—but I'm afraid to bring it up. Again I'm reminded of how brave Fischer must have been on that roof all those weeks ago.

“Guard Nev? Do you know any Christians in Greater City?”

He frowns, his eyes serious and searching. “I don't know.”

I take a nervous breath and plunge ahead. “I believe in God, and I would like to find others who do, as well.”

Emotions dance across his face as he considers my request. “I will see what I can find out, but that's as dangerous of a road as forged identification. More so, I think.”

“I know.” Didn't Supreme Moon watch my dreams just to see if he could find the Christians?

He nods. “If you're sure.” He takes a step away and I stop him.

“When will I see you again?” I need this one connection, one friend.

“I don't know. I'll be in touch.” He pauses, a thoughtful look on his face. “You need to use this time to prepare yourself. Learn the city. Learn everything you can.”

This is where Kassy's help will come in handy.

I nod and he leaves then, leaves me standing alone in the alley. I can't get in through the locked door. I don't want to leave via the alley in case the cam disks are being watched, but I have no other choice. I wait a few minutes until I'm sure he's gone, and then I slip back into the regular world.

 

 

 

 

25

 

Professor Higgins discusses the city architecture the next morning in class. Three of the trainees will move into city zoning and planning, and they hope to rebuild some of the older, more unstable city structures. I lean forward. Maybe I can glean information I might be able to use in the future.

The city is built on an underground sewage system that was never meant to last and be used for five hundred years. As a result, the city is constantly shifting locations when old parts collapse and wear away. Most of the buildings have been remodeled and updated, but many of the structures are old and unstable. The hope is to construct new buildings as the city continues shifting. This would require tearing down the dilapidated buildings that stand in the way of rezoning, and this requires workers who are willing to get their hands dirty—in other words, not Greaters.

“What happens to the older parts of the city as we move away from them?” Kassy asks. It's the first time she's ever shown interest in Professor Higgins' lessons.

The professor's face freezes and I watch the wheels turn. He clears his throat. “The hope is to eventually rebuild.” And he quickly moves on.

Kassy elbows me and mouths “Broken City.”

Aha.

“We can bring in Lessers,” one of the students suggests, drawing me back to the lesson. “They have to do what they're told. We can make them do the work.”

“I thought we were trying to help the Lessers live a better life, not make them into slaves,” I say.

The boy rolls his eyes at me, but Berry speaks up. “We can pay the Lessers with more allowances. This would give them incentive to do the work, and no one would be making a slave out of anyone.”

I refuse to acknowledge his statement, but he's got the right idea. The conversation continues, but my mind stays on Berry. He knew where to find Mom. Did he also know she was already dead?

I tap the table in a quick rhythm. How did he get that information?

Professor Higgins drones on about the hope for a more prosperous future. He talks about the nation as a whole, not only Greater City. “There are hopes and dreams for a brand new society,” he says. “Successful cities, perhaps more than one Greater City.”

His words swirl inside my brain as their implication mixes with my knowledge of the way things have been done in the past.

These moves into prosperity will come at whose expense? The Lessers? Is this why Supreme Moon is so interested in rehabilitating them? It also begs the question—where do the Middles fit into this?

“If we had more than one Greater City, who would rule it?” one trainee asks.

“In the past, America had one great leader in the form of a president,” Professor Higgins explains. “We will still be ruled by our Great Supreme. However, there will be leaders over the individual cities. In the Early Days they were called Mayors, and they looked after the wellbeing of their cities.”

“They would be elected?”

“That's right,” Professor Higgins says. “This would create more jobs, which would mean we would need more Greaters.”

The class falls silent, and finally, one trainee has the guts to speak up, asking the question on everyone's mind. “Where will the Greaters come from?”

Professor Higgins hesitates. “You are the future of our nation, and as such, there is no reason to hold back. We will begin a process of new testing. These Tests will better identify those who have the most Greater potential. Some of you have already experienced this testing.” His eyes fall on me and a few trainees turn. Berry scowls.

So that's what the dream test was?

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with so many vengeful eyes on me. Professor Higgins continues his lesson, and the heads eventually turn away, even Berry's. I need to confront him, find out how he knew what he did about Mom, and why he let me in on the secret. For some reason, I doubt it was out of the goodness of his heart.

Training ends for the day and the trainees trickle out. Professor Higgins moves a stack of papers from his desk to his briefcase, but he drops them, scattering files everywhere. I move to help him, and we get the mess cleaned up quickly. He thanks me and I go my own way.

As I approach the vac chamber, I realize something—I'll be riding alone with Berry. He may be short, but he's big—much bigger than anyone I ever saw in Middle City. His sandy brown hair hangs around his forehead in a greasy mess. It seems to compliment his scruffy clothes.

I glance around, hoping to see a sign that can point me to the stairs, but I see nothing. There's no other way, so I step into the chamber with him.

“If it isn't the Middle.”

I scowl at him, telling myself it isn't time. It's not hard to refrain when the air starts whipping around us and we're both forced to stand stock still as we transport to the ground floor.

When we reach the bottom, I prepare myself for impact, which I've learned how to do fairly well. I don't prepare for Berry's foot, though. He sticks it out the second he regains movement, and instead of landing gracefully, I trip over his elephant foot and hit the ground with an
oomph
. He cackles and struts away while a few Greaters in the lobby giggle behind their hands.