Donor 23 (11 page)

At five years old, she had discovered an old tire in an alley. It may have been discarded trash to most, but to her it was a treasure, and she wanted to bring it home. She struggled with it, dragging it behind her. A voice out of nowhere rang out, “Why don’t you roll it?”

She had looked around in puzzlement and saw Kaleb’s cheerful face sticking out the window of a nearby building. Even at her young age, she had recognized there was nothing sarcastic or mocking in his manner—he was just smart.

Punching his shoulder, she cried, “I still can’t believe how dumb I was—dragging the tire instead of rolling it! Hey, I was only five.”

With a smirk, “Yeah, you’re much smarter now.” He leaned closer. “Thanks for the information, Joan.”

Joan pondered his face. The glasses perched on his nose reflected a glare of light, hiding his soothing, dark eyes from
view.
I wish I had done more
, she thought.
All these years, while he was helping the underground, she was helping only herself
. She shook her head.
What did it matter now, anyway
?
Who knew how long she had left.

Turning to leave, “I better get going and head to the Center. Like you said, I’m going to be late.”

The weeks passed slowly for Joan. She missed seeing Duncan around the Center. The two used to talk every week or two, and the time she spent with him was special. She had not realized how much their little talks meant to her. Duncan asked her to think of him and she did: the warmth of his breath and the feel of his hands caressing her face. She recalled something her mother once told her. In order to meet again, there must be a good-bye. And her mother assured her that good friends would always meet again.

While glad she told him her name at their last meeting in the stairwell, she wished she let him kiss her. Fear kept her from the kiss. They were not equals, after all. She was a donor; he was a citizen. But she felt akin to him. Though the System kept them apart and segregated, she understood him.
Was it love
? she wondered—she wished. In her dreams they kiss. Each night she would go out on the balcony to find the moon and imagined Duncan looking at it too, wherever he was. She hoped he was safe. She hoped he thought of her.

She spent more time with her father. He seemed nostalgic, mumbling about times past. One night, staring at the photo of Gates hanging in their home, he suddenly pulled it off the wall and smashed it.

Joan tried to pick up the mess, but he pulled her to him and said, “No.” Motioning to the photo, “He’s nothing. Promise me you’ll live, Joan.”

“Dad,” she complained, “what are you talking about?”

“Promise me, Joan. I couldn’t save your mother. But you…I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.” He spoke as if he knew about the possible tax, but he couldn’t, she thought.

“You’re talking nonsense. Nothing’s going to happen. Dad—”

“But if anything does happen. If…Promise me—and your mother. Joan, you’re strong. Promise
us
.”

“Dad, come on, sit down.”

He walked over to a photo of Annika. “I couldn’t save her,” he mumbled quietly. Turning to Joan, “Promise
us
.”

“OK, Dad, I promise.”

“Really? You’re strong, you know. There’s civilization out there—the Outside, Jack says. You of all people can make it out of the ghetto. If anything ever happens… Promise. I mean, really, really, promise me…promise us.”

She gazed at his face. His eyes seemed older, the wrinkles more evident but there was a meaning in them that stirred her in her heart.

“I promise.”

At the Center Jack had her concentrate on events such as rock climbing, kickboxing, target shooting, long jumping, and long-distance running. Sometimes she wanted to chuck it all, go home, and spend her time relaxing, watching life go by in the ghetto.
What’s the worst they could do to her?
she thought wryly.

But she didn’t. She kept working and practicing. She didn’t talk about it with Jack, but she had a hard time reconciling why they would tax her heart if Tegan’s heart was fine. Disillusionment overwhelmed her. She had worked hard for seventeen years, followed the law, the System…and what had it brought her? She worried about her father. He would be alone. And what about Dolly? Who would bring her food?

Sitting on the edge of her bed in her stocking feet one morning, Joan rubbed her eyes. She trudged lazily to her bedroom window, pulled back the shades, and viewed the morning sun, dazzling across the ghetto. The ghetto appeared almost beautiful. Almost. She paused for a moment, enjoying the sunrise’s beauty and ignoring the smokestacks and run-down apartment
buildings that marred nature’s splendor. She took a deep breath, while she held up her hand to block the brightness.

It had been exactly six weeks since the cardiac tests. The days were getting longer. Joan used to enjoy the change from winter to spring. She always relished seeing the snow melt away and the flowers bloom. But now each day was agony for her, waiting and wondering when the Gates family would make their decision—and what that decision would be. She felt as if she were climbing a tall rock wall, with the rope fraying and about to break any second—to send her plummeting to the ground.

Staring at the rising sun, she realized she had been holding her breath. She let out one long breath and turned away. She opened the closet door and surveyed her shoes. Compliments of her benefactor, Joan’s closet held ten pairs of top-of-the-line athletic shoes. Joan grabbed a pair of cross-trainers and slipped them on. She sat on her bed, tying the shoes, when her father called to her from the kitchen.

“Honey, you’re getting a message,” he hollered, as her wrist phone, sitting on the kitchen counter, vibrated.

Joan wandered to the kitchen, not rushing.

“Did you want any more coffee, Dad?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Aren’t you going to check your message?”

“Who’s it from?”

Staffan glanced at the phone and squinted, “Can’t tell.”

Leisurely, Joan picked up the phone. The identity of the sender had been blocked. The two sentence script read: “TEO on their way. Get out now.”

Joan read it twice. The Governor and Tegan made their decision. They were going to tax her heart. The snatchers were coming for a preemptive arrest. Seeing the look on her face, her father grabbed the phone and read the message.

“Dad, I have something to tell you—”

“I know. I’ve known from the beginning. Jack told me.”

Her father reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a backpack.

“Here, I’ve packed this for you. It has food, rope, a flashlight, and other stuff. You have to evade.”

“Dad, I can’t live forever in hiding here in—”

“Not here. You have to leave the Alliance. I put a map in here of the sewer system. Get into the main tunnel, and go to tunnel three. They’re in numerical order. Tunnel three is small, but it leads to the outside and the lock on the grate is broken. They haven’t rushed to fix it yet because it’s over a cliff. It’s not a steep cliff—you can handle it. Use the rope if you have to. The map is marked. Go!”

“But Dad, it’s wild out there—the Outside.”

Downstairs, Nox and three officers climbed out of a van in front of Joan’s apartment building.

“I know this donor. This should be an easy one,” Nox told his officers casually.

Walking beside Nox, also in the distinctive black uniform, was Duncan Starr. Nox was pleasantly surprised when Duncan chose to serve his draft in the TEO, and in Nox’s own unit. Obviously he wanted to stay in the city, near home and near his girlfriend. Nox didn’t blame him; he wouldn’t want to leave Tegan Gates, either. Nox hoped that having the son of an important man in his unit might help his chances for advancement.

Over the last few weeks, Duncan impressed him with his intelligence and his physical abilities. Usually, Nox got stuck with spoiled kids from rich families, unwilling or unable to perform—the type that wanted to do everything the easy way, the type that actually looked forward to using the machine. The spoiled rookies expected they could have their way with female
donors. Nox forbade it. Adherence to the law was of utmost importance, and he tried to make them understand.

Nagging at Nox was the perception that these kids didn’t give him his due respect. The haunting prospect existed that somehow they knew Nox’s father had been a donor.
He shouldn’t be embarrassed by it,
he told himself. His father followed all the rules and the law. He had obeyed the System and bought himself a citizenship. When Nox was a child in school, the other kids bullied and teased him because his father was a donor.
A
former
donor,
he reminded himself. He still constantly reminded himself how he had risen above it. But somewhere in his inner recesses, Nox felt shame.

Joan’s father told her, “There
are
people out there.”

“Violent, uncivilized people—”

“No. Jack says to head west, all the way to the western ocean. Find someone named Lucas. General Lucas. At the edge of the Alliance border, you should come to a deep gorge. On the other side is where the wilderness begins—the Outside. Just remember the song. Use the song as your guide. Come on, I’ll go with you to the sewer grate.”

Just then her phone vibrated again. She read the message: “TEO are there.” Joan opened the front door and looked out. Nox turned the corner in her hallway. They saw each other. Nox raced forward, and Joan slammed the door shut.

She panicked, but her father remained calm, “Go off the balcony. Use the rope.”

His composure was infectious, and he pacified and calmed her—imparting to her an aura of intensity. They rushed to the balcony, and Joan peered over the railing to examine the wall. They were seven floors up.

“No, I don’t need the rope. I can find footholds and handholds on the block wall.”

She slipped on the backpack and looked at her father. They hugged and kissed.

“Dad, I have to tell you something—”

The front door kicked in.

“No time.” He pushed her over the railing, and she rapidly began her descent along the side of the building.

The officers raced to the balcony. Staffan fought with them. He did what he could to slow them down, but they outnumbered him and hit him aside. Nox had his gun out, as did another officer.

The officer pointed his gun at Joan, but Nox grabbed his arm, “Don’t shoot. You can’t tranquilize her there on the side of the building. She’d fall. She has to be taken alive.”

Joan continued climbing. Halfway down the wall, a roof connected from an adjoining building. If she could get to that, she could run across it to another building. Then she could jump across and maybe get away. She heard the sound of drones overhead.

Nox recognized her plan. “Quick, call other units to surround the block.”

An officer replied, “No others in the area.”

Nox had expected this to be an easy catch. He saw the drones, too. It would look bad for him to let the Governor’s donor get away live on the tele-screen.

He turned to Duncan, “Here, hold my gun, Starr.”

Duncan took Nox’s gun, and Nox grabbed Joan’s father.

“Help me get him over the railing,” Nox ordered the other officers. They threw him over the wrought iron railing of the balcony, so that he stood on the other side, facing the building and holding on to the railing for his life.

Nox shouted to Joan, “23, come back, or we’ll push him off.”

Joan looked up.

“No!” she shouted desperately.

“Up. Now!” Nox shouted, one of the few times he raised his voice on the job.

“No, Joan!” her father yelled. “Keep going!”

She looked down. The adjoining roof was so close. She looked back at her father.

“DON’T STOP!” Staffan screamed.

As her father yelled at her to continue, Nox screeched, “Come on. Come back up.”

The drones buzzed overhead. She had trouble thinking. She couldn’t do this. Her mother died because of her; she couldn’t let it happen to her father, too.

“Don’t hurt him. I’m coming,” she hollered, as she began climbing up the wall.

Just then, Staffan Lion roared, “NO, Joan!”