First (11 page)

Another Lifetime

Mira

“Y
ou’re lucky, princess,” a guard
who looks like his nose has been smashed in a few times says as he grabs my arm and escorts me from my cold, dark, drafty prison cell. I’m almost actually glad to see him, even though he was one of the men who brought me here, and smile in spite of my fear as he opens the door. A shaft of light so bright my eyes ache pierces the darkness.

“Lucky? How?” I shade my eyes to protect them from the glare.

“Your First is bailing you out. If it were up to me, you’d die here.” He leers at me. His words make me wish he’d just shut the door again so I can curl back up in the corner of my cell, the one farthest away from the toilet, and wish I am anywhere else.

“He’s getting me out?”

“Are you deaf? Naw, you’re just stupid, like the rest of them. Not a brain spread out among the lot of you.”

“Hey!” I stand up.
Oh, that hurts.
My legs are dead, tingling from too much time spent in one position with nothing soft to sit on. “We’re not—”

“Look, I don’t care. Maybe you’re the smartest in your family.” He looks me up and down. “It doesn’t matter. Your First must have seen
something
in you, since he picked you and all. But to me, you’re still a traitor. Just like the rest of the scum here. You just get to walk out of here, free, while your friends rot. It ain’t fair.”

“Tanner?”

Pugnose, growing impatient, grabs my elbow. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” I dig my heels into the cement, for as much good as that does me, and his grip goes painfully tight around my elbow, pinching the nerves. “Tanner. Where is he?”

Pugnose stops. “The boy? Don’t worry.” He chuckles. “He’s alive. I can say that much for him. Don’t know what they’re going to do with him yet, but he’s sure doing better than the other one.”

I try to jerk free from him, but it’s as though my arm is tied to one of the plow horses, and I can’t hold the reins. Digging my heels again into the hard, unyielding floor, I cause enough trouble that he stops. “I want to see him,” I say when he turns around.

“Tough. That ain’t gonna happen.” He pulls me forward again, and even though I’m fighting it with all my strength, I can’t help being dragged forward.

“Why not?”

My question must surprise him because he stops again, while we’re in the hallway, in the midst of other doorways like the one that capped my cell. “Just no, all right? My orders are to take you to the transport room and get your precious little behind to the Smith. If you have any more questions, ask your damn First when you see him.”

Behind the door immediately to my left, there’s a heavy thumping, like someone’s hitting it over and over again. Why? To get someone’s attention? Pugnose sees my interest and growls. “Let’s go, now. You don’t need to be looking behind these doors.”

“Why not?” A cold thought grips me. “Is Tanner here?”

“What do you want me to say, girl? This is Fullbright, the only detention center in America where we keep the rebels. Of course that teacher from Washington and your boyfriend are here.” His words drip with disgust, but I can’t tell if it’s meant for me because, well, I’m supposedly a rebel or because I’m an idiot. I guess it doesn’t really matter. “Either way, you’re never going to see either of them again. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Tears threaten, and my mind goes blank, so I don’t resist as he leads the rest of the way to the transport room where he scans his tattoo on a small lighted bar next to the door. He forces my hand up and does the same with my tattoo.

“Wait! What are you doing?” I struggle to wrench my wrist from his grip, but he’s too strong. He forces it to the thin blue-lit bar anyway, which flashes and my wrist feels hot for a second. When it’s done, he lets me drop my hands to my sides, and I rub my wrists, casting a glance at the doorway. Could I escape through there? Where would I go? Then I look at the pods. Could I just jump in one of those? Maybe I could program it from the inside?

“Don’t even think about it.” He doesn’t even look at me as he stiffly marches over to what looks like a central control panel. He scans his wrist again, and the machine blinks. “You’ve been scanned through, and if you try to leave, the whole damn place will go into lockdown. You do not want that to happen.”

“What was that for?”

“To check you in. All your information has been stored in your bar code, and that was registered with Washington the instant you were chosen. If you even think about trying to run…” He smirks. “There’s nowhere you could go where you’d be safe. Now, get over here. I have to scan you in to enter your destination.”

“Why all the scanning?” I walk over to him. No use fighting this, I guess. At least I’m getting out of here.

“To make sure it’s you who goes in the pod. There’s another scanner in there, though you don’t have to scan your wrist, and if it’s not you, let’s just say it won’t transport you anywhere you want to go, that’s for sure.” He scans my wrist again, and the second transport from the door lights up, humming softly. “Let’s go.” He grabs my wrist again, just as feeling was returning to it, and leads me over to it. When the door slides open, he shoves me inside, jumps in behind me, and shuts the door. I barely catch my fall before the air around me starts thrumming, and once again the ground tosses up from under me, and I’m helpless to keep my feet right side down.

When the door slides open, I shakily push myself away from the back of the pod and step into a long, white room, filled with silver pods on both sides. Several silver-suited attendants with the same sort of handheld tablets Flannigan had wait by the machines. None of them look our way, at least, not officially, but I catch more than a couple of them casting quick glances under their straight-laced expressions. Bullfrog, following me, leans over to growl in my ear. “This is your last chance. You screw up, and I’d love to throw you back in that cell forever.”

Buzzcut comes up to us and nods before eyeing me shrewdly. Bullfrog stands next to him, looking bored. “The prisoner made it here safely, I take it?”

“Of course, sir.” He clicks his heels together, stands up straight, and salutes. “As requested.”

“Good.”

“What’s going on? Where are we?” I look at both men. Buzzcut just shakes his head. Bullfrog smirks.

“You don’t recognize your nation’s capital?”

I shake my head.
No, this isn’t possible. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be… where? What happens after you’re chosen
but then been captured as a rebel? Has this ever happened before?
When I don’t move, Buzzcut shoves me ahead of him, swearing under his breath. “This way.” He jerks his head toward the door at the end of the room. Pugnose waits at the pod until we reach the door, before climbing back inside and leaving.

As we reach it, a tanned young man with short dark hair, which is apparently the style reserved for us at the farm and military guys like Buzzcut and Bullfrog, steps forward. My jaw just about drops. This guy is handsome. Not that I should be noticing or anything. His face is pleasantly broad with expressive deep brown, almost black eyes and a wide, smiling mouth. He opens the door and bows. He’s older than I am, but not by much. His gaze flits up to my face, and I freeze. Captured by his eyes, I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but stand there like an idiot until he looks away. Except that he doesn’t. His eyes probe mine, and in those chocolaty depths, I see surprise, a jolt, as if he feels something, too, but he quickly covers it with a smooth transition to boredom as he finally looks at my captors. He nods at them, and they nod back. What are they doing, trading me from one jail to another?

“Welcome to the Smithsonian Institution. My name is William, but you may call me Will.” His voice is low, deep, and once again, I feel trapped in its depths. I shake my head quickly.
Stop it, Mira. You’re not some innocent schoolgirl. This is ridiculous.
He holds the door open, and the guards lead me inside. “This entrance is mostly reserved for delivery and basic service, but they wanted to keep your arrival as quiet as possible, so they brought you in early.”

For the first time, I notice how rumpled his blue uniform is, as if he just got out of bed. Was he not expecting me? “Did we wake you up? I’m sorry.”

He stops abruptly and turns around to face me, quirking a dark eyebrow as if I’ve surprised him. “You have nothing to apologize for, ma’am. My job is to help Seconds.” His voice is rich, like honey out of the beehives at the far edge of the fields. I shake my head again as he starts walking. Bullfrog pushes me, none too gently, after him.

“This way, please.” He leads the way down a narrow corridor with lights that flash on as we near them. Ornate burgundy carpeting, worn and faded, muffles our footsteps. I can see pictures on the walls—not screens like in the manor house, they’re actual pictures—but I can’t make out any details because we’re walking quickly, and the light is pretty dim.

The guards seem more relaxed, like they know they don’t have anything to worry about here. Like we’re safe. People dart in and out of narrow white doors. None of them stop or stare, and all of them wear dark blue servant tunics and pants like Will’s.

“This is the Castle,” Will says as we leave the hall and approach an octagonal desk at the center of a large, open room
.
“I need to check you in, and then we can go to your room.”

We? As in both of us? Is he staying with me? I… I can’t. It’s not right.
I open my mouth to speak, but Will is already walking away.

A pudgy, washed out-looking man perches on a small stool in the middle of the eight-sided desk. His thin arms and legs jut out from his body like tiny sticks out of one of the mud pies Rosie and I used to make when we were younger. And, well, when she was still alive.

“Good evening, Alfred.” Will smiles. “How’d you end up working the late shift?”

“Drew the short end of the stick, I’m afraid.” Alfred shakes his head. “That, and the boss thinks I have a personality problem. Can you believe it?” He huffs out a breath, puffing his cheeks. “He said I have no people skills, so I’m stuck here until I learn some because he said he can’t have me pissing off the Firsts. Bunch of pansies, the lot of them.”

Will leans over the desk, letting Alfred get a good look at me. “Well, at least it’s quieter,” he says.

Alfred pales and takes a deep breath. “Don’t mind me, Ma’am, I’m just a complainer. I didn’t mean nothing by it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, and both men look surprised.

Alfred studies me, as if taking in every detail so he can describe me later to his friends. Then he shakes himself, some semblance of business coming back to his mannerisms. “I’m sorry, sirs. My clock’s still all messed up. You want her room number?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

“Three-twelve is open.”

Will nods, thanks him, and we walk away from the desk, turning right, down another long corridor before stopping in front of a pair of metal doors. “We’ll take the elevator to the museum.”

“Okay.” I must look a bit queasy because he smiles reassuringly at me.

“It’s okay. They’re perfectly safe. Much safer than a pod, in fact.”

“Much safer? But they can… they can fall, or what if they get stuck or…”

He chuckles. “You’ve never ridden in one before, have you?”

I shake my head. “We don’t have them at the farm, just stairs. All I know is what I’ve heard from the Chesanings from when they’ve come here.”

“Well, let me assure you, they’re quite safe.”

“But they’re… they’re… a thousand years old?”

“Not quite,” he smiles again, a brief flash of white teeth. “After the war, they were refurbished to run both vertically and horizontally, enabling us to reach any destination at the Smith complex in one trip. They’re routinely updated and inspected, so honestly, you have nothing to worry about. Besides, if you’ve ridden in a pod, you have nothing to fear.”

He quickly scans his wrist tattoo, and the door clicks, sliding open. Would that work for me? If I were to scan my code, would it get me out of here?

We walk through the doors, and the guards follow like faithful dogs. After the doors close behind us, Will uses a silver recessed numberless keypad and types in the number to my room.

“The Castle might be the central hub of the Smith, but it’s not where you’re going. You’ll be staying in the American History Museum,” Will says, trying to take my mind off the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as the elevator moves down.

“I’m staying in a museum?” I squeak, tightening my hands in the pockets of my pants.

Will glances over to me, as if to check to see if I’m okay. He studies me for a moment before speaking. “Well, yes. All government business has been conducted in these buildings since the Immigration War.”

“I knew that.” Darnit. I
did
know that.
Good job, Mira, way to look even more stupid.

The elevator speeds downward, then stops and moves at a 90-degree angle. When the door slides open, Will leads us down another hallway, this one lit by bright lights even more glaring than the noon day sun when I’m out in the field helping Tanner work the plow horses. The carpet is thick and dark blue under my feet, so plush that we make no sounds as we pass room after room. The plain wooden doors are decorated with numbers starting at 302.

Will stops in front of the door with 312 engraved on a bronze plaque next to it. He opens the door and gestures for me to precede him inside. Before I take a single step, Buzzcut grabs my arm while Bullfrog slides into the room ahead of us.

“Wait, we gotta check it out, first.”

“For what?” I back away from him, and he doesn’t try to stop me.

“More of those rebel scum.” He sneers.

“You think they’d try to attack us, even here?”

“They’re everywhere, girl.” He looks down the hall, then back into the room. I turn to Will, but he’s looking straight ahead, as if he doesn’t hear our conversation or is trying really hard to make it look that way.

After a moment, Bullfrog comes back and says, “All clear, boss.”

“Excellent.” Buzzcut glances at me. “After that mess at Chesaning, we must remember not to underestimate our enemy.”

Does he mean me?
I shiver. Both of the guards step back, and Will gestures for me to go into the room. Once I get past the doorway, however, I stop and look around.

The room is much nicer than anything I’ve seen in the manor house and about a gillion times better than the four white walls I had at home. It’s got velvety blue curtains and thick cream colored carpet. The bathroom is on the left, and past that is the huge bed, which must be more than twice the size of mine at home. There are more fluffy pillows on that bed than I’ve ever seen in my life. A small metal nightstand and dresser rest on either side of the bed. Against the wall, a huge video screen is mounted next to a small dark wooden desk with a chair tucked inside.

I gawk at the screen, then turn back to Will. “Are you sure this is the right room?”

Will arches his eyebrow at me. “Of course. Why would you ask? Is this room not suitable?”

I feel my face flush.
Think, Mira. This is normal for him
. I grab onto the first thought that comes to my mind. “Well, umm, we don’t use screens at the farm. They’re illegal.”

“Oh, right.” He looks relieved. “It’s okay, here, to watch videos and use computers. You’re Absolved. It’s not illegal anymore.”

“Are you sure? My brother got in trouble for it back at the farm.”