Rebirth (38 page)

So when the faint pink appeared in the sky outside their narrow window, Sammi pushed back her blankets and put her feet on the cold floor. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dawn and squatted over the big plastic bowl.

“It gets easier.”

Roan’s voice startled her and Sammi saw that she was sitting up in bed, hugging herself. “What does?”

“Peeing like that. I refused to do it the first month I was here. I thought I could out-stubborn them, you know? But the thing is, when you’re pregnant it’s a lot harder to hold it. Now? I pee like three times a night.”

Sammi stared at her silhouette in the darkened room. “How pregnant are you?”

Roan laughed, somehow managing to make it sound sad. “You don’t ask someone how pregnant they are. You say, how far
along
are you?”

“Oh.”

“They say I’m six weeks. I guess they’d know.”

Sammi wasn’t sure how to say what came next. “Uh…how did you, I mean, you weren’t pregnant when you got here…were you?”

Roan frowned. “Didn’t Mrs. Henderson tell you?”

“Tell me what? I mean, she hardly said anything to me. I got here in the middle of the night and I think she just wanted to go to bed. She acted all pissed off that she had to take care of me.”

“God, what a
bitch,
” Roan sighed. “Okay, so you might as well hear it from me, right? You’re here to breed. They’re going to impregnate you with outlier sperm so you can have an immune baby. Then when the baby comes they take it. They give it to one of the higher-up families to raise, and when they get the new outlier neighborhood finished, all the kids are going to grow up over there.” Roan’s voice was dull, as though the desperation of her situation had sucked the life from her.

Sammi’s throat felt dry as Roan’s words rang in her mind.

Breed. Impregnate. Immune baby…they take it.

“Wait, you don’t get to, you know, take care of it? Yourself?”

Roan laughed, a short, bitter sound that disappeared into silence. “We’re just the baby factory,” she said softly. “At least we don’t have to work. I mean, they feed us pretty well, it’s safe here…and they do it in vitro, you know? I mean, it’s not like you have to, umm…”

When her voice trailed off, Sammi felt like she should say something, like she should offer something in exchange for Roan’s attempt to reassure her. “I’m…sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Roan said, hugging herself and looking away, and Sammi saw the way she wrapped her arms around her stomach, and somehow that was the saddest part.

“Look—Roan, I’m leaving here, right now, before things get— I mean, I don’t know anyone here, I don’t have any attachments, I think I might as well try.” Sammi could feel her face flush, the embarrassment of talking to someone who was practically a stranger, even if she felt like someone Sammi could be friends with. “But if you wanted, you could come too, you know?”

Roan made a sound in her throat, a skeptical dry sound. “Thanks. But I’m kind of stuck here. I mean, they’ve been giving me actual prenatal vitamins. They got maternity clothes and baby clothes. Where else am I going to get those? And besides, if anything goes wrong with…you know, the birth or whatever, there’s doctors here to take care of the baby.”

Sammi stared at her roommate, taking advantage of the darkness to shield her curiosity, realizing that Roan couldn’t help loving the child growing inside her.

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to think of her own mother, of Jed’s mother, the way they died with their children’s names on their lips.

“Look, if you’re really going to go, at least let me help. You won’t get farther than the elevator by yourself. All the guards are armed.”

Sammi’s determination faltered. “I saw the one on this floor and the one in the lobby. The one downstairs looked like we woke her up when they brought me in. I’m fast,” she added—she held a pair of records, the 200 and the 400, and track wasn’t even her main sport, she’d only done it as a favor to the coach, who also happened to be her government teacher, and who always said she’d never seen a girl with as much grit per square inch as Sammi. That was the kind of thing that made all the girls roll their eyes, but did she ever wish Coach Hansen was here now.

“Fast is good,” Roan said, and Sammi could see the flash of her white teeth, even in the dark. “But it won’t help much if they shoot you. What you need is for them to be paying attention to something else. There’s one sure way to get them off their feet. Let me help, and I can make it so no one notices you, and give you a chance to get out of the building.”

Sammi hesitated. “But would it get you in trouble?”

Roan waved away her concern. “No, not what I’m thinking of. In fact everyone will probably be glad for a little excitement. It’s so fucking boring around here, nothing ever happens. But listen, where are you going to go when you get out?”

“Anywhere,” Sammi said with conviction, “as long as I don’t spend one more day here. With
them
.” She felt her body shiver as she spat the word, and realized that she was made of hate now, that some of the goodness inside her had been replaced when they took everyone she loved from her, one by one. But that was okay, because the hate canceled out her old softness, too.

“You’re kidding, Sammi. You’ll never last out there past the wall.”

“I used to go out by myself all the time,” Sammi said, remembering those thrilling nights when the raiders at the school let her tag along, the silver of the moon, the smell of night mixing with the sounds of their boots on glass on the streets, the calls of the birds that were starting to return.

“You’re braver than me,” Roan muttered, shaking her head.

“Besides, I won’t be going far. All’s I need is to get to that neighborhood by the water tower.” She could see it clearly from their window: on the other side of the wall, where they were still building it and the gaps were barred by nothing more than plywood barriers, past a couple of strip malls and flat-roofed commercial buildings, was a neighborhood of little run-down ranches, the kind that students probably used to live in, with couches on the porch and bikes chained to the railing. She’d find the right one, the one she could be safe in, until she figured out what to do next. And if not—well, better to die out there, than live in here.

“A couple of people have tried, before,” Roan said quietly. “At least, that’s the rumor.”

“Yeah…? And?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? I mean, it’s not like they come up here and give us reports. A lot of people think the guards found them and killed them, but maybe…”

Maybe
. That was enough to hang her hopes on, such as they were—the thinnest strands, next to nothing, all she had left. Yeah. Sammi would take
maybe
.

“Okay. Tell me what to do.”

Five minutes later Roan led her down the hallway, toward the guard desk at the edge of what they called the recreation room even though all they had for recreation were a few ragged copies of
What To Expect When You’re Expecting
and Chinese checkers and
People
magazines read so many times that they were held together with tape. Roan’s heart pounded as she forced herself not to turn around to check on Sammi, to make sure she was keeping to the shadowed spaces in front of each door, staying a few paces back. There were only a few lightbulbs for the whole hall and Roan was counting on the darkness to help keep Sammi hidden.

Mrs. Wight had been sleeping, she could tell, because there was a crease on her face where she must have been resting her head on her arm. When she saw Roan she pushed a hand through her graying hair and frowned.

“What is it, Roan?”

Roan clutched the fabric of her nightgown and did her best to look terrified, staggering the last few steps toward the desk, biting the inside of her cheek. “It’s—I think I’m spotting, Mrs. Wight. I had the worst cramps, they woke me up.”

Mrs. Wight blanched and staggered up from her chair. “You’re sure? Did they just start?”

“It hurts, Mrs. Wight, I’m bleeding bad, I think I might pass out—”

Through slitted eyes she watched Mrs. Wight dig for her radio, backing away all the while. Just like she thought. They put Wight on overnights for a reason; she was as useless as she was lazy. Roan clutched the arm of a sofa and did what she thought was a pretty good job of swaying on her feet as though she was about to faint, while Wight barked orders into the radio. Good. She’d have the doctors out of bed, and Mrs. Poehlmann, who was in charge of the whole place, and by the time they got around to figuring out that Sammi was missing, she’d be long gone.

Sure, Roan would be in trouble, even though she’d dumped the plastic potty on her mattress and planned to pretend that she’d only peed the bed when cramps woke her. They might buy that—and she’d say she had no idea that Sammi meant to bolt, even though she was already slipping into the stairwell, one pale hand raised in a goodbye wave, and then she was gone, Wight never having noticed her at all.

Roan figured she’d probably have to go over to Tapp and spend the day being examined, but at least they were all so concerned about her baby that they’d treat her okay. By night she’d be back here, and some poor citizen would have changed her linens and cleaned up her room, and she could go back to waiting, waiting, waiting for the day she both longed for and dreaded, when her baby would be born into this stupid place.

All that waiting. Well, at least she’d caused a little excitement for once.

Roan slid down onto the couch and let her eyes flutter shut while Wight yelled.

35

CASS HAD FINALLY GOTTEN RUTHIE AND SMOKE into the cab, and had been about to head into the building when lights went on in the second floor and, seconds later, the third. She heard shouting through the open lobby door.

She took a sharp breath and turned the key with shaking fingers, and was reaching to put the truck in gear, to make their escape, when she thought of Dor again inside.

She couldn’t do it. She was armed, and she was able, and as long as that was the case she had to try. She pulled the truck around the corner, where it was hidden from the front of the building by the oleander hedge.

If she failed now, someone would find Smoke and Ruthie here. They would kill Smoke, but Ruthie was an outlier, and a child, and they would take care of her.

“I love you,” she mouthed as she slipped out of the car, and she had almost reached the entrance when a car came around the corner so fast that the tires shrieked, and stopped a few feet from the front door. Two men jumped out, leaving their doors open, and ran inside. Now that Cass had a view into the enormous high-ceilinged lobby that formed the entire ground floor of the dorm, bare except for a few clusters of furniture on a patterned rug in the center, she saw that a dozen girls and young women were gathered at the other end, hugging each other and screaming.

Between them and her, Dor was standing with his hands over his head, a short middle-aged female guard backing him toward the wall with a rifle that looked outlandishly large in her hands. Nearby a girl with long honey-colored hair was kneeling on the floor, a second female guard holding a gun to her head and yelling something at the two men from the car.

Cass didn’t think. She raised the gun Dor had given her and remembered sunlit afternoons when her father took her out in the field by the pond, setting up cans along the falling-down fence, the way he wrapped his arms around her when he taught her how to sight down the barrel.

Two dozen steps to the open doors and the woman never stopped yelling and Dor never turned around and the girl on the floor was the only one who saw her. As the guard behind her turned toward the two men crossing the lobby, the girl rolled out of the way and Cass took her shot.

The first man went down like a rock. As the other spun around and dropped, Cass fired again and again but he didn’t stop, he turned in a circle and came up shooting back at her. Cass felt the pavement at her feet break and splinter and she dived through the doors into the building, sprinting to the shelter of a sofa, her heart racing, ears filled with screaming. There was another shot, and another, and more screaming, and someone ran past her, out into the night. She peeked around the sofa and saw the shooter crouched low, crawling toward her, and even as their eyes met he took another shot but it went wide.

“Outlier! I’m an outlier!” she screamed. “I’m putting down my gun and we can figure this out! Don’t shoot anymore. I’m an outlier!” She had to get to Dor, had to trade herself for him and Sammi. She could make this right. The Rebuilders would understand the trade they proposed—they would know that Mary would value her life far above the others’. Dor was strong and he was good. He was Sammi’s father and he was a good father, and he would make sure that Ruthie was safe. He would take Smoke and if there was a chance for him, Dor would find that chance. Everyone she loved could live, maybe even thrive, and all Cass had to do was stay here.

“Shoot me and Mary will know you killed an outlier,” she yelled. The girls clustered at the back of the room stared at her, holding each other and crying. She scanned their faces, frantically searching for Sammi. “Every girl here will tell them. They’re all witnesses. But if you let this man and his daughter go I’ll put down my gun. I’ll come without a fight.”

There was silence, and Cass took a deep breath. That was it, all she had to offer.

She came out from behind the sofa, standing up. The man in front of her didn’t lower his gun, but he didn’t shoot, either. Behind him, the gray-haired woman stared at her with fury. At her feet, the other woman guard twitched and moaned.

A low, guttural cough echoed through the still room. Cass looked around wildly for its source.

Then her gaze fell on Dor.

He knelt on the floor, clutching his head. Blood ran through his fingers.

Cass had been willing to strike a bargain with the Rebuilders—her life for Sammi’s and Dor’s freedom. But they hadn’t listened to her. They’d shot him. Once again they had taken what was not theirs, and this time Cass would not stand for it.