Vanquished (14 page)

She's crying harder and shaking her head. “Where?” she says. “Where would I go? They won't give me food allowance or electricity allowance. They won't give me anything if I don't cooperate. I have to take care of my baby.”

My dad finally snaps out of his shock. “You're right, Jamie. You need to cooperate with them. And listen to them. You don't want to become a Lesser. Your baby won't last in that kind of atmosphere.”

I whip around to Dad in shock. My head spins and I stare at him open mouthed. “Are you saying she should murder her baby?”

He frowns and shakes his head. “Stop being so dramatic, Hana. There will be time later for babies.”

I feel like my body is as red as a lobster. Anger boils up and out of my mouth like lava from a volcano. “How dare you! You're as corrupt and horrible as they are!” I take Jamie by the shoulders. “If you won't run then you have to stand your ground. Do you hear me, Jamie?”

She nods, still crying, but her face doesn't look all that determined to put up a fight.

“They'll bring Easton in, too. You have to stick up for yourself, even if Easton changes his mind. Can you do this even if he can't?” It's something to consider. Easton might put on a brave front for her, but when he's truthfully faced with becoming a Lesser, what will he do then?

“He won't change his mind,” she says. Her eyes look surer of this statement.

“But if he does, Jamie…” My emotions race out of control, and I stop to rein them in. “Jamie, he might. If he does, you have to stand firm.”

Finally, she nods. “I know. I will.”

We stare into each other's eyes for what seems like forever. “You're my best friend,” she says.

“And you're mine!” I say. I wrap her in the tightest hug I've ever given.

“What if I never see you again?” she asks.

I swallow hard. “I'll do what I can,” I say. I'm more determined than ever to pass my Test in two weeks. “I will see you again, Jamie. I will.”

We hear them outside then, only they're not outside my house but Jamie's. We all look at the front door, knowing it's only going to take a few minutes for them to look here.

My dad steps forward and wraps Jamie in a hug. “Stay away from alcohol and the pills,” he says. “That's how they get you.”

I whip my head toward him and stare in shock. He knows about the pills? What else does he know about? God?

I can tell by Jamie's expression that she doesn't register what he said, but I am shocked by it. My dad must know more than he lets on, or maybe it's more than he wants to believe. I've heard of people living in denial. Maybe that's what he's doing.

The guards bang on our door, and Jamie stiffens in my arms as Dad answers it.

“We're looking for Jamie Stanlin,” a guard says. “Is she here?”

My dad pauses only a moment before stepping away from the door to let the guards enter.

“Jamie Stanlin?”

Jamie sniffles and nods.

The guard takes her arm gently. “If you'll come with us, Miss Stanlin, we have some things to discuss.”

I watch my best friend walk from my front door for the last time. “Jamie!” I cry, throwing myself at her. We hug one last time, and then I let her go.

The guards load her into their car, and Jamie disappears from my street forever.

 

 

 

 

25

 

My mind spins all night long. They've taken Jamie away. What's to keep them from taking me? My mom? Markus? Any of us? I lay in bed wide awake, and when the sun peeks through my window I know it's OK to get ready for school.

I want to make sure I'm there on time. In fact, I want to make sure I do everything exactly right. If I don't, they might take me.

I feel dead as I walk to school. I don't notice anyone else on their way to school or work, even though I'm sure the others are there. I'm just blind and deaf and dumb.

School looks the same as always. I'm not sure if I expected everyone to be mourning Jamie's demotion or not. Most of them probably haven't even heard yet. That won't last, though.

I can't help it; I scan the hallways for Easton. Did they take him, too? Did they drag him from his parents, from his home? I don't see him, and so I assume he kept his promise to Jamie. That's something, at least.

The students buzz because it's the last week of school. There is so much to do, and everyone rushes through the halls. Someone bumps me.

“Oh, excuse me,” he says.

I don't reply and he frowns, but then he hurries away.

It isn't long into the morning when I hear the first whispers. Graham Miller leans across the aisle in math class and whispers to Lilith, “Did you hear about Jamie Stanlin? She got pregnant.”

They both turn and look at me, and even Lilith has the good sense to quickly turn back to the front.

My stomach burns. What's happening to Jamie right now? Is she already in a Lesser city, or are they still trying to make her change her mind? What if they didn't even give her a choice? That thought makes my stomach turn, because I realize it's a possibility.

By the end of the school day, people are avoiding me. They don't want to bump into me, or risk having to speak to me. I'm awkward now. I'm dangerous. I'm associated with Jamie—someone who's been demoted. Even Mrs. Sewell doesn't say much, other than, “Do you have your speech ready for Saturday?”

Lilith watches me all day. Not with a scowl or hatred. Just with interest. It's disconcerting.

Finally, school is out. All at once, my spirits lift. I'm going to the market, and I'm going to meet someone who can shed light on the strange things happening in our city. I've been so lifeless all day, so afraid of getting in trouble. I'm ready to be alive again. I make myself walk to the market place at a normal pace. It would look suspicious if I were spotted running through the streets.

The market place isn't as crowded today. That's bad for me, I realize. If the place is crawling with people, it's less likely anyone will notice me talking to one particular person. But if it's empty, there's no way to be inconspicuous.

The man with honey-colored hair isn't at the market yet. I pretend to look at fruit and vegetables while I wait. I scan the crowd for Easton's table, but he isn't here, either. Proof that they took him, too.

“Aren't you keeping your garden anymore?” a vendor asks.

I smile tightly at the short man. Of course, he would recognize my behavior as odd. I've been coming to the market place for years, and never have I bought produce. “I just wanted to see how the crops turned out compared to ours. Our last batch of tomatoes didn't turn out too well.” At least I'm not lying. His tomatoes are plump and red, while ours were small and hard.

The man's bushy eyebrows fly up. “Tomatoes? Why, that's the easiest crop there is. Are they getting enough sun?”

“They're in the full sun,” I say. “We just haven't been home very much lately to tend them.” I hope he doesn't ask why, because I don't want to explain about Mom.

He doesn't, he just smiles and nods knowingly.

I turn to move along, and that's when I spot him. The man with honey-colored hair is browsing the fruit stand a few feet from me. I wonder how I should approach him, but he doesn't even acknowledge me.

“Excuse me,” he says, bumping around me. He continues browsing, buying a huge armful of produce.

What's his plan?

I meander through the stands, until I'm standing on the outskirts. Waiting. Sweat beads on my back. I don't know if it's from the hot sun or my nerves.

The man buys his fruit and looks like he's leaving.

Maybe this isn't the man Fischer sent. Maybe I was wrong and I should be looking for someone else altogether. I scan the small crowd, but there's no one else who meets the criteria.

One thing's for sure—I have to keep moving. Standing in the middle of the market will look suspicious all by itself.

Umph!

“Oh, excuse me, miss,” someone grunts. It's Mr. Elders, the honey-haired man.

A bag of fruit lays spilled over the pavement.

“Will you help me pick these up?” he asks.

I bend without thinking and start scooping fruit into my arms.

“More slowly, please,” he says softly. He goes on whispering, as if we were already in conversation. “The chemo is only for the Greaters. Your mom never had a shot at getting it, and her doctor was taking a big risk even applying. It's expensive, and they're not going to spend that money on anyone other than the most important.”

My stomach flips. What is he saying? Has her chemo been denied? “But we're not Lessers. I don't understand,” I stutter.

A smile plays on his thin lips. “We're all Lessers, unless we're Greaters. And even some of them are Lessers.”

I think back over the last two weeks. All of the strange things that have happened seem to confirm his statement. No one is all that important. Not Ava's family, or mine, or Jamie's. “Why?”

“They save things like chemo for the Greaters. They don't want to die of the mutation or anything else if they can help it, but chemo and other medications are expensive. They save them for the ones who are important, and who are rich enough to pay for them. The Greaters are the ones who possess the greatest ability to make decisions, to lie, and to lead, or so they think. The Greaters need each other. If the people of our country trust in anyone else, then the Greaters' power will be no more. That's why we can't even have a god.”

He's speaking so fast, while his arms move so slowly at gathering his purchases. His words jumble together and I have to concentrate to figure out exactly what he's saying.

“A god?” I ask. That's what Fischer said on the hospital roof. He talked about God, too. I'm not sure I see the connection. What does denying God have to do with the Greaters?

“I don't understand,” I finally say. I'm working to keep my face neutral, because inside my body is shriveling like a raisin. My mom's chemotherapy drugs were denied, and no one told me. Fischer didn't tell me.

I pick up the final piece of fruit and place it in his bundle. We both rise. Only a minute has passed, but it already feels like we've attracted too much attention.

“Thank you, miss,” he says loudly. “I would appreciate that help getting these home.”

I take the hint and relieve him from some of his burden. “It's no problem,” I say, smiling. We leave together, and I can't help glancing behind me to make sure no one is watching.

I see a flash of a shadow as someone turns a corner. Is it a guard following me?

We walk a few moments in silence, when finally he speaks. “Do you know about God?”

I rack my brain, trying to remember the bits and pieces of things I've heard in the past. “The people in the Early Days believed in some kind of God, right? He made the world or something, and He takes care of people when they die.” That last part is just something I came up with on my own, based on the argument my parents had all those years ago.

He nods. “He
did
make the world, and He made us—you and me. The Greaters took him away long ago, for a reason. If people trust in a God, they won't trust in the Greaters. The people must rely on them to supply their needs. If they're trusting God to take care of them in life and death, what do they need the Greaters for?”

His words sink in, and I wonder if they're true. If God is in control, then maybe He
is
the one who controls where we go when we die.

We round a corner, and immediately I see him. A guard, coming down the sidewalk toward us.

My heart stutters in my chest cavity. What if he heard the honey-haired man? What if he's coming for us?

“Thank you, miss. This is my house. I really appreciate your help.” He takes the fruit from my arms and walks through the gate to the house.

The guard smiles at me as he passes. I keep walking, too, even though I didn't pay attention to where we went, and I don't know how to get home. The pounding of my heart slows down when I'm sure the guard has turned the corner and is out of sight. He's not going to stop me and ask for ID. He's not going to ask me what I was doing with that man. He's not going to ask what we were talking about.

I pause on the shady sidewalk and glance around. Nothing looks familiar, and there are rows and rows of houses. I don't know which way takes me home, but I can try and retrace my steps.

The honey-haired man is gone, even though I'm sure that wasn't his house he walked toward. I pass the house and continue on.

My head continues its spinning from yesterday. A God? Can it be true?
Is
there a Being in the sky Who created the world?

It seems Fischer believes it. I try to remember exactly what he'd said that day on the roof. He'd said there was Someone I could put my trust in. That's what Mr. Elders said, too. We could trust in God to take care of us, which is why the Greaters didn't want him around. I'm confused by the references and connections.

The man had said the Greaters needed more Greaters. They were the smart ones, the powerful ones, the ones who were good at making decisions.

That makes me wonder why they even need the Middles and Lessers around, but then the answer seems obvious. They can't be rulers without someone to rule.

My stomach churns. Mom means nothing to them. They don't care enough about her to even try and save her life. They have a lifeline, and they're not willing to throw it to her.

I round the corner heading back toward the market place. Or at least I hope I'm heading that way. My steps pick up speed as my anger grows. It isn't fair. Why do we let this go on? Why does Dad let it go on? It's obvious he knows about the corruption. He told Jamie to stay away from the pills. Were they the same pills the doctors gave Ava? It's most likely they are.