World Of Shell And Bone Page 10

  When Miss Adams strides in, I slip out and hurry up the stairs.

  I stop at the washroom to tuck the documents under my shirt and then go back into the office.

  “You were gone a long time,” Moon says, her gaze still locked on her computer screen. She was watching me after all. Perhaps I can never make another move without her seeing me. Did she also see Miss Adams leave just before I did?

  “I got caught talking to Mercury from the Repairs office,” I say, infusing my tone with disdain. “She’s extremely chatty. Have you met her?”

  Moon holds my gaze for a long time. I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t believe me. “No. I haven’t, actually. Mercury, you say?”

  “Yes.” There’s a slight prickling at the base of my spine. Will she check? There’s no one called Mercury, that I know of, in the Repairs office.

  But Moon shrugs, the sharp bone on the top of her shoulders making a tiny tent in the fabric of her shirt. “I see.” And she goes back to her work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  When I get home, I take my boots off and sag against the couch, utterly spent.

  “Thank you for the distraction outside the records room,” I tell Shale as he brings me a cup of tea. “You got me just enough time to get everything we needed. What did you do to get Miss Adams to leave?”

  Shale grins, and the act morphs his face into that of a little boy telling a joke he’s made up. My heart clenches and I have to remind myself to breathe. “Let’s just say I’m a master of impersonation, and we were able to ascertain that Miss Adams has a young son at home.”

  I laugh. “Well, you certainly got her attention.” I hoist my shirt up so I can slide the documents out. When I glance up at Shale, I see that he’s looking at the naked patch of skin on my stomach, entranced.

  When he sees me watching, he coughs and looks away. “Sorry.”

  Heat spreads through me and my thoughts swirl away as if they’re nothing more substantial than smoke. I force myself to speak in a level tone. “Here.” I hand him the documents.

  He takes them carefully, so our fingers don’t touch, and spreads them out on the table to count them. After a moment, he exhales. “You’ve managed to get it all, I think, going by the number of documents we expected to find.” But even through the relief he projects, I can see the hard lines of frustration as he eyes the text, unable to read it.

  “Do none of the Rads know how to read?”

  Shale glances at me sideways, then looks away. “Tomas does, and maybe one or two others. They can’t read like the females can, but enough to get by. I plan to learn one day.”

  “I could teach you.” As I say the words, I realize I want to teach him. Because what has hoarding power gotten me in this life?

  A smile plays on Shale’s lips. “You’d do that?”

  “Yes.” I look away when I realize I’m staring at his mouth. “When we get to China.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  There’s silence. I feel Shale’s gaze on me and my eyes travel to his. He moves almost imperceptibly toward me.

  I clear my throat and look back down at the papers, my heart racing. “Good. What happens now?”

  Taking a deep breath, Shale gathers up the documents.”Now I speak to Tomas, let him know we—you—did it. Then he’ll coordinate everything with the contacts in Toronto, and we’ll move from there.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “It’s only going to be another month or so.”

  I nod. A month and then…what? Happiness, most definitely. And victory. Shale and Tomas and the rest of the Rads will free Ceres. I’ll be pregnant by then, and we can emigrate safely because anyone opposed to freedom will be overthrown. We’ll drink milk because it’s plentiful and devour pears and honey for dessert. These are the stories I must tell myself if I am to go on.

  The sofa shifts as Shale sets the documents on the table. “What are you thinking?”

  After a long moment of silence, I ask, “Do you ever get scared, Shale?”

  The back of his hand, emanating heat, brushes the back of mine. “Sometimes.”

  “And what do you do?”

  “I picture someone worth fighting for. It used to be my father. After I went in the Rads, it was Tomas’s five-year-old daughter who went into the Asylum.”

  “I suppose that’s—”

  “Do you know who it is now?”

  We’re both still staring straight ahead. I’m suddenly aware of the warmth of his thigh, the proximity of his body to mine. “Who?” I whisper.

  He turns toward me and I toward him. We stare at each other for a long moment, and then I reach my hand up, almost in wonder, and trace the planes of his face. His jaw, square and masculine in a way that makes me feel things I’ve been conditioned so hard to avoid. His lips, soft but firm. His nose, aquiline and almost perfect. His thick, soft eyebrows.

  His hand is on me, feeling my shoulder blades, tripping down my spine. He trails his fingers along my collar bone, gentle as a feather. We delight in the sensation of simply touching someone of the opposite sex, simply reveling in the beautiful strangeness of the other’s body.

  When we can stand it no longer, we strip off our clothes and come together as we’ve never come together: fast, furious, and sweating. We nip and kiss and lick, tasting, devouring the other. And then we collapse in each other’s arms, exhausted and utterly sated.

  I jolt awake two hours later. The house is completely dark, and Shale’s hand is tangled in my hair. He kisses the top of my head. I let myself soak in the sensation.

  “Good evening,” he murmurs against my temple.

  I smile. “Didn’t you sleep?”

  “Maybe for a moment. I was worried I’d knocked you unconscious with my prowess.”

  I laugh softly. “Rather self-congratulatory of you, don’t you think?”

  “Mmm.” His free hand traces small circles on my thigh.

  There is a knock at the door. I sit up, trying to shake my mind free of the sensations he’s reigniting. “A moment, please!” I call toward the door. Then I look at Shale and smile. “Let’s clothe ourselves before company sees us.”

  He chuckles. “If we must.”

  Still smiling, I smooth down my clothes and pull the door open, wondering idly who could be here at this hour. I’m expecting one of the Rads.

  It is my mother.

  I know she is in trouble because her shirt is not tucked in. She just stands there on my doorstep, blinking at me like she doesn’t remember who I am.

  “Mother?” I take hold of her hand and pull her in. “What’s happened?”

  “I didn’t pass,” she whispers. Her eyes are wide, pleading, as if she expects me to do something. “I didn’t pass the physical fitness requirement. They won’t let me emigrate.”

  “Oh.” The word escapes my mouth like a sigh. “But you should get preference. You’re Mathilde Ca—”

  “I’m old. And the test was far too hard,” she says. “They only want the fittest people.” She looks at me again. “Why?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I should feel angry, or maybe smug. But instead all I feel is a wrenching pity. Here she is, graying, wrinkled, and deserted. She gave everything to her government, even her own children. And now they don’t want her. She is to be left behind with all of the others, to starve to death, to be pillaged and raped. “Would you like some tea, Mother? Or dinner?”

  “No.” She turns to go. “I have to get back to Orion. I don’t know what we’re to do now.” She stands there, staring out my door at nothing. “Oh, Vika,” she says in a voice that gives me goosebumps. “What is the world coming to?” And then she slips out and disappears.

  Shale closes the door and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. It feels like everything is going to pieces.”

  “I’m not.” Shale squeezes my shoulder. “I’m going to get Ceres out. You’re going to get her back.”

  “I’m going
with you.” Even as I say the words, I surprise myself. Afraid that any hint of disapproval on his face might cause me to change my fickle mind, I don’t look at him. “Please don’t say no.”

  Shale takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not my place to say no.”

  “Good.” I pull away and go to the table where the documents are still in a stack, a thought lodged like an arrow in my brain. “Before we go, I’d like to take a look at these.”

  Shale nods and heads to the desk in my bedroom. “I’ll bring you what I already have.”

  I go through all the paperwork until the numbers and the alphabet begin to smear together in my vision. “Does the government communicate everything in code?” I sigh.

  Shale chuckles grimly. “Oh, yes. It wouldn’t be safe otherwise, would it? How else can they be sure the power never escapes to anyone else?”

  I grasp at a document he’s added to the pile. “The code list! The one Celeste let me look at. Where did you get this?”

  “She gave us a copy before she went missing.”

  I look back through the papers until I find the bus schedule and lists of transported passengers. “People who’ve gone to the gas chamber recently.”

  I riffle through the pages. October 16th, 2078 stares back at me. The day Naiad was taken from the office. I check the code sheet and find the alphanumeric combination for N.L. I find her name there, and feel sick to my stomach. The characters seem to glow, as if to let me know that I am, in large part, responsible for her death. I think of her little girl with the clownish grin. Of her partner, left behind with no explanation.

  I turn to Shale. “Do you think the Rads could get me an address? For someone who was recently gassed?”

  “Of course,” he says, glancing at the schedule in my hand. “Who was it?”

  “Naiad Lamar. I worked with her. I’d like to visit her daughter before we go to Toronto.”

  “Alright.” Shale’s hand swallows mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  At eleven past eleven, Shale and I arrive at the deserted ghost town again. Acid rain mists from the sky, the stinging only intensifying my fear of the place. I can still remember the report of the gun as Tomas shot Drew’s knee. I wonder where Drew is now, if he’s been reduced to living on the streets with the Nukeheads. The Rads certainly can’t have any more use for him.

  Mica opens the door for us, and flashes me a weak smile. There are loose knots of men in the front room, and in the kitchenette, Tomas is listening to the radio and downing clear liquid that I guess is not water.

  He bangs his fist down on the table at something the announcer says. “Fucking bitch! Lying, fucking bitch!” He turns to us. “Have you heard the latest?”

  Shale shakes his head.

  “Apparently citizens are being advised to protect themselves at any cost from the Rads. They’re accusing us of breaking into the Asylums and raping the Défectueux! Emergency Services and Maintenance have been ordered to shoot to kill.”

  My heart’s pounding, but I force myself to ask the question. “Could there be any truth to what they’re saying?”

  “Fuck no!” Tomas throws his empty glass and it shatters against the wall. Shale steps forward so he’s slightly between me and Tomas. “The Rads aren’t kiddie rapists, for God’s sake!”

  “Good,” I reply. “Because I want to join you.”

  Tomas stares at me. Then he looks at Shale. “She serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I got you the documents, didn’t I?”

  Shale hands them over. “She did. It might be worth our time—someone from BoTA, and one more person who can read.”

  “Why do you want to help?” Tomas assesses me, trying to find my angle. I appreciate his skepticism.

  “Because my sister, Ceres, is in the Asylum in Toronto.”

  “But why do you care about her now? She’s been gone eight years.” Tomas strokes his beard.

  I try not to let his words flay my heart open. He’s right; I should’ve done something like this a long time ago. “I’m trying to rectify the situation.” I breathe in and out to control my racing pulse. “And I’m going to do this with or without your help. If the Rads really are being targeted, you could use me. Someone looks at me in my uniform, with Shale at my side in his Husband’s overalls, and they’re not going to shoot.”

  “She’s right,” Shale says. “We were going to get access by brute force, but what if we don’t need to, Tomas? Vika could get us to the bus terminal using her badge. And there might be other things we can’t anticipate at this moment that she could help with, too.”

  Tomas glares at us. “Alright. Leave the documents here and come back tomorrow for a solid plan. Same time.” He turns back to the radio.

  “Before we go,” I say, “I need something else. In return for my help with the documents.”

  Tomas looks at me, his eyes calculating. “What’s that?”

  “I need an address. Naiad Lamar. Please have it for me when we come back.”

  We turn to leave.

  When we get home, I curl up on the couch with Shale, breathing in his fragrance; it reminds me of warm honey, a rarity only available through le marché noir on occasion.

  “Shale,” I say finally, “You said before that Ceres was sick. What’s… what’s wrong with her?” I’ve been dreading asking this question, dreading hearing the answer. But Tomas’s rough-hewn words shook something loose in me. It’s time to stop the self-coddling.

  Shale goes still. “It’s probably best not to dwell on such things. They can weaken you to breaking.”

  “Please. I need to know.”

  He sighs, runs a hand through my hair. “He said there was something not right about her. He didn’t go into detail, but I got the impression that she’s been badly emotionally scarred. There might also have been some physical abuse.”

  I close my eyes against the trickle of tears. My baby sister, almost a young woman now, abused and scarred. Possibly beyond repair? Would she even run with me?

  Shale presses his chin on the top of my head. “But maybe he got it wrong,” he says, a little desperately. “Maybe she’s just fine.”

  I cannot bring myself to answer.

  When Shale and I awake the next day, a piece of paper has been pushed under our door. It’s Naiad’s address. I slip the paper into my boot.

  “When will you go visit her?” Shale asks.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I reply. I don’t say that I’m afraid to go. I’m afraid Naiad’s house is being watched for terrorist activity. I can’t risk being linked with her, not just because it would put my plan to free Ceres in jeopardy, but because I’m afraid of what they’ll do to me if I’m caught. But I can’t tell Shale this because I don’t want him to know how much of a coward I am. “Right now, I think I better go to work.”

  So I get dressed and head out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  I leave work early after I see Moon leave for the day, on some unknown errand. I can’t stand to be there a moment longer than necessary. Every second seems fraught with hypocrisy, the quality of my soul diminishing exponentially with every Défectueux I help keep jailed.

  When I arrive home, Shale rushes out of the kitchen to greet me. “What are you doing home so early?” His eyes dart around, and I realize he is nervous.

  “Why? What have you been up to?” I make my way to the kitchen, not at all sure of what I am going to find.

  It is certainly not this.

  Le marché noir purchases, strewn all over the counters. Copper pots and pans gleam in like-new condition. Silver ladles and spoons. Graters I’ve only seen the likes of in old magazines my mother has in her storage unit. I open my mouth, but at first, nothing comes out.

  Finally, I turn to Shale. “All this…you bought all this for me?”

  “Yes, and you have to act surprised.” He laughs at my expression. “Though I suppose I don’t have to tell you that—you’re doing a great job of it already.”


  I lift a ladle and feel its heft. It’s light years compared to the flimsy plastic spoons we use. “This is… I have no words to describe it. You shouldn’t have wasted your barter on me.”

  “Well, what else was I going to waste it on? I figure now you can make yourself useful around the house at the very least.” He winks at me to show he’s joking before resuming a serious expression. “I just want you to know you don’t have to change who you are if you don’t want to. You don’t have to be government-regulated and approved. There are ways around that. Okay?”

  I nod, overcome. The point isn’t the cooking utensils. Even though I have them, I can’t cook much more than potato stew or steamed plant roots in our depleted country. The point is that I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve Shale or his generosity, or the utter sheltered life I’ve been living without even realizing it.

  When it’s time to go to our meeting with the Rads, I am a bundle of nervous energy. On the bus, I can barely focus on what Shale says. After a few attempts at conversation, he falls silent.

  The room is full tonight. Men of every size and age sit in a tight circle, with Tomas in a chair at the middle. I’ve heard of the occasional female Rad member, but in this group, I seem to be the only one. The thought is terrifying and heady all at once.

  “Ah, speak of the devil,” Tomas says when we enter.

  “What?” I look at Shale for an explanation, but he shakes his head.

  “Old saying,” Tomas says. “We were just talking about you.”

  I take a seat just outside the circle, diagonally across from Mica, and Shale sits with me.

  “Let’s discuss the plan,” Tomas says. “The first thing is to get to the bus terminal. Since you work for BoTA, you have the right kind of identification badge we need to get inside the gates.”

  “My badge clearly states I work in the transcription office. Only Guards are allowed to transport Maintenance workers to the terminal.”

  Tomas nods. “Yes, I’m well aware of that, thank you. We have a man who can adjust your badge to reflect the necessary changes. We’ll procure a Guard uniform for you to wear that night. Are you comfortable driving a government car to the terminal?”