Anew: Book Two: Hunted (21 page)

Amelia

M
y relief that Ian is
willing to at least talk with the Council fades as soon as he is gone. If he’s
right about nothing good coming from the meeting, what will he do next? What
danger will he put himself in because of me?

 
“Can I get you
anything, Miss Amelia?”

Hodge is hovering. He’s clearly concerned about me.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say. “But thank you.”

The steward looks unconvinced. “Mister Ian will be back
shortly, no doubt. In the meantime, perhaps you would enjoy a massage or some
other relaxing activity?”

I can’t help but smile. Managing me can’t possibly have been
covered in butler school, or wherever Hodge acquired some of his skills.

“I’d rather go for a walk.” Quickly, I add, “I’ll stay in
Pinnacle House, of course. I promised Ian that I would. I just need to--”

To what? I can’t sit still, that’s for sure. Agitation is
building in me by the moment. Ian has been gone mere minutes and I already feel
as though I’m going to burst out of my skin.

“I need a distraction,” I say. “Gab showed me around when I
was here before but I’m sure that she’s very busy right now. I can explore on
my own, if that’s all right?”

Hodge inclines his head. “Of course, miss. If you wouldn’t
mind wearing this--”

He holds out a bracelet that is identical to the one I wore
on my previous stay at Pinnacle House. It’s coded to admit me to certain areas
in the vertical city but not to others.

I thank him as he says, “A little old school but so much
less obtrusive than an implanted chip, don’t you agree?”

The thought of any such thing makes me shudder. “Old school
is good. I’ll be back…when I am. I take it that you can get in touch with me if
you need to?”

“The bracelet will pulse if you have an incoming message.
Just tap it and you’ll be in contact. And, of course, it works in reverse. The
bracelet can link you to any assistance you might require.”

I suspect that means that my location will be known wherever
I go but that doesn’t surprise me. Privacy is the ultimate luxury in our world.
At least I can take off the bracelet should I so choose. I wonder how many
other people have trackers that can’t be removed.

At first, leaving the penthouse, I have no real idea of
where I want to go. But then I think of when Gab took me on a tour, showing me
the residential levels interspersed with recreational and entertainment areas,
food courts, shopping pavilions, nature centers, hydroponic gardens, and so on
that make up part of the vertical city of more than twenty thousand employees
of Slade Enterprises and their families.

Instinctively, I make for the level where I first realized
the true nature of Pinnacle House--a community in the midst of an enclave of
the elite where ordinary people are allowed to live their lives unaffected by
the oppression beyond their walls. That first time, the recreational area with
an atrium that rises several hundred feet to a virtual sky was overrun with
children just released from school. But it’s earlier in the day now and
everything is a lot quieter.

Full spectrum daylight illuminates the wide, airy space. A
soft breeze riffles the leaves of trees and bushes scattered throughout. A few
couples and families with very young children stroll by. No one is dressed in
the drab, monochromatic style of workers in the city. To the contrary, bright
colors abound. The only exceptions are those wearing the black uniforms I’ve
seen before and even they are obviously relaxed and off duty.

My presence doesn’t go unnoticed but the glances I receive
are friendly. I even see a few smiles. I’m not so naïve as to imagine that my
relationship with Ian is a secret. In any community, there’s bound to be
gossip. Fortunately, whatever is being said about me appears to be positive.

I stop finally at a café overlooking a shopping arcade,
where I spend several minutes pondering the seemingly endless list of choices.
With a hazelnut-half-soya-something-something in hand, I take a seat at a
wrought iron table in front. Only a few of the other tables are occupied. At
most of these, holographic screens project up from the surface. People are
absorbed in whatever they’re reading or watching. I could do the same but I
prefer to just soak up the sights and sounds of everyday living in this
remarkable place.

Not for the first time, it occurs to me that Pinnacle House
must be a very large thorn in the side of the Council and the shadowy figures
that control it. Why did Ian choose to put his headquarters where he did if not
to be deliberately provocative? Yet I don’t have the impression that he’s
sought a direct confrontation with the powers-that-be, at least not in the
past. What’s changed?

The most obvious answer isn’t long in occurring to me. I’m
in his life now. Whether we want to or not, we’re changing each other. He’s
exploded the world wide open for me, unleashing a floodtide of sensations,
experiences, and perceptions that are making up at least in part for the years
that I lost. Whereas I… I’ve hurtled him into a confrontation with the HPF,
forced him to question the most fundamental issue of who is entitled to basic
human rights, and perhaps in the process made him more aware of how ordinary
people, the scavengers in particular, are suffering. Ian, with his
consciousness raised and his fundamental sense of decency provoked may be more
than the Council is prepared to deal with.

I can only hope that the meeting is going well and that
he’ll be home soon. My chest tightens as I think that even now, when he hasn’t
been gone an hour, I miss him.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice the pretty young blonde
woman until she is standing in front of me. Her gamine face with a splattering
of freckles breaks into an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re Amelia,
right?”

I nod as I try to remember if I’ve met her before. I don’t
think I would have forgotten. Her short hair is styled to elfin points along
her forehead, cheeks, and the nape of her neck. She has huge, cornflower blue
eyes that match the color of her dress made of iridescent wool interwoven with
small, glittering beads. The bangles on her wrist make a soft, bell-like sound
as she waves a hand.

“We haven’t met. I’m Daphne, Gab’s spouse.”

My confusion melts away. I return her smile. “Of course.
Would you like to join me?”

“If I’m not interrupting anything--”

“Just wool gathering.” I indicate the chair beside mine.
“Please.”

As she sits, I can’t help noticing the tightness around her
eyes. Like me, she looks worried. I suspect we both are for the same reason.

“Is everything all right?” I ask.

She plucks at her fingers for a moment and sighs. “Shouldn’t
I be asking you that? You were at the Crystal Palace. It must have been
horrible.”

I try not to remember the sight of immense shards of glass
falling out of the sky but the image is burned into my brain.

 “Ian and his people got us out very quickly.” I shrug,
a little embarrassed. “I’m afraid that I may have upset one of them. Hollis, I
think his name is?”

Daphne grins. “Don’t worry about Holly, he’s a doll.
Besides, Gab likes you so you must be solid.” She takes a sip of her frothy
green drink and turns more serious. “It’s just that we’re all on edge right
now. Waiting’s hard.”

I’m happy to know that I’ve got Gab’s approval. I like her
and I suspect that she stands very high in Ian’s esteem. But I also sense a
kindred spirit in Daphne. Like her, I’m finding it incredibly hard to stand by
and do nothing while Ian puts himself in danger.

“It really is hard,” I say. “Do you have any tips for how to
deal with it?”

“Well, let’s see… Since Gab and I got together two years
ago, I’ve knit three afghans, sat through two meditation courses, drunk enough
herbal tea to float a stealth cruiser, and taken up boxing.”

“Boxing?” I can’t help but be surprised. She’s fine-boned
and slender, to the point of appearing delicate.

Daphne nods emphatically. “Pounding away at a punching bag
is a great stress reliever. So is getting in the ring and going a few rounds
with a sparring partner.” She wrinkles her nose. “Gab isn’t thrilled by that
last part but I tell her I’ll stop when she gets into a safer line of work.
Like that’ll ever happen.”

“You don’t think it might?”

She shoots me a look of disbelief that I even have to ask.
“Not unless we go through some worm hole into an alternate universe where
everyone plays nicely together. Gab’s super committed to making the world a
better place, no matter how many heads she has to knock together to do it. I
don’t like it but I’d never say anything to discourage her.”

“Why not? You’re obviously concerned.”

Daphne is silent for a moment, weighing her response.
Finally, she says, “I was a worker when Gab and I met. That’s a tough life, you
have to scramble every minute and one misstep can cost you everything. But it’s
still hugely better than what the scavs have. There are more of them every day.
Right now they’re fighting for scraps. How long before they decide that they’d
rather just fight, no matter what that costs them?”

It’s news to me that the population of scavengers is
increasing but I’m not surprised. That fits with what I’ve seen of this world.
All the same, the question is chilling. I think of the children I saw in the
park and the fate that could befall them, even worse than what they have
already suffered.

“Why are there more?” I ask. “I understand that technology
has eliminated a lot of jobs but there’s a safety net--”

“It’s getting pretty frayed,” Daphne says. “Gab says that’s
because the government is running out of money. It could just print more but
that makes the money that the rich already have worth less so they won’t allow
it. Benefits could be cut but that will cause widespread social unrest, also to
be avoided at all cost. All that’s left is to kick people off the welfare
rolls. The government’s making that easier to do than ever. Screw up your
recycling, use too much water, so much as look funny at a peace officer, and
you can be gone.”

“Nobody speaks up? Nobody objects?” I ask.

Daphne shrugs. “The government’s really good at pitting
people against each other. Those who get kicked off the welfare rolls are
labeled as social misfits who don’t deserve sympathy or support. Everyone else
tells themselves that they’ll be okay, right up to the moment when they
suddenly aren’t.”

“That can’t go on.” I don’t need any vast experience in life
to recognize that. All I need is the knowledge I have of the moments in history
when pent up rage on the part of ordinary people exploded into violence that
burned like a firestorm across entire cultures, wiping them out.

“No, it can’t,” Daphne agrees. “We could have avoided all of
this if the right choices had been made years ago but they weren’t. Now the
whole system is set to implode. The only question is who gets hurt the most?”

“Who always gets hurt?” I ask softly. “The helpless and
innocent--” Pain twists in me. I don’t want to think about what was done to me
but the memories are inescapable.

She must see my distress because she lays her hand over
mine. “Hey, it’s okay. Ian knows what he’s doing. He won’t be pushed into
anything but he won’t be caught unprepared either. Whatever comes, whenever it
does, we’ll be ready.”

I have to hope that she’s right and that the change so many
are crying out for can somehow be accomplished without loss of life. But I also
can’t help fearing that a darker and bloodier outcome is more likely.

“Tell you what,” Daphne says in an obvious effort to lighten
the mood. “Since we’re both stuck waiting, what do you say we hit the gym? I’ll
introduce you to my favorite punching bag.”

My first instinct is to beg off but I reconsider. I can’t
bear to simply sit around and after what she’s told me, the thought of hitting
something has definite appeal.

With no clear idea of what I’m getting into, I shrug. “Sure,
why not?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, I’m slumped on a bench in the locker room,
covered in sweat and fighting for breath. The woman who I’ve discovered hides a
mean left hook--and an even meaner right one--under an elfin exterior is
unlacing my gloves. Her grin is ear-to-ear.

“Girl, you’ve got some moves! I have to hand it to you. A
few more practice sessions and you’ll be ready to get in the ring.” Her chuckle
is pure anticipation. “I’d love to see Ian’s reaction when you tell him what
you’ve been up to. Should be quite a sight.”

I try to laugh but it comes out sounding more like a wheeze.
“Forget Ian, I know a Russian guy who
really
wouldn’t like it.”

Daphne takes a step back and stares at me with undisguised
surprise. “What are you talking about, a Russian? Who’s he?”