Captives (44 page)

“Matron said until her appointment.”

Everything seemed terribly quiet while Shaylinn waited for Levi to reply. He was probably upset. Jemma’s appointment was scheduled days after Levi’s planned rescue.

He finally responded. “Ten-four, Shaylinn. I’m going to need someone to help get our people out of there. Can you help me?”

“Yes.” Shaylinn would do anything to get away from this place.

“Good girl.”

A
nnouncements for the Lonn Liberation were playing more frequently on the ColorCast. Mason spent almost every spare moment talking with Levi, Jordan, and Shaylinn on the radio, and soon a detailed plan was made, all the way down to a secret knock.

But Mason still had to work out some sort of alibi that would keep the enforcers from suspecting his involvement in the escape. Ciddah was his only hope. They hadn’t spoken much since her visit to his apartment last Sunday morning. Perhaps she was embarrassed about having literally fallen apart in his presence, or perhaps he’d finally driven her too far away with his beliefs. He didn’t know. But he waited all day for an opportunity to broach the subject.

It came that afternoon. He finished cleaning exam room four, and when he walked into the hallway, Ciddah was standing outside her office reading a CompuChart.

“You going to watch the liberation?” he asked.

She looked up from the CompuChart, met his gaze, and smiled. “Of course.”

“I’ve never seen one,” Mason said, hoping his voice sounded casual.

Her smile faded, and her eyes grew distant and cold. But she said, “Would you like to watch it at my apartment?”

There it was, the moment he’d been hoping for. Yet something felt wrong: the look in Ciddah’s eyes. The coldness. Could she somehow know what he and Levi were planning? She’d invited him awfully fast. Mason pushed away his paranoia and tried to keep his smile small, not wanting to appear eager. “Sure. If you don’t mind explaining every little thing to an outsider.”

“I’d be honored.” Her expression faltered, and for the briefest moment an authentic, shy smile appeared. But it vanished just as quickly. Perhaps he’d imagined it.

He wished he hadn’t. He wished for a world without disease and prisoners and lies and theft. A world where he could spend each day trying to coax such a smile from this lovely girl. A world where she wasn’t the enemy and he wasn’t the captive.

On the day of the liberation, Mason arrived early to Ciddah’s apartment. She answered the door in a short peach-colored dress that had one sleeve and a crooked hem. Mason had never seen her wear anything but scrubs. He couldn’t stop staring.

Since they lived in the same building, their apartments were almost identical. Ciddah’s walls were brown rather than blue, and she’d decorated with a food theme, specifically baked goods: cookie-shaped pillows on the sofa, framed pictures of cakes and pies, curtains over the windows with tiny cinnamon rolls on them, and decorative bowls filled with wax pastries.

The place even smelled like vanilla and cinnamon—of course—and of sautéed onions and something else sweet.

“Sit wherever you like,” Ciddah said as she went back to the kitchen. She turned on the faucet and scrubbed a dish. “I was just cleaning up. I hope you’re hungry, because I made us a feast.”

He glanced at a steaming pan on the stovetop as he sat down on her sofa. “You did?”

“I did.” She gave him a real smile then. It distracted him a moment before reality caused him to sink back against the cookie pillows. If Ciddah made dinner, he couldn’t volunteer to fetch it from the Blue Bell Diner—which had been his plan to slip away just long enough to free the women. Dessert maybe? That cupcake place?

Ciddah banged around in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, checking whatever was cooking in the oven. “I hope you’ll extend a little mercy my way, Mason. I’m not a bad cook, but I’d never tried to roast beets before. I think I should’ve peeled them after they were cooked.” She held up her hands, the palms of which were stained dark pink.

So preoccupied with the crisis in his agenda, Mason’s laugh came out forced. “Shanna was the dye expert in Glenrock. I think she had us all help her with red and purple at some point.”

Ciddah crouched out of sight behind the island counter. “Did you all help each other with tasks?”

“Whenever someone needed help, they’d ask.”

Ciddah carried two plates into the living room and set them on the table before the couch. There was a thick steak, a sautéed red and green vegetable dish that Mason guessed was part beets, and a thick slice of brown bread topped with a hunk of melting butter. She sank beside him on the sofa, so close their arms rubbed together.

How could he tell her that he didn’t eat meat? “This … looks amazing, Ciddah. Thank you. Did you bake the bread yourself?”

She touched her finger to the butter on her slice of bread and swirled the lump over the surface. “Baking is my favorite, especially anything that’s kneaded. It’s relaxing.” She picked up her bread and bit into it.

Mason did the same. It was excellent. “Do people live in the lowlands, where the animals are?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone living there. I think it’s just farmland.”

“People must be tasked there, right?”

“Sure.” She shrugged one shoulder. “But everyone I know is a medic.”

“Except Lawten,” Mason said.

She stiffened beside him. “He was a level twenty medic in the SC when I did my first internship. He got me into the program.”

“Oh.” Ciddah and Lawten had known each other for years then.

“It’s starting! Wyndo: increase volume: twenty-three.” The volume came on.

Mason hadn’t known he could set voice commands for his Wyndo. He tried a bite of the roasted beet salad and found it quite good. “Mmm, this is—”

“Shh!”

On screen, Finley Gray and Luella Flynn were standing in the center of a packed auditorium, and were dressed to match, as always: Finley in a white suite with a silver vest and Luella in a silver gown that glistened like it was made of glitter. Tomorrow the Highlands would be coated in white and silver mimics.

“So many celebrity nationals have shown up for this historic event,” Luella said. “I’m simply thrilled.”

“I’m still in awe over Lawten Renzor’s suit!” Finley whistled.

An image of Lawten in a satin blue-and-black-printed suit flashed on the screen.

“He looks amazing,” Luella said. “He’ll be inspiring his own mimics with that look.”

“Walls! I hope so.” Finley chuckled. “You know, I might even be one of them.”

“Well, we’re almost there, Safe Landers,” Luella said, gazing into the camera so that it seemed like she was looking right at Mason. “Only five minutes until show time. Stay tuned.”

The Colorcast went to a bit about silver glitter Roller Paint. Apparently the trends weren’t so random after all.

“You’re not eating your steak,” Ciddah said.

Mason glanced at her and winced. “I’m a vegetarian.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

They stared at each other a moment, then Mason said, “The beets and bread are really good.”

Ciddah’s cheeks turned pink. “Well, there’s more, so have as much as you want.”

The program started again. The screen displayed pictures of the dozen or so Safe Lands nationals who Finley claimed were going to be liberated today.

“Wait,” Mason said, “I thought this was just for Lonn. Who are these other —” His words fell away as he recognized some of the portraits. Five were older women from Glenrock, including his own mother, Tamera.

Mason stood up so fast he knocked his plate to the floor. He stepped forward. Stopped. Walked to the door. Turned back.

Ciddah set her plate on the sofa and stood. “Mason, what’s wrong?”

What could he do? He’d left the radio in the van. Even if he ran down there, Levi probably had no way of contacting Bender at the moment.

“Mason?”

Could he just sit here and watch them kill his mother? Maybe Bender would free everyone who was being liberated tonight. But what if he didn’t? “Liberation is death?”

“I don’t know; I think so.”

“Ciddah, please! Tell me what exactly is going to happen to these people. It’s important.”

She wrung her hands. “Liberation is a mystery. That’s part of its splendor. We don’t know what happens, only that it’s wonderful.”

“Basing your death on hearsay is illogical. Who says it’s wonderful? Has someone been liberated and returned to tell the tale?”

“No, but—”

“Then how do any of you know it’s wonderful?”

“Mason, please sit down. You’re frightening me.”

He glanced back to the screen. His mother’s picture was displayed alone. She’d been a number nine at thirty-nine years old, so Luella led a chanting prayer to Fortune to have mercy on her as she entered the tenth life.

“That’s so sad,” Ciddah said. “Entering Bliss before age forty. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.” Mason prayed he could expose liberation for whatever it truly was, that his mother was still alive, and that he could hold himself together in front of Ciddah. The other women were counting on him. He knelt and started to pick up his food that now covered the floor. His hands were shaking.

“Let me help you.” Ciddah ran into the kitchen and returned with some napkins. When the mess was cleaned up, Mason sat back down on the couch.

The last national highlighted was Richark Lonn. Majestic music played as pictures of Lonn flashed and text listed facts about his life. Born in 2037, he excelled in mathematics and science. After graduation, he’d entered medic training, was the fastest national to reach a level twenty at age twenty-three. He’d maintained a steady relationship with Martana Kirst that had started in boarding school. She and Lonn had gifted the Safe Lands with eight children. Most of the pictures had both she and Lonn in them.

Luella Flynn’s voice spoke over the montage of images. “Martana was liberated suddenly in 2068 in a complication with her tenth pregnancy.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Ciddah said.

“How do you know?” Mason asked.

“It’s kind of an urban legend amongst medics. They say that Martana did miscarry the tenth child, but she didn’t die from it. She killed herself afterward.”

“That’s terrible!”

“She and Lonn made seven babies together in a span of twelve years. She wanted to be done, but the Guild said no. She was still strong, and they wanted to keep her as part of the harem. She completed one surrogacy term—baby number eight—then had a ninth child by Lonn. At that point, she was on meds for depression. When she didn’t conceive again on her own, she was conscripted for surrogacy, but when she lost that tenth baby, it was too much. She took her own life. And that’s why Lonn started the Black Army—so they say.”

“Because really, the Safe Lands killed her,” Mason said.

Ciddah leaned back against the couch. “That’s a strange way to put it.”

“If I were the man who loved her, I’d see it that way. She wanted the pain to stop, and the Safe Lands refused. What you saw Kendall go through, Martana suffered that nine times. I told you, Ciddah, a mother and her child have a bond. To be kept apart from your child nine times … I can’t imagine how she must have suffered. Lonn too.”

“You think a donor suffers as well?”

“Lonn was more than a donor in a closet in City Hall. He loved Martana. And he knew those babies were his. Of course he suffered.”

Applause brought Mason’s attention back to the ColorCast. The history montage had ended. Lonn stepped out onto the stage to a thunderous reception, but Lonn was not smiling. He walked to the center of the stage, where Luella Flynn sat on a sofa, and sat down beside her.

“You have a special message you want to share tonight, don’t you, Richark?”

“I do.” He looked into the camera. “A revealing is a wonderful experience. If you’ve ever wondered who your donors were, fill out a revealing waiver today. And if you learn that I’m your donor, I love you very much.”

“Love is so special, Lonn,” Luella said. “Isn’t liberation a wonderful time to communicate peacefully with all the Safe Lands?”

Lonn chuckled. But they cut away without letting his reply be heard.

Mason glanced at Ciddah. Tears streaked down her cheeks from eyes so suddenly bloodshot they looked more red than white. “You think Lonn and Martana are your parents?” Mason asked.

She laughed. “No!” She tried to laugh again, but it came out more like a gasp. “You’re so dim.”

“How can you be so sure? The ages fit.”

“Because my donors live in the Midlands. In the Prospector.”

Mason swallowed; she’d never mentioned anything so personal before. “How long have you known?”

“I applied for a revealing on my fourteenth birthday. Found out who my donors were that same day. Met them the day after that.”

“They had both filled out waivers?”

“The day I was born.”

“And they were together? Lifers?”

She nodded and smiled. “They’re a lot like Lonn and Martana were. According to my donors, I have three siblings out there. But none of them have come looking.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it? Knowing your parents. Knowing you have family.”