17
I drove my feet into the tiles with every scrap of effort I could muster, running as I’d once run before—towards a small, open wall gate.
Almost at the stairs…
Footsteps so close…
I swung round the corner, leaping for the third step— Father Mark’s hand clamped around my arm, pulling me up short, swinging me into the wall with a painful thud. I twisted frantically, yanking with all my strength…off balance, his hand opened, releasing me—I grabbed for the rail…missed.
Tumbling…ceiling, floor, rails spinning in front of me…pain stabbing me with each impact…turn of the stairs coming up…a glimpse of Father Mark racing after me, empty-eyed. I stumbled half to my feet, pushed off the wall and tried to reach the next flight only to stagger and crash into a small table—too dizzy, I’ve got to move! Father Mark was almost on me, reaching… I dived for the banister, threw myself over…dropped… O-Lord-further-than-I-remembered…
Smack!
Pain shot through my feet and hands…a rush of displaced air above me…I pushed off with my mercifully unbroken ankles as Father Mark landed behind and somehow I ran… sort of…winded, sense of balance betraying me…
Gasping for air…
Footsteps closer.
Cafeteria door coming up.
Breathing behind me, any moment he’d have me…
I slammed through the doors at full tilt, not slowing ’til I stood in the middle of a group of early birds and kitchen prep people. Spun around, my heart thundering in my chest.
Father Mark hurtled through the doors, saw all the people and pulled up with a jerk. Shook his head as though to clear it, blinked, rubbed his temples. Looked up and saw me, staring at him, my eyes wide with terror and exertion. The color drained from his face, leaving it sickly white. Turning abruptly, he strode through the doors and away.
“Are you okay, Margaret?” someone asked.
“Oh, fine, fine. Just…just racing Father Mark to supper.”
I stayed, alternately poking some shepherd’s pie around on a plate and rubbing my belly protectively, until I could leave with a group headed back to my block and my floor. God help me, Lucas’s paranoia had probably just saved my life! Both our lives. But if I simply called out the guard on Father Mark, he might get hurt—or they might. I’d get Eduardo to come around, and I’d tell him face to face—he might not overreact if I was sat right there in front of him, safe and sound.
My hands were beginning to shake as I let myself into the apartment. Bane raised his head, relief mingling with hurt on his face.
“The vegetables put up a fight?” he asked, would-be casually.
Jon was making his deeply-indented notes on a notepad, no doubt working on his speech again.
“I’m sorry I’m a little late.” My voice didn’t really shake, but they both turned towards me at once.
“What happened?”
“I think…” I glanced at the now carefully locked door. “I think we may…” I opened the drawer and transferred the nonLee to my pocket, checking the charge. “…have a problem after all.”
“What sort of problem?” asked Bane.
Jon, clearly determining what I was doing, made the connection. “Father Mark?”
The doorbell rang. I tiptoed up to look through the peephole. Father Mark. Well, at least he hadn’t gone and jumped off the roof.
“Is that him?” asked Bane.
I took another look. Still white-faced, but it looked like him in his head. I took out the nonLee and snapped off the safety catch, then held it behind my back. Operated the latch as silently as I could, said, “Come in, Father Mark,” then skipped back to put most of the furniture between myself and the door.
Father Mark came in very slowly and closed the door behind him, as though deliberately avoiding sudden movements. Went and sat on the sofa.
“Are you okay, Margaret?” he whispered, his eyes running over me fearfully.
“I’m fine,” I said. Bruised, but I hardly needed to say that.
He put his head in his hands.
“Problem?” demanded Bane. “What problem?”
“Well, I can’t be certain what his intentions were, but just now he met me in a deserted corridor, and I was so frightened I ran away. Ran like heck, in fact.”
“Thank God,” whispered Father Mark. “Thank God you ran! Why did you run?”
“Lucas had got me primed to listen to my instincts, thanks be to God. I expect normally my brain would’ve interfered until it was too late.”
Father Mark looked sick and dropped his face to his hands again.
“Did he hurt you?” demanded Bane.
“I’m okay,” I said quickly.
“So…why did he go for you then and not yesterday?” asked Jon.
I’d been thinking about that. “Sister Krayj was there on the train. But the corridor was empty just now.”
“I think they’ve made it so the programming doesn’t kick in unless I’ve a very strong chance of success, the sly dogs,” whispered Father Mark. He’d also been thinking about it. “I could feel myself…not myself exactly…something…analyzing the situation.”
“It wasn’t you,” I said firmly. “It was like a stranger was looking out of your eyes. That’s what tipped off my brighter, more primitive self.”
“But…” Bane’s hand twitched towards the place where he’d carried his nonLee on the Liberations, his head turning unconsciously towards the phone and the panic button. “How could you come here now! Sister Krayj’s not h—” he broke off, looking petrified. He’d never thought he could beat Father Mark, even before.
“No,” said Father Mark in a horribly calm voice. “But Margaret’s got a nonLee behind her back, and if she’s the smart girl I’ve always known, the safety catch isn’t on.”
Was that, Margaret, if it’s on, take it off?
“She has? Oh…” Bane let out a long, relieved breath.
“So…why are you here, Father Mark?” I asked warily. “I mean, I’m sorry, but there’s no question now, you’re going to have to see a doctor— Father Mark!”
At the word ‘doctor’ his head jerked back and his entire face screwed up in pain—after a moment the spasm seemed to pass and he held his head in his hands again. When he finally looked up at me, all color had gone from his cheeks. “That give you some idea?”
“They’ve…” aghast, I groped for vocabulary from Hollywood thrillers, “uh…implanted that response in you. To d—” I broke off as he winced in anticipation.
He held up his hands, palm up, looking bewildered, his brow damp with sweat. “I…don’t remember it! But they must’ve done. It’s not natural. I tried, Margo, that’s the first place I tried to—” He broke off, breathing hard. “I can’t even talk about go— Lord help me!” He clutched his head some more and finally managed to go on. “Then I tried to go to Eduardo so he could take me to…but I couldn’t even do that. So…so eventually I decided I would just…just come and have a chat with you.”
“Come and have a chat?” exploded Bane, still looking ready to throw himself between us, much good it would do. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Apparently, yes, intermittently!” Father Mark’s eyes were wild, all his calm shredding away. “Margaret, I was able to come and chat to you”—he was staring at me, hard—“do you understand me?”
My mind still reeled in horror at the situation and what had been done to him. But he had a plan and I was supposed to be catching on. Oh. Yes. He’d told himself he was coming to chat with me…knowing what I’d be holding if I let him in.
I steeled myself, not sure how much control he still had. “I understand you.”
So did that other thing inside him. It slid into his eyes and he was off the sofa and coming—I swung the nonLee forward and fired and immediately fired again. When he dropped to the ground, he was halfway to me.
“Margo!” cried Bane.
“I’m fine,” I gasped. “Lord have mercy, he’s quick!”
I half-stumbled, half-ran to the phone, because I didn’t know if I’d hit that fast-moving target both times, hesitated momentarily between Eduardo and the hospital, then phoned Eduardo. “Eduardo! They did program Father Mark, only they were too clever for us! He’s unconscious on the floor and he needs securing before he comes around.”
Eduardo said a word he’d never used in my hearing before and turned from the phone to bark several orders sending guards and Doctor Frederick to my room instantly. Then demanded, “Are you safe?”
“I’ve a nonLee in my hand.”
“Get out of there, for pity’s sake!”
“No. He might come round, and I’d rather know where he is if he does!”
Eduardo snarled and hung up, then burst in an improbably short time later, hard on Bumblebee’s heels. Bee was already covering Father Mark’s unconscious body with his nonLee as though it were a conscious—and rabid—tiger.
Eduardo grabbed my shoulders and walked me out the door; pushed me into Unicorn’s grasp when he came rushing up. “Take her to…to your apartment. Don’t answer the door to anyone until I’ve phoned to say we’ve got Father Mark safely locked down in the hospital, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hey, wait up!” Bane hurried after me. “I’m coming!”
“And me.” Jon actually ventured to catch Bane’s hand and tow him along.
Unicorn hurried me off, but deigned to wait a few moments for them before shutting the apartment door. His exertions didn’t seem to be causing him pain, so he really was almost entirely better, a small plus point in what was otherwise shaping up as a really bad day.
Bane gathered me into his arms as soon as we were sitting on the sofa. “Oh, what a nightmare!” he muttered. “I was so glad he was okay. I mean…I still am, but…”
It was awkward. Was it just.
Unicorn was standing with his nonLee in his hand, attention divided between the door and the window.
“I was afraid Eduardo would overreact,” I said. “Clearly I was right.”
Unicorn shot me a look. “An assassin of Mark Tarrow’s caliber is after you and you think Eduardo’s overreacting? Think again, Margo.”
I shifted uncomfortably in Bane’s arms. Even after what’d happened on the stairs, and just now, it was still hard to believe that Father Mark, the priest I’d known and loved since I was fourteen, could really hurt me.
We waited. We discussed the awful situation a few times, and then we waited some more. When Bane and Jon started to work on the next Braille talk, I took my knotted cord rosary from my pocket and said one for Father Mark, my hand straying to my belly whenever Unicorn’s blue eyes weren’t turned in my direction. Father Mark and the baby. I hadn’t hit my stomach very hard…had I? I just wasn’t sure: the tumble down the stairs was a painful blur. But the baby had been okay after…after what happened with Bane. It would be okay now. Please Lord? Please, please, please, please, please…
Finally the phone rang. Unicorn picked it up.
“That’s Eduardo,” he told us, after hanging up. “He’s coming now.”
“Thank goodness,” I muttered. “I haven’t even posted my blog yet, and I’m exhausted!”
Eduardo arrived pretty quickly, and Unicorn let him in.
“Well, Father Mark is in Mr. Everington’s old room and very well secured,” Eduardo said.
“How is he?”
“He came round as we were moving him. Got one look at Doctor Frederick and went—” Eduardo grimaced. “I was afraid he was having a stroke or something. Doctor Frederick had to put him under.”
“He was fine when he talked about having to see a shrink earlier,” I said.
“But he wasn’t talking about seeing a shrink about the programming, was he? They’ve done some sort of job on him, all right.”
I was alarmed by his expression. “But…the psychiatrists will be able to cure him, won’t they?”
“If you know of anyone here with expertise in military mind-programming, please let me know. The doctors we’ve got will do what they can. We’ll just have to hope it’s enough.”
My heart sank. I didn’t like the sound of that. The Underground got every kind of defector: surely there was someone we could get in from Africa?
“Oh, you’re free to move around normally,” Eduardo told me. “Don’t go trying to visit Father Mark yet, though. Not until Doctor Frederick’s got him stabilized.” He turned to Unicorn.
“Jack, enter it into the standing orders of all guard units. Anyone sees Father Mark Tarrow near Margaret’s apartment or near any place Margaret is known to be or out of the hospital, period, they shoot on sight and they keep shooting until they see him go down. No counting shots, no challenge, no hesitation, understood?”
Unicorn nodded and turned to leave—I caught his arm. “You can’t do that! They could kill him!”
Eduardo eyed me stonily. “Margaret, how many young guards who just happened to be standing between you and Father Mark do you want to die, just because they hesitated? I will inform Father Mark of these orders as soon as he is well enough, and I’m sure they will be a great comfort to him.”
“Well, they’re not to me!” I snapped, but I let Unicorn go.
“I have to think about the guards too, Margo,” said Eduardo, with a shrug, and followed Unicorn out.
True, but… “Stony-hearted gargoyle!” I couldn’t help muttering, once he was out of earshot.
“He is right, Margo,” said Jon. “Father Mark would rather die than hurt you, or anyone else.”
“And the guards wouldn’t stand a chance against him,” said Bane. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they’ve got the guts, but they haven’t got the experience, have they?”
“But it’s not Father Mark’s fault,” I protested. “It would be wrong to kill him.”
“He’d thank us.”
“I don’t care!”
“Come on, Margo,” said Bane glumly. “Let’s go home. Don’t get all upset.”
I swallowed. I was beginning to feel quite upset. Blast. Suppose I was just going to be emotional for the next nine months. Oh well. It was more than worth it.
What had woken me? I lay still for a moment. Bane’s breathing remained deep and even beside me—all the excitement and stress of the day had tired him too.
I began to roll over to cuddle up to him and go to sleep again—stopped, wincing. I hurt. In a lot of places. But it wasn’t Father Mark’s fault. He was in a much worse state than I was. I directed my annoyance where it belonged—at the EuroGov. When I ran my hand over my stomach, it only felt a little sore in a couple of places…better than the rest of me.
I was about to finish rolling over—more gently—when I felt a trickle of wetness between my legs. My breath caught—it felt like my heart did too. I wanted to lie down and pull the covers over me and hope when I woke up again it was just a dream. But I felt all too awake.
Hands beginning to shake, I pushed back the sheets and slid from the bed. Bane didn’t stir as I tiptoed to the bathroom. Once inside I flicked the light on and locked the door.
“Please, Lord, please, please, please…” I whispered desperately, pretty much diving onto the toilet and dragging my pants down.
Scarlet with blood.
“No!” My voice climbed before I remembered Bane and clamped a hand over my mouth to quell the sound. He mustn’t know! Not…not now.
My throat was closing up and tears were squeezing from my eyes. I made a last-ditch effort to stay calm. How much blood was there? Perhaps…perhaps it wasn’t?
I looked again. It would’ve been quite light if it was my monthly, but seeing that there wasn’t meant to be any blood for another eight months or so…
Plop.
Oh God, was that my baby? I leapt up and peered into the toilet. A blood droplet was diffusing through the water. Not the baby, but…what was I supposed to do? My baby was going to…was going to come out, and…
I lost it then, I just lost it. I dragged the towel from the towel rail and shoved it under me and then I lay there and cried, one corner of the towel balled up in my mouth to muffle the sound. I’d never felt so helpless, even when strapped to that gurney waiting to be dismantled—there was nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do, nothing.
Time passed, dimly I heard clocks strike a few times and I attempted, sporadically, to get myself together. But my aching heart was still lodged firmly in my chest and my body seemed determined to cry it right out.
The chiming of another clock… Four o’clock. How long had I been in here? Surely Bane would miss me soon and wake up? He didn’t sleep on such a hair trigger now as he had during our flight across Europe, but I must’ve been in here for hours.
The baby is gone, Margo. Bane isn’t. All I could do now was to protect Bane, and right now that meant not letting him find out about this. Not allowing anything to tip him back into that black depression.
I managed to pry my aching body from the floor at last. There was a little more blood on the towel, and…a small bloody clot. My heart caught in my throat. That must be it. It was so tiny… I crouched down as close as I could and tried to see, but I could make out nothing. Far too early.
It was still my baby. Our baby. I couldn’t just…what? Flush it down the toilet? Throw it in the bin? Even the thought made my chest clench up.
Right. Okay. What was I going to do?
Ten minutes later, cleaned up and clutching our largest serving spoon and a wooden knick-knack box, I tiptoed out into the corridor.
Turning from closing the door, I started. Unicorn stood there watching me curiously, his vivid eyes shadowed in the dim night-time illumination.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“I’m on guard tonight—and I might ask you the same thing.”
“I live here!”
“I meant in the corridor. What’s that?” He pointed to the box.
The word ‘nothing’ tried to strangle me. I didn’t reply.
After looking at me rather closely for a moment he just said, “I’ll have to accompany you wherever you’re going, you understand.”
“But Father Mark is secured—”
“Eduardo’s orders, Margo. He’s probably just going to put a Swiss Guard by your door from now on, but for tonight, you’ve got me.”
Did Eduardo really think Father Mark could get loose? Or was putting U on guard tonight, although he hadn’t actually been cleared of ‘physically active duties’ yet, just Eduardo’s way of expressing confidence in him, after he’d had to stay behind instead of going to Brussels?
“Fine,” I muttered, heading off along the corridor.
“Uh, Margo? Where are you going?”
“To the gardens. I’ve got something to do.”
Unicorn raised an eyebrow a fraction and directed a meaningful look at my feet. I looked as well. Bare. Oh, Margo, you idiot! For a moment I stood, my mind at a standstill…if I went back in, I’d surely wake Bane…
“Well, it’s not cold, is it?” I managed at last, and hurried off before Unicorn could reply. He followed, of course.
Darkness closed in all around as I left the buildings, though in the distance the lights of Rome twinkled behind the well-illuminated Vatican wall. I should’ve brought a flashlight…too late. I plowed on anyway, the dew-damp grass chilling my feet, despite it being almost June. Before I could fall over a gravestone, light stabbed the darkness. I glanced back: Unicorn had produced a flashlight from somewhere. I carried on, too drained to muster thanks or any comment at all. I knew where I was going. There was a little secluded grassy spot surrounded by a semi-circle of bushes…yes, here.
Unicorn shone his flashlight in helpful silence as I knelt by the flower bed, laying the box beside me, and began to dig in the loose earth with the spoon, clawing the soil to one side with my hands.
A movement beside me… Unicorn had opened the box and was unfolding the hankies. “Don’t touch that!” I said, so fiercely that he took his hand away.
“Margo, that looks like blood. What on earth…?” He broke off as I carefully, so carefully, refolded the cloth around its insubstantial contents and closed the box. “Oh Margo…you weren’t…were you?”
“I was,” I choked. “I was.” I turned and attacked the hole again.
“Margo, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry!”
I looked at Unicorn again, startled by the depth of contrition in his voice. Oh…of course…he would feel this triply, not only as our friend, but as part of our security and even more so as Eduardo’s likely successor.
“It wasn’t your fault, U,” I said thickly. “It was…it was the EuroGov.”
It was Father Mark, said a little voice of unreason. He knocked you down the stairs.
Only because the EuroGov made him, I told that little voice, as firmly as I could. He’s just as much a victim as…as my…
I went back to spooning soil. The hole was nearly ready. No one would be digging all that deep, not so close to the foot of this bush. I squared off the bottom as well as I could with my awkward implement and gently lowered the box into place.
“Do you…want to have a priest?” Unicorn’s voice betrayed something of the helplessness I’d been feeling.
“Yes,” I said softly. “I do. But…after I tell Bane. But I can’t tell him quite yet. And Father Mark definitely cannot know. I’ve got to keep this quiet. For now. Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
He looked upset. “If no one knows, Margo, that will be very hard on you.”
“You know. You can pray for me, right? Anyway, with everything that’s going on at the moment, this is the least of our worries, isn’t it?” Hard to even say that, but I had to be strong, for Bane, for the vote…
“Well, yes, but…promise that if you need to talk about this, you will come to me, or you will…talk to Jon, perhaps?”
“I am not telling Jon about this before Bane!”
Unicorn pulled a face. “I suppose not. But—”
“Okay, I promise.”
“Then so do I. And I will. Pray.”
I turned my attention back to the little box in the hole. Kissed my muddy fingers and transferred the kiss to the box.
“I love you, little baby,” I whispered. “And so does your daddy, even if he doesn’t know it yet.” My voice broke on the last word and I had to squeeze my eyes closed.
When I opened them again and reached for the heap of soil, Unicorn offered me something. A blue and white flower from a nearby bush. I managed a nod of thanks as I accepted it, then reached in and laid it on the little box. It was only the work of a couple of moments to push the soil back into place and make the area look undisturbed. I sat for a moment, then, feeling horribly empty.
But the semi-ceremony of the burial had steadied me a little. Lord, please look after our baby. I suppose that’s a silly thing to say, of course you will, but I have to say it anyway.
Time to go. I was desperate to get back to Bane. But as we passed the door to Kyle’s room, I couldn’t help stopping. I wanted a hug from my mum so badly that just the thought brought tears to my eyes. Mum wasn’t here. Kyle was…
I found myself stepping up to the door and tapping softly. And rather nervously. He’d been so angry after that terrible row. But what had Pope Cornelius said, if we both wanted to make up… I certainly did.
There was no reply, though. I tapped again, then yet again, a bit louder.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked Unicorn, my heart sinking.
“I’m not certain, Margo,” he said gently. “Adoration, maybe? I think he might be on the rota tonight.”
Oh… What was I thinking, anyway? Bane really should be the first person to know about this. Bane…I had to get home.
I’d no sooner closed the door behind me when I heard Bane calling, “Margo?” He sounded scared. I rushed across the living room and opened the bedroom door.
“I’m here, Bane. I’m sorry, I went for a walk. Couldn’t sleep. Unicorn insisted on trailing along behind, Eduardo’s orders.”
“Oh.” Bane sounded reassured. And it certainly wouldn’t occur to him to be jealous of U. “But…why, Margo? You’ve never gone for a walk at this time before!”
“I’m sorry, I was lying awake for hours. I really needed to go for a walk. I thought I’d get back before you woke up.”
“Well, I only woke up just now. Another few moments and I’d have called the guards.”
“I’m so sorry, Bane. I didn’t think.”
“Well, did it work? Are you coming back to bed?” He still sounded rather disgruntled.
I wanted to go straight to him, but I was so wet and muddy. “I hope so. I’m just going to run to the toilet.”
Bane sighed and flopped back into bed. “Okay.”
“Your feet are freezing!” he grumbled, when I slipped into the bed at last, trying not to grab hold of him like a depressive limpet. “You know,” he added, with a suggestive nuzzle, “you really should have woken me. I can think of a much better way to loosen you up.”
My mood lightened, just a fraction, at the thought of trying again. Then fell. It wouldn’t be the same baby. It would never be the same baby.
No point even thinking about it until I’d stopped bleeding, anyway.
“If you don’t mind, Bane,” I said softly, “I’d rather just have a cuddle.”
Bane stopped nuzzling and gathered me close. “Come here, then, cold feet and all.” I nestled my head under his chin, and he rested his cheek on my hair. “This Father Mark business is so awful, isn’t it? I was so glad he was alive. I mean, I still am…it’s just…” He trailed off miserably.
He sounded so down it made my heart thud slightly in fear. He’d remained comparatively up-beat since our return—but only comparatively. The confidence and excitement of Brussels was only a memory. Even with Karen’s help, I kept worrying that his mood was slipping again. He must not find out. Not yet.
If only Father Mark had stayed dead, that irrational voice whispered. Then our baby would still be alive.
Shut up, I replied. I’m glad Father Mark’s alive.
I am.
Am, am, am.
29 days
Did none of you read Mrs. N’s conclusion? All these comments, oh, what a shame, now there’s no cure for M-type cancer, perhaps IQ screening should count for more during the Sorting tests… Shame on you! Every child deserves to live! Whether they’re the brainiest child in school or the least intelligent or the tiniest clump of cells in a mother’s womb. They deserve life! Why can’t you get that into your thick heads?
Margaret Verrall—blog post, ‘The Impatient Gardener’
“Jon?” said Bane in a rather small voice, when Jon came round the next day.
“Um-hm?”
“Do you…want to go down to the nonLee range and practice?”
After a beat, Jon just said, “Yeah, of course.”
Once they decamped—Bane muttering, “And yes, I’m an idiot, and I apologize,” as they trooped out—I headed off to Lucas’s room.
“Here…” When Lucas opened the door, I held out a flowery white fuchsia. Lucas suddenly looked like my favorite person in the world, compared to how my subconscious felt about Father Mark. His face brightened and he accepted it at once. “I owe you an apology. Father Mark’s programmed to the eyes, poor thing. I think the fact you wouldn’t let it go probably saved my life.”
His eyes went wide, straying back from the plant to me. He caught my hand with his free one. “Safe?”
“I’m fine.” I was. Physically. Somehow I kept my voice steady. “I listened to my instincts and I ran away, and I’m fine. Father Mark’s fine too…sort of.” Not that I care, right now. “He’s in the hospital, anyway. Very secure.”
Lucas frowned. Hesitated. Looked down at the new plant for a moment, as though he’d like to bury himself in its care. But finally he placed it on the table. I’d never seen him part with a new one so quickly. And this was a fuchsia!
“I…look. Father Mark?” He made the gesture for look and pointed around the room. I frowned—he was nervous and it was making him inarticulate.
“You want to see Father Mark?”
He gestured again. “Secure? I look?”
I got it. “Oh, his room. You want to check if it’s secure. I’m sure it is; I wouldn’t worry—” I broke off and bit my lip, remembering those orders Eduardo had given. I do care.
I phoned Eduardo to clear it, but soon we were heading up to the hospital. Lucas walked very fast, head down, and if anyone greeted us he ran away as though expecting an attack and waited for me around the next corner.
“They’re not going to hurt you, Lucas.”
He shook his head and huddled close to the wall until the next group of people had passed. “Look like…people like you. All people.”
“People like me? What do you mean?”
“Would have been these people.” He flapped a hand up the corridor. “Look like them. All them.”
Suddenly I got it. “They look like reAssignees,” I said tonelessly. “Or remind you of who they might’ve been in the future.”
He closed his eyes and went off at a run again, opened them in time to avoid a wall, but only slowed down when we passed a window with a plant in it.
Ah well, good thing the word ‘reAssignees’ hadn’t put him in a worse state. Actually…this was the first unambiguous sign of remorse I’d seen. Well, actually, our “Vote No” campaign was very happily quoting the “anti-Sorting” speech he’d made at his trial, and somehow I’d understood he was sorry, but still…
Snail was on guard outside that room again, when we arrived, only this time he stood looking straight through the window and the curtains were gone.
Reluctantly, I looked through as well. Secure? Father Mark was chained to the flipping bed! Thick padded cuffs circled his wrists and from the attachments on the footboard there were more on his ankles.
“Isn’t that a bit extreme?” I choked.
Snail didn’t answer. Really was in guard mode. Father Mark’s eyes were closed, his dark brown hair damp and sweat-tousled, hard to tell if he was awake. My nastier side was glad he looked such a mess. Seeing him all healthy and well-kempt would be a kick in the teeth when my baby— No, Margo, you cannot think about this. Lock it away!
“Fine,” I told Snail. “Lucas has permission to go in there and have a look, but I expect you know that?” Snail was wearing a wristCell, of course.
Snail nodded, murmured, “Bien sûr, of course, Margo,” then stepped to the door, turned the key in the big new lock that’d been fitted, and opened it.
Lucas looked pretty stressed by now—maybe considering curling up against the nearest wall and pretending he was somewhere else?
“If you were him, Lucas”—I pointed through the window at Father Mark—“how would you escape, hmm?”
His gaze sharpened—reminded why he’d made this foray into the frightening world, he stepped through the door.
He took quite a while. Circling the room, he looked at pretty much everything, checked the windows, even lay on the floor on each side of the bed and gazed around—seeing what Father Mark could see? He examined the cuffs and the chains and the attachments and Father Mark and…well, everything. Father Mark opened his eyes after a while and watched him, but his eyes were so glazed it was clear he wasn’t entirely with it.
Finally Lucas came out again. “With cuffs, good. No cuffs, no good.”
Blast! Now Father Mark really would be stuck with the things. Still…better cuffed to a bed than pumped full of not-so-nonLethal-in-quantity charges.
Why do you even care? whispered that little voice.
Because it wasn’t his fault, I answered firmly, and said out loud, “Thank you.” Lucas’s conclusion might be unwelcome, but he’d made such an effort. From the look in his eyes, the best thanks I could give him would be to get him back to his new plant ASAP. “Shall we go?”
We got into the corridor outside the hospital and—oh no!—there was Kyle, on his way to see how Father Mark was, no doubt. I grabbed Lucas’s arm to stop him bolting—really didn’t want to face Kyle on my own. This morning, I was finding it hard to believe that I’d really knocked on his door like that, last night. Had I forgotten how he’d behaved? Not that I didn’t want to make up…
“How’s Father Mark?” asked Kyle tensely.
“He could be worse, I s’pose.” There was something I really wanted to say to him, in case Father Mark did get loose and polish me off. “I, uh, didn’t actually mean what I said about never wanting to see you ever again, you know.”
“Really,” said Kyle stiffly. He was looking at Lucas with recognition—and dislike. It made me mad again.
“I don’t think you’ve met Lucas properly,” I said coolly. “Lucas, this is my brother—” Oh…with a look of pure anguish, Lucas slipped my grasp and fled. I sighed. “He’s a tad shy.”
“Oh?” said Kyle coldly. “Looked more like a guilty conscience.”
“How very perceptive of you. And why blame him for that? A good thing in the circumstances, isn’t it?”
“I know what that man did to you and you expect to just introduce him to me and have me what, shake hands? Then again, after what you did the other day, why am I surprised?”
“What I did?” I said blankly. He seemed so angry.
“Georg Friedrich! You put the entire vote—all our lives!—on the line for him. For Snakey’s murderer. How could you?”
For a moment I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry,” I said at last, “when I was growing up, I was taught to forgive people, but I must’ve misunderstood. Clearly I was only supposed to forgive the boy in the playground who stole my lollypop, not the man who cut up my face or the man who killed my friend. Must’ve got it all wrong.”
“Oh, don’t give me that!” snapped Kyle. “There’s forgiveness, yeah, and then there’s going right out on a limb unnecessarily because you’ve just got to play the hero and feed your swollen ego! To the blazes with the rest of us, if it had gone wrong! And now Snakey’s killer has as good as gone free! How must his parents feel? Did you think about that?”
I stared at him, speechless. I felt like he’d just cut me open with a scalpel.
Snail appeared beside me, his face hard. “Kyle, turn around and clear off. You’re completely out of order!”
“What, you think she did a good thing?” Kyle practically yelled. “Don’t you care about Snakey?”
“I think what Margo did is a far better memorial to Snakey than what you’re saying you’d have preferred.” His face softened slightly. “Kyle, seriously, what’s up with you?”
“What’s up with me? What’s up with my sister, more like!” Kyle swung around and stormed off.
I stared after him, my insides beginning to shake, my throat to close. No, I mustn’t cry. If I cried it would really upset Lucas. I am actually worried about him. Perhaps I really do forgive him now.
The thought cheered me a little. But another thought came: And the man who killed your baby? Can you forgive him?
“Are you okay, Margo?” asked Snail worriedly. “He was talking nonsense. Totalement! You know that, right?”
Did I? I hadn’t even questioned my impulse to save Friedrich: it had felt so right. Could my motives have been so horribly selfish as Kyle claimed? But I hadn’t wanted to risk everyone. To risk Bane, my baby… I swallowed hard. It would have been so much easier to just let the man go to his fate.
Kyle was talking nonsense. But he’d planted a little seed of doubt in my mind, all the same, like a burr for the devil to torment me with.
28 days
I apologize for my somewhat heated post yesterday. I was having a very bad day and I really did feel many people had totally missed Mrs. N’s point.
Margaret Verrall—blog post, ‘The Impatient Gardener’
“Father Mark?” They’d let me come in to see him today, though I had to stay out of grabbing distance. “Are you awake?” Hopefully not. I’d only come because it would look odd if I didn’t.
His eyes opened slowly, as though it were a great effort to get the lids up. Bother. Act natural, Margo.
“Margaret?” His speech was slightly slurred from the heavy combination of sedative and tranquilizer. The psych-people hadn’t been able to do anything with him yet. The doctors were still trying to adjust the drugs to enable him to communicate with them without his brain trying to cook itself.
“It’s me. How are you?” Why didn’t you try harder to resist the programming? That’s what I wanted to ask. To scream in his face.
He rattled a wrist chain and tried to smile. He looked so groggy and strained. “A little tied up. And very happy to stay that way.”
“They’re going to sort you out, y’know.” I tried to sound confident. I really did hope it was true.
He gave another crooked smile, and I suddenly had the feeling he was trying to make me feel better. “Let’s hope so.” He stared drowsily at the ceiling for a while, and I tried to think of something to say. Something not to do with my baby.
“See you’ve found yourself a protector,” he said at last.
“Huh?”
“That gangly fellow prowling around in here yesterday. That’s Everington, isn’t it?”
“Oh. Yes, that’s Lucas. I think he does worry about me a lot. He got very anxious about this whole thing.”
“I noticed. Had the impression that if he wasn’t satisfied the place could be made secure enough, he’d have just pulled out that knife and dispatched me.”
I gaped at him. “No way! So he’s got a knife again? Doesn’t surprise me; we gave him a kitchenette. But I’m sure he wouldn’t have killed you!” I almost feel like I could, when I think about—
Stop thinking about it! Do you even remember what the word ‘unfair’ means?
“He’s killed before,” murmured Father Mark sleepily. “S’pose you can’t see it ’cause you never have. Never had to, thank God.” He blinked and shook his head slightly, clearly trying to wake up a bit. “I’m just saying…what am I saying?”
“I thought letting him look around would help you!”
“Well, I found it very reassuring.” He meant it, too. “Look, that guy’s not all together at the moment, Margaret. Plain enough to see. Means his inhibitions aren’t as strong, his reasoning may be off. So if someone threatens you when he’s there, just…don’t expect his response to be restrained—or even anywhere within the bounds of appropriate.”
I frowned. “He’s so quiet. Never threatened anyone.” Wasn’t sure Father Mark was wrong, though. Thank goodness Lucas had run off before Kyle really got started, yesterday. “To be honest, he’s improving so fast. Every day he seems better, now. So…I don’t think it’s likely to be a long-term problem.”
“Or he won’t have that insanity defense for much longer! You might want to mention that to him.”