My maroon collar’s giving me a rash. It reminds me that Voss the Boss, that fat cow, can track my movements. I can’t take a walk to clear my head because I know I’ll end up hunting for Morgan until Voss picks us up. And Janine will follow.
Inside our home, ten pairs of eyes follow me. No privacy even when I tuck myself into bed. Sarah snores like a freight train. I leave the lights off, which spooks Janine, so she crawls in next to me. Even though she’s too old for this, I don’t push her away.
I can’t stop thinking of Morgan out there all alone. Is he heading for the Outland, where I can’t go? I’m not sure it isn’t George I really want. Then what? Could I really survive in the wilds of Appalachia? No, I’ve got to make my peace here.
Curled up under my cotton sheet, I face the dark closet. Though I know what I must do, my mind hunts for ways out. It’s only a few months until I graduate, early, since I’m security-tracked. I can’t graduate if they send me away.
I’ve toyed with the idea of starting my own restaurant. I’d offer more variety than Union-approved chains. Trouble is, it’s hard to stand out, what with all the restrictions on food, drink, and decor. Going to Nashville will destroy any chance to get permits or money. I’d be branded an outcast.
I consider throwing myself at Voss’ mercy. I’ll plead for another chance. She’d relish me groveling, and I’d be sincere.
It’s not that simple, though. Talk of Hollander’s Resocialization Facility in Nashville means the governor’s office is involved. Mom’s opposition might be a factor, but my actions have brought this on all of us.
My only option is to grab the commander’s lifeline, even though I know it’s a trap. I try to talk myself into accepting the inevitable.
A mech warrior is the highest aspiration within the security track. If I have to be security, why not the best? It gets me out from under school rules, Surroc, and Voss. I get to stay with Mom and Janine. I won’t have to worry about jobs. Mechs will provide for my family.
I hunger to meet George and visit the Outlands. As a mech, I’d have permission, tools, and protection. I’d get to satisfy my curiosity about guys. Why are they almost irresistible to me? Is it the attraction of the forbidden? Mom’s talks about George? Or am I meant to be around guys? Our Harmony world feels so unnatural.
Adventure calls. I want to escape the cocoon of our protected Union. The Outland offers the experience of another world, untamed and free. Maybe I’ll feel thankful for what I have: public transport, national healthcare, instant communication, support groups, safe diet, and all the things absent in the Outland. Yet the wilds beckon. I can’t tell a soul, one of my few private thoughts kept from the Soc-net police.
Then there’s the national service aspect. Warriors hunt bad guys and rescue girls from the Outlands. They protect our borders from kidnappers and drug dealers. They protect girls like Janine, who warms my back while my mind drifts into one of the commander’s tournament videos.
Hernandez matches me against Dara the Terror. Big as an elephant, she tears into me, yanking my limbs from their sockets. I feel no pain, just humiliation and defeat. I’m a blob on the tournament floor, a mass of torn and bruised flesh. She pounds me like Mama Grace beats bread dough. The stands overflow with girls cheering for Dara. They become her and jump into the ring, taking turns beating me until I’m nothing but a stain on the mat.
Then I find myself in the arena before a brute twice Dara’s size. His biceps are thicker than my waist. Yet, I’m smitten instead of scared, and confused. He rips into me. Pain triggers neurons up my spine and throughout my brain. He takes his time, tears my flesh. What am I thinking, signing up to fight a brute to the death? I lose consciousness.
Next, I’m running in the Outland mountains. Wearing heavy black mech gear, I chase suspects, and catch a boy. My black-shielded partner blasts him to dust. It’s my dad. I’ve killed him by becoming a mech. All he wanted was to be left alone. I turn to see my birth mother in chains. I did this. If not for me, my dad would have left sooner. My birth mother wouldn’t have returned for me and gotten arrested. Instead, she pleads for me not to send her away. The tether between us stretches and snaps. The rebound doubles me over in pain.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t leave.”
Arms wrap around me. Mommy?
“It’s okay, Belle. I’m here,” Janine whispers, her warm breath on my ear.
I hear the freight train across the room. At least I haven’t woken Sarah.
“I’m not going anywhere, Belle. I promise.”
But I am. Covered in sweat, I hold Janine. She doesn’t seem to mind the dampness. Her breath warms my chin. I gaze into her sweet face, though it’s too dark to see, and imagine every freckle, the curve of her big brown eyes, the contours of her sculpted cheeks, her delicate ears. I need her. She replaced another bond severed long ago. I have no choice. No matter what, I’ll take the mechs.
“I’m okay, Babe. Get some sleep.”
Taking comfort from my calm voice, she rolls over.
I love you, Babe. Maybe too much.
* * *
After I drop Janine off at school, and before I deliver Brooks’ car, I check the trunk. It’s still damp. I can’t believe Morgan fit in that tiny space, or that he’s gone. Now that I’ve met him, I wish I’d driven him across the river and spent time to get to know him instead of going to that stupid basketball game. Then Dara wouldn’t have attacked my sister. I wouldn’t have gotten myself arrested with this stupid maroon tracking collar, putting Mom at risk, and having to join the mechs.
After Brooks drops me off at school, old cabbage-face Surroc pulls me from Civics class and hauls me down whitewashed corridors to her office overlooking Michael’s School. I’m too familiar with Surroc’s cozy office, with its soft pastel colors and padded chairs designed to get my guard down. She sits next to me rather than across the desk like Captain Voss.
I keep my face blank, which is easy since I didn’t sleep, and wait for Surroc to speak. She grins like she’s won something, or “passed gas” as she would say. I’m more familiar with her scowls, hand-wringing, and squeezing her tiny brain cells to decide what to do with me.
“I’m not surprised.” Surroc sits like some prim, uptight, frustrated old woman. “You aren’t suited for school, are you?”
You got that right. I hold my stony face and count bicycles outside.
“You won’t be our problem much longer.”
Too bad, being a thorn in your side gives me pleasure.
“Not laughing? I thought you’d be celebrating. You’re done with school. You’re also off the basketball team. We can’t have violence here.”
Oh? What about Dara attacking Janine? Is that okay because Mom’s in the opposition? I hold my face still, hoping my eyes don’t betray me. I’ve had years of practice.
“No surprise or shock?” Surroc seems ecstatic that I’m to be re-socialized.
Do you also know about the commander’s offer?
“You’d best return to class before they send you to my office for being tardy.” She grins.
Wanting to smack her, I hold my composure until I’m out in the hallway. Some people enjoy the unhappiness of others. As a mech, I might have something to say about that.
On the way to class, I use my wrist-com to call Commander Hernandez. Please go to voicemail.
She picks up. “Annabelle, have you considered all the implications of your decision?”
You answer your own phone? You know it’s me? And you know my answer?
“Hello, Annabelle. It’s customary for calls to be dialogue.”
“I’m sorry, Commander.” I take a deep breath and search for other options. “I want to join your mechs.” I can almost see her smile with that scar tugging at her cheek.
“Very well. Be here tomorrow morning at eight sharp. I’ll arrange with your school and Captain Voss, and have transit permits delivered to your house. Welcome on board. You won’t regret it.”
Already do. “Thanks, Commander.” You may get your grubby paws on the body of Annabelle Scott, but you’ll never have the soul of Annabelle Montgomery.
The rest of the morning crawls in a blur as I reconsider my decision. I unearth nothing new.
I watch Janine between classes, surrounded by friends. She’s a better student than me, more obedient. She doesn’t have my baggage. I feel like Eve eating from the Tree of Knowledge, from the banned King James Bible I’ve read in Mom’s private library. Enlightenment brings burdens. Yet Mom had to tell me something to help me cope with this ache in my gut. It didn’t make the pain go away, though our bond helps fill the void.
I leave my last class and savor a moment’s freedom before I grab the first of three buses to the cop station and Voss the Boss. When I step off the curb to run to the bus stop, a little gray bug of a car screeches to a halt before me. I curse until the passenger door opens.
Lieutenant Brooks waves. “Get in.”
I smile. Are you dragging my ass in for another humiliation?
I climb in anyhow. This could be my last day with Brooks. I study the coarse texture of her face for what to expect. The moment I close my door she has the peppy two-seater buzzing a cluster of bicyclists, who are either on shift change or lunch break.
“The captain called all units. You get to see action today.”
I grin. No lecture from Voss. “What’s going on?”
“Protest at the state capitol. Voss didn’t want me to bring you, but I told her you’re trained and I need backup.”
“Thanks.” I think.
We bounce along Kingston Pike, past crowded bus stops. It must be noon shift changes. I’ll miss working with Brooks. She cares and tries to do the right thing, which is rare. I want to be more like her, though not the outcast part.
“What can you tell me about the protest?” I ask as we pass several city-buses and approach downtown.
“Every spring these women protest a war that’s been over for 17 years.”
“Come on, Becky. You don’t expect me to believe that.” I use her first name because we’ve gotten close, and I hope Voss hasn’t poisoned our relationship.
Brooks laughs. “That’s what I like about you. No BS. Okay, these same women brought the war to an end when they protested the slaughter of Outlanders by our mech forces.”
I cringe. My dad was a fatality, though three years later. “Why now?”
“Annual reminder that husbands, brothers and sons disappeared. They demand an accounting.”
I’m surprised to hear Brooks talk this way. “Do you support them?”
Brooks looks offended. “I toe the party line. Have to as a Knoxville cop.”
“But you don’t agree?”
“My dear protégé. You know I can’t answer that. I will miss you. Yeah, Voss told me you’re leaving. Did Sam offer you a slot with the mechs?”
I nod.
“I’d be proud to recommend you. Just don’t lose your sense of self. We have to enforce the laws. We don’t have to agree with them.”
When we approach the cluster of government buildings and rows of parked cop cars, I turn to Brooks. “Becky, I’m glad I got to work with you. I hate that this is coming to an end. Please take Janine under your wing. She has a good heart and follows the rules, but she’s fragile. I worry about her.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Voss may have other ideas.”
On foot, we join other cops who converge on the government complex. Women hold placards: “Stop running our sons out of town. Where are our husbands, brothers, and sons?”
Mechs enter the plaza and turn fire hoses on the women. Glass shatters in a Federal Clothiers storefront. Soaked women sprawl across the sidewalk like so much debris.
While protesters scatter, cops cuff two gray-haired women and a young roly-poly girl. Several pairs of cuffs clang against Lieutenant Scarlatti’s utility belt as she motions for more arrests.
I follow Brooks to a spot where a dozen cops surround two frail women, jostling over who gets to cuff them. About 50 cops surround 12 protesters. Voss the Boss is taking no chances.
With the protest over, Brooks grabs my arm and pulls me away. Scarlatti looks around for something to do, and I’m wearing the bright maroon collar. Don’t you dare electrocute me, you witch. I don’t need my battered brain cells further scrambled.
Brooks has me around the corner and out of sight before Scarlatti can trigger my collar. “Your excitement for the day. What do you think?”
“Those women deserve answers, not what they got.”
“Street protesting by a few accomplishes nothing. That’s why I brought you.”
“And here I thought I was your backup.” I watch two protesters flee.
Brooks takes no action against them. “I know you’re angry and confused. I wanted you to see that it’s self-destructive unless you find the right focus. Don’t waste your talents or passion on lost causes.”
I shrug. “I’m a lost cause, and you waste time on me.”
Brooks laughs as she squeezes into her little car. “If you were a lost cause, I wouldn’t waste time on you. Now don’t disappoint me.”
More pressure. I scrunch in. “Now what?”
“The usual: arrest people outside approved zones, catch boys, and enforce food codes. I like the latter because we get to snack.”
I laugh. “Why haven’t we talked like this before?”
“This may be our last day together. You need to know you’re not alone, and I don’t mean family. Not everyone is out to make your life miserable.”
That gets me longing to find Dorothy Montgomery, my birth mother. The only access point I haven’t tried is in Voss’ office. I have to do something, without getting Brooks into trouble.
Brooks touches her ear and speeds up. “Got an assignment. Abandoned store with activity.”
The piercing siren announces something more intimidating than the pathetic bug bouncing along empty streets.
When the Federal Union banned most cars and expanded bus use, restaurants and stores clustered around bus stops. Those between stops shut down. Now, abandoned buildings dot Kingston Pike.
Brooks pulls up behind a two-story brick building that once housed a specialty grocery. The parking lot sprouts grass. A four-door black cop car pulls up alongside with two cops I don’t recognize. They must be from another precinct.
Using her wrist-com, Brooks coordinates with the other team and hands me a stun-gun. “Watch my back.”
Then she leads us to a side door along a brick and concrete wall. She breaks glass, unlocks the door, and enters. I don’t see anyone outside, though I spot city-cams across the street. I aim my stun-gun behind in case anyone jumps out. I follow Brooks into a store cluttered with debris on the floor and empty shelves. Only a few dusty cans remain, cat food by the look of it.
Brooks finds creaky wooden stairs and climbs to the second story as the other team clears the downstairs. I look behind, watching her back. At the top of the stairs, we turn down a battered plaster hallway past storage rooms to an apartment; probably the store owner’s when the store was open.
Brooks contacts the other team. I hear one of the cops run up the stairs. I check to make sure. A dark-haired Hispanic lieutenant glares at me. I’m not in uniform. She holds out her remote when she notices my maroon collar. I show my badge dangling from my neck and point to Brooks.
My partner knocks at the door. “Police. Open up.”
There’s movement behind the door. The dark-haired cop kicks the door and goes in, followed by Brooks. I scan the dust-filled hallway.
The stench of human filth gags me. I choke it back and enter the room. Six mattresses line one wall. On them lie three boys, couldn’t be more than nine or ten, in dirty rags. Each boy has a collar wrapped in aluminum to mask GPS tracking and prevent us from activating the electric shock.
I touch my collar. I’m like you.
The Hispanic cop grabs an older boy by the window and cuffs him. I strain to see if it’s Morgan. I breathe a sigh. It isn’t. After the dark-haired cop pulls the boy from the window, I look down. The fourth cop cuffs two young boys in the parking lot below.
Not my redhead. Good.
My heart aches that these boys have no other home. If they were girls, we’d send them to foster homes where someone might adopt them as I was. Few neighborhoods accept boys; we’ll send them to boarding schools like Michael’s or worse. I’ve read The Diary of Anne Frank and imagine these boys hiding from a society that doesn’t want them.
Brooks takes my arm and leads me out of the room. She covers my mouth with her hand. “Not a word. Go wait in the car.”
My mind spins. I want to save these boys. I have no business being a cop or a mech. I should have fled with Morgan. Can I still find him?