Текст книги "Inside Out"

Автор книги: Maria V. Snyder

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

18

I THREW A PILLOW AT RILEY FOR HIS AWFUL PUN. HE ducked easily and escorted Anne-Jade from our storeroom. Before he left, he poked his head back into the room and said, “Byaaaaae.”

My aim was off and the next pillow hit the closing door. I debated the merits of standing to retrieve the cushions and decided to stay on the couch and study the list of ten password questions. We had solved the one to gain access to Gateway’s coordinates, and the other referred to the number of teeth on my comb with the pearl handle—which I had counted before losing it when the Pop Cop had attacked me.

Eight questions remained. I puzzled over them, but I couldn’t solve any of them with one answer. Number six was, What do you turn to get the outside in?

The answer could be a doorknob, a handle, a lock or a screw. With no one for me to bounce ideas off of, I wrote down as many possible answers and tried another.

Your eyes can see, but mine don’t work, yet I see what you can’t. What am I? And tried another. After a few hours, my head ached. I abandoned my task and rested. Hour thirty meant Riley had returned to work and it would be a while before my next meal. My empathy for Domotor increased with every passing hour. Those first seventy hours in his hideout had been rough. At least he had a washroom and kitchen. I calculated how long he could survive on the food stocked in his refrigerator. His continued freedom still amazed me.

I tried to sleep, but my empty stomach complained, and Doctor Lamont’s offer of using her shower tempted me. The floor plans of the four levels of Inside matched for the most part. Quad C4 was dedicated to the power plant, and Sectors D4, E4 and F4 contained living areas. The biggest difference between level four and one was the water tanks.

Sectors B4 and H4 housed large water-storage tanks, while on level one those sectors held the laundry and the waste-water treatment plant. The infirmary for the scrubs was in Sector H2 along with the care facility.

I had limited my excursions to the upper levels to avoid being detected, but I remembered seeing the uppers’ infirmary on level three Sector B. To gain access through the air shafts, I would need to climb into the Gap. My tender hip would be a problem.

I still wore the upper’s student jumper. Could I stroll through the upper levels as if I belonged there? More importantly, would I? Anne-Jade had worn Jacy’s listening device in plain sight. Zippy appeared to be a regular cleaning troll. Even the decoder had an ordinary disguise as a timer.

Was a shower worth getting caught? No. But it was worth testing if I could travel through the upper levels without being recognized. A thin rationalization. And the Pop Cops wouldn’t think to look for me up here. Right? Decision made, I searched for a good spot to leave Riley a note, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.

Before leaving the storeroom, I combed my hair with my fingers and let it hang down past my shoulders to cover the earring. I used the water in my glass to wash my face and rinsed the dried blood from my hands. A tool belt around my waist would appear odd to the uppers. Funny how I felt improperly dressed without its comforting weight, but all I had left was the decoder. It fit into a long pocket in the uniform’s pants. Once I tucked the wipe board of password questions inside the top of my jumper, I was, at least physically, ready to go.

I mapped the shortest route from the storeroom to the infirmary in my mind, drew in a steadying breath and left the room. After a quick peek around the optical illusion of the hallway to check for people, I strode with purpose as if I had an important message to deliver.

A few uppers met my gaze and nodded, others ignored me and the three Pop Cops I passed didn’t show any signs they recognized me. With my heart somersaulting in my chest, I arrived at the infirmary. The possibility that Doctor Lamont wouldn’t be there didn’t occur to me until I pushed open the door. The rectangular room duplicated the scrub’s infirmary, containing a row of beds against each long wall, with a narrow path between them. But the privacy curtains hanging from a U-shaped metal track on the ceiling above the beds weren’t included in the scrubs’ room. Two beds were occupied with sleeping patients. A high counter arched from the back right wall next to a wide entrance.

When I was halfway across the room, Doctor Lamont bustled from the entry, carrying a tray. A slight hitch in her step indicated her surprise, but she smiled.

She gestured toward the back room. “I’ll be there in a minute. I need to give Izak his meds.”

I aimed for the door. Shelves filled with medical supplies hid behind the high counter on the right. Through the entrance was an examination room. Stainless-steel instruments glinted in the harsh light. I balked at the threshold. The flat table covered with a black pad, straps and stirrups reminded me of my first medical examination.

Scrubs were required to have a complete physical at fourteen centiweeks. No part of my body had been left un-examined. I shivered at the memory of the cold probes. The Pop Cops claimed the exam ensured the scrub’s heath and ability to perform the job they had been assigned.

I jumped when Doctor Lamont placed her cold hand on my back, guiding me into the room.

“The surgery is over there.” She pointed to a wide door on the right. “And my office is back here.”

We entered a small alcove in the back left corner, which opened into her workplace. A far friendlier place than the last. My gaze was drawn to the oversized quilt hanging on the wall. Small squares of color had been sewn together in a pattern. I squinted and stepped back, trying to discern it.

She noticed my gaze. “It’s a stethoscope.”

The shape of the long tubes and round bottom became clear.

“You’re wondering why a stethoscope.” Her thin eyebrows arched as if inviting me to speculate.

“No. It’s one of the tools of your trade.”

“But why not a thermometer or a scope or a scalpel?”

“It’s your quilt. I think you would know the answer better than me.”

She laughed. “Yes, but I want your opinion.”

I hid my surprise by focusing on the quilt. All the doctor’s instruments were important. Each played a role. A stethoscope listened to a patient’s heart and lungs. I imagined working as a doctor as patient after patient came through the doors. After a while, I thought doctors would view their work as just another job. How would a doctor make a connection with so many different people?

“You picked the stethoscope because hearing a person’s heart beating is a…” I moved my hands as if I could pull the right word from my throat. “Treasured part of being a doctor. No one else can hear it unless they’re really close to the person. By letting you listen to their heart, they’re trusting you.”

She nodded her head as if impressed by my answer.

“Am I right?” I asked.

“There is no right or wrong answer. You could have said it was my favorite instrument, which is also true. One thing I like to do with my stethoscope is listen to Inside’s heartbeat.” Doctor Lamont pulled it from her neck and handed it to me. “Go ahead. Press it to the wall.”

Curious, I placed the ends in my ears. My left lobe throbbed when the instrument brushed the earring. Touching the wall with the round sensor, I braced for an amplified Hum. Instead, a distinct rumble sounded, alternating from louder to softer. A series of knocks also repeated in a steady beat. I returned the device.

“Interesting, isn’t it? Our ears can’t discern all those mechanical noises. To us it’s just the Hum. Unnoticed until we make an effort to hear it. I enjoy listening to the different components of Inside’s heartbeat. It comforts me.” She swept her hand out in a dismissing wave. “Silly, I know.”

“It’s not silly.”

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss my quilt. I’m guessing my offer sounded more inviting with time.”

“Yes.”

“Any trouble on the way over?” she asked.

“None at all.”

A tired sadness filled her olive-colored eyes. “I’m not surprised. People have been afraid to get to know others who are outside their families. The halls are filled with strangers.”

Sounded liked the scrubs. “Why?”

“When noticed by the Travas, the friendship is immediately a cause for suspicion. The Travas view any group of people as potential rebels. Also, people are afraid of being reported. If you don’t have a friendship with another, then when they get mad at you, they can’t call you a scrub-lover and have you arrested.”

I stared at her. If I exchanged Trava for Pop Cop, she could be talking about the lower levels.

She shook her head. “You don’t want to hear about this. Wait here, let me check to make sure my clothes aren’t all over the floor.” The doctor disappeared through another door.

This place reminded me of a maze. I glanced around the rest of the room. Her computer occupied the middle of her neat desk, and two big armchairs faced it. A basket of toys sat on the floor. I knelt next to it and rooted through the meager contents. When disappointment stabbed, I realized I had been searching for Dada Sheepy.

“For my younger patients,” she said behind me. “The shower is clean, but I want a peek at your incision before your stitches get wet.”

She led me to her suite. Bigger than Riley’s, it had two bedrooms, a sitting room, a small kitchen and a washroom. I peeled the uniform down and showed her the cut. In the brutal glare of the daylights, the bruises appeared purple, and black thread held together a swollen and angry red line. I swayed and rested against the wall.

“Healing nicely despite your adventures.”

I gave her a dubious look.

“Trust the doctor.” She sniffed and eyed my uniform. “Shower. I’ll bring you a bowl of hot soup and a change of clothes.”

I removed all the devices and decoder and hid them under a towel. The warm water felt wonderful despite the sting of the soap. When I finished, a steaming cup and a clean jumper waited for me as promised. I could get used to this attention.

Perhaps I could let Trella die in the air shafts so Ella could remain here.

“Better?” Doctor Lamont asked.

“Much.”

“Your room’s on the right. Get some sleep.”

My room, I repeated in my mind. My room. With a narrow bed and single table with lamp, it wasn’t elaborate or even special. But it was a rich luxury compared to sleeping in the barracks. The mattress springs creaked when I sat on the bed. Fun. I bounced, enjoying the feel. The bunks in the lower levels were cushioned with thin mats. Not that it mattered to me, I could sleep in an air shaft. But this was the first time I felt a real difference between the uppers and lowers.

If my parents hadn’t abandoned me, would I be living in a similar room? Would I be happy? I imagined my life before the whole mess with Domotor. Would I trade that life for this? Yes. But trade my life now? No way.

As I stretched out on the bed, I worried I would be spoiled and unable to sleep in the vents after spending time here. For once, I decided to enjoy the moment.

Riley’s insistent voice roused me from a dreamless slumber.

“…need to speak with her.”

I stepped from the room feeling stronger and followed the voices to the doctor’s office. Riley sat on the edge of one of the armchairs, leaning forward as if ready to launch himself across the desk. He sprang to his feet as soon as he spotted me in the doorway.

“You are better. When I saw your note…” Riley glanced at the doctor.

“He thought your condition had worsened and you sought medical help.” A glint shone in her eyes. “He didn’t believe me.”

“Do you know how long it took her to trust me?” he asked the doctor. “I couldn’t imagine Ella risking so much for a shower.”

He had a point. Normally, I would be very suspicious of the doctor’s motives. But my regular instincts no longer felt right. All I thought I knew had been wrong.

“Not just a shower,” Doctor Lamont said, “but a bowl of my famous soup. And I’m sure she’s ready for another serving.” She winked at me as she left the room.

An awkward silence descended.

“I’m sorry you worried,” I said.

He smiled. “It’s not all bad. At least now I know to offer you a shower and soup if I need you to trust me again.”

With the tension broken, I settled into the other armchair. “You were talking about others when I first came in. Do you have any news?”

“They’re being difficult. The near miss before has convinced most of them it won’t work, but they’re willing to at least listen to you.” He paused in thought. “If the doctor is agreeable, I can have the others come to the infirmary at different times, complaining of a headache or something. You can talk to them here. It wouldn’t draw as much suspicion and we can still keep our room a secret.”

His plan made sense.

“And it avoids having the group members find out about each other, making it safer,” Riley added.

Domotor had done the same thing, yet four people had been recycled. Keeping the others ignorant sounded logical, and my initial reaction was to agree. But the notion clanged. The atmosphere of the upper levels mirrored what the Pop Cops tried to do to the lower levels. Keep to yourself. Trust no one. Report your fellow to gain favor. I fell for it. From my ease in traveling in plain sight, I knew the uppers had fallen for it, too.

And so had the scrubs. Before.

Before what?

My thoughts raced over the last four weeks. They had kept my secret despite enticements and threats from Lieutenant Commander Karla. The kitchen scrubs worked together to stow the food for Domotor in the air shaft. Jacy and his buddies. Logan and Anne-Jade. They never would have risked themselves before.

Before…Broken Man and the promise of Gateway. He gave them a reason to join together and risk themselves for another.

“No,” I said. “It will fail.”

“What do you mean?” Riley asked.

The doctor came in carrying a bowl of soup, but I had her full attention. I wondered how much she had heard or what she suspected.

I answered his question regardless of the doctor. “Keeping everyone separate won’t work. They all need to know who is in the group. They need to talk and make a connection.” I looked at the doctor. “Hear each other’s heartbeat, and know they’re all risking themselves for the same reason. It’s too easy to report a name. Or to give up when you don’t know who you’re letting down.” I glanced between Riley and Doctor Lamont, willing them to understand.

“She’s right,” the doctor said. “If you don’t hear a heartbeat, it’s easy to send the body to be recycled.”

“Full disclosure?” I could see Riley struggling with my complete reversal.

“Yes. And we can start with the doctor.” I turned to her. “You saved my life and performed surgery in a storeroom because Riley asked you to. Why?”

Taken aback, she frowned. “He’s the son of a friend.”

“You know him.”

“Right.” She relaxed a bit.

“But you don’t know me. You suspect I’m the missing scrub, so why not report me?”

“Again, for Riley.”

“But you offered me a shower and a bed.”

“Don’t forget the soup,” Riley said.

I shot him a look.

“What? I’m trying to help.” He feigned innocence.

“Yes, and soup. Why?” I asked her.

“Curiosity mostly. Your strength is remarkable. The fact that you’re up here instead of at the wrong end of a kill-zapper is impressive. I want to know why you’re here. And, I wanted to get to know the person Riley would risk his life for.”

“You wanted to hear my heartbeat?”

She smiled. “You’re going to overuse that analogy, aren’t you?”

“It works, though.”

“Yes, it does and, yes, you’re right.”

I drew in a breath. “If I ask you for more help, would you be willing?”

She considered. “It depends on what you need.”

“We need a meeting place and we think the infirmary would be ideal.”

The doctor stiffened as a guarded expression blanketed her face. “What for?”

Time to slide down the chute. The scrubs needed Broken Man to rally around, and in order to be successful, the uppers would need someone, too.

Locking gazes with her, I said, “So we can coordinate our efforts in opening Gateway.”

She gasped as all color flew from her face.

Riley elbowed me. “The whole heartbeat thing—does it work in reverse? ’Cause I think the doctor’s heart has stopped.”

“You…found it?” The doctor gripped the edge of her desk.

“I know where it is, but opening it is going to be difficult, hence the need for help. Are you willing?”

“Of course,” she said without hesitating.

A meeting time was set and Riley planned to contact the uppers with the details. Before he left the infirmary, he gave me a narrow metal box as long as my hand. The number ninety-eight was on the digital readout.

“So you can listen to the bug in Karla’s office,” he explained. Then he paused as if struck by a notion. “It works the same as the receiver Anne-Jade made. With the batteries, that’s the smallest space I could cram everything in.” He touched the earring. “That’s some serious tech. We have nothing like that up here. The Travas don’t encourage invention.”

“Then we have an advantage.” I hoped it would be enough.

I kept Riley’s device close by, but no sound emanated. Karla must be off-shift or elsewhere. I also worried because I hadn’t heard from Jacy in a while. Feeling stronger, I paced around the infirmary.

Finally, Doctor Lamont said, “If you’re going to be in the way, you might as well help me.” She showed me the supply cabinet behind the high counter, and asked me to organize the contents. “In an emergency, it saves precious time.”

The shelves bulged with various sizes of bandages, packages of sutures, tape, splints and packs of gauze all heaped together. As I worked to put order to chaos, uppers stopped in, seeking medical treatment or advice. Most ignored me. But on occasion, Doctor Lamont would ask me to help with a patient. If they asked, she introduced me as her new intern, Ella.

At one point, Lamont placed a bin full of clean bandages next to me. “Can you roll those when you have time?”

“Sure. With such exciting tasks as these, I’m surprised you don’t have a ton of students volunteering to be your intern,” I teased.

“Watch it or I’ll have you scrubbing bedpans.”

“Rolling bandages right now, Doctor.” I saluted her, and exaggerated my enthusiasm for the task.

She laughed. I liked the sound of her laughter. Light and carefree and warm. She wasn’t quick to laugh; grief clung to her skin like perfume but hadn’t doused her empathy for others.

Around hour forty-five, my energy level dropped. A nap was more appealing than the last three shelves. I sat on the floor, resting my back when a shrill voice broke through my drowsiness.

“Doctor?” A woman’s panicked voice.

I stood as Lamont rushed past. A very pregnant woman clung to the door. Her face ashen, she swayed on swollen feet. Bright blood stained her pants.

“My water broke,” she said.

Lamont held her elbow and half carried her. I rushed to support the patient’s other side.

“It’s not supposed to be red, is it?” she asked.

“Where’s your mate?” the doctor asked.

“Won’t come. Too hard.” The woman slurred her words.

We reached the exam room.

“Surgery?” I asked.

“Not yet. I need to determine what’s the matter.”

Hoisting her onto the table, I grunted with pain, but soon forgot about my injury as the woman’s condition worsened.

Lamont shouted orders to me and the patient. I fetched bandages and sterilized instruments.

The woman groaned and shuddered. “The baby wants to come out.”

“Not yet. Hold on a little longer.”

Doctor Lamont examined the patient and I held her hand. She squeezed my knuckles so hard, I thought she would crack my bones. The hand-crushing grip came every minute and was accompanied by moans from the woman.

“Contractions,” the doctor said. “Flip that switch there.” She pointed to a wall and I extracted my hand long enough to comply.

“Surgery now.” Lamont pressed a pedal and the table sprouted wheels.

We rolled it into the surgery.

“Don’t you need more help?” I asked.

“Called with the switch. He should be here soon.” She launched into a flurry of instructions, leaving me no time to think.

The events blurred together. Another upper arrived and I had two people yelling orders at me. The woman’s cries mixed with the loud bawl of a newborn. And somehow I ended up out in the exam room, holding a swaddled infant while the doctors attended to the woman in the surgery.

If Cog could see me now, he would be incapacitated with mirth. At least, the baby was asleep. Although I marveled that she could sleep after what had happened to get her out. The doctor had said the placenta blocked the birth canal and the woman needed an emergency C-section.

The baby weighed the same as Zippy, my small cleaning troll. More than I expected. I peered at her tiny face and wondered what name the woman would give her. Naming a person seemed a huge responsibility. In the lower levels, the scrubs handed their babies over and the Care Mothers assigned them names.

The male doctor bustled from surgery, peeling off bloody gloves. “She’ll be fine. Thanks for your help.” He came over and examined the baby. “The mother doesn’t want to see her.” He took a small bottle from his breast pocket. Unscrewing the strange rubber-topped lid, he withdrew a thin glass tube. “Hold her still,” he instructed as he opened one of the baby’s blue eyes. He squeezed the rubber and a drop of liquid splashed into her eye.

She startled and blinked. The doctor quickly doused her other eye, and retuned the bottle to his pocket. He held out his hands. “I’ll take her now.”

As he settled her in the crook of his arm, she opened both eyes wide and gazed at me with brown eyes. I almost stumbled. He had changed her eye color! Is that what Domotor meant when he had said I had been born with my father’s blue eyes?

Doctor Lamont wheeled the woman from surgery, and I helped transfer the patient from the table to a bed. The woman cried in silence. Tears flowed down her temples and her mouth gathered into a tight grimace.

Lamont stroked the woman’s head and squeezed her hand. “It’ll be all right. The baby’s healthy. She’ll do fine.”

Nothing the doctor said eased the woman’s misery. When we returned to Lamont’s office, she collapsed in a chair behind her desk and opened a drawer. Taking out a small glass and a bottle filled with an amber-colored liquid, she poured herself a drink. She considered, then reached for another glass and poured another albeit smaller portion.

“Sit down, Ella. Your performance in surgery was exemplary.” She pushed the second glass toward me as I settled in the opposite chair. “Most people would faint on seeing so much blood, and to see the inside of a person’s body.”

I sniffed the contents of the glass. The fumes stung my eyes. “I tried not to think about what it meant. Just followed orders.”

The doctor sipped her drink. I copied her, and almost spat the burning liquid out. She chuckled. “Haven’t had spirits before?”

“No. My friend did once, but he wouldn’t let me try it.” Good thing, too, or I would have yelled and brought unwelcome attention.

“It’s an acquired taste. The burn down your throat and the numbing warmth in your stomach become a pleasant experience.”

Knowing what to expect, I swallowed the second sip without choking. The doctor rested her head on the back of the chair, closing her eyes.

“I do have a question,” I ventured.

Without opening her eyes, she raised her glass in a swirl. “Go ahead.”

“Why is the woman so upset?”

Her eyes snapped open and she fixed me with an incredulous expression. “You don’t know?” Seeing my evident confusion, she straightened. “Aren’t the women in the lower levels upset when they give their babies away?”

“Some are, I guess. But this is the upper level. You have families.”

Understanding smoothed her sharp features before lines of grief deepened. “Yes, we have families, but, up here the rule is one couple, one child. We don’t have enough room for more people, so if a couple has an accident and conceives another child, the child is sent to the lower levels.”

The unexpected information slogged through my brain. Had she just said the child was sent to be a scrub?

The doctor continued, “The woman is upset because the baby is her second, and the infant will be sent to a care facility in the lower levels.”