Текст книги "The System"

Автор книги: Shelbi Wescott

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

CHAPTER SIX

Water poured out of her in a rush. She vomited pure liquid and it escaped her involuntarily and seeped out onto the tiled floor, pooling beneath her already wet clothes. Her lungs seared with sharp, shooting pain and her throat burned as the water fled from her. No matter what, she couldn’t stop herself from coughing and choking. Snot streamed down her nose and her wet hair lay in a tangled mass.

She was on her side; her shoulder bone rested on a groove, she tried to shift away, but everything hurt.

“We have to get her to the medic pod.”

“Gordy…” Blair’s voice was whiny and afraid.

The young man spun, one hand still resting on Lucy’s back. “That entitled whimpering might work with dad, but not with me. Are you out of your small, ridiculous, mind?”

“Don’t lecture me. Not now. You don’t think I know how bad this is?”

“Call the hospital on Floor F. Get the medic pod to get a room for her. Do it now.” He pointed at the door, but Blair didn’t move. He muttered imbecile underneath his breath.

“What about the boy, Gordy? He’s a survivor.” She spat the word like it was poison.

“Leave the boy. He’s not our concern right now.

“Grant—” Lucy said, and then she coughed, more water dribbling down her chin and to the floor; she thought she tasted something metallic and rusty. She thought of Grant and then to the pain in her chest and then back to Grant. She felt panic, like bile, gurgling up her throat.

“He’s fine. Just sitting in the tank,” the man named Gordy answered Lucy, but he didn’t even glance down at her. His hand on her shoulder felt mechanical, rigid. He had saved her, this Lucy knew. His face was the face she saw first when she was pulled from the abyss, and she focused in on his crystal blue eyes, the stubble on his chin. She had been in a place of peace, a place absent of pain, and then she felt drawn back—there was the sensation of touch: wetness, roughness, sharpness. Then she saw Gordy’s face and had the uncontrollable urge to vomit.

Whatever peace found her in those moments in the tank were gone. For a second, she wished he had just let her die.

She went to wipe her mouth, but her hand felt weighted down to the floor.

Lucy coughed again. And again.

“Get her up,” Gordy commanded.

“Get the guards to do it. They can say they found her.”

“You think they’re going to take the blame for this?”

Blair was quiet.

“Gordy, please—” she whispered. “Dad—”

“You better hope the girl lives. If she dies, Dad will never forgive you. Breaking the rules is one thing, but murder Blair. Murder?”

Blair scowled and climbed off the ground of the tank. “That’s rich, Gordy. That’s hilarious,” she seethed and pointed at him. “Maybe Dad will only love me if I murder seven billion people. God forbid I tank one person.”

Gordy shot up off the ground and walked right up to his sister; he leaned down over her and backed her up against a wall. His movement was quick, deliberate, and Blair didn’t have time to maneuver away from him. She cowered as he pressed his hand against her shoulder. “Don’t you ever say anything like that ever again or I will tank you. The Kings are members. And you know that it’s different. You know it, Blair. Call the medics.”

“Even you didn’t think they should be allowed to stay,” Blair challenged in a small voice. “Don’t get all high and mighty now…you wanted them dead once. You didn’t trust Scott. Remember that O-Mighty-One?”

Gordy gave Blair’s shoulder a second push into the cement wall and then walked away from her, leaving Blair to rub her shoulder. Her chin quivered.

Lucy coughed and coughed; she gasped for breath. She wanted to shout at them to shut up; she wanted to tell them she was in pain.

“It’s done. The decision was made long before and it’s done. Call the medics, Blair. Or I’ll have the guards tank you and bury you in the Sand Hills.”

“Gordy—”

“Call the Goddamn medics!”

Blair bristled and huffed, and then sauntered out with her fear disguised with defiance. But Gordy—who was her father’s age, somewhere in his early forties, maybe younger, but not by much—now leaned over her, his eyes narrowed, his face still. He opened his mouth to address her and then shook his head, thinking better of it.

“I’m sorry,” was what he finally said and Lucy looked at him.

“Where am I?” she asked. It hurt to speak. She coughed and leaned over the tile flooring.

“There are many ways to answer that—”

“I want to see Grant,” she demanded, pushing the words out through the ache.

“It’s difficult to explain, but Grant is not a member. It’s not as simple as just letting him out of the tank. He has no family here.”

Lucy shook her head. “He’s my family. A brother.”

Gordy smiled, not unkindly. He exhaled out his nose and patted her on the shoulder. “That’s a sweet sentiment and I’m sure it’s served you well these past weeks. But the System doesn’t work like that.”

“What system?”

“The System. This place. Where you are now…”

“My family?”

“Is here.”

“I need to see them—” Lucy started to push herself up from the floor, her knees wobbled underneath and her hands slipped against the wet tile.

“Easy, easy,” Gordy hummed and kept his hand trained on her.

“Take me to them now,” she demanded and as her tone challenged him, she couldn’t help but feel like Gordy was amused by her; it was like she was a four-year-old demanding an extra cookie and he was entertained by the suggestion.

“Lucy King, you are like your mother, aren’t you?” Gordy laughed at this. His own private joke.

The mention of her mother sent an icy trickle down Lucy’s spine. “I need her. Is she here? Please,” Lucy begged, attempting a different tactic.

“In time. There are protocols. They will be alerted of your arrival soon…there are things that need to happen first.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head, and hot tears stung her cheeks. “That’s not fair.”

Gordy didn’t answer. He merely looked at her, his eyebrows raised, expecting her to see the error in her logic so he didn’t have to state the obvious.

They were both saved when two men and a woman, in blue jeans, t-shirts and lab coats, entered the side room and waltzed through the door into the tank, eyeing Lucy with confusion and clinical concern.

One of the men knelt down to get a closer look. His eyes were kind and comforting, and Lucy felt her tension melt away—she hadn’t realized how tense Gordy and Blair had made her feel until the others arrived. For the first time since they set foot in Brixton, Lucy felt like someone might take care of her—someone might show her kindness.

“How much water did she intake?” the man asked Gordy, but he kept his eyes on Lucy.

“I can’t guess that…she puked up like a liter? She wasn’t breathing. But we got to her fast. I got to her fast, I should say.”

“We’ll get her up to the medic pod to observe her,” a second man answered.

“Is her questioning over? Why the change of heart?” the woman asked. She was chewing on a piece of bubble gum and it snapped loudly, echoing inside the tank.

Gordy laughed. “Oh, so my sister failed to communicate the most important piece of this whole mess.” He paused for dramatic effect and pointed a deliberate finger at Lucy’s soaked and disheveled state. “This is Lucy King.” He waited again and then added, “Scott’s daughter.”

The woman gasped and brought her hand up over her mouth. “No,” she said between her fingers.

“Damn,” the second man whistled and he shook his head.

The man crouched down by Lucy grimaced and then stood. “Does Scott know?”

“Not yet,” Gordy answered. “I want her examined first…make sure she’s out of the woods before we give him hope.”

Lucy coughed and looked at him. “Out of the woods?”

The first paramedic looked at her. “Your lungs might still have water in them. There’s still a risk of asphyxiation. Keeping you for observation is just precautionary. We’re all experts here. We’ll take good care of you. You’ll be reunited with your family soon, I promise.”

“Grant,” Lucy said again. She tried to sound forceful, commanding. “I want to see my friend.”

The medic looked to Gordy and Gordy shook his head. The look could have meant anything, but the coldness in Gordy’s eyes as he denied her request without saying a word, made Lucy’s skin crawl.

“He’s part of my family,” Lucy lied. “My dad will want to see him…”

“He’s gone,” Gordy said and he shot her a calm look, his eyes on fire.

“You just said he was fine,” Lucy raised her voice and inside the tank the noise amplified, the medic closest to her cringed. “Take me to him!”

“She’s delusional. Sedate her,” Gordy instructed to the man by her side. Lucy shook her head and tried to scoot away.

“Is that necessary?” the man asked, but he seemed to regret the challenge the moment it left his lips. “Whatever you say, boss.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a capped needle; he uncapped it in a swift move, the plastic skittering across the floor and before Lucy could scamper away, he held her by the upper arm and stabbed the needle into the fleshiness of her bicep. “Just a prick. Easy now.”

Lucy felt instantly sleepy and her body swayed and dipped.

“Mom. Grant,” Lucy called. Her voice sounded hollow, like a rattle in her brain. She tried to form more words of protest, but they disappeared into the void. “Mom—” she said again, imagining her mother’s face swimming in front her before she gave in to the darkness.

Her head pounded with a pulsating headache that radiated behind her left eye. She tried to bring her hand up to rub her eye socket and put pressure on the pain, but her hands were held into place with metal rings—she tugged and pulled, but her body was trapped against the cool hospital bed. Then her eyes caught sight of the man beside her bed; he was watching her with a plastered-on grin, his cool blue eyes—the same shade as Gordy and Blair’s—followed her movements with calculating fascination.

“Hello,” he said in a booming, cheerful-infused, voice. “You’re awake. Good, good.”

“Unlock me,” Lucy said and she cringed. Her throat still ached, her chest still pounded with the desire to cough. Her words eked out in barely a squeak.

“Let’s keep your feet locked in, shall we? But don’t you worry, little one, you won’t be here long. I’ve been given positive information about your recovery.” As he spoke, he pulled out keys from his pocket and drew the sheet back around the first cuff and then the second, popping her wrists free of the confines. “There you are. Better?”

Lucy nodded, annoyed that her ankles kept hitting the metal rings—a reminder that, once again, she was someone’s prisoner. Her breath caught and she felt her heart pound; she grew light-headed.

“Who are you?” Lucy asked, closing her eyes to control her symptoms. “Gordy and Blair’s dad? You look like you could be their grandfather.”

The man laughed, raising his chin to the ceiling and slapping his hand against his knee. “You’re a quick one. Funny too.” He pointed at her. “Of course you are. The Kings. Salt of the earth. Yes, I’m mighty glad to hear you arrived here safe and sound. You should know that your parents were out of their minds with worry.”

“Where are they?”

“I know you’re eager to see them.”

“They don’t know I’m here yet, do they?” Lucy placed her hands over her eyes and she prayed for a reprieve from the growing ache.

“No,” the man said and he frowned. “Some rules were broken, you see. Big rules. Before I invite your parents to see you again, well, we need to chat. I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but there are rules.”

“What’s your name?” Lucy continued to press her eyes closed.

“I’m Huck Truman. You’re in my shelter.  My dome, I’ve liked to call it. Now we just say that it’s the System. ”

“A system?”

“The System,” he corrected. “But it’s only temporary. I have no desire to keep everyone living underground…seems like such a dreadful way to spend my twilight years. I like sun and air and green just as much as the next person.”

“What is this place then? Like a giant doomsday shelter?”

“Yes,” Huck nodded and he chuckled again. “That is exactly what it is. A giant shelter…totally self-sustainable, if needed, for over a decade. But we won’t need it that long…months, a year maybe, at most.”

Lucy didn’t speak. She opened her eyes and looked at him and he glowed as he mentioned the intricacies of her new home, as he said. A small indoor park with faux-sun; a movie theater; a restaurant. Lucy’s headache clouded her ability to process the details; what exactly had she stumbled upon in the middle of Nebraska?

“Like a resort,” he said. “It isn’t fair to take people away from the only world they’ve known and then isolate them in darkness, without the comforts of life. That was my vision, you see. My greatest accomplishment to date is the System. And I know that you will come to understand our cause in time; I recognize that this may seem new to you. But the one thing I knew, when I set out to change the world, was that the people we chose to survive would never want for the basics and would always have access to luxuries. You’ll find everything you want here, Lucy. And if we have forgotten something, then you have a direct line.” He pointed to himself with a wink.

“I want to see my family,” Lucy said again. She felt like a broken-record. She resisted the urge to reach out and grab Huck’s white hair and pull it off his head. Her desire to do physical damage to something was gaining by the second and he was the only thing within reach.

“Let me tell you a story,” Huck shifted in the plastic seat by her bed and grimaced as he adjusted his legs and leaned back, exhaling.

“Does the story end with you taking me to my family?” Lucy asked and she lifted her hips off of the bed and adjusted her upper body hoping to find comfort.

“Oh, little Lucy,” Huck’s eyes glistened and he reached out to her and patted her hand. His hands were frigid on top of hers and she instinctually yanked her own hand back. “You remind me of my daughter.”

Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “The girl who tried to kill me? I don’t mean to be a pain…but no. I can already tell you that we don’t have anything in common.”

“No, no,” Huck shook his head and crossed his arms over his body. “I had another daughter. She has since passed on.”

Lucy resisted the urge to say she was sorry. She was not unaware that somehow this man was responsible, in some capacity, for the annihilation of the human race. His own loss seemed insignificant and Lucy closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see his hurt radiating back out at her, pulling at her sympathies, begging her to just see him as an elderly man with a dead daughter, and not a monster.

She was desperate for her father.

Her questions were mounting.

Huck continued without her response. “She was your age. Just turned eighteen.”

Clamping her mouth shut, Lucy bit her cheeks, and focused on her pain. She did not want to listen to his story, did not want to give him an audience for his blatant pandering.

“There are so many tragic ways to die. That is what the world taught me. It is an important lesson that caused me much pain. The tragic ways in which we can lose a loved one…”

Lucy sighed. She turned to Huck just as he wiped away a single tear. She shut her eyes again. “You mean,” she started, feeling her heart skip as she mounted her attack, “like a fast-moving virus?”

“Exactly like that, yes,” Huck replied without missing a beat. Then he leaned down to her, and put a single hand on the bed to steady himself. “I accept your confusion. But I’m here to tell you that your arrival here is very important.”

“Please…” Lucy didn’t want to ask again.

“Your parents thought you might have died,” Huck told her. “Of course, they assumed you would come. It hasn’t been long…they don’t know what it’s like to give up hope.” For the first time in their talk, Lucy felt ill-at-ease; the resentment leaked through his avuncular exterior. “But here you are. Hope is rewarded. They will be thrilled. Thrilled.” She detected the hint of disdain. “The rest of my dome? With the people I think of as my family? Not so thrilled, perhaps. We shall see, we shall see. It’s very complicated, Lucy. Very complicated indeed.”

He pulled back and dug into his pocket again.

“Here,” he said and he extended his hand. Lucy clenched her hands into fists. So, Huck dropped a small trinket to the side of her bed. She looked sidelong at it and could tell from the coil shape, the glint of a jewel, that he had given her a necklace. “It belonged to my daughter.”

“I don’t want it,” Lucy said quickly.

“Of course,” Huck replied and he nodded. “You think I’m evil and horrible.”

“I just want to see my family,” Lucy bit back the tears, angry at herself for cracking and showing him just how badly she wanted to see her family.

“I want that too, darling.” He pushed the necklace forward. “My daughter tried to drown you in the tanks after disobeying the System’s rules of not going outside without an express order from the Elektos cabinet members. To jog. She disobeyed our community’s rules because she thought she was above the rules and she wanted to run, with her dog, in the sunlight. A petty and stupid reason. But yet…she feared me so much…that she was willing to sacrifice you.”

“Okay,” Lucy said. “I don’t care what you tell me; I don’t care what lies you tell me. You can’t keep me here.”

“I’m many things,” Huck continued, his voice deepening. “But I’m not dishonest. Ask me anything. Go on.”

Lucy scowled. She stuck her lip out and frowned with petulant frustration. “Fine,” she finally answered. “Why won’t you let me see my family?”

Huck cleared his throat. “I need to decide the consequence for Blair before I can tell your father that she tried to kill you. It’s unfair to ask you to lie for her. It is my own dilemma. My own burden to bear. But the System has rules and, unfortunately, my dear daughter won’t fare well once the details of her actions come to light. I’m afraid, to put it bluntly. Afraid for her well-being.”

“My father will forgive her…because I’m alive,” Lucy said. She knew this to be true. Her father was many things, but the one quality she simultaneously loved and hated was his capacity to forgive. When it came to forgiving his own children, Lucy thought this was an amazing trait. When it came to forgiving the people who trespassed against his family, Lucy found his agreeable attitude alarming.

“I’m sure that is true,” Huck said. “But I’m not sure I can forgive her, you see. Maybe if she thought that you were an outsider, I could understand, but you and I both know that she knew you were Lucy King and still left you to die. Right?”

Lucy shrugged. Maybe he was fishing. Her lungs still hurt, and she felt none of her father’s carte blanche blanket of absolution; no, she wanted Blair to pay. But more than that, she didn’t want to give Huck anything—not an iota of information.

Honesty was one-way. Reciprocating only gave him back the power.

“No,” Lucy then answered.

“No?” Huck asked, his eyes wide. “She was merely protecting the System and not killing one of my best cabinet member’s daughters?”

Lucy didn’t answer; she searched his eyes, and remained silent.

“The rooms are wired, Lucy,” Huck said with a sad smile, after a beat. “I’ve seen the tape.”

Lucy blushed. Immediately caught. She felt hot tears sting her eyes.

“I understand you want to protect her…to speed up the reunion?” he said, his tone asking a question, but his words offering her the way out. She hated to take it and give him the satisfaction of orchestrating the situation, but she felt trapped.

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Then maybe Blair didn’t know you were Lucy King.”

“Maybe.”

He pointed to the necklace on the bed. “My oldest daughter loved this necklace. I gave it to her on her thirteenth birthday. She was a little superstitious…I gave her the gift and said that thirteen was a beautiful number, nothing to be afraid of. She wore it and said it made her feel brave. Do you believe that an object can do that?”

“What?” Lucy asked him. “Make someone feel brave?”

“Yes. She believed it had power. And so I believe it does.”

“Why are you showing it to me?” Lucy looked at it directly for the first time. It was an aquamarine gemstone suspended inside a twisted ball of metal and wires and then attached to a long silver chain.

“It’s an apology. For everything I’m responsible for…and I realize the list is long. I’m sorry, I am. And I hope you can trust me because we’ll be asking a lot from you Lucy King and I need you to be brave.”

It was a beautiful and unique necklace; the kind of jewelry she would want to buy, but couldn’t. But Lucy already had a necklace around her neck that belonged to a dead girl and that necklace, more than this one, would remind her of all that she had faced on the outside. Huck Truman’s dead daughter’s necklace was an unworthy token compared to Salem’s crucifix and she wished she could tell him that.

“I’m already brave,” Lucy said and she turned her head away from him.

Huck laughed. “You are indeed, Lucy. You are indeed.” Then with a sigh, he stood. There was the sound of the door sliding open and then sliding closed, and the female medic from the tank room appeared to the side of the curtain surrounding Lucy’s bed. She motioned for Huck to come closer and then she whispered something in his ear; she made quick eye contact with Lucy before casting her eyes to the floor.

“I’m quite sorry to hear that,” Huck said and then he added. “The Kings can be notified that Lucy’s in the medic pod now. I’ll accompany you, if that’s okay.”

The medic nodded. “I’ll wait outside,” she said and then slipped back out the way she came in.

“Well, Lucy, I’m so terribly sorry to end our talk on such a horrible piece of news…” he cleared his throat and Lucy felt her body turn cold. Somehow she knew what he was going to say; she sat herself up on her elbows and shook her head.

“No,” she said. “No bad news. No. Don’t tell me anything.”

“I’m afraid,” Huck continued speaking over her pleas, “that the friend you arrived with—”

Lucy shook her head back and forth, her damp hair flying, and she couldn’t stop the tears. More than sadness, rage built up inside of her. Big blocks of fury set the foundation for all her other emotions; she teetered upon them and stared into an abyss. “No! Shut up. Shut up.”

Huck looked as if he had been slapped. His hurt was evident and made Lucy even angrier. “I do hate to be the bearer of bad news…but it appears your friend took his own life.”

The words hit her ears and she froze. With her chest heaving, her heart pounding, she stopped and stared at him, unblinking. No. That was wrong. That was a lie. Honest Huck. Full of lies. No. There was no way.

“They found him hanged in the tank a few moments ago.”

“No,” Lucy said with confidence, all the fight and fire leaving her body. She sat deflated and confused. “How? With what? On what?” She lobbed each question at him with a measured level of disbelief and self-assuredness. “And…he wouldn’t have,” she added in a whisper.

“It’s so terribly sad,” Huck said again. “To have survived it all…and then end it here.”

“You’re lying. Grant would never…”

“Your family will be here soon,” Huck interrupted, his voice carrying over hers. “What’s done is done. What’s gone is gone. The System is about new beginnings. So, I highly encourage you to focus on happy reunions now, shall we?” He sounded chipper once again. Lucy blanched at his nonchalance.

“Where is he? I want to see him! You say he’s dead? Prove it. You can’t. You won’t. You’re a liar. A liar,” she hissed.

“Lucy—” Huck said her name in a patronizing tone, chastising her inability to blindly accept the facts as he told them.

“You said you’d be honest, but then you lie to my face. I won’t ever believe you! I won’t ever believe you!” Lucy yelled at Huck. She picked up his dead daughter’s necklace and threw it at him; he didn’t move as the chain spun through the air and landed short, sliding across the tile toward his feet.

He looked injured. Surprised. He frowned and shook his head.

“You’re right,” he said to her. He looked straight at her, his eyes flashing. “Lying never does me any good. So, I will tell you…he didn’t commit suicide.”

Lucy held her breath and clenched her fists. Her fingernails created little crescent-moons dotted against her flesh.

“And he’s not dead…yet…” Huck added the last word slowly. “But you won’t ever see your friend again and I need you to accept that.”

“No. I won’t. I won’t ever stop until I see him again.”

“I can make many things happen today. I can reunite you with your family; I can make you comfortable here. But Grant,” Huck said the name like it tasted bitter on his tongue, “won’t work within our System, Lucy.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Lucy replied breathlessly.

“I’m sorry,” Huck said, and Lucy’s head popped up: his two words packed a wallop of emotion—as if he actually was sorry, as if it pained him to take away her friend.

“You can’t be,” Lucy said through tears. “You can’t be sorry and also take him away from me.”

“I have more than just you to think about, unfortunately,” he told her and then he turned around. “I’ll be seeing you around, Lucy. Be brave.” Then Huck turned and deliberately stepped over the necklace before punching in a code to the side of the door, which triggered the door to open automatically—like, Lucy couldn’t help but think, the doors in the show Star Trek that her father used to watch despite her and her brother’s protests.

In a second, Huck was gone. The door slid back into place and Lucy, still shackled to the bed, stared after him with her lip quivering and her mind racing. She was about to be reunited with her family. She was about to see her dad, hug her mom, and be with her brothers and sister again. But Grant. Lucy flopped her head back on the bed and brought the pillow up over her face and then she screamed as loud as she could into the folds of the fabric.

Grant. Grant. Grant.

Her friend.

Her solitary companion.

Lucy wiped her tears and struggled to sit up, the paper-thin gown they had dressed her in opened at the back. Seeing her family was secondary; she had to find Grant and help him, save him, rescue him from this place. But she was trapped and alone and without an ally. It was the worst feeling in the God-forsaken world.