Extraction Read online

  I think of Logan’s fingers lingering on my skin that last rainy day on the Surface, and I almost agree.

  *

  That night, I dream I’m trapped with Sam inside four glass walls. Logan stands outside, pounding on the glass, trying to break in. But he can’t get in, and I can’t get out. Sam presses the barrel of a copper against the skin between my eyes, and smiles.

  I wake on the floor drenched in sweat, tangled in blankets.

  Ariadne sits up in her bed, the covers pulled to her chin. “Are you okay?” she whispers. “You were screaming.”

  My cheeks grow hot as I sit up. Did I fall off? “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m fine,” I say again, snapping the words, because I want to be fine. I should be fine.

  Ariadne presses her mouth into her sheets. “It’s not a bad thing.” The fabric muffles her voice.

  “What?”

  “It’s not a bad thing to be afraid.”

  She watches me, perhaps waiting for me to say something.

  When I say nothing, she gives me a sad smile and turns away, rolling onto her other side. Her breathing slows and steadies.

  In the dark, I fiddle with the hem of my blanket, wondering what she means. Maybe there’s something she fears that’s so terrible, the fear keeps her safe from it. It protects her from getting hurt.

  But I don’t think fear is a good thing for me. It makes me weak, and I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want to be afraid of Sam or officials or anyone ever again.

  16

  I don’t have any more dreams that night, but I wake too many times.

  After a while, I stop trying to sleep, though I have a good hour left before they’ll serve breakfast in the cafeteria.

  In the bathroom sink, I wash my face with warm water. There’s a blackish-blue cut on my upper lip, as Beechy predicted. Another forms a small line above my left eyebrow. I wonder if they’ll leave scars like the one I used to have before the surgeons fixed me up to make me feel like I belong here.

  I pull on my clothes and tie my boots. My leg throbs a little, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as yesterday. I can walk without limping.

  Ariadne is still sleeping, curled up on her side with her hands clutching her pillow. She looks so peaceful, I don’t want to wake her. Anyway, I think I want to be alone.

  In an empty corridor in Invention Division, I sit with my back against reflective steel. In front of me, a strip of glass in the wall reveals the Pipeline’s flashing lights. I’ve already seen one pod fly by, so fast it was really more of a silver blur. I wonder where it’s headed. To Lower, Mantle, Crust, or the Surface. If Logan sees it, I wonder if he’ll think of me.

  We used to watch ships pass by on their way outside the settlement. Before I got lucky one day and found a wooden plank to patch up the giant hole in my shack roof, we had a perfect view of the sky. On nights when pilots flew over our camp, Logan would lift my hand and try to pinch my fingers together at the right moment, so I would squish their ship. If they weren’t going to take us with them, we didn’t think they had any right to escape.

  My intestines twist into knots. I’ve been without him too long. Four days have passed, and he’s already starting to blur in my memory—not all the way, but enough so that I’m worried. My hands shake when I try to picture him.

  Maybe I’m a blur to him too. Maybe he’s already forgotten me, or given up. He promised he’d stay alive as long as there was a chance he’d see me again, but he might’ve changed his mind. Or maybe he lied when he promised. I don’t know anymore.

  If he dies, will I know? Will something shift inside me?

  “We have the same hiding spot,” a voice says.

  I turn my head.

  Beechy’s boots make soft taps on the floor. He walks toward me with his hands in his pockets and a light smile playing on his lips.

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “Not doing a very good job of it, anyway.” He stops beside the glass, training his eyes on the Pipeline. “Guess there isn’t really anywhere to hide.”

  We’re quiet for some time. “Did you want something?” I ask.

  “No. I’m waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He faces me. “Is your friend Oliver feeling better?”

  “I think so,” I say, but I don’t really know. Last night before we went to bed, his cheeks had more color, and he wasn’t shaking anymore. But his eyes didn’t have that spark in them as they usually do.

  After a moment, Beechy says, his voice softer, “What about you?”

  I remember the dream from last night and hug my legs to my chest. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t have to lie.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  He frowns.

  An odd feeling tangles my chest. I swallow to make it go away, but it doesn’t.

  I lie too much, really. Even with Logan, I lied. It was a habit, a way to keep him from worrying. Because he had his own problems to worry about, so why should I bombard him with mine?

  But Logan could always tell when I lied. That was the way things were with us; we pretended things were okay even when they weren’t.

  But I’m not sure I want to lie anymore, to anyone. Especially not to Logan. If he were here, I’d tell him that. I’d tell him I miss him and I don’t want to lose him, and I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry I can’t go back for him yet. I’m sorry I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince Commander Charlie to let me.

  I push off the ground. He’s not here, and I’m going to cry. I don’t want Beechy to see me cry. So I’ll run. Running is much easier.

  “I’ll see you.” I turn to go.

  He reaches out and touches my shoulder, and I pause without even thinking. Like he’s a magnet pulling me back. His hand is warm through the leather of my suit. Warm and real and comforting.

  “It’s important you understand that Sam isn’t kind to anyone,” he says. “He gets away with it because of his position, because Commander Charlie sees something in him worth encouraging.”

  I clench my teeth. I don’t want to think about Sam anymore. Why did Beechy have to bring him up?

  “Why did Charlie even pick him?” I ask. “Officials are supposed to protect us, not hurt us.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It shouldn’t be.”

  “Just … please don’t give him any more reason to be angry with you.”

  “I won’t. Why would I?”

  He turns me around to face him, and gives me a conflicted look that makes me fear he cares too much. Or, he cares too much for whomever I remind him of. “I don’t mind saving you,” he says, “but I’d rather not have to.”

  I look away from him, my breathing shaky. I don’t like that he thinks I need saving. In the safety of my head and heart, I know I’m strong and brave, but not everyone sees it. I need them to see it, to believe I can survive without their help, because that’s the only way I’ll learn to survive on my own.

  “I should be stronger,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t need you to save me.”

  A smile tugs at his mouth. He stares at me, and I stare back. Hesitation fills his eyes, but he doesn’t blink or alter his gaze.

  He makes me feel strange, both warm and cold at the same time. Maybe I don’t have to be afraid.

  “You don’t have anything this afternoon, do you?” he asks softly.

  I shake my head. “Just physical training this morning.”

  “There’s something I’d like to show you. It’s not entirely allowed, but…” The smile reaches his eyes. “I think I can get away with it. Will you let me show you?”

  I bite my lip. I want to let him, but my heart’s beating fast. It scares me. “Can I bring Oliver and Ariadne?”

  “They can come, if they’d like.”

  His fingers release my shoulder, and something inside me deflates. “Meet me back here after lunch,” he says, and walks away.

  *
<
br />   I avoid Sam during training. Every time I glance over at him and the other lieutenants, he’s watching me with subtle anger in his eyes. There’s something else there too: intrigue. As though he’s plotting something.

  I stay near the middle of the group of Extractions, and hope he won’t come near me.

  We don’t do the obstacle course again. Instead we have two hours of sprints and lunges, while Colonel Parker observes us from the sidelines. I wince with every sprint because my leg still hurts, but I try to hide it. I don’t want Sam to know my cheat in Phantom left behind a scar. Thankfully, this is our last day of doing physical work. Tomorrow will be easier.

  But by the end of the session, I can’t walk without clenching my teeth, and I feel like puking. I wish I’d skipped breakfast.

  We shower afterward in a bathroom facility near the training arena. The hot water and steam eases the ache in my leg, until there’s no more pain. I stare at my calf, flexing it to test it out. But there’s nothing. These showers must have miracle water.

  Outside the facility, I meet Ariadne and Oliver.

  “You hungry?” I ask.

  Ariadne shakes her head.

  “Me neither.”

  “I am.…” Oliver says, almost embarrassed. He was told to take it easy during sprints because his arm is still in a sling, so he’s not as tired as the rest of us. “Can I just grab something? And then we can go wherever you want.”

  “Sure. Beechy wants us to meet him afterward, actually.”

  “For what?” Ariadne asks.

  “He didn’t say.”

  We find an elevator nearby. “Where were you this morning, by the way?” Oliver asks when we’re inside. “You were late to breakfast.”

  I stare at my reflection in the glass. The steel wall beyond it looks like gray streaks as we speed along. “I couldn’t sleep. I just went for a walk.”

  “Bad dreams?”

  “Yeah.” I take a deep breath, hoping he won’t ask what they were about. But he’s quiet beside me. Ariadne doesn’t say anything, and I’m grateful.

  The steel wall turns into a window outside the elevator. We just left Training Division, and we’re entering Nourishment Division now. There’s a small plaza through the window where kids are hanging out, or heading toward the cafeteria entrance. There are adults among them too. Mothers holding the hands of their little girls. Fathers frowning at their sons.

  Families.

  “Do you ever dream about your parents?” Oliver asks. “Do you wonder if they’re still alive?”

  I run my teeth over my bottom lip. It feels strange to think about them. I know they must be real; I know I came from somewhere, but I’ve never seen them before and I’m never going to. The parents of child workers are usually replaced once they fulfill their birthing quota, and if an exception is made for them, they continue working in the outer sectors but don’t meet their children. As far as I can tell, they don’t want to.

  “I have once or twice,” Ariadne says, twisting her hands as the elevator slows to a stop. “But not really.”

  Ding.

  “Do you?” I ask Oliver.

  The doors slide open. We step out into the plaza. The cafeteria entrance lies on the far side.

  Oliver’s mouth lifts into a soft smile. “I like to think Dad’s a Surface pilot, and Mom was this nice lady who worked in the security hub back in Crust. It’s probably not true, but sometimes it’s nice to pretend.”

  As we walk, I glance at a mother we’re passing. Her daughter is a few steps ahead of her, maybe three or four years old, walking with her legs wobbly and a thumb in her mouth. The mother scoops her up in her arms, laughing. “Ellie, you’re such a big girl!”

  A dull pain shoots through my chest, and I look away. Maybe it’s nice to pretend, but it’s not smart. We won’t ever have that. We won’t ever feel like someone is our mother or father, whether or not we learn our parents are still alive and well.

  The Developers stole that kind of life from us the day we were born.

  *

  After Oliver grabs a snack in the cafeteria, we meet Beechy. He leans against the wall in the hallway where I met him before. Pipeline lights flash behind him through the glass.

  “What is it you wanted to show us?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer, just pushes off the wall and smiles as he passes. I glance at Ariadne and Oliver before following him.

  He leads us to an upper floor in Invention Division, to a hallway with a lone silver door. He presses his thumbprint into a lock pad, and the door opens. Dim red lights flicker on inside, one by one.

  The room is small with another door at its back. A cylindrical pit sits at the room’s center, with a ladder on its side. I move to it slowly. On my tiptoes, I hold my breath and peek over the top. Clear water fills the pit. It darkens farther down; it must be a deep pool.

  “What’s it for?” I ask, my heart beating fast. If he brought us here to go inside this, I don’t know if I want to. I can’t even swim.

  “You’ve heard that some scientists explore the world outside the Surface settlement, yes?” Beechy says, gesturing for us to follow him to the other door.

  “Of course,” I say, stepping after him and Ariadne into the smaller room beyond. Inside, there are several black cabinets, a bench, and another door.

  Beechy opens one of the cabinets, revealing black suits similar to the ones we’re wearing. Each has a mask and a small black box attached to it.

  “I’m a pilot, like I told you,” he says, picking up one of the suits. “And I’ve been privileged enough to be the pilot for a few Surface explorations. Part of what we do is explore the oceans up there, sometimes to test the water or minerals, other times to collect artifacts.”

  He tosses the suit to me. The fabric is soft and squishy.

  “We also observe animals,” Beechy says. “It’s kind of a special project for Commander Charlie. We’ve captured a few oceanic life forms on these expeditions and brought them here.”

  “Inside the pit?” Ariadne asks, hesitantly taking the suit he hands her.

  “Exactly. I thought you might like to see them.”

  I twist my mouth. That means we’ll have to swim.

  “That’s allowed?” Oliver asks, his brows furrowing.

  “You’ll be perfectly safe,” Beechy says, shutting the cabinet and turning to one of the others. “You don’t need to concern yourself with anything else.”

  I study his eyes for some hint of explanation, but he keeps his face carefully controlled. His fingers skim the bigger suits on the shelves until he finds the one he’s looking for. “You can change in one of the stalls through the door,” he says. “When you’re finished, I’ll show you how to use the respirator.”

  “I don’t think I should swim,” Oliver says, holding up his wounded arm in the sling.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Beechy shuts the second cabinet. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll just wait here.” Oliver drops onto the bench.

  “Are you sure?” I ask. He doesn’t seem happy about it.

  “Mhm.”

  Beechy glances at me. His eyes shouldn’t pierce me like that. They shouldn’t set my stomach fluttering. I force myself to look away from him.

  I follow Ariadne through the door into a short hallway with a set of bathroom stalls.

  “I don’t know how to swim,” Ariadne says.

  “Neither do I.” I push open a stall and hurry inside. If there’s any nervousness in my face, I don’t want her to see it. “It’s probably not that hard, though,” I say.

  “I hope not,” she says.

  I slip out of my clothes and into the special suit. It stretches easily to fit my form. The small black box attached to its back must be the respirator Beechy mentioned, which holds oxygen. It’s connected by a tube to the mask that will go over my mouth and nose, allowing me to breathe underwater.

  A shiver of fear and excitement trails down my spine. I’ve never been u
nderwater.

  We wait outside by the pit while Beechy changes. I tie my curls up so they won’t block my vision while I swim. Ariadne trails her fingers through the water, while Oliver eyes it with mild suspicion.

  “I hope the animals aren’t loose down there,” he says.

  “Why wouldn’t they be loose?” Ariadne asks.

  “They might be dangerous.”

  I take a step closer to the pit and squint, but it doesn’t help me see what’s down there in the darkness.

  We didn’t learn much about the two oceans on the Surface in school. We knew a filtration system made their saltwater drinkable, and pipes transported the filtered water to the Surface city and to the lower sectors. We knew that some of the food adults ate came from the ocean, but that was all. It was too far away.

  “Ready?” Beechy asks, walking through the door and joining us by the pit.

  “Ready,” Ariadne says.

  “Let’s turn your respirators on,” he says, moving to me first. He helps me pull the oxygen mask over my head, and fits it over my mouth and nose. A strap and suction hold it in place.

  His fingers brush my earlobe. I bite hard on my lip. He takes my hand and guides it to a small red button on the side of the mask. “As soon as we’re under, hold your breath and press this for five seconds,” he says. “That’ll release the oxygen from the respirator, and then you’ll be able to breathe.”

  “Okay.” The mask gives my voice an echoey quality.

  “You can get in now, if you like. Relax in the water, and you should float with no trouble.” He moves to help Ariadne with her respirator.

  I climb the ladder, focusing on my breath. This won’t be scary—it’ll be fun, I tell myself.

  I sit on the top of the ladder and dip my toes into the water. It’s cold, but not icy. The suit will keep me warm, I think. I hope.

  I take a breath and push off the ledge.

  Water envelops my body, not cold or warm, but somewhere in between. My head submerges without me wanting it to, and for a moment I panic like I did in the gravity capsule.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I jam the red button down.