Blight Page 23

  I look the doctor in the eye. “Has the blight stopped spreading?”

  A flash of alarm crosses his face. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then hangs his head.

  “It hasn’t, has it?”

  His head snaps up. “It isn’t all as bad as that.” He checks over his shoulder, and then turns back to me. “Don’t let your mother know I told you this, but it’s almost contained along all borders except the east, and then there’s the sea to stop it, if it gets that far.”

  The children’s bodies on the bunker floor flash before my eyes, and then the gray trees with their shriveled leaves. I see the creeks and rivers branching across the land like a circulatory system. Purposeful or not, the blight is a weapon, engineered to kill anything and everything. “What makes you think it will stop at the sea?”

  He looks from his computer to the door, and then back again, his eyes widening. “I hadn’t . . . uh, excuse me. Could you stay here a moment? I’ll be five minutes, no more.”

  “Okay.” I point to his screen. “Could I look at the blight resistance data?”

  “Of course.” He pats his pockets, looking distracted. “I have some games on there, too, if you want. Harvest Town. Bubblebop. MoleMaze.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. Does he think I’m a little kid?

  “I’ll be right back.” He runs out, tapping something into his com cuff.

  I take Dr. Mitra’s seat and minimize the file he had pulled up. Yes. He’s left himself signed into AgraStar’s internal network. I check over my shoulder. His screen faces outward, so anyone walking in will immediately see what I’m up to.

  My heart beats fast and tight. If Kurich is still around and walks in on me doing this, I have a feeling things are going to escalate beyond a “little chat.” I open the link to the security division’s intranet and page through. Building evacuation procedures, incident reports, transport guard rosters, patrol rotations, and—there! Protective Custody Database. Even if Alder is in the hospital, they’ll still have him under guard.

  I click to open the database, but the screen flashes red and a password box pops up. I try my old code from the compound.

  INVALID ENTRY.

  I drum my fingers on the lip of the desk. Dammit. I look behind me again. Any minute, my mother is going to come back or the doctor is going to realize he’s left me with open access to the network and rush back in. If only Crake were here. He could hack past this, no problem. But he isn’t. He won’t ever be.

  Crake. I must have watched him log into the security databases in the Eye a thousand times. With so many dead, will they have had time to update his records and erase his access codes yet? I close my eyes and move my fingers. Yes. I still remember it. I tap in the code.

  The password box clears, and the screen fills with names. I let out a breath and then lean forward. Where is he? I scan the list, but there are too many entries, and I don’t have any clue what security would have put down for Alder’s last name. Does he even have one? Eden did, and Deacon Ward, but Alder’s parents died along the road, so maybe he never even learned what it was. I re-sort the list by intake date. There. Four days ago.

  Company-State: Unaffiliated

  Sex: Male

  Given name: Alder

  Surname: N/A

  Status: Medical detention, stable

  ID Assigned: 02477193-S

  Location: Complex MA, security sublevel 2, cell 2-020

  Note: Self-surrender. Found incapacitated near roadblock 73-Outer, southbound. Treated for rabies, infection, severe dehydration. Recommend transfer after completion of observation period

  I let my hand fall away from the screen. He’s stable. Not too sick for visitors. My mother lied.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. But why would she care so much if I want to check in on him? Is she afraid he’s going to . . . what did she call it? Radicalize me, like my father. Maybe he already has. Thinking scavengers’ lives are worth saving seems to be a radical idea around here.

  I hear someone coming. I quickly log out and pull up the genetics data again. I prop my elbows on my knees and lean toward the screen, trying to look engrossed.

  Dr. Mitra appears in the doorway. “Ah . . . um, excuse me. I forgot . . .” He leans over me, and with a few taps and swipes, logs out of the network so all I can see are the files he’s opened for me, the data on the blight-resistant tomato seeds. “There. Be right back.”

  He disappears again, and I’m left with nothing to look at but the color-coded bars on the screen. I fiddle with my com bracelet and tap open the heart-rate tracker. It shows a series of steep spikes from the past few minutes. I have to do a better job of keeping my pulse steady, so I don’t leave a record of my wrongdoing.

  “Hey!”

  I jump. The guy from the transport, the one with the scar—Ellison, but not Ellison—stands behind me, dressed in pressed dark green fatigues and buffed black boots. He looks like a security forces recruitment poster.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurt out.

  He’s not Ellison, I remind myself. It’s only a coincidence. An extremely fucked-up coincidence.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He smiles at me, that teasing grin I know so well, but on a living man, not a dead one. I feel dizzy.

  “You’re the Salcedo girl,” he says. “Adela, right?”

  “Tempest,” I say. “But yeah. That’s me.”

  “I’m sorry we were so rough on you during the drive in.” He shrugs. “We didn’t know who you were.”

  “Neither did I,” I say quietly, and then look up at him. “Besides, you weren’t the one being rough on me.”

  “Aw, well.” He hangs his head slightly. “I didn’t stop them, either.”

  I lean back in the chair and wave away his words. “I know how it is on patrol. I could have been anybody. A scavenger, or a spy for one of our competitors—”

  “That’s right. You were on security up at SCP.” He smiles broadly. “Man, everyone in our unit went insane when they heard that. Director Salcedo’s daughter, a perimeter guard, like us.”

  My whole body warms, and then my stomach drops. He’s not Ellison. As much as he moves and looks and sounds like him, he’s a stranger.

  “I know this sounds weird, but . . .” I twist my com cuff. “Did you have, like, a brother or a cousin at my facility?”

  He frowns. “No. I’m an only child. My parents wanted more, but it wasn’t in the cards.”

  “Are you sure?” I raise my eyebrows.

  He nods. “Unless my dad is keeping a second, secret family on a mechanic’s allotment.”

  I snort and cover my mouth. “Sorry.”

  He grins. “So, what are you doing up here?”

  “Dr. Salcedo—I mean, my mother was giving me a tour.”

  He straightens his back and looks around. “Where is she?”

  I shrug. “She got called away and left me with Dr. Mitra. Then he had to leave, too.” I cock my head to the side. “What about you?”

  “I’m on security transport duty,” he says. “For the H-BAR.”

  “The what?”

  “The herbicide and biological agent resistance lab.” He nods to his right.

  “Oh. What are you transporting?” I ask.

  He shakes a finger at me mock-menacingly. “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”

  I laugh again, despite myself.

  “My unit’s off tonight. Some of us are going out,” he says. “You should come.”

  My smile falls away. It’s not this guy’s fault he looks like Ellison. He’s nice. Has that same kind of gallows humor all of us on guard duty have. Any other time, I’d say, “Yes, sir, present for duty.” But what about Alder? How can I go out when he’s in a detention cell somewhere? And with Ellison’s ghost?

  I glance at the deserted hall behind him. “I don’t know. My mother might not let me.”

  He nods. “I guess my mom would keep me on a pretty tight leash if I’d been missin
g for fourteen years, too.”

  I look down at my com cuff. “Yeah.”

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Well, if you’re able to get off daughter duty, we’re meeting at the Ferris wheel at nine.”

  “Okay,” I say, my heart beating faster despite myself. “I’ll try.”

  He steps back and waves. “See you, Salcedo.”

  Salcedo. Homesickness washes over me. I push myself out of the chair. “Wait!”

  He stops midway down the hall and turns. “Yeah?”

  “You didn’t tell me. What’s your name?”

  “Byrd,” he says. “Eli.”

  I put my hand on the wall to steady myself.

  “See you tonight.” He smiles again, just like I remember, and with that, he’s gone.

  .21.

  BUTTERFLY MILKWEED

  ASCLEPIAS TUBEROSA

  I sit at the sunroom table, studying the map of AgraStar headquarters. We’re in the R&D building, full of labs and offices on the lower floors, and residences for the senior administrators and scientists above, as well as a health club, spa, and that pool and restaurant on the roof. MA, where Alder is being held, is two blocks over, near the security forces barracks. HEALTH CLINIC, INPATIENT WARDS, ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICES, the building key reads.

  Isabel drops her schoolbag in the chair next to me and leans over my shoulder. “Whatcha looking at?”

  I tap out of the screen. “Nothing.” My voice sounds all wrong. Guilty. Defensive. And for no reason. The map is one of the unrestricted pages on the AgraStar network. No one would think I was trying to find a way to Alder by simply looking at it. “Just a map of downtown.”

  She folds her arms. “Are you actually leaving the apartment?”

  “Maybe. I—”

  My mother breezes through, carrying a tray of sliced vegetables. “What’s this I hear? Going somewhere?”

  I look down at the tablet, mind racing. “I ran into someone from security detail at the lab this morning,” I blurt. “He invited me out with his unit this evening.”

  “He?” My mother raises an eyebrow and sets the tray down. “What’s his name?”

  “Eli Byrd,” I say, dying a little bit. “But it’s not like that. I only . . . I thought it’d be nice to meet some people my own age.”

  She frowns. “I’m sure I could invite my colleague Sonja’s daughter and some of her friends over, if you’re feeling lonely.”

  “No, that’s not . . .” Why does she care? And why am I asking her in the first place? I’ve always been free to wander the open zones whenever I wasn’t on duty—jog the track around the substation, visit the firing range, hang around the Eye or the motor-pool garage, listening for gossip. “I’m used to how things are in a security unit. I just want to feel, I don’t know . . . normal for a little.”

  My mother’s face relaxes. “I see. Where would you be going?”

  “He said to meet at the Ferris wheel at nine o’clock.” I look at Isabel, who’s slumped in a chair and scowling.

  “So late,” my mother says.

  “I guess my mom would keep me on a pretty tight leash if I’d been missing for fourteen years, too.”

  “I used to do midnight to six a.m. patrols,” I say. “Besides, I’d be with a whole security team. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  My mother purses her lips.

  “And this way, you could go to that gala thing,” I add, and smile. She was going to anyway; I’m sure of it. But now she doesn’t have to feel guilty. “You don’t have to hang around here keeping me company all the time.”

  “It would be good to put in an appearance.” She stares out at the city, and then nods. “I’ll have my people conduct a security audit.”

  “Does that mean yes?” I ask.

  “Tentatively.” She smiles. “And you have to be back before the midnight civilian curfew.”

  Yes! I mentally pump my fist. “Thank you.” If nothing else, I can recon the MA building, see how difficult it would be to get in.

  “Do you have enough points?” she asks.

  I nod. Of course I do. I haven’t spent any of the ones she transferred to me, and even if I had, she gave me enough to last an entire year.

  She clears her throat. “In the meantime, I have something for you.” She sits on the opposite side of the table and nods at the tablet in my hands.

  “What’s this?” I look down. A new icon flashes on the screen. A security file. I tap to open it. My security file. I look up at her, wide-eyed. I had thought she was brushing me off when I asked to look at it.

  “You said you wanted to see it.” She reaches across the table and lays a hand over mine. I look at it. The tendons and veins stand out beneath her skin, but her fingernails are perfect, delicate ovals. Tracing the elegant lines of my mother’s fingers with my own chubby child’s hand. Up and down, like a sound wave. Studying the folds of her knuckles and the lines on her palms.

  I draw back sharply and look up, meeting her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I should have asked. I—”

  “No.” I shake my head, guilt overwhelming me. Here I am, plotting ways to work around her, and she’s trusting me with the information I asked for. “It’s only . . . you asked me if I remembered anything, and I think I do. Just a little piece.”

  She stills. “What was it?”

  “We were at a meeting, maybe. Some kind of place where I had to stay quiet and sit in my chair.” I study her expression. Soft and open. Wanting. “And I was looking at your hand.”

  She looks away and smiles. “You were always doing that. I showed you how to trace our hands with a pen one time, and you liked it so much, you used to pretend to trace them even when we didn’t have any paper.”

  Isabel lets out a huff, grabs her bag, and storms out of the sunroom.

  My mother and I exchange a surprised look.

  “What was that?” I say.

  She shakes her head and pushes herself up. “I’ll go talk to her. Don’t worry about it.” She points at the tablet. “Just read over that, whenever you’re ready. And if there’s anything you’d like to discuss . . .”

  I nod and hug the tablet to my chest. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Good,” she says, and then sweeps away, calling Isabel’s name.

  I gaze down at the screen, but my eyes won’t focus. How can my mother be so soft and kind one minute, then so businesslike and calculating the next? The unpredictability makes me uneasy. But she cares about me. I don’t think she’s faking that. It would be so much easier to trust her and forget about everything that happened before, to lean back into all this luxury and opportunity, and never worry again. She’ll take care of me. She trusts me. With her behind me, I could be more than a loyal AgraStar employee, I could be someone important. I could truly belong.

  But Alder . . . Even if she gave me my security files, she lied about Alder. And she lied about the blight. Or at least, she didn’t want me talking about the truth. I look through the doorway into the living room, where she stands talking to Isabel. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see my mother gesturing, pleading. What else could she be hiding?

  I stand on the brick pavers beneath the lights of the Ferris wheel, a warm August breeze ruffling my hair. It isn’t what I expected, looking down from my window several days ago. The skeleton of a larger wheel stands still and dark behind the lighted one. Most of its cars are missing, but the remaining ones are sleek, glass-enclosed pods, big enough for six people, easy. I crane my neck to look all the way up at it. That’s what I saw from the window. I didn’t even notice the smaller one in its shadow.

  The sun has gone down, but the streetlamps and colored bulbs strung over the entrance to the ride give the plaza the feeling of dusk. Couples and families with small children breeze by, hand in hand, and a group of kids Isabel’s age screams in delight from the top car. The smell of sizzling meat and popcorn wafts from the food cart vendors parked on the sidewalks. Several kids fly sm
all radio-controlled drones with neon colors and flashing lights above our heads. The kids shriek when their toys nearly collide and then pivot them to chase one another.

  Eli emerges from the crowd, wearing a plain black T-shirt and his green fatigue pants. He raises his hand in greeting. I’m braced to see him this time, and the shock is a little less. I wave back.

  He stops in front of me. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I smile back.

  “So, what do you think?” He looks up at the Ferris wheel and the skyscrapers beyond it.

  I follow his gaze. “Everything’s so tall.”

  He grins. “Spoken like a true country girl.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Didn’t you think the same thing the first time you saw the city?”

  “I grew up here,” he says. “It’s just part of the landscape to me. I guess you stop noticing after a while.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “It must be you can get used to anything if you grow up with it.”

  Suddenly it dawns on me—he’s come alone. “Where are your friends?”

  “They went to grab a drink,” he says. “I told them we’d come find them after I introduced you to the Ferris wheel. I figured, she’s never been to Atlanta, she probably hasn’t crossed paths with too many amusement-park rides.”

  “I haven’t.” A giddy feeling starts in my stomach. I know I ought to be all business and gather as much information as I can, but I can’t keep down a burst of excitement. “They won’t mind if we go without them?”

  “Nah.” Eli waves a hand. “They’re tired of it. They’ve been on it a million times.”

  “But not you?” We start toward the low metal entrance gates.

  “I never get tired of Ferris wheels.” He gives me a sly look. “Or pretty girls.”

  I stop, face flaming. Is that what this is about? My body is giving all the signs that’s what I want, but my brain feels fuzzy, like I’m not getting enough oxygen. He’s not Ellison. He might sound and look and move like Ellison, but he isn’t. And I’m not here for him, anyway. He’s only my cover for reconning the MA building.

  “Hey.” He stops beside me. “Are you all right? I can’t be that bad looking, can I?”