“He radioed in and told me that he’s about to rappel down a well because he’s convinced he can hear people.” He laughs. “I get a feeling the others will be back soon. Robyn knows she’s out there for nothing.”
“She’s as disillusioned as I am,” I say.
“You’re not to involve her in what we’re doing. The more Premiums who know, the more chance we have of being betrayed.”
We scan our pads and walk down a hallway lined with doors. The light bulbs flicker. A moan comes from somewhere, and I stop. Jude keeps walking. “We’ve made over thirty arrests since you’ve been away. Suspected RATS mostly. That’s a hunger pang you’re hearing,” he says.
“Why are you starving them?”
Jude stops. “The ministers believe they’ll talk when they’re hungry. Your sister comes down daily to goad them with smoothies and cakes.”
“My sister?”
“She’s working as Lance Vine’s assistant. Seems to be enjoying it.”
I can hardly believe it. Niamh has taken a job?
Jude pushes open a door marked CAUTION—AirtankS REQUIRED. He steps outside and a rush of cold air fills the hallway. He returns with Bea. “In here,” he says, jangling a heavy set of old-fashioned keys and pushing us into an empty cell with condensation running down the walls. “I just want to go on record as saying that pod ministers come and go, but the Ministry has always ruled. They won’t give up power without a fight.”
“And that’s exactly what they’re going to get,” I say. I make it sound easy, though it will be harder than anything I’ve ever done. “Have you advertised for soldiers?”
“We’ve had hardly any applications. The lure of living with the other civic workers in Zone Two doesn’t attract anyone anymore. Not now they suspect what’s going on.” He scrapes his hair back with his fingers.
“In a few days, you’ll have hundreds of applicants. Maybe thousands. Bea and I are going to find what’s left of the Resistance and explain the plan. They’ll get people to sign up.”
Jude chews on his thumbnail. “I’m endangering my family,” he says.
“But you’re already involved.” I raise my voice without meaning to and Jude puts a finger to his lips. He can’t back out now—we need him. “You’re harboring a wanted terrorist.”
He looks at Bea and hangs his head, defeated. “I know,” he says.
“Where’s Jazz?” Bea whispers.
Jude rubs his temples. “She’s recovering in the infirmary.”
“And her leg?” she asks.
“She almost lost it, but she’s okay.”
“Did they question her?” I ask.
“She said she was a drifter’s daughter and her parents died at The Grove fighting the Resistance. She claims to hate the Resistance for killing her parents. She’s quite the actress.”
Bea laughs and we both look at her, surprised by the sound. “She’s a performer,” she explains. “Can I see her?”
“I don’t think so,” Jude says. He opens a metal locker in the corner of the cell. He pulls out a steward’s uniform and hands it to Bea. “You’ll have to wear this,” he says.
“We also need to find a way to keep the Resistance who are on the Ministry’s hit list out of jail,” I say.
“Old Watson will know where they are,” Bea says.
“Who’s Old Watson?” Jude asks. Bea presses her lips together and inspects the steward’s uniform. She isn’t ready to trust him.
He rolls his eyes. “Where are we hiding you, anyway?” he asks.
“We’re taking her to my house,” I say.
36
ALINA
The room I’m to share with Maks contains a double bed, a couple of nightstands, and a dresser. He closes the door, locks it, then runs his eyes up and down the length of my body. Whatever I’m expected to do isn’t going to happen, so I turn my back on him, take off my robe, and stuff it into the trash can. “Anything else you’d like to take off?” The floor creaks, and when I wheel around, he’s so close, his breath is warm against my forehead. “You don’t have to be frightened,” he says. He pushes my hair away from my face, and I shudder. I don’t want him near me. I push him back and try to look tougher than I feel.
I do a quick scan of the room in case there’s anything I could use as a weapon, and hone in on a clock with a stone base. If he tries anything, he’ll get it to the back of his head. “Stay on that side of the room,” I say, pointing. He rubs his mouth, and before I can get anywhere near the clock, he grabs the back of my head and pulls my face close to his.
“You think I’m going to pop your cherry without permission?” he says. With his free hand, he untucks his shirt from his pants.
Is it that obvious I’m a virgin? I stay very still. “I don’t want you,” I say. Regardless of how scared I am, I mustn’t let him see it.
“Oh, come on. I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”
I hold his stare. “Where’s Jo?” I ask.
He licks his top teeth and sucks on them. “You heard Vanya. She’s a benefactor now.”
“Her and your baby?”
He releases me, goes to the window, and throws it open, breathing in the night air like I never have. “You think you’ve got us figured out. Well, you don’t. If anything, you’ve got us all wrong.” When he looks back at me his eyes are watery, but I don’t buy it. I saw him manhandling Jo. And Silas and I saw his lackeys burying a body. It’s impossible we’ve got them wrong.
“I’m sleeping on the floor,” I say.
“Fine,” he says. “Jo did that for a year. Eventually she jumped into bed with me, and it had nothing to do with the cold.” He pulls his shirt over his head and reveals his chest. Maybe he thinks I’ll be won over by his body. I look away and lie down on the floor.
We should never have come here.
And the only thing to do now is to get back to the pod and make it the home it might have always been.
37
RONAN
Niamh isn’t at home, and I manage to smuggle Bea through the garden unseen. When Wendy opens the annex door she smiles and waves us inside, and within minutes of getting to know Bea, she offers up her own bed. She was the only person I could turn to.
I try to convince Bea to rest for a few hours, but once she’s eaten and showered, she’s back in the steward uniform and ready to find the Resistance. “I’ll sleep when I don’t have to do it with one eye open,” she says. She might not have trained with the Special Forces, but she’s as fired up to fight as I ever was.
Bea presses the buzzer on Old Watson’s door. “You stay hidden or he won’t let us in,” she says. She takes off the steward’s jacket and hat and stands back from the peephole so he’ll get a good view of her.
“Watson,” Bea says, as he opens the door wide and grabs her hands.
“What in Mother Earth’s name are you doing here? And what’s with the bloody uniform?” Old Watson says. He’s about to pull her inside, when he spots me. He lets go of Bea’s hands and tries to close the door, but Bea has her foot wedged in it.
“He’s on our side,” she says.
We follow Old Watson as he retreats into his dingy flat and sits on a lumpy couch. I peer into the room’s dark recesses and gasp. He has rows and rows of what look like real plants growing in his living room. “What are those?” I ask, stunned he’s managed to achieve something like this right under the Ministry’s nose.
“They grew from clippings from the biosphere,” Bea says matter-of-factly. And she never thought to mention it? I go to the plants, pull a leaf from one of them, and rub it between my fingers. It’s waxy and green on one side, rough and gray on the other.