My voice trembled. “Pops?”
“B.O.S.S. took him.” Dee’s voice cracked, fresh tears streaming down her face.
“The scrambler ran out of time. That silly old fool kept on talking. It’s my fault. I should have stayed in here with him. Kept an eye on him.” Gran twisted her hanky, her voice shaking. “He’s so sick. He won’t survive reassimilation.”
“There, there, Edith.” Harriet stroked Gran’s shoulder. “You don’t know that’s what they’re going to do. They just took him for questioning.”
“Surely they won’t… He can’t have said anything important. He was spouting off with his cronies.” I arched my head back, staring at the ceiling, gathering together my swirling thoughts. This could not be happening. “Pops isn’t a threat to anyone.”
“It’s not what he said. It’s the machine, Nina…” Gran said. “The machine is the problem. They found him with contraband. There was no way to explain it away. If he hadn’t insisted that Dee and I didn’t know what it was, they’d have taken us, too.” She thrust a paper in my hand. “We’re supposed to be there on Monday.”
“He doesn’t have his leg,” Dee cried. “Nina, they wouldn’t let him take his leg. We have to do something.”
I started pacing back and forth. There was nothing for us to do, not until Monday. I looked at Gran sitting on the couch. Her skin was ashen, and her breathing was worse than before I’d left.
“Gran, are you all right?” I bent down and touched her arm. She laid her hand on mine and let out a breath.
“Nina… I can’t breathe.” She grabbed her left arm and collapsed back on the sofa, eyes closed.
“Gran!” Dee cried.
“Dee, call the clinic! Now! Nina, do you know CPR?” Harriet’s voice wavered.
Dee sprang to the door, pressing the emergency button on the entry pad to alert the medics. Harriet helped me slide Gran off the couch and onto the floor. Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. She was still breathing, but just barely. I loosened her collar and felt for a pulse on her neck. Her skin, the near-translucence of old age, slid across her bones, fragile, breakable, like an antique china cup. Rhythmically, I pressed on her chest. With each movement, I said, “Gran.” Push. “Don’t leave.” Push. “Please.” Push. “Gran…”
The medics rushed in, swept Harriet and Dee aside, and took over for me on the chest compressions. Dee’s arms circled my waist, mine hers, and Harriet’s wrapped around us both. She was whispering prayers.
I knew Gran believed in a god. I’d never been sure what I believed about God and prayers, but where else could I turn? I silently echoed Harriet’s words, begging Gran’s god to hear me. To not let her die.
“She’s stabilized,” one of the medics said. “Let’s get her to Metro.”
Moments later they had Gran on a stretcher and were wheeling her out of the apartment.
“Who’s coming with us?” the tech asked. “Only got room for one.”
“You go,” Harriet said to me. “Dee and I will meet you there.”
I squeezed my sister to me. My words tangling in her hair. “Be brave.” I hoped I could do the same.
The E-Med trans screamed through the city. I kept twisting around from the front seat to keep an eye on Gran. Although I couldn’t see her, I could see the lines on the machine to which they had her hooked up. Those lines were still moving. That was a good thing.
When we arrived at Metro, the hospital for all low-tiers and welfare people, the medics transferred Gran to a hospital gurney and left without a word. I was lost. The only other time I’d been in the hospital was when my mom, Ginnie, died, and that had been with a police escort in and with a B.O.S.S. escort out. I wrapped my arms around myself, holding in those awful memories.
A woman in slacks scanned Gran’s info while several nurses and hospital techs crowded around her. The blur of their colorful scrubs reminded me of an Impressionist painting come to life. Life. Hang on, Gran. I peered at her through the sea of colors.
Please, Gran. I can’t lose you, too. B.O.S.S., hoping for information no doubt, had arranged to keep my mom alive long enough for us to talk, to say good-bye. But I knew there’d be no Infinity machine keeping Gran alive if… I blinked back the tears crowding to get out. I was an adult now. I had to handle this like an adult.
A girl, not a whole lot older than me, guided me away from the cluster. Her badge said INTAKE. She pointed down the hall. “You need to wait in there. The sign that says WAITING ROOM.” When I didn’t move, she said, “You can read, can’t you?”
I glared at her. “Of course I can read.”
“You welfs are all the same.” She smirked. “You still have to wait—”
“I am not on welfare,” I said through clenched teeth. “This is where government retirees have to come.”
“Yeah.” She glanced over my clothes. “The low-tier ones.” Before I had a chance to retort, she said, “The doctor will be in to see you when they’re done with her.” She gave me a final once-over before going back to whatever rock she’d crawled out from under.
It wasn’t like she was making a ton of credits working intake at Metro. She was no better than me. Sal’s words rang in my head, It’s what’s in the person. Well, what was in that person was a whole lot of nasty. I trudged to the waiting room.
It was filled with anxiety, fear, and sadness. I perched on the edge of a vacant chair near the door, ashamed of the thoughts running through my head about my fellow occupants. Judging thoughts, mean thoughts, the same thoughts that awful girl had insinuated when she’d ordered me out of the emergency area. My PAV beeped me out of my self-loathing. It was Sal.
“Nina. Are you okay?”
“They took Pops. Gran had— She had an attack. Gran’s at Metro. Can you come? I need you.”
His response was cut off by another voice—a girl’s voice. Paulette.
“Sal. We’ve got to go. Now.”
“I can’t come, Nina. I have to—”
“Sal,” Paulette urged.
“I’ll call when I can.” His PAV clicked off.
Sal was with Paulette. NonCon business? It had to be. I knew that I shouldn’t mind, but I did. Sal was my boyfriend. I really needed him now. Was this what it was like for Ginnie when my dad took off? How did she deal? I knew the answer. She got tough. She took Ed’s abuse. She gave her life. Was I going to do the same? I stared at the floor, even though it could give me no answers.
“Nina!” Dee burst into the room, with Harriet right behind. I hugged Dee tight and explained what I could. There was little I could update them on, other than the fact that Gran was being attended to. A commotion across the room put a stop to our conversation.
“My baby!” a woman shrieked. “No! You’re lying! She just turned sixteen. She’s my life!” She made a grab for the med tech who had apparently just given her the news that her daughter was dead. “They killed her! You’ve got to do something!”
Her companion restrained her. “Mona. Sis.” Holding and stroking her sister, she said to the tech, “What do we do now?”
“If you insist, we can call the authorities,” he said. “But, there’s no medical indication that the sex wasn’t consensual.” He shrugged.
“Consensual? Those animals!” The mother broke free, lunging at the man.
I hustled Dee behind me. Harriet grabbed my arm, and we became a barrier between the frantic woman and my little sister.
“Five of them! Do you hear me?” the woman screamed. “Five! It’s murder! All because of that damned tattoo! How can you say—”