Resistant a world divide.., p.30
Resistant: A World Divided, page 30
“He lives here?” I don’t notice when Abel and Claire come up behind us, but when Claire speaks, there is apprehension in her voice.
“He’s one of Dr. Grayson’s most trusted soldiers,” Abel tells her.
“Oh, I know who he is,” Claire says.
Abel raises an eyebrow. “Well, this is one of the oldest buildings in the city. If I had to guess, I’d say there’s a passageway leading to the outside here.”
“It would make sense,” Claire says, following her daughter’s gaze. “Don would need easy access to the outside.”
“Why is that?” Abel asks her, but Claire doesn’t answer him. She takes a few steps up the walkway before Cat grabs her arm.
“I don’t think we should just barge in,” Cat says.
Again with the charades. “Why not?” I interject. “We’re armed. And we have the element of surprise on our side.” I brush past Cat and turn to face Claire. “You know Dr. Grayson probably better than anyone,” I remind her. “You know Don—”
Claire cuts me off. “But I don’t know this place.” She sighs. “Catherine’s right. We need some sort of plan if this is going to work. Dr. Grayson might not realize we’ve escaped, but I bet he’s got a plan in place just in case we did. We need to be two steps ahead of him.” Claire looks deep in thought, searching the house. “She’ll be somewhere he can keep an eye on her. But he’ll want to be left alone. He doesn’t like assistance of any kind. He’ll want all the credit.” Claire is talking to herself.
Credit for what? I wonder but keep my mouth shut.
“A basement maybe?” Cat whispers.
“Or the top floor?” Abel offers.
But Claire dismisses them both. “Dr. Grayson won’t back himself into a corner,” she tells us. “I’m guessing he’ll have Wren somewhere he can escape quickly if he needs to.”
“So we go around back,” I say, ready to lead the pack. “Check for points of entry.”
When no one argues, I nod and continue around the side of the eerily dark, ancient-looking house with Cat, Claire, and Abel in tow. Walking around the yard, staying so close to the building that I can reach out and touch its facade, I am reminded of the last time I searched a house for Wren. When Bill and I discovered an imprisoned Abel and the raider with a bullet in his brain. A chill creeps up my spine. Twice we were so close to finding Wren. But both times, Dr. Grayson had been two steps ahead.
Not this time.
We’re standing in the rather small backyard when Cat breaks the thick silence that seems to accompany this world when the lights go out, and its people sleep. “Look,” she whispers, pointing into the darkness at the great wall of The Dome. “Is that what I think it is?”
It’s difficult to make out exactly what Cat’s pointing at as the thick, opaque wall of their community obfuscates what lies beyond; however, if I were a betting man, I’d swear it’s a bridge.
“It looks like a structure of some sort leading away from the house.” Abel turns and follows its projected path straight to the wall of the large building. “It seems to lead underground. So there must be a basement.” I can’t be sure, but it sounds as though Abel’s voice trembles slightly.
Again I find myself fingering the weapon at my back. Suddenly, filled with undeniable apprehension, I pull out the gun, check the chamber for bullets, and, seeing it is fully loaded, replace the safety and tuck it back into the waist of my pants. It wouldn’t have surprised me to discover that Abel had given me an empty and useless weapon. After all, I had done the same to Bill.
I search the back of the house for signs of life. Of anything out of the ordinary. “Strange,” I say, scanning the house again, “there don’t seem to be any doors.”
“Or windows,” Claire adds.
“They’re probably just hidden,” Cat says, rubbing her hands gingerly over the wall of the house. “Check everywhere,” she suggests. “Dr. Grayson will want to keep enemies out, but he’ll also need a way to escape.”
Sure enough, not five minutes later, Abel shouts, “I’ve got something! I think it’s a scanner!” Cat, forgetting her own advice from moments ago, runs over with her bracelet ready to scan, but Abel stops her first, his grip around her arm. “Remember, we need to be smarter than him,” he tells her.
By this time, the four of us are standing huddled around this supposed door that looks nothing like a door but instead like a wall of misplaced cinder blocks painted the same dark color as the house.
“Like you said,” Abel continues talking to Cat, “he won’t want to back himself into a corner. He could very well be right through this door.”
I noisily pull my gun back out, and all three pairs of eyes turn in my direction as I cock the hammer. “So let’s go get him,” I say, my frustration mounting again. “I’ll have no problem pulling the trigger.”
Claire puts a hand gingerly on my arm. “Ryder,” she says, and I don’t like her motherly tone one bit, “there’s a good chance we’re going to need him alive.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I hiss. “You said it yourself. We need to be two steps ahead of Dr. Grayson. We are! We’ve escaped without him knowing, and now we’ve found our way inside. You’re a doctor, too, Claire. Did you forget that? We don’t need him!”
“We can’t just go in shooting,” Cat says quietly. “What if we hit Wren by mistake?”
I know she’s right, but, still, I don’t put away my gun.
“Let me go in first,” Claire suggests. “Maybe if Dr. Grayson doesn’t suspect we’ve all escaped, he’ll lower his guard.”
“I agree,” Cat says. “If anyone can rattle Dr. Grayson, it’s Claire.”
“Well, I disagree!” Abel chimes in. “I’m not letting either of you put yourself in harm’s way,” he says, indicating Claire and Cat.
I can’t help but appreciate Abel in this moment. “So it’s settled,” I say with a smirk, “I’ll go first.”
Claire, sensing she can’t reason with me, turns her attention to Abel. “Listen, if our bracelets work, and we can get through this door, we should plan for the worst case scenario. If we all go in guns blazing and Dr. Grayson has a team of men waiting with weapons on the other side, we’re all as good as dead. And what good would we be to Wren then?”
I’m more than tired of thinking this through. “We’re wasting time,” I say. “We don’t even know that she’s in there!”
“She’s in there,” Cat says not taking her eyes off Abel who stands shaking his head, and I know he’s trying in vain to come up with a better option.
“There has to be another way,” he whispers. Even blanketed by the heavy shadows of the house, I can see the uneasiness in his eyes.
Cat tenderly places a hand on Abel’s arm. “She’s my sister, Abel. And he’s my father. Maybe Claire and I can talk some sense into Dr. Grayson.” At this remark, I snort loudly. Cat frowns at me but begins to undo her bracelet. “Claire has one, too,” she tells Abel, fitting the slender stollen cuff around his wrist. “Once we’re inside, if you hear anything, anything at all that makes it seem like we’re in danger, come after us.”
I fidget. “This isn’t a good idea,” I grumble, but no one seems to care what I think anymore.
“Give us twenty minutes,” Cat tells Abel and me. “If we’re not out in twenty minutes, come in after us.” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before turning to her mother and taking her hand. “You ready?” she asks Claire.
Claire nods, and with us all holding our breaths, Claire raises the dead guard’s identification bracelet to the scanner. When the light above the screen quietly clicks to green, Cat pushes heavily on the door, and the two of them slip through a small crack and disappear into the house before Abel or I can stop them.
The sound of the door shutting slices through the night like a dagger to the chest, but because I’m not outfitted with my own all-access bracelet, all I can do is wait. And Abel seems quite content to do what Cat has asked him to do. Give them twenty minutes, I think. That’s it. With each slow and tortuous passing minute, however, my frustration and anger build like a volcano on the brink of eruption, and by the time we’re seconds away from following the girls inside, not even I am sure what I’ll do once we go knocking down the door.
27: Cat
At first, it’s nearly impossible to see. Immediately beyond the hidden door, the space is dark, and I feel my way along the cool walls slowly, carefully, until Claire gropes for my arm.
“We’re in a hallway,” she whispers.
I nod in agreement, fully realizing she can’t see my gesture but too afraid to open my mouth.
“Let’s see if we can find a light switch.” But just as the words escape Claire’s lips, the hallway is flooded in an eerie orange glow. Behind me, Claire cries out, but I hold my hand up to silence her.
“It’s ok,” I whisper, finding my voice after seeing we’re alone. “Most of the buildings here are equipped with sensors.” And cameras, I think, but I don’t say this. Once my eyes have adjusted to the dim, not-quite-bright light of the space, I look around. To either side of me are cement walls, and I shudder realizing that even if something were to happen to Claire or me, Abel and Ryder probably wouldn’t hear it. Not through these walls. I shake off the thought. At the end of the corridor, there is a large door with yet another scanner. “Come on,” I say with false confidence and lead Claire down the hall as lights flicker off behind us.
At the door, we both hesitate, an unspoken truth hovering between us. When Claire finally speaks, it’s without conviction. “You don’t have to come with me, Cat,” she says.
“Yes. I do.”
“This is all my fault,” she reminds me, but I disagree.
“You didn’t cause this,” I tell her softly. “You did what any mother would have done.” I place a hand tenderly on her shoulder. “What Dr. Grayson’s doing, what he’s done...if anyone’s to blame, Claire, it’s him.”
“When this is all over,” Claire whispers, taking my hands, “I plan to make it up to you and your sister, ok?”
“Deal,” I say, forcing a smile. “Now let’s go get Wren.”
Claire lifts her bracelet to the scanner, and once the light blinks green, we push it open. This time when the darkness greets us, there are faint sounds to accompany it. It takes another disorienting moment to figure out what I’m hearing.
“Is that?” Claire asks.
“It sounds like hospital monitors.” Lights flicker on above us, and immediately the large, dark, rectangular window that lines the far wall of the room gets my attention. “There!” I say pointing in its direction before jogging over to peer through the glass. “Damn it,” I whisper, trying, again and again, to squint through the thick glass. Wren’s in there. I know it. I can’t see her, but I can feel her presence with every fiber of my being. It’s uncanny and unsettling. “We need to find a way in,” I say.
To my left, Claire is analyzing the dark window as well. “I wonder,” she whispers, fear in her voice. “We can’t see through it, but—”
Before Claire can continue, however, the veil is lifted, and the scene beyond the glass illuminates as if by the hand of some unseen magician. Claire gasps, but I am so shocked by what I see, I don’t make any sound at all. Because on the opposite side of the glass lies Wren, her body shackled to a table, tubes running in so many different directions, that I can’t begin to count them. A heavy silver blanket is pulled to her chin, and her wavy blond hair hangs off the end of the table. Her eyes are closed. She looks as though she’s suspended in midair. But it’s not Wren’s appearance that makes my stomach drop to my feet. It’s the figure sitting casually beside her, analyzing a chart in his hands.
“I can see you,” Dr. Grayson croons, not bothering to look up from his notes.
Claire begins pounding on the glass, the harsh sound startling me. “Scott!” she cries, “let me in!” Boom, boom, boom! “Let me in to see my daughter!”
Dr. Grayson carefully places the clipboard on a table to his left and folds his hands in his lap looking up slowly. He’s enjoying this, I think appalled. “Or what, Claire? You’ll run away again? Or will you kill me this time?”
“Scott, please,” Claire begs. “Please, just let me see her. Let me see that she’s all right.”
Instead of answering her, though, Dr. Grayson looks not at us, but past us, and nods. Immediately, I turn, on guard, but I don’t carry a weapon, so there’s nothing I can do to stop the lone figure who emerges from the shadows holding a gun in our direction.
“Don,” my mother whispers, her voice heavy with defeat now, her hands up in surrender. “Don, you don’t have to do this. Think about Sienne,” she pleads. “This isn’t what she’d want, and you know it.”
“What I know is that she wanted you to suffer as much as you made her suffer,” Don replies icily.
It’s so uncharacteristic, the tone Don holds when speaking to Claire, I can’t believe it’s the same man I’ve grown up with. I also can’t believe that the woman who raised me could ever have wanted anyone to suffer. Not for any reason. I take a small step toward Don. “And what about me?” I ask. “And her?” I point in Wren’s direction. “Would my mother have wanted that?”
For a fleeting moment, Don’s arm wavers slightly, his eyes on mine. But the moment passes as quickly as it came, his angry eyes back on Claire. “She wasn’t your mother,” he says through gritted teeth. “Right, Claire?”
“Don,” Claire pleads again, “it was a mistake! I was young and foolish! The world was dying, and Scott—”
Don laughs. “Please! Don’t you think I know? I was there, too, Claire. I saw how the two of you behaved around him! Like smitten kittens. How could you resist? It didn’t matter that he chose Sienne!” Don seems temporarily lost in his painful memories, but with one quick glance through the window, he sets his shoulders and shuts his mouth.
I turn my head to see Dr. Grayson watching us like we’re characters on an old sitcom, a strange smile on his face. When he recognizes that all of our eyes are now on him, the spell breaks and he gets to his feet and joins us in the rather spacious foyer.
For a moment, no one speaks. Don’s weapon lowers slightly, then resumes its position. For a lingering few seconds, Dr. Grayson stares at Claire whose chest heaves rapidly. He raises a hand like he’s going to strike her, but instead places it delicately on her cheek. Claire turns away and breaks the silence, “What’s wrong with her, Scott?”
At first, Dr. Grayson doesn’t answer but takes Claire’s hand instead, twirling the stolen identification cuff around her wrist looking impressed. “A wall patrolman, then?” he asks but doesn’t wait for an answer before dropping her hand and crossing his arms over his chest, a smug expression on his face. “What’s the matter, Claire? Are you feeling guilty?”
“Damn it, Scott!” Claire shouts, pounding on his arms. Dr. Grayson doesn’t flinch. “What did you do to her?”
“Don’t you mean, what did you do?”
I’m not about to be roped into an ex-lover’s quarrel, so I interject, repeating Claire’s question. “What’s wrong with her?” I ask.
Dr. Grayson looks at me as though noticing me for the first time, his lips curling into a crooked smile. “Glad to see you and your mother are making up for lost time.”
I clench my fists with rage. “No more charades,” I tell him. “I think you owe us an explanation.”
Dr. Grayson laughs. “Oh, you do, do you? Think I owe you an explanation?”
I nod.
He turns to look first at Claire and then at Don, whom he nonverbally instructs to lower his weapon. Don hesitates but slowly brings his arms down. “Let’s get one thing clear, Catherine,” Dr. Grayson says, turning his attention to me. “I don’t owe you anything. I gave you life. I gave you a second chance. And all you did was disappoint me.”
His words hurt, but the pain only enrages me further. Despite how much I want to scream, however, I stay silent and wait for him to continue.
He looks through the glass at Wren, still unconscious on the table, the monitors still indicating her vitals. “Your sister, on the other hand,” and as he says this, he pushes by me and makes his way over to the window where he places a palm on its surface, “will prove to be much more useful.”
Claire joins Dr. Grayson at the window, hesitantly laying a hand on his shoulder. “Scott,” she whispers so quietly I almost can’t hear what she says next, “you don’t need her. Take me instead, ok? I can give you what you need. You know I can.”
Dr. Grayson doesn’t take his eyes from Wren. “Oh, Claire. That’s sweet of you. Really. But I don’t want you,” he says.
The pain in Claire’s voice is apparent when she replies, “But you need me.”
Dr. Grayson considers this for a second before shaking his head. “I needed you, Claire. But whether you realize it or not, you’ve given me everything that’s required to proceed.”
“Scott, for heaven’s sake, she’s your daughter,” Claire says, tears glistening on her cheeks as she turns to look at him. “Please.”
Dr. Grayson steps to the right, letting Claire’s hand fall from his shoulder. “Don’t worry your pretty little face, Claire,” Dr. Grayson says, and I know by his tone that he’s about to reveal something he’s proud of. Some secret he was hoping we might guess but haven’t yet. This is still a game to him. “I have every intention of keeping Corrine alive and healthy.”
