Once: An Eve Novel Part 14

Pip lifted her head. "You went to the City of Sand without me." It was a statement, not a question. "You've been in the City of Sand this whole time."

"I know how this must seem," I said, reaching out for her hand. She pulled it away before I could touch her. "But it's not like that." I stopped myself, knowing I couldn't reveal too much in front of Joby. "I'm here now," I offered. But it sounded so small, so pathetic, even to me.

Ruby was staring at me. She bit at her nails. "Why are you here?" she asked.

To help you get out, I thought, the words dangerously close to leaving my mouth. Because I don't know when I'll be able to see you again. Because I've thought of you both every day since I left. "I had to come," I said instead. "I needed to know you were okay."

"We're not," Pip mumbled. She stared at the table, her finger making idle circles. Her cuticles were b.l.o.o.d.y and swollen. Her pregnant belly was visible when she sat down, the green gown jutting out around her midsection. "We get to sit out here once a day, for an hour. That's all." She lowered her voice, her eyes darting to Joby. "Once a day. The girls who are on bed rest are strapped down. They give us pills sometimes that make it hard to think."

"They said it won't be long," Ruby offered. "They said we'll be released soon."

I tried to keep calm, feeling the guards staring at me. The King hadn't yet decided what would happen to the first generation of girls from the birthing initiative, but I'd heard it would still be years until they were released. I thought of the key that I'd given to Arden. Of the dissidents somewhere below the City, working on the tunnels. Of the rest of the Trail, leading away from the Schools, winding through the wild, to Califia. Arden would get them out. And if she didn't, if she couldn't, I would find a way. "Yes, it's going to be all right."

"That's what they say," Pip continued. "That's what all the girls keep saying. Maxine and Violet, and the doctors. Everyone thinks it's going to be all right." She gave a sad little laugh. "It's not."

I watched her as she ran her fingers over the stone table, her knee bouncing up and down. She wasn't the same person who'd slept in the twin bed beside me all those years, who had done handstands on the lawn, who I sometimes caught humming to herself as she dressed, stepping to the side, then back, in a secret solitary dance. "Pip, you have to believe that," I tried. "It will be."

"Let's get you two back inside," Joby said, stepping forward. Pip kept staring at the table.

"Pip?" I asked, waiting until her gaze finally met mine. Her skin was pale, her freckles faded from so many hours indoors. "I promise everything is going to be okay." I wanted to go on, but they were already getting up, their hands crossed at the wrists behind them, ready to go inside.

"Will you come back?" Ruby asked, turning to me.

"I'll try my best."

Pip slipped inside the building without saying goodbye. Ruby followed after, glancing over her shoulder one final time. Then they were gone, the door falling shut behind them, the hollow click of the lock stiffening my spine.

forty.

WHEN I RETURNED TO THE CITY, I GRANTED REGINALD MORE interviews. I spoke of my great excitement for the wedding, of Charles's commitment to The New America, and of my visit to the School, all the while comforted by the questions that would arise once I disappeared. People would have to wonder what had happened to me, their Princess, why I had gone missing on one of the biggest days in recent history. The King wouldn't be able to explain it away so easily, as he'd explained away everything else. Each day that I was out in the wild, on the run, meant one more day for the City to think about where I was, to question what I had said, to remember all the rumors that had circulated after Caleb's capture. Enough people had seen the soldiers grab me, had watched as my hands were bound and I was brought inside.

Harper had reached me through the paper only once more, to confirm the plan was in effect. Now I stood in the suite, staring out the window for the last time at the crowded City below. The morning sun reflected off the metal barricades lining the sidewalks, showing the extensive route that wound around the City center. People were already a.s.sembling on the main road. The streets were packed all the way to the Outlands.

The door opened behind me. Beatrice was in a cerulean blue dress, squeezing her hands together nervously. I stepped forward and pressed her fingers between my own. "I told you, you don't have to do this. You don't have to help me. It could be dangerous."

"I want to," she said. "You have to leave today-it's not a question. I just hid the ring." I wrapped my arms around her, not wanting to let go. In just an hour, the King would come to my suite, ready to escort me downstairs to the car, its engine running, waiting to start the long procession. He'd find the room empty, that silly white dress laid out on the bed. He'd move through the Palace, scouring the dining room, the parlor, his office. On one of the floors he'd find Beatrice, in a search of her own, frantic to find my ring before the procession started. She'd tell him that she'd just left me in my room, that I'd insisted she look for the missing piece of jewelry, afraid that it had slipped off somewhere outside the suite.

"Thank you," I whispered, the words feeling inadequate. "For everything." I looked around the room, remembering how she had washed my scarred wrists when I'd first arrived, how she'd sat on the bed with me, her hand on my back as I fell asleep. "As soon as I reach the Trail I'll look for Sarah," I whispered. "We'll get her out in time."

"I hope so," she said, her face darkening at the mention of her daughter.

"She'll come back to you," I insisted. "I promise."

Beatrice smiled, then pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Clara's just down the hall-wait for her signal before you leave. I'll stay here for another forty minutes," she said. "All the entrances should be clear now. I won't let anyone come in." She fell back into the room, gesturing for me to go.

I crept toward the door. The lock had been plugged the same way the one in the stairwell had, a wad of paper lodged in its depths, preventing it from latching. I listened for the soldier. He stood right beside the door, his heavy breathing filling the air. My hand was on the k.n.o.b, waiting to hear Clara's voice.

After a few minutes the sound of footsteps echoed against the wood floors. "I need help!" Clara called down the corridor. "You there-someone has broken into my suite."

I heard the soldier's m.u.f.fled reply and the argument that followed, Clara insisting he go with her right then, that her very life was in jeopardy. As they started down the hall I opened the door a crack. Clara was walking quickly, holding up the hem of her dress, going on about the broken lock on her safe, how someone must've come into her suite during breakfast. The soldier listened intently, rubbing his forehead with his hand. Before they rounded the corner Clara glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine.

I darted toward the east stairwell. I wore the sweater and jeans I'd worn the first night I'd left the Palace, my hair secured in a low bun. I missed the cap I had pulled down over my eyes, feeling more exposed now, more recognizable as I started down the stairwell. I kept my eyes on my feet, careful to duck below the tiny windows that faced onto each floor.

Far below, the Palace mall was crowded with people. Workers were closing up their stores for the morning, pulling down large metal grates to cover their front windows. Shoppers emptied into the streets. Soldiers directed everyone out the various exits, clearing the main floor for the procession. I kept my head down as I started toward the same door I'd gone out of that first night, feeling the soldiers' eyes on me. "Keep moving!" one called out, his words tensing my entire body. "Go to the right when you reach the main road."

I followed the crowd, squeezed into the s.p.a.ce between the Palace fountain and the metal barricades. The man next to me had his son with him, his arm around his shoulders as they took small steps, filing outside. I brought my hand to my face, trying to avoid being noticed by the two older women to my left, red-and-blue scarves tied festively around their necks. "Paradise Road will be the best view," one of them said. "If we're on the right-hand side, opposite the Wynn Tower, we can avoid the congestion. I'm not getting stuck behind the crowds like we were for the parade."

Finally we were down the Palace's marble steps, moving faster as we filed along the main strip and across the overpa.s.s. I broke off, relieved when I was away from the women, lost in the s.h.i.+fting current of the crowd. It would take time to get to the Outlands. I'd antic.i.p.ated this, but it was even more apparent now, with everyone packed inside the barricades, shuffling along the sidewalks. Some streets were closed. The procession route was dotted with soldiers, many standing in the narrow road, scanning the roofs of the buildings, their rifles in hand.

I squeezed between people, ducking around a man who'd stopped to tie his shoe. When I pa.s.sed a restaurant I checked the time against the clock inside. It was nine fifteen. Caleb had been led out of the prison by Harper's contact there. The dissidents should've met him in the Outlands by now. They were probably already at the hangar. With the soldiers concentrated inside the City center, there'd be less security near the wall. No one would come by the construction sites. It could be an hour or more before the handful of soldiers at the prison realized Caleb was missing and got word to the tower patrol.

The day was oppressively hot. I pulled at the neck of my sweater, wis.h.i.+ng for an escape from the sun. All around me, people spoke excitedly about the wedding procession and the Princess's dress, and the ceremony that would be broadcast on billboards throughout the City. Their voices seemed far away, a chorus fading into the background, as my thoughts returned to Caleb. Harper had told me he hadn't been hurt. He'd said they would get him out. He had promised that Jo was securing places for us on the Trail, that they'd be waiting in the hangar for me when I arrived. As I crept closer to the Outlands, the minutes pa.s.sed more quickly. I let myself imagine it, seeing him there, inside the open room. Our fingers laced together as we started through the dark tunnel, putting the City behind us.

I hurried my steps, weaving in and out of the crowd as I moved closer to the old airport. I didn't look at anyone. Instead I fixed my gaze on that spot in the south, just off the main road, where the buildings opened up to cracked pavement.

The Outlands were quiet. Across the gravel, two men sat on overturned buckets, pa.s.sing a cigarette back and forth. Someone was hanging wet sheets out an upstairs window. I started across the airport parking lot, unable to keep from smiling. The King was probably at my suite. He had just realized I was gone. It was too late now. Here I was, minutes from the hangar, with Caleb so close. He was just inside that door, our packs filled, waiting for me.

I slipped into the old hangar, the planes towering above me. When I reached the back room the boxes had been moved aside, the tunnel exposed, but Jo was not there. I scanned the other end of the hangar, but there was no sign of Harper or Caleb. No maps were set out on the table. No lanterns were scattered about the floor. The light streamed in from a broken window, casting strange patterns on the concrete.

The silence was enough to raise the fine hairs on my arms. Two backpacks sat on the ground by my feet, unzipped, the contents riffled through. I knew immediately something had gone wrong. I backed out of the room. I took in the hangar-the rusted staircases that were scattered in the corners, the towering airplanes above. In the plane to the left of me, all of the shades were down except one. Something-or someone-moved inside. I turned and started toward the door, keeping my face down.

I was nearly at the exit when a familiar voice called out, echoing against the walls. "Don't move, Genevieve."

I glanced up. The first of the soldiers were exiting the airplane, their guns fixed on me. Their faces were covered in hard plastic masks. "Keep your hands where we can see them." Stark was in front, circling me at a distance.

Two more appeared from behind a staircase in the corner, while yet another emerged from the tunnel. They spread out across the hangar, moving along the concrete walls to either side of the entrance.

Stark was on me now, yanking my wrists behind my back and looping a plastic restraint around them. I kneeled down, afraid my legs might give out beneath me. I thought only of Caleb, hoping one of the dissidents had warned him of the raid.

As Stark took me toward the back room I heard footsteps nearing the door to the hangar. Someone was coming. The soldiers crouched beside the entrance, their guns in hand, waiting. Before I could act the door opened. Harper stepped inside. I saw him process the scene, just a second too late. He fell first. It happened so quickly I didn't realize he'd been shot. I just saw him lean against the doorframe, the open wound in his chest where the first bullet hit him.

I stood up from the floor. "Caleb! They're here," I shrieked, my voice strange as it left my mouth. "Turn around!"

Stark put his hand over my lips. Caleb was just rounding the corner, his face barely in view. His eyes met mine and then I heard the gun, the shot that ripped through his side. It sounded louder in the ma.s.sive concrete s.p.a.ce, ricocheting off the walls. I watched him stagger back. He lowered himself to the ground, his arm crushed beneath him, his face contorted and strange. I kneeled there, refusing to look away as he seized up, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Then the soldiers moved in, the great ma.s.s of them swallowing him whole.

forty-one.

THE JEEP MOVED QUICKLY, SPEEDING THROUGH STREETS ROPED off for the parade. Thousands of people leaned over the barricades, still cheering for their Princess, searching the route for signs of her. I was hunched over in the backseat, curled in on myself, unable to believe what had happened. My hands were sc.r.a.ped from when they'd taken me from the hangar. I'd struggled in the soldier's grip, trying to grab onto anything I could, but they'd dragged me away before I could get to Caleb.

Caleb has been shot, I told myself. I saw his face again as the bullet went through him. He was alone there, on that cold concrete floor, the blood spreading out beneath him.

We sped up the Palace's long driveway. They ushered me inside, past the marble fountains. The main floor had been emptied out for the wedding, our footsteps sounding down the hollow hall. Reginald was the only one there. He was pacing outside the elevator, that stupid notebook in his hand. He bit down on the end of his pencil.

"Stay away from me," I said, already imagining the story that would run the following day-how enemies of The New America had been caught the morning of the wedding. How the citizens were all so much safer now. "Don't even try."

"Can I have a moment with the Princess?" Reginald asked the soldiers, ignoring my comment. "She needs to be debriefed before she goes upstairs." The soldiers cut my restraints and stepped away, watching us.

"What do you want?" I asked when we were alone. I rubbed at my wrists. "Some quote about what a joy today has been?"

He rested his hand on my shoulder. His eyes darted to the soldiers, now stationed along the walls of the circular lobby. "Listen to me," he said slowly, his words barely above a whisper. His face was calm. "We don't have much time."

"What are you doing?" I tried to push him away but he came closer, his hand still on me, his fingers digging into my skin.

"It's over," he said softly. "As far as you are concerned there is no Trail, there are no more tunnels. You never met Harper, or Curtis, or any of the other dissidents. As far as you know, Caleb was working alone."

"What do you know about Caleb?"

Reginald looked down. "A lot. Harper and Caleb died today, fighting against this regime."

I shook my head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Look at me," he said, squeezing my shoulder. He didn't stop until my eyes met his. "You know me as Reginald-but others know me as Moss."

He stepped back, letting his words sink in. I stared at his face, seeing him for the first time, the man who was always scribbling in that notepad, running stories in the paper, clipping quotes to suit his needs. This was the same man who'd helped Caleb out of the labor camps, who'd helped build the dugout. He was the one who'd organized the Trail. "Caleb's dead," I repeated. A numbness spread out in my chest.

"You have to continue on as though this never happened," he continued. "You have to marry Charles."

"I don't have to do anything." I struggled free from his grip. "What will that accomplish?" The sound of cheering swelled outside the Palace's front entrance.

"You need to be here as the Princess," he whispered, his lips an inch away from my ear. "So you can kill your father."

He stared at me intently. He didn't say anything else, instead flipping open the pad and pretending to make notes of our conversation. Then he signaled the soldiers back over, following us into the elevator in complete silence.

forty-two.

WHEN I RETURNED TO MY SUITE, THE KING WAS WAITING FOR me. He stared at the wedding dress laid out on the bed, a bundle of papers clutched in his hands.

"You said you'd let him go. You showed me pictures, took me to his cell," I said, unable to contain my anger any longer. "You lied to me."

The King paced the length of the room. "I don't need to explain myself, certainly not to you. You don't understand this country. You knew about people who were building a tunnel to the outside and you didn't tell me." He turned, leveling his finger in my face. "Do you have any idea what kind of danger that would've put civilians in? Having an open pa.s.sage into the wild?"

"The soldiers shot them," I said, my voice trembling.

The King crumpled the papers in his hand. "Those men have been organizing dissidents for months, planning to bring weapons and who knows what into this City. They had to be stopped."

"Killed," I snapped, the tears hot in my eyes. "You mean killed-not *stopped.' Say what you mean."

"Do not speak to me that way." The blood rushed to his face. "I've had enough. I came here this morning, early, to bring you this," he said, throwing the bundle of papers at me. They landed on the floor. "I came to tell you how proud I was of you and the woman you're becoming." He let out a low, sorrowful laugh.

But I was barely listening, my mind instead running over the events of the morning. He'd ordered Harper and Caleb killed. But who had told him about the tunnel beneath the wall? How had Stark gotten there before me? The questions ran through my mind on an endless loop. Caleb is dead, I kept repeating, but nothing could make it feel real.

"There are nearly half a million people downstairs," he continued, "waiting for their Princess to come down the street with her father, to offer their good wishes before she is married. I will not keep them waiting." He headed to the door, his fingers pounding the keypad. "Beatrice! Come help the Princess get ready!" he yelled before disappearing down the hall.

The door slammed shut behind him. I let out a deep breath, feeling the room expand in his absence. I looked down at my hands, which burned now, my wrists red from where the restraints had been. I kept seeing Caleb, his face before he fell, the way his arm was crushed beneath him. I closed my eyes. It was too much. I knew he couldn't have survived, but the idea that he was gone, that he would never cradle my head in his hands again, never smile at me, never tease me for taking myself so seriously ...

I heard Beatrice come in, but I couldn't stop looking at the sc.r.a.ped skin on my wrists, the only proof that the last several hours had really happened. When I looked up, she was standing there, staring at a spot on the carpet.

"It was Clara, wasn't it?" I said slowly. "What did she tell them? How much do they know?"

But Beatrice was silent. When she looked up, her eyes were swollen. She kept shaking her head back and forth, mouthing the words "I'm so sorry." She finally said it aloud. "I had to."

Something about her expression frightened me. Her lips were twisted and trembling. "You had to what?"

"He told me he would kill her," she said, coming toward me, wrapping her hands around mine. "He came up early, just after you left. You weren't here. They'd discovered Caleb's empty cell. He said he would kill her if I didn't reveal where you were. I told him about the tunnel."

I pulled away, my hands shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Eve," she said, reaching out for me, trying to stroke my face. "I had to, I didn't mean-"

"Don't," I said. "Please go." She came to me again, her hand on my arm, but I slunk back. It wasn't her fault. I knew that. But I didn't want her comfort either, this person who had played a part in Caleb's death. I turned toward the window, listening to the sound of her choked sobs until they settled into silence. Finally, I heard the door close. When I was certain she was gone I turned, studying the crumpled papers on the floor.

I picked the first one up, calmed by the familiar handwriting. It was the same yellowed paper I'd carried with me since School. The old letter, the one I'd read a thousand times, was now sitting in a backpack off Route 80, outside of that warehouse. I would never see it again.

The sheet was worn around the edges. Wedding day was scrawled along the front in wobbly letters. I sat on my bed, pressing the paper between my fingers, trying to smooth out the hard crease from where he'd crumpled it in his hand.

My sweet girl, It's impossible to know if and when you will read this, where you will be or how old. In the pa.s.sing days I've imagined it many times over. The world is always as it once was. Sometimes the church doors open up to a bustling street, and you stride out, your new husband beside you. Someone helps you inside a waiting car. Other times it's just you and him and a small crowd of friends. I can see the gla.s.ses raised in your honor. And once I imagined there was no wedding-no ceremony, no big white dress, none of the tradition-just you and him lying beside each other one night and deciding that was it. From now on, you'd always be together.

Whatever circ.u.mstance it is, wherever you are, I know that you are happy. My hope is that it is a big, boundless happiness that works its way into every corner of your life. Know that I am with you now, as I've always been.

I love you, I love you, I love you, Mom I folded the letter in my lap. I didn't move. I sat there on the bed, my face swollen and pink, until I heard the King's voice, as if startling me from a dream. "Genevieve," he said, his voice stern. "It's time."