“Are you in charge?” I asked it directly, and it startled a laugh from him—rich, full, and unguarded.
“Do I seem like a guy who’d be in charge?” he asked, and then sobered. “No, I’m not in charge. We don’t have that kind of relationship here. There’s no dictator; no government, exactly. We have an industry proctor who deals with work schedules, but that’s mostly paperwork. Our food proctor works out farm and husbandry details and does the menus. We have a services proctor for everything else.”
“How do you pick the proctors?”
“We all used to take turns,” he said. “But certain people have a talent for administration, so right now Violet’s our industry proctor, because she’s great at scheduling and making sure everyone gets varied work and rest. We’re still looking for someone to want the food and services proctor roles full-time; until then, we all take a week at it. Trust me, it works out. We’re not perfect, and we do have conflicts from time to time, but surprisingly few, really. We don’t need jails. We don’t need courts, or lawyers, or drug rehab.” Will hesitated, then shook his head to get long hair away from his eyes. “On the outside, I was a mess. I had a meth habit. I never fit in. Here, it’s all different, Laura. You can just be yourself here.”
That was ironic, considering what being myself meant, but at a certain level I actually craved the certainty I heard in his voice. He’d found his paradise. In a sense, I felt that under other circumstances it might have been mine as well.
But not for the children.
Pearl was the unseen cancer at the heart of this seemingly healthy community, and I hated her for it with a sudden, breathtaking intensity. Will would be broken in this, and so many others who didn’t deserve to have their dreams shattered.
It would be as much my fault as hers, or they would see it that way; they would see me as a betrayer of the worst kind.
Even now I could feel the early echoes of the pain I would cause.
“Laura?” Will was looking at me in concern. I forced a smile.
“I don’t know who I am,” I said, again quite honestly. “How can I really be myself?”
“You’ll find your way,” he said. “We all find our own ways.”
Chapter 10
THERE WAS A SURPRISING meditative quality to doing laundry; no mechanized washers and dryers, but there was water heated in the center boiler, and tubs, and I was part of a team of four who filled the tubs, dunked and scrubbed the clothing, rinsed, wrung, and hung it up to dry in the crisp sunlight. The smell of the detergent—homemade—was strong and a little astringent, but the warm water felt soothing on my skin, and so did the sun. I was surprised when the midday meal break came; we’d done almost the entire camp’s laundry in a single morning. Rhona, one of the four working with me, explained that we would leave the drying until twilight, then take in the clothes for folding and redistribution. It seemed a steady, simple system. A few of the clothes had names inked in them, because they were especially sized or tailored for their owners, but most were interchangeable shirts and trousers and skirts. Bandannas of various colors signaled seniority within the groups, though there were only a few in for washing.
Lunch was spent sitting in the shade with a small picnic delivered from the food hall. Again, I felt that sense of ease, of peace, of a quiet and predictable life.
No one struggled here. No one felt isolated, afraid, unloved, unwanted.
Not even me.
It took three days of laundry service before I was moved to another duty ... animals this time, cleaning up after the chickens, pigs, and horses. The sheep were grazed out on a hill, with two shepherds to guard them; the cows seemed placid and well fed as they grazed downhill.
There were two horses, both big rawboned beasts who assisted in plowing and cart pulling; neither was young, but they were healthy and well treated, and greeted me with the same placid friendliness as all the other animals. I liked the horses the best, I thought. Karl was right about the chickens, though the pigs charmed me with their bright, inquisitive ways.
I saw Becca occasionally, but Will was constantly in the periphery as well—not shadowing me, but working his days in the same spaces. It felt comfortable with him, when we had duties in common and chatted together.
It wasn’t until the third day of animal duty that I realized I had failed to reach out to Luis, or to Agent Rostow. I felt a sense of dread, in fact, in contacting the FBI at all. It brought an unpleasant, gritty sense of reality to the illusion I was truly beginning to enjoy.
I kept it brief and to the point. Nothing to report yet. Children are not their own in most cases. No evidence yet of weapons or abductions.
It occurred to me, as I used that minor amount of power to deliver the report, that I had not felt the need to draw power from Luis for several long days, because I hadn’t expended much, except the slight outflow to maintain my current appearance. When I closed my eyes and focused on him, I felt the ghost of his presence, so far away. After hesitating for what seemed an eternity, I tugged just slightly on that anchor between us, and after a moment, felt a slight popping of my eardrums before I heard Luis’s voice echo in my head, Where are you? Everything okay? The reproduction of his voice was flawless, so good I could hear the concern in it.
Fine, I whispered back. It felt intimate, this contact, but left me wanting more. Aching for it, in fact. And you? Ibby?
We’re all right.
Any sign of trouble there?
Not so far. It’s quiet. If there is a traitor here, I can’t spot him. Cass, what the hell did you get yourself into?
This has to be done, I said. To safeguard Ibby. And you. And all of them. She’s here. She’s going to be vulnerable. I can do this, Luis. It’s our best chance.
Luis hesitated, then said, Probably useless to tell you to be careful, right?
I feel safe here, I said, before I could stop it. This time Luis’s hesitation was much longer.
Hang on, chica. You need to check yourself. You shouldn’t feel safe. You should be scared out of your mind, because you’re not safe. Don’t forget it, okay? This ain’t like you. You’re not the joiner type.
I joined the Wardens, I said. I joined you.
Wardens ain’t there, Cass. I’m not there.
Will was, but I didn’t want to bring Will up at all, not even obliquely. I’ll be careful, I said. No one here seems dangerous.
It’s always that way, Luis said grimly, before somebody shoots you in the back. I know we didn’t part ways too well, Cass, but—but I love you. I care, all right? I care what happens to you. Please. Don’t let your guard down.
I won’t, I promised, but even as I said it, I knew I was lying to him. I already had let my guard down, and I didn’t know how to raise it again. I didn’t want to raise it again.
I felt too safe here. Too much a part of things.
I fell asleep soon after, to the soft breathing and snoring of the women around me.
And Luis was right ... I should have taken more care.
I had slept deeply, and dreamlessly, for several nights, but that had turned out to be only a prelude to the nightmare—the silence before the start of the play.
I came out of the restful darkness to realize that I was standing on a rocky shelf on a mountain, with the frozen-cold wind rippling fragile cloth draperies around me, in the shades of storm clouds. My skin was ice-white, and my long hair whipped like a silk banner in the fierce gusts.