“But he might not be. That’s why you can’t whisper a word of this to Miesha.”
“Of course. What about Miesha’s baby? Do they know what happened to her?”
The baby? We never talked about her and I never asked. “There was no mention of a baby. I assume she died in the fire.”
Jenna sighs. I know she’s become very fond of Miesha. And having her own daughter—and almost losing her—probably makes her understand Miesha’s pain in ways that I can never begin to. A flash of shame hits me that I never even asked about something that would be so important to Miesha. It’s times like this that I hate the divide that time has created between us. Jenna’s a mother. A woman. Our last conversations echo in my head. I may look like the Jenna you knew so long ago, but I’m lifetimes from that girl.… Tell me, Locke! What are you? A boy? A man? Something else?… You need to find out.
My fingers curl into my palm. A fist. I want to erase the years and events with one quick blow.
Jenna gives me quick updates on Miesha’s progress—still walking with a cane but much more stable. The daily exercises to strengthen her damaged muscles are helping. The herb garden I built is flourishing, and Kayla misses me. And finally she asks if there’s something she can do to help.
“Not without getting me into deep trouble with Carver. I wasn’t supposed to call you. He’s afraid the Secretary might track my calls once I’m on his radar.”
“How could he do that? It’s quite illegal and he’s—”
“Keeping secret prisoners is illegal. If he’s doing one, the other isn’t much of a reach. That’s why I’m talking to you on a disposable.”
We hear the one-minute warning beep on the phone tab and our words become hurried overlapping last reminders.
Say hi to Miesha and Allys. Bone too.
Try to call me again.
And Kayla, give her a hug for me.
As soon as you can.
I miss you, Jenna.
We know you’re where you need to be.
And tell Allys the chocolate peach was gone in the first five minutes.
Be careful, Locke.
Always.
And one more thing, this girl Raine. Be careful about collateral damage, even for a noble cause. She’s only a girl.
I wi—
The phone goes dead. Our time has run out. Like it always seems to.
I close my eyes, crumpling the phone tab in my fist.
“Hey. You gotta move. We bring supplies in this way.”
A kid looking around a stack of boxes in his arms waits for me to move. I leave, squeezing past him, and throw the tab into a trash can I pass out on the market mall.
Collateral damage. What does Jenna think I’m doing? And talk about collateral damage? What does she think I was for 260 years? Kara and I were the price of progress. And I’m still paying that price.
I would never hurt Raine, not the way I’ve been hurt, but nothing is going to stop me from getting this Favor done, one way or another. I’m not going to carry illegal ID forever and this is one step to get me where I want to be.
I pass a basket of the government issue charity coats near a recycle chute. The small cylinders that contain each coat look dusty and old, which isn’t surprising. Most citizens won’t touch them and a Non-pact could never pick one up here because it’s restricted public space. I remember the first time I put one on and saw my reflection in the train station window. I saw someone I didn’t recognize. Someone I needed to be. Someone dark and dangerous.
I reach down and grab one of the coat cylinders from the basket and throw it into my pack. I know I can’t wear it, but I want it just the same, maybe as a talisman like the green glass of Liberty, a reminder of why I’m here in the first place.
Carver calls twice about nothing in particular, just checking on me. It’s clear he’s on edge when he sees I’m not at the apartment, but he doesn’t lose his cool. He never seems to. Everything about him seems neatly tucked and squared away. Still, I see the hunger in his face again. The eagerness. That he can’t hide. I guess the things you want the most aren’t so easy to disguise. I need to remember that.