Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
IMPOSSIBLE OR IMPROBABLE
It’s literal chaos in the community center as everyone falls into their practiced roles and rallies to help. Yet I stay exactly where I am as people rush around me, because in this drill I’m the one needing help, which is a role I never, ever considered I’d be filling.
We’ve practiced this a few times, as bad things happen to good people, and despite what the government says, the separation between the others and the pure isn’t so black and white. Particularly on the streets and in our communities, where we’ve helped hundreds of vulnerable people.
The lights stay off, and over the pounding of my pulse racing in panic, I hear snippets of conversation confirming that they’re running with the water pipe protocol.
The senior community staffers have situations already set up as a cover should any of the people that use our service emerge as an other.
I still can’t get around the fact of being one, but apparently they can.
As my work colleagues—my friends—rush to do what needs doing, they’re kind and supportive, stopping to share a reassuring word or two or simply wrapping me in a hug, but they’re slightly militaristic in their approach.
I am the situation.
I can’t get over the fact that I’m one of those people in need.
And they’ve pulled out one of the big protocols, which confirms I’m not dreaming, but also that the situation we’re in is dire.
We’ve helped people, getting them aid before, and I’ve been involved in parts of those operations, but as far as I know, this is the first time an other has been outed at the community center.
It’s why they’ve pulled out the big guns.
When the government officials conduct their investigation as to why the centers computers went offline—which they will—using the old water pipes bursting and the inundation that followed blowing the computers, will be a realistic smokescreen to hide what happened.
“It’s lucky we weren’t linked to the mainframe,” Williem says for easily the tenth time since both he and Mr. Kenney leaped into action.
Rio, one of our computer geniuses, who hides in plain sight as a cleaner, appears deep in thought as he looks at Williem again.
“I’m positive the cyber loop will work. I’m mimicking your drive and have the data from today, which we’ll also add to the firewall Maxine and I have built.
God, their control and fearmongering drives me fucking crazy.
Damn, it’s motivating too. We’re really close to having everything in place.
Good job today too. You guys took less than four seconds to activate the procedure.
In our profiling, we allowed for eight, so we’ll have extra play in the actual mainframe. ”
“If we can give the government a longer one-finger salute, you know we’re in,” someone says as they pass the door. “That change to the law, making notification of others being found instant, is appalling.”
“Yeah, well, we all share that opinion, don’t we?
All right, in light of this morning, I’m positive we throw in a few dummy plays on the government’s own system.
Maxine and I will duplicate the feed, alter it, and then it can form the basis of our protocol for a real-time event once we’re locked in and back online. ”
“It’s not like the government has the money to deal with power surges or water mains bursting, not when they’re investing in violence instead.
The aging facilities that the city should be maintaining gives us a good place to hide,” Maxine adds as she races past. She skids to a stop when she sees me.
“Kid, you’re going to be fine. You know what to do when you get out of the gate; run and don’t stop until you’re at Nellor’s Crossing. ”
Nellor’s Crossing is a dot on a map made by a man nearly twenty years ago who was searching for possible safe havens.
He evaded enforcers, successfully hid out in the wildlands, then snuck back into the city a few months later.
Supposedly, where he marked on the map is full of places to hide, has fresh, clean running water, and an abundance of food sources.
Considering we haven’t had any complaints yet, it’s safe to say what he said is true.
Or the others have eaten them, and that’s why we’ve never heard or seen any people that cross to the other side.
And now I’m going to be one of them.
A backpack gets dropped at my feet, and I know someone explains what’s packed inside, but if I had to repeat what it was, I couldn’t. My own bag, along with any of my things that have been lying around the community center are spread out on the floor too.
“Go through and take only what you need, Maya. I know it’s going to be hard, but you need to travel light,” Mr. Kenney tells me gently while shining a flashlight down on the floor where everything is spread.
“Shit, all my belongings.”
“We’ll get someone to pose as you for the movers. Once they deliver, we will relocate all your things to a safe lockup.”
“I’m not coming back, am I?”
“Probably not.”
I sink forward on my knees; a heavy cloud settling around my thoughts. Everything I had of my happy childhood with my parents is pretty much gone in one trip down the stairs. I close my eyes and see my parents so clearly; I hear them in my thoughts too, and I know what they’d say.
“All the furniture and appliances can go. Any food or perishables can go too. Same with the linen, Dad’s tools and all Mom’s cooking stuff.
They’d want others to have them, hopefully they get as much from them as we did.
I mean, it’s not a lot, but it was enough.
Please keep my pencil case, though. I can’t remember what box it’s in, or if I even put it in a box or left it on the table or hid it in my bag, but I need that pencil case. ”
Mr. Kenney squats behind me, rubbing my shoulders. “You have so much of their fight and generosity in you, Maya. I’ll find your pencil case, store any photos, and all the smaller things for you. We will see each other again. I know it.”
If he notices my hands shaking and the tears tracking down my face, as I decide what I need and what I don’t, he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t hurry me along, even though behind us its pure chaos. He just keeps rubbing my back and telling me everything is going to be okay.
Once I decide on what to take and we’ve packed everything into a new backpack, the noise and pace of what is happening around us comes back online along with a growing sense of urgency.
“Are you ready?” he says, leading me out of Williem’s consulting room.
I go to shake my head, but a small twitch of pain makes me use words to answer him instead. “No. Not at all. But yes too. I know I’ll be fine, I just don’t want to leave.”
My words are kind of honest; I mean, I’m mostly sure I’ll be okay. The thought of being in the wildlands is completely overwhelming and terrifying, but so is the thought of being forever hunted by enforcers. I honestly think I have a better chance of survival outside of the city I’ve grown up in.
At the back door, a delivery truck sits idling.
Its door is open, giving me the chance to see where I’ll be sitting or lying.
I feel a bit na?ve, not realizing how prepared the community center is for these situations.
I’ve been involved, and I knew the center helped people who were displaced, but they contain how widespread their assistance is by only involving people in small parts of the operation.
“I know that look. Plausible deniability is a strategy that’s been used throughout history and will continue to be once we are both gone from this world,” Mr. Kenney says.
“Our aim has always been to protect and keep people safe, and that includes our staff. Not knowing everything in its entirety is a lot safer. And it doesn’t discount how proud I am to have watched you traverse the past few years.
You’ve got something magical inside you, Maya, and I’ve never needed a test to see that.
Trust who you are, and everything will work out. ”
I’ve always known I wasn’t au fait with everything behind the scenes, and I never wanted to be.
I just wanted to do my part in helping those in need.
There’s certainly nothing in his admission to get upset at, and what stands out most is that he’s seen our friendship similarly to how I have too.
I’ll be forever grateful for our paths crossing.
We move to hug each other. “Find a place to call home and take the time to look up at the stars. They’re the same ones I’ll be looking at, the same ones your parents always did too.”
I squeeze harder. “I’m going to find a way to come back one day so I can see Ted and make sure someone fixes those bloody stairs. Thank you for everything.”
I push out of his arms and climb into the cubby space under where the boxes sit in the van.
With a final wave, Mr. Kenney puts my bags near my feet and lowers the lid.
There’s a snick, as a latch falls into place, and then I hear the boxes being moved around.
My heart nearly beats out of my chest as panic and fear crash through me, making me feel like I’m about to pass out.
The darkness doesn’t help at all, and as I’m lying down my head throbs, but this discomfort and mild suffering is nothing compared to what the enforcers would do.
Instead of getting caught up in what I can’t currently change, I force myself to rest. I jerk awake when the engine under me cuts off and the sound of footsteps echo.
The latch near my head clicks undone, and then, like when they hid me away, someone unpacks the boxes on top of my hiding spot.
When the lid cracks open, I see the lights in the van are off and the sky is dark, hiding the driver’s face.
I’ve seen him around, but I don’t know his name and he doesn’t introduce himself.