Collapsed: Book One of The Illusion of Truth, page 19
Someone grabs my arm, and in my confusion I have no idea who it is until I swing around and see it’s Dr. Pierce.
“You’ll be hearing from me again,” Dr. Pierce snarls to the man.
He chuckles lightly. “You and I both know that this is the best scenario for both of us. The entire debacle will be swept under the rug and your family can come out on top. Defending Scarlets . . . that’s all we want, right, Dr. Pierce? Even better, you have a Cobalt Premier Worker who has gone above and beyond. She has proved her loyalty right here. Everything can go back to normal.”
Normal? What is that? Me knowing for the rest of my life that I killed my best friend to save myself?
We are in too public a spot for anything to be said otherwise. But when it comes down to it, the commander is right. Dr. Pierce has an obligation to defend the Scarlet way of life, and truly, how does it benefit him to do anything else? It doesn’t. Even if for some reason he wanted to.
Without a word Dr. Pierce waves me toward him and I force my legs to move, but I barely remember the way out of the building. When we finally emerge, I squint at the biting sun and, no longer able to control myself, retch onto the sidewalk. Horrified, I stare at what I just did, but Dr. Pierce grabs my arm and pulls me from it.
He curses the people inside while he taps on his device. “Just leave it for them to clean up.”
Before I can say anything a small, gray auto-loaner vehicle pulls up next to the sidewalk.
Dr. Pierce ushers me around to the passenger side and loads me in. “Try not to vomit inside since I’ll be charged for the damage.”
I nod and the door closes. Dr. Pierce makes his way around to the driver’s side, gets in, and immediately programs our destination into the driver’s console. When he’s done, the car moves forward and we pull away from the sentry station.
Slowly I pull my safety belt across my lap and shift my entire body toward the window so Dr. Pierce can’t see my face. I pull my legs up and wrap my arms across my torso.
Violated. Numb. Every ounce of me can’t escape it.
I don’t think it could be worse than if that sentry in the Tenement had actually had his way with me in the back alley.
Dr. Pierce says something to me, but I close my eyes and completely block any sensation from the outside.
This can’t be the life I allow myself to lead. I can no longer permit others to take advantage of my propensity for compliance. Mayor Lark was right. My expectations for this place were too high. I’m grateful for Dr. Pierce’s attempted rescue, but Carmine will never be my home.
My home is back in the Tenement . . . with Cobalts whom I love and who love me back. Mama, Papa . . . Kalib.
But they don’t belong in the Tenement either . . . no one does.
Chapter 26
I don’t wait even a second to exit the car after Dr. Pierce parks it in front of the house. By this point my mind is nearly soup, and instead of walking around to the staff entrance, I head straight for the front door.
The lawn is peaceful again, and by its current state no one would even know that the place was filled with sentry vehicles and troops this morning.
All for me . . . a seventeen-year-old girl who barely even knows how to fight back.
I half expect someone to be out here to greet us, maybe Jax . . . or Isaiah, as Dr. Pierce did contact him on the way to let him know we were coming. I was at least coherent enough to hear part of the conversation.
Before I reach the door, it flies open to reveal a frazzled-looking Mrs. Pierce, her skin pale and expression tense.
For less than a second, she glares at me in such a way that if she had fire in her eyes, she’d probably use it to destroy me, but then she turns her attention on her husband. “Gavin!” The woman marches past me, a fury of red silk, and I twist to watch her display.
Behind him the loaner car drives away on its own and out the open iron gates. Dr. Pierce’s shoulders are hunched, likely under the weight of what happened at the station and everything prior to that. But upon seeing his wife, he instantly straightens and puffs out his chest. “Inside the house,” he says before she can get another word out.
As if he’s referring to me, I scurry inside and jog down the foyer toward the stairs. No staff is to be seen. Since I know it would be hard to stay distant, all I can guess is that Mrs. Pierce sent everyone away for the afternoon or at least relegated them downstairs. Too many prying eyes for her taste.
Not that I blame her. I’m glad they’re not around either.
Just as I reach the stairs, the door slams and I flip around to the Pierces.
“What are you thinking bringing that filthy Cobalt back into this house, Gavin?” she screams, maybe not even realizing that I’m still here. Likely she doesn’t care.
The words sear my heart and I want to hear none of what’s about to be said, but for some reason I can’t tear myself away. I slam my back up against the nearest wall, slightly blocked from view by a column, and slump down to the floor.
Dr. Pierce doesn’t back down. Instead he advances, head held high. “Mariell, you know very well why I did what needed to be done.”
She takes a step back on her very high heels but still meets his eyes, her expression cold.
“There are people out there trying to destroy us. Our status is always fragile, and one wrong move . . . one too many rumors that are believed will cause everything”—he throws his arms into the air, palms out—“everything to come crumbling down around us. And what was I supposed to do? Let it be assumed that we had a traitor to the Scarlet government living in our home? I had no choice in this matter, and you know it.”
“Well? Is she a traitor?” Her tone is hard, accusing.
“No. But someone is. Someone is watching our home and reporting on what they’re seeing here.”
My belly roils again, and I wrap my arms around my middle and squeeze to keep any scant contents left in my stomach from coming up again. Who is watching us . . . .me?
“There are always watchful eyes, Gavin. Her just being here is putting us at risk,” Mrs. Pierce seethes. “This was never something that we should have agreed to, and the problems are not going to stop today.”
Dr. Pierce lets out an exasperated breath. “You saw with your own eyes what is happening in the city . . . the protests against President Nelson’ handling of the Tenements are only getting worse. So far, the powers that be have mostly been able to keep it from the news, but troubles are escalating, and deflection is not going to work for much longer. As part of his team it is my personal responsibility to ensure that the people continue to support him. And solidarity on the CPW program is one way to do this. It’s my duty to stave off anything that could put the administration or our way of life at risk.”
Mrs. Pierce scoffs. “Our home will never be safe as long as she is here.”
“Until the Tenements have been put out of people’s minds once again, we are not safe.”
Tears burn at my eyes listening to him speak. I’ve put too much trust in Dr. Pierce, gotten too comfortable around him. Even though she probably didn’t mean to, Ellie once referred to me as like a possession . . . and I’m little more than that to Dr. Pierce. I’m a means to an end. He may not hate me, maybe even likes me to some extent . . . but seeing me or any other Cobalts as real people? That’s a stretch.
He reaches out and places his hands on her shoulders. “I must put my foot down. Miss Hawkins stays.”
Mrs. Pierce’s tense body relaxes slightly, and she steps toward her husband and places her head on his chest. Dr. Pierce embraces his wife and runs his hands over her back.
It’s the first time since I’ve arrived that I’ve seen them together in any sort of display of affection.
“I was so frightened,” Mrs. Pierce says. “So was Eleanor.”
Dr. Pierce draws back from her slightly. “Where is she now?”
“Upstairs. I had the doctor give her something so she could sleep.”
My mind races concerning Ellie. I peel myself from the wall, stand as quietly as I can, and head up the stairs to my room.
Immediately I make my way into Ellie’s room from mine. The shades and curtains are drawn, making the room almost dark, but I can still make out the form of someone in bed. Thankfully, Mrs. Pierce was telling the truth. Ellie is tucked in and fast asleep with her dolly clasped in her arms. I walk to the edge of the bed and reach down to stroke her hair.
When I do, she babbles something unintelligible and rolls over.
Talking to her about this morning is something I’ll have to deal with, but not right now. I shuffle back into my room and quietly close the internal door, leaving her to sleep. As I do, I hear her main door open and footsteps tap against the floor. Likely her father checking on her.
He seems to have forgotten about caring for my injuries, but at least he still cares for his daughter’s health.
I creep into my bathroom and turn on the shower. Likely I could get in trouble for taking a shower at this time, but at this point I don’t even care. I need the water to wash the day away . . . if only for a few minutes.
Moments later the water is warm, and I’ve stripped off all my clothes. I step in and immediately sit on the floor. The water streams over my back and soaks my hair as I clutch at myself, and finally I’m able to let tears flow where no one can see them.
What am I going to do? If I do nothing, Kalib probably dies. Why would Scarlets spend taxpayer Coinage on housing a Cobalt in prison?
Helpless, I let out a sob and stand. I turn off the water, exit the shower, and towel off as I return to my room. No sooner do I sit on my bed than there is a knock at my door. I swing my head toward the sound and my heart races. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. My Flexx slides under my door.
“No need to come out immediately, but a late lunch is out in the hall for you when you want it.” Isaiah’s voice comes from the other side. “And Dr. Pierce has instructed you to take the rest of the day off to recover.”
I blow out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
The gentle taps of Isaiah’s footsteps recede in the hall. When I can no longer hear him, I rise, get dressed in fresh clothes, and open the door.
On a tray has to be one of the nicest meals I’ve had since I arrived, other than the picnic in the garden: a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. On the side is a large cookie laced with huge chunks of chocolate and a glass of fresh, cold milk.
The sight of it nearly makes me burst into tears again. Isaiah must have prepared it himself, or at least specifically requested it, because there is no way the kitchen staff would have provided such a meal if they knew it was only for me.
I grab the tray of food, retrieve my Flexx from the floor, and sit at my desk.
Despite not being hungry I force myself to spoon up a bite of the still-warm soup. The tangy, sweet flavor explodes in my mouth and warms my insides on the way down.
Why Isaiah is so kind to me I still don’t understand. In many ways he goes above and beyond. But today I won’t question it too much and simply enjoy what he provided.
The meal clears my head slightly, and when I’m done, I tap at my Flexx. As I so often do, I enter the code and let the device read my fingerprint.
Up pops the icon for the science curriculum as well as the one I’d forgotten about . . . access to online information.
Today I click it, and up pops a search bar. I pause and think for a moment about what to search, and then it dawns on me.
Robinson, head of the Cobalt Premier Workforce program. Kalib told me to contact his employer if something happened to him.
But then I stop. If Kalib was taken, they would likely be under scrutiny, too . . . just like the Pierces. Commander Treviño had railroaded me into signing the forms to defer guilt from the Pierces . . . with the CPW being so important, he might do the same to the Robinsons too.
I hover my finger over the search box for a moment. My choices are few . . . I either trust Kalib this once and do what he asked me . . . or I do nothing.
Before I can stop myself, I type his information into the box. The first result is an image of a dark-skinned man with salt and pepper hair, smiling into the camera. Cornell Robinson.
Underneath that is a biography, but none of that matters, so I skip over it for now. A few results down is an article about him living in the Grand Oak Estates and a virtual tour of his home. Apparently last year a gala was held there. As I click through the article, multiple photos come up from the event, showing happy, rich Scarlets dressed in fancy clothing, even fancier than normal.
Mr. Robinson is among them, showing off a luxe house that I’m pretty sure is even bigger than the Pierces’.
This is the man that Kalib said I’m supposed to contact? He looks just as entrenched in enjoying his place in Scarlet society as any others . . . not someone who wants to help me get my friend out of custody.
And even if he is willing to help, what if he’s dealing with the same issues as the Pierces . . . is there anything he can even do?
I shake my head and push aside all the questions. For once in my life I just need to listen to Kalib. It’s a huge risk, more than eating a piece of stolen chocolate ever could be. But if I don’t do this, I won’t be able to live with myself.
I scroll down further, and there in black and white is the address of Mr. Robinson’s home. I copy and paste it into the search bar and compare it to my current location.
Only 2.4 miles.
And after dark . . . I’m going to find it.
Chapter 27
The rain started at 11 p.m. and still floods from the sky.
Why did the first rain I’ve experienced outside the Tenement have to be tonight?
But I don’t let it stop me. I sneak from the house just before midnight and find myself wriggling under that old wooden, vine-covered door in the back wall of the garden. It does lead out to green space between the Pierces and the nearest neighbor.
Muddied, I trudge down the soaked streets as negative thoughts invade my mind and try to make me turn back. The reality is that I have no idea what my going to Mr. Robinson is going to accomplish. He must already know about Kalib’s incarceration, and I’m sure he’ll have heard about my signing a confession earlier today saying that I knew my friend was involved with something illegal.
Finding Mr. Robinson could be completely fruitless and only end up putting me in more danger. But it’s what Kalib told me to do, and I can’t seem to put the thought out of my mind.
I try to keep my Flexx protected from the downpour as the map on the screen guides me down the darkened streets of Grand Oak Estates. With the rain pelting me and pouring down my face, it’s the longest 2.4 miles I’ve ever walked . . . and I did a lot of walking in the Tenement. Not to mention that just by coming I could be sealing my own fate.
What if Kalib was wrong? What if I get caught along the way or trying to return to my room? My pulse roars in my ears as I push myself forward and force the negative thoughts from my mind.
Each house I pass is on a large plot of land, mostly gated like the Pierces’. But it’s not like I can see much of them in the dark and the storm. One benefit of the rain is that no one is on the road. Everyone seems to be tucked safe inside to avoid the dangers of the storm.
I pull my Flexx out again from underneath my drenched jacket, barely protecting the device from the moisture, and the screen indicates that my destination is close . . . only two more houses.
When I arrive, I’m met by two large gates. I grab for the slippery bars and pull, but they don’t budge. Of course they’re locked. Determined to get in, I gaze up at the blockade that must be at least ten feet tall. Also surrounding the grounds is a sturdy brick wall that must be just as high. There could be some sort of workaround like the old wooden door. But I’m never going to find something like that in this storm.
My heart drops as the continued downpour floods over my body. I waver my attention around to see if there is any possible way I can get up higher and scale over them, but there’s nothing. Of course not; they don’t want intruders.
Completely discouraged by my lack of options and stupidity for even thinking that this might work, I sink down into a squat and run my hands through my loose hair. After a moment I gaze up to the side of the gate and spot a comm.
You can trust Mr. Robinson. Kalib’s words round in my mind. But can I trust his entire household, since if I use that comm I have no idea who I’ll be connected with? I force myself to stand and walk to the device, then touch my finger to the screen, hoping to connect to someone.
Identification: Tenly Hawkins. The words flash on the screen.
My eyes widen at my name, but before I can bolt, the gate suddenly creaks open.
I twist my neck from side to side to look around for anyone. No one is there but me, and the gate continues opening.
Just to get off the road, I jog through it. Past the driveway I spot the silhouette of a person exiting the house. My heart picks up even faster, and my resolve wavers between continuing and running back into the street. But they already know I was here. What do I do?
The old me wouldn’t even be here.
But the old me died this morning.
Gulping down my fear, I place one foot in front of the other and continue toward the house. As I get closer, I see that the person is a woman, holding out a dry blanket under the eaves of the covered porch. She wears a serious expression, but not angry. I straighten my back and pick up my pace.
“Tenly?” she asks, and under the light I see that she’s the same woman who escorted Kalib from the CPW headquarters after we arrived in Carmine. She’s older and a tad heavyset, white haired.
“Yes,” I admit as clearly as I can with my heart racing as it is.
“I’m Patricia Green, Mr. Robinson’s head of staff. He thought you might come.” She smiles warmly and holds out the blanket for me to snuggle into.
Confused by Mrs. Green’s words, I still gladly oblige her offer and step into the warmth. The soft fabric envelops me, but instantly my teeth begin to chatter.
