The young girls, in the dorm.
The woman, with her legs in stirrups.
“They’ve made a baby farm,” she whispered.
“They mean to populate this entire place with outliers,” Dor said. “They’re using outliers to make embryos, and sterilizing everyone else.”
“They can’t-I don’t know, make a vaccine, like Evangeline said?”
Dor shrugged. “Sure, maybe-if they had all the time in the world, equipment, the best scientists. But selective breeding-that’s easy to do-hell, look at history.”
“But who would-I mean, there aren’t enough outliers…”
“All they need is donor eggs and sperm-it doesn’t take all that many outliers to produce those. They create the embryos, then use the youngest, healthiest girls to incubate them. The babies get taken away to be raised by the Rebuilder leaders, and the girls keep on breed-”
“Oh, God…”
“And they took Sammi there. Cass…she’s only fourteen.”
In her arms, Ruthie stirred, her body soft and warm against hers. Her baby, her life. She would never have brought Ruthie into this world if she knew what it was going to become. And now the Rebuilders had made it worse. They meant to doctor up embryos in a lab and grow them inside little girls-prisoners-only to rip them away before they could even hold the babies they’d given life to.
A memory flashed of the day Ruthie was born. It had been an easy labor, made all the easier because Ruthie had been early and small. In the midst of her labor pains Cass had sobbed because she believed that if only she hadn’t been drinking before she knew she was pregnant, in those early weeks, she could have carried Ruthie to term. In her third trimester she had begun dreaming that her baby was born dead, a shriveled and wounded thing, doomed by her demons.
The doctor on duty had been kind enough; one of the nurses wiped the tears from her face with a cool cloth. But it wasn’t until Ruthie had been placed, pink and wriggling and healthy, on her chest that Cass finally believed. And in that moment everything changed.
She’d been thinking of giving her baby up for adoption, had met with the social workers already and begun the paperwork. She knew she wasn’t ready, or worthy. But when Ruthie lay in her arms and Cass heard her cry for the first time, she knew that everything good and worthy in her life would, until the day she died, revolve around this tiny person. That redemption was possible. That she could be someone who mattered. And that God had given her this chance and she must not squander it.
Her first words to Ruthie, whispered so softly that the doctors and nurses did not hear, that no one save her baby girl would ever hear, were, “You’re mine, and I am yours.”
Here in Colima, they were taking newborns from girls’ bodies, leave them hurting and bereft, only to impregnate them again and again. She thought of Sammi, that beautiful girl, the dusting of freckles on her nose, her glossy ponytail. Cass would offer her own body, give away her own eggs, if it would save even a single one of the girls from such a fate-but as long as the Rebuilders survived, all would be in danger.
Dor cupped her chin with his free hand. “Cass. Look at me.”
So she did. She looked at him as though for the very first time, into his black eyes, the hard planes of his face. This was a man she’d used and who had used her. She’d blamed him for things that were not his fault and sought from him things that were not his to give. She’d clung to him and run with him, and tonight she’d nearly ended his journey before he got Sammi back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. She wanted to say she should never have come, but that too would be a lie; she had to be with Smoke, and Smoke was here.
It was Smoke who should never have left, but she finally understood that without seeking vengeance Smoke would have withered and died from within. He had been willing to trade his life for those that burned the library, and he had succeeded.
Perhaps he was ready to die. Perhaps, in his brief lucid moments, he even
It might have been his dying dream, but Cass intended to prove him wrong.
“We’ll all get out,” she said to Dor, but this promise was meant for Smoke.
32
CASS DOUBTED DOR KNEW THAT THE PLACE HE’D left them had once been a wisteria arbor.
Now the vines were little more than sticks. Their leaves had fallen and their delicate branches snapped. It wasn’t ideal cover, but it had the advantage of being close to the Tapp Clinic, down a service road at the edge of the wide campus lawn. Dor had propped Smoke up so that his head rested on a swell in the recently landscaped earth that somehow made her think of Gloria’s grave mound.
As Dor slipped away into the predawn, Cass sat cross-legged and held Ruthie in her lap and took Smoke’s hand, hot with fever, into her own and thought about all the dead in the world, how there could never be enough memorials, enough trees planted, enough marble stones to stand for everyone. Time passed.
Far off to the east, the first faint glow of morning appeared at the horizon, and the stars began to dim. Cass thought about the fact that these were the same stars that studded the sky over the world Before; they would continue to shine whether the world renewed itself or failed. They were the same stars that witnessed her birth and the ones that would shine on the night of her death, whether it was this day or one many years from now, and in theses thoughts she found comfort.
They were wedged in a narrow space between the wall of a classroom building and the latticed arbor twined with dead vines, sitting on a bed of landscaping bark. Few sounds reached them in their hiding spot-a machine starting up somewhere several buildings away, the crunch of gravel underfoot as people passed by across the lawn once or twice, guards doing their security detail.
Once the wall was completed, there would be little reason for guards to roam the campus. Only the highest levels of the Rebuilders were armed. The rest-the newcomers, the workers, the baby makers and children-were powerless, incapable of revolt or even posing an inconvenience. Already, as the community was still being built, it relied on order: schedules and timetables and hierarchies, weights and measures and zero tolerance in judgments. Cass didn’t doubt that, for many, this was welcome. For every person who chafed under the Rebuilder rule, there were probably several more who were so grateful for the shelter, the promise of safety, that any tradeoffs they made in terms of personal freedom seemed like a bargain.
Even, she thought with a shudder, the baby farm. As horrified as she was by the prospect of human eggs being systematically harvested, fertilized and implanted, she could imagine that for some women the trade-off might feel like a reasonable one. And there was no doubt that the first-generation outliers, even though they were little more than glorified breeding machines, would enjoy freedoms and benefits that others would not.
Cass brushed Smoke’s hair, damp against his fevered skin, away from his face. She had adjusted his filthy dressings as well as she could, retying the torn bandages and wiping away as much grit and dried blood as she could. Now that they were outdoors he began to shiver. She took off her own jacket and covered him with it. She wore only the nightgown, her underwear ripped and abandoned back in the closet, but she was warm enough, overheated by exertion and adrenaline.
Smoke hadn’t woken from his fever coma, but occasionally he muttered pieces of words and once she thought she heard him say her name.
More time passed. Ruthie fidgeted, half asleep, too.
Cass tried not to focus on how long Dor was taking. His plan had been a simple one: break into the motor pool much as he had broken into the Tapp Clinic, using the darts if possible, the guns if not. Once he’d secured a vehicle, he would come back for them and then they would go together to break Sammi out.
He had tried to talk to her about what she would do if he wasn’t back by the time the campus began fully waking up. He wanted her to leave Smoke there, to take Ruthie and turn herself in. But Cass knew they were past that stage.
