come to check on me, but instead I was greeted by Marcus and two members of the Elite Eight. I scrambled to my feet but immediately Marcus grabbed me and pulled me away from Baby.
“Sorry, kid,” he said, “I have to follow orders.”
“Rice!” I looked to him, pleading.
“What is this about?” Rice asked, his voice surprisingly forceful. He moved closer to me and took my hand.
“I don’t answer to you,” Marcus sneered.
“Not yet, but you may one day,” Rice reminded him.
Surprisingly that made Marcus pause. “Talk to Dr. Reynolds. He gave me strict orders.” Marcus dragged me toward the door.
“Rice!” I screamed as my hand slipped out of his.
Baby tried to follow but I signed,
In the hall, they shoved me into a large body bag, and Marcus hefted me to his shoulder, carrying me like I was a sack of laundry. I wanted to fight, to lash out, but I knew I couldn’t take on Marcus plus two of his muscle- bound cronies. I was shoved onto a hard surface and heard a motor start.
After a short ride, they carried me somewhere inside a building—I could hear doors opening and closing as I was moved around. They dropped me and untied the top of the bag before they left, locking the door. I wriggled out of the bag onto a cold linoleum floor. The small room was dark but I could make out a bed, a sink, a toilet. I lay still and miserable, unable to bring myself to move. Hopeless, I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my head, hoping to drown out the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“You seem different, Amy.” Dr. Reynolds is sitting across from me again, in my room in the Ward. This is my latest psyche-eval, the one my mother orchestrated. “Perhaps your treatments have been more effective than we anticipated.”
“I am different.” I smile. They haven’t given me medication in days so I’d be clear enough to talk to Dr. Reynolds, not knowing that I’d neutralized the pills weeks ago. “I understand now what you’re trying to do here.”
“And what’s that?” he asks, curious.
“Maintain humanity.”
“Not just maintain, Amy. Improve.”
I have to concentrate hard not to laugh. “Improve, yes, I see that.”
“Your mother seems to think that you’ve handled certain information quite well.”
“Such as?” I don’t want to give anything away.
“That there are Floraes in New Hope. That we perform tests on them.”
“Yes. I’ve adjusted my way of thinking. I know it’s for the good of the community.” I’m keeping my responses short so I don’t mess up. I just have to convince him. I just have to get out of the Ward. I can squirrel away supplies, learn how to fly a hover-copter. One night I’ll sneak Baby out. We can live like we did before we came here.
“Do you know why you were placed here, Amy?”
He flips through his notebook. “When we first spoke . . . I flagged you as possibly subversive,” he says, surprisingly blunt.
“I was just interested in learning about New Hope,” I try to explain.
“Yes, I noted that as well.” He reads from his book. “A. Harris has an extremely curious disposition, prying into matters that are beyond her clearance level as a new citizen of New Hope.”
“What else?” I ask, unsure why he’s telling me this.
“A. Harris has an unnatural attachment to a post-ap she calls Baby. This child has a chance to live a happy, fulfilled life as a citizen, unless unduly influenced by A. Harris. She also has severe PTSD, causing many anger issues and an irrational resentment toward the structured society that defines New Hope. She should be monitored closely for violent behavior and rebellious conduct.” He snaps his notebook shut.
“And now, because of my treatments, I’m much better,” I tell him.
He looks at me pointedly. “No. You’re not.”
I try to stay calm. “I don’t understand.”
“Amy, your mother is very important to us. Her research is invaluable. If we are to take back the world from the Floraes, we need people like her: smart, dedicated, and loyal. Since you arrived six months ago, your mother has lost some of her focused commitment to New Hope. Now she worries about you . . . for your well- being.”
“But now I can fit in,” I plead. “Especially if I’m a Guardian. I can devote myself to New Hope. I can defend it.” My voice is strained.
Dr. Reynolds shakes his head. “Amy, you and I both know there is only one thing to which you are devoted.” I swallow. He means Baby.
“I’m not getting out of here, am I? This was all for show, to placate my mother.”
“It’s a shame really, Amy. You’re so smart. You have so much to offer us, but you just can’t be trusted. I know you think that one day, maybe not too far off, you’ll escape from the Ward and leave New Hope behind with Baby at your side.”
Shaking, I refuse to look at him.
“I have scheduled a small neurosurgical procedure for you next week.”
“Neurosurgical?”
“I have decided we must go in and perform a minor lobotomy.”
“You are extremely violent. Even on your medication, you killed a nurse in an attempt to escape.”
“What?! I never . . . Is that what you’ll tell my mother?” It suddenly hits me that Dr. Reynolds is, at heart, a sadist. Nothing more, nothing less. He’s only telling me his plans because he wants to revel in my helplessness and my terror. Despite my chill, I feel a warmth rush to my face. I can barely contain my rage.
He nods. “Yes, and we’ve already told a different story to all of New Hope. That you were wounded while on a mission and are recovering in the Ward from severe injuries. People are inspired by you: the director’s daughter willing to sacrifice life and limb for New Hope. You’ve helped to strengthen our cohesive community, Amy.” His smug smile is sickening.
“You’ve turned me into a phony martyr,” I hiss. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I’ve been gauging your reaction.”
My head snaps up.
“This was part of your evaluation, and it’s fair to say you have not responded positively.”
“That was part of my psyche-eval?” I ask. “And the procedure?”
“That’s entirely up to you, Amy.” He stands to leave. “We’ll see how well you behave.”
I bite my lip, trying to appear resigned. “How long will I have to behave, to prove myself?”
“Indefinitely.” He smiles as if I should be pleased by this.
“Will I ever . . . Can I see Baby?” I ask desperately.
“No,” he says, enjoying my misery.
He thinks he’s won. He thinks he knows me, but he has no idea what I am capable of. If I can survive the After, I can survive the Ward.
I’m not surprised that he comes. Even if Dr. Samuels didn’t relay my message, I knew Rice would be back. I sit quietly, pretending to be medicated.
