Outside In. Maria Snyder V.
…” She hesitated.
A ripple of unease lapped against my stomach. “They refused?”
She met my gaze. “Not in so many words. They just won’t answer my requests, and when I go down there, they ignore me or give me the runaround until I give up and leave.”
Dark circles, new wrinkles and streaks of white hair aged her. She appeared older—closer to fifty centiweeks than forty.
“How critical is the surgery at hour sixty? Can it be delayed?” I asked.
“It’s Emek’s appendix. If I don’t remove it soon, it will burst and kill him.”
“All right, I’ll help you. For Emek’s sake.” I headed to my room. My thoughts returned to the Committee. They would need to investigate why the lower care workers were ignoring requests for help.
My palms stung as I washed up. I had forgotten about the rope burns. Grabbing a tube of antiseptic, I rubbed it on the abrasions. Abrasions? I needed to find another place to sleep before I started spouting medical lingo like a pro.
Riley’s father had offered to move from their apartment, but it was too soon for us to go that next step. Since the rebellion, Riley and I had little to no time to get to know each other better. I touched my silver sheep pendant—a gift from Riley. Perhaps I could live in our storeroom and spend more alone time with Riley. Only a few members of the Force of Sheep knew of its existence. Which made staying there even more appealing.
The Committee met in the large conference room next to Inside’s main Control Room, both within Quadrant G4. I had argued for the new levels to be built in a different configuration than the existing levels without success.
With so many changes happening so fast, the Committee thought a new design would just confuse everyone. So level five resembled levels one through four—a three by three grid, like a Tic Tac Toe board. The four corners were labeled Quadrants and the middle sections were Sectors. Starting from the top row on the left, the first Quadrant was A, then Sector B and Quadrant C. The middle was Sectors D, E and F and the last row had Quadrant G, Sector H and Quadrant I. Just add the level number and any idiot could find a location.
I arrived at the meeting two hours late. Slipping into an empty seat beside Jacy, I glanced around the long oval table. The Committee had been comprised of one representative from each of the nine upper families and one leader from each scrub area like hydroponics and waste-water. Eighteen in all. Since an even number could cause problems when members voted, a nineteenth spokesperson had been added.
Despite repeated requests that I become the nineteenth member, I refused, preferring to be a part of the Committee as a consultant only. Less responsibility. Riley had been asked next, but he’d quipped that the Committee didn’t need both him and his father and he’d claimed that he would be more useful as support personnel.
They finally elected Jacy.
After my initial surprise at his appointment, and, when I thought it through, it made sense. He had taken over the organization and leadership of the rebellion when I had been captured by the Pop Cops. Plus he was well connected through his network of people in the lower levels.
I leaned close to him. “What did I miss?”
“They’re trying to decide which group can move into level five.”
“Group?” That was new.
“Once all six new levels are completed, the Committee thinks the nine families can share five levels and the scrubs, broken into groups by areas, can live in the other five.”
“That won’t work.”
“I know and you know, but try and explain it to those eighteen.” He swept his hand out. “They’re still thinking in terms of uppers and lowers.”
Which reminded me. “Are you aware of the labor strike?”
Jacy stared at me with a guarded expression. “Yep.”
“How do we get the workers back?”
“By having the uppers get their hands dirty for once.”
And Jacy just proved he also thought in terms of uppers and lowers. If I was being honest, I did as well. That was the problem. But I couldn’t figure out a solution.
Why should I? I’d done my part and found Gateway, led the rebellion and discovered the Expanse. The multiple scars on my arms, legs and torso from Pop Cop Commander Vinco’s knife proved I had sacrificed for the citizens of Inside.
I had also lost my closest friend, Cogon. He had acted more like a brother, and I missed him so much my insides felt rusted and brittle. Cog would have loved organizing the construction crews. He’d have insisted on perfection before moving on to another level.
Slouching in my chair, I let the Committee’s voices roll over me. They didn’t need me. The Committee would take us to the next stage.
After listening to the sixth scrub area representative list the reasons they should be the first to move into level five, I willed the clock to move faster. These meetings were a waste of my time. I could be spending these hours with Riley. The session went on and on. Assisting the Traitor with surgery grew more appealing with each minute. I lasted until hour fifty-nine.
“I’m outta here. I’m helping the … Doctor Lamont,” I whispered to Jacy.
“Will you be back before the vote?” he asked.
“Why? Nothing I say changes their minds.” Frustration and weariness welled, but I swallowed them down.
“You’ve given up, Trell. That’s not like you.”
“Sitting in endless meetings for twelve weeks isn’t like me either. I’m a big picture girl.” I tried a smile, but Jacy kept his frown. I made a sudden liberating decision. “Tell the Committee I’m resigning as a consultant and going back to what I do best.”
Shock, anger and censure warred on Jacy’s face. His lips moved for a moment before he spoke. “And what do you do best?”
“Explore. We have no idea how high up the Expanse’s ceiling is. What if I find another hatch at the top? There could be another Expanse filled with supplies. That’s just as important as arguing over who gets to move into the new levels first.”
I left before he could respond. For the first time since the rebellion, I strode through the bland white corridors of Inside feeling light as air. I couldn’t wait to tell Riley!
My good mood dissipated once I arrived at the infirmary and spotted Emek’s colorless face. Grimacing with pain, he clutched his sheets in tight fists. He wouldn’t respond to my questions. His skin felt cold and clammy. The Traitor wasn’t in the main room so I raced to the back.
She prepped for surgery. “You’re early.”
“Emek looks bad. When’s the last time you checked on him?”
Pushing by me, she ran to him. I caught up to her as she probed the skin below Emek’s waist with her fingers. He screamed.
“His appendix has burst.” She kicked off the brakes on the bed. “Move!”
I helped her roll him into surgery and we transferred him to the operating table. Then she issued rapid-fire orders. The experience, which usually passed by in a blur of blood and frantic activity, slowed this time. Even with the emergency, I anticipated her needs a few times and handed her instruments without being asked. Despite my resistance, I was learning.
As she worked to save Emek’s life, I no longer viewed her as the Traitor, but as Doctor Lamont. According to Doctor Sanchia, Lamont was the best diagnostician in our world and a skilled surgeon as well. More reasons she was here and not locked in the crowded holding cells with the Travas.
After sewing up Emek’s incision, Lamont told me to dress the wound as she adjusted the anesthesia. It didn’t take us long to finish. I wheeled him into the recovery