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I picked at the thin skin around my fingernails, watching as the car sped closer to the construction site. The list of slights against Charles took on significance now. Things I’d done or hadn’t done felt like more reasons he’d tell my father the truth. I’d been the one to insist he leave the bed that first night. I couldn’t stand it when he looked at me too much, when he talked to me too much, when he talked to my father too much, when he said anything positive about the regime. Though there were moments when things were bearable, most of the time we spent together in the suite was marked with his questions, his effort, and my silence or criticism.
“Genevieve, I’m speaking to you,” my father said. I flinched when he touched my arm. “We’re here. ”
The car had stopped outside a demolition site. They’d torn down an old hotel that was used as a morgue during the plague. It had been boarded up for more than a decade, the bones of victims still inside. A few bundles of flowers sat on the ground—wilting roses, daisies that were now shriveled and stiff.
The site was blocked off with plywood fencing, but there were openings leading down to the massive crater in the earth. I got out, walking toward a break in the wall. “Genevieve,” I heard him call behind me. “That’s not for you to see. ”
About thirty feet below the earth was a giant pile of rubble. A bulldozer pushed concrete back, against the edge of the foundation. Another crane sat motionless, its giant yellow fist lowered to the ground. Throughout the site, boys from the labor camps were clearing brick and ash using shovels and wheelbarrows. They were thinner than the boys I’d seen inside the City previously. There’d been rumors that with the liberation of the camps, the boys who’d been here at the time were now trapped and worked doubly as hard to make up for the others.
One of the older boys pointed at us from below. Charles turned and started up the incline, pausing for a moment by a tangled heap of steel rods and concrete. He yelled something at two younger boys who had their shirts off. They were darting around the far end of the site, kicking something. I squinted against the sun, slowly making out the dark hollows in its side. It was a human skull.
I covered my nose, overtaken by the dry stench. I’d heard hundreds had been buried inside the hotel, their bodies wrapped in sheets and towels. There were rumors that some had still been alive, suffering from the plague; that terrified family members had left them there in their last hours. Dust had settled on every surface within a quarter of a mile. The pavement, the surrounding buildings, the rusted cars that sat, wheels off, in a vacant parking lot—it was all covered with a thin layer of gray.
I kept my head down as Charles came toward us, walking up the plywood ramp that had been anchored to the side of the ditch. I tucked my thumb under the strap of the bag, reminding myself of its contents. The nearest tunnel was still thirty minutes away, even if I ran. The best chance I had was to take the car back with my father and escape when we turned onto the main road. The south tunnel would be just ten minutes from there. Using the alleys in the Outlands, there was a chance I could lose the soldiers who followed me, if I moved quickly enough.
“We have some news for you,” my father called out when Charles came closer. The shoulders of his navy jacket were covered with dust. He pulled off the yellow construction hat he wore, cradling it like a baby.
He glanced from my father to me, then to the car idling behind us. The soldier was standing outside it, his rifle slung over his shoulder. “It must be important. I can’t remember a time when Genevieve visited me on a project. ”
The King rested his hand on my back, pushing me forward ever so slightly. “Go on, Genevieve,” he whispered. “Tell Charles the happy news. ” He was watching me, his eyes fixed on the side of my face.
It was over now, I could sense it, as my gaze met Charles’s. He looked at once hopeful and nervous, as he smoothed down a tuft of black hair that had fallen in his eyes. I filled my lungs, holding it there until it was too much to take. “I’m pregnant,” I said, my throat tight. “The City will be thrilled, I’m sure. ”
The bulldozer moved along the construction floor below, a low, beeping sound filling the air. I rested my hand on my chest, feeling my heart alive beneath my breastbone, the steadiness of it calming me. Just say it, I thought, watching as Charles dropped his head, his eyes on the pavement. Don’t drag this out any further.
“As am I. ” He came toward me, his arms over my shoulders, until I was pressed tightly against his chest. I breathed in, my body slowly relaxing, settling in beside him. He rested his hand on the back of my head so gently, I had to blink back tears. “I’ve never been happier. ”
six
THE PARTY WAS STILL GOING ON, EVEN AFTER THE MUSICIANS had left for the night and the last of the cups and saucers had been cleared from the tables in the parlor. My father was more animated than I’d ever seen him, gesturing with his crystal glass, rambling on to Harold Pollack, an engineer in the City. “It’s something to celebrate,” I heard him say, as Charles and I started for the door.
“In a time when things aren’t as certain,” Harold agreed.
At this the King waved his hand dismissively, as if swatting away a fly. “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said. “A few riots at the labor camps are hardly a threat to the City. ”
I lingered there for a moment, watching them as Charles spoke with the Head of Finance. My father withstood Harold’s presence a moment longer before excusing himself. There had been talk of the labor camp riots all night. In between congratulations, people mentioned rumors about the labor camps, asking my father about the rebels outside the City. With every question he laughed a little harder, made more of a show of just how confident he was. He called them riots, not sieges, and made it sound like it had only happened at one or two of the camps.
“Ready to go?” Charles asked, offering me his arm. I threaded mine through it as we started down the hall. Neither of us spoke. Instead I listened to the sound of our footsteps and the faint echo of the soldier’s behind us.
We got to the suite, the lock clicking shut behind us. I watched Charles as he moved around the room, slinging his suit jacket over the armchair and loosening his tie. “You didn’t have to do that today,” I said. His back was toward me as he stepped out of his shoes.
“Of course I did,” he said, pushing his hair off his face. “I wasn’t about to tell your father the truth. You know what kind of position that would’ve put you in. ” He turned, and for the first time I noticed that his cheeks were splotchy and pink, as if he’d just come in from the cold. “No one can find out, Genevieve—no one. ”
“It’s not your problem to fix,” I said. “I did this. ”
After what happened at the construction site, I’d gone to my appointment with the doctor, then met Charles at the reception. The gratitude I’d felt for him had lessened, giving way to a kind of quiet resentment. He had saved me. He believed he had, at least, and I could feel the implied debt between us whenever his hand found mine, his fingers clamped down on my palm. We’re in this together, he seemed to say. I won’t leave you now.
He pressed his palms to his face, then shook his head. “Is this your way of thanking me? I didn’t want this, you know, when we were married. I didn’t want to feel like I was some horrible, second choice forced upon you. I am trying here, and I always have been. You could’ve at least told me before you ambushed me at the site. ”