I don’t know where
The lovers go to hold each other.
They are being kept
Apart by their hard hearts and minds.
They are in a place where
Only the bravest may wander.
There’s a rhythmic thrumming sound
Of their hearts beating in unison.
Like the water plant
That longs to hear a trickle, finding,
However, no sound of water,
I search for you, try to
Find others to help
Me catch you before you can
Escape. I’m going to search for
Our hearts in love’s forest, calling
Them when I can
Spare my voice.
Once I find them,
I will keep yours safe for you until
We can run away
Together into the wind.
For weeks, the girls communicated this way, embedding messages in poems, in essays, right under the noses of the guards, who had relaxed over time and were no longer vigilant so much as bored. In one complex message woven into a sonnet, Waverly learned that Samantha had been boarded with a couple that had an elaborate kitchen with every conceivable gadget. This was how she’d been able to take knives without being noticed. She had a total of three and didn’t dare take any more. Sarah embedded ideas for where there might be a rhythmic sound like the one Waverly described, suggesting the environmental control system, which was housed in the upper floors of the ship, or the water turbine that kept the water running for the fish hatcheries. But there was no way to go looking, and it tormented Waverly to know that her mother was somewhere on this ship, suffering and afraid, and she couldn’t get to her.
They made progress in other ways. Back and forth they worked on a plan for escape, honing it carefully until Waverly believed it could actually work.
Everything depended on her being able to search for the Empyrean survivors. But the guards were outside her room constantly, and there was no way to get past them.
One afternoon the solution came to her in a flash. If Mather was keeping the Empyrean captives a secret, she’d have to keep the crew away from them. She might have restricted access to that area. It was so simple, she should have thought of this sooner!
“Amanda,” Waverly said when Amanda came in carrying a large gourd full of red grapes, “what have you been up to today?”
“Not much. Just a little gardening.”
Waverly fidgeted with her pencil. “I’m just curious. Because I heard no one is allowed to go into the sewage plant.”
“Really? I thought it was atmospheric conditioning they were worried about.”
“Oh?”
“They think the metal in the floor is stressed or something. Only trained personnel are allowed. Not that anyone cares. No one goes there anyway.”
“I guess that’s true,” Waverly said, unable to hide the joy in her voice, though Amanda didn’t seem to notice.
Atmospheric conditioning. Yes! That explained the sounds she’d overheard from the com station that night in the lab. That’s where her mom was.
Relief flooded through her, and she had to leave the living room to be alone in her room because she might cry. After months of worry, fear, and scheming, they finally had the key.
There was nothing left to plan.
It was time to kill Anne Mather.
SERVICES
On the day of services, Waverly rose, bleary and anxious. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Instead she’d stared into the darkness all night with glassy eyes, going over everything again and again. Her life, Samantha’s, and Sarah’s depended on getting this absolutely right.
She only hoped she could move fast enough with her injured leg and was glad to have the cane Josiah had made for her.
“Oh, you’re up,” Amanda said, poking her head into the room, something she’d been doing a lot lately. When she stepped inside, Waverly realized that Amanda looked truly pregnant now, with a rounded belly and widening hips. Her own daughter or son was inside Amanda’s body, Waverly thought with disbelief. “Better hurry. We don’t want to be late.”
“Yes, I know.” Waverly slipped on her church smock, tucked her hair into the kerchief, and looked at herself in the mirror.
She was so changed. Her face was thinner, there were circles under her eyes, and a line was carved between her eyebrows, vertical and severe. She’d aged.
“Let’s get a move on!” she heard Josiah call from the living room. He was eager to try out a new hymn he’d written. It made Waverly sad to think that he and Amanda didn’t know what was about to happen.
Waverly limped out of her room. She knew she was weaker now than she’d been before the attack, but she was certain she was still stronger than Anne Mather. She had to be.
On their walk to services, a very pregnant woman stopped her and actually kissed her hand, glowing with happiness. “God bless you,” she whispered.
Waverly barely looked at her. She was too frightened.
She wove between the chairs to take her customary place with Amanda in the front row, where they could see Josiah and the choir. Waverly scanned the crowd for Samantha, who was sitting where she was supposed to on the starboard side, and then for Sarah, who was in the other corner of the room, on the port side. She raised her right hand in a signal to Samantha and waited, holding her breath.
Samantha gave her a quick thumbs-up. The knives were in place. Samantha’s task of getting here early to plant them had been the riskiest, but Waverly knew she was the best one to do the job.
Waverly’s heart was knocking in her chest. Facing the stage she’d have to climb onto, and seeing Anne Mather’s throat, soft and pliant, she felt suddenly that their plan was hopelessly simplistic. Was it really just a matter of some locked doors and a few knives? Could it possibly work?
She swallowed the nausea at the back of her throat. It had to work. It was their only chance.
“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked. She rubbed Waverly’s back. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Waverly said, her voice trembling. “I was just thinking how I’d like to thank you, that’s all.”
“Oh?”
“For everything you’ve done for me.”
“Of course, Waverly. I love you, you know that.”
Waverly could only give her a furtive smile.
Josiah began strumming his guitar, and the crowd settled. Anne Mather, wearing a pumpkin-colored robe embroidered with birds and flowers, walked to the podium and held up a plump hand. “Peace be upon you!” she cried.
“And upon you!” responded the crowd.
Under Mather’s joyous words, Waverly’s ears picked up the faint pounding of two sets of feet, running toward the sides of the huge room.
There was no turning back.
Waverly stood. Already Sarah and Samantha had quietly closed the first two sets of doors. She could hear the soft pop and smell the ozone as they disabled the electric locks. A few people looked around at the sound distractedly, then turned their attention back to Mather. Terror gripped Waverly, and for a moment black spots shadowed her eyes, but she managed to move toward the stage as Mather spoke about celebrating the coming harvest. Amanda tugged on her tunic and hissed, “Where are you going?”
“I need to pee,” Waverly whispered back. She looped her cane over her wrist and knelt at the pile of hay directly under Mather’s podium. Probing underneath it, she felt the cool metal handle. The knife was right where it was supposed to be.
She slipped it between her teeth and quick as lightning pushed herself onto the stage.
Anne Mather stopped in midsentence and stared at her.
She grabbed a hank of Mather’s hair and jerked her head back to expose her throat. Then she pressed the knife blade against her pulsing jugular.
She felt Mather shudder. Good. She was scared. The woman smelled of soap and coconut lotion, a sickening odor that repelled Waverly. It was disgusti
ng to be so physically close to the woman she meant to kill, and for a moment, her determination flagged.
A surprised cry rose from the congregation. Women covered their mouths to stifle screams, men half stood as if to help Mather, but froze, staring at Waverly in shock.
“This is useless, Waverly,” Mather said through a constricted throat.
“I’ll kill you,” Waverly responded, pressing her knife edge a little farther into Mather’s skin.
The woman’s plump body stiffened. “Don’t move!” Waverly warned, turning the knife so the blade pricked Mather’s throat.
She heard footsteps behind her and whirled.
Josiah and the choir were a few feet away, frozen, their eyes fixed on the blade. To Waverly’s right, a few men had mounted the stage but were keeping their distance, at least for now.
In the front row, Amanda sat with her hands over her mouth.
Mather tried to pull away, but Waverly was too strong.
“What do you hope to accomplish?” Mather said through her teeth.
Waverly ignored her and spoke into the microphone. “If any of you want to know how much I’d like to kill Anne Mather, come closer. I’ll show you.”
Her words rang out like a spell, casting absolute silence. Emboldened, she pivoted to her left, then her right, glaring. “Back off!” she screamed.
Josiah and the other musicians jumped back, arms upraised. The men to Waverly’s right slowly backed away.
Waverly leaned toward the microphone, but before she could speak, Mather called, “Stay calm, everyone! You can see how confused this girl is—”
Waverly pressed the hilt of her knife against the woman’s neck, closing off her air supply. Mather stopped talking.
It was Waverly’s turn to make a speech.
“I want every girl from the Empyrean to listen,” she said, seeking out the faces of her shipmates in the crowd. They were like tiny stars in a dreary sky. “The Empyrean has not been destroyed. You know that Mather has been lying about that all along. What you do not know is that there are survivors from the Empyrean being held prisoner on this ship.”
A murmur of denial moved through the crowd, but Waverly raised her voice. “Girls! If you want to see your families again, run to the port side of the room where Samantha—”
Before she could even finish her sentence, the girls were all up, beating back hands that tried to hold them, biting at clinging limbs, getting away so easily. The older girls rushed to help the young ones, lifting them away from their foster families as the toddlers kicked at arms and faces until they were finally free.
Hundreds of feet pounded to the port side of the room.
It was working!
The adults started to follow, but the girls were strong and fast and got away easily.
Waverly let out a scream, a long, wolflike howl that stopped the adults in their tracks just long enough for the girls to slip out of the room. When the door closed safely behind them, Waverly spoke to the crowd, which was disordered and misshapen, confused, frightened. And for the moment, easily controlled. But just for the moment.
The plan had been to leave right away. Take Anne Mather to the atmospheric conditioning plant and use her as leverage to make the guards release the prisoners. But looking at all these people, Waverly knew there was no way to trap this many for long. They’d get out and stop the girls.
Unless she could convince them to let the girls go.
“You’re good people,” she said into the microphone. She heard a cry off to her right and saw Samantha standing by the last open door. She mouthed, “What are you doing?” But Waverly ignored her. “You’re good people, but you’ve allowed unspeakable crimes to be committed in your names. Anne Mather attacked our ship, destroyed our families, took our eggs from us without our consent, and separated all these girls from their parents. Your Pastor is a liar. She’s been lying to you all along.”
Mather shook her head, but Waverly closed the woman’s windpipe again, and she stopped.
How many people stared at Waverly in shock? How many in anger? How many more in guilt?
Most in disbelief.
They did not believe her.
But some of them did. Some of them must know the truth.
“Most of you don’t know about the Empyrean survivors on board,” Waverly shouted. Mather’s sweat had begun soaking through the thin fabric of Waverly’s own shift, making her skin crawl. “Some of you know about them.”
“She’s right!” someone in back screamed into the silence—a woman with sandy-colored hair standing on a chair. “I’ve been preparing meals for them, and taking them down! There are people down there. Strangers!”
Angry voices met this, but then a man cried out, “Buckets of waste have been coming down to the sewage plant! They won’t say from where!”
The woman who had kissed Waverly’s hand stood on her chair. “I believe her! Waverly wouldn’t lie!”
The crowd erupted into a thousand protests and accusations. Waverly yelled into the microphone, “You have what you wanted. You’re going to have our babies. Now let us go and leave us alone.”
Waverly dragged Anne Mather off the stage. Some people from the congregation made a move toward her, so Waverly took the sharp tip of her knife and pricked at the skin just next to Mather’s eye. The woman screamed, and the people backed away at the sight of her blood, hands held up in supplication.
“Waverly! Don’t do this! Waverly!” Amanda screamed, but Waverly ignored her as she backed toward the port side door.
She was almost there when she sensed someone behind her.
The guard with the scar had Samantha by the throat, and he was pointing his gun at her head.
ESCAPE
“Waverly—,” Samantha started to say, but the guard tightened his arm around her neck, and she gagged.
“I can kill her,” he said to Waverly matter-of-factly. His scar, that angry red line, pinched and winked as he spoke. “Don’t think I won’t.”
Now she saw that five other armed men had come into the room. One twisted Sarah’s arm painfully behind her back. Her face was red, and tears flowed from her eyes. Another dozen girls were huddled in the doorway, staring.
They’d failed. She’d ruined everything, making her stupid speech! Of course security forces would be monitoring services. What had she been thinking?
She was about to drop her knife when she heard an animal sound, something between a grunt and a scream. Samantha had grabbed the guard’s arm and wrenched it away from her neck. “Run!” she screamed at Waverly, reaching for his gun.
For one long moment, the room, the crowd, the ship, the stars in their incandescent dance, all seemed to slow and stop as if waiting to see what would happen.
Then the universe was set into motion again by a sharp, popping sound.
And another.
Samantha fell into a strange, unhuman shape on the floor.
She was so still.
A strangled cry issued from Anne Mather’s throat, and she sank to her knees. Waverly realized she’d let go of her.
“Oh no,” Mather whispered. “Waverly, what have you done?”
The other guard let go of Sarah. His gun hung loose at his side until the muzzle dropped to the floor. Sarah ran to her friend, rolled Samantha onto her back, sobbing.
Samantha’s eyes were two inert marbles in her skull.
“Sam!” Sarah collapsed over her body. “Sammy, no! No! No! No!”
A plump woman knelt to pat Sarah’s back. Another stroked the top of her head.
The crowd started to stir.
“What did you do?” a large man shouted at the guard. “Are you crazy?”
The air was electrified.
Waverly felt hands on her back and heard the smallest whisper. “Go.”
It was the woman with the auburn braid, Jessica, the lector who had warned her so long ago. Now Jessica pushed her toward the doorway where the rest of the girls waited. Serafina’s face was twisted
in fright. Briany Beckett was crying, and Melissa Dickinson was holding her hand, trying to comfort her. Most of the girls were looking at Waverly, pleading with their eyes.
“Go,” Jessica said.
“But Sarah…”
“I’ll get her.”
Jessica pushed through the bodies that crowded around Samantha and Sarah. One of the guards was shouting, “Stand back! Get back!” and brandishing his weapon, but a large man with the muscles of a farm laborer grabbed it away from him.
A shot rang out, and Waverly ran for the door, holding her knife in front of her to make people back away. Her leg was stiff, but she quickly closed the distance to the girls in the doorway. Another shot sounded behind her, and suddenly the crowd was scattering, running from the guns.
Waverly made it to the door and the terrified girls, who were huddled together against the wall. Sarah, meanwhile, was fighting off Jessica, who was trying to drag her backward toward the door.
“Sarah! We have to go!” Waverly screamed.
Sarah looked around her as though waking up, saw Waverly in the doorway, and blinked. Jessica lifted her by the shoulders and pulled her toward Waverly.
About a dozen people had noticed the open door and were now rushing toward Waverly, threatening to crowd out Sarah, who was trying to fight her way through. Waverly stepped forward, swinging her cane in their faces, roaring, and the people backed away.
“Don’t come any nearer,” Waverly said to them, holding up her knife as Sarah fought her way through the mass of shoulders, Jessica right behind her as they slipped through the door.
“Waverly!” Amanda pushed to the front of the crowd. Tears streamed from her red-rimmed eyes. “Let me help you.”