to stop that. Perfection is his best friend. Control is his biggest ally.”
My eyes had widened.
“Some of our people are at your house right now, Charlotte. They’re looking for anything the government might use against you — any proof of you who are.” He tightened his grip on my arm. “Maxwell Cooper squashed proof of his mistakes and indiscretions for years. He’ll eliminate you, too.” Thompson raised his other hand to emphasize his point. “So, you have to act. In a few days, you’ll hear from me again with a plan. I think we have some time, but not much.”
He paused. The break in his words hung in the air.
“The higher-ups in The Party right now seem to be the only ones who know about you. By that, I mean Maxwell Cooper and the inner circle. And as far as I know, they didn’t give the order, yet.” In the darkness, his words echoed in my ears.
They will kill you.
The dread consumed me. I had become a marked woman, a target. No. I was now the ultimate Undesirable. I touched the Hologram Watch on my right wrist. Thompson reactivated it as we got ready to leave the park. Now, I knew it as one other symbol of the lies I’d heard for so long. Everything I used to know just turned into a lie. Everything.
“Give me two days,” Thompson had told me before we parted ways. “I’ll get a plan. Meet me in the basement of First Presbyterian Church at 8:30 PM. Get in through one of the windows on the side of the church on the lower level.”
I shut my eyes and tried to fall asleep. As I did, my mind splintered and fragmented.
What the hell should I do? And what about Fostino?
CHAPTER TWENTY
If the minutes crawled by at the factory before, they passed even slower now. Two days after my fateful meeting with Thompson, I sat at my post in the factory. My back ached with tension. My fingers grew heavier with each stitch. The dread grew larger with each hour. I peeked at the clock while I sewed.
4:00 PM.
“Maxwell Cooper is our father. Maxwell Cooper is our leader. Maxwell Cooper will take care of us,” the woman shouted once again from the center of the room.
I struggled to keep my face in check; I had to make sure no one around me could tell how far off the grid I had traveled. The rest of the people at my worktable zipped through the work. The guards around the room didn’t notice me either.
Good.
I exhaled a long breath. No one knew my horrible secret. Not yet.
As I made shirt after shirt, I focused on what to do next. I had not been to the apartment in two days; I had not talked to Fostino about what I knew. I saw him twice: once at the factory doors in the morning, and once on the steps in between floors. Both times, I struggled to look him in the eyes, much less talk to him.
Besides, what would I say to him if I could?
Instead, each time, his green eyes bored into me like screws from a power drill. No one would mistake the hurt behind his chiseled jaw. I’d avoided him since I heard the news; now accusations poured out of him every time he saw me.
As I sewed, I tried to push the pain away. I remembered Thompson’s warning. I symbolized the problem. I had become dangerous. I had a dark secret, and Fostino just would not understand.
Right?
I reached under the table to pull more pre-cut fabric from the gigantic spool. The coarse fabric flowed through my hands with familiarity as I pulled it free. I pulled one piece, then another, and then another — three pieces total. Then, I saw the piece of paper drop to the floor below the spool. The paper flapped open and I saw the familiar handwriting in black pen. Fostino had written a large question mark.
Of course. He didn’t need to say any more.
My left hand flew out and I scooped up the small piece of paper in a flash before anyone saw me. I slipped it into the pocket of my black dress and bit the inside of my lip so hard I tasted blood after a few seconds. I choked down the pain and refused to cry. Instead, I found my way back to my stool
My eyes had widened.
“Some of our people are at your house right now, Charlotte. They’re looking for anything the government might use against you — any proof of you who are.” He tightened his grip on my arm. “Maxwell Cooper squashed proof of his mistakes and indiscretions for years. He’ll eliminate you, too.” Thompson raised his other hand to emphasize his point. “So, you have to act. In a few days, you’ll hear from me again with a plan. I think we have some time, but not much.”
He paused. The break in his words hung in the air.
“The higher-ups in The Party right now seem to be the only ones who know about you. By that, I mean Maxwell Cooper and the inner circle. And as far as I know, they didn’t give the order, yet.” In the darkness, his words echoed in my ears.
They will kill you.
The dread consumed me. I had become a marked woman, a target. No. I was now the ultimate Undesirable. I touched the Hologram Watch on my right wrist. Thompson reactivated it as we got ready to leave the park. Now, I knew it as one other symbol of the lies I’d heard for so long. Everything I used to know just turned into a lie. Everything.
“Give me two days,” Thompson had told me before we parted ways. “I’ll get a plan. Meet me in the basement of First Presbyterian Church at 8:30 PM. Get in through one of the windows on the side of the church on the lower level.”
I shut my eyes and tried to fall asleep. As I did, my mind splintered and fragmented.
What the hell should I do? And what about Fostino?
CHAPTER TWENTY
If the minutes crawled by at the factory before, they passed even slower now. Two days after my fateful meeting with Thompson, I sat at my post in the factory. My back ached with tension. My fingers grew heavier with each stitch. The dread grew larger with each hour. I peeked at the clock while I sewed.
4:00 PM.
“Maxwell Cooper is our father. Maxwell Cooper is our leader. Maxwell Cooper will take care of us,” the woman shouted once again from the center of the room.
I struggled to keep my face in check; I had to make sure no one around me could tell how far off the grid I had traveled. The rest of the people at my worktable zipped through the work. The guards around the room didn’t notice me either.
Good.
I exhaled a long breath. No one knew my horrible secret. Not yet.
As I made shirt after shirt, I focused on what to do next. I had not been to the apartment in two days; I had not talked to Fostino about what I knew. I saw him twice: once at the factory doors in the morning, and once on the steps in between floors. Both times, I struggled to look him in the eyes, much less talk to him.
Besides, what would I say to him if I could?
Instead, each time, his green eyes bored into me like screws from a power drill. No one would mistake the hurt behind his chiseled jaw. I’d avoided him since I heard the news; now accusations poured out of him every time he saw me.
As I sewed, I tried to push the pain away. I remembered Thompson’s warning. I symbolized the problem. I had become dangerous. I had a dark secret, and Fostino just would not understand.
Right?
I reached under the table to pull more pre-cut fabric from the gigantic spool. The coarse fabric flowed through my hands with familiarity as I pulled it free. I pulled one piece, then another, and then another — three pieces total. Then, I saw the piece of paper drop to the floor below the spool. The paper flapped open and I saw the familiar handwriting in black pen. Fostino had written a large question mark.
Of course. He didn’t need to say any more.
My left hand flew out and I scooped up the small piece of paper in a flash before anyone saw me. I slipped it into the pocket of my black dress and bit the inside of my lip so hard I tasted blood after a few seconds. I choked down the pain and refused to cry. Instead, I found my way back to my stool
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