Black Marion

16

Late November, Saturday night, Alex clutched a mug of lukewarm coffee on a clinic bench. At 2 A.M., no patients lingered and most of the clinic staff had gone home or to their apartments on the third floor. The fluorescent lighting was off, leaving a single lamp to illuminate the lobby. It was enough light to read by if she wished, but the book laying at her side could not hold her attention for more than a single line.

Her only company was Maria, who had changed into sleepwear and a shawl some hours ago. Maria returned now from a trip to the bathroom, sitting beside Alex and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you hungry?"

Alex shook her head. Maria kneaded gently at the tension in her back. It was not a new gesture: over the weeks, she had learned that Maria was generous with physical warmth, no exception for the Skyborn Alex.

"Relax," said the woman. "He'll be fine. I'm sure of it."

Haneul, she meant.

When Alex had offered to share with Bennie the security manipulation on midground, she had not thought that the doctor would be the one retrieving the supplies. It was a naive oversight; knowing Haneul, who already undertook the risks of going Tagless and running an illicit clinic, Alex should not have expected anything else. Though the task carried minimal risk in theory, it now felt like she was waiting on the results of a badly skewed gamble.

One mistake. One security trigger, one witness slipping beneath the monitors, one message conveyed too late or too wrong could cost Haneul his life. For all that Alex trusted in Bennie's wit and expertise, she would have given another round of fingernails to be the one behind the screens tonight. An impossible wish: there was no network access in the clinic and the resistance's unrelenting watch hounded the alleys still, keeping her locked inside. Her only influence in the matter was a handheld phone link to Bennie, who would not be contacting her unless there was an emergency.

So she waited. It had been three hours. Outside, rain pelted the windows. A heavy storm was coming down from the Sky, keeping stray walkers indoors. It was why they had chosen tonight to make their move—yet the sound of the dirtied water assaulting the old glass only riled her nerves more.

Unconsciously, she scrapped the skin of her fingers against the cup in her hand. Maria eventually reached over and pulled the cup away from her.

"You really do need to calm down, sweetheart."

"Sorry."

Maria smiled. A moment later, "Has he told you about where he came from?"

"No." Alex frowned. "It wasn't here?"

"Sector 4? No. He grew up in the Grays in Sector 31—that's about as rough as you can get down on the Ground, right on the outskirts. I've never been, but I hear the air's pretty bad there. The people who can afford to move inward do. The people who can't? They fight for the scraps of the poorest district." She paused, fingers falling idly to a knot on her shawl. "He was sixteen, I think, when he brought his dad over to us. Gang fight. His dad didn't make it, but we managed to convince him to stay. Now he's always holding a roll of bandages instead of a gun, but that Gray blood doesn't bleed out easy." She looked at Alex. "My point is, Alex, he's more than capable of taking care of himself. And that's not even saying anything about Bennie—she worked for the resistance before Albert took over, you know. She's got the sharpest blades on the Ground, and now she's got what you know. It's going to be fine."

She looked at the floor, briefly overwhelmed by the new information Maria had shared. In her mind's eye, she saw a young Haneul, bloodied and bruised with his father on his shoulders. They had spoken of family just a week ago—Haneul's mother had passed away in his early childhood. A sickness, he'd said. And if he had grown up in the place that Maria had described, it must have been a common, brutal loss to find himself alone in the world.