Rise

five

I TWISTED ON THE TAP, LETTING THE COOL WATER RUN OVER my fingers. I let out a few loud coughs and started on the narrow set of drawers, searching through the tiny plastic boxes and canisters. The writing on some of the labels had worn off. I picked over tall bottles filled with white liquid, a pair of thick metal razors, a horsehair brush and hard soap used to make shaving foam. There were folded white towels that smelled of mint. Then, in the top drawer, I found two amber-colored bottles. A handwritten label was on each, with the doctor's signature scrawled across it.

The extract felt heavy in my pocket. I emptied the shiny white capsules onto the marble counter and began the work, popping open three of them and spilling their insides into the sink. The powder clumped together and was swept away, floating above the drain for a moment before it was sucked under.

I emptied some of the extract on the counter and pressed it inside the hard capsule, careful to keep it away from my face, as Moss had instructed. I pinched one side and slid the cap on, dropping it back into the bottle. I was halfway through the second one when my father knocked on the door. The sound echoed in the hollow room, raising tiny bumps on my arms. "Is everything all right?" he asked. The knob turned but locked in place, refusing to open.

"Just one moment," I called.

I moved quickly, finishing the second pill,
When I stepped outside my father was standing right beside the door, just inches away. His arms were folded. "Feeling better?" he asked, his eyes lingering for a moment on my hands, which were still wet.

I brought them to my cheeks, willing the soft, red skin back to normal. "I have to lie down," I said. "I won't be able to make it to the Outlands. Not like this."

My father tilted his head to one side, studying me. "I can't go see Charles alone," he said. "Come now, it will be a quick visit. You'll be back within the half hour." His features hardened, and I knew then it wasn't up for discussion. His hand came down around my arm, guiding me toward the door.

THE RIDE WAS ENDLESS. THE CAR LURCHED AT EVERY CORNER, the cabin thick with the smells of leather and cologne. I opened the window, trying to get some air, but the Outlands held the dry stench of dust and ash. My hand was at my waist, feeling the soft flesh of my belly for the mound that had not yet appeared. I knew I'd missed my period and had wondered if it was possible I was pregnant, but everything in the past months had gone by quickly, somewhere outside me.

Moss had stolen a tattered T-shirt from the box of items recovered from the airplane hangar. There was a C on the tag, the fabric thin from so many wears. Alone in the suite, Caleb's shirt balled in my hands, I was certain that when he died a part of me had died with him. I couldn't feel anymore, not the way I had when he was here, inside the City. The days in the Palace seemed endless, filled with stilted conversation and people who saw me only as my father's daughter, nothing more.

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."