Page 14 of Empowereds

14

T he next day at breakfast, Charity sat with Zia and didn’t so much as glance at Enzo. He sat at the far end of the common room off the kitchen in a cluster of workers. Which was fine. She wouldn’t waste more time thinking about him. She’d done enough of that last night.

Her father didn’t show up until breakfast was ending. He grabbed the plate of eggs and potatoes her mother had saved for him and joined her on the bench. “Enzo, Callum,” he called, drawing their attention, “I need you two to stay behind instead of going to the fields.”

Good. Less chance she’d run into Enzo while she picked corn. She stood up to take her plate to the kitchen.

“You stay as well, Charity,” her father said.

“Me? Why?” Her voice sounded too alarmed.

He didn’t seem to notice. He was beaming at Callum. “The Slavery Recovery Department called. They’ve located your parents, and they’ll be in Kansas City this afternoon. They’re in contact with a clinic there that can remove your collar.”

He wasn’t able to say more because Callum lifted his hands above his head. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I’m going home!”

His joy was so touching. He’d get the happy ending they’d all hoped for.

Callum bounded over to Charity’s father. “Can I talk to them? Do you have their new numbers?”

Her father handed him a slip of paper and his phone. “You can take my phone with you on the drive. Just remember to give it back to Charity at the clinic. Get your things and wait by the maroon truck. She and Enzo will drive you.”

Oh, that was why her father had asked them both to stay behind. Apparently he’d noticed that Enzo hadn’t paid much attention to Charity for the last six days, and decided to play matchmaker. She had no way to tell him that spending time with Enzo was the last thing she wanted right now.

Callum took off like a shot, leaving a trail of “Yeses” in his wake.

Her father bit into his eggs, eating as quickly as possible.

Charity leaned toward him and whispered, “Don’t send me with Enzo. Pick someone else.”

Her mother scrunched her nose. “Why would you say that? It’s a perfectly normal request.” She said this as though Charity’s objection was that the matchmaking was too obvious. “You can do some shopping for us while you’re in Kansas City. You’ll have fun.”

Well, this was what Charity got for keeping last night’s disaster to herself. She should’ve told her mother that she didn’t want to be around Enzo for a while.

Charity couldn’t say anything more on the subject though because Enzo strolled over to their table. “You have an assignment for me?”

Her father finished off a bite of food. “Yes, I want you and Charity to deliver Callum to his parents at the clinic.” He pulled another scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to Charity. “Here’s a list of things to buy in the city. Don’t stay too long, though. You shouldn’t be on the road at night.”

Sending them together was a horrible idea. She tried to convey this to her father through silent wide-eyed pleadings, but he didn’t notice. He was looking at Enzo, who seemed equally unhappy about the assignment. And that made this all the worse. Enzo didn’t want to be around her either.

“I’m not the best one to take Callum,” Enzo said. “Someone might recognize me in Kansas City. Remember, my old boss threatened action against me.”

Her father kept eating, unconcerned. “In a place of half a million people, the chances are low you’ll run into anyone who knows you, and even lower that you’ll run into anyone who knows your boss filed an action against you. I want you to go because you’re familiar with the city. You’ll know good places to shop.” Her father gave Enzo a meaningful look. “And perhaps some unreputable places as well.”

Enzo’s eyebrows lifted. “That depends on what you want to buy. As a data entry clerk, I didn’t have a lot of dealings with the black market.”

Her father held up his hand to stop Enzo’s protest. “I don’t want anything that would shock you. Only antibiotics, pain meds, that sort of thing. Out here, we can’t run to a city every time we need a prescription. We need medicine on hand. You can get that sort of thing, can’t you?”

“Oh.” Enzo rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess.”

Charity had hoped Enzo’s protests would prevent the two of them from being forced together for the day, but no. It would fall to her to rearrange her father’s plans.

“I can’t go,” she said. “The last time I went on a shopping expedition, slavers captured me. Just thinking about it gives me anxiety.” She put her hand to her chest. “I’m not ready to face the outside world again.”

Her mother’s gaze slid to her, creased with suspicion. Perhaps Charity didn’t look sufficiently anxious, which was ironic. She was anxious. “Milo should be the one to go,” she added. “He’s better at bartering.”

Her father shook his head. “You’re better with medicine. Besides, most of the stores have fixed prices.”

“Mom is better than me at?—”

“You need to get back on that horse,” her father insisted. He liked to pull out this phrase whenever she or her brothers failed at something. Hearing it now didn’t encourage her.

Charity pursed her lips. “Sometimes it’s okay not to get back on the horse. Sometimes the horse is trying to kill you.”

Enzo tilted his head in confusion. He’d obviously never heard the phrase before. “We’re riding horses to the city? Why would they try to kill us?”

Her father laughed at the questions. “You’ll take the maroon truck. Getting back on a horse after it throws you is just a saying about the necessity of doing hard things.”

“Horses throw you off?” Enzo asked. “I thought they liked people.”

Her father wiped his hands on his napkin. “If I ever assign you to take care of a rancher’s horses, remind me of this conversation.” He stood and motioned for Charity and Enzo to follow him. “You’ll need to take guns with you. I’ll see if we have any bullets that fit Enzo’s.”

Enzo followed him. Charity stayed at the table for a few moments, silently protesting the assignment. Her father didn’t even notice.

Fine . She had no choice, and the whole day would be horribly awkward. She got up and trailed after the other two.

By the time she reached her parents’ bunkhouse, her father had put the metal lockbox on top of his bed. He opened the lid, revealing the weapons inside.

Enzo’s eyes grew wide, and he let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the stash. Where did you get it?”

Fortunately, most of the guns and ammo had already been sent to New Salem. The safe held a few battered guns that belonged to other harvesters, her family’s Glock, the tranquilizer gun her father kept for when they had to work with unruly cattle, and a Magnum they’d taken from a slaver at the last market.

Enzo gaped at the boxes of ammo they’d gotten at the same time. Specifically, a box of gold-tinged specialty bullets. None of them knew what sort of specialty, but her father hoped they could be a valuable trade.

He handed Enzo’s gun to him. “We liberated the rifle and ammo from some slavers when we freed Callum.”

Enzo picked up one of the gold bullets and rolled it between his fingers. “These are armor-piercing. Only the government is supposed to have them. If the authorities found them on you, you’d be in trouble.”

So they couldn’t be traded. Her father nodded but instead of seeming worried about that information, he brightened. He would no doubt send them to New Salem in their next shipment for the city’s arsenal.

“How do you know about the bullets?” she asked.

Enzo shrugged, unphased by the question. “I did data entry for some government supplies. I had to know which category different ammunition went into. I also know way too much about boots, blankets, and solar charges.” Enzo opened a box of pellets that could have possibly fit his gun and picked one up. “They’re not the right size.”

“Then you’ll have to take the Magnum.” Her father gave the slaver’s gun to Enzo and held out the Glock to Charity.

She didn’t take it. “You think we’ll need two guns?” Did he know something about this trip that he couldn’t say with Enzo standing there?

“No,” her father replied, “I just think you’ll feel better having two.”

She grudgingly took the Glock.

Her father shut the safe’s lid and locked the box. “If you can, spend a little time with Callum’s parents and see what they’re like.” Meaning, he considered Callum a good candidate for New Salem and wondered about his parents. Did her father want her to make a plug for the community to them?

She tucked the gun into her pocket. “I doubt I’ll be able to get to know very much about them. We’re just dropping Callum off.”

Her father slid the box underneath his bed. “You’re a better judge of character than you give yourself credit for.”

He did want her to talk to them about New Salem. She inwardly groaned. They’d think she was crazy, a near stranger asking them to give up everything and move to an unknown settlement in the breakaway states. “I probably won’t have a lot of time to talk to them,” she insisted.

“Do your best.”

Callum bounded through the bunkhouse door. “Let’s go,” he chimed. “What are you guys waiting for?”

A good excuse not to go. Or divine intervention. But apparently, that wouldn’t happen either.

The three set off to the truck. Callum raced ahead, practically dancing on the balls of his feet. Enzo took out the rifle’s magazine and checked it. Perhaps that was warranted since burn marks spotted the gun.

“It works,” she said. “We’ve tested it.”

He replaced the magazine. “You know, it’s dangerous to test a gun if it might be damaged.”

He was probably right, but she didn’t want to talk about any of the decisions she, Milo, and Zia had made at the market. “Sometimes you don’t have much of a choice.”

Enzo’s voice grew soft, and his pace slowed. “I’m sorry. I know this trip will be hard for you. Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes that helps.”

Right. Like she was going to open up to him again. “I’m going to give repressing the memories a try.” She hit the key fob to unlock the truck’s doors. The truck bed had been fitted with a reinforced, locked shell to keep their items safe. She tucked that key around her neck. “Do you want to drive or ride shotgun? Or, in this case, handgun.”

“I’ll drive.”

Callum climbed into the backseat. Charity threw Enzo the truck key, opened the passenger side door, and slumped into her seat. Neither of them spoke as they drove toward the main road. Callum talked so animatedly to his parents that the silence between Charity and Enzo was hardly noticeable. Too bad they would lose service as soon as they got out of range of the farming compounds’ cell towers. Otherwise, the two could just ignore each other and pretend they were being silent for Callum’s sake.

Enzo cut a glance at her. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t have the right to worry about her now after he’d cared so little about hurting her last night. Why had he even kissed her? At the thought, she couldn’t help but remember the way his mouth had moved softly on hers, as though he were tasting her lips. His hand had gone from her waist to her back and pulled her to him. He had held her there, pressed against him like he didn’t want to let her go.

“Not having any flashbacks?” Enzo asked.

His words jarred her from the memory. “What?”

“Flashbacks about that day at the market.”

“Oh, um, no.” I’m having completely unrelated thoughts … about other normal things.

The farmland they passed was so orderly. Rows of corn. Rows of trees. Such a change from the wild, tangled places they would be driving through soon.

His gaze slid to her again. “You seem jumpy. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Yes. Some things are best forgotten.” In order to function, she needed to forget about last night. The problem was that questions kept popping up. When he’d told her that he hadn’t had a girlfriend in five years, she’d assumed he hadn’t kissed anyone during that time—that his kiss with her meant something.

But he’d never said he hadn’t kissed other women. As good as he was at it, he probably had. Maybe he was the type of man who avoided commitment but was fine seeing how many women he could have a fling with.

“We can talk about something else if you want.” The corner of Enzo’s mouth lifted in a half-grin. “We could talk about waltzing.”

Nope. She couldn’t say what she wanted to say about that subject with Callum in the backseat.

Enzo’s grin grew. “When are you planning on practicing again? I could help you.”

Yep, this was all a game to him. He’d made it clear he didn’t want her but was flirting anyway. “Thanks for your offer. I’ve decided I don’t like waltzing after all.”

“Pity. You were good at it.”

She shot him a sharp look. “I doubt you mean that. I’ve never waltzed with anyone before. You, on the other hand, have probably waltzed with more women than you remember.”

“Well, I’ll always remember waltzing with you. You shouldn’t give it up so easily.”

Why was he saying these things? Was it part of the game to reject a woman and then see if he could convince her to come back for more? Did his ego need that sort of attention?

She took off her jacket and balled it up to make a pillow. “I’m going to get some sleep while I can. I didn’t get a lot last night.”

She held her jacket to the side window, shut her eyes, and leaned against it. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, but at least this way, she didn’t have to keep talking to him.

Not long after that, the phone lost service. Callum, brimming with anticipation, had a hard time sitting still in the backseat. He kept asking if they could drive faster. “Hitting a few potholes shouldn’t hurt this truck,” he said.

“You don’t need to worry,” Enzo said. “We’ll get there in plenty of time.”

They had a couple of hours of cushion just in case they ran into any problems.

Probably to distract Callum, Enzo asked him what he would do after he recovered from surgery.

Callum already had a list. Most involved spending time with his parents, getting caught up with his friends, and eating everything he’d missed over the last nine months. “I’m also going to get a gun,” he said. “And I’ll never go anywhere without it.”

“That will be hard if you plan on returning to tech school,” Enzo said. Laws didn’t allow guns on campus.

“I don’t know if I’ll go back.” Callum’s voice turned bitter. “The government needs to protect its schools better. The slavers targeted us. They needed tech support for their organization, and they knew where to get it.”

“How did they capture you?” Enzo asked.

“I was walking home from a game with a friend. And okay, we’d been out at a party and were out past curfew, but we should’ve been fine on campus. It’s supposed to be secure. A van pulled up to us, and a bunch of men with guns jumped out. We didn’t stand a chance.” Callum’s voice dropped. “My parents say Amir still hasn’t been found.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe the information you took from the slavers will help the authorities find him.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I’d like to see if I could track them down electronically, but my mom doesn’t want me to have anything else to do with the case. She thinks it’s too dangerous. The ironic thing is she wants me to go back to school, and that’s what put me in danger in the first place. What’s to keep another group of slavers from driving onto campus? The security guards didn’t keep them away.”

He had a point. Security guards could be bribed, threatened, or killed.

Enzo tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. “I’m not saying you made the wrong decision to get in the slavers’ van. You’re alive and on your way back to your family. But in the future, if you turn and run, there’s only a fifty percent chance they’ll shoot at you. They don’t gain much by killing you. If they do shoot, their chances of hitting you are about fifty percent, and if they hit you, you’ve still got a fifty percent chance the injury won’t be fatal. Statistically, it’s almost always better to run.”

How did Enzo know things like that? Was that the sort of thing you learned when you lived in the city? She’d always been told city dwellers were safer than country folk because they had more police around. But maybe not.

“On the other hand,” Enzo went on, “if you do get a gun, you need to learn how to use it. A lot of people hesitate to shoot another human being, and criminals know that. If you let them get close enough, they’ll snatch your gun away, and they won’t have any qualms about using it on you.”

“Good to know,” Callum said. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t hesitate.”

Chilling, but understandable.

Callum went on talking about school and whether he should go back. “I’d planned to eventually work for the government. Now I’m not sure. My parents said the authorities hardly did anything to find Amir and me. They just listed us as missing persons.”

His voice turned bitter. “When my parents’ cell phone network went down, and they lost their phone numbers, they petitioned the Communications Department to have their old numbers reinstated. They knew if I ever had a chance, I’d call them. The officials had them fill out a bunch of forms, but that was six months ago, and their petition still hasn’t been granted.”

Callum grunted in anger. “It took them over a month to track down my parents and arrange an appointment at the clinic. They don’t pay for the removal, by the way. My parents have to take out a huge loan for the hospital, and they can’t leave the city until it’s paid off. If they didn’t both have remote jobs, I’d be stuck wearing this thing for another year. Why should I work for the government when they don’t even take care of their own people?”

Enzo sighed loud enough for Charity to hear it. “Because if good people don’t work for the government, then things will never change.”

Well, that comment said something about Enzo. He was one of the people who thought the government could change. He would probably never want to move to New Salem or live in a breakaway state. So where did that leave her?

When the truck got near the city entrance, Charity pretended to wake up. The trees had thinned, revealing the fifteen-foot city walls. Gray and brown buildings protruded over the lesser structures like rows of stained teeth. Cities always looked so unnatural, with their rectangular, jutting buildings. Everything was dingy and graffitied.

The group pulled up to a gate with several lanes going in and out. Security guards sat in booths checking the vehicles.

Charity accessed their entrance order on her father’s phone, and the guards waved them through without comment.

All the old movies made city life seem so glamorous. Beautiful people in sophisticated clothes chatted in penthouse apartments that overlooked the glowing buildings. In real life, the view on the street was a lot less appealing.

Office buildings huddled side by side, seeking warmth from each other. A flat, dirty river of pavement spread everywhere. Scattered, spindly trees stood around, as though they’d wandered in and gotten stuck between the cement slabs of the sidewalk.

Charity clipped the phone on the dash so Enzo could use the map. He hardly seemed to check it.

She studied the map. “There’s a supermarket a mile from the hospital. We’ll go there after we drop Callum off. Any idea where we can find black market drugs?”

Callum answered instead of Enzo. “Try a place called Speedy’s Pharmacy. The slavers went there for stuff.”

She looked it up on the map. Speedy’s was in the heart of downtown, only about five miles from the clinic. “Thanks for the tip.”

Callum leaned over, looking out the windows. “At least my time spent with criminals was good for something.”

When they pulled up to the hospital, a middle-aged couple was waiting outside between the building and the parking garage. The man, tall with reddish-blond hair and a beard, stood beside a curvy woman with tan skin and a mop of curly brown hair. Their hopeful eyes scanned the area.

“Stop!” Callum told Enzo. He rolled down the window and waved to his parents. “Mom! Dad!”

Before the truck even came to a complete stop, Callum leaped out and ran to his parents. He put an arm around each, and they enveloped him into a sobbing hug. It was perhaps the most touching thing Charity had ever seen. She watched them unabashedly until Enzo pulled into the parking garage, and she lost sight of them.

He drove the car expertly into one of the spaces. “I’m glad I got to see that. It’s a reminder that…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

Charity hadn’t planned on speaking to Enzo unless she had to, but curiosity got the best of her, “A reminder of what?”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “A reminder that trying to break into your father’s gun safe to save Callum wasn’t so stupid. Saving others is worth some personal sacrifice.”

She didn’t comment, and the two walked the rest of the way to Callum’s family in silence.

When they reached the Newmans, Callum’s mother turned to Charity, looking like she’d like to discard conventions and throw her arms around her. “You’re the one who saved Callum? I can’t tell you how thankful we are.”

Mrs. Newman’s hand went to her chest, emphasizing her words. “We’d like to repay you. I don’t know what we can do for you and your family, but there must be something. Perhaps once we find a place to live, you could stay with us, and we could help you get some sort of training so you can work in the city.”

Mr. Newman put his arm around his wife. “We don’t mean to imply that harvesting isn’t a good job if that’s what you want to do. If you’re ever looking for more options, though, we’ll see what we can do to assist you.”

Their offer was touching, especially since they had to take a loan out to pay for Callum’s surgery. They weren’t people with a lot of means.

Well, Charity’s father was right about her being able to tell whether they were good people, which meant she’d have to talk to them about New Salem. But she wouldn’t do it with Enzo listening.

She turned to him. “I’ll stay at the clinic for a few minutes to tell the physicians what tests my mother already did on Callum so the Newmans don’t have to pay to have them run again.” It was a flimsy excuse. The doctors wouldn’t take a country nurse’s word for anything. Charity handed him the key and the shopping list. “I’ll meet you at the grocery store when I finish.”

Since the store was only a mile away, she could walk the distance.

His chin dipped in surprise. “You’re just giving me the truck? You trust me to get the stuff?”

“I won’t be that long. I’ll bring the money with me.”

His gaze locked on hers, and he seemed to know she had other motives, but he headed back to the parking garage. She walked with the Newmans into the clinic. They’d made good time driving. The surgery check-in wasn’t for another couple of hours.

“Can we buy you some lunch at the cafeteria?” Mrs. Newman asked.

“I’d like that.” Charity didn’t say much more because Callum asked questions about family, neighbors, and friends.

The group got their food and found a table in the corner of the room. It was mostly empty since the lunch hour hadn’t started.

Charity told the Newmans what tests her mother had run—ones for parasites and infections. Mr. Newman politely entered the information on his phone, but he too had to know that the doctors would run all of the tests again.

Charity wasn’t sure how to segue into asking the Newmans if they’d ever consider giving up their lives for an unknown city in a breakaway state, so she didn’t say much through lunch except for the times when Callum talked about being a harvester.

“You ought to take up my parents’ offer of getting some training,” he told Charity. “Hauling crops around is nearly as bad as slavery, except everyone is a lot nicer and the food is way better.” He gave the remainder of his sandwich a forlorn look. “I’m going to miss some of the food, actually. Homemade bread is way better than the stuff they sell here.”

“Callum is a hard worker,” Charity said. “Plus, he fixed my father’s laptop, and my phone has never worked better. I might have enough memory on it now to download some new books. We’re glad he found his family, but we’re sorry to see him go.”

Mrs. Newman gave Callum a side hug, and her lips trembled with emotion. “He’s always been…” Whatever she meant to say wavered, lost under the weight of her feelings.

Charity ought to leave the family alone so they could enjoy their reunion in private.

Here went nothing. “I can tell the two of you are exceptional parents because you raised him so well. I wouldn’t normally say this to people I hardly know…” This was especially true since they sat in a hospital cafeteria where they might be recorded. She would have to keep her offer vague. “My father and I know we could never tempt you with a job of a harvester, but my father plans to be in politics someday. He’s always looking for good people to be on his team. He wanted me to talk to you about that.”

She’d been too vague. The Newmans looked at her in confusion. “What sort of team?” Mr. Newman asked.

“A team of people who are upstanding, intelligent, and hard workers. There’s a benefit to a co-op, to people who work together for the common good. We can accomplish so much more than individuals working by themselves. My father would someday like to take that idea and employ it in a bigger model, a city full of people working for the good of the community.” She wouldn’t admit that New Salem already existed until they showed interest.

The Newmans exchanged a glance, more worried than interested. They were smart enough to read the subtext. Building a city of cooperative people wasn’t something the government would approve of.

“Where would the city be?” Mrs. Newman asked, “And what would people there be doing?”

Charity shrugged as though she hadn’t given that part of the issue much thought. “It doesn’t matter where it is as long as the people work together.”

Mr. Newman stirred his coffee, an unspoken sigh on his lips. “Countries tried that sort of thing at different times in history. From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs . It’s a nice theory that always goes horribly when implemented.”

Communism. Charity knew all about why it failed. Her father had thoroughly studied its problems in order to avoid them. “Communism took away private property and incentives for hard work. That system became just another way for corrupt men to grab political power. We’re not aiming for that. Think of this city as cooperative democracy.”

Mr. Newman took a sip of his drink. “Russia claimed to be a democracy. As they say, it doesn’t matter who votes. It only matters who counts the votes.”

Charity smiled. “I knew Callum’s parents would be smart. But it’s a lot harder to rig an election in a city where most people know each other.”

Callum lowered his voice. “Does the city already exist?”

She couldn’t answer that question until she was sure of them. They could report her. “Would it make a difference if it did?”

Mr. Newman set his coffee cup down. “It would make a difference to the government.”

“You’re right,” Charity said. “And that’s why I’m only finding out your feelings in a theoretical sort of way. How happy are you with the government that didn’t protect your son, didn’t do anything to find and retrieve him from slavery, and wouldn’t even let you retain your old phone numbers? Is that the type of system you want to live under?”

Callum let out a slow whistle. “You know the government is going to retake the breakaway states, don’t you? All the cities there will end up under government control eventually.”

“Maybe,” Charity said. “Maybe not.”

Callum leaned toward her, his gaze intense. “You saved my life. I don’t want to see you throw away yours.”

She apparently wasn’t very good at convincing people to join their cause. Her father really should’ve been the one to come. “We’re not throwing our lives away. We’re trying to make them better. Ours and other people’s lives.”

Callum shook his head. “I should’ve known something was going on with your co-op. You all were too happy, too nice, and too smart to just be harvesters.”

Charity wasn’t sure how to respond to that allegation. Thank you or That’s insulting—to both harvesters and other happy, nice, smart people . She opened and shut her mouth.

Callum’s parents exchanged another glance. “The government has its problems,” Mr. Newman said, “but the one thing I know with certainty is that I don’t want to get on their bad side.”

That was a pass, then. She hadn’t given them a compelling enough reason to join New Salem, and now they were gathering up their dishes, clearly done with the meal, the conversation, and her.

Mrs. Newman pushed her chair away from the table. “I meant what I said earlier. If there’s anything we can ever do for you, let us know.”

“As soon as I get a new phone,” Callum added, “I’ll text so you have my number. I owe you. I won’t forget that.”

Charity smiled, even though once her family moved to New Salem, the phone number wouldn’t work anymore. The government blocked access across the breakaway states.

She wished them all well and left the hospital feeling like she’d failed.