not saying don't do it.
I'm all for helping Kai out a bit. Just be careful.” Madge flicks
her eyes up to the observation booth and back down just as quickly.
She has to be right about what she said yesterday—there's no way
the watchers can pinpoint one conversation out of dozens, is
there?
We don't say anything more, however, because two
soldiers march right up to our table.
“ Worker 7456.”
I almost choke on the apple skin and nod, my eyes
streaming tears. I glance over at Kai as she slips the last pancake
under the table. They don't notice; they're too focused on me.
“ You're requested for
interrogation.” They reach down and each grabs one of my arms, but
I pull free and stand on my own. I still have a little dignity and
they're not going to take it. I look at the remaining sausages and
the milk on my tray. So much for breakfast.
My cellmate's eyebrows raise as I turn away, and it
almost looks like she's worried. Then Madge does the last thing I
expect: she reaches over and pats my cellmate's arm consolingly.
Maybe my cellmate isn't quite the empty girl I thought she was.
Eyes watch me as I follow one
soldier through the cafeteria door. The other follows behind, and
we make a parade that terrifies me because I have no idea where
we're going. I don't know what I'm to be interrogated about; I
can't tell them anything. I also
seriously doubt the interrogation is just about
questions.
The soldier leads me down one gray corridor to
another, and soon I'm so turned around that I have no idea how far
into the building we are or how I'd ever find my way back. Then he
abruptly stops before a windowless door and raps it with gloved
knuckles three times.
The door opens and a cool, female voice speaks.
“Enter.”
The first soldier stands aside, and the one behind
me prods me into the room. Then he leaves too, and I'm left in a
brightly lit room with nothing more than an empty chair, a table,
and two chairs occupied by an agent and Dr. Benedict.
Dr. Benedict smiles warmly at me. I can't bring
myself to return the feeling, not with the agent—the same one who
brought me to detox—sitting next to him with her arms folded and a
scowl carved deep into her face. I stand and shift my weight to the
other foot. Should I sit down? I don't want to get any closer to
that woman than I have to, but after a moment, Dr. Benedict
glances at the agent, bites his lip, and then gestures to the chair
across from him. I sit.
The agent unfolds her arms and picks up a digital
tablet. She taps the screen twice and then flicks her fingers over
its smooth surface. Her eyes dart across the screen, and she raises
her eyebrows.
“ Terra?”
I'm not sure if she's talking to me or
Dr. Benedict.
Dr. Benedict shrugs. “You know how I feel about
names.”
The agent rolls her eyes. “Stop
taking your work so personally .”
Dr. Benedict crosses his arms and looks
away.
The agent purses her lips. “Worker 7456. You've been
here almost twenty-four hours. Are your accommodations
suitable?”
I nod. A little chilly maybe, but if I asked her to
turn up the heat I doubt she would. She raises her eyes to see what
my answer is. I study her hair. It's pulled back so tightly into a
bun it raises her eyebrows at the ends, making her look angry all
the time.
“ Any conflict with your
roommate?”
I shake my head. She wants to be a therapist too? I
suspect she just doesn't want any fighting among the inmates—fewer
people to work if there are injuries. All her terms almost make me
laugh. Accommodations? Roommate? Next she'll be calling my
ten-by-ten cell “guest quarters.”
“ Good. Now let's get down to the
meat of the questions, shall we?” She leans forward and laces her
fingers together. Her steely blue eyes bore into me, and I sit up
and stare back. I won't be frightened, not now. I have to repeat it
three times in my head. I won't be frightened. I won't be
frightened. I won't be frightened.
“ Tell me, Worker 7456, why have