Free The Industry by Rose Foster Page B

it. She was lying on her side, sprawled on the concrete, and he was close, much closer than he’d ever been. It was then Kirra realised he was holding her head in his other hand. On the floor beside him were two plates, one full and the other empty.
    â€˜Are you alright?’ he asked.
    Kirra’s reply emerged in the form of a strangled groan. Milo yanked off his coat and bundled it up. He stuffed it beneath her head and sat back to review his effort. Kirra had to concede that it was a much more comfortable pillow than her scrunched-up school dress. He slid the plate of food across the concrete. The tips of his fingers were still white from the cold.
    â€˜How’d you get this?’ Kirra asked softly.
    He shrugged. ‘Dialled three for room service.’
    He waited for her to laugh. When she didn’t, he said, ‘They brought it in while you were out.’
    â€˜Oh,’ was all she could manage.
    Without meeting Kirra’s eye, he folded his pocket into a perfect rectangle and laid it across her forehead. She examined him closely. He looked strangely distressed. Why should he care about her at all, especially when they annoyed each other so much?
    When Kirra’s head stopped spinning, she heaved herself up and found the wall to lean against.
    â€˜How long was I out?’ she asked, her voice croaky.
    â€˜Not long. A few minutes maybe.’ His hands were balled into clenched fists.
    â€˜You should eat,’ he told her after a while, breaking the weird moment in which there seemed to be almost no mutual dislike.
    Kirra scrutinised her plate. It was unusually full.
    â€˜I ate already,’ Milo said.
    Kirra frowned at him. In a flash, she pushed half the meal — tinned tuna and plain slices of wholemeal bread — back onto his plate.
    â€˜No! It’s not … I had mine!’
    â€˜Don’t lie,’ she muttered, drawing her plate into her lap.
    â€˜You should have it,’ he said weakly, though he looked longingly at the meal. ‘Gotta keep you alive.’
    â€˜It could be days before they remember again. Just eat it.’
    He sighed and took his plate. They ate together in silence and, to Kirra’s surprise, she found she didn’t mind that he hadn’t returned to his corner straightaway.

CHAPTER NINE
THE OTHER INCENTIVE
    Kirra awoke with a start as two hands grabbed her and lifted her swingingly towards the door. She saw Milo wake just as the door to the cell was slammed shut between them.
    The recruit hauled her to the long, darkened room she despised so much. She expected her heart to explode into a flurry of panic as he strapped her into the chair, then left her to contemplate the approaching agony of Balcescu’s drug, but, strangely, she was completely composed. Losing Lena had changed things, she guessed.
    Balcescu was already placing vials on the tables around her, hooking her up to the heart monitor and finding a vein for the catheter. As always, he seemed detached from his environment and his work, only glancing at Kirra once before Latham strode into the room.
    â€˜Good morning, Kirra.’
    She said nothing.
    Latham laid a piece of paper on a table and cleared his throat. ‘Now, you know the drill, Kirra. Balcescu has your dose ready.’ He handed her a pen. ‘Be a good girl.’
    She studied him closely for many seconds before she spoke.
    â€˜Why did you kill her?’ she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
    Latham frowned. ‘Why did I …? Oh, I see. Lena meant something to you. Well, Lena broke the rules trying to escape with you, Kirra. She had to be punished. It was unfortunate, but necessary.’
    Lena had to be punished? Punishment was something that involved after-school detention. What Latham had done to Lena wasn’t punishment.
    â€˜Let me tell you something,’ he continued, crouching to her level as though she required eye contact to retain critical information.