Free The Line Book One: Carrier by Anne Tibbets Page A

could think, after asking Shirel, was to get a bulletin first thing in the morning to check the job listings. Then I could ship off Evie, find another replacement and join her later. That was the best I could think of.
    And it all had to happen before the babies were born.
    Six months and twenty-one days left.
    It was an awful plan. And I knew it.
    My vision faded. As active as my mind swirled, my body was spent.
    I lay on my cot and tried to think some more, of a better idea, but I drifted off to sleep.
    * * *
    The next morning I awoke with a start. Shirel and Oliv were yelling at each other, again. Gretchen chimed in every now and then, adding nothing of worth.
    It took a moment or two for me to fully awaken before I managed to understand what they were saying.
    “You don’t know?” Shirel pointed a sharp finger into Oliv’s chest.
    “I’m not her mother. How the hell would I know?”
    “Yeah, Shirel. How the hell would she know?” Gretchen asked.
    “Shut up, Gretchen.”
    “She talked about sweeping, that was all.” Oliv sat on her cot and slipped on her ratty shoes.
    “Maybe she went to work early,” Gretchen offered.
    I glanced at Evie’s cot. It was empty.
    I gasped aloud.
    Shirel reeled on me. “You know where she’s gone?” She pointed her finger at me now.
    “I hope not.”
    She had no patience for my cryptic answer. “What?” Her face had gone an odd shade of pink. “Come on. Either you know, or you don’t—spit it out!”
    “I think she’s gone to the Line.”
    Oliv’s mouth dropped open. Gretchen actually smirked, and Shirel looked stricken.
    “You kidding me?”
    I told them an abridged version of my conversation with Evie the night before.
    “And you let her go?” Shirel shrieked.
    “N-No,” I sputtered. “I told her to wait. That’d we talk about it this morning. I was going to ask you—”
    “Stupid!” Shirel spat, and she kicked the leg of the cot to her right. “And you thought she’d actually listen?”
    Oliv shook her head in disappointment and stood. “What a dumb kid. She’s wrecked now.”
    Gretchen shrugged and turned to leave. “Oh, well. You tried.”
    Shirel was the only one who seemed aghast. “We have to stop her!”
    Gretchen waved Shirel off and went out the door, no doubt to try to be first in line at the recycling factory.
    Oliv raised an eyebrow at Shirel. “Look, it was her choice. Nothing you can do about it. Sounds to me like she thought it through.”
    “She’s ten years old!” Shirel turned a brighter red.
    Oliv shrugged and went to the door. “What are you going to do? Bring her back here? You can’t take care of her. You don’t have enough to feed yourself! Why do you think her mom took off? Don’t get me wrong, I agree it sucks. But we can’t save her. She’s on her own and she’s made her choice.” With a final glance at me, Oliv left.
    Shirel looked ready to pummel her, so it was probably best she had. After a few moments of labored breathing, she turned her fiery eyes back on me. “I’m going after her. You coming?”
    I could think of a million reasons why I didn’t want to, but I knew this was my fault. “Okay.”
    * * *
    We walked several blocks down 14th Street and turned right on Avenue X, headed straight to the Line. Shirel led. I think she knew I didn’t really want to go.
    At the prospect of returning, my bones felt electric. Shaky.
    It was like walking back into a nightmare, not that I knew what those were. I hadn’t dreamed in years.
    As we got closer and closer, all my newfound emotions boiled over, bubbling hot vapor under my skin. Toxic fumes seeped from my pores, poisoning the world and those around me and covering me with the sticky, smelly sweat of panic.
    I was about to reenter hell.
    Torture.
    Pure, untethered, emotional torture.
    Suddenly the brightness of the sun was too bright. The pavement under my feet was too hard and dirty. The grotesque air of Central grew too thick to breathe.
    When we got to the