The Cage (The Cage 1)
Page 65That had left Cora.
Cora, who had whispered reassurances in her ear when she’d huddled on the toy-store floor the first day. Cora, who had squeezed her hand when she couldn’t sleep, and told her she’d keep watch. Cora, who had caught her in a lie but hadn’t told the others. A girl who, in another life, could be her friend. But here, with her crazy theories about escape and desperate attacks on both Lucky and Rolf, Cora was only a threat.
Rolf was watching her expectantly. She cleared her throat.
“Maybe . . . Robin,” Nok said. “If it’s a girl. Or Wren. I’d like for my daughter to know what birds were, even if there aren’t any anymore.”
The bedroom door slammed upstairs, jolting Nok out of her thoughts. She jerked upright, swinging her feet off Rolf’s lap. Lucky appeared at the top of the stairs, hunched over. Blood covered the right side of his face.
Nok gasped. She and Rolf helped him down the stairs, and she pulled off the punk shirt over her black dress and dabbed at his face.
“It was Cora,” he choked. “She’s gone. She ran.”
“She did this to you?” Nok cried. She knew as well as anyone that Cora was growing more unstable, but this?
“She was scared.” Lucky buried his head in his hands.
“Scared?” Rolf sputtered. “Stop making excuses for her! How many times have we given her the benefit of the doubt? We ran the puzzles because she asked us to. We collected tokens because she asked us to. We told her the truth about Earth and she refused to accept it. She even broke your guitar. And now this—trying to kill you? She’s gone totally crazy!”
Lucky pressed a hand to his bleeding face. “I don’t think she was trying to kill me.”
Nok bit her lip, looking between them anxiously.
“Of course she was!” Rolf said. “She knows all about how to kill a person. You’ve heard her talk about making weapons out of teddy bears and things . . . I mean, who does that? She must have been some kind of social deviant back on Earth, some sociopath, and now her true tendencies are coming out.”
Nok chewed on her lip. “If that was true, wouldn’t the Kindred have stopped her?”
Rolf tossed her a look like she was a traitor for even daring to speak such a thing. “Why do you think they’ve kept her behind so many times? Why do you think the Caretaker keeps paying her the most attention? It’s because the Kindred know that they made a mistake putting her here, and that she’s dangerous. Didn’t you all see in the diner—she had a bone in her hand! No explanation. Just a bone. It was probably from that first girl who died. Who’s to say Cora didn’t kill her and hide the body?”
“Time doesn’t work the same way here,” Rolf answered curtly.
Nok flinched. Rolf had found his confidence and then some. She told herself he was just worried about the baby, and the threat Cora’s instability might pose. But the truth was, Rolf had always had a jealous streak. He was jealous when she smiled at Lucky. He was jealous when Cora got more tokens.
Nok raked her nails over her scalp. Her head throbbed so hard she could barely think. “I just can’t imagine Cora would do such a thing. If we could reason with her . . .”
Lucky’s eyes were dazed from the head wound, and he kept clutching at his chest like Cora had ripped the very heart from his chest.
“Maybe she isn’t malicious,” Rolf said quietly. “But we all know that she’s going crazy. For her own good, she can’t be allowed to just run free. None of us are safe with her on the loose. We have a baby to think of now. We need to find her and turn her over to the Kindred. They’ll give her the help she needs and put her in a place that’s right for her.”
Nok chewed on her lip. She glanced at Lucky, who looked like he wasn’t even listening. He kept pressing his fist against his heart, rubbing his chest, swallowing hard.
Maybe Rolf was right.
A figure materialized in the corner, dressed in black, but it wasn’t the Caretaker. It was a Kindred woman with dark hair, pulled back tight in a different style knot from Serassi’s. The same apparatus jutted out of her chest. The woman tugged off her thick black gloves.
“Who are you?” Rolf asked in a bewildered voice, looking just as shocked as Nok felt. “Where’s the Caretaker?”
“I am the substitute Caretaker. My name is Tessela. It is my responsibility to heal any minor injuries that do not require the medical officer’s attention.” She pressed her ungloved hand against Lucky’s bleeding temple. When she pulled back her hand, the wound was healed, the blood dried and crusted. “Due to this recent incident, the Warden has determined that the artifacts from Earth, such as the ceramic dog, are too dangerous; you cannot be trusted with them if you insist on hurting one another. The Warden has given the order to phase them out over the next week. They will be replaced with imitations.”
Nok gaped. The radio with the knobs that looked like a smiling face. The painting set. The books in the bookstore. They were replacing them with toys that would feel wrong and smell wrong.
As if sensing her thoughts, Tessela turned to her. “That goes for your child as well. The Warden has determined, given this violent incident, that your cohort is too unstable for a child to be raised among you. Once you deliver your child, we will transport it to the standard facility, where it will be cared for.” Tessela gripped the apparatus in her chest and, with a wave of pressure, flickered away.
Nok’s breath caught. Pain ripped through her head, but it was nothing compared to the panic flooding her chest. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. Her hands pressed against her abdomen protectively. They were going to take her baby away? All because of one fight? Her thoughts churned faster, panic rising. She had to fix this. She had to convince the Kindred—but she couldn’t win them over with a flirtatious smile, that was for sure.