HELPER12, Jack Blaine [reading in the dark .TXT] 📗

“Wha?”  I hear him mumble as he wakes.  Then, quietly, “What’s happened to your eye there, girl?”  He doesn’t sound as though he’s concerned.  He sounds like a predator, smelling blood.

Kris doesn’t say anything.

I see his hand, snaking over to her knee.  She moves as far away from him as her seat allows, but she doesn’t say anything at all.  I know why; I know what she’s thinking as well as if she were telling me herself.  Trouble here, trouble there.  If she makes a scene, who knows what the Director will do.  He’s got her out where she isn’t supposed to be, doing—what exactly?  Has he sold her, too?  Did he use her himself before this little excursion, where he’ll deliver her to whoever paid him?

The hand slithers toward Kris’s thigh.

“Do you like that?”  It’s Thomas, speaking softly to the Laborer.

“Wha?”

“I said, do you like that?”

The hand stops.  “What do you mean?”  The Laborer sounds suspicious.

“I mean,” says Thomas, “do you like what you’re doing there?”

I sneak a glance backwards, at the Director. He’s studying a reader, oblivious to the scene playing out here.

“Who wouldn’t like it?”  The Laborer keeps his voice low.  “Unless you’re some sort of kink.”

Thomas lets go of my hand and reaches into his coat pocket.  When his hand reappears next to mine, he’s holding a short, sharp knife.  The blade glints in the light.  He holds it so the Laborer can see it.

“Do you like it,” whispers Thomas, “better than you like your hand?”

The Laborer is silent.  His hand stays where it is on Kris’s leg.

“They won’t do a thing to me, you know.”  Thomas keeps his tone conversational.  “You’re a common Laborer.”

The tram slows, approaching another stop.  People begin to board, pushing into the already crowded car. The Laborer makes a disgusted sound, and gets up from his seat.  He pushes past Kris roughly and makes his way to the exit.  Almost immediately, a woman takes his place, heaving a sigh of relief as she sits down.

“Thank you, sir.”  Kris speaks as quietly as she can, fear and gratitude mingled in her voice.  “Thank you so much, and thanks to your lady, too.  You’ve got a brave man, miss.”

When I say nothing, I see her lean slightly forward.  “Are you all right, miss?”  She says it softly.  She doesn’t want to attract any attention.

I look up.  When our eyes meet, hers widen immediately.  I hold her gaze as long as I can, pleading with her silently, hoping that she won’t give me away.  She could; it might help her situation, and I see this realization go through her mind.  I watch her as she looks from me to Thomas to Jobee, as she puts together the pieces of evidence we’re presenting, in order to arrive at her conclusion.

“Next stop, waterfront!”  The announcement blares over the loudspeakers.

The bruise looks bad.  He hit her really hard, whoever hit her, whether it was the Director or some other man.  I wish I could tell her how sorry I am that it happened. I wish I could tell her I’ve missed her.

I wonder what she’ll do.

Thomas gets our bags together and stands up.  He steps into the main aisle and back, in order to let me and Jobee get out in front of him.  He keeps his back toward the Director, as do I.  I see Kris look past us, toward where the Director is sitting.  I don’t stand up.  I’m waiting.

Kris looks back at me then, and she studies me carefully.  She looks at Jobee, who is gurgling to himself and trying to grab my chin.  She smiles, the faintest curve at her lips, the saddest smile I think I’ve ever seen.  Her eyes return to mine, and she nods, ever so slightly.

I stand immediately, and as I turn to go, I reach out, and touch her hand with mine.  Just one touch.

I don’t look back when we get off the tram.

Chapter Thirty Four

I’m still shaking when we get to the ship’s gangway.  Thomas speaks to a man there, and the man checks a list.

“Almost missed boarding,” says the man, shaking his head at us.  He looks down at the two bags we have with us.  “Is that all?”

Thomas nods.  “We’ll keep those with us.”

The man shrugs.  “You’re on C Deck, 47B.”  He hands Thomas a chip.  “Rules and regulations, meal schedules and emergency procedures on that.  Review it when you’re settled in your cabin, please.”  He points to a doorway on his left.  “That way.”

We go through what seems to me to be a maze of passageways and stairways, until we reach the deck that Thomas says is ours.  Jobee is getting cranky.  There’s been too much jostling today, too many new sights and sounds for him.  Finally, we come to a door with 47B marked on it.

The cabin is small, but it’s private.  There’s not much more than a bed and a bathroom.  I lay Jobee on the bed and get his bottle ready.  As soon as I’ve changed him, I prop him up with the pillows and let him eat.

“Where did you get that knife?”

Thomas grins.  “Wicked looking, isn’t it?”  He takes it out of his pocket to show me.  “Deen slipped it to me.  He said I might need it someday.  He was right.”

I shake my head.  “I thought she was going to report us.”

“She was the girl from your drawing, wasn’t she?”

I’m surprised he remembers.

“Yes.”

Thomas sits next to me on the bed.  He strokes Jobee’s arm, watching him drift to sleep.

“Was she a friend?”

I think about that.  “I guess she really was, after all.”

“She looked like she was in trouble.”  Thomas frowns.  “I wish we could have done something.”

“You did do something.”

“Not enough.”

“No.  But you did what you could do.”

I can’t relax; Thomas is lying on the bed with Jobee, but I want the ship to move.  I sit on the edge of the single chair in the cabin.

“It’s almost time, Benna.”  Thomas watches