Okay, so maybe I didn’t want to admit to him that I’d been stalking his admirer, but I needed to assess Ansel’s threat potential before I approached him, and I was curious about what sort of life the other half lives. Part of me wondered if I could do it too, work a factory job, return to my concrete box, lay down my knives and weapons and just… assimilate.
Regardless, Kitten had really worked himself into a state. I hadn’t realized my absence was bothering him so much. He knew he could reach me by two-way radio any time of day.
“Some of what I do requires secrecy,” I said to him. “And if you were to tell anyone, we both might get into trouble.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“You’re not good at keeping secrets, which is something I really appreciate about you. It’s the reasonwhyI trust you, because I don’t have to worry that you’re lying to me.”
Arms crossed, he continued to sulk.
“Come here,” I said, and he reluctantly shuffled over. “I told you I was going to find your brother, and I am. The other thing I’m doing,” and here I nodded pointedly because I didn’t like to mention the bullet-making factory set up just down the hallway, “is technically illegal, and we could get in a lot of trouble if people found out.”
“I feel like you’re hiding things from me,” he said, hurting my heart with his sincerity.
He wasn’t wrong, but I had my reasons. “I arranged for Ansel to meet us here so that you could ask questions too, and hear the story for yourself.”
“That was nice of you.”
“Best boyfriend ever?” I asked hopefully.
“Pretty good,” he conceded.
Ansel arrived a few minutes later, still wearing his red Coca-Cola jumper, and the petty part of me wondered if he was showing off the fact that he could hold down a steady job and fit in with society. Would Kitten prefer to live here with running water and television and ice cream? To be able to go to the supermarket and library with access to a hospital in case of an emergency. His survival rate was probably much higher in the city, if he could learn to watch his back. The sort of life I could offer him was limited in many ways, even if we reached Promised Land.
“Sweet,” Ansel exclaimed, opening and shutting the fridge door. I’d placed an ice-cold bottle of Coke inside to prove its pristine freshness.
“You’d think I’d get tired of these, but I don’t,” he said, twisting the metal cap off the glass bottle using only the pressure of his muscular forearm. I nearly rolled my eyes at that cute parlor trick. Let us see how he did in a cage-full of Rabids.
“So, you knew Santiago?” I asked, getting right to the point.
“Yeah, we were assigned to the same floor in Prosperity Tower. He said he’d left behind his mother and brother, and that his mother was sick, but he didn’t say where he was from, exactly.”
“Was he healthy?” Kitten asked. “Was he well?”
“A little skinny, but otherwise, okay. We went looking for jobs together. He started at the plant with me, but he didn’t last long. He said the work was too hard and the pay was shit, which is true. By the time I’ve paid for rent and food, I barely have enough for a pack of cigarettes.”
“So then what happened?” I asked, not wishing to get into the finer points of Ansel’s budgetary constraints.
“There was a recruiter who came through Prosperity and was offering us all jobs for easy money and a bonus when it was all through.”
“Who was doing the recruiting? Military? Police? Factory work?” I asked.
“None of those,” Ansel said. “It wasn’t the usual kind of gig.”
I wished he would get to the fucking point, especially with the worry etched on Kitten’s face.
“So, what kind of work was it?” I asked.
“Lab work. There’s a team of researchers working on a vaccine over at the university.”
“They needed lab workers?” Kitten asked.
“Not exactly. They needed test subjects. They were doing human trials on a vaccine, and they needed young, healthy people to poke and see how they reacted. They were working with a live virus, so you had to stay onsite to prevent any transmission. And they were paying really,reallywell.”
Kitten was gnawing on his lower lip and fisting the fabric of his shirt. I grabbed one of his hands and squeezed.
“So, did he sign on?” I asked.
