CONFORMITY (Book Two of The Criminogenic Trilogy) Read online

  ***

  The click clack of pristine heels echoed through the silent halls of the Community Facility for the Criminally Insane. The familiar hum of fluorescent lighting provided the only soundtrack to the determined figure making its way toward a forgotten part of the building. With a sharp wave of the hand, the immaculately dressed individual had guards and orderlies on high alert. Asserting their commands with a series of silent gestures, the figure was staring coolly at the huddled mess in the corner of a solitary cell. Long, perfectly manicured fingers curled around the bars separating them from the troublemaker that was Giselle Harmon. Cold, grey eyes glared down at the defeated girl lying in the corner of the dark, damp exile. Lacquered red lips pursed with sadistic satisfaction that they had been able to break this wild spirit. Andrea Clinton motioned for the door to be opened. Taking a step inside the forgotten hole, she knelt down to meet the frightened woman. She slowly extended her hand while a sympathetic smile crossed her face and exhaled calmly.

  “Giselle. My name is Doctor Andrea Clinton. I am here to help you.”

  Chapter Three

  Peter plucked up the courage to invite his new confidant to lunch with him. He and Maggie seemed to be identical in the games that they played. Not once did either of them say anything incriminating or telling, always keeping their cards close at heart. Both understood the game and respected the other for how well they played it. Their forced smiles were plastered on to hide the sadness that consumed them both, the constant pang that there was something missing from their lives. They glided along merrily down the stream of conformity. Everything was as it should be to anyone who would glance into their lives. Their perfect performance kept them out of view from anyone who would be tempted to peek a little bit deeper into the façade.

  Maggie was just about Peter’s height. Her hair was an unruly mass of golden curls that framed her soft features. Peter couldn’t help but be taken by her unconventional beauty. Curiously long lashes fluttered around her almond eyes, while the natural tinge of rose in her cheeks made Peter beam inside. He wasn’t sure how he missed seeing her loveliness before, while she hid herself away behind flowerbeds. Maggie met every condition for a Good Citizen of the State. She donated much of her free time to volunteer work and self-improvement projects, all encouraged by the State. In her willingness to blend in, she’d read that being a dog owner would make her appear more lovable, and she wanted to be a lovable person, so she owned two. She also started to allow Peter to slip a little bit deeper into her true nature, which had taken her by surprise entirely because of how closely she protected herself. Peter too started to open himself a little bit more to Maggie, which caught him off guard as well.

  “How long have we known each other now?” Peter chuckled, amused by their hours of conversation.

  “It feels like ages, doesn’t it?” Maggie replied while she twirled a lock of curls between her chubby fingers. “Isn’t it wonderful though? Being able to speak to someone?” She felt a fresh wave of heat rushing to her cheeks. She didn’t mean to sound needy or lonely, but she was, and it was starting to show.

  Peter smiled a warm genuine smile reserved solely for her, bravely cupping her hand in his. He sighed; “It is wonderful being able to speak to you.”

  That statement alone sent a surge of butterflies throughout Maggie’s body. She could tell that she was going down a dangerous path of being too exposed to emotions again. But she was excited.

  Peter started to open himself up to Maggie as well. Their weekly garden club meetings had become dinners, and their conversations flowed. The spark of companionship had started to flourish under the promise of love, and both Peter and Maggie were desperate for that connection. He eventually started sharing more about his history with Shannon Wright, and Maggie could see the strain on his face when he spoke of her. She didn’t judge him too harshly, in fact a small part of her envied the touch of excitement he had in his past. She longed for more than just being a subservient citizen, but wouldn’t dare tell a soul.

  They shared a common awareness of their surroundings, which put them both at ease. Neither needed to worry about being careless or unmasked, because one would set the other straight. It did seem like the perfect timing for two paranoid fraudsters to find each other. They shared a hatred of the heat, and their need to fit in and be left in peace. There were no feathers to ruffle and no attention sought at all when they were together. They simply enjoyed each other’s company.

  Peter learned that Maggie was a Plumber, and that plumbing was by far more intricate than he initially could have imagined. She enjoyed talking about her work and how she was responsible for ensuring that each sector had working pipes, while Maggie found it fascinating that being a Professor was a lot more demanding than she thought. Peter loved discussing how challenging and rewarding it was being responsible for nurturing the minds of the youth. They were both pleased that they contributed to the State, and they knew that being favored by the State was vital.

  Walking home after another evening of dinner and conversation, Peter revealed to Maggie that he had called the D.A.E Reporting Center just last month. She whistled respectfully. It was the right thing for a citizen to do after all.

  “You take this seriously, don’t you?” she asked,

  “Surviving is serious,” Peter replied.

  “I’ve stood on a couple necks myself,” she admitted. “We need to do what is necessary to maintain our civilization. Can’t let it run rampant with rebels and the like.” Maggie forced conviction into her voice, but Peter still gave her an understanding nod.

  “Why aren’t you teaching this summer, if I may ask?”

  “The University has given the students a break during the summer. Not that I mind at all. This heat is unbearable as it is.”

  “Ah, well that makes sense then. I never did get to go to University. It must be lovely.” Maggie trailed off before snapping back to the present. “Oh gosh! There I go again! This is my door, here. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” Peter hugged Maggie, and they said their goodnights.

  That night when Peter went to bed, he checked the calendar and repeated the days over and over again before he fell asleep. He hoped to remember it, to remember the happiness that he was feeling for the first time in years. It was the first time that he could smile a genuinely happy smile.

  ***

  In the months that followed, Peter moved into Maggie’s home with her and sold his apartment. The summer had passed, and the cooler weather was a welcome change from the unforgiving summer. It also heralded a new semester for Peter at the University, and he was rather excited about teaching again. While preparing for the new semester, Peter noticed a name that was no longer listed on his class roster. Giselle Harmon’s name was nowhere to be seen, and quite frankly he was pleased to be rid of her. Whether she had dropped out of University, or been picked up by the Bulldogs, Peter knew that he wouldn’t miss her in his classes. All that he was certain of was that for the first time in the longest time, Peter was finally happy with Maggie. His restless heart finally felt safe in the hands of the woman who he now knew he loved. It had been a mere six months since that fateful pairing at the Gardening Club, and he couldn’t imagine a more perfect person to share his life with. He knew what he needed to do, and with a decision in mind and some money from the sale of his apartment, he decided to make his love for Maggie official.

  It was a cool, autumn day that couldn’t have been more perfect for what Peter had in mind. He walked with a skip in his step and a nervous smile on his face toward a local jewelry store called Sabar and Son’s. He knew the owner well. Mr. Sabar’s family owned a few of the local stores in his Region. Sabar and Son’s was nestled between large retail corporations that towered the long-standing family business. The quaint store still had the original signage painted onto the large windows, luring lovers in with exquisite jewelry at family prices. When Peter walked into the store, he was announced by a doorbell that alerted Mr. Sabar of his new customer
.

  “My word! Peter Ronin!” Mr. Sabar exclaimed merrily. “How can I help you today, young man?” Mr. Sabar was a small man, his thinning, grey hair slicked back into the styles from yesteryear. Oversized glasses covered his peach fuzz skin, all the while his beaming smile showed off an array of gold fillings.

  “Mr. Sabar, how are you?” Peter was nervous, he extended his hand to greet the old man properly, but his nerves were getting the better of him. Mr. Sabar recognized this jitter, he saw it in many men who walk into his store.

  “I have a feeling that I know what you are looking for,” he said, while taking a tray of delicate rings out of the display case. “Is it the pretty young lady that we’ve seen you with all summer?” Mr. Sabar mused while tapping his nose with his index finger. The flush of red on Peter’s face was answer enough.

  “I have a special discount for you,” Mr. Sabar assured Peter. The ring that Peter picked out was an exquisite, antique diamond ring with an array of gem embellishments. Naturally, the price of the ring made Mr. Sabar glow, finding willing customers these days was proving tricky. Mr. Sabar promised Peter that his next purchase, the wedding bands, would be discounted if he bought them now. Peter didn’t need to think about it for long before agreeing; he was so sure that Maggie would agree to marry him. He’d lay awake at night imagining how they would buy a little house in the suburbs and have a couple of kids. They would keep her dogs to finish off the white-picket-fence look. They would be perfectly normal and live in quiet contentment.

  Mr. Sabar packaged the glittering ring into a tiny, velvety box and readied it to be presented to Maggie on Peter’s behalf. It was apparent that Peter was too preoccupied with his daydreaming to notice the finer details anyway. With a knowing smile, Mr. Sabar handed Peter the package and asked; “Do you know how you’ll ask her yet?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Peter laughed, “All I know is that I have to ask her, Mr. Saber.” He smiled. Mr. Sabar wished him luck and congratulated him on his magnificent taste in jewelry and in women before ushering Peter out of his store. He couldn’t procrastinate any longer and needed to get to Maggie before he lost his nerve!

  ***

  Jonathan Phelps sat propped up against a pile of starched pillows. It had been months since the attack on him, but the State spared nothing to have him recover. The best doctors and surgeons were shipped into treat him from all over the State. Security had been increased across all of the Zones within the Region, and surveillance was at an all time high. Citizens were not aware why they were being watched so much more closely than usual, and the State preferred that it stay that way. The D.A.E had authorized sporadic raids on the homes of Zone 3 and Zone 4 residents, allowing Bulldogs and officers to confiscate anything that could be considered a deadly weapon. The detainment rate among the inhabitants of the lower Zones had increased dramatically, and without warning. The sudden clamp down on society had the citizens restless. Something was brewing, and no one knew what it was.

  He was working on his tablet when Maggie silently walked into the hospital ward. She hated hospitals. They reminded her of death and despair, and seeing her lover on the edge of death was too much for her to bear. Still, she was professional, and made every effort to hide her discomfort when she was called to see him. The case that she had been working on was coming to a head, and she needed to report back to him. She had the evidence needed to close the case, and she couldn’t wait to be done with it either. Being intertwined in the lives of criminals made her feel filthy. She felt ill having to go home to a criminal in the evening, knowing that she had to maintain her charade until the end. It was becoming too much for her to handle. But she remained strong and determined to make Jonathan proud. It was the least that she could do for him.

  His smile could light up the world, Maggie thought as he welcomed her with genuine happiness. “How could any one person be this beautiful?” Jonathan said to her with astonishment, “You cannot believe how glad I am to see you, Maggie.”

  He hardly ever called her by her first name, but his brush with death had made him more aware of the life around him. He was also more appreciative of the lives weaved into his. His flattery had brought a fresh flush of red to Maggie’s cheeks; she wasn’t supposed to be so weak around him. She had spent the entire drive over to the hospital building up her resistance to him. It was pointless; she was helpless to his charms, even when he was on the edge of death.

  “Director Phelps,” she spoke, maintaining the little composure that she had left. Her forced seriousness brought a hearty chuckle out from Jonathan, which infuriated the hot-headed Maggie.

  “No! Now what is so funny?” she demanded.

  “Oh! My sweet love, beautiful and soft Maggie – can you come over here and say hello properly please?” His eyes danced around her body, admiring every inch of her irritation toward him. He was thoroughly amused by her attempt at restraint.

  Maggie cleared her throat uncomfortably and motioned toward the door, “You have more eyes on you than Zone 4 at the moment. Could you at least pretend to have some decorum?” Maggie forced as much seriousness into her voice as she could manage; it was impossible to be upset with Jonathan Phelps. He nodded, patronizing her earnest attempt at being professional.

  “All right,” he sighed “let’s get to work then, Kingsley.”

  Maggie moved toward him once again. She had sent him the notes on the case progress. All she needed was his approval to close the case. She remained clinical as she explained the evidence to him, leaving nothing to chance as she was presenting Jonathan with the information. She was certain of Peter’s involvement in the coup, but he wasn’t a ringleader at all. Maggie couldn’t get to the bottom of who was in charge, but she was certain that Peter didn’t know either.

  “I’m tired of this life now, Jonathan.” Maggie said suddenly, the misery washing over her face, “I feel like I’m the D.A.E’s hired whore. You don’t know what I’ve had to do for this case, for that criminal.” Sadness turned to rage. Her professionalism long forgotten, Maggie slumped over and sobbed. Red eyes looked at Jonathan, begging for mercy; “Why did you tell me you loved me, only to send me to the bed of a criminal? Why do you hate me so much?”

  Jonathan lowered his gaze, ashamed of his involvement with this project. He couldn’t tell her why she was assigned to this case, not yet. He couldn’t tell her that she was just a pawn in something much greater than she was. That there was something on the horizon that would destroy the kind of person that she was. He wanted to protect her from the truth, from the stark reality that their world was slowly being demolished right before their eyes, and they were all powerless to stop it. He couldn’t tell her that his loyalties were wavering. He watched her for a moment, her fury forcing her peaches and cream skin to glow. Her anger visible in the creases between her eyes, and her familiar fidgeting fingers. He had to tell her something, he thought, he had to give her the blow that she needed to cut ties. He’d strung too many people along with his plans and schemes and it was time that he sever some of those strings. Beatrice had been taken care of, his trophy ball and chain no longer sniffing around. No one questioned that Beatrice had gone to another Region for a few procedures; she was known to do that often. It could never be revealed that Jonathan had had her detained as a Would. That could never be common knowledge, and nor would it. He couldn’t hold on to his infatuation with Maggie any longer either. He had to remember that his sacrifice had to have been for something. That the life he longed for was still within his grasp. He needed to let go of past pleasures and start thinking like the Director of the D.A.E again.

  “I’m so sorry Kingsley, but you were never meant to make it out of this assignment alive.”

  Chapter Four

  She was wrapped into a tight ball of nerves on the edge of the bed. Giselle had been moved to a comfortable suite, surrounded by sterile white walls and State regulated posters promoting obedience. Dr, Andrea Clinton was insistent that she be in a comfortable room, where sh
e could recover, but Giselle was still suspicious of the sudden kindness. Her food was no long an unidentifiable pile of gruel, aimlessly tossed through a slat in the door. She had now been presented with piping hot food that smelled as good as it looked. If only she could bring herself to eat any of it. They had to operate on her arm. The break was bad, and it had started to set itself against the joint – the pain was unbearable, but Giselle relished in it. Now that it was reset and safely tucked away under a cast, she had no way to keep her mind occupied. No way to visually remind her of the pain that they had inflicted on her. She needed a reminder to keep her fire fueled.

  She feared that the medication that they gave her for pain was another anti-psychotic drug. But they weren’t forcing her to take them either, which further propelled Giselle’s suspicion. She couldn’t understand why the Facility had suddenly taken pity on her. Usually, they would hope to drive patients and inmates to take their own lives. That was the preferred way to deal with unruly individuals who were untreatable. Dr. Clinton was the exception. She took great care to clean Giselle up after being left in a pit of her own waste for weeks. Carefully washing away the pain and suffering inflicted by the guards and orderlies charged with caring for the girl. Giselle feared that her resistance was diminishing entirely under the lure of a little bit of kindness.

  Rocking back and forth on the edge of the bed, she played the memories over and over in her mind. Trying to keep track of her life before this nightmare began. Trying to keep herself in the moment. Holding on to memories that had long since been forgotten by anyone near to her, memories that kept being brought up by the presence of Dr. Clinton. Dr. Clinton who somehow reminded Giselle of her mother, kind and nurturing – unlike anyone she had met in the Facility.