Chapter Forty Noah

He stood in the narrow hallway, glancing left and right. After two days in the Bellator Hospital, he still found it difficult to get his bearings. The building was enormous, and the one night he'd had to go over things with Rowan had not been enough.

Right now, he was transporting a huge bundle of soiled blankets to the laundry. If he could remember where the laundry was. Without raising his head to study the signs, he had to go by memory.

Stay under the radar. Rowan's warning echoed in his ears. Make sure the women don't notice you.

It was easier said than done, when you didn't know where you were going.

The first of his two shifts at the hospital had taken place at night. The hallways had been quiet, and there were far fewer people. Today, he was working in broad daylight. There were medics and patients everywhere, and the constant flow of traffic through the building was adding to his confusion.

The drudge tasks weren't difficult. And the women he had come across usually bypassed him without a word. The other drudges, however, were less accepting. None of them had spoken to him yet, but he'd felt them studying him as he moved around the hospital. They knew he was not Rowan.

But they also knew he was not an ordinary drudge.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Noah made a decision. Turning left, he headed up the hallway, hoping he had chosen the correct route.

When he heard a babble of sound up ahead, he knew he had not. Phones ringing. The noisy bing-bong of the hospital intercom. The whirr of an air-conditioning unit. Numerous voices demanding attention.

He was headed for the hospital's main reception area.

But he couldn't alter his route now. The footsteps echoed down the hallway behind him, coming closer every second. An abrupt about-turn would raise suspicion. He had to keep going.

Drudges use the lesser travelled routes in the building. Rowan's voice came back to him. They complete their jobs with the minimum of fuss.

A trickle of sweat began to make its way down his spine. Keep walking, he admonished himself. Keep your head down. Act as though you're supposed to be here.

But he knew he wasn't.

"What on earth…" He felt the angry glare of the receptionist even though he wasn't looking at her. "What is he doing here?"

Resisting the urge to glance upwards and get his bearings, Noah ploughed on. The faster he was out of sight, the better chance he had of melting into the background again. Circumnavigating several pairs of feet, he ignored their owners, who tutted at him. With a sudden rush of relief, the laundry's location came back to him. Angling himself towards the correct exit, he picked up the pace.

Drudges never hurry. For a moment, he hated the sensible voice in his head.

If he'd already been spotted, surely it didn't matter?

"Good morning." Behind him, he heard the receptionist speak again. This time, she was addressing an incoming patient. "Yes, I know. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what he's doing. Rest assured, I'll be reporting him to–"

Reaching the exit, Noah left the reception, blood pounding in his ears. He braced himself for footsteps behind him. The hospital had guards. If the receptionist was as good as her word, they would be after him within minutes.

But the bustling sounds died away. Three hallways later, he found himself in the quiet thoroughfare the drudges used to access the main equipment and storage rooms. The laundry was right behind it.

If he could make it there and deliver the sheets as expected, he might be okay. The drudges were all the same to the women. If the receptionist had no way of identifying him, perhaps he could lose himself in the next task, and get away with it.

He pushed open the door of the laundry, heading for the baskets which held the incoming sheets. Finding an empty one, he unburdened himself. As he hurried to the exit, he wiped his sweaty palms on his uniform. It had been a close call. But he was fairly confident he'd escaped identification.

He moved into the storage room, hoping to collect a mop and bucket. Perhaps he could head towards the Fertility Ward. He had to be certain of the layout of that part of the hospital before tomorrow. One false step on Liberation Day could blow the whole mission. He would not let Faith or Sophia down.

As he approached the cleaning supplies, he felt a hand on his shoulder. His body went rigid. Since entering the hospital, no one had touched him. The women didn't go near the drudges, and he had yet to see one drudge make physical contact with another.

He drew in a slow breath, trying not to panic as fingers dug into his skin. Before he could react, he found himself being pushed behind a section of shelving.

Fighting every instinct he had, he remained silent. There was no point giving himself away until he had assessed the situation. He allowed his assailant to spin him round, maintaining the drudge posture as he was thrust back against the shelving.

Noah found himself staring at a pair of regulation drudge shoes. He found himself noticing a dark stain on the toe of the left foot. It was shaped like a teardrop. Hearing the sound of ragged breathing, he jerked back into the moment and noted the tension in the uniformed body of the drudge.

"Not speaking, huh?" The voice was low and hoarse. "Still trying to convince people that you're a drudge?" Noah swallowed hard, but kept his eyes on the ground. "You ready to start talking?"

Noah's mind was racing. He'd expected trouble from the Bellator women, if they discovered his lie. But an attack from a drudge was something he hadn't anticipated. He waited for the man to go on.

"What did you think you were doing, charging through reception with a ton of dirty laundry just now?" The hold on Noah's shoulder tightened. "Way to attract the wrong kind of attention."

Drudges appeared powerless. Their slim frames and the way they carried themselves gave the impression of weakness. But the work they did was arduous. They were wiry, more powerful than they looked. Noah found he didn't want to test the strength of the grip on his shoulder.

Even if he could break free, where would he go? If the drudges themselves suspected him, didn't trust him, he had no chance of staying undercover. And if he left the hospital, his mission was a failure. His only chance was to try and talk the drudge down.

"Who are you?" His attacker was becoming impatient. "I know you're not a drudge." Hot breath assaulted his face as the drudge leaned closer. "The women might not be wise yet, but I knew it from the moment you walked in. We all did."

Sighing, Noah raised his gaze. The eyes staring at him seethed, reflecting first anger, then curiosity, then a primal fear.

"There are no cameras here." The drudge jerked his gaze upwards. "Do you think I'd risk this if there were? Now talk."

Noah breathed in slowly. "I'm not a drudge. You're right." Ignoring the sharp intake of breath, he ploughed on. "But I'm not here to hurt you."

"You hurt us all when you make mistakes like the one you just made. I was behind you when you strolled into the reception area." Noah remembered the footsteps he'd heard behind him. "I would've stopped you, if I'd been able to." The man dropped his gaze, seeming uncertain for the first time. "Don't you know the kind of trouble you could cause for the drudges here?"

Suddenly, Noah understood. Drudges didn't matter. The city's women bypassed them without a thought for their well-being. As long as they did their jobs, they were ghosts. But if they stepped out of line, a world of pain awaited them. The group of men was invisible, totally dispensable to the women of Bellator. It was criminal.

"I'm sorry about just now." Noah wriggled his shoulder. The drudge released his hold, but didn't step away. "I just… got lost."

"It's not the first mistake you've made though, is it?" The drudge's eyes bored into Noah's. "It didn't make too much of a difference when you were working at night. But in the daytime…" His face creased with worry. "We'll all be punished if it keeps happening."

Noah stared at the man in front of him. He seemed more worried than angry now. He was frightened that Noah's presence was a threat to the drudges' safety. And after a couple of days in the role, Noah knew he was right.

"As I said, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause a problem for you all."

The drudge narrowed his eyes. "Who are you? I mean… you're not a drudge. But you're male. So… what are you doing here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I was part of a group who wants to fight against Danforth's rule?" Noah held the man's gaze. "A kind of Resistance?"

The drudge frowned. "We hear whispers about a Resistance. You're saying it exists?"

"I am." Noah leaned forward. "We want to fight against the injustice of the Bellator system. Fight for people who can't fight for themselves."

"I'll bet you don't want to fight for the drudges."

"Why would you say that?

"Because," the drudge's eyes flashed with anger, "the Bellator women don't care about us. We can disappear," his voice cracked, and he dropped his gaze, "and no one even notices."

"Disappear?"

"Yes." Suddenly the drudge's hands were on Noah's arms, shaking him. "Only a few days ago, I woke up to find a friend of mine was gone. Literally vanished, overnight. I mean…" the man faltered. "He didn't do anything wrong, not as far as I could tell. But he was here one day, gone the next."

Something clicked inside Noah's head. "You mean Rowan?"

The drudge frowned. "Who?"

Realising that the name would mean nothing, Noah searched for a way to describe the missing drudge. "Your friend… does he look a lot like me? Did he go missing on Tuesday night? After he'd finished his shift?"

"You know something about it?" The drudge pushed Noah into the shelving again. "Did you do something to him?"

"No!" Noah hurried to explain. "The Resistance took him so that I could replace him. They needed someone undercover in the hospital. But they had to get me in without raising suspicion. So I had to replace an existing hospital worker."

"You're saying he was kidnapped by the Resistance?"

"Yes." Spotting the fury in the drudge's eyes, Noah hurried on. "But he's safe. They're looking after him."

Noah couldn't decide which was worse. The terror he had felt all his life as a member of the hidden community or the sense of total anonymity that went along with being a drudge. In Eremus, he'd always known that he could be discovered and executed at any given moment. Here, a single drudge mattered so little that they could disappear without anyone saying a word.

Relief flooded the drudge's eyes. "So he's not dead? They won't hurt him?"

Noah shook his head. "He's fine. When this is over, they'll make the switch back. He'll be just–"

The drudge's expression changed again. "Why should I trust you? I'm assuming you'd say anything to get me off your back right now."

"I can see that you'd think that." Noah shrugged. "But I assure you, it's true. Can you trust me? Believe that I'm telling the truth?"

"Believe that there are women who care enough to protect a lowly drudge? I doubt it." The drudge released Noah abruptly. "Unless you can prove it."

Noah's heart clenched at the challenge. "I don't think I can–"

"I. Don't. Care." The drudge leaned close to Noah's face one last time. "I'll leave you alone, for now. But come up with proof that my friend is alive and well soon, or I'll make your life a living hell."

"Alright! Alright." Noah's mind was racing. "Meet me outside the drudge quarters at the end of shift today."

"You have proof?" The drudge sounded suspicious.

"I do." Noah held his breath, hoping that the drudge would agree to his terms. "But I can't provide it right now.

The drudge gave him an appraising look. "I'll be there. But this had better not be a trick of some kind."

"It's not. I promise you–"

But the drudge was already stalking away, leaving Noah alone.