As her brother – a Greyman, of all things – rolled away in his pod toward the Boundary, all Kayda wanted to do was race after him and tear that piece of metal garbage the held him to pieces, and pull his body free. She’d learned from her research, though, that if she did that, she would indeed kill him. He wasn’t dependant on it when he was put into it. But she could see that in less than nine months, he had become completely dependant on that thing to keep him alive. Physically, and mentally.

  But then her eyes drifted sharply away from him, and she couldn’t bring them back to where she’d last seen him or even turn her head that way. When at last she could, he was gone. Just like every other skibbing time she'd tried.

  Her whole life, she’d wanted rid of him. But not like this. No, not like this. Skibs! No one deserved this.

  What does it do to a brain when that gas is going into it for twenty-four hours a day? Well, twenty-one, if you take away the time he was fed, and the time Chimma had taken the mask off him every night.

  That girl had messed so much up. But it was probably only because of her that the real Denzin was alive in there.

  All her life, Kayda had dreamed of passing her Zam, achieving honours, and moving first herself, and then her parents, Over the Hill. Help them escape the poverty and toil they’d endured for so long. She hadn’t seen them in far too long, now. Had she forgotten? She’d been so tangled up with learning how to be an Over – or as near to an Over as she could be at the moment – and then trying to find out about the Greymen and the gas, that she hadn’t been there in far too long.

  She was weary. And she needed her mam and dad. Even if for just one night. So after forcing herself to keep it together that day, she told Chimma that she’d be back the next night. She was going home.

  As she passed through the Checkpoint, she smelled the gas that would wash away all the things she didn’t want to face. She could leave them until morning. Surely, she deserved just one night at home. Just one night.

  She made it before Curfew. Mam hadn’t made enough food for her, not expecting her, and Kayda tried to assure her that she’d already eaten. Dad asked all about her life now, and Kayda told them what little she could. She was learning a lot. Things were so different. She’d gotten her star tattooed. That had been six months ago already. It was a shock to realise she hadn’t seen them in that long!

  Yes, she’d made a few friends. One in particular, another girl from the Under who’d passed her Zam last year as well.

  And then the conversation went quiet. And they all looked at the fourth chair around the table. The one her noisy, annoying, brother used to sit at.

  Would he sit in that chair again? Or any chair? Kayda had her doubts.

  He was a Greyman. And anything she knew about Greymen refused to find its way from her brain to her lips no matter how hard she tried. So she couldn’t tell them she’d seen him, or anything about him. Nor could she tell them that he loved them. He was just lost.

  Her own bed was so much more comfortable than the one in the dormitory she slept in now. It was broken in to the shape of her body, and she nestled into it as if it had always belonged there. Just the right place. Somehow, she felt whole.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Just like Denzin did in that pod, with that mask, wearing those skibbing braces on his hands.

  Curfew had locked the door. Kayda was trapped in her past, unable to go out and change anything. Not one skibbing thing.

  All the other Greymen had families, too, just like Denzin did. What were their families thinking? Did they still look at the empty chair, and wonder?

  At first light, apologising to her parents, she waited by the door. She had to hurry to get back in time, she told them, but she'd be back soon. At least, she hoped she would.

  The moment the snick sounded, releasing both the lock and her, she ran through it, down the stairs, and back up the Hill. She forced herself through the Checkpoint, trying to breathe in as little of the gas as possible despite her panting, then raced through the streets to the Bio Lab.

  Her tiny office and her little desk was waiting for her.

  Kayda stared at her desk in dismay. It was filled with paperwork. If it wasn’t done, she might lose access to all the information she needed. So for the sake of her brother, holding the image of him she’d seen the night before last, she ploughed through that paperwork, processing forms, filing reports, and sending out notifications and equipment according to the order sheets she was given. It was all useless, senseless, now. She had everything she’d ever wanted – except the birthmark being removed – and now, not one tiny bit of it held the slightest interest to her.

  Freeing her brother was all that mattered now. And because he loved her, she had to keep Chimma safe, too. Kayda saw the way he looked at her. Heard the idiotic things they’d impressed into each other’s brains. As surely as tearing his body free from that skibbing pod would kill him, losing Chimma would accomplish exactly the same thing.

  Chimma was in the Checkpoint Caff when Kayda arrived for an early dinner. She just nodded to her. Best not make it a big deal that they were now friends. Opposite ends of the spectrum – people would notice. But she did murmur to Chimma when she brought her tray to the table.

  Sure enough, at just the right time, Chimma woke her. They climbed through that little window, taking care to keep it wedged open, and kept their appointment.

  The gravity of the situation hit her between the eyes as she watched him at work, rapture on his face, cleaning the streets of the Over. She remembered joking that that was the only job he’d ever be able to do. Threatening to glue a gag to his mouth. If only she could take those words back – every skibbing one of them – and shred them to pieces.

  “Denzin,” Chimma said as she walked along beside him. She leaned over and laid a hand – her left hand – on his pod, and called his name again. But Denzin kept on going, his face in a state of joy like she’d never seen it before.

  Chimma reached back with a practiced move, and the mask flew from his mouth. Hardly a second later, she had flipped it out of sight behind him. His lips kept that wide O shape for a moment, and then began to quiver as he he wept.

  “Denzin, it’s me, Chimma. And Kayda’s here, too.”

  His mouth groped for the “rest of his face”, as he’d called, it like a baby for its mother’s teat. As he cried, he took a deep breath, and then he stopped his pod.

  Chimma’s questions began. “What is your name?” “Do you recognise us?” “What are our names?” “How are you?” “Are you enjoying your work?” “What have you been doing tonight?”

  His replies began to come quicker. And longer. He looked straight ahead. Then he shook himself, as if shaking off the effects of the gas, and said, “Oh, just the usual. You know, driving around the City serving my wonderful Pendraken who I love and am so incredibly grateful to for my wonderful body. I would do anything for him, you know. I owe him so much. Even my life. I am so grateful to my Pendraken. I … where’s the rest of my face? I need the rest of my face!”

  It had taken fifteen minutes to get his gob working freely that night. And another ten to find her brother hiding in that Greyman.

  Then they walked with him while he finished his work – he had one more street to sweep the salt and grit from – while trying to get him to talk about anything at all that didn’t involve his pod or his mask or his Pandraken. It was hard. It was so hard not to slap him to try to bring him to his senses. So hard. That Chimma – how did she do it? She was so patient with him.

  Kayda held back her grief, locking it away. That was for another time. Allowing herself the luxury of being upset wasn’t going to solve the problem before them. Problems, actually. But it was best to find one answer at a time. And that meant she needed her brain.

  She'd find something to hit – hard – later.