Page 67 of Challenged

She does, sitting up like a scolded school child. I’d feel bad about it, but at least she’s stopped sobbing.

“What’s your name?” I say, keeping my voice firm, not letting any softness into it, afraid a kind word will just set her off again.

“Bree,” she says with a hiccup. “Bree Colton.”

She’s a pretty thing, even with the blotchiness. Strawberry blonde hair cut to stylishly frame her face. I would be surprised if she was a day over twenty.

“Now Bree, I’m going to tell you a few things,” I say. “And I need you to listen without crying, okay? You think you can do that?”

She nods, blinking the last few tears out of her eyes. Her arms cross in front of her, looking for all the world like a teddy bear or some other comforter is supposed to be clutched inside them.

“Good. That’s good. But just to warn you, some of this isn’t going to be easy to hear.”

Her lip wobbles. “Daddy’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”

And oh, I recognise that look. Saw it in enough of my peers at school. Might have seen it in my own reflection if I hadn’t inherited so much of my mother’s spite.

The father who ruled with an iron fist. My heart breaks for her.

“No,” I say. “That’s one thing I can promise you. Your father is never going to lay a finger on you again.”

It’s an emotional drain, going through everything, especially as I’ve barely come to terms with it myself. Trying to guide a fragile woman to a place of acceptance is fraught and difficult. With Bree, we don’t get anywhere close. I have to just leave her crying with some of the other girls so we can wake the next one.

Summer. A quiet brunette who stares at me and Brooks with distrusting eyes but takes everything we tell her a little too in her stride. I wonder if, like me, she harbours a belief that this must all be a trick, but is smart enough to keep quiet about it.

We’re already deep into the afternoon as we prepare to open the last set of pods. I’m exhausted, and Brooks must be too, because she looks at the next pod in the line and just freezes.

“You okay?” I ask.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, but then shakes herself, shooting me an apologetic look. She tries to follow it with a smile, but she’s gone so pale, it looks creepy rather than reassuring.

“I’m fine, it’s just… It’s Dawes.”

I feel like I’ve heard this name before, but before I can figure out where, Rachel steps up, her expression full of kindness and empathy.

“Don’t worry, Brooks, we’ve got this. Liv only wants eight, right? Why don’t you sit this one out? We’ll wake Dawes, and tomorrow, you can help us with the rest.”

“I can’t, I…”

“Yeah, you can,” I say, taking her by the arm and tugging her towards the exit. “We’ll just be in the office next door, alright? Come fetch us if you need any help.”

I lead Brooks right through into Farrow’s office. When the glass door clicks shut behind us, it dulls most of the noise of the pod room.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Brooks says.

“The very grey colour your face went says otherwise. What’s the story with this Dawes?”

“She was head of one of the science tier teams here.”

My mind spins for a moment, pulling a personnel list out of my memory - one of the many things I found on Farrow’s computer.

“Katherine Dawes? They froze her? Why?”

Brooks shrugs. “Outlived her usefulness, I guess. Just like I did. We were all eager to wake her up at first - demand answers from her. Me included. But we didn’t want her to be the first, in case we messed up the waking process.” She grimaces. “Sorry.”

“What, you think I didn’t figure out that I was your guinea pig?” I say with a snort. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

She manages a sheepish smile. “Anyway, we didn’t wake her up first, and then Liv didn’t want Rachel and Grace learning to wake people up on Dawes, either. Then you said you could probably figure out why Mercenia left.”

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