At the end of the alley, they separated and I tagged a couple of steps behind the woman. Sure enough, she led me to a brick building spread out adjacent to one of the parking lots by the gate. The path leading to the front door was signposted in blue with white writing:Eastern Coalition Processing Center.
My gaze followed her all the way through the door, but I didn’t dare walk up that path. I felt invisible in The Smoke, but that didn’t mean I was. It would only take one official to notice something was off about me. Besides, I doubted I could just walk up to a desk and demand information on Jenna’s whereabouts.
I looked around, and saw the start of rows of identical buildings a little farther down the road. They were brick, as seemed to be a popular choice in The Smoke, and… I counted ten stories high as I ambled in that direction.
I’d once imagined Jenna’s life here and all I’d come up with was boarding houses with nauseating colored passages and claustrophobic rooms. Cubicle prisons for Capra’s discarded miscreants.
I reserved my judgement for now, but these buildings weren’t exactly charming. And this was definitely Hostel City. A signpost staked in the pavement pointed toward the depressing apartment blocks with their endless rows of windows squashed together and sooty around the framework. As I got closer, I saw the brick frontage was blackened with grime. A couple of park benches were bolted down to a dismal concrete plaza at the head of hostel city, as if that were the best view in the area.
I chose a bench and hunkered down against the bitter morning chill, pulling my collar up and tucking my hands into my pockets. It was exceptionally optimistic to expect Jenna would just come strolling out of one of those buildings, to hope she even still boarded here. She’d been removed from society months ago.
Then again, I had no idea what ‘processing’ entailed or how long it could potentially last.
Roman seemed to think it was a possibility, that Jenna might still be here, and he rarely lied about such things. Scrap that. He never lied about anything. He just stonewalled, or redirected, or simply evaded.
He hadn’t lied about the life here in The Smoke. And by that I meant the actuallifebeing created here just like in Capra—babies, children—but he hadn’t told me. He hadn’t kept me locked up in the apartment, either. He must have known I’d see it all with my own eyes the moment I stepped out onto the street.
The man was more of a mystery to me now than the day I married him.
His views and motivations were an enigma.
His actions contradicted who he was and what he said.
His past was a closed book. Rose had alluded to a tainted history. When I’d gone looking, all I’d found was an artist he’d once loved and potential blackmail material to buy his way to an ambitious future.
While I sat there, people came and went from the hostels. All women, mostly around my age, although there were a handful that looked to be in their twenties or maybe even older.
I approached each and every one of them as they passed. “Hello, excuse me, do you know anyone called Jenna? Jenna Simmons?” and sometimes I changed it up for, “Hi, sorry, I’m looking for Jenna Simmons?”
I got curious stares, shaking heads and blatant ignores, and some apologetic grimaces.
I’d been on the bench about two hours, worried I was calling too much attention to myself, when a spark of recognition finally lit a woman’s eyes.
“Yes, I know Jenna.” She studied me, chewing on her bottom lip. “What do you want with her?”
She sounded defensive, as if she wasn’t about to hand Jenna over to just anyone. I kind of appreciated her surly attitude.
“She’s an…” I almost said ‘old friend’ but caught myself. Jenna was new to The Smoke. “I haven’t seen her in a while, but we occasionally hung out at the market. I swear she said she was staying here.”
The vague explanation appeased the woman. “She was, but she was assigned to The Break last month. I haven’t heard from her since.”
My expression fell. “Oh, well, thanks.”
She started to walk away, then paused to turn a thoughtful look on me. “You know where Jenna’s from?”
Was this a test? And which answer was the right one?
I went with my gut, stepping closer to the woman so I could lower my voice. “Yes, she told me a little about Capra.”
That turned the woman on like a faucet. “I never believed they actually removed any of their princesses from town. I mean, they’re all so sparkly and precious, right?” She laughed, indicating the opposite. “Jenna was actually quite nice, though, very down to earth.”
She’d lost me with the precious princesses, but I went along with her anyway, nodding vigorously. “Jenna is certainly different.”
I was pretty sure that was as true here as it had been in Capra.
The woman snorted. “There’s different, and then there’s Jenna. You know what? She was quite friendly with Lydia. Their stay here overlapped in the first few weeks. They might still be in contact.”
I glanced over to the endless rows of hostels. No wonder they called this a city. “Do you have Lydia’s address?”