course.”
“And?”
“And nothing. It’s not a high priority. The Committee thinks once the extra levels are completed and the scrubs get more space, everyone will be happy to return to work.” His sarcastic tone implied otherwise.
“Is it the same for all the systems?”
“Except for maintenance and security, they’re busy and productive. Why? Do you care now?”
I laced my hands together to keep from punching Jacy. “Okay, tell me. What should I be doing?”
He jerked as if I surprised him. “Truthfully?”
“Always.”
“Disband the Committee. Appoint a few people to be in charge.”
I laughed. “Is that it? And here I was ready for something that would be hard to do.”
“You asked.” He kept his expression neutral.
“I don’t have the power to appoint people. I’m just a—”
“A scrub?”
“No. A citizen of Inside. I’ve done my part. It’s time for other people to step in and set up a better system. I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a society.”
“Uh-huh.” Jacy leaned against a bunk. “And you’re here because …”
“I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
I glanced around. There were too many people nearby who seemed interested in our conversation. “Some place private.”
He frowned with annoyance then snapped his fingers at his men. They cleared a wider space around us. Impressive.
“Better?”
“Yes.” But I hesitated. His hostility worried me. Plus he acted like he had before the rebellion—as if we were enemies. Yet he had been a key member, rising to the occasion and being invaluable. I suppressed my doubts and asked him if he knew or heard of an expert in explosions.
He whistled. “You think someone damaged the power plant on purpose?”
Trust Jacy to put the pieces together so quickly. “Let’s just say I’d like another opinion.”
“Uh-huh. And what if this expert is the one you’re searching for?”
“There is always that possibility.”
He tapped his fingers on the bunk’s metal support beam as he considered my request. “I do know one scrub that would be regarded as an expert, but you need to do something for me in return.”
No surprise. “And that would be …”
“Remember those microphones you planted for me in air duct seventy-two?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to plant more in another air duct.”
“Why?” I asked. “The Pop Cops are gone and you should know everything that’s being decided from the Committee meetings.”
“Let’s just say I like another opinion. Deal?”
“Yes, I’ll plant the mics for you.” But I didn’t say where I would.
“Good. I’ll get them to you soon.”
“And that expert?”
Jacy grinned. “His name is Bubba Boom and he works for maintenance.”
“You got to be kidding me.”
“Nope. He probably had a real name when he was born, but his care mates gave him that nickname at a young age. Bubba Boom can set fire to anything, and he loved setting off little explosions. Drove his Care Mother crazy, burning up various things in the care facility. He was the youngest scrub to be a member of the fire response team since he’s equally adept at extinguishing fires.”
He sounded familiar. “Is he the guy who rigged that container of casserole to explode?”
“Yep. He had to help the kitchen scrubs clean green goo from the walls and ceiling for a week.”
I remembered hearing about his pranks. My care mates used to delight in telling the stories, but I had never learned his name. By the time I graduated from the care facility, he had stopped his mischief. “Did working for the fire response team settle him down?”
“Nope. The Pop Cops took care of that.”
Understandable. Vinco could convert anyone after a couple sessions with his knife.
Hank worked on repairs to the pipes below the blasted section of the power plant between levels three and four. He shouted orders and the others rushed to follow them. A few faces weren’t familiar and I hoped that meant more of the lower level citizens had volunteered. My optimistic assumptions burst when I spotted a number of armed ISF officers nearby.
Anne-Jade didn’t waste time. She had mentioned using Travas for the repairs a mere twelve hours ago and here they were.
When Hank took a break, I asked him about Bubba Boom.
He chuckled. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. We just call him Bubba and he’s up on level four welding the ruptured water tank.”
I thanked him and headed for the water storage tanks located in Sector B4. When I entered, the humid air reminded me of hydroponics except there was nothing living growing here—only rust. The spilled water had been cleaned, but not before some of it had dripped down to the infirmary.
The crackle and hiss of a torch sounded in the corner closest to the explosion. Sparks flew, pointing out Bubba even though he wore a metal shield over his face. He worked on a long crack along the seam of the metal tank. Wearing gray maintenance coveralls streaked with dirt and peppered with holes, his large frame reminded me of Cog.
Looking at the damage to the tanks, I wondered how Cogon would have reacted to the explosion. He would’ve been angry and upset and I would have had to force him to take breaks. He’d have every single person of Inside helping until the damage was repaired, and they would have been happy to do it for him.
Not for the first time, nor for the last, I thought it should have been me, not him that floated away into Outer Space.
I waited until Bubba finished before I cleared my throat, letting him know I was there. He pulled off the shield, revealing messy light brown hair that seemed to stand on end. Sweat trailed down the sides of his face and freckles sprinkled his cheeks and nose. Close to my age, I figured he couldn’t be more than a hundred weeks older than me.
“Need something?” Bubba Boom asked.
Going with the second opinion ruse, I asked him if he had a chance to see the point of the blast.
The
