The Betrayed

by Joanie Raisovich

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

Allen laughed outright. “You’ve got to be kidding. They’re not transferring that. The paper you have in your pocket is it, and it’s all you’re going to get.” His smile faded. “You’ve got to stop thinking like that. The rules are different; you have to learn to live by the new ones or you’re not going to make it.”

Sam reeled as she tried to take in the information. She had almost twenty thousand saved, and she’d comforted herself by counting on using it to make a down payment on a place, provide herself with a little comfort. She could feel Mary’s hand shaking. She turned and whispered again, “We don’t know if any of this is true.” She smiled as Mary gazed up at her and nodded, glad that she could sound more confident than she felt.

“Have you talked to people from the colonies?” Ralph looked hopeful as he spoke.

“No, not directly. My sources are in the black market. What they know is from selling to the colonies.”

Sam leaned her head back and shut her eyes. It was still too much to take in. She listened as Mary rose and staggered back to the bathroom. Sam wiped Mary’s sweat on her jeans, grimacing.

Ralph whispered. “What else aren’t you telling us?”

Allen hesitated until Sam spoke. “I want to know too.”

“Most people are pretty desperate. There’s shortages of everything. The black market helps, but there’s a high price, and very few people are able or willing to pay it.” He whispered, “Most people don’t make it very long. They give up, get sick, starve, or worse. If you’re going to make it, you’d better make your mind up right now that you’re going to.” He nodded back toward where Mary had gone. “There’s one that’s not going to make it long.”

Ralph asked, “How do people live, then?”

Allen stared at him hard. “Trade. You trade what you have.” He turned to Sam. “In some ways it’s easier for women, or harder, depending on how you look at it.”

“What are you saying?” Sam’s stomach was turning into a bunch of knots again.

Allen shrugged. “You know what I mean. You’ll always have something to trade for, if it comes to that.”

Mary staggered back out, her face ashen, and they allowed their conversation to quieten. Mary sank back into the seat and laid her forehead on Sam’s seat. Sam held her hand out above Mary’s head, and after a few seconds hesitation, stroked the woman’s hair. Mary cried quietly as Sam tried to comfort her.

Sam turned her attention outside their car, just to have something else to look at and think about. They were still within the borders, but just barely. Signs were posted along the tracks and the highway that ran alongside, reminding them that they were approaching the border check. Other than government cars, vehicles were almost never allowed to pass through. The train, however, was expected, and the gates would be open and ready for their exit.

As they approached, Sam stood to get a better view. The train rocked as it picked up speed, and she saw the lines of razor fencing clearly now, just yards ahead. They passed through the first gates. Soldiers patrolled the quarter mile between the fences. It was rumored that dogs were used too; Sam had even heard stories of land mines. They passed through the second fence, and she sat down.

Ralph laughed bitterly. “That’s it then, I guess.”

Mary had begun to cry again.

The change was dramatic. No cars dotted the highway. No people could be seen outside the ramshackle buildings that still stood. It was as if life had just stopped on this side of the fence.

“I wonder how far it is,” Sam spoke to no one in particular.

“Not very. Ten minutes, give or take.” Allen had gone back to fidgeting with the magazine. “So, you all know my dirty secret. What did you three do to find yourselves here?”

After an awkward pause, Ralph spoke first. “Um. Immorality.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was convicted of being a homosexual because of an, uh, incident when I was younger. I was given the choice between this and treatment. I hope I made the right choice.” He chuckled again.

Sam spoke, feeling her cheeks redden and hating herself for it. What do I have to be embarrassed about? “Immorality. My boyfriend and I had moved in together. We had tried for a license, but he’d been married before, so we were denied. We didn’t think anyone knew, but...” Her words trailed off.

She turned to Ralph and laughed, “At least you got the option to take treatment instead. My boyfriend did too.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Allen finished for her, “And he stayed.”

Sam nodded. “I knew it was risky, but he wanted me to move in so badly, and I just wanted to please him.”

Ralph smiled sympathetically. “That’s the way it usually goes. Women almost always get the worst end of the deal.” He turned to Mary. “And you?”

Mary was staring at them hard, her lips tightened into two thin white lines. “I didn’t do anything.”

Ralph shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. All that matters is what you’re accused of.”

Mary looked at each, weighing whether she should tell them. After nearly a minute, she decided. “They say the baby isn’t my husband’s, but it is. I’m not very far along, so I’m sure they’ve just made a mistake. When my husband straightens it out, I’ll be going home.” Her voice broke on the last word. She added in a whisper, “I’m sure it’s his.”

The train lurched as it began to slow, and Sam was almost grateful to have the moment upon them. She saw that they were pulling in to a dilapidated station that virtually matched the one they’d left. This one was crowded with people, all of whom looked ragged and hungry. Soldiers pushed them back to no avail; they poured around the soldiers and clamored for the train. Samantha wondered why they’d even bother; the train was in as bad a shape as anything.

The train stopped, and Sam wondered if she looked as pale and terrified as the others did, and decided that was probably the case. They filed out and were immediately whisked through the crowd and into the station by the guards. They were pushed into a dusty room that was furnished with a handful of mismatched plastic chairs and a metal desk. No one sat down.

An older man was there. He wore no uniform, but was instead dressed in a shabby suit. He looked like a bureaucrat down on his luck. “I’m here to welcome you and provide your orientation.”

As he spoke, his voice fell into a monotone. Sam wondered how many times he’d given this speech to others like them.

“You have been resettled in an effort to place you in a society more welcoming and befitting your —” here he paused — “lifestyle. You have been given a credit voucher that will provide you with a means of support until you obtain employment. You will all be given a list of employers and housing facilities where you may seek work and lodging.”

He continued. “There are few laws or societal demands, so you will find it easy to pursue your own interests. Some communities do have a sort of law enforcement, which is not endorsed or supported by the federal government.” He absently flipped the page on his clipboard. “Supply distribution takes place on Wednesday and Saturday. You should arrive early to ensure maximum availability.”

Ralph interrupted. “Excuse me. Where do we cash the voucher checks? Who do I talk to to get a room for tonight?”

The bureaucrat frowned, obviously displeased at the interruption. “Vouchers may be exchanged at a federally endorsed banking facility for the current exchange rate. You will be given a list of potential quarters.”

Sam spoke. “Exchange rate? Potential quarters? What exactly is the exchange rate?”

The man flipped the papers down on the clipboard. “I believe it is about three to one, currently.”

“Are you saying that my one thousand credit voucher is worth only about three hundred?” Sam’s voice rose in both fear and anger.

“Approximately.”

Ralph was on his feet. “This won’t do. This won’t do at all.”

They were interrupted by a boy who wore a soldier’s uniform that was obviously new to him. He fidgeted with the hat as he spoke. “They got through to the train again, sir.”

The bureaucrat rolled his eyes, as if to say, “Not again!” Turning to the four, he put on his best diplomatic smile. “I regret to inform you that your things have been stolen from the train by the mob outside. You may file a lost baggage claim, which will be processed as soon as feasible.”

Ralph took a step toward him, sputtering. “What? You can’t do this!”

Mary was crying again, loudly, and Sam felt close to tears herself.

The bureaucrat tucked the clipboard under his arm. “There is one last thing. You may, at this time, contest your exile.”

Mary jumped up. “I do! I want to contest!”

Sam allowed herself to hope, for a moment.

The bureaucrat flipped to the back of the clipboard. “Infidelity, correct?”

Mary’s voice was shrill. “No, not correct! Not correct at all!”

“I see. And you?” He turned to Sam. “Heterosexual immorality?”

Sam nodded, “But I want to contest it.”

Finally he turned to Ralph. “And you? Do you want to contest as well?”

Ralph nodded, but he had gone almost ashen. Sam wanted to sit down, but didn’t dare move.

Allen stepped forward, puffing another cigarette. “No, on all three. They confessed on the train.”

Mary cried out, and Sam felt her knees let go as she sank into the hard chair. Allen shrugged. “Sorry. I have to do what I can to survive, but I told you that already.”

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