 
EQUAL  
Part 1

### W.J. COSTELLO
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

EQUAL  
Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.  
Copyright © 2014 by W.J. Costello.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. For information address: wjcostello.com

### CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

AUTHOR INFO

### PROLOGUE

DEATH. IT WAS on his mind. All day, every day. Mors knew the others were thinking about it too. Distant look in their eyes. Muffled sobs.

He sat watching them now. One after another they shuffled past in their brown tunics. Brown—the color of earth, of soil, where their cremated ashes would soon be sprinkled.

Today was their last day on earth. December 31. Tomorrow every single one of them would turn fifty. They'd spend their last birthday burning in the crematorium, exiting this world in the form of rising black smoke. Including Mors.

He looked down at his brown tunic and shook his head. He'd known this day was coming. But so soon? Now? Where'd the time go? It seemed like only yesterday he was celebrating his tenth birthday, skipping stones across the water, running and playing in the warmth of the sun.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the numbers branded there, the date of his birth. It was almost fifty years ago. A lifetime. He sighed. Oh, to do it all over again.

Mors was sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees and his back pressed against the flagpole. Just above him flew the national flag of Equal. It was already at half-mast. He listened to it snapping in the wind as he watched the aimless wandering of brown tunics.

There were maybe six hundred of them here. On this island crematorium. An island located at the mouth of a harbor on the East Coast of Equal. There used to be a fortress here. Mors had heard all about from the guards. They'd told him it was a pentagon-shaped fortress of concrete and brick. You could still see its crumbling ruins on the outer edges of the Crematorium Building.

There were similar crematoriums located throughout the country of Equal. Crematoriums large enough to serve entire regions. They were used only two months out of the year. Whereas the smaller crematoriums were used all year round. For local purposes. Things like the cremation of lawbreakers. Or murder victims. Or those who died early of natural causes, or from accidental deaths.

The large regional crematoriums were designed for the single purpose of euthanizing every citizen who reached the age of fifty. It happened every year. Always on January 1. But the process would always begin on December 1. On that day every forty-nine-year-old Teacher in Equal would enter a regional crematorium.

Mors remembered going through the experience just thirty days ago. He remembered the guard's instructions. Take off the gold tunic. Put on the brown one. Now you're no longer a Teacher. You're a Guest. Walk this way. This is your roommate. These are your temporary quarters. Rules. No leaving the crematorium grounds. No suicide attempts. No fighting. The month of December—your last month—is to be spent reflecting on your life.

Now Mors shook his head at the memory. Afternoon sun on his face. Flag billowing overhead. Brown tunics trudging past.

After a while he saw a group of guards taking a break. They reminded him of his youth, his time as a Sheriff, back when he was working guard duty at a crematorium not unlike this one. It was a miserable part of the job, but you had to do it. He figured he must have euthanized and cremated over five thousand citizens. Some at the small local crematorium, some at the large regional one. Five thousand citizens. Up in smoke. Gone.

Mors hugged his knees tighter now. He sat watching the group of guards for a little longer. He felt sorry for them, the poor things, stuck here. He thought about their schedule. December 1 through December 31: guard the Guests. January 1: euthanize and cremate the Guests. January 2 through January 15: clean up the crematorium. January 16 through January 26: deliver the cremated ashes to Farmers. The schedule was depressing enough to make you want to climb into the ovens yourself.

Mors remembered the hot working conditions. Standing close to ovens. Pushing dead bodies in. Sweat pouring off your face.

Looking up now, squinting into the sun glare, he saw the tall crematorium chimneys. Three of them. Vertical structures that appeared monstrous where they rose against the sky. Their long shadows fell over the crematorium grounds like the iron bars of a jail cell. The sight brought back memories for him. Difficult memories. Ugly memories.

He looked away.

A few moments later he reached down and picked up a clod of dirt. He held it tight in his fist. Then he let it sift between his fingers as he thought about his time as a Farmer. He remembered having to sprinkle cremated ashes over the fields, having to fertilize the soil with the remains of citizens he'd never even met, their entire existence passing through his fingers. Now Mors felt sorry for the Farmers. Soon every single one of them would have countless ashes to spread.

Some of the Guests started to chant now. Guests would do that every now and then. It helped to pass the time. Mors sat listening to them as they kept whispering, "Individuals are nothing. Society is everything." Then a different chant. "Every citizen exists for every other citizen." Then another chant. "You are us. We are you."

Mors wiped his soiled hand on his brown tunic. He wrapped his arms around his knees again. Then he sat looking past the guards, past the Guests, past the edge of the island. Staring out at the sparkling sea, he said to himself, Mors, old boy, not a day in your adult life has passed without your thinking about your last dying day. Well, now that day has finally arrived. And you're still thinking about it.

He thought, You know, it wasn't a bad life. Could have been better. But not too bad. Wouldn't mind doing it all over again. He thought, To be alive. What an experience. You show up. You do stuff. You leave forever. That was your life. Those who are never born don't know what they're missing.

A good-looking woman walked past Mors now. His eyes followed her. Nice breasts. Good hips. Maybe he should try to get some of that. Not a bad way to spend your last day.

Mors had to smile, seeing all those women in his mind now, countless women he'd slept with over the years. So many of them. Wonderful, wonderful women. One of the highlights of life.

He returned his attention to the good-looking woman. He watched her for maybe ten seconds. He liked the way her wide hips swayed when she walked. He liked the way her large breasts jiggled with each step.

He thought about wide hips and large breasts. Hundreds of years ago those two features were relevant to childbearing and nurturing. That was back when it was still possible for women to get pregnant. Back then women with wide hips and large breasts were ideally built for having babies.

But things were different now. Now wide hips and large breasts had no biological significance. None. But men were still attracted to those two features. The biological response was still hardwired into their brains.

Scientists could only do so much, Mors thought. They couldn't alter everything about humans. Especially those things that were hardwired into the brain. Genetic engineering did have its limitations.

The five years Mors had spent working as a Scientist had been among the worst in his life. The work had seemed sinister to him. Designing humans. Creating life. He'd hated doing it. Citizens were always saying, "Only Scientists can make babies." And it was true. But Scientists could do more than just make babies. They could _design_ babies. They could give them gray flesh, make them infertile, create them to be Equal. All of it had been very disturbing to Mors. Very disturbing. At the time he couldn't wait to finish his five years as a Scientist so that he could begin his five years as a Teacher.

Now he stretched his stiff legs out in front of him. After a moment he got up and started to walk among the other Guests. All of them had been Teachers not that long ago. They were his peers, his cohort, his generation. The arc of their lives had run parallel to his. Same arc, same timeline, same everything. As Guests they were the eldest and wisest members of society.

Mors thought, You spend all those years accumulating knowledge, getting your act together, understanding who you are and how things work. And when you finally have it all together, when you finally know what's going on, what happens to you? They pull the plug on you. Snuff you out. End it all. They take your body from you just when your mind has hit its stride.

This is it, Mors said to himself. It's the end of the road for you, old boy. Tomorrow you'll be leaving the world forever.

Leaving.

Leaving for what? What comes next? You exit this world—and then what?

Mors had no idea. He tried not to think about it. It was one of those existential questions that could give you a headache if you thought about it too much. He hoped death wasn't the end of it all. He hoped something else came after. But if it didn't? Well, he really wouldn't know it, would he?

Mors stopped walking now. He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples. Then he started to walk again.

As he circulated among the other Guests he thought about how nice it was to have all these people around. Most of his life had been spent in isolation. Everyone's life was like that. Living alone. Working alone. Playing alone. That's how it was. You resided in your own lodging. Jobs were mostly autonomous. And your free time? Well, you were forbidden from having anyone special in your life. No special lovers or friends. No emotional attachments of any kind. You had to treat everyone the same way. Like they were the same person. No one was special. Everyone was Equal. So you could choose to spend your free time with people who mean almost nothing to you, or you could choose to do something else. You might as well spend your free time doing something that makes you happy, gives you some kind of personal satisfaction, something like a goal. That's what Mors had ultimately concluded.

For him the goal had always been to become a great writer. Most of his free time had been spent on improving his craft. He often had little to say, but he could always say it very well. Finding just the right combination of words, producing crisp prose, developing his writer's voice—these things had always given him great satisfaction. Endless hours of satisfaction.

He'd written for himself, not for other people. Why show your work to others? Who in the world would care? No one. That's how Mors had always seen it. It was the process of writing he'd enjoyed, not showing the results to the outside world.

And so most of his free time had been spent in solitary splendor, working on his goal, improving his writing. The remaining portion of his free time had been spent feeling isolated. Which was why he was happy to be surrounded by people today. He didn't want to die alone.

Now he saw a Guest juggling rocks. Juggling was something Mors had always wanted to do. Learning how to juggle was on his bucket list. But he'd never gotten around to doing it. There were many things on his bucket list he'd never gotten around to doing. Guess they weren't really that important.

Mors walked with his hands clasped behind his back, taking his time, absorbed in thought. The last few years, he thought, they went by so fast. Gone before you even knew it. Where'd they go?

He wished he could think about something other than the end of his life. Something other than death. But his mind wouldn't let him.

Death, he thought. All of it happening en masse on a single day. January 1. The very same day in which all those babies enter the world. Birth and death. Death and birth. Circle of life. All of it crammed into twenty-four hours. Millions of babies coming to life in Science Buildings throughout the country. Millions of adults going to death in Crematorium Buildings throughout the country. And all of it for what? Population control? Equal lifetimes?

Those lucky babies, Mors thought. Those lucky, lucky babies. They get to spend tomorrow in a Science Building instead of a Crematorium Building. Then he thought, But your luck only lasts so long. Fifty years from now? Those babies will be Guests in some crematorium, having these same feelings, these same thoughts of death. Welcome to my world.

Mors was conscious of the vitality of his body. At forty-nine he still felt like a man half his age. He'd never been sick a day in his life. His body was healthy. A specimen of perfection.

His body was nothing more than a shell encapsulating his mind. But his thoughts couldn't go on in its absence. His outer shell was necessary. Mors believed it was healthy enough to last a few more decades if given the chance.

If.

But it was society and not nature that held the power to take away his body. Society trumped nature. Always.

Now Mors made his way up a grassy slope. When he got to the top he stood staring out at the sea again. He wondered what euthanasia would be like. He imagined it to be like falling asleep—but with no dreams, no nightmares, and no waking up.

He knew what his last thought would be. Breathing in the gas, he'd be thinking, Oh, shit.

All of a sudden a dolphin broke the surface of the water. Mors came out of his reverie. He stood and watched the dolphin for a long time. Blue fin gliding through water, rising and falling, appearing and disappearing. The animal seemed to be enjoying life. Enjoying freedom.

Mors sighed. He said to himself, Well, old boy, you should probably go take a nap and rest up. You're going to need a lot of energy tonight. That woman with the nice breasts and good hips, she's going to be in for a marathon session.

As he made his way back down the grassy slope, heading toward his temporary quarters, Mors thought about his cremated ashes. Where will they be sprinkled? And who's going to show up at the cremation ceremony? A Farmer, of course. Someone has to do the sprinkling. But who else? Mors's younger coworkers? Sure, some of them will attend. But no one else. No one he could think of. Just a Farmer and some Teachers. Those people will be the last ones on earth to ever think about him. And no one will ever think about him again after that day. Why would they? He never did anything special in his life. He was just like everyone else. Common. Ordinary. Equal.

Mors could imagine how things would go at the cremation ceremony. The Farmer and the Teachers standing out in some field. None of them wanting to be there. All of them feeling some obligation to attend. They'd say things like, "Mors was such a good citizen," sounding insincere. No sense of sorrow in their tone. They'd say, "Mors never thought he was better than anyone else," sounding bored with the whole thing. These were the same tired phrases you always heard at these kinds of gatherings. You never heard anything like, "Good riddance. I never did like him." No, you kept things like that to yourself.

Mors took another moment to picture the Farmer and the Teachers. He could see them standing over his cremated ashes. Heads bent, hands crossed before them, eyes fixed on the ground. They'd be thinking about their own date with death, feeling joyful the scattered ashes were his and not theirs. Mors could see the attendees dispersing from the field, moving on with their lives, forgetting all about him. As if he'd never even existed.

Never born. Never lived. Never died.

Oblivion.

### CHAPTER 1

ONE MONTH EARLIER. Sheriff Janus stood watching the cremated ashes of his secret lover being sprinkled over the muddy field. Dark rain coming down. Cold. He watched with no expression on his face. Just like the other Sheriffs in attendance. But his hand, hidden from view in his tunic pocket, was caressing a small object. A memento from her.

When he glanced sidelong at the others he saw Sheriff Orcus glaring back at him. Suspicious eyes in the misty drizzle.

Janus knew Orcus was looking for a sign of emotion. But there was none. Janus's face revealed nothing. It was without expression. A blank slate.

Janus focused on the boy now. Watching him sprinkle the ashes. Little fingers moving back and forth. Soiled fingers. The fingers of a Farmer. Neck of a Farmer too. Dark from the sun. Which made it hard to read the numbers branded on the back of the neck—the boy's serial number and date of birth. Janus squinted, trying to see the boy's age. But the neck was too dark, the green tunic kept getting in the way, and the rain wasn't helping.

Janus tried to stay focused on the boy. Tried to block the woman from his mind. But he couldn't. Thoughts of her consumed him like fire.

Staring at her remains now, he thought, That's all that's left of her. Just a handful of powdery gray ashes. Ashes blowing in the wet wind. Fertilizing a field. Providing a socially beneficial function even in death. Even in death.

He shook his head.

When the boy sprinkled the last of the ashes the Sheriffs gave a final nod to the deceased. Then they mounted their horses and dispersed into the surrounding woods.

At the edge of the woods Janus stopped his horse and looked over his shoulder to survey the muddy field one last time. The rain mizzling. A gray world. Through the mist he could see Orcus staring back at him from a distance. He could see the man's breath pluming white in the cold air.

Janus wiped his nose on the back of his wrist and turned to face the woods again. Then he shook the reins and headed home.

* * *

SHERIFF JANUS CREAKED back in the chair and stared at the small object before him on the round table. The object was a memento from his deceased lover. It was something she used to wear every day, placing it in her ear each morning, wearing it to her job as a Sheriff, keeping it in her ear even when she got home from work, taking it out only when she went to bed at night.

Janus sipped his vodka now. The drink soothed him. The first drink was always the best. The comfort it gave him in the early evenings always outweighed the problems it led to in the late hours of darkness.

Rain drummed on the roof of his lodging. The fireplace crackled. He set his empty glass back on the table. Closed his eyes. Pictured her. Their last conversation. She'd made a simple request, asking him to stay with her that night, the night of the accident. But he'd said no because work came first. Then he'd left her there. Alone.

Guilt haunted him now. The guilt of choosing duty over love. He wondered how things would have turned out if his decision had been to stay with her that night. Would she still be alive? Could he have saved her from the accident? These questions were impossible to answer. But they still haunted him.

Now Janus opened his eyes. Frowned at his empty glass. He picked up the bottle of vodka and poured another drink. Drank a swallow. Felt the warmth ease through his body. Drank some more. Drank till the glass was empty. Then put it back on the table.

He picked up the object from the table and studied it. It was tiny. It was white. It was her Equalizer.

Some citizens were required to wear one. Citizens who were different. Different because they possessed one or more areas of superiority and/or inferiority. These citizens were unequal to normal citizens. Equalizers leveled these inequalities. The electronic device emitted electronic signals that weakened areas of superiority and strengthened areas of inferiority. It made attractive faces normal by creating skin blemishes. It made athletic bodies normal by weakening muscles. It made intelligent minds normal by lowering IQ. And vice versa for unattractive faces and unathletic bodies and unintelligent minds. Equalizers ensured that every citizen was Equal to every other citizen in every possible way.

Janus had never been required to wear an Equalizer because he'd never developed any areas of superiority or inferiority.

Now he rolled her Equalizer between his forefinger and thumb as he thought about her area of superiority—her stunning beauty. He rose from the chair and ambled over to the fireplace and mumbled under his breath and threw the electronic device into the roaring fire and then sat down again to make another drink.

* * *

WHEN SHERIFF JANUS arrived at work in the morning he went straight to his desk. He found Sheriff Orcus sitting there, tilted back in Janus's chair, his muddy boots up on Janus's desk.

"You always put your feet up?"

"Improves my thinking."

"Something should."

The Sheriff's Department was bustling with activity. Sheriffs coming and going. Lawbreakers getting booked. Citizens filing complaints.

Every citizen aged twenty-one to twenty-five was a Sheriff. Janus was a twenty-one-year-old rookie. Orcus was a twenty-four-year-old veteran. Seniority offered no advantages. Everyone working in the Sheriff's Department received the same salary and held the same title and wore the same uniform.

Now Orcus laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back farther in Janus's chair and stamped his muddy boots on Janus's desk. Grinning at Janus, he said, "I've been thinking about you."

"Lucky me." Janus stood looking at the mud caked on his desk. No expression on his face.

"You got a smart mouth."

"It's a gift."

"Try keeping it wrapped up."

"What do you want, Orcus?"

Only thirteen more months, Janus thought. Then Orcus will be gone. He'll turn twenty-six and become a Blacksmith. He'll be someone else's problem. Only fourteen more months. Not that long.

"What do I want? I want to know how things are going."

"Things?"

"Things."

Janus knew what Orcus was referring to. The man wanted an update on the competition between the two of them. It was an unspoken competition. It was unspoken because competition was forbidden in Equal. Competition was the antithesis of the socially stable environment demanded by the people and delivered by the government.

"Things are perfect," Janus said. "Just perfect."

Orcus grunted.

Janus knew Orcus understood. Knew the man could read between the lines. Could translate the meaning of "perfect." It meant Janus still had a perfect capture record. No Runner assigned to him had ever escaped. He'd captured all of them.

Janus wasn't the only one with a perfect capture record. Orcus had one too. So it was a competition between the two of them.

Who was the better Sheriff? The answer wasn't clear. Orcus had been Sheriffing longer, which made it more difficult to maintain a perfect capture record. But Janus had maintained a perfect capture during his rookie year, which was when most mistakes were made. No other Sheriff in the local Sheriff's Department had ever done that before. Except one. Orcus.

"Things are about to change," Orcus said, folding his arms across his chest.

Janus raised his eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"Diana."

"Diana?"

"Your new assignment."

Janus didn't say anything.

"She's not your average Runner."

Janus waited.

"She's already evaded three separate Sheriffs."

"And?"

"And you're next."

Runners were lawbreakers who tried to flee from society. A Sheriff was given three days to capture a particular Runner. If you failed? The assignment was given to another Sheriff. Assignments were handed out by the eldest Sheriff in each Sheriff's Department.

Janus turned and started to walk off toward the office of the eldest Sheriff.

"Hey—were you crying?"

Janus heard the voice behind him. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Orcus. "What?

"Yesterday," Orcus said. "At the cremation ceremony. Were you crying?"

Janus had to think about it. He was pretty sure no emotions had played across his face, betraying his secret, his forbidden passion for another. Yet there might have been one tender moment. A moment when his eyes had been swimming with regret. But tears would have been impossible for anyone to see in the dark rain.

Janus said to Orcus, "Always trying to bring me down. Aren't you? But you haven't succeeded."

"Yet."

"Crazy—that's what you are."

"Something to keep in mind." Orcus's mouth formed a grin. Then his eyebrows went up and down twice.

* * *

SHERIFF JANUS HEADED back to his desk after getting his new assignment from Sheriff Aurora. He dropped into his chair and nibbled at his lower lip. He opened the folder. Began to read about his new assignment.

Diana 040-71-967. Age: 18.

He skipped down to the section on her childhood.

Birth to five years: Student. Demonstrated superior intelligence during first year. Issued an Equalizer. Equalizer programmed to lower IQ to 100.

Six to ten years: Clothier. Demonstrated superior athleticism during ninth year. Equalizer programmed to weaken muscles to normal strength.

Eleven to fifteen years: Farmer. Demonstrated superior attractiveness during thirteenth year. Equalizer programmed to create skin blemishes that reduced appearance to normal level.

Sixteen to eighteen years: Cook. All three areas of superiority rapidly developed further during eighteenth year.

Janus set the folder on his desk and put his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. He thought, Three areas of superiority. Is that even possible? Three areas? Three?

He thought about what Sheriff Orcus had told him. That she's not your average Runner. That she's already evaded three separate Sheriffs. Janus frowned now. Dammit, he thought, there goes your perfect capture record.

His perfect capture record was the only thing that kept him going. It justified his existence, gave him purpose, a sense of himself. He was no one without it. Just another hollow person. The same as everyone else.

Sheriffing was something he could do well. Very well. Perhaps the only thing he was good at.

Janus opened his eyes now. He stared into space for a moment. Then he pressed his chin to his chest, wondering why he was feeling this way. Feeling superior was wrong. It made him a bad citizen. Bad citizens could make the country socially unstable. Janus knew the concept of Equality was good, so how come he was being so damn selfish?

He kept looking down, trying to figure it out, make sense of it. After a while his eyes drifted up to the mud caked on his desk. Mud from Orcus's boots. Janus glaring at it. Cracking his knuckles now . . .

He sat upright, forward in the chair, and reached and picked up the file again. He brought out the rendering of Diana's image. He studied it. Memorizing her features. Making sure he'd recognize her when he found her.

And he _would_ find her. No doubt about it. It was what he was good at.

### CHAPTER 2

ANTEVORTA WRINKLED HER nose. The smell wafting through the air was pungent. Like burnt sulfur. It seemed to be coming from the group of five-year-olds, twenty of them, standing over there in their little red tunics.

Antevorta studied them, thinking, Grubby faces, runny noses, dirty hands. Disgusting creatures.

One boy, the shortest of the group, was picking his nose. Then sticking his finger in his mouth. Little savages—that's what they were. Germ-carrying savages.

Antevorta now felt the need to wash her hands for the third time today. And what a day it was. Having to escort these little turds through the laboratories. Explaining what Scientists did. Answering stupid questions. It's not how a Scientist should have to spend her day. Especially today. Not with those technical hiccups occurring in the Genetic Engineering Department.

"Ma'am?"

Antevorta looked down. One of the girls had said something to her. "You have a question?"

The little girl gave her a nod and said, "How old are Scientists?"

"How old do you think we are?"

The girl, wearing a little frown, looked Antevorta up and down. "Hmmm," she said, thoughtful. "You look about thirty."

Awww, how sweet. What an adorable child. Antevorta was about to pat the girl on the head but then thought better of it. What she did, she crouched. Eye to eye with the child, she said, "Every citizen between the ages of forty-one and forty-five is a Scientist." She paused and said, "Me—I'm forty-four."

Eyes wide open, the girl put her hand to her mouth. Antevorta mirrored the gesture. And the girl giggled. That was when Antevorta noticed the Equalizer in the girl's ear. Hmmm, she thought. Wonder what it's for. Superiority? Inferiority? Combination of both?

Antevorta stood up and smoothed her silver tunic. She looked past the twenty little Students and their Teacher. Looked past them and saw the glass doors. Doors emblazoned with GENETIC ENGINEERING DEPARTMENT in bold black letters. Scientists inside there, her coworkers, were busy working on something of significance. While she was stuck entertaining Students on a field trip. She sighed.

Then, without saying a word, she waved the little savages to come on. The tour continued through the laboratories on the third floor. Questions the entire time. "What's that?" "A microscope." "What's that?" "A beaker." "What's that?" "A Petri dish." Driving Antevorta out of her mind.

And then, finally, a good question. It came from the Teacher. "Can you explain to the children why some citizens have to wear an Equalizer?"

Antevorta reached into her pocket, brought out an Equalizer. She threw it in the air and caught it in her hand. Now she had their attention. She said to the Teacher, "You bet," and to the Students, "Follow me."

She led them down the stairs to the second floor. They passed through a corridor, turned around a corner, and stopped in front of glass doors labeled EQUALIZER DEPARTMENT.

Antevorta turned to the group. Raising her hand, she said, "Show of hands. How many of you wear an Equalizer?"

Two kids raised their hands. The same proportion as the population at large. Ten percent.

Antevorta nodded. Opening one of the glass doors, she signaled the group to enter. They entered. Antevorta scanned the enormous room, searching for the eldest Scientist, eyeing them one by one . . . There he was. He was looking right at her. Antevorta smiled at him and gestured to the field-trip group. As if to say, Is it okay for them to tour the department now? He gave her a nod, yes, it's okay.

Sometimes departments were too busy to accommodate visitors. Just like today in the Genetic Engineering Department. There was too much going on in there today. No visitors allowed.

Antevorta felt a tug at her tunic. She looked down to see a grimy little hand gripping her tunic. Tugging at it. It was the hand of the nose-picker. Great. Now Antevorta would have to wash her tunic after work today. Little savage. What'd he want? The boy pointed to the glass water tank. He wanted to see the tank. Okay, fine, Antevorta thought. We can start with the tank. It's as good a place as any.

She led the group across the huge room. Past rows of laboratory tables with stainless steel sinks and faucets. Past Scientists wearing clear goggles and white gloves. Past the assembly line producing Equalizers. The cacophony of the mammoth machines filled the room. Thrumming and hissing and groaning. You could feel the floor vibrating underfoot. Antevorta imagined it was an impressive sight for those seeing it for the first time.

When she got to the tank—a giant glass tank full of water and Equalizers—she stopped and turned around. Everyone in the group was staring in wonder at all the technology. Everyone's eyes were glittering. Antevorta stood in front of the tank with her hands clasped behind her back. Smiling, she asked the kids would they please take a seat on the floor. They did as they were told. Some of them sat on their heels. Others sat with legs crossed. Their Teacher stood behind them.

Antevorta was getting the feel of it now, what it's like to be a Teacher, kids doing what you tell them to do. She liked the feeling. The power. It was something she could get used to. Which was a good thing because her days as a Scientist were coming to an end. There was only a little over a year left. Then she'd have to move on. Become a Teacher. No choice in the matter. You turn forty-six, you become a Teacher. And that was that.

She thought the power aspect of being a Teacher was good. But having to interact with germ-carrying savages? That was bad. So on balance it was a wash.

Pointing her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the glass water tank, Antevorta told her little audience they were looking at the newest version of the Equalizer, now one-hundred-percent waterproof. She told them the tank could perform all kinds of tests on the tiny electronic device. Hot water. Cold water. Pressurized water. The kids seemed impressed.

"Earlier," Antevorta said, "your Teacher asked me a question. He wanted to know how come some citizens have to wear an Equalizer. Before we get to his question there are a few things you need to know." She paused a moment and said, "Who can tell me the purpose of science?"

No hands went up.

"Any guesses?"

Nothing. Blank stares. So much for Q and A.

Antevorta told them, "The purpose of science—the sole purpose—is to create and maintain an environment of Equality for every citizen." She said, "Now, how do Scientists do that?" It was a rhetorical question. "There are several ways. One way is to use genetic engineering to design humans. Design them to be the same. Same level of attractiveness, athleticism, intelligence. Sameness—that's the goal. Designing humans to be the same is the first step in creating an environment of Equality."

Oh, look, a hand went up. Good. Antevorta pointed to the questioner.

The little girl rose and said, "Is that why every citizen has gray flesh?"

Antevorta smiled, saying to her, "Not exactly." Saying, "Scientists also use genetic engineering to design humans to conform to desired features. Gray flesh is a desired feature. Gray, because it's neither black nor white. It's neutral."

The girl nodded, sat down again.

Antevorta's eyes swept over the audience, a sea of gray faces staring back at her, listeners waiting for more words of wisdom. She cleared her throat and took a moment to compose her thoughts before saying, "Another desired feature is the inability to produce offspring. Which is why humans are designed to be infertile."

The enormous machines of the assembly line were rumbling with such intensity Antevorta could feel it in her bones. She looked over her shoulder at the giant glass tank full of water and Equalizers. The glass was shaking, the water disturbed. Antevorta was glad she worked in the Genetic Engineering Department, where it was quieter. She turned back to the Students.

"Everyone knows that only Scientists can make babies. But there used to be a time when every child had parents. A mother and a father. This was something that led to problems. See, babies born to parents didn't enter the world as Equals. Some were born with superior traits of one kind or another. Others were born with inferior traits. And not every baby was blessed with good parents. There was no fairness to the system. No Equality."

Another hand went up. The kids were getting into it now.

Antevorta heard the boy say, "And things are better now? More Equal?" She told him they were. She explained that babies now entered the world as Equals. Born with the same traits. Raised by the state instead of by parents. Nurtured in an environment of Equality for every citizen.

The boy nodded, sat down again.

Now Antevorta watched a group of Scientists working in a far corner of the room. They seemed to be experimenting with the electronic signals emitted by the newest version of the Equalizer. It looked like they were trying to find additional ways to weaken areas of superiority and strengthen areas of inferiority. Antevorta was pretty sure that's what they were doing.

When she returned her attention to the audience she could see that the kids were looking over their shoulders to see what was going on in that far corner of the room. She could see the numbers branded on the back of their necks—their serial numbers and dates of birth. It reminded her of another topic to discuss.

"If I could have your attention," she said.

All the little heads turned to face this way.

"How many of you have a birthday on the first day of January?"

All the kids raised their hands. Antevorta knew they would.

Now she turned her back to them, saying, "Me too," and then reached behind her head, lifting her hair from her neck, revealing her serial number and date of birth, saying, "Notice, the year's different than yours." Antevorta standing still for a few moments, giving the kids a chance to see it, the date on her neck. Then turning to face them again. Telling them that every citizen shares the same birthday.

How come? Because January 1 of each year is when all the lab-developed babies are mass-produced for that particular year. Mass-produced at the forty-eight Genetic Engineering Departments that dot the country. Each of the forty-eight locations is responsible for producing a certain number of babies.

How many? Well, kids, that depends on how many deaths occur during the previous year. See, the population of Equal remains constant at roughly one billion citizens. Scientists make sure of that. And so do Sheriffs.

Sheriffs? Sure, kids. Sheriffs are the ones responsible for enforcing the mandatory euthanasia of every citizen at the age of fifty.

Euthanasia? It's the painless killing of citizens. It's how we maintain population control. It's also how we provide the same lifespan to every citizen. Everyone gets fifty years. No more, no less. Well, sometimes less. Nothing can be done about early deaths. And nothing can be done about lawbreakers who receive the death penalty before reaching fifty.

Sounds came from the glass water tank now. Gurgling sounds. Antevorta turned to see one of the Scientists operating the tank controls. She knew what he was doing. He was testing the new Equalizers for their ability to withstand boiling water. Good timing, because Antevorta wanted to talk about Equalizers next. It was finally time to answer the Teacher's question.

Antevorta turned to face the audience again. "Sameness," she said. "Designing humans to be the same. It's an imperfect process. Scientists have yet to produce flawless results. But we're working on it. Perhaps someday . . ." She broke off, staring into space for a moment, lost in thought.

"Despite our best efforts," she said, "anomalies sometimes occur. Ten percent of all babies develop unique traits. Sometimes superior traits. Sometimes inferior traits. And, in a few rare cases, both.

"These traits tend to develop in spurts. Unpredictable spurts. You wake up one morning and _boom_ —you're different than you were the day before. Maybe more intelligent. Maybe less intelligent. Maybe more attractive but less athletic. It happens.

"Other citizens notice when these changes occur, and they report it to the authorities. That's when you get issued an Equalizer. You must wear this little electronic device in your ear at all times. It emits electronic signals uniquely programmed to eliminate your particular areas of superiority and/or inferiority. Whether it's attractiveness and/or athleticism and/or intelligence. And/or whatever. Your Equalizer makes you Equal to everyone else. Only about ten percent of the population is required to wear one."

Antevorta saw some of the audience members eyeing the two kids who wore Equalizers. She said, "Look at this," pointing to the glass water tank. Thousands of the tiny white electronic devices were dancing to the beat of the boiling water. Antevorta stood with her arms folded, observing the spectacle, the magic of science. Incredible.

Now she heard a voice. A deep voice, several feet away, saying, "They don't always get the job done, those Equalizers."

Antevorta looked over her shoulder to see the Sheriff standing behind the seated audience. Where'd he come from? Antevorta studied him. Blue tunic. Long scar on his chin. The dark gray tone to his skin was probably from working outside too much.

Sheriffs did that. They spent a large part of the day working outside in the sun. Antevorta remembered her time as a Sheriff. Which had been—what, over nineteen years ago? Long time ago. Her skin too had been dark at the time. But now it was a pale shade of gray. Too many hours working in the lab.

She said to the Sheriff, "Something I can help you with?"

He gave her a nod.

She watched him walking this way now. He was saying, "You Antevorta?" with his calloused hand extended toward her. Antevorta ignored the gesture. She didn't want to have to wash her hands again.

When the Sheriff asked if he could have a word with her she stared at him. She wanted to say something like, Can't you see I'm busy here? But what she said was, "Problem?"

He shook his head, saying, "Just a couple questions, ma'am." Saying, "The front office referred me to you."

Wasn't that just great? The front office thought Antevorta had nothing better to do with her working day than to escort little savages through the laboratories and to answer questions from whoever happens to drop by.

She turned to the kids and told them, "Just a minute," and then led the Sheriff to an isolated corner of the gigantic room. When the two of them were alone she folded her arms and raised her eyebrows and waited.

He told her his name was Sheriff Janus.

She didn't say anything.

Her cold silence didn't faze him. He went on.

"Like I said, they don't always get the job done, those Equalizers."

Antevorta knew what the Sheriff was referring to. Sometimes citizens would develop unique traits to such an extent that they were immune to Equalizers. Electronic signals emitted by the device were only so strong. At a certain point they were rendered useless. When citizens developed beyond this point there was no way to level their inequalities. They were superior citizens, and nothing could be done to make them normal. So they had to be euthanized. The problem was, not all of them accepted their fate. They became Runners. Running from society. Running for survival. Only to be captured and returned by Sheriffs.

Antevorta said to the Sheriff, "You're right. Equalizers don't always get the job done. But Scientists are always working on improving the technology."

The Sheriff was nodding. "And a fine job they're doing."

Was that sarcasm? Could it have been? Probably not. The look on his face seemed sincere.

The Sheriff was saying, "First question, you or your coworkers ever run across three areas of superiority?"

Antevorta frowned. "Developed by a single citizen?"

The Sheriff nodded. "Developed beyond Equalizer capacity."

She eyed him, brow furrowed, serious. "You're joking."

"Wish I were, ma'am."

"Three areas? Beyond Equalizer capacity? That's unheard of."

"What I suspected," he said, scratching his jaw.

They were quiet now. The din of machinery playing in the background. The floor vibrating underfoot.

Antevorta said, "We're talking about a Runner?"

"We are," the Sheriff said. "Name's Diana." His hand went to his tunic pocket and brought out a piece of paper. It was soiled and wrinkled. He smoothed it out, handed it to Antevorta.

She took it, reluctant, wrinkling her nose. She read it. It was a fact sheet from the Sheriff's Department. It listed facts about a Runner named Diana.

The Sheriff tapped the paper and said, "Next question, see anything there could be helpful?"

Antevorta took a moment to study the fact sheet. She started to hand it back to him, saying, "Nothing," then stopped to look at it again, thoughtful. "Maybe one thing. Diana's date of birth coincides with a significant event. It's the same day our Genetic Engineering Department was broken into."

The Sheriff's eyebrows went up. "Is that a fact?"

### CHAPTER 3

LATE AFTERNOON, PLENTY of people around, you still got the feeling the black market was a dangerous place to be. Especially for a Sheriff.

Sheriff Janus tied his horse out of sight of the road. He worried about leaving the animal alone for any length of time. It could very well end up in a pot of stew. Merchants at the black market were known for doing that.

Now Janus cupped his hands over his mouth and blew in them and began to snake his way through the woods. Wind whistling through the trees. Dry leaves rustling.

He stopped at the edge of the woods. He stood surveying the dirt road, looking left, looking right. Making sure no one would see him exiting this part of the woods.

The coast was clear.

He stepped out into the road. He began to walk up a rise. His boots crunching on brown pebbles. He was thinking about all the Sheriffs who'd been killed at the black market. He was thinking about getting back on his horse and heading home. It was an option. Something to consider.

The problem was, he needed to find Diana, and the black market was the best place to look. Her lodging was located there.

The black market was illegal. Which was why Sheriffs were unwanted there. This never made sense to Janus because Sheriffs always left the merchants alone. Never bothered them. The black market, illegal or not, was a good thing. It provided goods and services you could never find at the government-run public market. And it was open twenty-four hours a day, every single day, no exceptions. Every citizen relied on the black market. Including Sheriffs.

Topping the rise now, Janus could see the long row of red-brick buildings on either side of the road. In the middle of the road were tables. Jumbles of tables under shade umbrellas. Merchants at each table. Customers crowding around. Merchants and customers engaging in negotiations and verbal maneuvering. Purchases made. Bags filled with goods. Services performed.

The goods and services that were sold out on the road were never of the prohibited kind. Prohibited goods and services were sold inside the buildings. Hidden from view. It was a different world inside those buildings. Drug trafficking. Human trafficking. Arms trafficking. Prostitution. You name it, you could get it. No problem.

Prohibited vices never interested Janus. His vice was vodka. Vodka wasn't prohibited. You could buy it at the government-run public market. Except when they had shortages. Which was often. Then you had to buy it at the black market.

Janus, still cupping his hands over his mouth and blowing in them, now approached the outer fringes of the crowd. As he got closer he observed two things. One, there was some stew cooking in a pot. And, two, there was a dog limping along with one missing leg. Janus wondered if the two observations were related.

He was weaving his way through the crowd when he caught a glimpse of several merchants eyeing him with suspicion. He knew why they were staring. It was because of his blue tunic. It made him stand out like a bull's-eye target at a bow-and-arrow contest.

A few minutes later he walked past a cluster of merchants selling bottled perfume, and a familiar scent wafted through the air. It reminded him of his deceased lover because she used to wear that same perfume. Janus would buy it for her. A little gift from time to time. You could get it only at the black market.

Now Janus pictured her, his deceased lover. He pictured her giggling. It was something she always used to do.

Her death was his fault, he knew. He should have stayed with her that night, the night of the accident. But he'd gone to work instead. Why? If only he could go back in time. If only.

She was a ghost now. The memory of her haunted his every waking hour—always thinking about their time together, unable to forget it, regret eating at him.

Now Janus moved away from the tables of bottled perfume. But he could still smell that familiar smell. So he began to move faster. Then he realized something. His hands were trembling. And he knew why.

His eyes scanned the black market. Searching for it. Desperate for it. Spotting it now. Over there. Not far. He gravitated in that direction. Drawn to it like a moth to a flame. The warmth of it. Vodka. Merchants selling vodka.

Then something happened. Something inside Janus made him stop. He stood looking at the bottles of vodka lined up on the tables. Row after row after row. Clear bottles filled with the magical elixir. He knew better than to drink at a time like this. There was a job to do. A Runner to capture. And drinking would only slow him down.

He turned away. Looked in another direction. Saw the oak tree. He headed for it, his hand going into his pocket, digging for one of the wanted posters. He brought one out, unfolded it.

When he got to the oak tree he stood scanning the public notices posted to its trunk. He found an unused tack and plucked it out. He used it to pin up the wanted poster.

Now he stepped back and folded his arms and looked at the blizzard of white paper pinned to the great oak. The wanted poster of Diana seemed lost. Buried in a snowstorm.

But the wanted poster _would_ be seen. Janus was sure of it. Some citizen passing through the black market would stop at the oak tree to read the public notices. Would see the rendering of Diana on the wanted poster. Would recognize her. Next thing you know, this citizen is showing up at the Sheriff's Department to report Diana's whereabouts. That's how it worked. And Janus knew it.

Experience had taught him citizens were his best allies. Citizens were vigilant when it came to maintaining Equality. Almost every citizen was a stoolie. Stoolies loved nothing better than to inform on other citizens who demonstrated superiority. And no one demonstrated superiority as much as Runners. Stoolies loathed Runners. Which was why Runners always had to worry. Who could they trust? Would someone turn them in? Would someone try to blackmail them?

Janus could smell bread now. He turned from the oak tree and saw fresh loaves of bread stacked on a table. It looked good. It smelled good. And he was hungry.

When he took a coin from his pocket he noticed something for the first time in his life. There was an engraved design on the back of the coin. He looked at it. Close. It was the national flag of Equal. Janus thought, Huh, has that always been there? He of course knew that it had. He'd just never noticed it before because he seldom used coins. No need to. Pretty much everything was provided by the government. Housing. Clothes. Food. The only time you really needed coins were when you wanted something from the black market.

Like the loaf of bread Janus now eyed.

He stepped up to the table, pressed the coin into the merchant's hand. The woman looked tired. Merchants often looked tired. Working at the black market wasn't their regular employment. Working for the government was. Every citizen was required to work a full-time job for the government. Some worked the day shift, some the night shift. The merchant woman, dark bags under her eyes, dropped the coin in a bucket and then handed a loaf of bread to Janus. When she smiled at him her upper lip rose away from her yellowed buck teeth. Janus thanked her and drifted away.

Wandering through the black market now, chewing on his loaf of bread, Janus sensed someone watching him. His Sheriff mind was telling him to keep his eyes open and alert.

He wouldn't be walking out in the open for much longer. He was getting close to the building where Diana resided. Her lodging.

Janus didn't expect to find her there. Runners never hid at home. What he expected, maybe he could find clues to her current whereabouts.

Eating the last of the bread now, smacking his lips, Janus spotted a Blacksmith at work. He stopped to watch the action. Heavy blows of the hammer striking the anvil. Sparks flying. Sweat dripping.

Janus had a new appreciation for Blacksmiths because they could make those coins with the impressive design on the back.

Blacksmithing was a government job. But Blacksmiths never set up shop near government buildings. They preferred to be near the black market. Where the action was.

Blacksmithing would be Janus's next job. You turn twenty-six, you become a Blacksmith. Everyone had to do it. Janus could see himself doing the job, standing there swinging that hammer, looking good in that black tunic. Still, he knew he'd miss his Sheriffing days.

Now Janus moved on, past more merchants, past more customers. Pretty soon he saw the building, the one where Diana resided. It was at the end of the block. Not far.

A bitter wind poured through the road, buffeting Janus this way and that, turning the short walk into a painful experience.

When he reached the building he took a look at its façade, a quick look. Red-brick exterior, square foundation, three stories. Just like all the other buildings in Equal. There were a couple of broken windows and lots of maintenance deficiencies. It was a dilapidated building. Again, just like all the other buildings in Equal. It was nothing special. It wasn't where someone who possessed three areas of superiority would choose to live if she had a choice in the matter. But no one ever had a choice in the matter. Lodgings were assigned by the government.

Standing in front of the building, Janus glanced back down the road. No more than a block away was the dividing line where the black market ended and the lodgings began. Citizens living in this neighborhood had easy access to the black market. How convenient. Janus lived an hour or so from the black market. How inconvenient.

As he surveyed the surroundings he thought, This is what Diana saw every single day. This was her world.

Janus stood in front of the building for about a minute, soaking up the atmosphere, getting a feel for the neighborhood.

Something brushed by his boot.

He looked down.

A gray rat stared up at him, black eyes, long wirelike whiskers. It blinked. Then it trotted off.

Janus opened the front door of the building and stepped inside. He stood here for a long moment, letting his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. The strong wind had extinguished the candles in the front hallway, and there were no windows to let in the sunlight.

Now he closed the door behind him, pushing it against the wind, hard. He shuddered and rubbed his arms. He struck a match. It flared in the darkness. He looked around the front hallway. Threadbare carpet. Leaky pipes. Soiled walls. There was the heavy smell of disinfectants. He walked over to the candles and lit them. Then he stood listening. The wind. Nothing else. Dead quiet.

He climbed the battered stairs, past broken plaster, and stopped for a moment on the second floor. He leaned over the rail of the stair landing, looking down at the front hallway, a bird's-eye view of its rotting condition.

He went up another set of stairs. The third floor. He stopped in the middle of the candlelit hall. Looked left. Looked right. Where was 333? He read a number on the nearest door. Then he turned right and went down the hall.

There it was. 333.

Should he press the doorbell? Doorbells almost never worked. You press the button, nothing happens. You complain about it, tell the government it's broken, nothing happens.

Should he knock? What for? Diana wouldn't be inside.

Janus decided to pick the lock. He was about to begin when he heard a door creak open behind him. He spun around to see an aged woman standing there in her gold tunic. She was staring at him, looking him up and down, curious.

"Afternoon, ma'am."

"What?"

"Good afternoon."

"If you say so."

Janus felt a draft of cool air coming through the open doorway. The old woman looked cold. She was hugging herself tight.

"There a problem, Sheriff?"

"You know Diana?"

"Never heard of her."

"Lives here. Across the hall."

"Never seen her."

That was hard to believe. You get assigned a lodging on your sixth birthday, and you live there the rest of your life. Until you're almost fifty. How could you not know your neighbor? Especially one who lived right across the hall from you. Hard to believe.

Now the woman asked Janus for his help. One of her windows was drafty. Could he fix it? Please? Her name was Fama. And would he care for a cup of hot tea? Please step inside, Sheriff. Come on.

He stepped inside. Closed the door behind him.

Right away he spotted the Equalizer in Fama's ear. He made a mental note of it. Then he introduced himself. He told her he'd see what he could do about the drafty window. Oh, and tea would be good. Thank you.

He watched as she padded off to the kitchen. She seemed to move pretty damn well for someone who was almost fifty. He knew she was almost fifty. From her face. And from her gold tunic. Janus kept watching her, amazed at the sensual way she moved. Then he said to himself, What's wrong with you? She's a Teacher, almost fifty, ancient.

Now he felt the cool air again. It was coming from the drafty window. He crossed the room to get a closer look.

When he got to the window he stooped and then angled his head. He said, "Hmmm," studying the problem. He stood up and ran his hand under an upper portion of the window.

Fama was making noise out in the kitchen. It sounded like water being poured into a tea kettle.

Janus called out, "You got any cardboard?"

Fama said she did. She went away and came back in no time with some cardboard. Janus began to wedge torn pieces of cardboard into the window. Fama brought him a cup of hot tea. Janus would sip it as he worked on the window. Fama talked to him the whole time, saying how grateful she was for his help, what a good citizen he was. Not five minutes passed before he finished the job and thanked her for the tea and headed out the door.

He was trying to pick the lock to 333 again when the door behind him creaked opened again. He stopped what he was doing and cursed under his breath and turned to face Fama. Managing a smile, he said, "Yes?"

Fama hesitated. "Above the door frame," she said. "That's where she keeps her key."

"You know Diana."

"Yes."

"You lied to me."

"Yes."

Janus frowned.

They were quiet for a time, staring at each other.

"Why'd you lie?"

Fama hesitated again. She said, "To protect Diana." She said, "Diana's a good person. Always nice to me. Like you just were." She said, "I saw you trying to enter her lodging, and I didn't know what to do." She shrugged, palms up.

"Do you know where Diana is now?"

"No."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

"No."

That was honest. Janus had to wonder why this woman was trying to protect Diana. Just because Diana was nice to her? Come on, really? Citizens hated Runners. Hated them because they were superior. Something strange was going on here.

Fama was saying, "Truth is, I hope you never find Diana."

Janus didn't know what to say to that. And he wasn't sure what to think. He opened his mouth and closed it. Then he shook his head.

Now Fama invited him back inside. He decided to go along, see what she had to say. They sat down on a worn-out couch. It looked old. It felt old. The cushions were bumpy and prickly. Janus was frowning, shifting around, trying to get comfortable. Fama was sitting beside him, her legs curled up under her, one hand holding onto a bare foot.

She touched his arm. "You helped me," she said. "You fixed my window. I think you have a warm heart."

Janus wondered where this was going. He kept listening.

"Diana has a warm heart too. You have that in common with her. A warm heart."

There were a few moments of silence.

Fama said, "You're here to capture her?"

Janus nodded. "I am."

"Because she's a Runner?"

"Because she's a Runner."

"Capturing her won't be easy."

"Give it my best shot."

There was another silence.

"Since you helped me," Fama said, smiling, "I'll tell you a little bit about Diana."

Janus nodded again.

"Diana is magical. An enchanting woman. Never met anyone like her before. Sure, she developed three areas of superiority. But it just happened. She never asked for it. All that hassle of being beautiful and smart and physically fit. Always having to get her Equalizer adjusted to accommodate unpredictable development spurts. Every citizen resenting her for her abilities and accomplishments and competence, every citizen viewing her strengths as forms of inequality, inequality in a world where trying matters more than succeeding."

That got Janus's attention. The words resonated with a truth and force he could relate to. Now he felt something jolt in his gut, something ancient and true, something he didn't fully understand.

". . . the burden?" Fama had said something.

Janus looked at her. "What?"

"I was saying, can you imagine the burden?"

"Tell me more."

She told him more. She told him Diana was always apologizing for her strengths, always trying to suppress her unfair advantage, always making herself uncompetitive. She told him Diana never fit in, was never part of the group, was never anything but an outsider. She told him Diana never thought she was better than anyone else, never treated people like that, never.

Janus was nodding as he listened, taking it all in, sitting up straight in the couch.

Fama was telling him she meant what she'd said about hoping he never found Diana. Fama was telling him it was possible for Runners to escape. Escape to where? A legendary place called Haven. Runners could live out the rest of their days in freedom there. Or so the legend goes.

When Fama was done speaking Janus got up from the couch and clasped his hands behind his back and stepped to the window and stood gazing out. He sighed, frustrated. After a few moments he turned away from the window and crossed the room and said to Fama, "Thanks for your help," on his way out the door.

Reaching for the key above the door frame of 333, Janus was thinking, Could a place such as Haven actually exist? Could Haven be . . .

Got it, the key.

He tried it in the door lock. It fit. He entered and closed the door behind him. The room was dark. He kept both his sword and his knife sheathed. There was no danger here. Except of tripping in the dark.

He made his way, careful, through the cluttered room. When he found the window he pulled back the thick curtain. Harsh sunlight. He squinted and blinked and held up his hands to shield his eyes. All of a sudden he tripped on something and fell to the floor and cursed his luck. Damn this, damn that, dammit.

Then came the strangest thing, the oddest thing, the most inexplicable and puzzling sensation. On the edge of his awareness, behind the anger, there was another feeling. A lighthearted feeling. One that made Janus laugh. He laughed to himself. Then he laughed at himself for laughing. It felt good. Strange, but good.

Now he lay on his back, looking for clues on the ceiling, thinking, Well, it's a place to start. Thinking, How come the world's so damn serious all the time? Thinking, That Fama woman could change the way you look at the world.

Now Janus raised up on his elbow to look at the room. Paintings everywhere. Colorful paintings. Maybe a hundred or more. Paintings of all kinds of things. Flowers, people, buildings. They weren't like the paintings Janus was used to seeing. These paintings were _good_. You could actually tell what the subjects were.

He got to his feet and started sleuthing, looking for clues that could lead him to Diana. He saw paints and brushes and easels. He saw a variety of plants. But it was what he didn't see that got him thinking. There were no mirrors. You'd think someone as beautiful as Diana would have at least one mirror in her lodging. But she didn't. How come? Janus made a mental note. Maybe it was a clue. Maybe it wasn't. He kept looking.

There was a jug of red wine on the floor. He picked it up and took a sip. Good stuff, he thought, wiping his mouth on the back of his free hand.

He carried the jug as he crossed the room. Now he saw something. He stopped. He dropped the jug. Red wine spattering across the floor. He stood staring at the painting. It was a painting of a Sheriff with a scar on his chin. Janus was staring at his own image.

He ran out of the room and out the front door. He pounded on the door across the hall.

There was no answer.

### CHAPTER 4

THE RUNNER WAS cornered. Trapped. No place to go.

Sheriff Orcus grinned as he watched shadows sliding across shadows. What was amusing, the Runner was like a trapped rat trying to outmaneuver the cat. Runners were always like that. Always believing they could evade tooth and claw.

Orcus began to prowl toward the darkened building with his sword in his hand. He was whistling as he went. He was thinking the most enjoyable part, always, was this moment. Right now. The moment when his wild-eyed quarry, desperate and hopeful, went scratching through the midnight streets. Through the streets and the grime and the ever-present smell of piss and the rotted dinginess of crumbling ruins. They were always like rats scurrying through dilapidated mazes that led to rat-traps.

Now Orcus edged along the building, moving toward a recessed doorway. He paused, frowning, straining to hear. Nothing. Then he saw a flicker of shadows, a blur of motion, a silhouetted figure on the move. Damn. Look at the guy go. Moving faster than any Runner ever. Orcus grinned again. He could have some fun with this guy. Play with his mind.

Orcus crept forward, slipping his sword back into its sheath and then bringing out his knife, the blade winking in the moonlight.

He said to himself, You did it again. Cornered another Runner. And soon you can add another notch to your capture record. Your _perfect_ capture record.

He wondered how Janus was doing with his new assignment. Maybe Diana would be the one to finally break Janus's perfect capture record. Man, wouldn't that be great? To be the only Sheriff in the department with a perfect capture record. Yeah, that'd be something. Run, Diana, run.

Orcus was proud to be a Sheriff because Sheriffs enforced society's most sacred law—the law that every citizen must be Equal. Equal in every possible way. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. This law represented the will of the people. The citizens of Equal craved Equality above all else. And their government gave it to them. Sheriffs were part of that.

Now Orcus puffed out his chest, smoothed down the front of his blue tunic, and stepped into the doorway. He waited as his eyes adjusted to the diminished light, shapes beginning to emerge, coming into view.

He thought, Equality provides harmony and social stability. Citizens like to see other citizens that are just like them. Gives them a sense of belonging. But not all citizens are the same. Runners are different. They think they're better than everyone else. With their puffed-up sense of superiority, their wonderful specialness, they look down on the rest of the citizens.

Gritting his teeth now, Orcus was about to ease farther into the moon-dappled hallway when he heard the faint sound of chanting. What he did, he slid around a corner and crouched, waiting. No sense continuing the chase till the chanting stopped. The chanting masked other sounds. Sounds made by the Runner. His footsteps. His breathing. His clothes. Orcus relied on these sounds. He needed them to pinpoint the location of quarry hiding in the darkness.

The wait wouldn't be long. The chanting never lasted more than a minute. It came twice daily. At noon and at midnight. Noon for the day shift. Midnight for the night shift. Workers on their lunch break would recite mandatory chants. Then, after that, the calisthenics would begin. Also mandatory. Ten minutes for each worker. Lunch would come after chants and calisthenics. Lunches were provided by the government. The food came in premeasured portions. Orcus believed this made life easier because you never had to worry about counting calories. It was a good thing, the government regulating your nutrition.

Now Orcus could hear them chanting, "We are one." It was his favorite chant. Ever since he was a young boy. Now his lips formed the words as he listened to the phrase repeated over and over again. "We are one . . . We are one . . . We are one."

The chanting stopped. The silence returned. And Orcus froze, his head cocked, straining to listen . . .

There was a faint rustling of clothes in the darkness.

Orcus scanned the hallway. Everything was silvered with moonlight, dappled with shadow. He spied movement. Subtle. Looked like a tunic. White. He waited with the intensity of a predatory cat studying its prey.

The hallway grew darker now. Orcus figured the moon was retreating behind a dark cloud. He could see something in the dim light. Not sure what. But something . . .

It was the Runner, had to be, hiding in the shadows.

Orcus thought, Look at this guy trying to hide. This Physician in his white tunic. Wearing white at night? Not a good idea. Not if you want to hide. Dumb-ass Physician.

Orcus never liked Physicians. They always looked at you like they knew something you didn't. One time, when Orcus was a young boy, he got injured. So he went to see a Physician. She stood in the examination room, frowning down at him, shaking her head. As if to say, Hey, dumb-ass, you should know better than to play in the woods. Then she threw big words at him, making him feel stupid, like some kind of moron.

The reason Orcus used to play in the woods? To kill small animals. Birds. Squirrels. Chipmunks. Killing them and burying them. Sometimes torturing them by spiking their food with razor-sharp shards of glass. Watching the little animals chew, Orcus used to imagine he was inside their tummies, stabbing their intestines. It was something to do. Pass the time.

Then, as Orcus grew older, he graduated to crimes against people. Arson. Robbery. Rape. He was always increasing the intensity of his crimes, seeing if he could away with it, a young man testing the system. He was a young man who couldn't wait to become a Sheriff at the age of twenty-one so he could get paid to outfox the other lawbreakers.

What had gotten Orcus started on this path, he'd felt a need to work out his anxiety, having suffered much mental anguish during his formative years. Other kids used to tease him for being a slow learner.

Orcus was never issued an Equalizer for his learning disability because he never qualified for one. Year after year his area of inferiority fell inside the narrow range of acceptable differences. Always by the tiniest of margins. So his inequality was never leveled, and he grew up experiencing the greatest degree of inequality that was acceptable to society.

At the age of fifteen Orcus was introduced to the game of chess, and it forever changed his life. He became infatuated with the game. Playing it all the time. Mastering strategies, learning clever maneuvers, thinking outside the box. These were the very skills you needed to become a great Sheriff, so he developed them by playing chess at every opportunity.

One of the things Orcus liked best about chess, there were no winners or losers. Every game ended in a tie. No one's feelings got hurt.

Orcus was a big believer that it was better to work together than to compete against one another. There was nothing fair about competition because not everyone was good at chess. Or sports. Or art. Competition was unhealthy. Collaboration was better. It rewarded you for trying, giving your best effort, regardless of the results.

Now Orcus scanned the dark hallway again. A plan was coming into focus. What he could do, move toward the back of the building, sneak up behind the Runner. Should work.

Orcus knew the layout of the building. It had three stories, a square foundation, and a red-brick exterior. It was the same layout as every other building in the country of Equal. All buildings were identical to each other in height and width and length. They were all Equal. No citizen lived or worked in a building that was superior or inferior to any other building.

The night air was chilly and still. Orcus could hear his own breathing. Could see the white puffs of exhaled breath emerging from his lips.

Inch by inch, foot by foot, he stepped through the familiar hallways, quiet as a cat, making his way toward the back of the building.

When a creak sounded underfoot he pressed his back against the wall and stood froze. Did the Runner hear that? There was no way to know.

Orcus moved on, edging along the wall, slow. He sensed he was within striking distance of his prey. Only feet away.

Peering around a corner now, he spotted the white tunic trying to hide in the blackness of the night. Dumb-ass Physician.

Orcus began to whistle again, a familiar tune, the state anthem. Whistling it as he sauntered up behind the Runner.

All of a sudden the Runner whipped his head around and glared this way with a gleam of terror in his eyes. He seemed to be suspended in a moment of disbelief, a surreal nightmare, a hypnotic trance. As if everything were in slooow motion.

Now he leapt, bounding away, then running, his pace accelerating, faster, faster, Orcus hot on his heels, the hunt was on, the two of them racing past blurred doorways, boots hammering the floor, arms pumping at a furious pace.

Outside the front door now. Two racing figures on the moonlit streets.

Then Orcus was on him.

Orcus throwing the guy to the pavement with such force he bounced on his side and landed on his back. Orcus straddling him now, sitting on his chest, grinning down at him, bringing the gleaming knife to the rat's face, putting the tip of the blade in his nose, having some fun with him, scaring him a little.

So easy.

Runner trembling, begging for his life, surrendering.

Oh, is that right? You surrender, huh?

Guy must have seen the look in Orcus's eyes, that hardened glare, the one with an edge of menace. Yeah, he saw it. You could tell because he was saying, Oh, please, please, you can capture me and bring me in without all the violence.

Listen to this guy trying to tell the Sheriff how to do his job. What an arrogant Physician. Who does he think he is?

Orcus flashed back to his childhood, remembering that Physician treating him like a moron . . .

Coming out of his reverie now, Orcus was moving the tip of his tongue back and forth on his lower lip, staring down at his catch. He began to trace the outline of the guy's mouth with the tip of the blade. Eyes looking up at him, pleading for mercy. Orcus thinking, Who's the moron now, uh?

He brought the blade away from the Physician's face. Then he winked at him and said, "Had you worried, huh?" Orcus smiling now, mocking, enjoying the moment.

The Physician, lying there on his back, stared up. Smile of relief beginning to form. Hope in his eyes.

Just then Orcus grinned. He moved his eyebrows up and down twice. He gripped the knife with both hands and raised it up and brought it down into the heart. Again and again.

After, Orcus wiped the blade clean, blood smearing on the dead guy's white tunic. Then he slipped the knife into its sheath and grunted to his feet.

Standing here, his hair matted with drying sweat, Orcus inspected his handiwork. Man, look at that. Nice.

Now he raised his boot over the dead guy's face. He stomped down hard. Again and again. Crushing the face.

Then he walked away. Whistling.

### CHAPTER 5

SHERIFF JANUS GESTURED to the bartender. The man nodded and brought him another glass of vodka. It was Janus's third drink.

He was thinking about the painting, the one that looked just like him, an amazing resemblance. How was Diana able to paint it? Had she seen him somewhere? Must have. How else could she have known what he looked like?

Janus frowning now. Thinking about it. Sipping his vodka.

Where could she have seen him? At the black market? At work? Could have been anywhere. The real question was, how come she painted that picture? To mock him? Janus couldn't figure it out.

Now he sipped his vodka, staring at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, a man coming to the realization that his perfect capture record was at risk. Janus knew Diana was a different kind of Runner. She was clever and bold. There were only two days left to capture her. And Janus was running out of ideas.

Now he raised his glass to the reflection in the mirror. Frowning, he said, "Here's to you, the best Sheriff ever," knowing the words were empty. He took a mouthful of the vodka and tipped his head back and closed his eyes as the warmth slid down his throat.

When he opened his eyes he saw the bartender looking at him. Janus gave the man a nod—the universal signal for ordering another drink. Then he took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at the other customers. Who knew the black market bar would be like this? The place was packed.

Drinking was something Janus usually preferred to do alone. It led to less trouble. But it was good to finally see what the black market bar was like.

As his eyes scanned the scene he wondered if Diana was here. Maybe spying on him again. He studied each face. He didn't see her. He didn't see anyone he knew. Except for the man in the mirror.

Now Janus watched as a young woman got up from a table and came up to him, giving him a seductive look, Janus appreciating the way her eyes were half-closed. She sat down on the stool next to his. She crossed her legs. She said, "Hey." One simple word. But the way she said it? Janus just knew she was a prostitute. So when she asked him his name he said, "Beat it."

"What'd you say?"

"You heard me."

Her eyes weren't half-closed anymore. Now they were wide open, staring right at him. "You're an ass."

"That'd be me."

Something occurred to Janus after the prostitute left. It was something he remembered reading in Diana's file. What he remembered, Diana used to be a Cook. Janus thought it might not be a bad idea to check it out, her last place of employment, see what her coworkers had to say. It might provide clues as to her current whereabouts.

Now another idea came to him, something else he could investigate. Diana's art supplies. She'd bought them from someone. But who? It'd have to be someone she knew pretty well.

More leads. More clues. Janus was on a roll.

He drank his fourth glass of vodka. He yawned and stretched. It was late. It was time for him to get back home. He needed to get a good night's sleep so he could wake up refreshed and ready to work his plan.

He was about to slide off the stool when he spotted the prostitute again. She was with another man, dancing slow and grinding her hips, teasing her potential john. The man was drunk and loud. His speech was slurring. He was slushing his _s_ 's, saying _wasss_ instead of _what's_.

Janus kept watching the man and the prostitute. He wondered why anyone would have to pay for sex in this day and age. Sex was easy to come by now. Not like it used to be. Sex used to be complicated before the founding of Equal. You could get a woman pregnant, she could give birth to your child, and you both could raise it together. But Scientists had changed all that. Now pregnancy was impossible, so sex was uncomplicated, easy to come by.

Now Janus slid off the stool. He wobbled and then steadied, his hand going to the stool. The room was spinning round and round. Everything was a blur. He staggered a little, weaving, as he walked out of the black market bar and into the night.

* * *

WHISTLING. SHERIFF JANUS was sure he'd heard it. He cocked his head now and stood listening. Nothing. Dead quiet. He looked at his horse, dark in the dead of night, rolling white eyes staring back at him. The animal's ears were moving, pointing in different directions. It confirmed Janus's suspicion, so he kept listening. About a minute later he heard the whistling again. Who'd be awake now, in the middle of the night, whistling?

Janus stood still, quiet for a moment, deciding what to do. He gripped the bridle and led the horse into the stable. He left the stable and headed down the slope toward the creek behind the back of the building. When he got to the creek he bent and scooped a handful of frigid water at his face. He gasped against the cold. He knew he shouldn't have had that fourth glass of vodka at the black market bar.

Now he moved through the woods to a rise of ground above the creek. From here he could see all the windows running the length of the building. His eyes were drawn to the third floor. His floor. The one where his lodging was located. He saw the flickering light of candles coming from one of the windows . . .

Wait a minute.

Was that his window? He counted the windows across the third floor. One, two, three. Yep, it was his window all right. Candles were burning in his lodging. Had he left candles burning? Nope, he was always careful about that. Then, what? A burglar? It'd have to be a burglar stupid enough to steal from a Sheriff—a qualification that wouldn't necessarily narrow the field of suspects.

Now Janus made his way through the woods toward the building. When he reached it he drew his sword. He took a moment to curse himself for getting too drunk. He thought, It's okay for a drunkard to draw his sword so long as he's cautious not to cut off his own head.

Janus moved along the wall of the building till he got to the corner. Peering around the edge, he surveyed the front of the building. No accomplices in sight. Good. He headed toward the front door, his hand sliding along the brick wall, adding support to unsteady legs.

Inside the building he moved faster. Up the stairs, across the landing, up more stairs. He paused on the third floor to catch his breath. Then he crouched low and looked down the length of the hall. He could see a sliver of light showing beneath his door.

He was about to go down the hall when the door creaked open and light spilled out into the hall. Janus froze. The open door no more than ten feet away. Was someone about to leave?

After waiting a few moments Janus finally decided it was time to make his move. It was now or never. He could do this one of two ways. One, he could do it slow and quiet. Or, two, he could do it fast and loud. Neither option offered the element of surprise, so Janus chose a third option. He decided to put a ladder up to the window, sneak in from behind, surprise the intruder.

Now Janus started back down the stairs. He was about to slip out the front door when he heard a woman's voice calling from upstairs. The voice saying, "What are you afraid of?"

Afraid?

Janus started back up the stairs. His bootsteps, heavy on the stairs, ascended like the hoofs of a Clydesdale. All pretense of stealth had vanished.

When he got to the third floor he recognized the woman right away. It was Diana. She was standing in the open doorway, her face glowing in the flickering candlelight, a spark of amusement dancing in her eyes. Her tunic was sparkling like bits of colored glass shifting in a kaleidoscope. It was unlike any tunic Janus had ever seen. Diana was unlike any woman he'd ever seen.

He stood staring at her, unable to pull his eyes away, seeing now why her Equalizer had been rendered powerless against her stunning beauty. All the Equalizers in the world could never cloak such beauty.

There was something about the way she was looking at him, something he could feel deep down inside, something that felt like an intense rush of warmth.

She said something now. She told him to come inside. She waved him to come inside, never taking her eyes from him, smiling eyes that were filled with life.

It took Janus a moment to react. When he finally came back to reality he put his sword back in its sheath. It took him two tries.

Now he started toward Diana. His eyes followed her as she drifted back inside. He was wondering how to handle this situation. Should he apprehend her right away? Or should he wait to see what she had to say? He still hadn't made up his mind when he crossed the threshold.

Inside the room he watched her sit at the round table and cross her legs. He went to the table and pulled a chair around and put his foot up on it and rested his forearms on his knee and looked at her. He raised his eyebrows and waited. It was her move.

Diana smiled at him. She said, "You any good with that?" nodding to his sheathed sword.

Janus didn't say anything. Just shrugged.

"Bet you are," she said. "When you're sober."

"You think?"

"I do."

"You sure seem to know a lot about me."

Diana reached into her pocket. Right away Janus began to pull out his knife. He stopped as soon as she held up her free hand. She produced from her pocket a wanted poster that bore her image. It was the same one Janus had pinned to the oak tree at the black market.

Holding the wanted poster up now, Diana said, "And you sure seem to know a lot about me."

Janus had to smile at that. He liked the way she handled herself. She was smooth.

He sat down, straddling the chair backward, resting his forearms on the back. "Those other Sheriffs," he said. "The ones who ran out of time before capturing you? You do the same thing to them? Follow them around town. Paint pictures of 'em. Show up at their lodging."

Diana was shaking her head. "They weren't like you."

Janus rubbed his hand over his mouth and looked away. After a few moments his eyes came back to her. "And what am I like?"

"You have a warm heart," she said, touching his arm.

"So I've been told."

"By Fama?"

Janus pictured Fama with her gold tunic and aged face and incredible body. "Fama told you about my visit?"

Diana patted his hand. "I _am_ Fama."

Frowning, Janus thought, What? You _are_ Fama?

After a moment he said, "What?"

"I _am_ Fama. Well, I was. It was a disguise. A mask. Made out of rubber. And painted gray. I am an artist, after all."

Janus couldn't believe it. A disguise. A mask. He felt a little embarrassed now. As he rubbed the back of his neck he thought about how Diana had played him for a fool. He should have known better.

After clearing his throat he said, "And the tunic? The gold tunic?"

Diana smiled at him. "Got it years ago. Back when I was working as a Clothier. I ran across it at work one day and thought, Hmmm, that might come in handy. And sure enough it did."

Never would it have occurred to Janus that Fama had really been Diana in disguise. Now he understood his attraction to Fama. The woman _had_ been a little too sensual for someone who was supposed to be almost fifty.

Now Janus smiled at Diana. He said to her in a low voice, "When you were disguised as Fama you sure had some terrific things to say about yourself."

Diana laughed. "Shameless, I know."

You're not kidding, Janus thought. He remembered Fama bragging on Diana, telling him that Diana was a magical and enchanting woman, that Diana never thought she was better than anyone else. Now Janus pictured his conversation with Fama, seeing it in his mind's eye. It reminded him of something.

All of a sudden he snapped his fingers. Said to Diana, "You were wearing an Equalizer when you were disguised as Fama."

"Part of my disguise."

"How'd the electronic signals change your appearance?"

"They didn't."

"Oh."

When Diana said, "The Equalizer was deactivated," Janus raised his eyebrows and said, "You know how to do that, deactivate an Equalizer?"

"Sure. Used to do it all the time. Growing up, you know?"

Janus was impressed.

He thought, She knows how to manipulate an Equalizer.

That thought led to another.

He thought, She knows how to manipulate _you_.

That thought made him angry. He resented having been played for a fool.

His next thought, Okay, you listened to what she had to say. Now it's time for you to do your job. You need to capture the Runner, bring her in, and let justice take its course.

Diana spoke before Janus could do anything. "Are you happy?"

Was he happy? Meaning what?

He asked her.

And she said, "Your life. The way it is. Are you happy?"

Janus frowned. Thought about it. Thought about his life. The way it was. Happy? He'd never thought about it before. He'd never had to because happiness was axiomatic. Equality was happiness . . . and everyone was Equal . . . so everyone was happy. Simple logic.

"Of course I'm happy," he said. "Everyone's happy."

The way Diana was looking at him made him wonder if he was slurring his words. He felt sober. It didn't seem like he was slurring his words.

"Janus," she said. "You only _think_ you're happy. Truth is, you're not." She said, "See, all your life—and mine too—we've been conditioned by society. Conditioned to love Equality. To associate it with happiness."

Janus was listening to her voice in the way you might listen to gentle rain. He was watching her lips as they formed the words. He was mesmerized by those lips, those curved lips, soft and full. Now those lips spoke again.

"What do the citizens of Equal value above everything else?"

Now those lips stopped speaking. Janus came out of his trance. It took him a moment to register her question. He repeated it aloud. "What do the citizens of Equal value above everything else?" Then he answered it. "Equality."

"And how about you, Janus? What do you value above everything else?"

Janus took his time. He said, "Equality."

Diana nodded. She seemed calm, showing no concern about being a Runner, no concern about being near a Sheriff. Even though her life was in jeopardy.

Janus spoke again before Diana could say anything. "And you?" he said. "What do you value above everything else?"

His question was rewarded with a smile that showed white teeth against the gray of her skin. Even her eyes were smiling at him. He looked into those eyes. Eyes so stunning they seemed of another world. Eyes in which the flickering candlelight was dancing.

"Freedom," Diana said. "That's what I value most."

"And what about Equality?" Janus said.

"Equality is the opposite of freedom. You can't have both."

He gave her a blank look.

She leaned closer. She said in her nice tone of voice, "Do you want to spend your life being like everyone else, having nothing to distinguish you from your neighbor, or from your neighbor's neighbor?" She said, "Because that's what Equality means. It means existing as the image of everyone else, sharing the same inescapable social destiny, relinquishing the freedom to be an individual." She said, "Freedom or Equality. Only one can make you happy. For me it's freedom."

Janus found it ironic that a woman who valued her freedom above all else was about to lose all of it. It reminded him he had a job to do. He said to himself, You have a perfect capture record to maintain. Do your job. Do it now. Stop putting it off. Capture the Runner, bring her in, and let justice take its course.

Now he stood up out of the chair and took a rope from his pocket and told Diana to turn around with her hands behind her back. She stared at him. When he took hold of her arm she wrenched free and fell to the ground. He glared down at her. She was sitting on her heels, trying to smile up at him, but then her face twisted and broke. She buried her eyes in the crook of her arm and sobbed.

Janus didn't know what to do. He stood watching her. She was sniffling, hugging herself tight, rocking back and forth. Was she playing him for a fool again? More mind games? Janus had no idea.

What he did, he stooped, putting his hand on her shoulder. "There, there," he said, patting her.

She blew her nose on her tunic.

Janus felt like a heel. But what else could he do? He was just doing his job. Sheriffs captured Runners. That's how it worked.

Diana, wiping away her tears, looked up at him. She gave him a sad little smile. "I know you have to bring me in," she said. "The last thing I want is to make it difficult for you. The reason I came here tonight is because I can't do it anymore. My days of being a Runner are over." Blowing her nose. "The reason I came here tonight . . . I wanted to—no, I needed to—explain myself before I die. I needed to explain my thoughts about the world we live in. Explain them to you. So that they can survive after I'm gone. Survive inside you. It's like part of me will survive too." Sniffling now.

Janus took Diana by the hand and helped her to her feet. He sat down in his chair, pointed to hers, and said, "Have a seat."

When she sat down he told her he was all ears. He told her he wanted to hear her thoughts about the world we live in. Then he sat listening.

She told him the world had become a gloomy dwelling where people now lived as soulless automatons. She told him the joy of living had been taken from people. No longer could they experience the thrill of risk. Now people lived without challenges. Without growth. Without accomplishment. Without the meaningful struggle of confronting and mastering obstacles. Life was too easy now. And so people were complacent and unthinking and dependent. Like automatons. Diana told Janus the world had changed. And for what? So that people could live as Equals? So that no one was better than anyone else? So that no one ever felt inferior? Or jealous? Or resentful? Diana told Janus there used to be a time when you came into this world with a gift, something that made you special, different. People used to share their unique gifts with the world so that everyone could benefit from them. Intellectuals used to solve problems. Athletes used to provide inspiration. Models used to bestow beauty. But those days were over now because society had decided that everyone's gifts should stay wrapped up.

Now Janus looked down at the table and began to run his forefinger along the wood grain. He was looking without seeing, lost in thought, searching inside himself. He felt something missing, something primal and deep. He wondered if maybe Diana was right. Maybe he wasn't happy . . .

"Janus? Are you listening to me?"

"What?" He looked up. Diana was staring at him.

"Did you hear what I was saying?"

He nodded. "Every word."

"And?"

"And I'm interested to hear how you developed your thoughts about the world we live in."

So Diana told him a story. A story about growing up. What her childhood was like.

Janus listened to her story . . .

* * *

DIANA COULD SEE out of the corner of her eye the other Students approaching, a sea of red tunics, Invidia leading the pack.

Invidia was trouble. Especially when she was in one of her envious moods. That was when things could get dangerous. Which they often did.

Diana was eating her lunch alone. She always ate alone. She never wanted it that way. That was just the way it was. No one sat by her. Ever.

Now she could hear Invidia telling the others, "They adjusted Diana's Equalizer again. Fourth time this month. Endless spurts of intelligence." Invidia rolled her eyes.

They all laughed.

The group of Students formed a circle around Diana's lunch table. Invidia grinned down at Diana, saying, "Oh, look. It's Little Girl Genius."

More laughter.

Diana was rolling a coin around her fingers. She'd always do that. She'd eat her lunch with one hand while rolling a coin with the other. It was a little trick she'd picked up hanging around the black market.

"Hey," Invidia said. "You found my coin."

Ignore her. Maybe she'll go away.

"And I want it back."

Leave me alone. For once. Can you just do that?

All of a sudden Invidia moved toward Diana. When they were face-to-face, a distance of maybe one foot between them, Invidia whispered, "I said I want it back." Her eyes were flaming. Her jaw was thrust forward. Her breath smelled of onions.

Diana gripped the coin in her fist and raised her eyebrows at Invidia and whispered, "What do you think the chances are I'm going to take you seriously?"

What Invidia did was smirk. She said to the crowd, "Snotface thinks she's better than us," and to Diana, "Don't you, Snotface?"

Now the others began to say, "Snotface Snotface Snotface," almost singing it, but stopped when Diana shrugged and said, "Sorry you feel that way."

"We know you're sorry," Invidia said. "A sorry sucker. Hyuk, hyuk."

Giggles from the crowd.

Diana began to get up from her seat. Invidia shoved her back down. Then someone shove Diana from behind.

Roars of laughter.

Diana said to Invidia, "The coin isn't yours to take."

"Who's taking it?" Invidia said. "You're giving it. Think of it that way. Then you can feel good about yourself."

Diana rolled the coin around her fingers and palmed it in her fist and blew on it. After mumbling some magical words she opened her hand. The coin was gone. It was another little trick she'd picked up hanging around the black market.

Invidia's eyes were wild, and her jaw muscles were pulsing. She was rocking back and forth, from one foot to the other, as she stared down at Diana. She whispered to Diana, moving her lips real slow, "You're nothing. Hear me? Nothing." She whispered, "You and I will meet again. Soon."

"Swell," Diana said. "I was worried our friendship wouldn't last."

Diana watched as they all left. Then she got up from the lunch table and walked out of the room and found a private place down the hall and cried.

A little later that day, when Diana was walking back to her lodging near the black market, she thought about school. She wished she never had to go back there again. They resented her there. And she was beginning to resent herself.

She didn't want to be different. She wanted to be like the others. She wanted to fit in. Then they wouldn't hate her, and she wouldn't feel so lonely all the time. But Diana knew deep in her heart that things would never change.

Now she cried again.

* * *

WHEN DIANA FINISHED telling her story Sheriff Janus blinked and looked away. His eyes were swimming with sorrow. But Diana wouldn't let him hide from her. She reached up with both hands and cupped his face. Janus stared into her eyes, so close to his. He was lost in those eyes. Lost like stars in day. No one had ever made him feel this way. This alive.

Now her fingers caressed his cheeks and wiped away the tears. Janus was in the moment, not wanting it to end but knowing that it must. He tried to block the conflicting thoughts from his mind—thoughts of his job, his duty, his perfect capture record—but they wouldn't go away. These were the things he lived for, the things that mattered most, the very things that now required him to deliver this amazing woman to her death.

Now Diana rose from the chair and went into the kitchen and brought back a glass. "Drink some water," she said, handing Janus the glass.

He took it and swallowed some water. It was cold. He wiped his lips with two fingers. He thanked her.

She sat down again, took his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. "Your gift," she said. "You know what it is, Janus?"

He thought it was Sheriffing. He was pretty sure of it. There was nothing else he was good at.

She tapped him on his chest. "Your heart. You have a kind heart. Look inside yourself, and you'll see it's true. You have something special, Janus. Yes, you really do."

Her words filled him with something. They touched a part of him that nothing had touched before. Ever. Her words meant more to him than he could have ever imagined.

In this moment, with their eyes locked, something magical was taking place. Janus was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was . . . he was . . . he . . .

Something was wrong. Janus could feel it. He tried to say something, but his words came out in a garbled spew. Now his field of vision filled with a blurred sense of reality. Now everything in sight tilted. Now his cheek slammed against the floor.

Pain. Searing. Screaming.

The room was askew. Ceiling to the left, floor to the right, walls above and below.

There came echoes of distorted sounds. Echoing. Echoing.

Janus watched a candle swell to enormous proportions and then blur as it narrowed, narrowed, narrowed. He watched the candle flames lick orange and yellow against black shadows. He watched black clouds come out of the wick and spin round and round.

This was impossible. Couldn't be happening. But Janus's senses were telling him otherwise.

He tried to raise up and look around. He couldn't move.

He shuddered when a drop of cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Then he descended further into twisted reality. His mind's eye saw a grotesque dog pounce in from the window and bound this way and sit very close and talk very fast.

Janus was going out of his mind. What should he do? Think, think. He needed to clear the mists. He needed to find his sanity. Think, think. Could it have been the vodka? Not a chance. Vodka doesn't make you hallucinate. Think, think. Nothing was coming to him. Nothing at all.

Then he saw it.

The glass.

The glass of water Diana had given him to drink. It was on the floor now. Near his foot. He wanted to pick it up. He tried. He couldn't move.

Now Janus spotted something inside the glass. Some kind of powdery residue. A drug? Was he drugged? By Diana? Impossible.

Or was it?

Janus stared at the glass, wondering, wondering. He was trying to wrap his mind around the possibility. His soul was lurching into a place of nightmare, the kind of creeping nightmare that made for hammering hearts and cold sweats.

Janus heard a voice now. The voice saying to him, "Tuzzzz meee." It sounded like human language. Janus wasn't sure.

The voice spoke again. This time it was clear enough for Janus to understand. The voice saying to him, "Truzzzt me."

Trust me?

Is that what the voice was saying?

Now Janus saw a woman's foot. Diana? Now the foot vanished.

Janus lay alone on the floor, blinking, his world going dark. Blackness took him.

### CHAPTER 6

MORNING. SHERIFF JANUS awoke, blinking several times before the room came into focus, the light stinging his eyes. His face felt puffy. His mouth was dry. His odor offended.

He scanned the room. Window curtains open. Candles extinguished. One chair on its side.

He tried to move. Realized that he could move. When he raised up on his elbow he saw the blanket covering his body. He figured Diana must have put it there. He put his hand to his head. The throbbing headache was relentless.

He stood up. Went to the kitchen. Made some tea. Sipped his tea. Went to the window. Stood at the window. It was webbed with frost. Snow had fallen overnight.

He stood looking out the window, holding the cup of tea in both hands, gazing at the frozen creek running along the back of the building. His mind was on Diana. There was a lot to think about. He stood at the window for a long time.

Now he put his cup of tea on the windowsill and crossed the room and set the chair upright and picked up the glass. He held the glass up to the light and examined it. He used his forefinger to scrape out some of the powdery residue. He smelled it. Rubbed it between his fingers. He knew better than to taste it. He scraped out more and put it in a piece of cloth. Then he folded the cloth and stuck it in his pocket and set the glass on the table and went back to the window.

He stood watching the snow fall. White. Soundless. It looked a few inches deep. There were no tracks in the snow. He stood at the window and sipped his tea and drifted into thought. He realized there were only two more days left. He had to capture Diana within the next two days. If he didn't? The assignment would be given to another Sheriff, and Janus's capture record would no longer be perfect.

He frowned as his eyes stared at misty images from last night. Images that haunted him. When the disturbing images finally faded away he shook his head and sighed. Then he shrugged the feeling away.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling. His heart was filled with a mixture of emotions. Anger, of course. He was angry Diana had played him for a fool. What a fool. Two cards in every deck carried his image. He felt frustration too. What frustrated him, Diana had slipped from his grasp.

But there was something else he was feeling. Something indefinable. Some kind of power Diana held over him. Some kind of magic. Something.

_Trust me._ That's what Diana had said to him. What was there to trust? The woman had drugged a Sheriff and escaped into the night. And she wanted him to trust her? Quite a leap of faith.

Outside the window the snow now began to fall in thick masses. Janus watched it, sipping his tea, a thought swirling behind his eyes. He was thinking about Haven, that legendary place where Runners could go to escape from society, live out the rest of their days in freedom. Diana had told him about the legend. Haven, Janus thought. Bet that's where Diana's heading. Might be worth checking into.

Now he went to the closet where he kept his winter clothes. He put the heavy cloak about his shoulders and pulled up the hood. He pulled on a pair of mittens.

A few minutes later he was plodding through the snow. Winds were coming up fast, lifting up his cloak, the cloak flapping and snapping. He heard a raven's call echoing in the woods. He stopped to look at the bird. It was perched in a tree, head cocked, shiny black eyes staring down at him. _Caw, caw._ Janus moved on. His footsteps crunching through the packed snow. His breath exhaling pale plumes of wintry clouds against the gray sky.

As soon as he got to the stable he saddled the horse and mounted up. Now rider and horse moved across the white terrain, snow hissing against them, the horseman's cloak swirling behind. They moved through the rising woods and mounted the crest of a hill and then stopped for a moment to look down at the view below. A frozen landscape. Gray and bleak. Pale blur of sun. Man and animal moved on. Tearing across the countryside, rolling hills giving way to flatland, woods to open fields. After a while they came upon the river. It was serpentine and slow. They followed the river.

When they reached the tidal basin they headed due east. All along the way were crumbling ruins—the remains of an abandoned world, a forgotten time. One ruin looked like a fallen marble obelisk. It stretched out across the land like a broken and defeated phallic symbol of gigantic proportions. Another ruin looked like an enormous iron dome with at least thirty columns. Still another ruin looked like a marble palace.

Now Janus blinked away snow from his eyelashes to see street after street of three-story red-brick buildings. These structures were familiar to him.

As he rode past the Science Building he thought about Antevorta, wondering if she was escorting another group of children through the laboratories today.

Riding past the Education Building, Janus thought about his former Teachers. Some had been mean. Which was understandable because Teachers had a rough schedule. Teaching wasn't their only job. They also had to run the government of Equal.

Janus frowned when he rode past the Government Building. His feet were numb. His face was freezing. It was cold. He reined his horse a little to the left so he could see the line outside the Government Building. There was always a line there. Today there were maybe a hundred citizens freezing in line, waiting to get some bread and soup inside the government-run public market, where every meal was prepared in premeasured portions. Stuff tasted awful.

The Crematorium Building was up ahead. Black smoke billowed from its chimneys. Wind carried the haunting stench of burnt flesh. Janus looked away and pulled his cloak tight around him. The building reminded him of his deceased lover. Only days had passed since her accidental death and subsequent cremation. Janus rode past the Crematorium Building with his eyes averted. It represented the one thing he loathed about Sheriffing—having to euthanize and cremate citizens.

Now snow swirled thick around him. His eyes, squinting against the rushing whiteness, scanned the wintry landscape. Blankets of white powder hung heavy on the drooping branches of evergreens. Snowdrifts covered the walkways. Icicles hung from the edges of white roofs.

What timing, Janus thought. Snow. Wind. Ice. All of it happening while trying to capture the most elusive Runner ever. What's coming next? A damn tornado? The apocalypse?

A fierce squall of snow and wind was raging with blinding white fury when Janus finally reached the stable. He dismounted and led his horse into the warmth of the stable. He unsaddled and fed the animal. Then he left the stable and slogged through the white murk. It took him about two minutes to reach the Sheriff's Department.

* * *

SOMETHING SHERIFF ORCUS would always do was make you play a game of chess with him. It was the price you had to pay for getting information from him. Oh, you want to pick my brain? Play me a game of chess first.

Sheriff Janus needed information. He needed to learn more about Haven. So he needed to talk to Orcus. Orcus was the best source of information in the Sheriff's Department.

Now Janus poised his hand over the chessboard. It lingered there for a moment. Then his fingers tightened around a chess piece and began to move it. Keeping his fingers on the piece, now seeing the danger in the move, Janus returned the piece to its original position. His move would require a little more thought. He gave it some more thought. He nodded to himself. Then he moved a pawn.

And his desk wobbled.

His desk was always wobbling. It was a constant source of irritation. Janus wondered why everything had to suffer from shoddy workmanship. He knew the answer, but it still irritated him.

Shoddy workmanship resulted from the system, a system in which citizens moved through life in five-year phases, spending no more than five years employed in any particular occupation. Five years as a Sheriff. Five years as a Blacksmith. And so on. For a total of ten occupations spread out over fifty years—the predetermined lifetime of each citizen. Who could ever master a trade with a system like that? No one could because no one ever remained long enough in any particular occupation. Including the Carpenters who built wobbly desks.

"Your move, Janus."

Orcus had moved a chess piece, taking a pawn from Janus, Orcus losing a rook in the process. Rules of chess dictated that you had to lose one of your own pieces whenever you took a piece from another player. Orcus had used his rook to take a pawn from Janus, so Orcus was required to remove both the rook and the pawn from the chessboard. Rules of chess—designed to preserve self-esteem—ensured that every game ended in a tie. There were no winners or losers.

Now Janus stared at the chessboard. It was hard to concentrate with all the noise in the Sheriff's Department. Sheriffs booking lawbreakers. Citizens making complaints. Janus finally moved a chess piece forward. Then he leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers over his stomach and beamed with satisfaction at the cleverness of his move.

Orcus registered the move. Then he told Janus what he knew about Haven. Orcus said it was a legend about a place where Runners could go to escape from society. He said he believed this place really existed. He told Janus about a guy named Mercury. This guy? He's supposed to have connections to Haven. You want to find Haven? Find Mercury first. Shouldn't be too hard. Mercury runs the black market.

Janus gave Orcus a nod. Orcus had provided useful information. Getting the information from him was worth the pain of playing a game of chess.

Orcus's eyes flickered to the chessboard. He held his hand above a chess piece for a moment. Then he moved the piece backward.

And the desk wobbled again.

As Janus stared at the chessboard he realized something for the first time. He thought, Playing chess is like being a Sheriff. You have to use strategies and maneuvers and creativity. Maybe that's why Orcus plays the game so much. Maybe every Sheriff should play the game.

Now Janus shifted his jaw off center and studied Orcus's move. He took his time. He considered his options. After a while he slid a chess piece diagonally across the chessboard. It seemed like a good move.

Orcus grunted when he saw the move.

Janus took a moment to study Orcus, curious about how the man's mind worked, wondering if it ever pondered deep thoughts. Did Orcus ever think about the meaning of life? Did he ever wonder about the universe?

Janus had to smile now as he watched Orcus digging out ear wax with his forefinger and then wiping it on his tunic.

One of the other Sheriffs was coming this way. She strode up to Janus and looked at him with no great enthusiasm as she handed him a fresh loaf of bread. There was a note attached to it.

Janus raised his eyebrows at her. "What's this?"

"A gift."

"From?"

"Some woman who stopped by."

Janus watched as the female Sheriff drifted away from his desk. She was young, not bad-looking.

Now he read the note.

ENJOY THE BREAD. IT'S YOUR FAVORITE, I KNOW. SORRY ABOUT LAST NIGHT. THERE WAS SOMETHING I HAD TO DO BEFORE SURRENDERING MYSELF TO YOU. I PLAN TO STOP BY YOUR LODGING AGAIN TO SURRENDER MYSELF. I'LL SEE YOU TONIGHT. TRUST ME. DIANA.

Janus looked up from the piece of paper to see Orcus staring at him. The man wanted to know what the note said. He didn't come right out and say so, but you could see it on his face. Janus remained calm, in control of his facial expression, yet he could still feel a tension between the two of them. He cleared his throat.

Orcus was still staring at him with suspicious eyes.

Janus leaned forward and called out to the female Sheriff, "That woman still here? The one who stopped by?"

The female Sheriff was facing the other way. She half-turned to look at Janus, shrugged, and then went back to what she was doing.

He called out again, "How old was she?"

She half-turned again, glaring at him this time. "Almost fifty. She wore a gold tunic."

Janus held up his hand. "Thanks."

He thought, Gold tunic? Could it have been Diana disguised as Fama? Was she the one who delivered the note? Walking right into the Sheriff's Department would have been a pretty bold move for a Runner.

Janus folded the note.

Orcus watched him. "Something important?"

Janus said, "Nope," without looking up.

Orcus gave a skeptical grunt, drumming his fingers on the desk, the desk wobbling.

Janus took his time putting the folded note in his pocket. Then he looked up. Orcus was nowhere in sight.

* * *

DIANA WAS AT his door. Sheriff Janus let her in. She crossed the threshold and surveyed his lodging, the orange glow of the fireplace, the silver moonlight in the window.

When he closed the door she turned to him. Her eyes probed his. He stared into those eyes, feeling a desire, unaware of its origin.

She smiled at him, her eyes filling with a spark, their sweet grayness bright with anticipation.

He smiled back at her, intense sensations surging through his body, flooding his veins with passion.

They stood gazing at each other, knowing it, feeling it. Neither said a word. Words were unnecessary. Man and woman understood. They understood what could be. What would be. They were two lost souls shutting out the cruel world of forbidden freedom and happiness. They were lost in a world of their own making, a world of promise and possibility.

She stared at him, desire conveyed in her eyes, her lips.

He stood still, aware that the first move must be hers, and hers alone.

The moment possessed a sense of ease. Contentment.

The glittering surface and myriad colors of her sparkling tunic filled the room with endless reflections. Its low cut revealed the swell of her breasts. Which she wanted him to see. And he knew it.

Her eyes searched his, never looking away, as she reached for his hand. He met her halfway. Their hands touched. Their fingers caressed, becoming entwined, two becoming one.

They came together, embracing each other, her face pressed against his chest. He drew her closer, kissing her hair, stroking her hair. She brought her hands up to his shoulders, paused for a moment, and then linked her arms around his neck, pressing her body into his, gentle at first, and then with growing intensity.

His hands went to her waist. She reached back, cupping his hands in hers, and led his hands down lower. He felt the soft swells of warm roundness. He trembled, aroused.

She lifted her head, gazing up at him from under her eyelashes, long and dark and thick. Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands, her lips parting as she brought them to his. His lips covered her open mouth. Her throat moaned with pleasure.

She pulled her lips from his and took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. There was an awkward moment when he almost stumbled over a loose floorboard. It made them laugh till tears came to their eyes. Then she led him into the bedroom, her eyes saying, Oh, Janus, Janus, Janus . . .

"Janus? Janus? Wake up."

Janus opened his eyes, blinking and yawning. He looked up. A man was standing before his desk. One of the other Sheriffs.

The man was saying, "You keep falling asleep at your desk, you might think about bringing a pillow to work." Chuckling as he walked away.

Yawning again, Janus stretched his arms. Then he rolled his head to work out the kinks in his neck. That was when he saw the loaf of bread on his desk. It looked good. And he was hungry. He reached for it, tore off a piece.

Janus considered his options as he chewed. It was already evening, and thick snow blanketed the world outside, so riding his horse all the way to the black market would be an act of insanity. It'd be better to wait till morning. Besides, that citizen who ran the black market—what was his name? Mercury? Yep, that was it. Mercury would be easier to find during the daylight hours.

Janus tore off another piece of bread and bit into it and smacked his lips. Something else was coming to mind. He was thinking about the looming deadline for capturing Diana. Tomorrow was the last day. His last chance. The day after tomorrow the assignment would be given to another Sheriff, and Janus would no longer have a perfect capture record.

Now he wiped the crumbs from his hands, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the note from Diana. He read it again, focusing on the last part.

I'LL SEE YOU TONIGHT. TRUST ME.

Janus tapped his lips with his forefinger, thinking, Well, maybe she really will show up tonight. Could happen. Right?

He shrugged.

There was a familiar scent in the air. Janus wrinkled his nose, sniffing at the smell. It smelled good. Like perfume. Where was it coming from? Janus looked around. He didn't see any women within smelling distance. He looked down at the note in his hand. He pressed the piece of paper to his nose. It smelled like perfume. Had Diana sprayed it with perfume?

Now Janus folded the note and slid it into his pocket. Feeling a hole in the bottom of the pocket, he said to himself, You need to get that mended.

Then he got up from his desk and donned his heavy cloak and headed home.

* * *

LOOK AT THIS guy, Sheriff Orcus thought. Man, look at him. Hotshot Sheriff with a swagger in his step. What a dumb-ass.

Orcus was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on his desk, watching Sheriff Janus cutting across the floor of the Sheriff's Department. The hotshot was heading for the door, probably going home for the evening.

Something happened right before he went out the door. Something white fell to the ground behind him. Orcus stared at the white object. What the hell was it?

Orcus lowered his feet to the floor and sat forward in the chair and waited till the hotshot was out the door. Then he rose and went to see what the guy had dropped. He took several steps before he could see it was a folded piece of paper. His eyebrows went up, Orcus wondering if it could be that note, the one Janus had been reading earlier.

Now Orcus stepped on the piece of paper. He stood scanning the room, his eyes darting from side to side.

No one was watching him. Good.

He bent and picked it up. He opened it. Read it. Grinned. Yeah, it was the note.

What was Janus up to? Meeting a Runner at his lodging? Letting her come and go as she pleased? Not just one night, two nights.

Orcus intended to find the answers. He went out the door to follow Janus home.

### CHAPTER 7

FAMA WAS AT his door. Sheriff Janus let her in.

He closed the door and looked her up and down. "Diana, you been wearing that disguise all day?"

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

"How come you're looking at me that way?" he said.

She opened her mouth to speak and closed it without saying a word. She was still staring at him.

"What is it?" he said. "Diana, what's going on?"

She took his hand and patted it. "My poor boy, you don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"Diana played a hoax on you."

"What?"

"A hoax."

"You're not Diana?"

"No. I'm Fama. I'm a real person, not some disguise." She patted his hand again.

Janus stared at her. It took him a moment to register her words. When the words finally registered he frowned and shook his head, realizing he'd been played for a fool again.

What a fool.

He paced the room, back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck and muttering to himself. He couldn't believe it. Diana had lied to him. She'd told him that Fama was just a disguise. Janus had actually believed her.

What a fool.

Now he heard snickering.

He spun around to see Fama snickering, her hand over her mouth, amusement in her eyes. He watched as she put her hand to her neck and started to pull at something. He saw her face contorting and twisting. Then he realized it wasn't her face. It was a rubber mask. Now the mask came off, and he could see it was Diana. She giggled now, one hand pointing to Janus, the other holding up the rubberized face of Fama.

When Diana said, "Gotcha," Janus didn't know how to react. What he did was glare at her. How come she was laughing at him? Citizens never laughed at other citizens. Never. Nothing was more insulting than to be laughed at. Who'd Diana think she was? Janus had no idea. She was a mystery to him.

He studied her now, scanning her face, searching for a sign of malice. There didn't seem to be any malice in her. There was warmth in her eyes, a glow about her, sincerity in her countenance. Everything in her seemed to be goodness, golden goodness, from her eyes to her heart to her soul.

Now a feeling swelled in Janus. It was that same strange feeling he'd experienced once before. This time, however, he gave in to it without hesitation. A smile spread across his face. Then he laughed. Roared with laughter. Diana laughed with him. They laughed together.

When the laughter died down, the two of them still smiling, there was a moment when their eyes locked. It was a brief moment, but one of significance.

Then, a heartbeat later, she gave him a sad smile and came to him and rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek and then spun around and clasped her hands behind her back and said, "I surrender."

In that moment, that perfect moment, Diana became even more beautiful than before. Now Janus felt something new, something stronger, more intense. He struggled with his feelings as he pulled the rope from his pocket and bound Diana's hands behind her back. His feelings began to torment him now, tugging at his heart, relentless.

On instinct, without thinking, he withdrew his knife and cut her loose. Right away he wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. She put her hands over his, tilting her head back, allowing his lips to reach farther. When she moaned he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom.

* * *

SHERIFF ORCUS HEARD all of it, everything that happened between Janus and Diana, between Sheriff and Runner. Every word. Every moan.

Orcus was standing in the dark hall, his head against Janus's door, his ear pressed to the crack. Waiting. Listening. Hoping to hear some more. But there was nothing now.

Orcus didn't know how to play it. Should he bust down the door and arrest them both now? Or, should he wait, see what they do tomorrow?

He was playing with these two options in his mind, going back and forth, not sure which would be more fun. Either way, Janus would be a dead man, and Orcus would be the only Sheriff in the local Sheriff's Department with a perfect capture record.

Orcus stood in the darkness of the hall for a long time. Then he grinned his grin and stepped away from the door. He crept back down the hall in his sock feet. Tiptoed down the stairs. Picked up his boots from where he'd stood them by the front door. Pulled them on. And went out the door.

### CHAPTER 8

NEAR DAWN. DIANA was curled into Janus. Her cheek against his chest, her breath warm on his shoulder, her round knees pressed against his thigh.

Janus gazed at her. So beautiful. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She came half-awake, sighing, and then fell back asleep.

He eased out from beneath her and slipped out of the bed. He covered her body with the soft sheets. He kissed her sweet forehead.

Stretching to his tiptoes, he reached up and arched his back and let out yawn. His bare feet padded across the bedroom. Then they stopped. He picked up a pair of socks and slipped them on and walked out of the room.

When he got to the fireplace he took hold of the poker and stoked the embers. He placed another log on top. He waited. Embers glowed warm. Flames licked wood. The log crackled.

Now Janus crouched forward, hands to the fire, feeling the heat. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and took a deep breath. Holding it . . . Then letting it out, slow, unhurried. He kept doing that for almost a minute, breathing in, out.

Temptation, he said to himself. You let temptation distract you from your duty. Temptation in the form of a woman, a stunning woman, the most beautiful woman ever.

Janus had to wonder why he'd succumbed to the temptation with such ease, with such speed, with so little struggle. As if getting involved with Diana meant so much more to him than everything else in his life. It wasn't like him to give in to temptation. He was a man of principle, always putting duty first, never allowing relations to interfere.

Then how come it was different with Diana? Janus wasn't sure. He gave it some thought. After a while the answer came to him, the reasons why Diana was special. It was because she brightened the muted shadows of his muted existence. And because she reminded him, more than any other woman, of his deceased lover.

Now Janus stared at the floor and chewed on the edge of his lower lip. He was casting his mind back, staring at the memories, haunting memories.

His eyes came back into focus when an ember popped in the fireplace. A few moments later he rose and turned from the fireplace and spotted the rubber mask Diana had worn. It was lying on the table. The sight of it made him smile.

He went to it. Held it up. Examined it. He was impressed with Diana's artistic skill. The rubberized face of Fama looked realistic. Now he could feel something hard inside one of the rubber ears. He reached in, pulled it out. It was an Equalizer.

He rolled the small white electronic device between his forefinger and thumb, back and forth, thinking, This must be the Equalizer Diana deactivated, the one she used to wear before becoming a Runner . . .

A Runner.

Diana was a Runner. And Janus was a Sheriff. His duty was to deliver her to justice.

But what if . . .

His mind raced now. He said to himself, What if you decided not to deliver her to justice?

His mind toyed with the idea as his feet stepped to the window. He stood at the window and gazed out at the eastern sky. The last stars fading into dawn. Brilliant specks of dust from an ancient time. Janus was thinking he could lie about it, tell Sheriff Aurora that he never found Diana, that he'd tried but failed. Sheriff Aurora would believe him. And Janus would suffer no consequences for failing at his job. Trying was what mattered, not succeeding. Society was concerned only with the effort. Results were inconsequential.

Janus thought about it as he looked out at the soundless dawn. He realized his values were different from society's values. Results weren't inconsequential to him. Results mattered to him. His perfect capture record mattered. It mattered because it kept his sanity intact. It mattered because it kept him from going crazy in this mundane world of unremitting sameness, sameness, sameness.

He tried to imagine what his life would be like if he didn't have a perfect capture record. It was impossible to imagine. He'd have no place in the world. No purpose. He'd be just like everyone else. Just another brick in the wall.

Now he opened the window a few inches and put his hand outside and rubbed one of the bricks. He pictured the thousands of other bricks out there, each one part of the whole, each one existing for the building, not a single brick existing for itself.

Janus shivered in the cold air. He closed the window and then stood staring out at the darkness. He now realized his line of thinking was selfish. His thoughts of vanity were wrong. He knew it. Knew it but didn't feel it. What he felt was something else, something true, something right.

Staring out at the darkness, Janus was beginning to see the light, realizing he could make a change in his life. He could become a better person, a happier person, with a new purpose in life. A more meaningful purpose. One that could sustain him for the rest of his life. His new purpose? Diana's freedom.

Something inside Janus had changed. He wasn't sure how or when the change had come, but he knew there was no going back.

Now he rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. He told himself, Okay, you lie to Sheriff Aurora. You tell her you never found Diana. Make it convincing. You already know how she'll react. She'll just shrug and give you a new assignment. Then she'll assign another Sheriff to capture Diana. Chances are, no Sheriff will ever capture Diana. She's too cunning for the average Sheriff. Way too cunning. She'll have her freedom.

Now Janus inhaled through his nose, slow, and then exhaled. Looking out the window, he pursed his lips and began to roll the Equalizer between his forefinger and thumb again. He knew his actions could lead to his own death. He'd be euthanized if they caught him lying about never finding Diana. He thought about that now. He thought about dying. He thought, To end it all—not a bad thing. The thought soothed him. Like vodka always did.

His decision was made. Diana would have her freedom. Even if Janus had to die for it.

Staring out at the twinkling stars, he felt relaxed now, peaceful in the dawn solitude. After a while he looked over his shoulder at the fireplace. Flames blazing inside. He ambled over to the glowing orange light. He stared into the flames for a moment. Then he threw the Equalizer into the roaring fire.

### AUTHOR INFO

**You finished** _Equal Part 1_ **. Now what?  
** Part 2 is available for purchase.  
So is Part 3.  
So is the full saga.

**Want to receive my free newsletter?  
**Sign up here.

**Do you read customer reviews?  
** I do. And so do other customers.  
That's why I'd love if you'd take  
a few moments to write a review  
of this book. Thank you.

**Comments?  
** I'd love to hear from you.  
wjcostello@live.com

**Want more info?  
** There's more on my website.  
wjcostello.com
