CONFORMITY (Book Two of The Criminogenic Trilogy) by BT Murphy Page B

the Director was being treated, she flashed her card once again to the Bulldogs on guard.  They might recognize who she really was and shatter the façade that she had established.  Plastering on her most charming smile, her heart started racing a little bit faster when she was faced with the gargantuan men.
    “Name?”  one brute commanded gruffly.
    “Evelyn Millicent Winston,” she responded coolly, not wanting to give away any lack of confidence.
    “Card please, Ms. Winston.” He had softened his approach, her flawless elocution and Zone 1 mannerisms winning over the guards.
    She presented the card to the tall man with confidence. It was very worn, but she hoped that he wouldn’t notice the outdated information.  Too many questions could destroy her plans and see her being detained for impersonation.  She had been so careful to stay off of the radar for years, that changing it would be her ruin.
    The guard studied her card for several painful minutes.  Beady eyes darting between her face and scanning the card again.  Curling his mouth into a grimace, he spoke: “This card is outdated Madam.”
    “Oh, I know,” Evelyn sighed, trying her best to remain casual. “Commissioner Winston keeps reminding me, but you know how absent minded women can be.”  She hated using her father’s name, but some situations called for name-dropping.  They would never know either, her Could father was the State’s best kept secret. The Bulldog was curt, and silently waved her in with a polite nod. 
    Evelyn was met with the frail excuse of what power was supposed to look like.  A maze of pipes and tubes webbed around the grey haired man, his handsome face ashen and vacant.  She’d been assured that he was able to hear her, and that if his energy levels allowed it, he could talk to her.  She didn’t care if he spoke to her though, and she didn’t want to hear his voice.  Evelyn took sharp, frantic breaths and walked closer to the sleeping man.  She knew that with a flick of a switch, the magnanimous Director Phelps could be expunged, and she knew that she could do it.  It took a few moments before Evelyn snapped out of her trance.  She shook herself off, trying to rid herself of the uncomfortable feelings washing over her.  Reprimanding herself silently, she reminded herself that she just needed to confirm his condition.  It was clear that Jonathan Phelps was in a bad way, but recovering. Evelyn studied his vital signs for a while to be sure he’d pull through.  There would be repercussions felt throughout the Lower Zones because of his attack. His death would further intensify the lock down for citizens.
    Evelyn had seen enough. She turned to leave the stinging smell of death and the deafening sound of machinery keeping organs alive.  Before she reached the door, she heard a shuffling groan from behind her and a whisper for her to wait.  She hesitated, eyes shut tightly to avoid seeing her surroundings. She had woken him up.  She turned to face him, defiant and proud. Evelyn took one step forward with her head held high. 
    “Evie?” That was all the weakened Jonathan could muster, his eyes pleading with her to stay.  Trying to get her to understand him, he mouthed a few inaudible words while he slipped in and out of consciousness.  Evelyn tried to stay unaffected, but her resistance was failing her.  With a resigned sigh, she returned to his side. 
    “You’re a bastard, Jonathan Phelps,” she said, choking back the tears.  His eyes pleading with her to stay, his mouth was gasping for words to tell her.  Using the energy that he had left, he reached for her soft, caramel colored hand.  Gently caressing her warmth with his ice-cold hand.  Evelyn let him rest his hand on hers for a moment before withdrawing slowly; too many memories and emotions were flooding her mind.  She tried to remain calm and determined, but her humanity forced her to relinquish her hatred toward the system. 
    She smiled