A Boy Called Hawk (Annals of Altair Book 1)

by Kate Stradling

  The little boy in the back turned an inquisitive look upon his sister. “You did such a good job,” she told him exuberantly, and she patted his hand in encouragement. He nodded and shifted his attention back to the pair up front.

  Hummer stubbornly kept his focus on the road. He was not excessively tall for an eleven-year-old, so his head was barely above the steering wheel, and he had to strain his left foot to work the clutch. After a long silence and a couple gear-shifts, he finally deigned to ask, “What are we supposed to do for transportation without the jeep? Commandeer one of those stupid electric cars that can only go a hundred miles before you have to stop and recharge it?”

  “We’ll think of something,” said Hawk. “We’re almost out of fuel anyway, and the chance that we’ll find any more gas engines to siphon from is pretty low. The jeep has served its purpose. You knew when we took it that we’d have to abandon it at some point.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Hummer grumbled.

  Honey leaned forward between their seats and looked at the pair curiously. “You two didn’t plan this very well, did you?” The two boys exchanged a glance but didn’t reply. “Hawk?” she prompted of the oldest.

  “We planned exceptionally well,” he said, but then his face screwed up in annoyance. “Honey! Cut that out!”

  She settled back in her seat with a grumble. “If you’d planned exceptionally well, you’d’ve stolen an airplane instead of this crumbling hunk of metal.”

  Hawk snorted. “You think they’d let us anywhere near an airplane? Besides that, planes are too visible, too easy to track. Honestly, it’s a miracle that we got this far—if Prom-F hadn’t followed their Emergency Contingency Plan to the letter, we would never have gotten anywhere near you two.”

  “And what happens when we run out of gasoline?” she asked sarcastically. “Do we get out and walk?”

  “I forgot what a little snot you could be,” said Hawk. “We’re more than happy to listen to your suggestions, but until you have any, just be glad that we got you out. Or would you rather go back?”

  “Of course not! That’s why I’m so concerned! Happy’s concerned too, aren’t you, Happy?”

  Hawk and Honey both turned expectant eyes to the stoic little boy in the back corner. His attention shifted between them uncertainly. After a long pause, his stomach let out a loud gurgle.

  “I’m hungry,” he said, meekly apologetic.

  Honey and Hawk exchanged alarmed glances. “Step on it, Hummer,” Honey cried, “or we’ll all be starving!”

  The bell rang in the doorway of a small diner. A handful of patrons looked up from their meals in vague interest. Three boys and a girl entered, which was something out of the ordinary. Children were supposed to be in school during the daytime hours.

  Seemingly oblivious to the curious glances they were receiving, the four children crossed to the lunch counter and seated themselves on four barstools there. The youngest had to be helped up, but the others settled in quite nicely. In the background, a television blared the National Public News Network. The man behind the counter, who had been casually waiting for an order from the kitchen, left his post and hurried toward the young customers.

  “What can I get you?” he asked, pad of paper at the ready.

  “Scrambled eggs and hash browns,” said the oldest, “a plate for each of us.”

  “Hawk, you eat eggs?” said Honey. “Isn’t that like cannibalism? What would Revere say?”

  “He doesn’t care. He eats eggs too. He eats everything. Happy, do you like eggs?”

  The youngest nodded.

  “I don’t,” said Hummer, whose head had dropped to the countertop in sheer fatigue.

  “Well, what do you want, oatmeal?”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “So,” said the man behind the counter hesitantly, “three scrambled eggs and hash browns, and one bowl of oatmeal? Anything to drink?”

  “What d’you have?” asked Hawk.

  “Apple juice, orange juice, and soymilk.”

  “Orange juice all around,” he said scornfully. “I’m sick to death of soymilk.”

  The man placed their order with the kitchen, but then he turned back with some misgivings on his face. “Shouldn’t you kids… be in school or something?”

  “We’re on leave,” said Honey, and she beamed brightly at him.

  Her answer didn’t sit quite right, if the man’s unsettled expression was any indication, but he didn’t question further. Instead, his eyes shifted to her little brother next to her. Happy was staring with unbridled desire at a glass dome and the plate of glazed doughnuts that sat beneath it. Without a second thought, the man extracted one and handed it to him. “Here you go, on the house.” Then, stunned at his own generosity, he looked to the other three children uncertainly.

  “Thanks,” said Hawk. “That’ll help the rest of us a lot. Eat up, Happy.”

  Happy dutifully took a big bite. Then, he offered the doughnut to Honey.

  “You eat it,” she said. “I can buy my own if I want one.”

  Hummer lifted his tired head from his arms. “Honey, where exactly did you get all this money you have?”

  “My handler gave me some,” she said innocently, “and I got the rest from the nurse in the infirmary.” The two older boys exchanged a knowing glance, which caused her to add with an edge to her voice, “It’s not stealing if they give it to you freely. Not like taking a jeep in the middle of the night. And I knew you two probably wouldn’t have access to any money, so I planned ahead.”

  They couldn’t exactly argue with her, so they lapsed into silence instead. The man behind the counter, curious as he was of their conversation, reluctantly resumed his work.

  The television overhead suddenly cut to a female anchor, who reported in a very serious voice, “Two children were abducted near Seattle, Washington early this morning. Authorities have confirmed that nine-year-old Maddie North and her six-year-old brother Alex were stolen from their home while their parents slept…”

  “Maddie North?” Hawk echoed incredulously.

  “North, West, what’s the difference?” said Hummer, his eyes closed.

  The screen flashed side-by-side images of Honey and Happy.

  “Hey, Mister,” said Honey, “can you please change the channel?”

  The man behind the counter immediately reached one hand up and switched the station. “You know,” he said slowly as his eyes trained on a pair of rollicking cartoon characters, “it’s not supposed to be changed.” Federal law required all commercial businesses to keep their televisions tuned to NPNN.

  “It’s okay,” said Honey. “We wanna watch cartoons.” For added measure, she smiled brightly. Next to her, Happy finished off his doughnut as he stared up at the screen in fascination.

  With the cartoon soundtrack in their ears, the four children ate their breakfast. If the handful of patrons scattered throughout the diner thought there was anything amiss, they didn’t react. Instead, they all tranquilly ate as well. Several of them even impulsively ordered a glazed doughnut from the pile beneath the glass dome.

  As Honey pulled a wad of bills from her pocket to pay for the meal, Hawk asked the room in general, “Does anyone know of a retired doctor or veterinarian around here?”

  One patron raised his hand. “My uncle retired a few years ago. He lives a couple streets away.”

  Hawk hurried over to get directions from the man, and Honey leaned over to Hummer, who had returned to lying against the countertop. “Why do we need a retired doctor?” she asked.

  Hummer half-raised his head and wordlessly tapped the top of his left hand.

  “But why a retired doctor?”

  “Because his license will’ve lapsed, so he won’t be required to report us,” said Hummer. “Chances are he won’t if he doesn’t have to, ’cause he won’t want to get into trouble.”

  She nodded, understanding at last. A couple minutes later the four children filed out of the diner as quietly as they ha
d come, leaving behind a collection of bewildered patrons.

  “You’ve already deactivated our ID chips, Hawk,” Honey said as she followed him down the street. “What now?”

  “We’re going to get them removed,” said Hawk. “I’m not sure what level of technology is involved, and I don’t want to risk the possibility that someone could reactivate them. Hummer and I don’t have to worry about that, but for you two…”

  “Shouldn’t you get yours removed anyway?” Honey asked.

  Hawk paused in his steps and considered her words. “We can, if it’ll make you feel any better.”

  Honey looked to Happy. “What do you say? Should big brothers get their nasty tracking chips cut out of their hands before you and I do?”

  Happy hesitated but ultimately nodded his taciturn agreement.

  Hummer sighed in resignation, and Hawk resumed his path. “Come on. Let’s find this doctor so that you can strong-arm him into doing what we want. We still have to dump the jeep and find someone willing to buy the last of our gasoline after that.”

  “And someone willing to take four kids as hitchhikers,” Hummer added, disgruntled.

  “We’ll be fine,” said Honey with brash assurance. “I haven’t met the person yet who could say no to me.”

  Article I, Section 2

  Oliver and Emily

  July 2, 8:08am edt, New York

  Emily Brent had spent the last six weeks waiting for security clearance for her new internship. After more than two years of applications and screenings, to her great joy, she had finally qualified to work as a child-life counselor at the prestigious Prometheus Institute. The position directly aligned with her career ambitions and would provide ample experience and networking possibilities. She couldn’t have been more excited.

  Hence, she was devastated to be late for work on her very first day.

  It was only partly her fault. Somewhere between her morning glass of soymilk and her toasted bagel, she had become distracted by the news. She kept the television on more for the background noise than from any general interest, but the reporters had started into a story about a horrific kidnapping the day before, out on the West Coast. When the angelic faces of Maddie and Alex North flashed up on the screen, Emily was hooked. When their distraught parents tearfully pled for anyone with information about their darlings to call the national hotline, she completely failed to notice the clock tick past 7:45, the absolute latest time she could leave her tiny studio apartment. Only when the broadcast cut to commercial did she look up and realize her mistake.

  Her immaculately pressed slacks and crisp white blouse became horrendously disheveled as she sprinted to the nearby train station. She couldn’t miss her train. It only ran twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. If she missed it, she would have to find a car to take her, and that would not only make her late, but it would cost a horrific amount of money that she, as a new graduate, did not possess.

  She waited impatiently for her turn to pass through the metal detectors into the terminal. Once cleared, she sprinted halfway across the station to the correct platform and flashed her newly acquired security badge—delivered only the day before—to the guard who blocked access to the train. All of the other passengers had boarded already, and the final call was being made. Emily nearly screamed as the guard methodically checked the list, then glanced from her badge to her face.

  He was going to make her miss her train, she thought as she forced a smile.

  Blessedly he let her by, and she hurried to the last open door, where a sour-faced conductor waited. He spared her a narrow-eyed glare as she passed. She stumbled into the first open seat she found and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

  That relief was short-lived. Two minutes after the train pulled from the station, her new cell phone rang. Emily scrambled to answer it, conscious of judgmental stares from the other passengers. The phone had been issued by her new employers with the admonition that it was to be used only for work purposes in the coming months. The incoming call was blocked.

  “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

  “Emily Brent?” said an unfamiliar voice on the other side.

  “Yes, this is Emily.”

  “There’s been a change in your assignment. Please exit the train at the next stop. A car will be there to take you to the airport.”

  “Airport?” Emily echoed sharply, but the person on the other end of the phone call had already hung up.

  Her heart sank into her stomach. Her assigned Prometheus campus was at the end of this train ride. If the powers-that-be had changed their minds, if they had reassigned her to another job, she would have to pack all of her things and find a new place to live in a new town with new people. Emily didn’t want to leave New York. She had been ecstatic to learn yesterday, when her security clearance finally came through, that she wouldn’t have to.

  Even as bitter disappointment took root in her, though, she suppressed it. Her assignment might have changed, but the voice had said nothing about it being entirely new. Likely they needed her at another Prometheus campus instead of the New York one. She would still get the prestigious internship, would still get her past school debt forgiven by the government, and would still ensure her future educational goals.

  Besides, she wasn’t in a position to complain. She’d already signed away the next two years of her life for work-service anyway.

  Thus, when the train pulled to a halt at the next station, Emily Brent collected her wits and calmly stepped off onto the platform. A man in a gray suit stood waiting.

  “Emily Brent?” he said expectantly.

  “Yes.” She donned a pleasant smile and extended her hand, which the man efficiently shook. “I understand that my assignment has changed?”

  “We’ll discuss that on the way.” He tipped his head toward the exit. Emily followed behind him, out of the train station and to the street beyond. There, a car and driver waited, with one back door open to receive its passengers. The man in the gray suit gestured for Emily to precede him.

  She settled into the far side and the man sat next to her. As she buckled her seat belt, the driver took his position up front. The electric motor hummed to life, and they pulled out into traffic.

  “Your assignment itself hasn’t changed,” said the man in the gray suit, and Emily wondered why he had never told her his name. He produced a file from the brown leather briefcase at his feet, but paused in the act of extending it to her. “You are aware that all information pertaining to your job is confidential, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said. It wasn’t like she had anyone to tell anyway. Her friends from college were all in the same boat, apprenticed to various sub-departments within the Government-Civilian Alliance and sworn to secrecy about what they were doing, and her parents lived on the other side of the country. She rarely even spoke to them, except for the occasional check-in.

  Satisfied with her answer, the man handed her the file. “As you were told yesterday, you’ve been assigned to the Prometheus-A campus. For the next two months, you’ll be the child-life counselor to Oliver Dunn.”

  Emily curiously opened the file and glanced down at the first page. It was headed with “Oliver Henry Dunn.” Beneath that, next to a column of vital statistics, was a picture of a pale-faced, dark-haired boy who stared sullenly back at her. “Oh, isn’t he… cute.” The faint praise fell flat. She couldn’t even pretend that the boy looked anything but contemptuous.

  Next to her, the man in the gray suit suppressed a laugh. “It’s only two months,” he said apologetically. “Normally we would’ve given you this information at the Institute, but we received an urgent request this morning for Oliver. You’ll meet him at the airport and accompany him to Prometheus-F to assist with an incident they had there. It probably won’t take more than a few days.”

  “A few days?” she said in sudden panic. “I didn’t bring any luggage. I don’t even have a toothbrush!”

  “They’ll provide you
with everything you need. There’ll be people to brief you on the situation as well. I can only emphasize, Ms. Brent, that all of this is highly confidential.”

  “Of course,” said Emily with a curt nod. His serious, secretive nature piqued her curiosity. What sort of “incident” had occurred at Prometheus-F, that they would need to treat it with such care and yet that they would call in a ten-year-old boy for assistance?

  Well, but he was no ordinary ten-year-old boy. He was a Prometheus student, and the Prometheus Institute was only the most exclusive of all the schools in the nation, reserved for the best and brightest of the rising generation. Supposedly not even political clout or money could get a child admitted if he wasn’t smart enough on his own.

  Emily quelled her bubbling nerves and sat back in the car. She was no academic slouch herself, so she didn’t need to feel intimidated by a ten-year-old, even if he did have a genius IQ. Who followed that outdated assessment tool anymore, anyway? And just because he was enrolled at a more exclusive primary school than hers had been was no reason for her to feel inferior.

  Okay, so maybe he was a little intimidating. But he was still only ten, still only a child, and if he had spent his entire life pursuing academics, he was probably a very lonely little boy. On that thought, she closed the file and determined that she would have to wait to see what he was like in person before she cast any judgments on him.

  She had been late to the train station because of her own negligence, but she was late to the airport because of traffic. As the car navigated through throngs of other vehicles, with bicycles and scooters whizzing by on both sides, the man in the gray suit grew increasingly irritated, and the driver increasingly flustered.

  “We were supposed to be there twenty minutes ago.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. There’s an accident up ahead. I’ll do my best to get around it quickly.”