by Budgett, Jay
One of the men mouthed something. Another put a hand to his ear and nodded before putting a gun to the woman’s head. We dropped lower in the sky. My saran-wrapped cocoon swung just a few feet from the woman’s head.
For a split second, her eyes stopped wandering, and I noticed her nose was angled sharp from the side. I knew that nose. Her eyes met mine.
Mom.
For a moment, she was lucid. Kai, she mouthed.
Then the man with the gun pulled the trigger.
Chapter 35
Dove’s face was solemn as he pulled me into the copter. “Balls,” he muttered. It was probably the only thing he could think to say. Mila and Phoenix sat facing forward. They stared straight ahead without saying a word.
The Caravites had killed my mother. They’d held her prisoner all this time—tortured her to insanity, held a gun to her head—and now they’d killed her. My neck was damp. Probably all the rain. I wiped it with my hand. My fingers were stained red. Blood. I felt sick to my stomach. I puked in the cabin’s corner. My heart was on fire. It burned, and burned like hell. Like someone had torn off a piece of it and then lit it on fire. I knew immediately the burning would never go away. My heart would never feel the same again: Mom was gone.
And if the Caravites had their way, then soon I would be too.
Bertha twisted the controls, and we shot into cloud cover. Apparently she thought we’d lost the Feds, but I knew that they’d never really been chasing us. The chancellor had only wanted to make sure I saw what they—the Caravites and Lost Boys—had done to my mom.
There was something I didn’t like about the chancellor—something slimy, a thirst for power maybe—but he’d been honest with me. He’d admitted he’d been holding Charlie to get to me and the other Lost Boys. He’d shown me the truth about Mom. It was horrifying and heartbreaking and scarring, but it was still the truth, and it was more than Phoenix had ever given me. Phoenix was right, after all: the lies chewed you, but the truth devoured you whole.
Now we raced home to New Texas. I wondered where they’d dropped the nets filled with the Indigo cases, but I wasn’t really in a position to ask. I sort of figured they’d passed it on to the Caravites somehow. I guess it didn’t really matter. Not now. Not anymore. The Feds would get it all back soon, anyway.
Bertha broke the silence. “Well,” she said. There was more silence. She fiddled with the controls. Mariachi music blared. Mila pounded the back of Bertha’s seat. “TURN THAT SHIT OFF!” Bertha muttered curses under breath and turned off the music. More awkward silence followed.
Dove sighed. “Balls.” He breathed against the copter’s windowpane and drew a frowny face in the fog that was left. Underneath he wrote “Sory Kai.”
The poor guy was at least eighteen and he still couldn’t spell—but it was a nice gesture in his own way.
It was too late for gestures, though. My resolve had already hardened. I’d known from the beginning not to trust them—that everything they’d told me was a lie. Especially the stuff they’d said about Mom. They knew the Caravites had her this entire time, and they’d lied to me about it, hidden the truth.
“You can’t think about it,” said Bertha finally, still staring at the controls. “Thinking about it won’t make it easier. Not now at least. Better to pretend it didn’t happen—”
“Come on, Bertha,” said Dove. “Let the little man grieve for a minute.”
Her nostrils flared. “For Christ’s sake, Doveboat, there are worse ways to die than by a gun—”
“And how would you know?” I asked. My blood was boiling. “HOW THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW?”
For once, Bertha fell silent. Everyone was silent. We just stared at the gray horizon. At the clouds that never went away—that just sat there, floating. Hanging, and would continue to hang until the end of the world.
Today of all days, however, my sky was a bit more gray.
It wasn’t easy when Dad died. I guess it’s never easy to say goodbye. It doesn’t matter how long you know it’s coming. When you watch someone get on their train, and they leave you standing at the station, it’s hard not to feel the rain.
Euthanizations weren’t easy. They were manufactured goodbyes. Cold and artificial. But they were still goodbyes. They didn’t feel like this—like someone had pulled apart the threads of your heart’s fabric.
The five of us stayed silent as Bertha landed the copter next to the New Texas fort. Dove squeezed my arm. Bertha caught my eye, sighed, and frowned. Phoenix and Mila did nothing. I guess they were still planning when to kill me. Probably would try to throw me out in the ocean. Make it look like an accident or something.
“We should’ve told him,” Bertha whispered to Phoenix as we walked toward the fort.
“Told me what?” I said.
“Nothing,” snapped Phoenix. “We don’t have anything to tell you, kid.”
“Is it time for my pill again?” I asked, wondering how long it’d been since I’d taken the last one. “When do I get my pills again?”
Phoenix frowned. I was pushing his buttons. Soon, he’d have no choice but to reveal his intentions.
“Since I’m apparently never getting vaccinated,” I continued, “don’t you think it’s about time for me to get them again?”
Bertha’s eyes widened, confirming my suspicions. The pills they’d given me were bullshit, like hormones they gave to cows to sedate them before slaughter. Never meant to be a lasting solution to the Carcinogens—just a temporary one to keep me quiet until they pulled the gun.
I ran into the fort. Why had they needed me at all? Why had they kept me around? Why had they insisted I go into the field with Phoenix for every mission if they were just going to kill me in the end? I closed my eyes and thought about the look on Mom’s face, her lips as they’d mouthed my name, the book I’d seen sprawled open in the Caravan’s library…
And suddenly, everything clicked: they’d been after Mom all along. The moment they had me in their hands and realized who I was, it became all about her. It was never about me at all. They’d been using me as a way to keep her cooperating, working on whatever sick plans they’d hatched for the megalodons. There was a reason the megalodons appeared whenever the Lost Boys got in the water. They were controlling them, some way, somehow. Just another one of Phoenix’s ways to start a revolution, I guessed. Mega sharks and microscopic poisons. God, what a guy.
As the others filed into the fort, I ran to the control room. I had to call the chancellor and stop whatever plan Phoenix was hatching. I didn’t trust the chancellor, but I trusted the Lost Boys even less. And, if I helped Hackner, there might still be a way to save myself and the nation. And Charlie.
Sparky swiveled in his seat as I entered the room. “KB!” he shouted. “You’re back, and you’re alive! Kindred and I were worried. We wondered if—”
I grabbed a gun from the table, and Sparky hesitated. He pulled Tim from his neck and stood. “Easy there, KB… Feel free to put that gun down at any time…”
I fidgeted with the trigger and fired a round at the floor. Darts bounced off the tile in lieu of bullets.
“Dummy Darts?”
Sparky nodded and stepped back.
“How strong?”
He stepped back again. I pointed the gun at his chest.
“Pretty strong,” he said. “Bertha added sedative to them. One Dart would knock you out for a few hours—maybe send you back a day or two.” I pictured Phoenix and Vern with several rounds of Darts in their chests. Tongues out, eyes dazed, brains scrambled—Fryers.
I kept the gun pointed at Sparky’s chest. “Show me how to work the control panel.”
He shook his head. “I just—I don’t think so, KB.”
I fired a Dart at Tim. He rolled from the panel to the floor. Sparky rushed to help him.
“Show me how to work the control panel. I need to know how to work the radio.”
Sweat collected on Sparky’s forehead and he nodded. He showed me how to work a few buttons. This one bloc
ked the Feds’ transmitters. That one hid our signals on the network. This one could broadcast a message to any receiver in the Federation.
He glanced nervously at the gun I still aimed at his neck. “It’s kinda—uh—nice showing someone around up here. Dove and Bertha are the only two even remotely interested in learning. Bertha usually just slams the controls and starts pressing buttons. And, well, Dove—bless his heart—he’s a little slow, if you haven’t noticed. Nice guy—loyal to a fault—but doesn’t take the time to ask questions. He leaves those to Phoenix. Probably why they get along so well. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure he even knows how to tie his own shoes. I think Kindred does it—”
I fired a Dart into Sparky’s neck and tightened my jaw. I didn’t have time to listen to him babble. I needed to get out of here, to save Charlie while I still had the chance. I remembered the news report I’d seen in the mansion. Two days had passed since then. There wasn’t much time left before she was sentenced and executed.
I rolled Sparky under the table and wrapped Tim’s unconscious body around his neck. The door flew open. Kindred ran in, her eyes a flurry of tears. Her outstretched arms offered me sheets of muffins. “OH MY GOD, DEAR,” she sobbed. “I AM SO SORRY ABOUT YOUR MOTHER. I DON’T EVEN KNOW—”
I squeezed my eyes shot and fired a Dart into her neck—the Dart guns were easier to fire than their bulleted counterparts. She stared blankly at me, set the muffins on the table, and fell to the ground. I felt awful. I knew she wasn’t in on Phoenix’s plan—she was too nice—but I couldn’t let her get in the way. I rolled her under the table next to Sparky, praying that even if the Feds got the others, they wouldn’t find these two.
I cleared my throat and pressed the button Sparky showed me earlier. I typed in “Chancellor’s chambers,” and the computer connected me to the appropriate radio network. “This is Kai Bradbury,” I said into the microphone, “declared enemy of the state and alleged Lost Boy. I’m tired of running. These people are not my allies or my friends. I want to surrender the coordinates of New Texas.” I paused. “Over.”
The radio went fuzzy as the chancellor’s voice came in. “This is Chancellor Hackner.” I could almost hear his twisting smile. “You have my full attention, Bradbury. You remember the conditions of our deal, I trust?”
I nodded. “You’ve got Charlie there?”
“Yes,” he said. “She’s with me right now. Go ahead and say something to your friend, Miss Minos.”
My heart pounded in my chest. My ears felt hot and my hands got sweaty.
“Hey there, Kai-Guy. I guess it’s probably not the best time to tell you I got a hell of a haircut.”
For a brief moment the numbness that had nestled in my heart vanished. I knew it would come back later, but when I heard Charlie’s voice, a flame replaced the dull burn in my heart.
I think it was love.
Crap.
The Lost Boys didn’t matter. They had never mattered. It was just Charlie and me. Soon, the nightmare with the Lost Boys would be over.
I took a deep breath and read Chancellor Hackner the coordinates.
Chapter 36
I shoved chairs in front of the table where Kindred and Sparky lay. If I was lucky, they wouldn’t wake until after the raid was done, and by then we’d all be gone, and they’d think it was still morning. They’d still be waiting for us to get home from the Ministry. Hopefully they’d stay safe and hidden. They were both vaccinated. Maybe one day they could join the general population and start new lives as honest citizens.
I imagined Sparky working at a computer store, and Kindred opening her own bakery. It’d be less exciting than the world they were used to, but it might be enough. They’d be alive and safe, and that was all that really mattered.
I shut and locked the door to the control room and wandered down to the kitchen. Mila stood slumped over the sink, refusing to make eye contact. I guessed it was better this way. Better not to look in her in the eyes again before the Feds took her.
“Sorry,” she said finally. She turned to face me.
I ignored the weight that sat on my chest. “It doesn’t matter.”
Her bright green eyes were different than any others I’d ever seen. Like me, she hadn’t been vaccinated. I thought of Bertha’s big brown eyes peering out of the windshield and realized she wasn’t either. Were their deaths a part of Phoenix’s plans, too?
Mila took a deep breath. “No,” she said, “it does matter. It probably matters more than anything. We never should have told you she was dead.”
I clenched my jaw. “But you did.”
“I think,” she said, slowly, “I think—what we all thought, what we all knew from the beginning… was that she was already dead.”
“But she wasn’t.” I could have saved her, I thought.
“No, fortunately—or rather unfortunately—she wasn’t dead, and she probably suffered for a long time because of it.”
I felt sick again. I couldn’t look at her. I reminded myself that the chancellor and his men would be here soon. To take her away. To take all the Lost Boys away. The real monsters had never been in the water. They’d never been the megalodons. They’d always been the Lost Boys.
Mila ran her fingers along the sink’s porcelain edge. “We try not to take in kids who’ve still got reasons to be alive. Kids who have their families. Kids who have their friends. We know what happens to these people when they join our crew—they’re tortured and killed.
“But what were we supposed to do with you, Kai? You grabbed my leg. It was all over then, even if I managed to kick you off. To the Feds, you were already one of us. Was I supposed to leave you in the water to die? From the moment we learned you weren’t an orphan, we knew they had your mom. The second you grabbed my ankle, she was already gone.” Mila sounded detached. I guess she was trying to distance herself from what the Caravites and the Lost Boys had done.
“Right before you regained consciousness,” she went on, “we all made the choice to tell you that your mother was dead. We decided that as a group—and even Kindred agreed.” I thought about Kindred shaking her head ever so slightly—looking out for my best interest from the start. “We didn’t want you to feel guilty about not looking for her—or worse, do something dumb to get her back.
“It wasn’t an easy decision, but we all knew it was right. We’ve all watched our parents die, and we all live with those deaths every single day… There’s a reason we call ourselves the ‘Lost’ Boys, Kai.”
I nodded, but I knew she couldn’t understand. Wasn’t capable of understanding. The way she talked—it sounded like she was reading off a flash card.
But soon the Feds would take her away forever, and I still hadn’t got the truth. I decided it was worth a shot—to be honest, asking anything at this point was worth a shot. She might not want to tell me who she really was, but it was the last chance I’d get to ask.
“How’d the Commissioner know your father, Mila? Why do you still mumble about your sister, Sarah, in your sleep? Why are you really stealing Indigo?”
It was the second question that appeared to catch her off guard. “Sarah,” she muttered, her eyes watery. The way most kids our age acted when they thought about the last day of summer.
“Sarah died when she was eight years old. The year she died, Gwendolyn Cherry was the director of the Longevity Observation Termination Telesis Operative—the ‘Lotto.’ Sarah was in the thirty-three percent of kids who don’t make it to fifteen to receive their vaccination—the group that falls victim to the Carcinogens’ effects. The group the government tell us would be saved if there wasn’t an Indigo shortage.”
“So now you steal it,” I said. “You collect the thing that could’ve saved your sister.”
“Indigo couldn’t have saved Sarah,” Mila said, shaking her head. “She was doomed from the beginning. She had weak lungs—you heard Gwendolyn.
“Every year at Sarah’s Federal physical, they told us the odds weren’t good she’d ma
ke it. They told us that, but we never believed them. We didn’t think it would really happen. I don’t think you can ever believe that sort of thing. Mom used to say the rational heart refuses to accept bad news… I guess it’s true.”
“So how—how’d it happen?” My head was spinning. I didn’t understand what was going on. The more I learned, the more questions I had.
“It happened in class.” Mila swallowed hard. “Sarah went to write something on the board—she was a good student like that, better than I ever was—and she had these big glasses. Probably two sizes too big for her head. I think my mom bought them that way on purpose. Thought she might grow into them. That if we bought something as dumb as big glasses she would have no choice but to live long enough to grow into them…
“They shattered when she hit the floor. The doctors told us her lungs closed up, and then her heart just sort of stopped. It had all been painless, they assured us. They said she was lucky to have avoided the seizures most of the other children had when it happened. I didn’t think she was all that lucky.
“Mom took it the hardest. I’d come home from school, and she’d just be sitting there in her rocking chair, frantically gluing together the shards from Sarah’s broken glasses. She’d glue them together, and then pull them apart to try again. I think she thought if she glued the pieces perfectly, Sarah would come back to get them. Like Death itself would be reasonable and allow Sarah to go back for her glasses, and Mom could see her one more time. Grief makes people believe crazy things like that.”
My legs were shaking. I leaned against the kitchen counter to hold my weight. Why was Mila telling me this now? Why hadn’t she told me anything before?
“Once Mom lost it, Dad did too. You know he worked for the Ministry of Transportation & Commerce—the commissioner in Maui gave that away. Dad probably could have had his job if he hadn’t had Sarah and me. But he did, and you only have so much time—the clock’s always ticking off your fifty years.
“So one day, about a month after Sarah’s death, I came home from school, and they told me they were going for a drive. They were all dressed up. Mom wore her pearl earrings—the kind all moms wear on special occasions—and Dad had on a red tie. I asked if I could come with them, but they said no, they’d be back soon. And Mom took Sarah’s glasses with her. That’s when I knew something was wrong.”
