The Fox Inheritance

by Mary E. Pearson

"You just told me to slow down! You want to drive?" The car swerves around a corner.

  I open my eyes. "Are we being followed?"

  "Not yet."

  I try to turn around to look out the back window, but a blinding stab in my side stops me. Gatsbro's goons knew what they were doing, all right. They didn't care how much damage there was, and it feels like plenty.

  "There! I think I see it," Miesha says. "A Star Cab is parked up ahead on the right."

  I pull myself up and see Dot's cab. "Yes, that's it. You're brilliant, Miesha."

  "That won't do me much good when I'm dead."

  "Pull behind. We'll ditch this car. Gatsbro probably already has the police coming for it."

  "Not a chance. Not with what he's mixed up in. It'll be him personally."

  She slows and parks behind Dot.

  "Do you see Kara?" I ask.

  "No, only a Bot."

  "Kara should have beat us here. It was a straighter shot through the alleys."

  "Maybe she got lost."

  Not Kara.

  Miesha opens her door. "Come on, we've got to get out of here. Now." She gets out and opens my door. I have no choice. I brace myself for shock waves. I hold out my arm, and she helps me out. The world vibrates around me. Black. White. Violent flashes of yellow. I grab the door for support, and Miesha swings my arm over her shoulder. "Just a few steps. You can do it." I hear the doubt in her voice.

  I can do it. For Kara. I have to. It will only be a matter of minutes or maybe even seconds before Gatsbro and his men show up. I draw in a breath and hold it. The doors to the cab automatically swing open. Dot has seen me and is ready. I stumble, and Miesha, like a solid wall, catches me. I force two long strides and fall into the cab, sprawling out on the back seat. My head pounds, and more salty blood swirls in my mouth. I hear the excited exchange between Miesha and Dot, feel my legs being folded in so the door can be shut, and then I hear more doors shutting.

  "Let's go!"

  I swallow the blood. "No!" I say. "We have to wait for Kara." The car begins to move. "Stop! Didn't you hear me?" I force myself to sit up. "We can't leave her!"

  Dot looks at me through the mirror. "She's not coming. I saw her run past. She looked at me and kept going."

  What? It makes no sense. I told her to find Dot.

  "Why would she do that?"

  "She was headed toward the Transgrid Train Depot. She may have thought it would provide better escape. It's a more direct route out of the city."

  "And there are plenty of crowds to get lost in," Miesha adds.

  I grab the back of Dot's seat, feeling myself slipping, the blood in my mouth swirling, my ribs tearing into whatever insides Gatsbro has pieced together for me. "How would she know about a train depot?"

  Dot turns in her seat to look at me directly. "I told her this morning. When you got out of the car to look for your house, she asked about quick ways out of the city."

  Why would she want to know another way out when we have Dot's cab? A quick way. Was she just thinking ahead? Planning for an alternate route in an emergency? Kara is always thinking ahead, plus they were right behind her. She had to keep running. She would never leave me unless she had to.

  "You have incurred damage, Customer Locke."

  I nod. Yes. Damage. My grip on the seat weakens and then I notice my hand. The iScroll. It's still sending signals to Gatsbro. "Give me something sharp. Anything. Hurry." I fall back against my seat. Miesha reaches over and hands a knife to me--a Swiss Army knife. I can't believe they still make them or that Miesha has one. I hold out my other hand, palm up. "Will cutting through it stop the signal?"

  Miesha's face wrinkles. "No, you can't--"

  "Several cuts will disable the device," Dot answers.

  I stab my flesh and draw the blade across before I can think about it. I do it three more times. Lines of red beads run together to form a small glistening pool. My temples pound. I have no strength left. The damage is finally overtaking me. The knife falls from my hand, and I close my eyes. I hear Miesha and Dot's chatter, feel something tugging at my hand, but it all melts into a black roar. I try to move my lips.

  The train station.

  Find her.

  But my voice is sucked into the roar.

  Chapter 25

  A tunnel. Long. Dark. Inviting.

  And Jenna is there.

  Her smile is slow. Understanding. She's been waiting. She holds her hand out, and I take it; we walk. For miles and miles we walk in the dark.

  "Where's Kara?" she asks.

  "Shhh," I tell her. "Sleeping."

  Jenna knows I'm lying, but she understands. She knows I need this quiet moment with her.

  I pause now and then just to look at her. She is so beautiful. More than beautiful. Innocent. Calm. My mother would like her.

  "What shall we talk about today?" she asks.

  "The sky. Describe the sky for me, Jenna."

  "It's blue, Locke. You remember that, don't you? The color of my eyes. Look into my eyes, and you will see the sky."

  I look and I see an ocean, a field of irises, and warm raindrops. I see a paint box of cerulean, aquamarine, and cobalt. I see robin eggs, breezes, and freedom. I see a wide open sky, the sky I had forgotten.

  "I love you, Jenna. I've always loved you."

  "I know," she says.

  I reach out to touch her face, and a scream shatters the quiet.

  I look back over my shoulder. "I have to go."

  She nods, and our fingers unlace so slowly that I am certain some part of me has been left behind on her fingertips.

  Chapter 26

  I'm coming. Coming.

  "Locke. Wake up. Talk to me."

  Kara. You came back. I knew you would. I knew.

  I startle awake and see Miesha kneeling over me. My shirt is gone, and tight bandages circle my chest. High above us are metal beams and a curving metallic ceiling. I am lying on the floor inside some sort of huge warehouse.

  "Where are we?"

  "Just outside of Boston, but we have to--"

  "No! The train station. We have to find Kara." I try to get up, but pain rips through my chest and I fall back down. The warehouse spins. "We have to find her."

  "Locke, she's not there."

  I close my eyes trying to shake the dizziness. "She has to be there. Neither of us had money. She couldn't buy a ticket."

  "The trains are free. As long as you have ID, you can get on and go anywhere. And she had ID."

  Free? I ease my eyes open again. "She got away."

  "I'm 99 percent certain. We passed Hari and two of Gatsbro's security force searching the streets near the station. They obviously didn't have her. She must have made it onto a train." Miesha stands. "We'll talk about this more once we're back in the cab. Dot went to get some food for us Eaters and Breathers, as she put it." Miesha rolls her eyes. "We need to get farther away. Gatsbro can practically smell us here we're so close. Turn on your side. I'll help you up."

  I follow her instructions. "Whose handiwork is this?" I say, touching the bandage around my middle.

  "Your friend Dot has a lot of interesting connections. Someone came who claimed he was a doctor. The price was right, and he didn't ask any questions."

  "How long have I been out?" I put my arm at my side and use it for leverage, trying to hold my breath as I push up. Miesha lifts under one arm to get me to my knees.

  "Not long. Maybe two hours. He gave you something. Said it would help stop any internal bleeding. It kept you knocked out, too, while he bandaged you. He said you have some cracked ribs and a deep gash on your side from one of their boots."

  I look up at her sharply. "You didn't tell him about me?"

  "No. And if he figured it out, he didn't say anything, but he may have seen the BioPerfect beneath the skin if the gash went deep enough. It's blue, you know."

  Blue? "No, I didn't know." Blue. Like I'm some kind of exotic frog.

  I swing one foot forward to stand, and pai
n grips my chest. I freeze, trying to pull in a breath. I shake my head in disgust. "In my old neighborhood"--another slow, carefully measured breath--"guys took worse beatings than this all the time."

  "Locke," Miesha whispers, "they got you good, there's no question about that. But you can overcome this. You can become stronger--"

  I jerk my head to look directly in her eyes. "Say it, Miesha! You think I'm just a boy. Isn't that what you always say? Well, you're right--"

  "No, Locke! It's not like that at all. Listen to me. There's something else you need to know. I never said much, but I did keep my ears open. I heard things I wasn't supposed to hear."

  She has my attention now. I look at her, waiting.

  "Gatsbro couldn't leave programming in you if he wanted to sell his technology. Potential buyers are too savvy and wary of that. But he could make sensitivity adjustments from the very beginning in order to control you. Why do you think you welted so badly with the rogue BeeBots? He wanted to keep you weak in some way--dependent on him and uncertain of yourself. You were six feet three inches of perfect muscle and strength for sales purposes, but he had to have something over you. All he had was your pain." She steps back.

  It has all poured out of her in one long breath. It soaks into me much more slowly. I stare at the blank wall across the room. "I see." I put pressure on my forward foot, forcing it to straighten. Pain shoots through me, but I draw my other foot up so I am standing. I pull my breaths in slowly, feeling the pain in a new way. A calculated way. Just the way Gatsbro planned it.

  Miesha talks louder, as if I can't hear her. "I overheard Hari laughing with Cole in the lab one day. He said Gatsbro was in trouble if you ever reset your sensitivity levels. I don't know what that means exactly, but it must mean you can change it. Your BioPerfect isn't like human cells--it can adapt. Make it adapt, Locke. Figure out a way."

  I shift my gaze from the wall to Miesha, her eyes wide and unblinking. For a whole year, she knew this and never told me? She knew. "Is there a bathroom, Miesha? I need to clean up."

  She shakes her head like she doesn't understand me. "Locke?"

  I stare at her waiting for an answer. She points to the corner. "Over there."

  It's only a dozen steps to the bathroom, but each one is a bolt of lightning trying to take me down. I feel Miesha's eyes drill into my back. I feel the trickle of sweat on my temple. I feel all the pain that Gatsbro wanted me to feel and some that he never could have calculated.

  I reach the bathroom, shut the door behind me, and fall against the sink for support. Sweat winds its way down my cheek. I look in the mirror at my cut lip and swollen cheekbone. The room behind me spins, and I grip the sink tighter. We were only products from day one. I touch my face. I'm a person. A human. You can't do this to humans. My head pounds with bloody red rage instead of pain.

  Like an egg. That's what I would do if he were here right now. Crush his skull like an egg and laugh while I did it. Kara was right. Do it. Do it. I should have. The manipulation I fell for boggles my mind. A lot of good 500 billion biochips did me. How could I have been so stupid? So naive? Kara never liked him or trusted him. I should have listened to her.

  I need Kara.

  I lean over the sink and splash water on my face. I will not forget this. Ever. Do you hear that, Gatsbro? Never. There is a hesitant tap on the door. "Just a minute," I call. I shake the water from my hands.

  Kara never liked Miesha either. What do I really know about her? When I exit, Miesha is waiting for me. I ask only one thing: "Where do the trains go?"

  "Everywhere." And then she frowns, understanding my meaning. "She could have gone anywhere, Locke."

  But she didn't. There's only one place Kara would go.

  Chapter 27

  "California!"

  Miesha is already annoyed with Dot, insisting she is not an Escapee every time Dot uses the term. "I'm a fool is what I am!" she says, and I try to understand how that is better than being on the run.

  Miesha sits in the front seat with Dot so I can lie down and rest if I need to. How can I rest? Seeing where I'm going is more important. We're on a deserted country road that leads away from the warehouse.

  "Are you sure that is the girl Escapee's destination?"

  "No, and we--"

  "Yes." I override Miesha's response. "I know that's where she'd go. And her name is Kara."

  Dot nods. "Kara. Then we might find her in Topeka if we hurry."

  "No! Not Topeka. Calif--"

  "All roads lead to Topeka!" Dot and Miesha say simultaneously, and they both laugh, which only makes me uneasy. Their mutual understanding instantly shifts me to outsider status.

  Dot sees that I am not smiling or laughing. She explains that the major transgrid network is like a giant X crisscrossing the country with the major Train Depot Interchange at its center in Topeka. Smaller grids fan out from there. The small gridline in Boston goes to the major line in Albany, and from there it's a straight shot to Topeka. The trains move fast, but so do the cars that travel on the same grid. Dot says with Kara having to find her way around at the Albany station and then waiting for the next train, we might be able to get to Topeka just ahead of her. If not, we can go straight from there to California.

  "No! We have to stop her in Topeka. Whatever it takes. Speed! Just do it! She can't get to California before me."

  Dot looks at me in the mirror and then, removing her hands completely from the steering bar, swivels around to face me. Her customary smile is gone. I think she doesn't like my tone. She crosses her arms on the back of the seat and looks directly into my eyes. The car continues to maneuver on its own. "You must understand, Customer Locke, that I will do anything I can to help an Escapee. This is my chance to be somebody too--the most I can ever hope to be. I will have my own story of Escape to share with others like me. And if ... if for some reason I am unable to share my story, then stories will still be told about me. I will always be known as Officer Dot Jefferson, Liberator. I have crossed the line, and for me there is no going back. Because I have tampered with Star Cab property when I retooled this vehicle, I am beyond a simple temporary Release now. I will be recycled. So your success is my success. But there are obstacles that even I can't overcome."

  I clear my throat. "Okay."

  "The Topeka transgrid lane has a fixed speed of three hundred fifty kilometers per hour. I cannot go faster or slower."

  I nod.

  "And if my Retool left any traces of Star Cab ID--they can be very inventive in how they embed it--we could be rerouted at any Security Tunnel. And if--"

  "Dot, okay, I get it. You don't need to tell me more. It's going to be tough, but--" I shift in my seat. How can I begin to explain something I don't really understand myself? And should I be explaining to a Bot at all? This whole world is crazy--I never asked for it. Neither did Kara. I thought we had escaped one hell, but maybe we were only transported to a new one. For 260 years, we've had only each other. Maybe we didn't touch or hold each other, but we had our thoughts. Kara's voice held me when there were no arms to do that. A voice, even a tormented one, is something, when it's the only thing you have outside of yourself. Kara kept me sane. I have to get to her before she makes a mistake like mine, one that can't be undone.

  Dot is still looking at me. She patiently waits for me to finish, like I haven't lapsed at all but have only inhaled an extra breath. "I trust you, Dot. But please hurry as much as you can. It's important."

  Her smile returns. "I know, Customer Locke. I know."

  Chapter 28

  One thing that hasn't changed in all these years is spring. The landscape around us is just beginning to burst into lime greens and feathery blossoms. I find it strangely comforting that some things stick to the same rules century after century, eon after eon. I guess the universe got a few things right the first time around. Shoes, on the other hand--along with roads, houses, laws, countries, and people--always seem to need improving.

  I think about what I told Dot. Trust
. It's ironic that I trust someone, something that isn't even human. I am trusting a machine. I think that's what she is. And yet she has hopes. That's what she said. How can a machine hope for something? My success is her success. I am the last person in the world anyone should pin hopes on. Or maybe she is pinning her hopes on a machine too.

  I try not to allow myself these thoughts. From the moment I woke up with a body, I've avoided even thinking about it. I had freedom, at last, when I had lost hope. I had arms to hold Kara. Real arms. I didn't care if they were made out of pigs' ears and putty. They were a gift. But now I have to wonder what kind of gift. I look at my hands in my lap, my left hand bandaged where I slashed through the iScroll. I unwrap the gauze and look at the jagged lines with bits of dried blood still clinging to them. I close my hand into a fist and open it again. My dad always used to say never look a gift horse in the mouth when something good and unexpected like free tickets to a Red Sox game came our way. Don't look to see which section they're in, Locke. A gift is a gift. I wrap the gauze back around my hand. I always trusted what my dad said, but some gifts aren't really free.

  "We're almost at the transgrid," Dot announces. "Then we can really fly."

  I notice that Miesha briefly closes her eyes and shakes her head.

  "You don't have to go, Miesha," I say. "We can drop you off somewhere. Maybe that would be better for all of us."

  She looks up at me in the mirror, and a brief second expands like I'm watching her move in slow motion. I am seeing things in a way I didn't see before. It's as though, without the coddling of the estate, my 500 billion biochips are finally waking up and doing what Gatsbro wanted them to do all along, something exceptional. A microsecond becomes a blink, a wrinkle around the eyes, a tightening of the lips. I see the hurt on her face. And then, just as quickly, she covers it with a scowl.

  "And where would I go? I have no life to go back to now."

  "You must have family. A home. Something." I am instantly ashamed that I've never asked Miesha about her life outside of my closed, privileged world on the estate.