The Fox Inheritance

by Mary E. Pearson

  I said Jenna's name first when I finally had a mouth again to speak. How could I have done that to her, after all we had been through together? Why would I do that? I held her last night. I whispered poetry into her ear. For you, Kara, just for you. I desperately tried to make up for all the hurt I've caused. From the moment we woke up at Gatsbro's estate, I thought if I loved her enough, I could make up for the accident--make up for the hell we had been through. But it's never been enough.

  Is today the day she will come? Tomorrow? I don't know how long I can keep it a secret that she's here. It doesn't seem right. Jenna deserves to know. But Kara deserves the timing she wants too--after all the years she was forced to wait in dark silence, she deserves at least that much. My eyes travel over the plaza again. Is she watching right now from someplace beyond the trees?

  The waiting twists inside of me until every fabricated bone in my body is ready to snap. Where is she? One of the land pirates stands. He mumbles to the others, and Bone puts something into his hand. He walks toward the bread cart. The baker sees him coming. I read the baker's lips as he jerks his head toward the land pirate and says to a man working the cart with him, I always charge those Non-pacts double. Serves them right. Too stupid to know the difference. Make sure you do the same. The other man matches the baker's scowl. Filthy Nops, he says.

  I am already walking toward the cart. Nops. That's what that is. The Fancy Pants have their own degrading slang for Non-pacts. Yeah, some things don't change. But I'm not so filthy anymore, or tired or weak. And I'm a head taller than the baker. As I approach, the baker is already scowling at me as he takes the order from the land pirate. "Wait your turn, you--"

  I let my jacket flap wide open. He notices the expensive fabric and cut of my shirt, probably more extravagant than anything he's ever owned, courtesy of Gatsbro's expensive tastes.

  His scowl changes to a smile. "I'll be right with you, sir," he says.

  "Not necessary." I place my hand on the land pirate's shoulder. "I just wanted to tell this fellow that I know a place where he can get better bread at half the price."

  The baker's smile disappears. "Why, you--"

  "Want to make something of it? Because we can." My hand drops from the land pirate, and I step closer to the cart. I almost hope he does make something of it. Every fiber in me twists impossibly tighter. I want to snap. I want to snap more than I want a fair price. The land pirate glares at both of us, not trusting me, either. He is here for bread, not trouble.

  My hand twitches. My eyes drill into the baker's. Bread, not trouble. I take a deep breath. Focus, son, remember the goal. My face feels like it will crack, but I plaster on one of my classic Gatsbro grins--the kind I always used to get him to back off. "Unless," I say, "you want to cut your price in half. Then I would say you had the best bread in town."

  The baker is glad for the out. "You're darn right I do." He turns to the land pirate and charges him the standard price for two loaves of bread.

  "Yeah," I say, before I walk away. "Best bread in town."

  The walk home is quick.

  I feel strong. Empowered.

  More than I have felt since--

  Ever.

  Chapter 62

  I watch Miesha's lips move, but I can't decipher what she's saying. The words are chopped into pieces.

  "What is--"

  I'm here, Locke. Soon.

  If I'm able to hear Kara, she's close. The garage? My bedroom? Jenna's room? She's watching and waiting. I glance down the length of the back porch.

  "--are you--"

  Just you and me. Together. Always.

  "Listen to--"

  It won't be long.

  "--the matter."

  Miesha's voice is getting louder, but I still can't follow her words. I stare harder. Focus on her mouth, her teeth.

  Do you love me, Locke? Do you love me?

  "Look at--"

  Remember. Don't tell.

  "--what--"

  Say my name, Locke. Say it now. Say it!

  I squeeze my head with both hands. "Kara! Kara!" I scream.

  Miesha grabs my hands and pulls them away from my head. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  The voice stops. My breaths gallop in my chest. I stare at Miesha. My pulse pounds in my ears. "Nothing!" I hear the wildness of my reply.

  She still has hold of my arms. "Look at you. You look like a crazed fool. What is--"

  "Nothing, Miesha." I force calm into my voice. "I promise. It was a flashback. That's all."

  "All? I can practically see your heart pounding through your shirt." She pulls me away from the house. I don't know where we're headed, but I let her lead me. "Some flashback," she says. "You've never had an episode like that before. Let's not let the others see you like this, especially little Kayla. It would upset her." She leads me down a path and then through a tunnel of overgrown bushes that are waving in the wind. The tunnel opens into a grassy circular clearing with a bench at its center. "Kayla brought me and Dot here this morning. It's a good private place for you to pull yourself together."

  I'm thankful there is no sound other than the wind rustling the bushes and an occasional chirp from a hidden bird. Miesha sits beside me on the bench but is silent, giving me the space I need.

  After several minutes, she finally asks, "You okay now?"

  I nod. "As okay as I can be. Considering."

  She sighs. "I wish I could say it was going to get easier."

  I wish she would say it too, even if it's not true. "But I'm illegal and hunted. This is as good as it gets. That's what you're saying."

  "Not exactly." She leans back, looking up into the trees around us. "Kayla brought me and Dot here this morning to feed the birds. She says this is her favorite place in the world. You'll find your place too. Eventually."

  "My place is gone, Miesha. Forever."

  "Your old place in the world. Yes. There's no getting that back. But as bad as that may seem, there are some people who have never had as much as you--they've never had a place in this world at all and can never hope to. That's what my husband worked for. Finding a place, making a place, it takes hard work."

  I remember what she told me about getting out of prison and trying to build a new life. "What about you? Have you found your place?"

  She shrugs. "It's still a work in progress." She turns to face me. Her eyes squint, and I watch her breaths come quicker. It is rare that Miesha succumbs to nerves.

  "What's the matter?" I ask.

  She swallows and takes a slow, measured breath. "Locke, there's something else about myself I need to tell you. Something that I've wanted to tell--"

  "Is this a private party?"

  Jenna stands at the entrance to the garden.

  Miesha jumps up. "Of course not," she says. "Come in."

  Jenna joins us. She remains standing and snaps off a small lavender blossom and twists it in her fingers. Ever since I arrived, she's been dressed in basic work clothes--blue jeans and plain cotton T-shirts. This evening she has on a thin white shift that flows almost to her ankles and ripples in the wind. She looks unearthly, like a wispy apparition that has floated here on the breeze.

  "I just wanted to have a moment to talk with you before dinner," she says. "With Kayla around, I can't always talk freely. I thought you should know I've had some of my connections making inquiries ever since you came. The bad news is there's been no sign of Kara, but the good news is we have no reports of her being picked up, either. And we're fairly certain that Gatsbro doesn't have her. He's still gone from his labs in Manchester, and there haven't been any rumblings there about her. They checked his estate, and nothing there either, so that's at least some hopeful news, even if she's still missing."

  I already know she hasn't been picked up and that Gatsbro hasn't caught her. I lean forward, burying my face in my hands, so it looks like the relief that Jenna expects and also so she can't see my face and read something I can't hide. But as I rest my face in my palms, I think about the
risk Jenna has taken for us, reconnecting with a Network she had left behind. I look up at her, hopeful that she reads only gratitude on my face.

  She walks over and grabs my hand, sitting down next to me. She shakes her head. "I'm sorry I don't have more information."

  "Me too," I say. I squeeze her hand, wanting never to let go, wanting this place to feel like my place.

  Miesha walks toward the garden entrance. "Think I'll go back and see if I can help Allys with--"

  "Jenna! Locke! Someone!"

  It's Allys, and we hear the panic in her scream. We jump to our feet and run.

  We're there in seconds. It feels like my feet never touched the ground. We stop when we see Allys. She's at the bottom of the back porch steps and we follow the line of her stare down the long driveway. At the end is a small ragged figure.

  "Oh, my God," Jenna whispers. And she runs again.

  Chapter 63

  Kara.

  Kara looking weak.

  Kara with blood running down her legs and dirty mats in her once-beautiful silky hair.

  Kara shoeless and limping.

  Kara, not looking at all like she did last night.

  Did I imagine it?

  I am right behind Jenna, running down the driveway, gravel spraying out behind us. Jenna stops a few feet from her, and I stop right behind Jenna.

  "Kara?" Jenna whispers.

  I can't breathe. I can't even move my feet. At the estate I prayed this day would never come. The air between us feels like glass that's ready to shatter, like one wrong step and we'll all be thrown back to the world that spun us out of control so long ago.

  But then the air changes. It doesn't shatter or spin. It reaches out like it has fingers. It holds on to us. I watch an energy grow between the two of them--the connection the two of them had that I was never a part of. I watch the tears forming in Kara's eyes and the ones streaming down Jenna's face. I watch as Kara hobbles forward and Jenna races to embrace her. "Kara. My God. I can't believe it's you."

  And then the soft whimpering of Kara. "Jenna."

  They hold each other like they will never let go, and I stand there, stunned, wondering if I've been wrong all along, or if I'm lapsing into a dream where I'm imagining the world the way I want it to be. The anger that has simmered in Kara ever since we woke is gone. Were her threats only that--the empty rants of a trapped, angry girl? Has freedom changed her? Jenna said it would all work out. I wanted reality to flip. Has it?

  "Help me, Locke," Jenna says. "Help me carry her to the house."

  I step forward and scoop Kara into my arms. She falls limply against my chest, like she has been running for the past week instead of being here all along.

  Chapter 64

  The house becomes a beehive of activity, with Jenna and Allys issuing orders like they have done this a hundred times before, and then I realize they probably have. For years they've been helping people the Network has sent to them, but this time it is someone Jenna knows.

  Jenna orders me to take Kara to the room next to mine and lay her on the bed and tells Miesha to bring her some towels from the closet at the end of the hall. When Kayla and Dot emerge from Kayla's room, she tells them to go out to the garden to pick some lemon balm and to leave it in the kitchen. Allys is in the bathroom gathering supplies and tells me to fill a bucket with some warm water. When I return with the water, Jenna is sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the wounds on Kara's legs, and Allys is laying out supplies on the bedside table. I watch as they work, removing Kara's clothes, washing away dirt and applying medicines.

  "I'm all right," Kara whispers. "Just tired. I just need to rest. I've walked so far."

  Walked so far? What game is she playing? I lean back against the bedroom wall trying to go through the events of last night. It wasn't a dream. Was it?

  Kara looks across the room at me and says weakly, "Locke, I'm so sorry I didn't go to the cab like you told me. I couldn't find it. I was just so frantic. They were so close behind me."

  "I know, but--"

  "You understand, don't you? Please don't be angry with me."

  I stare at her, trying to match the words with the person lying on the bed. Trying to match the tone of her voice with Kara. Trying to understand who I'm looking at.

  Jenna wipes Kara's brow. "Locke," she says, clearly concerned that the delay of my reply to Kara might worsen her condition.

  I nod. "I understand."

  Kara grimaces as she tries to pull herself up, wincing like every bone in her body is cracked. Did Gatsbro adjust her sensitivity levels too, or is this all for show? But she does have injuries. I look at the blood and gashes on her legs. They are real. Where did they come from?

  She tells us that when she escaped, she got on a train to Chicago and then took another to Los Angeles. But in Los Angeles someone questioned her about her ID--they said it was stolen--and she had to run. "I've been eating out of trash cans. But that wasn't the worst of it. I was so worried about Locke and whether he made it here."

  I made it all right. Days ago. So did you. But the thoughts are all my own. She isn't even trying to get inside my head. She does look weak. Could I have lapsed and missed a few days? I look at the bottom of her feet, her delicate pink toes now blistered. How?

  When Jenna turns away to grab a fresh towel and Allys bends over to squeeze out a cloth in the bucket, Kara looks at me through clear, bright eyes. Eyes that don't look tired at all.

  "Miesha," Jenna calls over her shoulder, "could you see if they're back with the lemon balm and bring it here, but tell them to stay out for now."

  Kara briefly closes her eyes and shudders. "It was a nightmare. I ran into some wild dogs that did this," she says, motioning to her legs. "But mostly I was so afraid of Gatsbro catching up to me. He was like a madman after Locke smashed his skull with that glass--"

  I step away from the wall. "What?"

  Miesha stops midway through the door. "You're the one who hit Gatsbro?"

  Allys and Jenna pause from their work and turn their heads toward me too. The spotlight intensifies. Seconds stretch the air thin. All gazes are fixed on me, waiting for a response. The air pulls tighter. Kara's eyes bore into me.

  "Yes," I answer. The word shoots through the room like a bullet. "It was me."

  I watch their uncomfortable gestures, the twitch of Miesha's lip, the tilt of Allys's head, the shift of Jenna's eyes, reactions they work to hide and recover from quickly.

  "But he was justified," Kara says. "Gatsbro was holding us prisoner."

  "Of course," Jenna says. "Lie back, Kara. Rest. I'm going to give you something to help you."

  "But there's so much I--"

  "Shh. I know. We'll talk more later." Jenna presses a small tube to Kara's neck, and her lids almost instantly become heavy.

  "Jenna," she says, just before she closes her eyes, "I've waited so long for this day. You have no idea...."

  Chapter 65

  Dinner is quiet and unnatural. Jenna's eyes are unfocused, frequently directed at the blank wall across from her. Allys passes the herbed tomatoes that have already been around three times. Miesha takes another helping, even though she hasn't touched her first one yet. It's like we're all listening for Kara's breathing in the next room.

  "She'll sleep through till morning," Jenna says.

  My fork clinks against my plate. "Thank you for taking care of her."

  "She's my friend too, Locke." I hear the offense.

  Only Kayla, who is playing with the snap peas on her plate, and Dot, who is seated next to her, seem oblivious to the weight pressing down on the rest of us. But then Kayla looks up at me, her wide brilliant blue eyes framed in dark, silky hair. She lays her damp stubby fingers on my arm and gently pats it. She turns her head to the side and nods. "Don't worry, Locke. Your friend will be okay."

  My stomach squeezes. Her eyes swallow me up with their trust. "If you say so, Kayla, it must be true."

  She leans over and kisses my arm.

&n
bsp; "Are you done playing with your peas, Kayla?" Jenna asks.

  Kayla beams and jumps from her chair like she recognizes the signal of mercy from her mother. She carries her dish to the counter and asks Dot if she wants to play on the porch again. Dot happily obliges.

  "I think I'll join them," Miesha says, pushing away from the table. "But I'll do the dishes when the rest of you are finished." Gatsbro had a waterless dishwasher that used sound waves to clean dishes, but Jenna's is broken, and she would rather use her limited funds to put in irrigation for a new garden that will provide both food and income.

  Allys stands. "No, I can do--"

  "No," Jenna says. "Locke and I will take care of the dishes."

  Jenna's eyes drill into me. "Yeah, sure," I say to Miesha and Allys. "Jenna and I will take care of it."

  Miesha and Allys exchange a quick glance and leave their dishes on the counter before they walk out the back door to the porch.

  Jenna and I silently eat a few more bites. When she rises to take her dishes to the sink, I do the same. She runs hot water and soap into a roasting pan and begins scrubbing it. Water sloshes, and she bangs the pan against the sides of the sink. I reach over and pluck the soapy sponge from her hand and toss it onto the counter.

  "We're alone now. Get it off your chest, Jenna, before you kill the pan."

  She faces me, wiping her wet hands on her dress, and spits it out without hesitation. "Why did you lie to us about hitting Gatsbro?"

  I don't understand why she's so angry. We never talked about it before. It wasn't a detail of our escape I had ever mentioned. "I never told you before that I didn't--"

  "I mean now. Tonight. Why did you admit to hitting Gatsbro when you didn't do it? This is my life, Locke. My daughter lives in this house. It's bad enough that I'm dealing with the Network again. I need to know what's going on in my own--"

  I grab her arms. "I don't know, Jenna. I didn't see who hit him. No one did. I had lapsed and don't even remember the moment right before it happened. It could have been me. I was angry enough to do it."