Keepers

by Brenda Cooper

  Lou put a hand on Astrid’s shoulder and said, “Thank you.”

  Astrid brushed her hand off and stood still, looking away. It bothered Lou all the way out to the ecobot.

  They used flashlights to climb up on the bot’s cold metal back, which glittered with a light, slippery frost. Lou grabbed the basket from Matchiko, turning to settle it in a niche they’d also piled full of blankets. Whoever had designed these machines had left room for riders but clearly hadn’t really expected them. Everything was an inconvenient distance away from everything else.

  Shuska turned on the low running lights, illuminating the uneven surfaces.

  Matchiko finished climbing up and settled, looking wide awake and perhaps even excited. Shuska sat, leaning against a metallic arm and poking at her tablet. The tablet and the machine had accepted the code word Eloise supplied, and Shuska and her tablet had been in a small and periodic fight ever since. Even now, with all her focus on the controls, Shuska swore under her breath every few seconds.

  So here they were bundled up on a nearly frozen machine with the smell of warm food surrounding them, and no way to tell if the machine was actually going to move or not. It was almost six in the morning, but the nights were long this time of year, and it would be at least an hour before the sky began to soften toward dawn.

  Shuska looked up suddenly and barked, “Hold on!”

  There was actually no need. The machine twisted one of its arms around Lou and soon it was holding her, much like the ecobot she had ridden into Portland on. She could no more fall than she could stand or otherwise move.

  The same thing had happened to the other two. Shuska had been gently pinned in front of Lou, facing her and looking at the back of the ecobot. Lou barely had time to brace before the bot took off, moving faster than she had ever seen it. The startled look on Shuska’s face implied that she hadn’t expected such a quick burst of speed either. It was managing this speed on six sturdy legs, which created a rocking gait that made Lou grab for the arm that held her, in spite of the fact that she probably couldn’t fall.

  At the end of the long drive, the bot went up and out, taking a route that she would never have thought it could manage. They passed far from town, scrabbling down steep hillsides and nearing the level of the river just as dawn spilled reds and oranges across the sky, and in a few places, an improbable pink.

  A few hawks circled them for a bit as if curious about the dull silver-and-red machine lurching across open ground.

  What other features hadn’t the ecobot bothered to show them? They crossed the Columbia north and east of Chelan at Brewster, and then recrossed over a new bridge worthy of Coryn’s attention. It took them off of established roads in the small, abandoned town of Keller Ferry. By then it was nearly lunch, and so Matchiko asked for a stop. Shuska found a small hill where they wouldn’t be seen easily.

  The bot’s arms released them, and Lou stumbled as she stood up, stiff from the long, cold ride. They all walked around a bit to shake off stiffness and then gathered on a great flat rock to eat.

  “I think we’ll be in Spokane tonight,” Matchiko said. “Maybe even before dark.”

  Shuska picked up her tablet, glancing at it quickly. “We’ve been going nineteen and a half miles an hour, average. Which means over twenty-five sometimes.”

  “And how fast does it usually move?” Matchiko asked.

  “Five to seven miles an hour.”

  “I thought so.” Lou found it hard to imagine them going so fast. The bot looked so ponderous. “If you’d asked me, I’d have said the best it can do is ten. Can it go even faster?”

  Shuska shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what else that code changed, what other governors it might have released.”

  Matchiko gave Shuska a startled look. “Do you think it will kill people now?”

  Shuska stared at the machine for a long time. “Maybe.”

  “I bet it would,” Lou muttered around a mouthful of breakfast roll. She looked at them, suddenly painfully aware of how lucky she was that they had each other. The three amigas, on an adventure. Lou smiled. “Let’s do this.”

  Shuska smiled. “I want to see what this thing can do, or more accurately, what it will do absent some restrictions.”

  Matchiko said, “I guess they’ve always been able to do this. If that’s so, why didn’t they show us this before?”

  Shuska stood up and started gathering their trash. “They’re run by an AI network. Maybe it’s afraid.”

  Lou frowned. Shuska often gave more emotions to AIs than Lou thought they had. “Don’t go yet. I wanted to ask something.”

  Both women turned to her. Standing side by side they always looked so mismatched, with Matchiko weighing maybe a third of what Shuska did, but looking more like she weighed a tenth. It made Lou smile for a moment before she grew serious again. “The information we’re taking. We know it might be used against the -o boys.”

  “By people who would destroy all of this.” Shuska shook her head. “Don’t worry about what you can’t control. We need to do this.”

  Matchiko stood stiffly, arms wrapped around herself and lips thin. “We need to do what we came out here to do. Visit wolf dens. Destroy abandoned falling-down houses full of toxins that stupid people left behind. So let’s do this and hope we can find a way to help the -o boys.” She paused for a second, smiled softly, and continued in a lower tone. “You used to tell me people die out here. They do. That’s how it is. If we spill all the people from the city out here, everything we’re doing is for less than nothing.”

  That was quite a long speech for Matchiko. She was right, but that didn’t make Lou feel any less guilty. She sighed and said, “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Coryn fidgeted nervously between Imke and Eloise in the crowded loop pod. They’d been unable to get a private car. They sat in front of three people in military uniforms, and an older woman and her companion sat beside Namina in the last row. No one directly mentioned the attacks on loops during the thirty-minute transit, but Coryn noticed that everyone except the robots looked nervous. The old woman held her robot’s hand so hard her knuckles were white.

  Like Imke and Eloise, Coryn wore simple khaki pants and T-shirts. Eloise had convinced Imke to go with little makeup, so they all looked plain and unassuming. Just travelers out for a ride in the middle of a war.

  Everyone in the pod seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief when the car slowed and docked. Shoulders relaxed, people whispered to each other.

  The Spokane station was far smaller than Chicago, with four stationary ticket robots and three wandering security-bots. By the time they climbed out, the three soldiers were already nowhere to be seen, and the old woman was making her way slowly ahead of them, her robot holding her arm to keep her steady.

  They made it through the station exit with none of the security robots taking any obvious notice, and rode an escalator to a tram.

  The sunset was a dull red wisp of light, and the air felt crisp and tasted of a coming freeze. Coryn sat back against the hard seat, scanning for the lights of Spokane. They looked small and far away. “It’s going to take us longer to get to town than it took us to get here from Seacouver.”

  “Not quite,” Eloise said. “Besides, we have time. We’re about an hour ahead of them. They’ll have to walk in.”

  “I guess they can’t just ride an ecobot into town.”

  “Not exactly.” Eloise tightened her lips and shot a repressive look at Coryn. To stop her from talking? The entire tram car they were in was empty.

  How did Eloise know where the others were right now? Coryn glanced down at the newer wristlet that she wore. The screen was annoyingly blank.

  The tram dropped into a busy building, where instructions about bikes, cars, and other transportation options flashed info at them.

  Coryn perked up. “Can we ride?”

  “That’s the plan,” Eloise said. “But no AR. Spokane doesn’t require it, and
I want to be less trackable.” Her face remained carefully blank, but Coryn thought she saw a happy sparkle in Eloise’s eyes. Maybe she liked being out of the city.

  Namina found a bank of bicycles outside of the station. Eloise passed her wrist over the machine to release three of them, and one at a time Imke, Coryn, and then Eloise pulled out bikes and tweaked the seats and handlebars to size them. As soon as they sat on them, lights bloomed on under the frames, encircling them in pools of brightness.

  Namina ran.

  At first, Imke was a bit wobbly, but in a few minutes they steadied, looked back and grinned, and promptly fell with a clatter. Coryn helped them back up, laughing, and Eloise looked grumpy. Soon, they were all back in line, the lights of Imke’s bicycle occasionally wavering from side to side.

  After about two miles, Eloise stopped at another bike rack. They parked the bikes and walked into a park, the park lights coming on as they entered, and staying on just until they passed, telling the world exactly where they were. Coryn wished they’d stop it, and suspected Eloise wished for the same.

  They found a bench and sat, and after a few minutes the lights went off. Eloise whispered, “They’re only about fifteen minutes away.”

  “Why are you whispering?” Imke whispered.

  “So the lights won’t hear us.”

  Coryn laughed, and the lights flickered on in response, which earned her a glare from Eloise. They went off again in a minute, and this time Coryn sat as quietly as she could. She had to work not to rock or get up.

  A runner went through the park, the lights flicking on and off in a string.

  When Coryn set the light above them off a second time by kicking her foot, Eloise silently stood and took her hand as if she were a child and led her out into the grass, a hundred feet or so from any of the lights. They sat on the grass. The lights went out again. Cold settled over them. From time to time, Eloise’s wristlet lit up with dull white texts.

  A light came on at the far side of the park. Another. The three figures silhouetted in the light were obviously Lou, Matchiko, and Shuska; a jitter of excitement warmed Coryn, banishing the evening’s deepening chill. They looked like the three bears from the old children’s story—hulking Shuska, willowy Matchiko, and average-sized Lou.

  Cory got up and started toward the light, feeling almost like her much-younger self, finally going to see her sister. Imke, Eloise, and Namina followed, a little behind.

  They met in a dim spot between lights that threw shadows both in front of them and behind. Coryn fell into Lou’s arms and breathed her in. She smelled of night and wood smoke and even a tiny bit of horse. She smelled like everything but the city.

  Coryn untangled herself and looked into her sister’s face. She’d seen her almost every day in a talking-pictures fashion, or as a tiny figure in satellite shots, but feeling her hand and being close was so much better. Lou had developed tiny lines around her eyes, little wrinkles surely born more of exhaustion and worry than age. Her hair was a mess, and she looked tired and a little angry, but her smile was pure happiness, and her eyes shone with joy as they met Coryn’s.

  Maybe no one but Coryn would be able to see so much in that face. But she knew her sister, and knew how hard she’d worked and how heartbreaking the last few months had been.

  Eloise pushed them apart. “We have an hour before the loop back to Seacouver. Let’s sit down, and you can tell me everything you know.”

  Lou raised an eyebrow.

  They all sat on the grass in a circle, seven women if you counted the robot, or six if you did not. Coryn held Lou’s hand as she told her story. From time to time Matchiko added a detail, but Shuska stayed silent. There was a time when she had mistrusted Coryn completely, and, given the guarded look on her face, Coryn decided she still didn’t trust her. That was fine. Coryn didn’t need to talk to her; she didn’t need to say anything. For the moment, it was enough to sit holding Lou’s hand and listening to her story.

  Eloise asked a number of questions, mostly about Paulette, clearly verifying her as the source of the information. After a while she seemed satisfied that the data was good and not a plant.

  When the story was mostly finished, Eloise held her hand out for the wristlet.

  Lou held it out, but hesitated. “The men who left town? The ones from Chelan? Can you do anything to protect them?”

  “The men who planted nuclear devices in the city?”

  Lou winced. “Only a few of them. Valeria’s children. They didn’t plant the nukes. Saving them might go a long way toward helping us in the future.”

  “Helping you with what?”

  “With this.” She waved a hand around the park, but Coryn realized she meant the Outside. “After this, after the city is safe, we’ll still be out here. Those are good men. They are the children of my friend.” She dropped the wristlet into Eloise’s hand. “Please?”

  Eloise closed her fist over the prize they’d come for. “I can promise nothing.” She glanced down at her own wristlet. “There’s twenty minutes before we need to head back to the bikes. Why don’t you two take a walk?”

  “Thanks,” Coryn said.

  “And try not to set off any lights.”

  Coryn took Lou’s hand again, and they walked off toward a dark spot on the lawn, far from paths or lights. “I wonder how much fun Eloise will have with Shuska?” Coryn mused.

  “My two can take care of themselves,” Lou replied. “I meant it about Valeria’s boys. I’d like to see them make it home.”

  Coryn swallowed. “Of course.”

  “Who’s that with you? The boy?”

  “Imke’s not a boy or a girl. They’re my . . . friend, though.”

  “Is that what’s keeping you so busy?”

  Coryn laughed. “I wish. We’ve been working the EOC, and before that we were traveling back and forth between Chicago and Seacouver.”

  “We?”

  Coryn’s cheeks grew hot. “We both have the same job.”

  “They’re not taking care of me.”

  “That’s not what I meant. We are both working for diplomats. Imke works for the Chicago mayor. And they play in two bands.”

  “Ah. Struck in love by the band,” Lou teased. “You’re such a city girl. Surely there’s more to tell me?”

  Coryn couldn’t. Not yet. What she had with Imke was too fragile to share it all. “I wish you could see my apartment. I love it. I can see the ocean.”

  “Is that robot yours?”

  “I don’t know. Julianna at least loaned her to me.” She talked about Julianna and Jake for a bit, and choked up when she told Lou about Jake’s death. “You can’t tell anyone, though,” she said.

  Lou hugged her close, and Coryn almost let herself dissolve into tears. She was so tired. But she couldn’t bear the idea of spending this unexpected gift of time with Lou crying.

  Lou cleared her throat. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s Valeria and her family. Not the runaway boys, although I care about them, too. But about an idea. Valeria calls it keeping.”

  “Keeping?”

  “Right now, outside of the towns, there’s only Wilders. Supposedly. We’re all that’s legal, anyway. Except Listeners, who mostly all got killed.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, what about small farming? Allowing some. Vegetables and chickens. Not cattle or pigs or anything big. Nothing that needs ranges, nothing that would undo the work we’re doing. People who couldn’t get a job wilding but who can’t bear the cities would have a way to go on, to be out here.”

  Coryn frowned. “Isn’t that the opposite of everything that established the wilding?”

  “I don’t think it would be right to offer land ownership. Just leasing.”

  It still seemed like going backward to Coryn. “You mean sharecropping?”

  Lou sighed. “We just might need some other way. What we’re doing might be too extreme, and might be part of why t
here’s nuclear bombs in the city. Everyone has to live there now. But I think some people could live lightly on the land these days. Valeria calls it keeping because she sees it as complimentary to wilding.”

  “You listen to Valeria a lot. Is she like Julianna to you?”

  “No.” Lou seemed to be struggling for words. “I can’t let her make all the choices. I can’t give her too much power. I’m responsible for Outside-N, and I’m more beholden to Julianna for that than to Valeria.” Lou paused and listened. An owl hooted from somewhere across the park, and Lou smiled in response. Then she continued. “She’s survived out there for a long time. I learned a lot from her. And she’s helped me. But I have to be her equal even though she’s older than me.”

  “I think I understand,” Coryn whispered.

  “Just take the idea back.”

  “Okay. Julianna told me we need to decide on the world now anyway.”

  “We?”

  “The young. But we have to get through this crisis first.”

  Lou sighed. “I know.”

  The raw tone in Lou’s voice made Coryn wish she could help her. “I can’t promise anything. About keeping. About Valeria’s boys. I’m not that important.”

  “Of course you can’t. Not by yourself. But you could come stay with us for a little this summer, after this is all over.”

  “You’re pretty optimistic,” Coryn observed.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m not sure how it will be without Jake. What I’ll do. What resources we’ll have. Any of us.”

  Lou hugged her again. “Of course you aren’t. It will be okay. There’s no other choice. We aren’t our parents, you know? We’ll find a way forward.”

  “Always.”

  They both laughed.

  Coryn’s wristlet flashed a command. Time.

  As they walked back, Coryn found herself dragging her feet. She forced herself to pick up. She needed to get back. They had to find out if the data Lou had brought them was true. And if it was, they had to find the bombs. If they didn’t find the bombs, she might never see Lou again. Coryn slipped her hand into her sister’s hand and squeezed.