by Melanie Tays
Vander is here, but he ignores me completely, sitting with some friends he knew from The City. He does a good job of keeping up a conversation with them, but every now and again he catches my eye and grimaces like he’s in pain.
Eason said to trust no one, and I’m wondering if that should include Vander as well. When has Vander ever been exceptionally trustworthy? Sending the transmission could easily be a one-person job, so I don’t really need his help. And if all he wants is to get back into The City, then he’ll be perfectly happy in the morning when he discovers I’ve deactivated the barrier field during the night. There’s no reason he has to know about it ahead of time.
“So, do you?” Fox asks, and he’s staring right at me. While I was distracted, the entire conversation seems to have shifted. Everyone at my table is staring at me, waiting for the answer to some question I completely missed. Based on the expressions they wear, it must be very important.
“Oh…I’m sorry. I was a little distracted. What did you ask?” I stammer.
“Do you think the carrots will be more popular than the corn this month?” says Fox.
“I… Well… I don’t know,” I admit. “Do you mean in The City, or here?”
“In The City,” Cresta replies. “We always try to guess what will have the highest demand each month.”
“So you can produce enough?” I ask.
They shrug. “No, it doesn’t change how much we produce. It’s just fun to see if we are right.”
I wonder if they know that all the food they send to The City now is being processed into meal rations that are specially formulated to affect certain members of the population in deadly ways. But this wouldn’t be an appropriate thing for me to point out. Mind-Misted people aren’t concerned about such things.
“What was the most popular last month?” I ask.
“Corn,” says Fox.
“And the month before?”
“Corn,” says Cresta.
“And before that?”
“Corn,” they reply in unison.
“Has it ever not been corn?” I ask.
“No, not yet,” says Fox. “But I’m betting this will be the month.”
“I bet you’re right,” says Cresta, and Ty nods in agreement.
“Yeah, probably,” I mutter.
Yesterday, under the influence of the Mind Mist, our conversation had been so engaging. Fox had made me laugh so hard that my face hurt afterward. I remember thinking that Fox, Cresta, and everyone, really, was hilarious and clever. Now they seem drab, like washed-out chalk drawings—a shadow of true intellect. I know it’s me who changed, not them. I hope someday I get to meet these people for real, not just the faintest hint of who they used to be before their minds were shackled.
This only serves to deepen my resolve to bring down the Safe Dome as soon as possible. Every person on this farm is a victim of Traeger Sterling, who has enslaved their bodies and stolen their minds. I intend to see that set right. Traeger has to pay for what he’s done—for all the people he’s transformed into little more than pleasant robots. What’s the point of saving humanity if everything human—things like choice and hope and striving—is stripped away?
The fire is getting started outside, so I take the opportunity to extract myself from the depressing conversation and head out. I plan to put in an appearance at the fire and then escape to the girls’ dormitory to wait out the hours until midnight in peace and quiet.
Vander dances with Kamella, and it’s obvious he’s enamored with her. What I can’t tell is whether she actually likes him, or if she’s just treating him with the same friendly courtesy she shows everyone. But he’s the only boy I see her hold hands with when she dances, so that might mean something.
Bretton sits nearby on a log, back leaned up against a tree stump. Every few seconds, his narrowed gaze flashes to me before fluttering away. I’m probably the only one who notices it, but that only makes it more disconcerting. I don’t want him following me, so I dance along to the music as though I haven’t a care in the world. Eventually, he starts weaving some long strands of grass together, and his eyes shift in my direction with less frequency. Only when it seems he’s finally given up on watching me all together do I finally slip away.
I make it to the girls’ dormitory with a thrilling sense of anticipation. I’ve made it, and there’s nothing to stop me from deactivating the Safe Dome tonight. It’s really going to happen!
With a smile and a bounce in my step, I go to the sink and wash my face. I brush my teeth and ready myself for bed. When the other girls come in, I want to appear to already be sleeping, even though I’ll be wide awake and waiting. The thick scent of smoke clings to my clothing. Rather than changing into the night clothes that were provided for me, I change into a clean shirt and pants and leave my shoes on as I climb beneath the covers. I want to be ready the minute I need to go.
The room is dark, all except a fine sliver of light flowing down the center aisle from the two windows, one next to the door and one at the opposite end of the building. I lay there for a few minutes, recalling some of Dad’s bedtime stories. But sooner than I would have expected, I hear the door creak open. Music still swirls through the air, and I wonder who else has stolen away from the crowd for an early night.
The door creaks closed. Footsteps make their way closer, but they’re too slow and deliberate to merely belong to one of the other girls. They belong to someone who knows they don’t belong here.
I squint my eyes and try to quiet my breathing. I hope I’m the only one who can hear the thudding of my racing heart. The round transmitter suddenly feels hot in my pocket beneath the covers.
If it’s Bretton or Vander, surely they’ll be satisfied when they see that I’m here asleep and not engaging in any secret activities. Surely they’ll turn and leave and not worry about me again until morning.
The sound of creaking floorboards ceases as someone comes to rest at the foot of my bed. I can feel their eyes burrowing into me, even though I don’t dare open my own eyes to see who it is. I just want them to go away.
Everything remains quiet and still, and for a moment I wonder if there’s anyone there at all. But then a voice breaks the silence.
“You’re such a bad actress,” says Vander.
I keep perfectly still, hoping if I ignore Vander long enough, he’ll give up and leave me alone. Instead, he comes forward and takes a seat on my bed, crushing my legs.
“Ouch!” I yell. “Get off me.”
He gasps in feigned surprise. “Emery, oh, sorry! You were sleeping so quietly that I didn’t even realize you were there,” he says, mockingly.
“Shut up,” I huff, and twist to shove him off me.
He laughs and scoots to the side so he’s still sitting on my bed, but not on top of me—an improvement, but still not ideal.
“I’m trying to sleep,” I complain. “We can talk in the morning.”
“We need to talk now,” he insists. “The sooner we get out of this place, the better. I can’t stand all of these brainless drones much longer. Dante used to be so smart, and now I just spent all of dinner hearing about how hilarious cats are when they’re chasing a string. And I had to pretend I thought it was totally amazing.” He smacks his forehead a few times to illustrate how painful the conversation was. “Where’s the box?” he asks, his tone shifting from annoyed to intent.
“I don’t have it,” I answer honestly.
“I know you went to the Supply Barn,” he says. “You’re telling me you couldn’t find it?” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Ollie walked in and caught me,” I say, offering only half of the truth.
“Then let’s go back and get it now,” he says, getting to his feet.
If I want to keep all of this a secret from Vander, going to the Supply Barn with him isn’t actually a bad idea. We’ll find the box, and it’ll be empty. He can make what he will of that, and I’ll be free to do what I need to do—alone. If everything goes according
to plan, this will all be over at midnight. Vander doesn’t have to know what’s going on to get exactly what he wants. Tomorrow, he’ll be back inside the City doing whatever it is he’s so anxious to do.
“Okay,” I agree, scooting out from beneath the covers.
If Vander notices that I’m fully dressed—shoes and all—in my bed, he doesn’t mention it. Hopefully, he’s just too distracted by the prospect of finding a way back into The City to take note of this oddity.
We make our way back to the door. I peek out the window to see if the coast is clear, only to find Bretton walking this way. It doesn’t look as though he knows where we are, but he definitely appears to be searching for something, and I’m fairly certain that it’s us.
“Go,” I whisper, pointing in the opposite direction.
We tiptoe to the back of the building and slide open the window there. I climb out without much difficulty. It’s a little more difficult for Vander, who has a good fifty pounds on me, but he makes it out. We crouch down below the window just as the door on the opposite side of the building opens.
“Emery,” we hear Bretton whisper.
We scurry around the building, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. We need to get out of sight while he’s still inside looking for me.
We make it all the way to the darkened Supply Barn without being seen. Once inside, though, we can’t turn on a light without drawing attention.
“How are we going to find it in the dark?” I say, seeing a new opportunity for evasion. “We’d better come back tomorrow when it’s light.”
“No,” he says. “I know where it is. I saw it when I was looking for my stuff. It’s right over here.”
“Great,” I say, suppressing an inward groan.
Even in the dark, he has no trouble finding the correct bin and pulling out Eason’s box. “There’s some kind of secret compartment,” he observes. “Do you know how to open it?”
I nod, and then realize he can’t see me. “Yes, give it here.”
I hold out my hands for it, and he relinquishes the smooth wooden box to my grasp. Instantly I go to work on it. Though I’ve only opened the hidden compartment twice, I replay the steps easily, as though I’ve done it a hundred times before. I push out a panel, pull out a pin, and the secret compartment slides open.
Vander presses up against my shoulder to get closer, straining to see what’s there by the minuscule starlight streaming through the window.
“It’s empty,” I observe.
“It can’t be,” he says, taking it from me and checking the contents for himself.
When he discovers that I’m telling the truth, he drops the box, letting it crash to the ground. And then his rough hands slam into me and I tumble backward, crashing painfully to the hardwood floor.
Chapter 12
Iyelp and try to get up, but Vander straddles me, pinning me down.
“Where is it?” he hisses, low and menacing.
“Where’s what?” I say, struggling against his harsh grasp to no avail.
“There was something in that box. I could hear it rattling when I saw it before. If it’s not there now, then you must have come before and taken it. And now you’re lying to me. You have no idea how important this is to me, Emery. So I’m going to give you one last chance to tell the truth. What did you find in that box, and where is it now?”
I’m so startled by this turn of events, and so desperate to get his crushing weight off me, that my brain just won’t cooperate and devise a good lie. So instead, I tell the truth.
“There was a device—the transmitter.”
“Where is it now?”
“In my pocket.”
He starts patting me down until he locates the small bulge. He relieves me of the device while still holding me immobile.
“Get off me,” I demand, squirming.
“How does it work?”
I know from experience that his way of inspecting something is to start pressing and playing with things he knows nothing about. That worked out in our favor with the antidote spray, but honestly, that was dumb luck.
“Leave it alone. It won’t work now. It has to be at the right time to sync with the signal from The City,” I say.
“Then when?”
“Tomorrow at noon.” It’s true, but not the whole truth. If I can get Vander to let me go, this will all be over long before then.
“How do you know?”
“There was a note with it.”
“Where is it? I want to read it,” he demands.
“I burned it,” I lie. “It was too dangerous to keep it, in case anyone found it.”
“Blazes! You have to be kidding me. That information was vital.”
I flinch away from his icy tone, afraid he might hurt me—more than he already is. “It’s not just vital to us,” I counter. “Eason made it clear that we can’t trust anyone out here. He said that some people will stop at nothing to keep the Safe Dome in place. I can’t let that happen.”
“We’re on the same side, Emery,” Vander says in a heated whisper, thawing the chill of his earlier words. “You can trust me.”
I think that’s probably true, but I still can’t take any chances—not when Whyle and Eason’s lives are at stake. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to sound contrite.
Outside, the sounds of music and laughter are starting to dwindle as the festivities begin to wind down for the night.
“We need to get out of here,” he says, leaping to his feet, and I couldn’t agree more. He holds out a hand and helps me up, but I don’t bother to thank him, considering he’s the one who tackled me to the ground in the first place. We tiptoe to the door and peek out into the night.
“Bretton is coming out of the boys’ dormitory now,” Vander whispers.
“Is that where he sleeps?”
“No. It’s all younger guys there,” Vander says, confirming my suspicions.
“He must have been looking for you.”
“Or looking for what I might have,” Vander amends.
He’s still clutching the transmitter, and I wonder what the likelihood is that he’ll hand it back over. Sadly, I realize that he has even less reason to trust me right now than I have to trust him.
“We can’t keep the transmitter with us,” I say. “We have to find a safe place to hide it.”
“Agreed.”
There’s nowhere on the farm that either of us considers safe. Cautiously, we check that the coast is clear, and then make a run for the nearby forest. We travel just a few yards inside the trees—far enough that our presence is completely obscured, but not far enough to get lost, even in the moonlight.
“We need a landmark that will help us find it later,” I say.
We survey the area and settle on a wide-based tree whose trunk is completely covered in green, fluffy moss. The massive tree and jutting roots will be easy to identify, even in the dark. Using a thick stick, Vander digs a hole in the space between two of the roots. I gather leaves and wrap the transmitter before placing it in the ground, hoping to keep dirt from filling any crevices where it doesn’t belong. Then we fill in the hole with loose dirt.
Vander tamps down the soil, smoothing it with his boot. “I guess that’s the best we can do for now,” he says. “When should we come back for it?”
“Eason said the signal will be sent at noon. Why don’t we meet back here when lunch starts tomorrow? There’s no sense waiting around. That only gives more time for something to go wrong.”
We make our way back to the farm, careful to avoid being seen until we’re well away from the forest. The fire is gone, and we fall in with the stragglers meandering off to bed.
***
A serene hush falls over the farm in the late-night hours. The sweet scent of the mist penetrates my senses. I found it pleasant before, but now that I know what it is, my lungs contract and fight to reject every breath as I lay awake, listening to the peaceful slumber of the other girls. Occasionally someone sighs and ro
lls beneath their covers, not quite settled and asleep.
While I wait for the hours to tick by, I have to think about something to keep myself awake. Unfortunately, nothing pleasant or comforting comes to mind. Instead, it’s all haunting images of the Medical Center filled with feverish patients, Eason writhing in pain, and my parents crying over Whyle’s lifeless body.
My mind is so occupied with these immediate concerns that it can only give the smallest corner of awareness to what will happen after I deactivate the Safe Dome. Even without the barrier, Traeger still controls The City’s central computer and all the intercuffs. Tomorrow isn’t going to be an easy day when everyone awakes to find that the Safe Dome is gone—relegated to a story for the history books—and they have to choose a side.
The enormity of what I’m about to attempt weighs on me, and I almost consider that maybe we should wait. Maybe we should try to prepare the people on the farm to help things go more smoothly. But this is already my third day in the Ash. That means Whyle received the Curosene four days ago. It may not seem like long, but when your life expectancy is being measured in weeks, it’s almost half a lifetime.
Nothing good can come from waiting. It has to be tonight. All I have to do is return to the forest, retrieve the transmitter, and activate it at midnight. It seems so simple—almost too simple. So why can’t I shake the sensation that I’m missing something—a vital detail that can’t be overlooked if I am to succeed?
Once I’m sure everyone is asleep, I carefully slip out of bed, still fully dressed. I don’t even have to pause to slip on shoes. With Eason’s note tucked securely in my pocket, I tiptoe to the door and out into the crisp night air.
The stars and a sliver of moonlight are all that illuminate my way. That’s good. If, by chance, there is anyone still awake—specifically Bretton or Vander—it’ll be nearly impossible for them to notice me creeping between the buildings.
I choose a route that takes me past the dining hall. The giant clock tells me exactly what I’d hoped for—it’s still thirty minutes until midnight. If I hurry, I can be holding Whyle in my arms tonight, embracing my parents before the sun rises. For the first time in over twenty-two years, the people of The City can awake to a real sunrise painting the sky in resplendent colors.
