by Susan Kim
“Get to it,” whispered the guard.
“I’m happy to say,” Rafe said, shifting quickly, “that there was widespread rejoicing. Just like you wanted, and just like I promised.” He took a deep breath, aware that this next bit was the tricky part. “That being said, I think they were a little… well, let’s just say they were overwhelmed by the offer. Don’t get me wrong. They’re with you all the way. Only they just need a little more time to make it official.”
Rafe smiled, confident that this explanation would suffice. There was a seemingly endless pause, while he kept smiling. Soon the muscles on his face started to feel strained.
Levi murmured something, and Rafe leaned forward, cupping an ear. “Excuse me?”
Too late, Rafe realized that the words were addressed not to him but to the guard by his side. The hooded boy reached for something at his belt.
Then a lightning bolt hit Rafe’s lower spine, rocketing through his body before it exploded out of his limbs and head at the same time. Rafe was facedown on the floor, convulsing in agony, before he passed out.
As the body was dragged from his sight, Levi paced, deep in thought. He was not surprised by the boy’s incompetence, nor was he flattered by his cringing servility. As mildly entertaining as it was to see the expression on that idiot’s face change, Levi was far more concerned about the threat to his plan.
Levi had given the people of Prin new reason to respect him. Then he had made them a fair offer to relinquish the town. Of course, he could never have paid them what he promised, but, most important, he had tried to make them part of the decision.
It hadn’t worked. He could wait no longer for Sarah to deliver the book. The Excavation and Gleaning had both proven to be worthless expenditures. Shortages had grown so dire, he even heard there was a break-in at the Source earlier that day. Levi had no time to deal with the would-be thief, a girl from town, and only hoped the news didn’t get out.
Levi was beset on every side by betrayal and ineptitude, while options faded and resources dwindled.
He had been counting down to this moment ever since he had taken over the Source, nearly six years ago; now, there was no more time to spare. Over time, he had devised a Plan B, a final solution that he hoped not to use. He feared it would be too unwieldy to execute, too cumbersome, and would strain the capacity of his team of guards to the breaking point. Now there was simply no choice.
Fleetingly, he hoped there wouldn’t be too much bloodshed. Not that he cared about the people of Prin. But Levi knew that blood had a way of riling up even the most complacent of animals.
Still, if he had to, he was willing to risk chaos.
FIFTEEN
IT BEGAN EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, BEFORE THE SUN HAD EVEN RISEN.
At each dwelling, it was the same routine. There was a discreet knock at the door; two hooded guards from the Source stood outside. They carried no weapons on their belts, and they were courteous, even bland. One of them requested that the inhabitants leave their home and come with them. To the inevitable questions, the answers were always the same, vague yet reassuring at the same time:
It’s Levi’s idea. It’s for your own good. Levi will explain everything shortly. There is no need to bring anything. You will be returning home soon.
A few had more pointed questions. One or two even attempted to refuse and in private, they were more forcibly persuaded. Yet while they were confused and half asleep, most of the people of Prin felt that they could trust Levi. Docile and obedient, they came outside without a fuss, closing their doors behind them.
It was only when they were outside did some of the townspeople start to feel uneasy.
A long line of their neighbors snaked its way down the main street of Prin. As more and more people were roused from their sleep and brought outdoors, they were shepherded into the line by the hooded guards.
There were a handful of young children, some still asleep, carried by parent or guardian or trailing behind by the hand. One guard stood to the side and handed them toys from the Source: pinwheels, soap-bubble bottles with built-in wands, dolls still in their plastic wrapping. In the silence, there were delighted exclamations and sounds of laughter as the children opened their gifts and played with them.
“How long will this take?” asked a townsperson.
“Not long,” replied a guard. “Get back in line.”
In fact, the walk took longer than anyone expected, much longer, as they passed the town limits and continued west along a two-lane highway surrounded by the remains of a forest. Soon, the youngest started to cry, as the novelty of the toys wore off and the discomfort of the forced march began to mount. By now, the sun was well up in the sky. There was no water, no shade. Nearly everyone was still in their sleeping clothes and had no protection from the burning heat: no head coverings, no sunglasses. Many were barefoot. Any skin that was exposed had long since turned pink and then red. Soon blisters would form that would eventually blacken.
And still, they were forced to walk.
It was impossible to escape, even to stop for rest; guards were now positioned on both sides of the lines, and by now, they displayed bows and arrows, metal clubs, and the electrical weapons that had been hidden under their robes. Whenever those in line encountered a break in the road, a rupture of cement and underlying dirt, they were forced to scramble over it, sometimes on their hands and knees. When anyone faltered or stumbled, he or she was yanked to their feet and sent back to the line with an electrical shock or a resounding blow to the shoulders.
After four hours, the people of Prin reached their destination.
It was a large house, larger than even the grand old homes in the wealthy section of Prin, set off the road and hidden by a dense covering of overgrown trees and vines that surrounded it. On closer inspection, it seemed to have been spared not only by earthquakes, but by Gleanings, looting, and vandalism. It still retained much of its old-fashioned beauty, faded yet intact. Two large cars sat in the circular driveway, one silver and the other a dark blue. In fact, while both were dusty, they were untouched; they might never have even been Harvested. But that was not what the people of Prin were thinking about.
The entire house was surrounded by dense coils of barbed wire.
Back in Prin, a team of two dozen was assembled on the central street.
They were criminals, vagrants, and castoffs recruited early that morning by Levi’s few remaining guards, a ragtag mob of the desperate picked up from the fenced-in fields on the outskirts of town. They were all desperate to work, frantic for the meager allotment of food and water that had been promised them as payment.
According to the rough map drawn up by Levi, the work would start at the center of town and progress block by block.
Working in teams of two, the day workers entered the homes that had been evacuated. Once inside, they gathered everything they could—furniture, clothing, housewares—and carried it outside, dumping it into the street. Soon, the air was full of the sound of smashing wood and glass and plastic. If any stores of food or water were found, they were carried to a separate pile, where two of Levi’s remaining boys stood watchful guard, metal clubs drawn as they made certain that nothing was held back or hidden in pockets.
Within hours, the street was littered with detritus.
The workers were ordered to begin the next phase. Under close watch, they wielded construction tools, valuable objects found over the years at Gleanings and stored in the Source for just such an occasion: crowbars, axes, shovels, even several chainsaws and a jackhammer. Much of the cement flooring and underlying foundations in the homes of Prin were already badly cracked and irreparably damaged. With effort, it was not difficult to work the cracks open even farther, revealing ancient gravel, moldering two-by-fours, and the dirt underneath.
Unless great care was taken, an unexpected cave-in could happen in the blink of an eye, sending heavy beams, sections of floor and ceiling, and even entire buildings crashing to the ground. But there was
no time for care. There were too few people to demolish too many homes and, for Levi, speed was of the essence; his last three guards, armed with Tasers and batons, made sure of that.
Wood and plaster chips rained down on crude living rooms and kitchens as clay, shattered bricks, and rubble began to pile up in what had been people’s homes. When the walls got in the way, the workers destroyed them, smashing them with sledgehammers and sending clouds of plaster dust spilling into the street. When two townspeople were discovered hiding in their homes, the workers barely paused from their labors. In both cases, they surrounded the unfortunate resident with upraised axes and shovels; and while the screams were piercing, they were brief.
By the end of the day, the workers had broken through the basement floor in nineteen buildings along the central block.
But so far, it was useless. Despite their efforts, they had found nothing beneath, beside, or within what had once been the homes of Prin.
On the other side of town, Joseph was in his apartment, thinking about cat food.
Of everyone in Prin, he alone had no idea what was going on. He would only find out much later that Levi’s men had attempted to search his building for townspeople in order to evacuate them with the others. The precarious condition of his rotting stairwell, however, proved to be too daunting an obstacle and they gave up many floors beneath him.
Joseph was pondering his dwindling supplies. True, he was long accustomed to setting squirrel traps on his roof and down in the courtyard, but that was primarily for his own sustenance. His cats, however, were spoiled and preferred the food Esther brought them—dried rabbit, oat cakes, boiled rice. Yet he hadn’t seen his friend since her unexpected visit during the last storm. Joseph missed her company. His cats, however, were not nearly as sentimental. He could only imagine their outrage when they saw what was on the menu today.
Armed with a mallet, Joseph walked down the many flights of stairs, accompanied by the best hunters of his brood, a tabby called Stumpy and a black cat, Malawi. Although the felines were not fond of eating squirrels, killing them was a different matter. In particular Stumpy could be counted on to deliver the final blow if he lost courage. They reached the ground floor, and Joseph was about to shepherd his feline companions across the lobby and toward the courtyard door, where the traps were.
Instead, he stopped in his tracks, as did Stumpy and Malawi. They all heard it: There was a repeated banging and hammering sound.
Someone was in the basement.
These were not the sounds of a Gleaning; these were focused and purposeful in a way that made the boy uneasy. Joseph crossed the lobby and slipped inside the door that led downstairs; his cats followed. This stairway was not nearly as precarious, although it was quite dark and he had to feel his way along the wall, reaching out with his feet for each step.
By the time he reached the bottom, the noises had stopped.
Joseph headed down the long dark halls, where old corroded pipes lined the walls around them. Halfway through, he paused.
“Hold on,” he whispered.
Joseph was convinced that his cats knew several words of English or at least the meaning of certain human inflections. The animals halted, their tails flared with interest.
The boy could make out the muffled sound of voices. It seemed that more than one person was down in the basement, several yards ahead.
As Joseph crept onward, the cats behind him, he became aware of dim shadows flickering against the basement wall. Whoever was down there had a lit lamp, or given the weakness of the light, perhaps a candle.
Even without looking, he knew where the voices were coming from. His visitors were in the boiler room. His boiler room.
“This is it,” said a boy. He sounded excited.
“What do you think he’s gonna give us?” said a second.
Joseph tiptoed closer, then flattened himself against the wall near the doorway. The cats started to curl around his feet, bored of this game and wanting a new one.
He peered through the gap, careful to keep out of view. In the light of a candle stuck onto a brick jutting out of the wall, he saw two boys, their faces red from exertion and gleaming with sweat. Later, he would find out that these were two of Levi’s criminal recruits. Both were holding tools of some kind and were gazing down at the ground, staring with greed and wonder at what was revealed by a newly widened hole in a floor long damaged by earthquakes and decay.
It was a gently natural spring, caused in turn many years ago by a fissure in the earth. It had been there as long as Joseph had been in the building. In fact, it was where he got drinking water for him and his cats, collected in a plastic bucket he brought down to the basement.
Thoughtful, he pulled back from the sight, lightly kicking away the cats. It hadn’t crossed his mind that anyone might be searching for his water and that strangers would come in with shovels and picks to help find it. Then he realized with a start that no one had ever known about the spring. He wondered why this was so and discovered that the answer was simple.
No one had ever asked.
SIXTEEN
CALEB WAS UNAWARE OF THE FIRST STRAY BEAMS OF SUNLIGHT THAT illuminated the ceiling of his cell. Unable to sleep, he had spent the night working by the light of a small fire, fixing his weapon. It still lay in pieces before him, but it was nearly finished.
It had been two days. And Esther hadn’t returned.
He rebuked himself for the thousandth time for letting her go to the Source alone, even though he knew they had no other option. Caleb realized that he was far from whole. When he tried to move his left arm, a stabbing pain seized his chest, forcing the breath from his lungs and blood to seep through his bandage, now filthy and encrusted. Yet he had seen enough of Levi and his guards to understand what they were capable of. He had to go to Esther’s aid, no matter what the cost.
Caleb fit the final piece of his weapon into place. As he tested the wheel to make sure that it spun, he recalled with frustration that he had no ammunition left. He would have to collect some on his way, a time-consuming task because it entailed finding stones that were the right shape and size.
Still, there was no other choice. He hoisted his pack onto his shoulders, wincing at the effort. The sooner he was on his way, the better.
He heard the creak of a distant wooden floorboard and Caleb froze.
The day before, Levi’s guards had come and rounded up everyone hiding in the other cells. Even though Caleb had no idea why this was being done, he knew enough to hide. He had managed to pull himself up to the rafters just as a guard peered into his stall. After a cursory glance, the boy had moved on.
Now Caleb heard the sound again, faint but distinct. Someone was creeping down the hall, someone who did not want to be heard. With a pang, Caleb glanced at the smoldering remains of his fire. The smell of smoke traveled far. He had been aware of the risk last night but decided to take the chance anyway. As a result, he had apparently brought his enemy back to his door.
Caleb lay his pack down on the floor. Without ammunition, he would have to depend on his bare hands; but in his weakened state, he was not sure how much fight was in him. He would have to strike first, and strike hard.
He moved to the wall next to the door and flattened himself against it. Out in the corridor, he heard another wooden door being swung open, then after a pause, closed. Then two more at once. Then another. More footsteps. The sounds moved down the corridor, coming closer to where he stood, waiting.
Caleb did a quick calculation based on sound. There were at least two people outside in the corridor, perhaps even three.
One of them stood outside Caleb’s cell. The door swung outward and someone stepped inside.
It was not one of Levi’s guards. It was a townsperson of medium build, wearing a hooded robe. But Caleb could take no chances. Before the stranger could turn, Caleb made his move.
He clamped his right hand over the person’s mouth. At the same time, Caleb wrenched the other’s left arm u
p by the wrist, yanking it up his back as he dragged him (for it was a male) into a shadowy corner.
The boy struggled but Caleb’s crushing grip warned him not to continue.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
An eternity of several seconds passed in which the two figures stayed frozen in the dark, locked in a tableau of adrenaline and mutual fear. Then the door swung open again and a second boy, short and slight of frame, entered.
“Eli?” he said. “Where’d you go?”
There was no reply. He turned to leave but at the last second, noticed the two boys standing in the shadows. He froze in the doorway and at that moment, an older girl joined him. Turning to see what he was staring at, she gasped in disbelief.
Caleb was confused. The two were not only unarmed; they seemed surprised to see him there. If he wasn’t their intended prey, then who was?
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“We’re just looking for a place to hide,” the boy said. “Away from Levi’s guards.”
Caleb’s grip relaxed; and the person he was holding, the oldest of the three, broke free violently. He joined his friends, rubbing his shoulder as he glared at Caleb.
“What do you mean?” Caleb asked. “What’s happened?”
The boy and girl, Bekkah and Till, explained all that had happened to Prin over the past twenty-four hours. How the entire town was rounded up. The forced march. The crowded barracks outside of town where everyone was compelled to stay, without food or water. And how the three had managed to escape, by climbing up to the roof and jumping past the barbed wire when the guards weren’t watching.
Throughout, the oldest one, Eli, said nothing and stood glowering in the corner.
As he listened, Caleb realized that whatever Levi was planning, Esther was in greater danger than either of them had anticipated. If Levi had driven everyone out of Prin, this meant the situation had escalated. There was no way to tell what he was going to do next or how far he would go to make sure that nothing interfered with his plans.
