by Carol Riggs
Peyton steps into the room and makes a quick assessment of the situation, her eyes going wide.
Misty leans against Harrel. “Mom waited to see if any of her kind survived and needed help. Nobody survived. We were about to hike to the perimeter gap and head for Fort Hope, when you guys hovered up. While she was distracted, I grabbed the dish soap to smother her with it. I missed, she slugged my face with her fist, and I tried to get the fire gun away from her. That’s when you guys came in—” She breaks into tears again.
“You did great.” Harrel slips his arms under her, careful of her burn. “Let’s get you to the medical center. You need antibiotics and a treatment with the burn condenser right away.”
“I’ll come along,” Sean says. “I do work service there and know where stuff is.”
Harrel carries her to the UHV, his arm muscles taut. I open the back door for him.
“I’ll stay and get rid of this alien body,” Peyton calls from the unit doorway. “Jay, maybe you can call Shelly on your wristcomm and ask her to drive a UHV or the garbage hovertruck over here.”
The hovertruck, yeah. A fierceness washes over me. That’s just what I need for the next thing I plan do. “I’ll ask for the hovertruck,” I say. “We’re going to take a short detour before we go to the incinerator complex.”
Peyton lifts one of her eyebrows. “Where to?”
“Zone square. The stadium.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
When Shelly arrives with the hovertruck, we load the body that was Misty’s mother, and I toss the flamers into the cab.
Shelly cackles and nabs one of them. “Dude, I gotta have this wicked thing.”
“It’s yours,” I say. “You’ve earned it.”
We whir to zone center and dock near the stadium entrance. I pull open the double doors, causing a shaft of morning light to hit the Machine’s plexifiber dome. The metal gleams underneath. As I walk toward the contraption, its spiny mutant arms look like they’re reaching for me. One of its arms is patched, a gray mesh covering the spot where I attacked it with the branding iron.
Banished. It’s a good thing to be, in the end.
Shelly steps up behind me. “Jay, you wanna do the honors and blast the biolock off this dome?”
“Definitely.” I draw my flamer and aim. A fire plug shrills out, demolishing the lock, peeling away the plexifiber in a blistering layer. We slide back the sections and expose the monster inside. It’s not breathing. Not vibrating. It looks like it’s sleeping, still waiting to take action. I can’t wait for it to be dead and silent for good.
Peyton pokes at the controls. “It has hover capacity, if I can find the right button. I saw the guards shift it once while they were polishing it and cleaning underneath.”
After another few seconds, she discovers a remote device. The entire base lifts the Machine at the touch of her finger, hovering above the flooring. She guides it to the double doors. A few silver arms scrape on top as it goes through, it’s so huge. Once it’s on the hovertruck platform and secured inside, we climb in the cab. Peyton drives this time. We breeze through the streets and out the front gates, where a couple of my friends stand guard with rifles. They salute.
A wave of exhilaration rushes through me. Progress. Change. Justice.
We’re doing it.
Up high where we sit, driving along a road I’ve never been on before, we head west. Untamed fields and clean hills and new territory spread out before me. There are groves of shaggy sable trees. Long tangles of redberry briars. Bright fields of purplebell flowers.
I notice Peyton is grinning next to me. “Something’s funny?” I ask.
“Not really. I just feel great, like I wanna keep driving forever. See the whole planet. The salty sea. Snow on the Corveira Mountains. There’s stuff out there no one in the safe zones has ever experienced. I’m tired of living in a cramped, fenced-in zone.”
Shelly makes a scornful noise. “I’ve seen one of those other colonies, a bombed-out one. There’s nothing exciting about having no plumbing and a shortage of good food to eat. I bet that’s all you’ll find, same as gutted New Paradise. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I really love being back in Sanctuary.”
Peyton elbows me in the ribs. “Want to come with me? Do ya suppose we could maybe borrow one of the zone’s precious UHVs and scout around, see new stuff?” She chuckles. “Or maybe I won’t bother to ask permission.”
I can’t help but laugh. She has a rebel’s heart, that’s for sure. And her enthusiasm is catching. “It’d be freaking cool to do something like that. Maybe we could find that remnant of old worlders that Daniel couldn’t ever find.”
“We could totally check out Rochester on the coast!” Peyton says. “Let’s do it. Once things settle down a bit in Sanctuary, anyway.”
My exhilaration sinks at her words. “Yeah, hold on. I can’t really do something like that. It’s not practical.”
Shelly grunts. “Stop being hyper-responsible and live a little, Lawton. If it makes your sensible little heart feel better, tell yourself you’re exploring to set up trade routes and reunite the planet for the good of humankind.”
“I need to be around for Rachel and Tammi. Take care of the gardens. Help keep Sanctuary running.”
“There are plenty of workers,” Peyton says. “Rachel and Tammi will be fine. They can stay with Aubrie and her brothers. You always planned on taking off to Promise City, right? This isn’t any different. Except now you know you’ll be able to come back.”
She has a point. A really good one. “Huh. I’ll think about it.”
“Check it out.” Shelly nods at a field surrounded by metal fencing. A huge plexisteel structure fills half the area. “This must be the incinerator complex. I hope it comes with instructions.”
“Harrel says it’s easy,” I say. “Hover up to the loading station and punch the buttons in order, top to bottom.”
We do exactly that. The first button activates a four-meter panel to slide up and a platform to slide out. We dump the alien body that was Misty’s mother, then load the iridescent Machine. The next button sucks them both inside. I’m about to push the final button that will drop the panel and lock it, when the Machine moves one of its spiny arms.
I yelp and jump back, biting my tongue. “Did you see that?”
Shelly swears. She draws her flamer and aims it, her hand wobbling. “Yeah, it stuck its freaking arm out the door so you couldn’t close it in there.”
“It’s alive,” Peyton hisses.
“No one even had to start it with the lever,” I say, my voice cracking. “Unless the lever’s only needed to activate the weighing mode for the Testing. Do you think it can tell it’s inside an incinerator? Maybe it’d been sleeping, and it knows we’re trying to kill it.”
“There’s an easy answer to this problem.” Shelly steadies her hand and blasts the protruding appendage with her flamer.
The arm recoils. Red-orange fire and dead-black smoke billow up in thick waves. At the same time, the Machine slashes out with another lower arm, barely missing Shelly. She shrieks and backs away. Black gunk drips onto the ground in front of the incinerator. The Machine breathes with a hoarse, oily-scented breath.
It’s a high-tech alien beast, cornered in a metal cave.
I reach for the final button again, but a third arm swings out. It snags my shirt and slices a hole right through it. I leap away. “Blast it at the same time, all together,” I say. “Go!”
Peyton fires with her laser pistol, and Shelly and I let the Machine have it with our flamers. Fire roars up, heat swells out. The alien beast crackles and smokes, its silver mesh arms writhing and turning black. A shrill vibration shudders through the air.
At last, it goes quiet. The Machine doesn’t sound like it’s breathing. Nothing moves except flickering flames and snakelike threads of smoke. The only things I hear are the thudding of my heart and the wheezing of my lungs.
I’ve had enough of this. I kick a smoldering
fragment of an appendage into the enclosure and smack the last button with my palm. “Now to finish off this evil thing’s cremation.”
We wait while the incinerator ticks and clicks and scans for living tissue. Obviously finding none after a few minutes, it roars into an abrupt start. Whatever isn’t burnable will be compacted into a dense cube and expelled into the landfill section of the field. Where it will be useless. Harmless.
“Good riddance, creepy contraption,” Shelly says with a shiver.
Yeah. I agree 200 percent.
We turn our backs on the incinerator and climb into the hovertruck. The Machine will never control us, weigh our actions, and hold the power of life or death over us again.
…
Exhausted, I sleep that night as soundly as any night I grew up taking the genomide protection pill. The hot water of the shower the next morning is a luxury. I rinse away sweat, blood, dirt, and as many foul memories as I can. In the kitchen, I cook up steaming pans of smoked bacon and scrambled eggs with cheese. Coralene’s eight-year-old brother appears in the doorway first, having slept on the couch and most likely lured by the smells of breakfast.
“Hungry?” I ask. “Wake your sisters and see if Rachel and Tammi are up.”
Rachel peers in. “We’re awake. That smells great.”
I load up plates and serve everyone. I’ll be acting as a parent substitute for both our families for a while. Across Sanctuary, we have to double up because of our losses in the battle. Temporarily, my unit holds six members.
The hoverbus transports arrive to pick up the primary education children, driven slower than usual by older students who’ve maneuvered balers and mobile threshers before, but never transports. Another special bus gathers the preschoolers and infants. Coralene’s thirteen-year-old sister gets on board to help out.
I spend the day checking the gardens, helping clean the dwelling compounds of blood and debris, and organizing a team to transport workers using UHVs. The rest of them ride their hoverbikes. I hand Sean a starter device for a UHV as Blake hovers up in Lieutenant Zemik’s gleaming maroon vehicle. He swerves into a sinking stop next to us. Peyton steps out, her right ankle now wrapped.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says.
“No problem.” Blake smirks when he notices I’m frowning. “Hey, Lawton. If you’re awarding UHVs to people, I’m keeping this one. I figure Dad owes it to me.”
I wave him off. Yeah…whatever. Hanging around my girl. Acting like he’s in charge and knows everything. Some things never change.
Peyton wraps her arms around me as he whirs away, and I give her a long kiss even though Sean is standing right there. My day is a lot warmer and brighter all of a sudden.
“Great to see you,” I say. There’s an understatement of the century.
“Holding up?” she asks.
“Hanging in there. How about you?”
“Same. Can’t wait until we run off with a UHV and head for the ocean, though.”
“Slacker pus-worms,” Sean says, but he’s smiling. “You can’t head out and abandon us here with all the work.”
“We’ll wait a few weeks to get you into a routine,” I say. “Or hey, come with us. Blake, Aubrie, and Harrel can be in charge when we’re gone.”
Sean breaks into a wider grin. “Sure, we could all take trips like that. Three or four of us at a time. It’d be a great incentive plan now that we don’t have the Testing to push us.”
“Let’s do it,” I say. “As long as the zone can spare lud-cells and food for the trip, I don’t see why we can’t rotate chances to explore.”
“Not everybody wants to go,” Peyton says. “Like Shelly. She told me this morning she wants to stick around Sanctuary and be a perimeter guard.”
Yep. Give that girl a gun and she’ll be happy.
“Then it’ll be for anyone who wants to do it. Let’s go feed the worrels,” I say, and pull Peyton toward an available UHV.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Two more days pass in a blur of reconstruction, chores, and responsibilities. Sessions for the younger kids are more chaotic than I’d like, but they’re improving. Most of my nights are plagued with nightmares of fanged aliens and flaming kids dropping to the ground. Screaming, shouting, dying. I awaken drenched in sweat. Rachel and Tammi are fairly cheerful during most of their waking hours, but weepy or way too quiet the rest of the time.
No one can rush our healing. And maybe we shouldn’t try to rush it.
On Restday evening following the uprising, it’s time for the memorial we’ve planned in the stadium. The transports begin to arrive at zone square. Shading my eyes, I stand by the double doors and watch people stream across the plushgrass and climb the bleachers. Tammi is leaning against me.
“There they are,” she says. She and Rachel run to meet Aubrie’s brothers.
Aubrie steps off the transport, holding hands with Blake. He curls his arm around her waist, and I hardly cringe at all. It’s getting easier to see them together.
Konrad gets off after them in a klutzy tangle of crutches and irritation, his leg bandaged from his laser wound. Peyton emerges next, and I’m filled with something besides nightmares and sadness as she limps over with her sister and two little brothers. Being careful of my injured arm and her cheekbone bruise, I give her a hug and a kiss.
“Where’s Leonard?” she asks.
I point into the bleachers where he sits with Harrel, Misty, and their combined siblings. Misty is smiling, tucking her thick blond hair behind one ear the way she usually does. Her other arm is bandaged inside a sling, covered in white from upper arm to fingertips. There’s nerve damage. She’ll never be able to use her arm or hand again. But at least she’s alive.
I walk inside with Peyton and leave her to join our friends in the bleachers.
In the viewing area, where the Machine used to be, rows of sable tree saplings sit. Fifty-seven of them. Waiting in temporary pots of soil. Sean, Peyton, Leonard, Shelly, and I spent half the day before in the woods digging them up and loading them into the back of a UHV.
The zone tower sounds out seven deep tones right as Daniel slips inside. It’s good to see his familiar weathered face. We exchange nods before he sits.
Conversations cease. A few babies babble. The whole zone is here for once, even kids under six. Without saying a word, I have the attention of everyone in the stadium. It’s not a job I really want, but everyone thinks I should be the one to be in charge of all this. I take a huge breath.
“The last five days have been hard,” I say. “Some of you lost brothers and sisters. Friends. We’ve all lost parents.”
I look around at the faces in the crowd. A few children are crying already, wiping their eyes and noses. Peyton curls her arms around her brothers. Tammi is totally focused on me, reflecting trust and a bit of awe. It’s encouraging. I blink to clear my eyes and keep going.
“There will be no more Testing ceremonies held here. If you haven’t heard, the Machine has been destroyed at the incinerator complex, and no one will ever be banished again.” I tap my forehead. “No one will be branded with this mark. And even though our parents turned out to be alien creatures, they took good care of us while we were growing up. More importantly, we won’t forget the bravery of everyone who died to help us be free and alive. We’ll really miss our friends and our brothers and sisters.”
Trying not to think too hard about what I just said, I point to the saplings. “Fifty-seven kids gave their lives on Wednesday night. These saplings are a sign of their sacrifice. Their families and friends can help plant these trees along the north side of the square tonight.”
A solemn but strong wave of applause breaks out.
I motion for Daniel to stand. “This is Daniel. He used to live in an outer zone colony, and he helped free Refuge and Fort Hope. He’s going to move to Fort Hope and help us keep the safe zones running, but everyone will need to pitch in. You’ve already learned how to work hard and act for the good of the community. That
won’t change.”
Daniel holds up his hand, and warm applause greets him.
“One last thing before we start the planting,” I say. “Peyton, Sean, and I are going to travel around Liberty and find other old worlders who want to teach sessions or butcher cattle or help us out in general. Meanwhile, we’ll finish the perimeter fence to protect us.” I pause, my mind going blank. I’m not used to making speeches. “Thanks. I guess that’s it.”
I dismiss everyone. The murmurs and sighs and rustlings around me sound hopeful, despite the overall sense of grief. The sun welcomes us back outside. Kids begin carrying the saplings to the holes the auto-digger created.
Daniel walks up and gives a lopsided smile, his face creasing into his odd wrinkles. “Great to see you alive, Jay.” We thump each other on our backs.
Rachel and Tammi appear at my side. I introduce them to Daniel, and he bends to shake their small hands. “I have a fun surprise for Jay, one you all can keep,” he says.
Tammi’s face lights up. “What is it?”
We follow him around the corner, where Kenna sits by her metal water bowl. When the dog sees me, she leaps toward me with a yelp, and I drop to my knees and throw my arms around her. She licks my face, her tail wagging in a crazy blur. I laugh and wipe off the slobber. “I missed you, girl. Thanks, Daniel.”
“She’s a girl like me?” Tammi asks.
“Female, yes.”
Rachel keeps her distance. “Her teeth are really big and sharp. Like the aliens.”
Ugh. Not a good comparison. “She’s gentle, don’t worry. You’ll see how she is after she lives with us for a while…although I’ll probably bring her on my trip when I go.”
“We’re going to keep her in our unit?” Rachel’s face looks uncertain but intrigued.
“Sure. Earth dwellers had dogs as pets and kept them inside their dwellings part of the time.”
Tammi inches closer. “Can I pet her like a baby goat?”
“If you let her sniff your hand first, to say hi. She likes her back scratched.”
