“I’ve been thinking about that for a long time,” James replied. “And I believe Kilt knows, or at least suspects that we are close to the mainland.” He broke into a smile. “He may be a rube hayseed, but the guy is as quick as a snap.” James stood up, practically shaking with excitement. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. If Kilt is right, we could make our way back home.” He paced back and forth and then stopped. “Where’s the fuel cell? Do you have it with you?” He looked over Mevia’s shoulder.
“That’s the thing I wanted to talk to you about.” She sighed. “I don’t have the fuel cell with me.”
“Well,” said James. “Where is it? Back in the Clearing?”
Mevia pressed her palm to her mouth and slowly shook her head.
“Mevia,” he said carefully. “Where is it?”
Slowly she raised her arm and pointed into the wild land below. The land the Poachers roamed. “Down there.”
James blinked, his expression shifted. “Down there. As in on the beach? Where they grabbed you?”
Mevia’s stomach clenched. “No. It’s in the Poacher’s Camp.” She swallowed, her throat dry and hoarse. “Down in the hole where they kept me.”
Chapter 26
Later that evening Mevia lay awake in bed listening to the chorus of night time noises flatulating from her camp mates, most of whom were raucous snorers.
The good thing about a childhood of sharing a bedroom full of boys and girls at the orphanage was that she was primed to sleep through anything.
She thought about her and James’ predicament. Although she never in a lifetime wanted to see that horrible pit again, she knew if they could find that power module and get the GPS working, then it could guide them back to Kilt and eventually the factory. They didn’t have a map, so the GPS was their only hope if she didn’t want to lose her way on the mainland or worse, get lost at sea.
And if she could get the module then she could get Flora, especially if James were there to help her, maybe they could even recruit some of the men along for the mission.
Then Mevia had a terrible thought. If they stole Flora it would anger the Poachers and who knows what sort of retaliation they would cook up. What if she asked the Tritons about the trip and they said no? That it was too risky to make enemies? Then not only would Flora be doomed but so would their chances of ever leaving.
Not only that, but could she actually do it? Go back to that heinous place? She had only just escaped and now she was considering returning. Madness. That’s all it was. She was experiencing some sort of post traumatic lunacy or something. No, better to stay put, at least for a few months.
But then where did that leave Flora? Right at this very moment, while Mevia was warm and snug in her bed, what was Flora going through? Who was hurting her? Who was waiting in line to hurt her next? She wouldn’t survive long over there by herself. Mevia knew this the moment she crawled out of that hole. She needed to do something, and fast.
Mevia rolled over onto her side. James was sleeping along the wall just three beds away. She crawled across the cool ground, careful to avoid the pile of clay pots sitting next to Telly’s bed.
She gently shook James. “It’s Mevia,” she whispered as he fussed his way out of sleep.
“Hunh?”
“Shh.” She put her hand gently over his mouth. Behind her, Thomas stirred and then fell back asleep.
“Mevia? What--?”
“Listen.” She brought her face close to his and could smell the sleep on his skin. “I think we should go for it. You and I.”
He frowned. “You mean the module?”
Mevia nodded. “I mean the module and Flora. One mission. Just you and I. No one else will be involved. We’ll leave early one morning, soon. And then if we’re fast—and we will be fast—we’ll be back here with Flora by dark. Maybe we’ll even have heard from Kilt by then,” she added that last part to really sell her point.
The moon reflected off the whites of James’ eyes as he scanned the room. “Are you sure you’re up to going back there?”
Mevia suddenly began to shiver, but she kept her voice steady. “I have to be.”
James looked into her eyes. “So, we wouldn’t tell the others?”
She shook her head emphatically. “They’d probably shoot us down. Tell us not to go.”
James rested back on his pillow. “Yeah I thought about that.” Then a worried look crossed his face. “But then, I don’t know. It just seems, wrong.” He looked at her beseechingly. “This affects them too. Especially if we get Flora. Definitely if we get Flora.”
Mevia sighed. “Yeah. I know, but we can’t just go there to get the module and run. I can’t leave her there.” She looked him in the eye. “One goes with the other.”
James didn’t say anything, only looked away at the stone wall.
“Sleep on it,” she whispered before crawling back to her own bed.
Chapter 27
Eli and Mevia were in his Slag apartment on the morning of her arrest. They lay head to toe on top of his bed watching the ceiling fan, the spinning blades casting choppy shadows in the yellow light like frantic, waving arms. The thick acrid smell of paint enveloped them, making it impossible to think of anything else.
The silence was broken only by the periodic smack of her fingers rubbing together, sticky from spray paint.
“Sun’s coming up,” Eli said. On a typical day, this would have been a colorless observation, but today it was a warning, an accusation.
Mevia laid the back of her hand over Eli’s stomach.
He sighed deeply. “Oh Mevia.”
At least she was still wearing her leather jacket. It would be cold in jail.
“So.” Eli sat up and looked into her deep brown eyes. “How bad is it?”
She turned toward the window. “Bad.” But she was smiling when she said this. After a moment she went on, “I painted a mural of a child, a toddler, chained to a drone conveyer belt.”
Eli ran his fingers through his hair. “Ok, that’s not horrible. I mean, you did deface a government building, but I don’t think they’ll throw the book at you. We might be ok.”
“We?”
He frowned. “Yes ‘we.’ We’re in this together.”
The corners of her mouth turned up, but then faded quickly. “There’s more.” She bit her lip. “I also drew a picture of Premiere Kradle in a giant dress, lifting his skirt over the city. You know, like the dress represents the Sphere?”
“You what?” He wrapped his hands around his head. “Why would do that?”
“And I gave him a little pink pecker.”
“Why, Mevia?! WHY?”
She stood up, leaving an indention in the bed covers. “Because, it needed to be done. Somebody had to say something.”
“Yeah, and why does that somebody always have to be you?”
“I ask myself the same thing all the time.” She put her hands on her hips. “Eli, you know as well as I do that the Corporates are evil. They police us. They control our food. Our money. They’re responsible for spreading Medusa. They practically murdered the entire world.”
“Not this Medusa talk again.” He slapped his forehead. “And enough with the conspiracy mumbo jumbo too. You do realize that by saying the virus was released on purpose, you’re basically calling my parents murderers.”
“No I’m not. You know I don’t believe your parents were the ones who released it. Someone, or a group of someone’s did it. They’re the real culprits. And besides, you refer to your parents as murderers all the time.”
“True.” Eli shrugged. Mevia was the only person in the world he could talk to like this.
She paced the tiny room, her cheeks flaring, visibly getting fired up for another one of her speeches. “Regardless, even if Medusa’s release was an accident, there’s everything else that’s wrong inside of the Kradle. We slave away on assembly lines, all day, making the same drones that then turn around and police us. Then our paychecks are skinned to th
e bone by taxes that they turn around use to pay for more drones—“
“Here,” Eli interrupted, trying to distract her. “I downloaded some more of those ancient illegal art books you like so much.” He handed her a thick stack of paper.
“Thanks.” She took the pages, not bothering to look. “Don’t you see, Eli? We’re just organic units of compost chained to an infinite Ferris wheel.”
“First of all, we’re not chained. Don’t be so dramatic.”
She perched her hands on her hips. “Oh really Eli? And what sort of advanced employment opportunities have you been offered lately?”
He didn’t answer.
After a beat of silence Mevia set the pages face down on the bed. She went to bite her thumbnail—a nervous habit the two of them shared. It started in the orphanage, and neither could remember who did it first. Eli reached out and stopped her before she inserted a finger full of paint into her mouth. “And second,” he said. “Some of those drones are for combat. They go over to fight in the war so we don’t have to.”
But she was already on her soap box. “They feed us drug laced food. They control what we’re allowed read and write.”
“Alright, alright.” Eli sat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s not get into this again.”
Mevia stood in front of him. “How come I’m the only one that cares? You of all people should be angry about the food—“
Eli touched her arm. “Look, I’ll admit the food part ok? They put some sort of chemical in our food. There. Happy?”
“Thrilled.”
Speaking of which, he had almost forgot to do his morning garden check. He went into the living room, opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony. He scanned his vegetables, ensuring none were touched. The tomato vines clung to their support rod, their dusty leaves nestled against the bell pepper buds, greeny-orange in their adolescent state.
Mevia came out and leaned on the railing. “They’re all ok?”
“Yeah. I think the Bongos might be losing interest. They haven’t crashed my balcony in a while.”
“Buncha’ gutter-munchers,” she muttered. She turned around and faced Eli, leaning her elbows upon the wood railing. She stuck her torso out playfully. “Come stand by me.” Her crescent eyes glistened in a way that was both primal and kittenish. Her pink mouth was curved in that wildly seductive half smile that she knew he couldn’t resist.
But Eli just shook his head, not ready to forget his anger. He stayed close to the door. “Let’s go back inside.”
She laughed, tossing her yellow corkscrew curls away from her shoulders. “We’re only three stories up, you know.”
“It’s not just the height,” he muttered. Suddenly he thought he heard a noise from the front door. He stuck his head inside and listened. Nothing. Mevia raised an eyebrow but he shook his head.
He leaned against the glass door and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You do realize the deadline for this year’s Demonstrators is coming? As in soon?”
Mevia looked down.
“Publicly insulting the Premiere is considered an act of terror. They might send you, Mevia.”
“Do you ever stop worrying? There’s no way they’d send me. I’d have to do something much worse. Like burn down an orphanage.”
“They’ve lowered the standards for women to be sentenced. You’re flirting with danger, here.”
She crossed her arms and looked away. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Mevia.”
“Stop. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Ok?” A flash of angst ignited behind her eyes and then it passed as quickly as it came. Her mouth shifted into a smile and she tilted her head. A lock of hair fell across her face. “Now, come stand by me.”
How could she be so relaxed? “What are you going to do if they make you a Demonstrator?”
Mevia rolled her eyes. “Then I will parade before Congress and fight their killer drones like they want—“
“Stop—“
“And I will die in the dirt of that coliseum like they want.”
“Quit it.”
“And then they’ll pat the CorMand engineers on the back for making such smart drones that can decapitate a human with a single blow and all the eager congressmen will run back to their districts, raise taxes and buy a million more!” She gestured grandly.
“Stop!” He took a step toward her while keeping his fist around the door handle.
“And then all will be well in the great circle we call our Criminal Justice System. Another convict will be dead and the newest drones will be tested and in ship shape for battle.”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Eli’s head shot up, but Mevia didn’t move.
There was a second knock followed by a deep voice. “Eli Jackson!” Knock-knock! “This is the Police. We know she’s in there.”
“Go into my bedroom,” Eli said in a low voice. “I’ll talk to them.” But her eyes were calm. She stood up straight with her arms hanging to her sides against her black leggings that were splattered and streaked with spray paint: reds, blues, yellows and greys.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Go Mevia.” Eli gritted his teeth and started to walk inside.
“No,” she said pressing her back against the railing. She held out her hand. “Come stand with me, Eli. Please.”
They stood there, facing one other, as if they were in an old west showdown, except turned inside out. Eli took a step toward her.
Knock! Knock! “Eli Jackson, we’re coming in!”
He stopped, just an inch from touching her. “If we resist they’ll increase your charges.” His shoulders deflated. “I have to open it.”
“Let them break in.” Her voice was tight. “Come here.”
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Eli looked at her, pleading, but her face didn’t change. She lifted her chin the way a lover might in anticipation of a kiss.
Bang! Bang!
“They’re using the bolter to knock down the door.” Eli rushed inside.
He glanced back. She was turned, facing out beyond the apartment as if she were on a boat’s bow, a captain of her own ship.
Bang!
Eli was pushed to the ground as five, no six police swarmed his apartment and headed to the balcony, guns drawn. He yelled at them to wait, to be gentle, to tell him something, but they ignored his pleas. They dragged a handcuffed Mevia out the door. She didn’t resist, but kept her head raised, her chin up, defiant.
Eli tried to meet her eye as she was pushed out, but she wouldn’t even look at him.
As he stood in his apartment hallway watching them leave, turning the corner and disappearing, Eli couldn’t help but wonder if would ever be able to touch that hand again.
When he finally snapped out of it, he rushed inside to Loose-y and logged on.
Popping his fingers, he got to work.
After several hours of weaving in and out of networks and databases, and making decisions based on raw instinct. He found the man he was looking for and began typing his message.
That was the first time he contacted Lucifer.
Chapter 28
Eli was awakened by a city worker prodding him with a broom. He inwardly groaned. The chemical high from whatever that stuff was had worn off sometime in the night and left him feeling like a puddle of strained sewage.
He opened his eyes to the maturing blue sky where the “Morning Light” program was just climbing up the Kradle. The solars cast a bile colored glimmer across the city, bending against the buildings, its blinding rays amplified by the windows. Eli turned away from the spectacle, blinking through the crust that formed over his dry eyelids.
“C’mon buddy. Let’s move.”
Eli turned to the unshaven, middle aged man who was looking down at him like a fresh pile of dog shit. He started to ask what time it was but as soon as he opened his mouth, he rolled over and retched in the grass.
“Good God Almighty,” the man cursed.
&nbs
p; Eli’s stomach was completely empty so it was just a little water and some stomach fluids. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and hung his head between his legs. “Sorry,” he muttered.
He thought he was going to get prodded again but instead, a fresh bottle of water plopped to his feet. Eli looked up. “Thanks.” He screwed off the lid and took a long drink. “I needed that,” he said standing up.
“Yeah I think you did.”
Eli rubbed his pounding head. He could barely stand, much less walk. Thank goodness CorMand was only a few blocks away. “What time is it?”
The man checked his watch. “7:02.”
“Thanks.” Eli stretched his neck. “And thanks again for the water.”
The man, whose nametag read Tony shrugged. “No problem.”
Eli headed down the sidewalk.
“I just hope you don’t have to go into work today,” Tony said.
Eli groaned and ambled along.
As he was walking away, Tony called out. “Hey buddy!”
Eli looked over his shoulder.
The maintenance man’s poker face softened. “I don’t mean to get into your business or nothing, but,” he gestured, “whatever it is you’re doing, it ain’t working so good.”
Eli thought about this. “Thanks.”
When he made it back into his apartment he threw the door shut and fell on the couch. The cushions sent puffs of air that momentarily cooled his sweating face. He leaned all the way back until his head hung over.
Out of every day in his God given life, this was the lowest. Waking up as a reincarnated tapeworm would be a better way to start the day. His body was empty of all nutrients and in its place were enough toxins to kill a house cat. How was he going to get through work?
He turned his head toward the kitchen and eyed the delivery bin. His breath caught in his throat.
The door was slightly cracked.
Eli got up and stumbled into the kitchen. Slowly he opened the bin and found a vacuum sealed basket from NRP. Thank. You. He snatched it into his arms like a lost-and-found child and sank to the middle of the floor.
Children of the Kradle (Trilogy Book 1) Page 15
