David’s shoulders finally relaxed, and some color returned to his face.
“I feel bad for helping Nuri fix the bike,” I said.
He blinked. “What? Oh, no, it wasn’t you. I let her ride it.” He shook his head like he was coming awake. “Her mother will kill me.”
The rest of them clustered around David and reassured him. I took the opportunity to slink off alone.
I had the tools in place. Now I just needed a chance to use them.
Eighteen
Nuri came home the next day, a very chastened Nuri, who had to stay in bed because she had a concussion—I’d had to look up the meaning of the Neluan word for that when I heard it—along with a broken arm and two cracked ribs. They had shaved a small patch of her short brown hair off to apply the bandage that wrapped around her head, and that and her pale face gave her a dismal look. The cast on her right arm didn’t help either.
I waited until all her brothers and sisters had visited to go to see her. “You look pretty awful,” I said with the same frankness I would have used with Lorrie. “How do you feel?”
“Not too bad,” she said. They had her lying flat on her back, but someone had propped up the head of the bed so she could talk to people, and she fidgeted like she wasn’t comfortable. “But my mother won’t let me keep the bicycle.”
“You’d grow into it in a year or so,” I said. “They could just keep it for you. No one else would need it until then.”
She was the tallest kid in the house unless you counted me.
Apparently, Nuri did count me, because she looked suddenly grave and said, “It’s too bad you’re a boy. If you were a girl you could ride it.”
“If I were a girl I wouldn’t be here.” That was one thing Hobart had been sure of. No girls had ever come through from my world to Makoro.
Nuri cocked her head and looked at me. “I was always glad I wasn’t a boy, because I wanted to do things and not have to stay in the house all day. But I never thought how unfair it all was, until now.”
It was the first time I could remember someone from Egume admitting boys weren’t treated fairly. “Thanks, but I’d just as soon not be a girl.”
She nodded, her eyes so solemn and her expression so serious that she looked sort of like a patched-together, very small Buddha. “You shouldn’t have to be a girl to do stuff.”
I leaned over and gave her hair a quick rub, not pressing hard and avoiding the sore part of her head. “I agree.”
She scrunched her face up. “When I’m grown up, I’m going to fight to make new laws so that men and boys can’t be locked up.”
I smiled at her fierceness, but I took her comment seriously. She had the kind of determination that got things done, and if she stuck to her inclination, she really might be able to change this world one day. “That’s not enough, hot shot. You have to make sure they don’t get kidnapped or forced into households if they walk out in the street.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Well, she was only eleven. It wasn’t fair to expect an instant solution. “Don’t think too hard. You have a concussion, remember.”
“I know.” She sounded even more unhappy. “And cracked ribs. I can’t even fix things for at least a week.”
Which meant it would be a week before she would open her toolbox and possibly notice some of her tools were missing. I felt like a total louse for being glad I had those seven days.
FOUR days went by without anything resembling a chance to use my escape route. The problem was, I was almost never alone. I ate with the family, went to school in a group, exercised with David, and slept in a virtual dorm room. Except for the bathroom, I had no privacy and no chance to slip away unnoticed.
I was leaning back on a bench in the courtyard during a break from school when David walked outside. I could tell right away something was up. He walked fast, and he looked grim.
I sat up as he got close.
“I need to tell you something,” he said without any kind of greeting. “They’re coming for you today. They might even be on their way now.”
“Who?” I stood up so fast I felt dizzy. “Who’s coming, and where are they taking me?”
“To your new house—your own house.”
I tried to sort that out. “You mean . . .” I couldn’t make myself say it.
David nodded. “The Ocan Garun has declared you legally of age and granted a brand new Omdur household the right to claim you as a husband.” He let out a sigh. “Congratulations, Jason. Today is your wedding day.”
Between deja vu and standing up too fast, it was all I could do to stay on my feet. “How—how many women are there?”
“Seven.” His grim look eased. “At least the oldest one is only twenty-six.”
I was tempted to ask for more details, but I didn’t want to waste the time. This was it. If I was going to get out of here, it would have to be now—right now. “I—I think I’d like to go say goodbye to Nuri, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at the schoolroom window. “I’ll tell Irna and the others you won’t be coming back. I’m sure they’ll come see you off when—when the Omdur delegation gets here.” He looked me up and down. “I’ll find you a thrya to wear, too, so you make a good impression.”
“Thanks.” I headed for the door to the bedroom wing. It wasn’t Nuri I wanted to get to so quickly, it was my tools—and the access panel.
I climbed the stairs two at a time. In a way it was a good time for this to happen. Except for Nuri, everyone who went to school or a job was busy, and Lisha was out of the house for once, doing some shopping.
I went straight to the tapestry and pulled it back. The tools were still there. I pulled a nearby chair over to hold the tapestry out of the way while I started working on the hinges. The need for haste made my stomach do flip-flops, but I forced myself to stay cool. I got the first hinge unscrewed quickly, but just as I was starting on the second one I heard a sound.
I turned, and Nuri stood there in her pajamas.
I didn’t know what to say. There I was kneeling on the floor unscrewing a hinge from the wall—with her screw driver! What was there to say?
“Is something broken?” Nuri asked in a hopeful tone.
I was tempted to say yes, but then she would never have left. “No.”
“Then what are you doing?”
I took a deep breath. There was no way I could hurt her, not even to save myself. And in her condition, there was no safe way to put her out of commission. “I’m trying to get out of the house so I can go home to my own world and my own family.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute. And then she nodded. “I think you should go home.” She glanced down at the hacksaw—her hacksaw—and then up at me. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she took two steps, bent over and kissed my forehead. “Goodbye, Jayzoon.” She turned to go and then grimaced. “I think I’ll go to bed and pretend to sleep. If anyone asks me, I’ll say you read to me until I fell asleep, and I don’t know where you are now.”
I was touched. I didn’t know if it would help me any, but it was nice she was trying. “Goodbye, Nuri, and thank you.”
She padded down the hall to her own doorway, and I went back to unscrewing the hinge.
I got the door off and then put the chair back so the tapestry hung down over the panel again. Just as I came back, Nuri came out of her room. She held a coiled-up jump rope in one hand.
“You’ll need this,” she said.
She was right. If I’d been able to find one, I would have stolen a rope. “Thank you.”
She handed it to me, glanced down the hall, and whispered, “Hurry!”
I didn’t need any reminder. I ducked inside, and then I heard Nuri push the panel back in place.
As soon as she did, it got really dark.
I hadn’t thought about bringing a light. Well, I hadn’t had enough time to plan. I remem
bered the Omdur women on their way to the house, and it made me not worry about how dark it was or how funky it smelled—sort of musty, like an attic that had been closed up a long time.
I felt around the walls and discovered a series of rungs, like a built-in ladder. I put the screwdriver in my pocket, just in case I needed it again, slipped the coil of rope around my neck and one arm, bandoleer-style, tucked the hacksaw carefully inside my shirt, and started to climb. After about twenty rungs my head bumped something very solid.
“Fuck!” I held on with one hand and felt above me with the other. It was a sort of trapdoor, made of steel or some other hard metal, with hinges on one side. I found a bolt and pushed it back, but the trap door wouldn’t open.
I was afraid it had a lock that needed a key, until my hand found a second bolt. I undid that one, and sure enough the latch turned. I pushed the trapdoor upward.
Light flooded the space and temporarily blinded me. When I could see I looked up; I was inside the janullo. It was a little like a church steeple, only it was lit by periodic shafts of light every six or seven feet. A cable ran up one wall, and I figured that must be the wiring for the blinking red lights that shone from the janullo at night. But the important thing was, the rungs kept going. I started to climb, carefully closing the heavy steel trapdoor behind me.
In just a little bit I came to a vent about two feet square. It was sort of like an ornamental metal grate, all curlicues and curvy lines. When I peered through it, I could see the roof and the city skyline, and I felt a breeze moving past my face.
I hooked my right arm around the rung of the ladder and pulled the hacksaw out of my shirt.
“Ow!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I hadn’t meant to cut myself on the chest, either.
I ignored the blood and worked on wedging the tip of the hacksaw between the curlicues. It was a tight fit, but I got it at a decent angle and began to saw. It felt like it took hours but probably it was just minutes before I cut through the first curlicue. I bent the metal piece back to make the hole bigger. This gave me room to work and I sawed faster after that. Eventually I cut through all the metal pieces on the bottom and started working my way up the sides. It didn’t take long for each piece, but there were a lot of them.
Finally, I stopped. I tried to put the hacksaw back into my shirt but it fell and landed on the trapdoor with a loud clang that reverberated in the tower.
I flinched and braced myself for shouts or other sounds of pursuit, but I heard nothing. I tightened my grip on the rung with my right hand and pushed as hard as I could on the bottom of the grate with my left. It bent slowly outward. I got my breath and pushed again. It bent more. I leaned out through the opening. I could see an unfamiliar hovercar pulling into the house through the portcullis.
No time! I pushed with all my strength, and the bottom of the grate bent outward a good two feet away from the tower.
I climbed up a few rungs, and then stuck my feet through the hole. I kept my grip on the rung as I lowered myself down and only let go when I had to. I started to drop, and then my shirt caught on the grate. I fought panic and managed to pull free, and finally slid downward. After a moment my feet hit the shingles. I slithered out the rest of the way and stood triumphantly on the roof for about three seconds. I was out!
And then I started to slide.
I WISHED I had learned to skateboard. As it was, I lost my balance and tumbled down the slope of the roof until I came to a gable. I grabbed it and stopped myself from falling. I crawled on my hands and knees along the edge of the roof to the back of the house expecting any second that someone would come into the street, look up, and see me creeping along like a burglar.
When I came to an exposed truss under the eaves, I tied off one end of Nuri’s jump rope, gripped the rope a few feet below the knot, and then swung down. I could hear shouting from inside the house. They must have realized I was missing.
Damn! If I had known how many times I’d need to climb down a rope I would have paid more attention in gym. The rope burned my hands as I half climbed and half slid down it. When I got to the end, I was still ten feet in the air. I bent my knees and let go.
I landed hard. My butt hit the pavement.
“Ow!”
“Be quiet, Jason!”
I twisted around. “Marjani!”
She stood there grinning at me. She wore her old clothes, not the fancy new suit, but she looked less haggard. “This way!”
When she turned and sprinted across the street, I followed as fast as I could. Behind me I heard the steel door open and the portcullis start to lift.
Marjani had run into an alley lined on either side with garage doors. She pulled open a door and beckoned to me. After I raced inside, she followed me in and pulled the door shut behind her.
We were completely in the dark.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
“A garage I rented for the month.” I heard the laughter in her voice even if I couldn’t see her smile. “I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to get out of that house.”
“Me, too.”
My eyes were getting used to the dark. I heard shouting again, women’s voices raised, calling to each other.
“Come on!” Marjani said, and she raced over to a large, bulky shape. When she opened the door I realized it was a hovercar. I opened the other door and got in.
“How did you get this car?” I asked as she started the engine.
“This is where most of the reward money went.” She looked at me and I could see her eyes gleaming in a thin crack of light coming in through the shutters of the windows. “Hold on.”
The front end of the car nudged the doors open, revealing four formally dressed women standing in the alley with their backs to us, tugging on the garage doors on the other side of the street.
“Get down!” Marjani ordered.
I had already crouched down so low I could no longer see what was happening.
Marjani made a sharp right and sped out into the alley. I heard someone shout for us to stop, but Marjani paid no attention.
After a few seconds, I started to sit up, but Marjani put a hand on my shoulder. “Stay down! If people see a man riding in a car, they’ll pay attention.”
I felt like a pretzel, scrunched down in the seat with my knees against the dash and my torso twisted to fit into the seat without letting my head show above the bottom of the window, but I did as she said. Marjani drove like a maniac. I could see houses and trees flash past, flags flying from janullos, and patches of sky. I began to worry that I would get carsick.
“I didn’t know you planned to wait outside to help me,” I said as a distraction. “Your note didn’t mention it.”
“I didn’t decide to do it until two days after I wrote the note.” She flashed a smile in my direction. “I realized getting you out of Lisha’s house didn’t do much good by itself.”
I thought about it. “If I had known you were waiting for me, I would have been worried you’d give up.”
“I almost did give up. But I had nothing better to do, and I wanted to help you like you tried to help Esi. So I bought the car, and I waited.” She glanced over her shoulder and let out a sigh. “There. I don’t think anyone is following us. Where do you want to go, Jason?”
At last, some help that didn’t involve walking for hours. I tried to stretch without sitting up, but I couldn’t. “I want to go to your place—the place you took me to first, not the cave.”
She shot me a quick glance, her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Why? The Kabaregas burned everything. There’s nothing left there.”
“I know that.”
She kept both eyes on the road and frowned. “Then why do you want to go there?”
I told her why.
Marjani shook her head. “You’re crazy, Jason.”
“Does that mean you won’t help me?”
“No.” There was a long pause. “No, if that’s what you want, I’ll take you there.”
<
br /> IN the failing light of twilight, the squat looked pretty dismal with the pile of ashes and blackened chunks of wood strewn about in front of it. The gaping hole the Kabaregas had made by pulling down Esi and Marjani’s front wall didn’t help.
Marjani’s face looked dismal, too, when she stared at the place where she and Esi had lived.
I hadn’t realized that asking to come back here would bring back so many memories for her. It wasn’t the squat I needed, really, it was the access to the train track.
I surveyed the slope the squat was built into. The maglev track was raised on low pylons two to three feet high, but as it approached the hill where the squat was, the pylons grew taller and taller. Where the ground sloped down toward the creek, the pylons turned the track into a bridge that had to be twenty feet in the air.
“How long have we got until a train comes?”
She shrugged. “Soon. Ten minutes or so.”
Not much time! Even with Makoron minutes being longer, it still gave me just under fifteen real minutes.
I’d have to hurry if I was going to have time to work myself up into a turned-on state. I looked at Marjani. I didn’t think she’d be much help in that department. She’d never attracted me that way, and I knew quite well that I wasn’t what she was looking for. I’d have to manage with mental stimulation and whatever else it took.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Jason,” Marjani said. “You don’t sound very sure you can make the Turn, and if you can’t, you’ll be stuck on the track. The next train is an express.”
An express meant it would be going at least two hundred fifty miles an hour, which would make it hard for the engineer to stop if she saw me. All the better. “It’s the only shot I’ve got.”
Turnabout Page 21
