The Renegades (The Superiors)

by Lena Hillbrand

  A cracking noise startled him, and he spun towards it, forcing one eye open the narrowest slit. Squinting fiercely against the brightness that bore through his skull like a drill bit, he detected only the outline of a huge mountain of trash, glittering malignly in the sun. He threw back the flap of the tent and dove in, grappled in the pocket of the backpack until he found his sunshades. Out again in a moment, he scanned the heap, his body alert and tensed to spring. Though he could see a bit now, he still could not see what had awakened him from the depth of his most exhausted sleep, or what had caused the wet breaking sound he’d heard only seconds before.

  “Cali?” he called out tentatively, and then louder. Perhaps she’d gone to relieve herself and a wild animal had attacked her. They sometimes found homes in places such as these. He caught a whiff of Cali’s scent and stumbled towards it, his vision still far from accurate. Through the film of the sunshades, he could see the outline of everything in addition to sensing the shape of nearby objects. Then he spotted it.

  Amid the blinding snowdrifts, a rough gash wound its way up the slope before him. He started forward, fumbling his way up the heap in pursuit. A blast of wind picked up a layer of snow and threw the frozen crystals into his face. He wiped a forearm across his face to clear the droplets from his shades. Another sheet of blowing snow rose from the far side of the pile, danced across the steep surface and flung itself at him, stinging his exposed skin. He scrambled forward a few steps, then began sliding backwards, having upset a cascade of laminate flooring scraps. The wet sheets slid from their heap, dumping Draven and a small avalanche of snow and trash before the tent’s opening. Draven leapt to his feet and clawed his way up the heap once more, using the path laid bare by the sliding trash.

  Unearthed from the protective layer of snow, the endlot’s cacophony of scents invaded his nostrils, mold and plaster and chemicals and glue and rot and paint, all of it wet from the melting of the last snowfall. Most of the trash in this sector related to construction—crumbling sheets of gypsum board, reels of flaking plastic as tall as Draven’s shoulders, worn-out insulation, siding and roofing strips and sheets, giant books of fabric samples, carpet samples, wallcover samples.

  “Cali?” Draven called. “Cali, where are you?”

  She never left the tent during the day except for short trips to relieve herself. Certainly she never strayed out of earshot. Had she run for fear he’d send her back to Princeton?

  Cresting the mountain of trash at last, he called out again. This time Cali’s voice answered, very near. He turned to find her picking her way over the heap towards him.

  “What? What is it?” she asked, glancing around nervously.

  “What are you doing?” Draven asked, noticing the soggy folder clutched under her arm. “Why are you out here?”

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. “You sounded scared.”

  “Alarmed,” he corrected her. “I was alarmed at waking up to find you gone. I thought something happened to you. What are you doing out here?”

  “That’s it? I thought a tracker found us or something. I just needed to pee, and then I saw all this great stuff. What is this place?”

  “As I said, it’s an endlot.”

  “Yeah, but you said people throw away trash here, junk. This stuff is great.”

  “Cali,” he said, taking hold of both her shoulders. “You can’t just leave while I’m sleeping. Something could happen to you. What would I do without you?”

  “What could happen to me?” she asked, smiling. “You told me yourself that no Superiors would be out during the day, and I sure haven’t seen any. Not even a car far way. And unless some runaway comes through, no humans will be here, either. So who’s going to see me? What do you think is going to happen?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Draven ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, you don’t have to like it,” she said. “But you’ll have to get used to it. I can’t sleep all day, even when it’s dark inside the tent, just like you can’t stay awake all day every day. I’ll sleep at night, and I’ll keep watch during the day so you can sleep. And if anything happens, I’ll wake you up right away.”

  Draven did not answer.

  “We’re going to live here, right? This is our new home.”

  “Perhaps, for a bit,” he admitted.

  “Why can’t we stay? You said when we left the roof, you’d find a place we could live. And this place is perfect.”

  “I want to give you a real home, an apartment. I don’t want you sleeping in a tent in an endlot.”

  “Please can we stay? It’s great here. There’s so much stuff you wouldn’t believe it. I mean, look at all this carpet,” she said, opening the folder to reveal pages of moldering carpet samples. “It would probably cover a whole apartment floor.”

  “It’s…rotting.”

  “I’ve never lived anywhere with carpet,” she said in a small voice. She glanced up at Draven from under her lashes, then quickly dropped her eyes to her fingertips, which skimmed across the surface of the carpet square.

  He sighed. “Fine, bring it back to the tent.”

  “Thank you so much.” They started back, Draven holding Cali’s arm to steady her on the shifting debris. “Listen to me. Okay?” she said. “Nothing is going to happen during the day, so you can sleep and I’ll collect things. That way I’m not just sitting around being a burden to you. If we have to leave, I’ll sleep during the day like you while we’re traveling. But now this makes more sense.” She paused, then added, “I want to fix up our new home. Can I? Please?”

  “Oh, alright,” Draven said, shaking his head. “Can you stay where you can see the tent, though? Until I get used to the idea and I know it’s safe.”

  “Sure. Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Alright. Let me carry those,” he said, scooping the soggy book from Cali’s arms. They picked their way over the snow-laden trash towards the tent. A few times when Cali began to slide, Draven caught her arm, and he managed to keep his feet. Once there, he set the thick book beside the tent.

  “Cali...”

  “What?”

  He shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Only…do not climb the heaps. Please. They shift. I’d rather not awaken to find you beneath one.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. Don’t worry so much. I’ll be okay. I just want to be doing something. This is the first time since we left that I have something useful to do. Just let me have it, okay?”

  He looked at her a moment, trying to think of some way to convince her to stay with him in the tent. The dangers of the day weren’t many for homo-sapiens, though. Even as he opened his mouth to protest her going out alone, he knew he would not prevent it. Her eyes shone with a light he hadn’t seen since he’d taken her from the garden, quite some time ago. For a moment, he was reminded of the child she had been, the child whose touch made him squeamish but whose sap so enticed him. He nodded. “Just don’t make it too…human.”

  Before he could turn away, she rushed at him and threw her arms about his neck. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she said, her arms tight around him. “I’ll make our home look so good you won’t even know it’s not an apartment. I promise.”

  “Do not make promises,” he said. “I’ve fulfilled none of mine.”

  He detached himself from her arms, though her closeness only made him want to be closer, to lift her wrist to his lips and be inside her for a moment and let her spill inside him…

  “So, I guess I’ll…just…I mean…start on this…?” she said, looking at everything but him.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll take some sleep. Already I’ve been in the sun too long... Right. I’ll just be…if you need me…”

  “Okay.”

  They both turned away at the same moment. Draven ducked into the tent, zipped it, and lay on his sleep sack pondering what had just happened, scrutinizing the strange tugging inside him, while at the same ti
me not daring to examine it too closely. The suspicion that he would rather not know after all crept over him. He rolled over and pulled the string to zip himself inside his sleep sack, into the familiar comfort of darkness where nothing strange or unknown happened, where everything remained as it should.

  He awoke when Cali entered the tent. Though she shivered and her lips had discolored in the cold, her eyes sparkled above bright, wind-burned cheeks. He’d never seen a smile so radiant.

  “Mm, how was your day?” he mumbled, dragging himself into wakefulness.

  “So great you wouldn’t believe it,” she said. “I’ve never been somewhere so heaven. You wouldn’t believe what you can find if you dig under the snow. This is so perfect, can we stay here forever?”

  “You’re freezing.”

  “No, I’m good. Just my hands are a little cold, but it’s warm in here. I’m so happy. You can’t imagine all the stuff in here. I don’t even know what most of it’s for.”

  “I’m certain I don’t either, but I can tell you what it’s not for, and that’s eating. Come and let me have you.”

  She laughed and scooted beside him, pulling her hair away from her neck. She’d already squiggled into her mummy bag, and Draven had to pull it down a bit to find her throat. Once he’d penetrated the skin, he lay still, letting her sap drift into him as slowly as it wanted to flow. She also lay quiet, letting him stroke her until he finished.

  “I could do that all day,” he said, releasing his hold on her.

  “Don’t look at what I’m doing yet, okay? I want to surprise you.”

  “Very well,” he said. “Will you take sleep now?”

  “No, it’s not even dark yet. And I’m hungry.”

  “I will have to procure some food for you.” He no longer felt the slightest guilt at this necessity. When he’d arrived in Princeton, stealing food for himself had caused him more than a bit of mental anguish. He pitied the saps he drew from, who likely already fed their masters all they could afford to lose, and the owners, most of whom likely felt the constant longing for more that he’d lived with for the past hundred years. In addition, the shame of having to steal, of taking what did not belong to him, of stealing from working members of society while he skulked in shadows and did nothing to return the debt he owed the government for his life, had gnawed at him. But somewhere along the way, that had changed.

  Since stealing Cali, he’d become not only a criminal out of necessity but a traitor to his people and his nation. Stealing her food added such a minor offense to such a great list of infractions that he hardly noticed what would have once seemed a serious matter. Now, he regarded the Law not as a necessity that held together the fabric of society, but as his natural predator. He remembered what was illegal only so he could more strenuously avoid being seen committing these acts, not because of any qualms about committing them. The Law meant little more to him now than wolves or train outlet hubs—not something to be obeyed, but rather something to be feared and avoided. So he avoided it.

  Though full dark had not yet fallen, he dressed and bid Cali farewell. Outside, the clear sky hinted at the brutal cold of the coming night. He would have liked to make a fire for Cali, but they had nothing to burn. He added fuel to his mental list of supplies she would need while in the endlot.

  The lot lay east of the city, beyond the production and transfiguration sectors and the residential sector at the outskirts. Turning north, he circled the city, following the direction that led to nicer houses. He knew the general layout of most cities, that the houses grew smaller to the south and larger to the north, where Seconds lived and worked. Scouring their neighborhoods proved difficult. After scaling several fences, Draven found little cover inside the neighborhoods. The houses offered the only protection from passing cars.

  During the night, most Superiors worked. However, many worked from home, especially in the Second Order neighborhoods. In addition, kept women or friends often lingered in the houses after the owners departed. Although at times they made sounds that gave away their presence, oftentimes Draven could not determine which houses had occupants. He could not savor Superiors as he could humans—and he could savor plenty of humans in the affluent neighborhoods he had chosen. Many houses featured detached sapien housing, tiny premade structures tucked discreetly behind the opulent facades of the owners’ homes. Trying to stay hidden, Draven ducked from one house to the next, flattening himself against the wall at one house, throwing himself into a snowdrift beside another.

  Still, after several hours, someone caught sight of him and called out. Instead of answering, Draven leapt the fence into another backyard and then another, weaving his way into the next neighborhood. This one’s houses loomed imposingly over the street, the backyards contained by tall plaster walls. Draven scaled one of these, absent of the wonder he’d once had when he climbed. Now he had matters of greater consequence to dwell upon.

  As expected, he found a sapien house in the backyard. A pre-made structure nearly identical to all those in this sector, just sufficient to sustain the most basic human life, stood surrounded by gardens covered by plastic tarps weighted with rocks. He lifted the latch and slipped into the sapien house. Their scent hung heavy around him, thick and tantalizing.

  After orienting himself, he crept forward a few steps, then stopped to listen. Nothing. Though he’d never been inside a sapien’s home before, he did not imagine they all had such adequate living quarters. This one featured three separate rooms and was nearly as large as the Third Order apartments he’d occupied most of his life—and quite a bit newer. The room he entered held a small table with benches attached, an icebox and stove, and cabinets. He crept a few more steps, stopped, listened.

  Though the saps slept in another room, he could hear four sets of heartbeats and accompanying breathing. By monitoring heart-rate, he determined that two adult and two young sapiens occupied the quarters. Casting his senses, he could estimate the size of the rooms and what purpose they served. He had entered the area where they ate. He would not have to disturb them as they slept. The third room, a small water closet, held a sizeable water tank which he imagined supplied the appliances in the structure.

  He turned his mind from exploring the quarters to his aim in entering. Confident that the saps in the next room slept, he strode across the room and opened a cabinet. On his second attempt, he located food. Without stopping to examine the contents of the cans, he began unloading them into two bags he found hanging next to the icebox. When he’d finished filling the bags, he left as quietly as he’d come.

  Scaling walls and hiding while bearing a burden proved more difficult, as usual. But he had grown accustomed to such challenges. He arrived at the endlot before dawn, and after several minutes and many attempts, he managed to unzip the tent with his frost-stiffened fingers. Inside, Cali slept, the wooden stake resting under her curled palm.

  He gently withdrew the blade and rested a hand on her shoulder. The sleep sack, slick on the outside and cold under his touch, covered all but her face. The night’s cold had crept into the tent with him, though he’d zipped it as quickly as possible behind him. For a few moments, Draven sat watching Cali through darkness so complete it obscured her features. He longed to awaken her, to show her his most recent acquisition and watch her eyes light up, watch her devour some delicious morsel he would never again enjoy.

  Instead, he set the two bags of food beside her and pawed open the backpack. He found one of the books he’d taken from Princeton months ago. While he read, he stretched out an arm and laid it in front of Cali’s face, letting the warmth of her breath bring life back to the frozen flesh of his fingertips.

  When both hands had thawed, he ate two sap packets and set out to scour the endlot as Cali did during the day. He found a few items to salvage, the most useful of which was a pair of heavy canvas over-trousers with stains covering every millimeter and holes in both knees.

  At first light, Cali stumbled from the tent to squat behind a pile of br
oken cement tubes. Draven washed his hands with snow before returning to the tent. Cali followed, sliding back into her sleep sack the moment Draven turned to zip the flap. Draven resumed his reading, letting the steady thrum of her heartbeat lull him into a drowsy state. When her breathing deepened, he reached out a hand to catch the heat that escaped her lips. The tent, warm the last evening at the close of a sun-drenched day, had lost its heat by morning.

  “What are you doing?” Cali asked.

  Draven glanced at her still form. He had thought she slept. “Warming my hands,” he said. “You do not use the heat.”

  “No, I meant…are you reading?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I explained.”

  “No, I mean, tell me the words. Tell me the story.”

  He turned to look at her. “Why?”

  “Why not? You said it’s just a story, right? It doesn’t have any big secrets I shouldn’t know about, does it?”

  Draven chuckled. “No secrets. Only I’m not sure you would understand.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I won’t ask any questions or interrupt you. It’ll be just like you’re reading it now, only I get to hear what you’re reading, too.”

  “Very well. But it’s quite…different.”

  “From what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Draven said. But he knew she’d continue asking questions if he did not explain. “It’s difficult to comprehend that world. For you, and for me, as well.”

  Cali pushed herself up on one elbow. “It’s hard for you to understand? I thought you knew…lots. Almost everything. What don’t you understand?”

  “That not so long ago, humans ruled while Superiors hardly existed, hidden from view. Your kind did not know we existed outside of stories.”

  “You’re right, I can’t imagine that,” she said. “Did things look different then? What did people do? I mean, humans.”

  “The same things we do now.”