The man smiled. It seemed genuine and made him look younger. “So, it’s Kevin, that’s correct?”
“Yes, sir, uh, Governor,” said Kevin.
“Do you know why you’re here?” the Governor said.
“No idea,” said Kevin. “I was kidnapped in the woods and brought here and now I can’t leave.”
The Governor shook his head dismissively. “No, no. I mean, do you know why you’re here in my office? Why I’ve taken you from your work assignment to come speak with me?”
“Still no idea,” said Kevin.
The Governor leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Tell me your story, Kevin. The short version.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Kevin.
“Where you’re from,” said the Governor impatiently. “Your background. How you got here.”
“Same thing I told the Captain,” said Kevin. “I lived in a Freepost. The bots torched it and killed and captured everyone. I got away, and I was minding my own business, looking for another Freepost, and then these bots”—he nodded angrily at the bot next to him—“broke my nose and knocked me out and dragged me here.”
“You’ve been inside a City,” said the Governor.
Kevin stiffened. “No,” he said.
“Son,” said the Governor, “you have a chip implant scar.”
“I’ve had that scar forever,” said Kevin. “I fell out of a tree . . .”
The Governor lowered his hands and leaned forward. “Kevin,” he said, “I am not yet completely senile, you know. Again, you have been inside a City.”
“No,” repeated Kevin. He knew he didn’t seem convincing, but he didn’t trust this man—why should he, when he was being held here as a prisoner?—and his instincts told him not to talk. If he admitted that he had been in the City, he’d have to explain how he got out. The Governor sighed. “Okay, I’ll let that go for now. However, I have heard reports that you have some technical knowledge. Correct?”
“Just a bit,” said Kevin. “I helped a little with the power grid back at the Freepost.”
The Governor nodded, then pointed down at the pile of circuitry on his desk. “Fix this,” he said.
“I don’t understand . . .” began Kevin.
“Kevin,” said the Governor, “understand this. The Island is home. This”—he gestured broadly with his hands—“is our haven. This is where we survive and even raise our families, safe from the Cities. But to make it a safe home, we all have to contribute. We work on the Wall. We guard. We hunt. We cook. We repair. You will work here. You might as well keep it interesting. Planing lumber gets boring.” He pointed again at the circuitry and held his scope glasses and a small nanoburner toward Kevin. “Fix it.”
Kevin looked down at the circuits. It was obvious, up close, what it was—just a simple power grid loop, probably from a small device like a cooking panel. He didn’t even need the scope glasses to see the problem. Kevin grabbed the nanoburner, the size of a tweezer, and snipped apart the connection where the ground was mistakenly looped in with the live relay, then with two more quick twists reset the loop into the proper configuration. Then he threw the tool onto the table, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at the Governor.
The Governor raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t even need the glasses, did you?” he said. “You’ve got young eyes still.” He nodded. “Good. Thank you for that much honesty, at least. Now, you will return to your work group. However, you obviously have technical skills that are important here on my Island.” He nodded at the bot. “23 is now your supervisor. It will begin incorporating more tech work into your workload.” He turned to the bot. “Understood, 23?”
“Yes, Governor,” said the bot.
“Good,” said the Governor.
“Governor,” said Kevin, “where did you get all these bots?”
The Governor hesitated, frowning, and Kevin wondered if he was angry at the question. “I built them,” he said finally, then waved his fingers at Kevin and 23. “Now go.”
CHAPTER 13
THE ROOM WAS WHITE, LIKE A CLOUD. THAT’S EXACTLY HOW IT FELT, Cass thought—like she was floating inside a cloud. She was calm. Content. Peaceful. She had no questions, no fears, no doubts. All was well with the world, and her place in it.
Today she would be graduating and joining the City as a productive Citizen. She felt a strong, quiet pride—not arrogance, but joy in knowing that the Lecturers had deemed her worthy of their trust. She waited patiently on the edge of the metal bed, hands on her knees, wearing the white dress they had given her.
Time passed. How much, Cass didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. She waited.
The door opened, and a Lecturer entered, and Cass stood, smiling. “Greetings, Lecturer.”
“Greetings, Citizen.”
Cass felt a rush of pleasure at being called “Citizen.” She had earned that title. It had been hard work. She felt a moment of confusion, murky half-memories of pain and resistance, and she frowned but quickly pushed the dark thoughts away. This was her day of celebration. Nothing would ruin it.
“Citizen,” continued the Lecturer bot, “As you know, today you will be joining the community as a productive member of our society. We have further good news.”
Cass was more confused than excited. She honestly couldn’t imagine what else could possibly make this day any better. Still, she nodded, and waited patiently for her teacher to continue.
“As a matter of protocol,” said the bot, “when a rebellious human such as yourself is brought in for re-education from outside the City, we sample DNA to properly maintain our Citizen records. Generally, familial connections from outside the City are irrelevant; however, occasionally a new Citizen such as yourself is found to be genetically linked to preexisting Citizens. In your case, it has been determined that, given your success in re-education, and given the longtime good standing of your relatives, a reunion would be acceptable and efficient.” The bot turned to the hallway. “Enter now,” it said.
A middle-aged man and woman and a girl a few years younger than Cass entered the room. The man and woman were smiling broadly and seemed close to tears. The girl stared at Cass with a neutral expression, as if she weren’t sure what to make of her.
“Your biological mother and father,” said the Lecturer. “And your sister.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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CHAPTER 14
NICK AND ERICA WALKED FOR AN HOUR IN SILENCE, UNTIL NICK finally couldn’t hold back his anger anymore and threw his pack down and kicked it, then squatted, holding his head in his hands. It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming. He had nothing. Nowhere to go. No plan.
“Come on,” said Erica. “We should keep moving.”
“Just go,” said Nick. “I’m done.”
“Quite the pity party you’re throwing,” said Erica.
Nick surged to his feet. “What the hell do you know?” he yelled. “Who the hell are you, anyway? You don’t care about what happened back there?” He pointed angrily in the direction they had come from. “They’re all dead!” He felt a tear running down his cheek from his real eye, and he twisted away from Erica, not wanting her to see.
“I’m tired too,” she said quietly. “But I’m not done.”
Nick turned back to look at her but said nothing.
“I am done moving from Freepost to Freepost, though,” Erica said. “They’re just going to blow them all up eventually.”
“So what, then?” said Nick.
“I’m going to join the rebels. Kill some bots.” She stepped closer to Nick. “You do whatever you want. Be done if you’re done. Sit here and wait to die. It’s not my problem. But I can find the rebels—I know a few of their hideouts.” She shrugged. “They might even know something about your brother. I’ll let you tag along, if you’ve got any fight left in you.
”
Nick fought to control the almost overwhelming jumble of emotions he felt—anger, despair, frustration. Erica watched him intently, looking more impatient than sympathetic. Finally Nick nodded and picked up his pack. It was a plan. Not much of one, but at least it was something. “Lead on,” he said quietly. “Let’s go kill some bots.”
They continued southwest the rest of the day, then made camp when it began to grow dark. Erica cooked a squirrel that she had shot, expertly skinning and cleaning it with her hunting knife and then skewering it with a long stick.
They ate in silence. When they were done, Nick smothered the small fire with dirt. It was dusk, and the air had grown a bit chilly. He laid out his bedroll and sat down. Erica set her bedroll down next to his, then walked over to a nearby tree and sat with her back against it. “I’ll take the first watch,” she said. “Get some sleep.”
“Not tired yet,” Nick said.
Erica shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
The sky grew dark. Nick watched Erica. In the moonlight, she became a vague shape against the tree, her legs tucked under her. She unsheathed her hunting knife and began whittling a stick. The moonlight glinted off the blade. She is dangerous, this pretty girl, Nick thought. Better in the woods than him, by far. And with her knife and pistol, probably better than him in a fight, he had to admit. Was he being stupid, teaming up with this stranger? Still, she had saved his life, getting him out of the Freepost that morning . . . and without her, he’d never find the rebels.
“Erica,” he said, “why are you helping me?”
Erica stopped whittling and turned to look at him. In the gloom he mostly just saw the whites of her eyes and her teeth. “Why not?” she said. “You seem harmless enough.”
Nick was irritated by that. He had killed bots. He had broken out of the re-education center. Back in the City, he was wanted for “violent rebellion.”
“I’m not as harmless as you think,” Nick said.
“Good,” said Erica. She went back to whittling her stick.
“They attacked my Freepost the same way they attacked the one this morning,” Nick said. “Burned it down. Killed most of us and took some of us hostage, and only a few of us got away.” He paused. “Is that what happened to you?”
“More or less,” Erica said, continuing to chop on the stick. Nick waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t say anything more.
“And your family? You said they were killed? Captured?”
She set her stick down. “More or less,” she repeated, with an edge to her voice that kept him from asking anything else.
Nick slept for a few hours, then was woken by a nudge on the shoulder from Erica. He opened his eyes. She was squatting, her face near his. In the faint light, she looked younger, delicate even. She had a long, straight nose and a heart-shaped face with the fullest lips. He wondered what it would be like to kiss them, then felt guilty for thinking it. He should be thinking about kissing Lexi, not Erica.
Erica held her pistol out toward Nick, muzzle pointed sideways. Nick sat up, suddenly wide awake. “You know how to use this?” she asked.
“More or less,” Nick said.
Erica smiled, her teeth flashing in the moonlight. “Right. Ha-ha.” She pointed at a small switch near the trigger. “Safety switch,” she said. “Forward to fire. Back, to keep yourself from accidentally shooting your own foot.”
“Got it,” he said. He held his hand out. Erica hesitated. He realized that this must be strange for her too, putting her trust in a stranger. “It’s fine,” he said, gently. “I’ll keep a good watch. Sleep.” Erica nodded and handed him the pistol. She lay down on her bedroll. Nick felt strangely proud, like he had passed some sort of test. Still, her trust in his guard only went so far—before pulling her cover up to her chin, Nick noticed that Erica was holding her hunting knife, in its sheath, up against her chest.
———
In the morning Erica led them directly south. They followed a creek for an hour, until Erica stopped near a rocky outcropping that the creek bent around, hiding it from view. “Past those boulders,” she said, pointing, “there’s a sheltered clearing that I know they use sometimes—”
A rock next to Nick’s leg exploded with a burst of light and a muffled thump, spraying pellets painfully against his shin. “Down!” said Erica, hitting the ground. Nick was on the ground a moment after her. He looked around frantically. Where had that come from? A man stood up from behind the boulders. He aimed a burst rifle at Nick and Erica. Nick felt a jolt of recognition—it was the thin man in camouflage gear that he and Cass and Kevin had seen a few days ago.
“Next shot won’t miss,” the man called out. “Turn around and leave.”
Erica stepped forward. “You know me,” she said. “We’ve met in the Freeposts.”
“Yes,” said the man, “I’ve traded with you. Doesn’t matter. You still need to leave.”
“What, you own these woods?” said Nick angrily. He knew it was stupid to lose his temper, especially with a burst rifle aimed at his chest, but he couldn’t help himself.
“This section of it, right now, yes,” said the man calmly. “Now, one last time, I’ll ask you to leave. I don’t particularly like shooting humans, but you won’t be getting any more warnings.”
“We want to help,” said Erica. “To join you.”
“We’re coming from the Freepost northeast of here,” Nick added. “It was just destroyed by the bots.”
The man lowered the rifle and took his finger off the trigger. “Yes, we know.” He was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. “Come on then. Ro will want to talk to you.”
Beyond the boulders, the man led them toward a small hill overgrown with bushes that was tucked back from the creek. From a distance, the surrounding trees seemed to come right up to the base of the hill, but as they got closer, Nick saw that there was a small gap between the trees and the hill on the south side. The man stopped and whistled twice, two quick bursts, and they heard one long whistle in reply. He pointed at the gap in the trees and nodded, then followed closely behind Erica and Nick. Nick felt a prickle on the back of his neck, knowing that the man’s burst rifle was at his back.
Beyond the tree gap, the woods opened up into a clearing that held the rebel campsite. Tents were staked in two rows of four, surrounding a fire pit circled with small stones. Two men were cooking a rabbit over the pit. A small group of men and a woman were sitting on logs, looking at something on a handheld vid screen. He saw others farther back in the clearing. Everyone wore camouflage and had the unmistakable look of long-time forest-dwellers—they were tan, and dirty, and lean.
One of the men at the fire pit left the rabbit and walked up to Nick and Erica. Nick recognized his stocky build—this was the other man that he had seen with Kevin and Cass, the partner to the thin man. “What’ve you found, Jackson?” he said, staring at Erica and not even glancing at Nick.
“Survivors from the latest Freepost attack,” said Jackson. “Figured Ro would want to talk to them.”
“Yeah, suppose so,” said the stocky man. He was still staring at Erica. “This one I recognize. Trader, aren’t you?” he said. “Like to roam? Bad luck, that was, getting stuck in a Freepost right before an attack.”
“Yes,” said Erica, crossing her arms over her chest, looking at the man with obvious distaste. “Bad luck.”
“Marco, get the screener, will you?” said Jackson.
“We’re clean,” Erica said angrily.
“I’m sure you are,” said Jackson. “Marco, the screener.”
Marco grunted and nodded, then walked off to one the tents. He came back a minute later holding what looked like a small metal baton. He waved it carefully over Nick, feet to head, front and back, then glanced at the small screen built into the grip of the baton. “This one’s clean,” he said. He repeated the process for Erica, who stood rigid while he ran the baton over her. When he reached her waist, she turned, as if to say something, and his hand brushed he
r butt. She stepped back and slapped him. Jackson grabbed her by both arms and pulled her away from Marco, and Nick stepped quickly between Marco and Erica. The nearby rebels were now standing, watching them intently.
Marco touched his cheek, then slowly the anger on his face slipped away, replaced with an almost respectful smile. “It’s fine, Jackson. I’m fine. Let her go.”
Jackson hesitated, then let go of Erica’s arms. The other rebels watching the scene relaxed and went back to their tasks.
“Watch them for a minute while I get Ro,” said Jackson. “Try not to start another fight.” Marco nodded, grinning, and Jackson walked off toward a tent set back from the others.
“Must’ve been pretty nasty,” said Marco. “The Freepost, I mean. What’d they use, a couple of warbirds and twenty soldiers or so? That’s probably all it would take.”
Erica ignored him. Marco turned to Nick. “Well?” he said.
“Well what?” said Nick. His heart was still beating hard from the adrenaline rush of almost being in a fight.
“Two warbirds? Twenty soldiers?”
“Something like that,” said Nick.
“Lucky to get out,” said Marco.
Nick thought of Erica kicking in his door, dragging him off the floor, leading him out. Of the other Freeposters who were dying, being captured. Who he hadn’t fought for. “Yeah,” he said quietly.
Marco seemed done conversing, and Erica and Nick had nothing to say, so the three waited in silence. After five minutes, Jackson came out of the tent, followed by another man. They walked toward Nick and Erica. “Best behavior, girl,” whispered Marco. “Slapping Sergeant Ro wouldn’t be a very good idea.”
Erica shot him an annoyed glance—she obviously didn’t like the way he said “girl,” but she was quiet. Jackson and Ro walked up. Ro was young, not much older than Nick, Nick guessed, but he walked and held himself with a certain subtle confidence that seemed to command respect. He wore camo gear like everyone else. His brown hair was buzzed short, and up close, Nick noticed that his hair had one white streak in it, above the left ear.
Fugitive X Page 6
