The Ark

by Laura Liddell Nolen

  The car answered dispassionately. “Authorization necessary.”

  Cassa blew a breath through tense lips. A limp hank of blonde hair lifted, then collapsed back against her cheek. She climbed out of the car, and Kip waved the gun at Meghan.

  “Authorize another user.”

  Meghan moved forward, then stopped. “No.”

  Cassa crossed the space between us in three enormous strides. In an instant, her free hand was around Meghan’s throat, dragging her toward the hood of the car. “Stay back,” she said to me.

  Meghan’s face hit the car, and she grunted in pain. That was the wrong move, I thought. She’d been afraid, earlier. Now Cassa was making her angry.

  Angry people are harder to manipulate, unless you were subtle about it. Which Cassa wasn’t, ever.

  “Authorize me.”

  Meghan gritted her teeth. “No.”

  Cassa slammed Meghan onto the hood again. Kip moved in, and his gun bore into Meghan’s cheek, stretching the loose skin taut. “This is your last chance.”

  I’d heard that tone before. Kip was deadly serious. He cocked the gun slowly, for effect, and Meghan froze.

  “Wait,” I said.

  They looked at me.

  “If you let her go, I’ll drive you. Let her go, and let Isaiah ride with us.”

  “You can’t exactly afford to negotiate here, Char,” said Kip. At the same time, Cassa said, “No way.”

  “Look at her. You can tell she means it. I’m your only way out,” I said. Kip looked toward the house, and I read the look on his face. “No family. Her son’s already on an Ark. She gave us her car. She’s ready to die, Cass.”

  Cassa glared first at me, then at Kip. “Kip, no. We talked about this. Char stays.”

  Kip sighed and clucked his tongue casually, as though trying to decide which pair of pants to wear. Finally, he shook the gun at us. “The Mole stays.”

  He was right: I couldn’t afford to negotiate. But neither could he. “No deal.”

  Another moment passed, and Kip broke into his carefree grin. “Oh, all right.” He circled the gun in the air. “One big happy road trip. Mount up, as they say. Time to go.”

  Cassa stared daggers at the back of his head, but eventually straightened and released her grip on Meghan. “All aboard. Quick like bunnies, before we change our minds. You two in front. Wouldn’t want Isaiah to miss the scenery.”

  I wasn’t much for goodbyes, and definitely not hugs, so it was a moment before I spoke again. I paused, almost to the driver’s seat. “Meghan… thank you.”

  She only nodded. “Give ’em hell.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Isaiah settled in next to me. We slammed the doors shut. I tried to relax, knowing that in a moment, I’d have a gun to my neck. Kip made a show of settling into the back seat, smiling indulgently, like a father giving a small child a piggyback ride.

  Cassa was taking longer than I expected. When she opened the door, I forced myself to relax again. I focused on Meghan, who was still looking at me. She seemed satisfied. Almost happy.

  She was still watching me when Cassa shot her.

  Cassa was a fair shot, and this was close range, a direct hit to the head. Even knowing it was over, I couldn’t stop myself from lunging for the car door. Immediately, the burning barrel of the gun pressed into my neck. Cassa was already seated behind me. A scalding sensation spread up into my scalp, and I screamed. Before me, Meghan’s body hit the ground.

  “Drive. Now,” Cassa said into my ear.

  I made an awful, whimpering sound, and Isaiah’s hand slid over mine.

  “He’s next,” said Cassa, moving the gun to point at Isaiah.

  Isaiah squeezed my hand. I drove.

  The silence stretched out like tar. It was a trick I learned my first week inside: how to cry without making any noise. Every soul in juvy had it down cold.

  Isaiah’s hand was warm against mine, his skin dry and soft. Every so often, he’d give me a little pat, or another squeeze, and the road would blur until I blinked. I held my hand still, afraid that any movement would cause him to take his hand away. He couldn’t have known how much I needed it there.

  After a moment, Kip’s pale, icy fingers touched the spot on my neck where the barrel of the gun had been. I shivered hard.

  “There, there, love. She was practically already dead anyway.”

  I forced my words through clenched teeth. “Then, why?”

  Kip shrugged, and his hand mercifully left my neck. “Have to ask Cass that one.”

  “Because he came back for you,” she said. I glanced back in confusion. They’d come back to follow me, not save me.

  Kip shot me a strange look through the greasy strands of black hair that had fallen across his face before turning to rifle through my bags in the back seat, keeping the gun in one hand. “Once again, you don’t disappoint.”

  Cassa’s eyes widened at the sight of food. “Maybe you were onto something after all, love,” she said to Kip.

  They tore into the sandwiches. Cassa stuffed half the first one into her mouth. Kip did the same a moment later. The chips came next. She crunched them loudly. Through the rear view mirror, I watched her wipe her hands on the seat, leaving streaks of grease dotted with crumbs.

  A light rain splattered against the windshield, and the wipers began their rhythmic response. Kip, Isaiah, and I were silent, and Cassa had little to say of interest. She mostly commented, between gulps of food, about the plight of the people we passed. “Toast. Toast. Space debris, look at her.” I wrestled thoughts of Meghan to the back of my mind. It was probably the only chance I’d get to plan my next move.

  I had a few things in my favor, in spite of the gun at my back. Namely, Kip and Cassa didn’t know about the starpass. I had no idea how they planned to find the Remnant, if it even existed, and without a starpass, they couldn’t hope to board an OPT. The launch sites were, at this point, literally the most secure places on Earth. Also, Kip and Cassa were likely to underestimate Isaiah, which would be a mistake.

  The thought gave me pause. Isaiah didn’t have a pass, either. When it came right down to it, as it inevitably would, was I prepared to give him mine?

  I thought not, and shuddered. That I could even consider leaving him behind made me sick.

  What kind of person had Meghan tried to save?

  Another question prickled me: where had my mother gotten an extra starpass? Surely she’d never steal one. To do so would deprive her victim of their very life, an action my mother seemed incapable of. I mean, she was a doctor. She was all about saving people. But she was a mother first, and she still seemed to love me.

  It was possible that she’d taken the pass from a deceased patient. In such cases, though, the next of kin or the government would likely want the pass returned to them. Maybe someone had died, and Mom didn’t report it. Whatever the case, I was grateful.

  The car had a full charge, so we breezed around Boston and headed up the coast. I was lost in thought, and still without a plan, when Isaiah’s mellow voice broke my reverie.

  “If you were stuck here, would you rather know, or not know?” he asked.

  I glanced at him. “About the Pinball?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You are stuck here,” said Cassa.

  I ignored her. “Like, does the knowing make it worse?” I thought about it for a moment. “It probably depends on the person. I’d definitely want to know.”

  “Not me,” said Kip. “Life is uncertain anyway.”

  “So you never made any mistakes?” I asked. “Nothing you’d have done differently, if you knew it was your last day?”

  Kip was quieter. “There may be a few things I’d have done differently. But I’m not sure knowing would have changed anything. Not for me.”

  “What difference does it make?” Cassa sounded irritated. Again.

  Kip turned to look out the window. “Oh, nothing, I guess.”

  “Just, being able to plan,” I s
aid.

  “Planning to die. Sounds awesome,” she said.

  “No, planning how to live.”

  “Better get to it, then. What time is it? Two? So you’ve got ten hours till the gate closes.”

  Isaiah ignored her. “I wouldn’t want to know the day. We all got to go sometime. Pinball or no, it’s coming.”

  “There’s a lot of clarity that comes from knowing it’s today, though,” I said.

  He turned to me. For a moment, I imagined he could see through those dark glasses, straight inside me. Maybe he could. “Are you seeing things more clearly, Charlotte?”

  It was weird when he called me that. Put me in a different frame of mind, somehow. “Maybe. Nothing I like, anyway.”

  He smiled. “I like you well enough.”

  It was strange to laugh. “I like you too, Isaiah. Nothing I like about myself, I mean.”

  Kip was staring out the window and had nothing to say about that, to my surprise. Isaiah continued. “You have a long way to go, then. What about you, Cassa?”

  “What about me?”

  “Would you want to know?”

  “Doubt it. I have clarity. People suck, and everyone who pretends otherwise gets rewarded. It’s bollocks. We’re all on our own. Death doesn’t change anything.”

  “Then why did Kip go back for Charlotte, I wonder?” Isaiah said.

  “Because Char…” she paused. “Because Char has better tricks.”

  “That must be it,” he said softly. He took his hand away from mine, finally, and I pressed mine into my leg, because it was still slightly warmer than the rest of me. Isaiah straightened in his seat. “We passed Boston yet?” he asked.

  “Why?” Cassa said. “The OPT’s in Maine.”

  “No reason. Just like to feel oriented.” His fingers slipped underneath the dash, and I mimicked his posture, sitting straight, facing forward. Was he trying to find the glove compartment? I didn’t look at him again, to keep him from drawing Cassa’s attention. She was Kip’s mirror: gazing out the opposite window, a strange expression on her face.

  “Maybe an hour back,” I said. “We went around.”

  “I’d have been happy to let you out, Mole,” said Cassa. “I still am. Not that you’d have found where you’re going.”

  “No need, Cassa. I’m going with Charlotte, here, for a little while.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be very happy orbiting the sun together. Tell me, do bodies decay in a vacuum?”

  Isaiah smiled, and his fingers continued to work. “I reckon they might.”

  The question about Boston had thrown me off. Isaiah grew up there. Other than juvy, it was the only home he’d ever known, but I didn’t see why he’d ask about it.

  Unless his family had lost the lottery.

  It was strange to think about. I’d taken for granted that I’d have had a spot on an OPT, if my record were clean. But then, my father had major influence over the lottery. Everyone else had nothing but hope. If they’d known there were people who could tamper with the results, they wouldn’t even have had that.

  I wanted to ask Isaiah about whether he’d had news from home, but it felt wrong to talk about something so personal in front of Kip and Cassa. His fingers were still under the dash, and he was unusually chatty, so I decided to follow his lead. “Do you think it’s like they say, up there?”

  At my question, he paused for an instant before continuing whatever it was he was up to. He opened his mouth to reply, but Cassa was quicker.

  “Oh, you mean will everyone have a fresh start and the same stuff as everyone else? And we’ll all be equals? Of course we will. And we’ll be attended by unicorns and fairies.”

  I snorted at that. “How long has civilization been around? Six thousand years, give or take? Ten? Our species gets a clean slate, plus all that experience. Humanity could finally get it right.”

  Kip finally spoke. “You believe that, Char?”

  “She’s just stupid enough,” said Cassa.

  I thought for another moment. I needed to keep Kip and Cassa talking. It would be easier to beat them if they let down their guard. “I don’t want anyone to die. But it seems like we have a real shot at… utopia. Whatever you call it. Democracy.”

  “No, we don’t,” said Cassa. “Because it’s being built by the same people who broke the current system. You bunnies don’t get it. You’re either weak, or you’re strong. The people on the Arks will be stronger than the ones left down here, but they’re still just people. Before long, it’ll be every man for himself. Just like here. That’s why we’ll need the Remnant.”

  “That’s still the plan?” I asked. “Find the Remnant, escape to space?”

  “You got a better one? Kip says they’ll recruit at the launch site.” Cassa sounded less sure of that than I expected.

  “Recruit?” said Isaiah. “Group like that doesn’t need to do much recruiting. You join up or you die.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in them,” said Cassa. Her voice made her sound unsteady. I pictured her trying to catch her balance, and I realized all at once that Cassa didn’t believe in the Remnant any more than I did.

  “I don’t,” Isaiah answered. “But I sure don’t believe they’re recruiting.”

  “Kip says—” Cassa cut herself off. “Never mind.”

  There was a long silence, and it finally dawned on me that Cassa wasn’t trying to find the Remnant at all. She was just following Kip. Right to the end.

  The sun continued its final arc across the horizon. I ran a finger over a small, circular burn on the roof of the car. I imagined Meghan scoring a real, sure-enough cigarette, then driving out of town to enjoy it. That way, her behavior wouldn’t reflect badly on her son, the prison guard. Maybe she’d even gotten it from him.

  Click, snap, CLICK. The car jerked to a stop, jolting me from my thoughts about Meghan. My seatbelt bit into my shoulder, forcing me back into the seat.

  “What was that?” said Kip. “What’s going on?”

  I shrugged.

  “Maybe a short?” said Isaiah. “I could check it out.”

  “How dumb do you think we are?” said Cassa. “Char, you go.”

  “To look for a short? I have no idea—”

  “I’m going,” said Kip. “Pop the hood.”

  Kip had barely set foot on the ground when Isaiah leaned across my lap, reaching to the other side of the steering wheel. “I’m on it,” he muttered. A moment later, the trunk popped open, followed by Isaiah’s door.

  “Mole! Mo— Isaiah. Get back here,” said Cassa.

  He called back to her without slowing down. It was the loudest I’d ever heard his voice. “I’m just looking.”

  “What? You’re blind.”

  “Can’t do no harm then, right, baby?”

  She waved the gun. “I will shoot you.”

  “Maybe he can help?” I said. “Maybe we should let—”

  “Char. I can. NOT. Emphasize this enough: Shut up.”

  Cassa was panicking. Panic is weakness, and a great way to lose the game at the last minute, but her instincts were right: Isaiah was up to something. I was glad she hadn’t seen him tinkering under the dash. She’d have shot him, cold. And it would have been the right move for her, then.

  But it was too late for that now.

  Her voice raised in pitch. “Mole! I will shoot her!”

  Isaiah spoke calmly from behind the trunk. “Who’s gonna drive the car, Cassa? You? Maybe I should try it.”

  Cassa realized the futility of her stance. She couldn’t possibly shoot me yet. We were six hours from Saint John and the OPT, and I was the only one who could drive the car.

  But she could kill Isaiah.

  She shot out of the car. I fumbled with my seatbelt for an instant before following her. My view of Isaiah was blocked by the open trunk.

  Kip realized what Isaiah was up to before I did. But he was all the way in the front of the car, trying to pry open the hood. And Isaiah was nearly to the t
runk.

  I figured it out when I saw the look on Kip’s face. He bolted towards Isaiah, who had just ducked behind the open trunk. I threw open my door, slamming it into Kip’s hips. It barely slowed him down, but it was all the time Isaiah needed. He emerged from behind the trunk holding the rifle.

  Cassa leveled the gun at Isaiah’s heart. I threw myself at her, making contact as the shot went off.

  “Hoo, now,” said Isaiah. I breathed out. It had missed him.

  I scrambled to my feet, but Cassa was faster. Her gun squared with my face. I froze, halfway to standing, and lifted my hands. But I knew it wouldn’t matter. She wore her hatred as plainly as the features of her face. In that moment, she wanted me dead more than she wanted the car to run. More than anything.

  A second shot rang out, deeper and more hollow than the first, rattling back and forth between the trees on either side of the interstate.

  Cassa hit the ground, face up, and didn’t move. Red splotches blossomed over her shirt. Isaiah stepped out from behind the trunk. He had a steady grip on Meghan’s rifle.

  Kip was quick, but I had always been quicker. By the time he started moving, I had pried the gun from Cassa’s fingers and pointed it at Kip.

  I hazarded a shaky glance back at Isaiah. From the look of it, he was well aware that his shot had hit its mark.

  My attention turned back to Kip, whose hands were raised and whose face was marked with defeat. He stepped back, knowing already that we weren’t going to shoot him unless he tried to get back in the car. Neither of us spoke to the other. I guess we had already said everything there was to say.

  We left him there, on the side of the interstate, with Cassa’s body. Even after everything that had come between us, I knew I’d never recover the piece of my soul that stayed with them.

  It was a long time before Isaiah spoke. “Thank you,” he said. “For stopping her. And for bringing me.”

  “Thank you, too. You know.” I gestured at the shrinking forms of Kip and Cassa in the rear view mirror, as though Isaiah could see me, or them.

  “It’s nothing.”

  His words hung in the air. We were quiet for a few more miles, and then Isaiah spoke. “Charlotte.”

  “Yes?”