by Terry Persun
“And the people in Newcity don't have a choice,” Keith added.
“Originally they do. Only a few are born inside. Although some choose a placid life over a complicated and potentially dangerous one, others are sold into Newcity.”
“Sold?”
Sam abruptly ended the conversation by announcing in a loud voice, “You should grab something now before it's gone.”
Sam was obviously uncomfortable talking about such subjects. But Keith wanted a response to one last question. He turned to Sam and looked in his eyes, something he would never have done in Newcity, something that came from a place so deep inside him that it frightened him, even as he did it. He asked, “Do you think that in some way, the escapees are changing their minds? That it's possible that they're making a different choice?”
Sam walked away in a hurry and stood near some of the other members of Bradley's group.
Keith thought he may have hit on something and planned to consider it later, when it was quiet and he had the time to think. Right now, the noise of escapees talking and piling food onto plates wasn't the time to think. He got in line behind one of the others. He had never been introduced to any of them except Stacy, who had introduced herself.
As Keith stepped in line, the man in front of him backed away. “Please go on,” he said.
“I'm in no hurry,” Keith said.
Then several more in line backed away as well. “Please go,” a woman who stood several people down the line said. “Or we could get it for you? You could wait in your tent, or find a place to sit? Whatever you want.” She lowered her head.
One of the men from the main group must have been troubled by what was going on and charged in to break it up. “He's able to get his own food. Just finish up here. We've got other things to do.” He pointed for them to get back to the table and closed in behind the escapees, forcing them to step back into line.
The escapees shot into place, outwardly nervous about what had happened. Two stopped filling their plates altogether and walked away.
Keith stepped up to the table and ladled out two large portions of soup. A few steps farther down he grabbed two pieces of cornbread in one hand. He left the group and sat behind his tent.
Stacy joined him a few minutes later. “See what I mean?” she said, standing over him. “We'll do whatever you ask.”
“I'm not here to save anyone,” Keith said. “I'll be lucky if I can figure out what's going on at all. And then I doubt there's anything I can do about it. Besides, what do you need to be saved from? You have food and shelter and nothing to do all day.”
“Until we're integrated. Then everything changes. I don't know for sure, but I've heard stories and it's not good.” She leaned against a tree trunk.
Keith sat on the ground and ate, looking up at her every once in a while. “Maybe the system needed someone to fashion the boy's image out of and I won the lottery. And you can tell Ben and the others that I haven't heard from the boy for a long time now. The connection has been cut. I'm not a beacon.”
She looked disappointed. “I'll tell him,” she said. A few more short moments went by as she stared at him as though trying to figure something out, then she left without another word.
Keith felt a tinge of guilt about how he handled their conversation, but rationalized his response based on how uncomfortable he was with the way things were progressing. His frustration easily grew to anger. And the truth was that she expected something from him that he wasn't ready or willing to provide.
Sam came by for Keith's bowl well after he had finished eating. The bowl sat on the ground next to him, a small stream of ants already finding their way up its side. He had been watching them for a while when Sam rounded the corner of the tent and swung down and grabbed the bowl. “What was that about? Earlier?”
“Being nice to the new guy? Overly polite?” Keith said.
“No, there was something else. I saw how they looked at you.”
Keith turned his head away. “I don't know what you mean. I just got here. I don't even know their names.” Keith started to get up when several of Bradley's group came around the tent and grabbed his arms.
Sam stood back to let them through. When Keith shot him a confused look he said, “I'm sorry, but this is for your own good.”
“So what are you going to do with me?”
“Bring you along,” Sam said. “Something isn't right here and I have to let Bradley know. I didn't want to leave you with them after what I saw.”
When they dragged Keith around the tent, half of the escapees stood in front of them so that they couldn't get by.
“It's all right,” Keith said. “I'm just going to talk with Bradley.”
“You don't have to go,” said the woman who talked to him while they were in line at the food table.
“What are you going to do, hug us to death?” one of Bradley's men said through a large smile. He pulled on Keith's arm to move forward.
The escapees didn't move and Keith could feel the strength of their fear. He realized that they would push through their own terror to help him. They would stand firm until forced to move.
Keith raised his hands the best he could with the two thugs holding him. “Seriously,” he said, glancing around until he saw Stacy. “Can you call them off? I'm fine. I can take care of this. He just wants to talk.” He knew she'd listen.
“We'll have him back this afternoon,” Sam said to the crowd. His words appeared to help the situation even though Keith knew that they weren't sincere. Sam had no idea what would happen.
The escapees turned to Stacy who nodded affirmatively. “Let them go.”
The escapees parted enough for Keith and the others to pass through. Ben, surprisingly, had been one of those standing in the way and Keith wondered what might have changed his mind that he would want to help the others on Keith's behalf. That was unless Ben had other plans for Keith, plans his departure would foil.
On the way down the path Keith's abductors loosened their grips on his upper arms and allowed him to walk on his own. Where would he run to anyway? He had no idea where they were.
“Damned newbies,” one of the men said.
Sam didn't say anything in way of a reprimand, which got Keith to thinking about the apprehension and how unusual it was that Sam appeared to be in charge of it. Yes, he was a trusted member of Bradley's group, but his personality wasn't that of a leader or decision maker. What would bring him to such action unless he was truly worried for Keith?
The men yanked Keith around a corner, which brought him back to the situation. He knew where they were going and should have been more aware. Now they held onto him more firmly, which was something he could have avoided.
When they arrived at Bradley's tent, one of the men put a hand on Keith's head to get him to bend down as he entered. Inside the tent he could stand again. “Sit down,” the man who had called him a newbie said. Then he gave Sam a look of contention before leaving with the other man.
“Bradley will be here soon,” Sam said.
Keith heard Bradley approaching from outside, swearing as he got closer.
Bradley crashed into the tent and stomped to a stop. “What the fuck is going on now?”
Sam looked scared. “When he was…”
“I'm not asking you, for Christ's sake, I'm asking him,” Bradley stood close to Keith.
“I'm not sure,” Keith said.
“I don't have all day here. You and I both know there's more to this than a simple act of politeness.” He turned around. “I knew I shouldn't have put you with them. Especially after I found out you were the boy. Do they know about the girl? Your dad?” He snatched a chair and swung it around backwards and sat down with his arms crossed over its back. “Did you tell them?”
“No,” Keith said.
“Then what is it?”
“They think I'm here to save them,” Keith said.
“Save them from what? Me? The fucking nut cases. Listen to me, without the
proper integration they'd just be a bunch of crazies on the loose. Half of them would have killed the other half by now.” He puffed his cheeks and let out a long breath of air. “The system probably created the boy from your image as a random act, and they're reading into it.”
“That's what I thought,” Keith said. “But some of them think I'm some sort of beacon leading the Newcity police to you.”
Bradley appeared to think that was funny. He laughed and looked over at Sam who smiled uncomfortably. “First of all, the Newcity police are worthless. They'd have to call on the guards who control the perimeter. They're, at least, used to dealing with outsiders.” He leaned in toward Keith. “See, I know what the escapees call us.” He sat back and said, “And second, I've tested every frequency possible and you're not a beacon. I guarantee it.”
He stood up and lifted the chair out of the way. Bradley always acted anxious, as though he had a dozen other things to do and was late for every one of them. He tapped a finger to his chin. “You haven't had a visitation yet?”
“No,” he said.
“It's like you're already integrated. You aren't like the others and I don't quite know why.” He snapped his fingers. “You stay in our camp tonight. Sammy, get things ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
“Can I see my mother?” Keith said.
Bradley said, “Maybe tomorrow. You're the first to come through who has family with us. I'm afraid that close contact could bring back too many childhood memories, which may cause you to exhibit other psychological symptoms. You understand, don't you?”
“I think so. But what could I remember that's so important? Did she sell me to Newcity?”
Bradley waited before he answered the question, and when he did answer he spoke slowly. “I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. My concern is that you've only been here a short while and I think it would be too much emotional stimulus for you to handle.”
“But you said that I was integrating quickly,” Keith said.
Bradley backhanded Keith and knocked him off the chair to the ground. “I said no.”
The slap rang through Keith's head. He touched a hand to his jaw. Somehow, he had felt Bradley's anger as sure as he felt the man's hand across his face. Just as quickly as the anger came it subsided. The violence had drained Bradley's anger instantly.
The big man opened the tent flap to go. He turned to Sam and said softly, “Get him out of here. I'm too busy for this shit.”
Chapter 12
It took Sam a moment or two to gain his composure. When he did, he rushed over to Keith and helped him up.
“I'm all right,” Keith said while taking his seat again.
“Are you sure?”
Keith looked into Sam's eyes and saw nothing but compassion. “It's not your fault.” At times, Keith heard the words that came from his mouth but didn't recognized them as his own. This was one of those times. The slap had been some sort of wake-up call. He knew that now. The air had changed, the tent and its furnishings, even Sam, standing before him emitted a different energy. Keith rested and took in the area. He was sweating and ran a hand across his forehead. Feeling the dampness, he automatically checked for blood but there was only sweat smeared across his hand.
“You don't look right,” Sam said.
“How do you mean?”
“I don't know. You should be enraged, but instead you appear meditative, like you detached from the situation.” Sam stared in what looked like awe.
“Give me a minute,” Keith said. His eyes jerked from one item to the next, taking in the contents of the tent. Everything he inspected took on a life of its own: the desk produced the sensation of firmness and solidity, electronic equipment chattered and hummed with motion, a lamp slept in place, and even the tent produced its own essence, its own vitality.
“You're making me nervous,” Sam said. “What are you doing?”
“Taking it all in,” Keith said. As he let the space settle into a flow of its own, a harmony of existence, the boy with the bullet hole in his forehead stepped from behind a stack of boxes. Keith stopped looking around and stared at the boy. He took a calming breath. He opened to how Sam felt: nervous.
“You must stay awake,” the boy said.
Keith thought to ask what the boy meant, but decided against it while in the presence of nervous Sam. He closed his eyes for only a moment. When he opened them again, the boy was still there. Keith waited, but the boy said nothing more.
The boy with the bullet hole in his forehead, the boy who appeared to be a younger version of Keith, walked toward the entrance to the tent and passed through as though a breeze had parted the flap ahead of him.
Sam snapped out of his silence and reached for Keith, escorting him out of the tent and down the path behind the boy.
Keith couldn't understand what was happening.
A short distance in the opposite direction of the escapees' tents there was an opening in the forest. Keith's tent had been set up next to several others. The boy entered Keith's tent.
Sam stopped in front of the tent and turned to Keith.
“I'm staying here now?” Keith asked.
“My tent is next to yours,” Sam trained his eye on the tent to the left. “There's a lot more activity around here, but you'll be safer.”
“I was safe with the others,” Keith said.
“Don't be so sure,” Sam said before he left.
When Keith crawled into the tent, the boy was gone. “I had questions,” he said to no one. “First of all, how did you get Sam to follow you when he couldn't see you?” Keith lay down on his back and closed his eyes.
As he relaxed in the warmth of the tent air, he heard the boy say, “It was you who showed him the way.”
Keith jerked his eyes open and sat up. He was still alone in the tent. “Okay then,” he said. He lay back down and whispered, “How could I lead Sam if I didn't know where to go?” The inner voice that was the boy didn't respond. Keith forced his relaxation and almost fell asleep, but there was no more contact. He removed the notebook from his pocket and jotted down what had happened. The boy had told him to stay awake, so he left the tent and took a short walk. Sam had been right; there were many more people from Bradley's group on that side of the camp. Most of them appeared to be going somewhere in a hurry, while others Keith ran into were sitting and talking.
The afternoon sped along as Keith attempted to sort out what had happened in Bradley's tent. His greatest question was whether or not Bradley knew what he had done in awakening Keith into contact with the boy with the bullet hole in his forehead. Was Bradley that aware?
Keith rejected the notion and decided that the boy had manipulated Bradley to open Keith's communications, and not the other way around. Either way, a lot of questions were still unanswered.
The rest of the afternoon, Keith paid more attention to the natural elements around him. He walked to the edge of the woods and stared at the hillside, taking in all the colors and textures of the grasses, the bushes, the trees. Birds and insects fascinated him. At one point, he glimpsed an animal running through the field, its short body partially hidden in the tall grass. The creature's dark color scurried like a deep shadow along the ground. The world was enormous in size and varied in its things, both living and nonliving. Keith found it difficult to take it all in through his senses. Surely, he couldn't see, smell, listen, and feel all at the same time. His sight became a fuzzy background image whenever he concentrated fully on listening. And when he noticed details in the images before him, the sound of insects would fade. It was like all his senses were being tested at once, but he could only read them one or two at a time.
That evening Keith ate alone. Sam brought him a plate of chicken and rice and another bottle of water. They talked briefly before Sam announced that he had to go help the others. Keith's wanderings during the day had tired him out, but he wandered a little ways away until the trees opened to the sky, which had taken on an orange glow. Keith coul
d not describe the feeling he received from just looking at the sky. He pulled the notebook from his pocket and wrote down the colors, the random shapes, and the fact that the clouds were layered, but the words meant nothing without the image. He put the notebook back into his pocket and stood in silence. In less than a half hour the colors brightened, streaks of white luminescence lined one of the layers before fading into night. With a glimmer of light pushing through, and little color other than gray and blue, Keith made his way back to his tent.
He had only been outside of Newcity a few days and already so much had happened to and around him. He needed a good night's sleep.
