The Limit

by Kristen Landon

  The next thing I knew, giant floodlights lit up the grounds. I paused for a second, squinting in the overwhelming brightness. Then I ran, heading across the grass toward the trees.

  “Get back here!” The voice sounded deep and angry and full of muscle. I imagined the guard tearing up the ground between us, jumping me from behind, and ripping me to pieces. I pushed harder.

  I eyed the flat road stretching in front of the workhouse. The smooth surface would be less hazardous to run on than the obstacle course of the wooded area along the side, but running on the road seemed like a great way to get spotted and caught. I kept to the trees. Running. Always running.

  Thanks, Coop, for keeping me in shape.

  I MADE IT TO A MORE CROWDED section of the city by morning. Had I only been walking for one night? It felt like a week. I could’ve lain down on the road and not even twitched if a semi truck zoomed by an inch away from my head. My grouchy, empty stomach made life miserable on a different level.

  “Hand over your parental permission card,” Corn Dog Pushcart Man said, after I approached him.

  Shoot. I hadn’t thought about my card for weeks. I couldn’t even remember where I’d put it in my room at the workhouse.

  “I’m on a special program,” I said to the man. “Will you try the scan without the card? Please? I’m starving.”

  I got my corn dog. Whatever accounting system the FDRA had me on at the workhouse apparently worked out in the real world too.

  After squirting a giant glob of mustard on top, I sank in my teeth. Mmm. Heaven on a stick. I enjoyed every bite, even though I knew it came at a high price. The instant Corn Dog Man took the eye scan, my identity and location were broadcast to anyone who cared to look for me, and I didn’t wonder for a single second whether or not the FDRA people were looking for me.

  What was I thinking? Actually, I hadn’t thought very far beyond breaking out of the workhouse. I hadn’t even thought to bring my cell phone with me. If I’d been able to charge it back up, I’m sure it would have worked just fine out here. Where did I think I could go without the FDRA finding me? They had to know I’d head for home. Okay. Focus. My goal had been to tell my parents that Lauren was sick. It might also be good to ask them what was going on with our limit that landed her in the workhouse in the first place. All I needed to do was dodge the FDRA people long enough to talk to my parents. First priority, get as far away from Corn Dog Man as fast as possible.

  Eye scans work for me out here. I flagged down a taxi.

  I slept most of the way home and had the driver drop me off a couple blocks away from my house. I jumped fences and ran through yards, staying out of sight in the shrubbery as much as possible. The closer I got to home, the tighter my stomach knotted up. Since the probability was high that a big black limo was sitting in front of my house at that very moment, I sneaked in through the back door.

  Once inside, I paused to catch my breath. Voices and music from the TV in the family room echoed through the otherwise silent house. I walked carefully, trying not to make any noise as I slipped into the family room to see who was watching the set. I don’t know why I felt I needed to sneak. This was my house. I had a right to be here.

  I found Abbie on the floor on her stomach, mesmerized by people in weird costumes dancing across the TV screen.

  “Hey, Abs.” I spoke softly, not wanting to startle her.

  “Matt!” She jumped to her feet, ran over, and threw her arms around me. “You’re home. Did you bring Lauren? Why did you go away for so long?”

  Now wasn’t the time to explain it all. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Um . . . I dunno,” she said.

  “That’s okay. I’ll find her.”

  Instead of lying back down in front of the TV, Abbie hooked a finger through one of the belt loops on the back of my pants and followed me closer than a shadow.

  We wandered through the kitchen, the dining room, the front room. No Mom. We tried upstairs next. That’s where I found her. She sat propped against a pile of pillows on her bed, her bare feet bopping to the music pumping into her brain through her earbuds. Her laptop sat on her thighs, and the sound of her fingers tapping was like a cloudburst against a windowpane.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said.

  She sat up straight, pulled out her earbuds, and pushed the computer off her lap. “Matt!” She jumped off the bed and ran over to me, hugging me tight. “Miss Smoot called from the workhouse, telling me you might show up here. And someone came to the door, looking for you. In fact, he may still be . . . oh, never mind about that. I want to hear from you what’s going on. I hope you haven’t gotten yourself into any serious trouble. How did you get here? Let me look at you.” She pushed me out to arm’s length for two seconds, then pulled me in for more hugging. “I swear, you’ve grown taller in the three weeks you’ve been gone. They must be feeding you well at the workhouse.”

  “I eat great there,” I said. “They can’t match your meat loaf, though.”

  She loosened her hold on me and ruffled my hair. “I’ll make some for dinner. Will you get to stay that long?”

  “Mom, listen, don’t worry about dinner. It’s Lauren. Something is wrong with her. Yesterday she had some sort of fit, and they’re not going to do anything about it. She needs to see a doctor or go to the hospital or something.”

  “It’s called a seizure, and she had an extremely mild one, from what Miss Smoot told me. I know they can be frightening. It must have been hard for you to watch.”

  It was as if I’d smashed into a brick wall, killing my momentum. That word. Seizure. Some kid had one on the first night I was at the workhouse. I didn’t know a whole lot about seizures, but I knew they weren’t anywhere near as common as headaches. And Mom already knew Lauren had one. “Miss Smoot . . . told you?”

  “Yes. I told you she called me a little while ago.”

  Right. When Honey Lady realized they weren’t going to catch me before I made it home, she figured she’d better cover her tracks.

  “It’s so sweet of you to be worried about your sister. But that’s my job. And your father’s—and believe me, we’ve done plenty. Miss Smoot sent us an electronic copy of Lauren’s medical records and assured us that the workhouse has medical personnel on-site. No children there are going to go without the medical attention they need. Lauren was thoroughly examined. We made sure of that. She’s fine. It was just a fluke.”

  “A fluke? Mom, she’s been at the workhouse for what—six days? She’s never had a seizure before in her life. Do you really think that’s a coincidence?”

  “What are you saying? You can’t think something at the workhouse caused the seizure. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Why? At least one other kid I know of has had a seizure since I’ve been there.”

  “I can’t worry about all the other kids in the workhouse. I’m just concerned with my two.”

  “Well, what about all the headaches?”

  Mom rubbed the side of her forehead. “I think I’m developing one right now.”

  “Aren’t you going to do something?”

  “About what?”

  “Getting Lauren out of there!”

  Shaking her head, she plopped down on the bed. “Oh, Matt. Don’t you think that’s what I’m trying to do? It’s what we’ve all been trying to do—ever since the moment they took you.”

  I sat down next to her, reaching for the laptop. “Okay. Show me what you’ve been doing.”

  “Show you?” Her eyebrows crinkled together. “How? It’s not like I’ve been drawing up pie charts and graphs.”

  “Just show me the numbers in our account. I’m sure it’s all online somewhere.”

  As I forced the computer on her, her fingertips balanced it on the edge of her lap. “Yes. I’m sure it is all on here somewhere.”

  “Don’t you check it regularly? Mom! How can you know how far over the limit we are if you don’t check the account? Did you ever check it before we went over?”

  Mom
looked like she’d just been stung by a bee. “I don’t like to worry about money. Dad always assures me we have plenty coming in and that he’ll take care of everything.”

  “Great. That’s just great.” My breath came out in a big gushing sigh. “Mom, managing the account isn’t calculus. Heck, it isn’t even algebra. Basic, simple arithmetic.”

  “Oh, no. It’s much more complicated than that. It’s got all that interest to calculate and the fines and fees to figure out.”

  “Okay, but you don’t have to figure out that part. The software does it for you. All you have to do is take a look. Addition and subtraction are the only things you need to figure out how much over or under the limit we are.”

  Abbie bounced on the bed behind us. With a loud, giggly squeal she launched herself at my back, wrapping her arms in a stranglehold around my neck.

  “Knock it off,” I said, untangling myself. Turning, I saw her lips pout out and her eyes fill with tears. “I’ll play with you in a few minutes. Okay? After I’m done talking to Mom. Here, give me that.” I reclaimed the computer and within a few seconds found the site that would connect us to our family account. Mom placed her thumb on the scanner pad, but she couldn’t remember the password. I had to wait for several minutes while she answered a long list of security questions.

  “All right,” I said, taking over the computer once again. “Let’s see what’s going on. What I don’t get is why Lauren got taken away. How could we go over the limit when we were already over the limit?”

  “Oh. That.”

  “Tell me.”

  She didn’t have to say a word. I could see it for myself. Two lines of account activity were listed for the very same date.

  MATTHEW DUNSTON BROUGHT IN TO SATISFY FDO 169-D.

  And then,

  DUNSTON FAMILY LIMIT INCREASE ACTIVATED.

  Our limit had gone up because of my work at the FDRA. Glad to be of service, Mom and Dad. Anything else you want from me? A quart of blood maybe? A kidney?

  “You knew about this all along?”

  Squeezing her lips together, she nodded. “We received a phone call soon after you left.”

  “Why didn’t they send me home as soon as you got the new limit?”

  “They couldn’t.” Mom reached for a tissue. “If you came home, we would drop back down to the old limit. That’s the one we have to get under in order for you to be able to come home.”

  “And you didn’t even make an effort.” My voice grew louder as the picture of what had been going on around here came more clearly into focus. I started breathing fast, like I’d just come off a three-mile race. “You went over the new limit too. That’s what made them take Lauren. How could you do that to her?”

  She blew into her tissue. “We have been making an effort. That’s what I don’t understand. The in-home care we had to get for Nana isn’t cheap, but we thought we had plenty to cover it. Even with the new car, we should have been fine. I didn’t even go to the store that day. I hardly bought anything online. Your father went to court to pay the fine for his accident—which really wasn’t his fault, so he shouldn’t have had to pay it in the first place. It was a good chunk of money, but we still should have been under the limit. And then I got the call that we’d gone over. We couldn’t think of a single thing we could do about it.”

  So you sold off another child.

  “You know what, Mom? I can think of a couple of things you could have done. How about stop spending money?” My voice was near screaming now. Blood pounded fast through my head. “Just. Don’t. Buy. Anything!” My chest rose and fell in quick succession. “Turn this thing off, and don’t open it until both Lauren and I come home!” I slammed the laptop closed and hurled it across the room. It smashed against a wall and fell to the floor.

  “Matt!” Mom’s voice burst out in surprise and shock.

  I snatched up one of Dad’s heavy dress shoes off the floor by the bed, stood up, and chucked it at the computer with a roaring scream. The shoe hit the wall and left a black mark on the cream wallpaper. Maybe the mate would hit the computer.

  “Stop it!” Mom stood next to me, her hands tugging my arm. She wasn’t strong enough to hold me back, and the second shoe went even farther off target, smashing into an assortment of perfume bottles on a small vanity table. The mix of strong flowery and spicy aromas stung my nose. I searched the floor for another pair of shoes, even though I knew that breaking stuff was stupid. My parents would just run out and buy a new laptop and restock the perfume bottles. Go ahead, Mom and Dad. Rack up the account. Don’t worry about the limit. You’ve got one more kid left to sell off.

  Abbie’s soft whimpers finally got through to me. I dropped the shoe I’d grabbed from the closet and turned to her. She huddled in a tight ball behind a couple of the pillows on the bed, the tips of her fingers in her mouth.

  “It’s okay, Abbie,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be,” said Mom.

  Abbie didn’t budge.

  “What were you thinking?” Mom asked. “You show up out of the blue and start destroying things, scaring your little sister to death. It’s inexcusable.”

  Inexcusable? Me?

  “Just blatant disrespect for family members,” I snapped back. “A behavioral technique I learned from you.”

  “That’s not fair, Matt, and I will not have you talk to me like that in my own home!”

  “You know what to do, then, don’t you? Keep spending money. Then you’ll never have to worry about me saying another word in this house ever again.”

  She paused, pained lines creasing her forehead between her eyes. Didn’t stop me.

  “How dare you, Mom? You do realize you only have Abbie left now. What are you going to do when they come for her and you’re out of kids?”

  The trembling fingers of Mom’s hand rose to her mouth as she lowered herself to sit on the edge of her bed.

  Abbie started crying big-time. Shoot. I shouldn’t have said anything about her getting taken away. She’d already seen Lauren and me go. She had to be scared about the big black limo coming for her someday.

  Mom held out her hand and Abbie crawled into her hug.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie, no one will take you away.” Mom glanced up at me. “She’s too young. They won’t take her.”

  “How do you know? Have you checked it out already?” My voice sounded so mean I didn’t recognize it. I threw my arms out to my sides. “Don’t you and Dad care that we’re gone?”

  Mom squeezed her eyes closed and gave her head a shake, as if clearing something out of it. “You have no idea how much I care, Matt. Dad, too. It’s killing us to have you and Lauren gone. We’re both working extremely hard to get the two of you home.”

  “Right,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “No! It’s true. That’s what I was working on when you came in. I’m starting a new business! As soon as it takes off, we’ll get the two of you home right away.”

  The adrenaline pulsing through me slacked off a tiny bit. “Really?”

  “Yes, I have two appointments this very afternoon, and your father has one this evening.”

  Any extra money Mom and Dad brought in would totally benefit our account. They were both taking on an extra job, just to get us under the limit—to get me home. “What’s the business?”

  “Marketing,” she said, her voice taking on an excited bounce. “There’s this incredibly fast-growing company that makes amazing health products—energy boosters, antioxidant supplements, things like that. The amazing part is that the supplements come in these little, matchstick-sized rods that are inserted under the skin of the upper arm. A tiny computer chip analyzes the body’s needs and releases the supplements automatically. Isn’t that fantastic? I’m telling you, Matt, these products will practically sell themselves. And what’s even better, if Dad and I recruit other people to join our sales force, we get a commission for every product they sell. Then, when they recruit more people, we get a percentage of their c
ommissions as well, and it goes on and on. Soon we won’t have to worry about doing any selling of our own. We can just sit back and count the money rolling in from the sellers underneath us.”

  The smile on my face flattened out. “I don’t understand how that can work.”

  “It’s simple, sweetie. They ask each new salesperson—or team, in our case—to recruit ten new people. If each of them recruits ten people, we’ll earn a commission from one hundred and ten people. Imagine all that money. Imagine how much we’ll earn when those one hundred people recruit ten people each, and then those people recruit ten people each.”

  “Stop,” I said, holding out my hands. “It’s impossible, Mom. It sounds like a total scam.”

  “No, it’s not a scam. I have a long list of people and their testimonials of how they made piles of money working with this company.”

  “If that were true, then it would be even more impossible for you to make anything. You’ve got to look at this mathematically. If what you’re saying is true, the sales force would grow at an exponential rate. It wouldn’t take long before the world would run out of people to recruit. Besides that, with all these people selling, who’s buying?”

  “A lot of people want these products,” said Mom, sticking her chin in the air. “They practically sell themselves.”

  “How many have you sold?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “Well, none yet. We’ve been focusing our time on recruiting. That’s where the real money will come from. We’ll start selling after we have our ten people. We could get our first three recruits today, after our appointments. When we’re ready to sell, we’ve got a whole closet full of products waiting to ship out. You’ll see, Matt. It will work. It has to work.”

  Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back. “Please tell me the company didn’t make you pay for those products before they sent them to you.” It was as if I could see dollar signs flying out the window in front of me. “Don’t tell me you had to put up a bunch of money to get into this.” I already knew they had. How else could that stupid company earn any money when their entire sales force was focusing on finding more sellers instead of pushing product?