25
Xoey
“Xoey, look!”
We are all crammed inside the tunnels, waiting for the satellite to pass overhead. Sam finds me sitting on my bed and thrusts his tablet into my hand. After a quick glance at the screen, my eyes jump to his face.
“Reed and Riley?”
He laughs. “Yes! I already decrypted the whole thing. Read it.”
R: We got here early this morning. Ready to make up for lost time.
S: You both okay?
R: Yes. Tell us what’s new. Any news on O or P?
S: P, yes. O, no.
R: Tell us more.
S: She’s at the front. X says to pray.
R: Tell X to check her messages.
S: Okay. X thinks K has O.
R: How? Where?
S: Don’t know. When will you come back?
R: Not sure. Haven’t gotten as far as we hoped.
S: We’re gone. Did you know?
R: Gone?
S: Back where we met.
R: What?!?
S: I don’t like it either. We are adjusting.
R: I want the whole story, but we have to go.
S: Check in again soon?
R: As soon as we can.
I reread it twice then check my account for messages. There are two in my instant message box. Once I decrypt them, I read Riley’s first:
X,
Sorry you are just hearing from me today. I know you must be worried. R got sick during our travels, which made everything take longer than expected. We finally reached our destination today and are both overwhelmed by what comes next. I’ve been praying, X. I hope it helps. We’ve had unexpected help along the way, so maybe that means it is? Please pray for us. I’m sure you’re better at it than me. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but this quest is far from over. I miss you and P. I miss you all.
-R
I wipe tears from my eyes and resist the impulse to hug Riley’s message to my chest. Instead, I swipe it away and open Reed’s:
Hey X,
If R told you I was sick, she’s making it sound worse than it was. It wasn’t that bad, but we got delayed. We’ve seen lots of cool stuff I wish I could tell you about. Try not to worry about R. I’ll take care of her. Just watch out for yourself and don’t forget that O is a fighter. He wouldn’t want you taking unnecessary risks. We’ll be in touch again soon.
-R
By the time night descends on Fort Liberty, most of us have eaten our evening meal, which is something different this week since Omega Squad found a stash of expired MREs during their last recon trip to the edge of the Sand. I am part of the final shift to sit in the dim cafeteria, salivating over cold cheese tortellini simply because it is something different. I eat quietly, listening to the others argue about the abandoned desert safe house where Omega Squad found the food. Some people think we should leave it alone. Clearly it was compromised, or it never would have been deserted. Others think we should install an agent there.
I crush my empty meal packaging and carry it to the composter. Conversation has quickly turned to the book everyone is reading: 1984, by George Orwell. Mr. Patrick has been leading scholarly discussions every night.
“It’s like Orwell was a prophet,” Ozzy says as I pass. “Didn’t pretty much everything he wrote about come true?”
“Not in a literal sense.”
“But still…”
“It’s easier to look back on his words and match them with things that happened than it is to consider what he actually meant to say.” Mr. Patrick’s voice still trembles, reminding me of what he’s been through.
“There was clearly some truth there, though,” Mel says. “Otherwise our government wouldn’t have banned the book.”
“The truth about American History may not be found in our Core Academy texts, but it is not entirely revealed by Orwell either, or even in the history books we found. We must always consider who wrote each text, and what agenda they had to either criticize or idealize their subject.”
“Then how can anyone know what actually happened?”
“The full truth about our history is surely lost to us. But by reading different accounts, and by examining source documents—letters, journals, etc.—we can understand more. Just remember: Learning should not lead the educated to a presumption of elite intelligence. Instead, it should lead us to greater humility.”
Normally I would be interested enough to join the conversation, but tonight I am distracted by the dark sky. As each star pinpricks the twilight, my spirit feels more hopeful, more connected to the Creator of all. Riley and Reed are safe. For now, at least. And tonight, that feels like a victory. Even my renewed belief that Oliver is being tortured by Kino has a hopeful edge to it. It means he’s not dead, I tell myself. And that Kino has some motivation for keeping him alive.
And now, I’m motivated too.
My sense of peace is not strictly spiritual, though. No satellites orbit our skies at this hour. Drones are easier to spot in the dark too, giving off a heat signature our sentries can see from miles away, which means I can breathe freely for a few minutes before returning to the tunnels.
But my reprieve is brief. I have a promise to keep and the longer I put it off, the more peaceful moments I steal from myself. I sigh and whisper a quiet prayer before turning toward the Med Center. Adam is already there, sitting by Xu’s bed.
“Me too,” Adam is saying. “He was in the UDR military but executed as a traitor. I still don’t know why.”
“What about your mom?” Xu asks.
Adam shakes his head. “I don’t know. Someday I’ll look for her. But I don’t even know where to start.”
Xu looks up. “Oh. Hi, Xoey.”
“Hi, Xu.” I smile, but it feels tight.
Adam’s eyes meet mine, encouraging me. Last night when I told him I couldn’t visit Xu alone again, he offered to be here.
“Guilt can eat a person up,” Adam said. “Even if what he’s done is unforgivable, it can’t hurt to listen, right?”
“There’s nothing that can’t be forgiven,” I said automatically.
Adam frowned; his eyes clouded with that haunted look I still don’t understand. “You believe that?”
I thought about Xu and Brock, then about Sam’s dead kitten. “I don’t know,” I said. “I want to. It’s what I was taught, but…”
“But people do horrible things,” Adam said. “And sometimes, there’s just no way to make it right.”
The next morning I find Bess doing push-ups in the courtyard. I sit on the edge of the fountain, waiting for her to finish. Eventually I lose count and get lost in my thoughts until she jumps to her feet and sits next to me, breathing hard in between sips of water.
I nudge her with my shoulder. “You okay?”
She smiles vaguely and nudges back. “I’m just a wee bit worried about Harvey.”
“The spy in the Sand?” I don’t know much about him, except that he’s been there for more than two years, works for the UDR military, and provides the Resistance with little scraps of intelligence they must use carefully so as not to get him in trouble.
Bess nods. “He usually checks in like clockwork. I’ve been especially wanting to hear if there’s any UDR chatter about the safe house Omega Squad found in the desert. But we have’nae heard from him.”
I lean against my elbows. “Have you ever met?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’ve come to see him as a friend. If they’ve caught him…”
“Wouldn’t we have heard? I mean, there are other spies in the Sand, right? And other operatives who work outside your network?”
Bess nods. “Yes. Dozens of rebel groups and hundreds more workin’ on their own. We’ve put out some feelers, but so far, nothin’.”
Since the first time Bess told me about Harvey, I have thought of him often, wondering what it would be like, pretending to be someone you are not while supporting a secret agenda. What lengths does he go to
in order to protect his true purpose? Does he make real friends along the way, or is everything he does meant to further the cause? Does he sleep well at night, or is he constantly worrying about detection?
Of course, every time I think of Harvey, Oliver comes to mind too, and my feelings waver between anxiety and betrayal. Why didn’t he ever tell me he was a spy? Surely he knew he could trust me to keep his secret.
As long as he is under Kino’s lock and key, I will have no answers to those questions, so I shake my head and focus on Bess.
“What will happen if they discover he’s a spy?”
“Depends.” She studies her boots. “They might torture him for information or use him the way Reed’s mum was held to make him cooperate with Kino. They might put him on trial like Haak and Mariscal, or…”
“Or what?”
“They might just take him outside and shoot him in the head.”
“Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come,
But Grace has brought me safe, thus far,
And Grace will lead me home…”
I stop singing and pull off my reflective cloak. Adam is standing at the base of the bleachers, watching me.
“You shouldn’t be out here.” He has an old-fashioned pair of headphones dangling from his neck, but he hasn’t bothered to turn off the music. Whatever he’s listening to has a strong, palpitating rhythm, but I can’t tell what it is.
“There’s no satellite until tomorrow morning.” I hate how guilty I sound.
“You know drones could be on top of us in less time than it would take you to get back underground, right?” His eyes pass between the tackle field and the library, which is the closest entrance to the tunnels. “Why come out this far?”
“This is the last place Reed saw Oliver. Xu saw him here too. I just thought…” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I guess I just needed some sense of connection to him.”
He frowns. “He’s not here. And he’d want you to be safe. To make sensible decisions.”
Suddenly my anger flares. “I don’t care what Oliver would want right now, Adam! I’m here, on my own, trying to figure out what to do—how to rescue him.”
“You’re not on your own.”
“Really? So you’re all in, Adam? You believe me when I say with certainty that Kino has Oliver locked up somewhere near my father, that she is torturing him and taunting me about it on national television?”
“It’s possible.”
“Possible.” I nod. “Great, Adam. And what are you willing to do with ‘possible’?”
“I don’t know what to do!” he shouts. “You think I’m not frustrated too, Xoey? But what do we do? For my part, I have to believe that Oliver would want me to pick up where he left off, helping the Resistance, sacrificing whatever I can to support this cause he gave his life for.”
“No!” I wag my finger at him. “No, you don’t get to give up on him, Adam. Oliver is not a martyr—he’s alive and hurting. And, maybe I’m going crazy, but do you want to know what occurred to me a few minutes ago? Maybe I should stay out here on purpose. Maybe I should let a drone spot me! Everyone thinks I was kidnapped, right? So if I just sit here and wait, maybe someone will come along and take me to Kino. Then I can ask her face to face. I can ask her what she’s done with Oliver!”
Adam sighs and puts his hand over his mouth, probably holding back the blistering he wants to give me for even considering such a plan. We glare at each other for a solid minute before he sighs again and offers me his hand.
“Come on,” he says quietly. “I’ll walk you back.”
We walk in awkward silence for a few minutes. “What are you listening to?” I finally ask.
“Linkin Park. ‘One Step Closer.’” He offers me his headphones. I listen for a few seconds then hand them back.
“He sounds angry. I like it.”
Adam laughs. “Sometimes it’s…good to listen to someone scream out their pain.”
I nod. “Especially when you can’t.”
“What were you singing back there?” He tilts his head back toward the bleachers.
“Amazing Grace.”
“Grace.” He shakes his head. “That’s one of those words I don’t get.”
“It just means a gift you didn’t deserve. The song is about redemption. Atonement. Being forgiven of something that’s unforgivable.”
Adam frowns. “I always got the impression that Christianity was about holding people accountable—judging people who don’t measure up.”
“That’s what they teach in core academies,” I say. “I’m sure some people practice it like that, but that is not what I was taught in church, or what I read in the Bible. I learned that love and grace are the basics of Christianity.”
He shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure some things are just too big to be forgiven, Xoey.”
“You mean like slave trading?”
He stops walking and turns to look at me, his ebony skin shining in the moonlight. “What?”
“The man who wrote ‘Amazing Grace’ was John Newton. I read about him in the Hidden Library. He was a slave trader, Adam. As evil as they come. Years later, he looked back on what he had done with horror and regret. He devoted his life to the cause of abolition and helped write policies that made slave trading illegal in England. But even then, he couldn’t undo what he had done, could he? There was no going back. There was no amount of good that would outweigh his evil.”
Adam starts walking again. “Like I said. Some things are too horrible for redemption.”
“Newton found redemption in Christ,” I say. “He found Grace. He found a savior who forgives what the world says is unforgivable.”
We have reached the library now. Adam opens the door and I pass through. Together we take familiar steps leading down to the basement.
“I’m glad those stories help you, Xoey. That they give you peace, or whatever. But I’m not wired that way. I think if you screw up big, you pay for it yourself.”
“And if you can’t?” I ask. “If the burden of your guilt is too much to bear?”
“Then it buries you,” he says. “And that’s probably what you deserve.”
I find Bess in the Sentribot tower nearest the train yard the next night. Adam would probably lecture me again if he saw me heading this far out, but I cannot get into too much trouble if I’m with the boss, can I?
“I think you might hate being underground almost as much as me,” I say as I reach the top of the ladder.
“Then you’d be right, lass.” She pats the platform next to her. “Sit. Mind the splinters, though.”
I glance up before sitting down, noticing the umbrella-style reflection cloak she has opened and rigged to shelter us from random drone sightings. She sighs when she notices the direction of my gaze.
“It gets tiresome,” she says, “always thinkin’ about watchin’ eyes. I long for the day when we’re free of all this, Xoey. When we’re free to roam and breathe under an open sky.”
I can’t help wondering if Bess is thinking of Scotland when she talks about freedom. But is it a free country? I know next to nothing about foreign places. When our core academy teachers talked about the European Union, the Mexican and Chinese Empires, or the Islamic State, they were always vague. Bess has revealed next to nothing about her homeland, usually changing the subject whenever it came up. But she wasn’t there last night when Ozzy started telling us a story set in the Scottish Highlands.
“Did you know Scotland and England are on the same little island on the other side of the Atlantic?” Ozzy began. “And there was a monarchy there—a royal family that ruled the Brits for hundreds of years. Well, at least they kinda ruled. I mean, in later years it was a constitutional monarchy, which gave them no real power, but still. They were popular figureheads for a long time. Then a party of anti-monarchists rose to power and the royal family was abolished.”
“When did that happen?” Quyen asked.
“More than si
xty years ago, I think. At least ten years before the UDR was established. Most of the royals slunk off to live private lives, but some were tracked down by zealots who feared the monarchy would return. They killed a lot of them.”
“How many?” Quyen asked.
“Who knows? Maybe most of them. There’s a story out of Scotland about a descendant of the royal family who was raised in hiding somewhere in the Highlands. And get this—he didn’t even know his own history. This kid had no idea he had royal blood, that he was, in fact, a direct descendant of Queen Elizabeth, the longest reigning monarch in English history. But, of course, someone found out about him. A few years ago, he was driven out of hiding, kidnapped for ransom, then ultimately murdered.”
That’s when Bess showed up, looking none too pleased. “Murdered? Ozzy, why are you talkin’ mince?”
He put his hands up. “I swear, that’s what I heard.”
“You heard? Well that’s barry!” She shook her head and sat heavily on the cot beside me. “And you believe every wee bit of yarn you hear, is that it?”
Ozzy crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, you tell the story then, since you’re an expert.”
“Of course I’m an expert, you tube! I’m Scottish!” She narrowed her eyes. “But I have better uses for my time. And you, Ozzy, are due to patrol the south perimeter tonight, so get aff’yer bum and back to work.”
Tonight Bess and I sit in comfortable silence in the Sentribot tower for several minutes before I spoil it by bringing up the story. “I was thinking about the royal kid Ozzy told us about last night…”
Bess sighs. “Ozzy needs to learn to shut his gob.”
“I’m sorry to bring it up,” I say, “but it gave me an idea. Or, rather, part of an idea about how we might find Oliver.”
She tilts her head, frowning at me. “Well this I’ve got to hear.”
“It’s a bit convoluted, but first things first.” I take a deep breath and try to ignore the way my heart is suddenly flip-flopping inside my chest. “I need your help convincing General Kelly to send me home to my father.”
Weeping Justice Page 18
