Children of the Uprising Collection

by Megan Lynch

  “Well, they liked the third idea, but the idea of striking hurts the whole group. We could all deal with things not being as clean as usual for a while, but someone has to keep watch, someone has to feed us. We could go without food for a little while, but if they informed their contact that there was a coup, we might not get any food for the foreseeable future. So, in the end, they decided on Number Two. We elected representatives from the dorms.”

  “And where—”

  “Karale and Danovan and Tommy are locked in the youth dorm. We moved the kids into the dorms with us. We’ve got people guarding them, and Taye’s interrogating them. We still need to know where their ties are, and how deep. They’ve admitted to communicating with people on the outside, but they won’t say whether it’s Metrics or someone else.”

  “We think it’s the Red Sea,” said Jude.

  “But they won’t say that,” added Stephen.

  “Why not? Why wouldn’t they want us to know that?” asked Samara.

  “Because,” said Stephen, “they don’t want us to go looking for help. They may have made a deal with the Red Sea, promised to keep us safe for a while, and don’t want us to undermine the relationship.”

  “Keep us safe until when?” asked Samara.

  “These are questions we don’t have answers to. We have to wait until they tell us, or until we figure it out. We’re working on it. We think JoJo knows a bit more than he thinks, or maybe he just doesn’t know how to say it. He’s only seven.”

  “I could try to talk to him,” said Jude. “You know, ask him if he knows where the food lady is from, if he knows who the Bird is. For the things he doesn’t know, I could put together a list of questions for her the next time he meets with her. I could even rehearse with him.”

  “Good idea, Jude.” Samara turned back to Stephen. “One more question.”

  “Bristol’s still missing.” They were the first words Denver had spoken since she walked in. “We had to coax JoJo a little, but he told the group that he knew Bristol was innocent. But he wouldn’t say how he knew. We were hoping he’d come back to see what happened after our meeting.”

  “But he hasn’t yet?”

  “No.”

  Something suddenly occurred to Samara. “Which way did they take him?”

  “South. Toward the road,” said Denver. “The leaders told us that right away.”

  Stephen realized it, too. He stood up. “Oh my God.”

  “They led him toward the lasercams.” said Samara.

  “Which aren’t just weapons.”

  “They’re cameras.” Samara’s heart quickened. “Our location has been compromised. We’re not safe here.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jude listened as Samara, Stephen, and Denver strategized. They decided to act immediately: first, Stephen went to question the leaders about Bristol’s location. Tommy confessed to sending Bristol into the laser cam line of fire right away, then turned white after a glance at the horrified expressions on the faces of Karale and Danovan. After that, the three former leaders bickered about whose fault it was that they were now in danger and wouldn’t allow themselves to be interrupted.

  Denver turned to Jude as the shouting grew louder. “Jude, we need you to go get JoJo. Take him to a quiet place where he feels safe and get any information you can. Come back to us right away when you think you have anything at all. Metrics may already be on their way.”

  Jude left, relieved and reeling from what this place did to ordinary people. On the outside, people didn’t shout at each other—they barely even had arguments. With the watches they’d worn that tracked their every move—and probably most of their words—and told them where to be and when, they’d never had the opportunity to fight it out. All you’d had to do was to enter the situation into an application and Metrics would tell you who was right and who was wrong. Here, everything was so different, so gray…he never fully appreciated how difficult it would be to run a country. Ruling themselves was threatening to end in disaster. He wondered if this was why the uprising happened in the first place—if a similar catastrophic exercise in democracy was the reason Metrics existed at all.

  He found JoJo with a few other boys and gratefully realized that he knew at least one of them—Cork. They were passing around a shrinking cigarette. Jude had his marching orders and no intention of wasting time, but Cork stood and gestured toward himself.

  “He’s had a hard night, man.” Cork spoke in a hushed register. “He blames himself for what happened to that guy. If your friends want to see him, ask if they can wait until he sleeps a little.”

  The space between Jude’s brows shortened. “It can’t wait. But they don’t want to see him. Just me. I need to ask him some questions and then go back. You can stay if you want, if you think it’ll make him more comfortable.”

  Cork straightened his back and glanced back at the huddle of little men. “Henry is his best friend. Let Henry stay, and we’ll all go. I think you’ll get the best answers that way.”

  With a silent gesture, Cork directed all the other boys back inside the dorm and left Jude alone on the stoop with JoJo and Henry.

  “He don’t know nothin’ but what he already told ya,” said Henry.

  “That may be true,” he said, “But I’d like to help him remember anything he may not.” He turned to JoJo. “Metrics might know about this place and we all might be in danger right now.”

  JoJo and Henry exchanged rattled looks. JoJo wiped his nose with the back of his hand while Henry put out the cigarette. “What do you want to know?” asked JoJo. His eyes were red and swollen and his seven-year-old voice held the drudge of the cigarette.

  “Who is the lady you met with?”

  JoJo held his gaze down and coughed. Jude reached for his thermos attached to his belt and offered it to him.

  “What’s that?” JoJo asked.

  “Just hot water. It’ll make your throat feel better.”

  The little boy took a long drink, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Her name is Miss Gwen.”

  “Why do you meet with her?”

  “She gives us food.”

  “How does she have all that food to give?”

  “It’s not her food. It’s Canada’s food.”

  “The food is from Canada?”

  “The food, the water, the protection, everything. Miss Gwen says the gumin gives us what we need, and they’re coming to get us and bring us to Canada, and then it’ll be our gumin, too.”

  “Government? The Canadian Government is supporting us?”

  “That’s what he just said,” interjected Henry.

  Jude decided to ignore him. “What about the Red Sea?”

  “The what?”

  Jude drew in cold air and studied JoJo’s face. Nothing. “Never mind. Tell me everything the leaders told you to do when they gave you this job, okay?”

  “Okay.” JoJo sniffled. “I was in laundry, but then Danovan got hurt and couldn’t do this job anymore. He was the one who used to go into town, but Metrics shot at him and made his arm bleed. Then he didn’t want to do it anymore, so he asked me. I thought it sounded like fun, but I didn’t want to get shot and bleed, so I started crying. Danovan told me, ‘Hold on, wait a second,’ and then he got something out of his desk drawer, and it was a real gun. And he said, ‘If you don’t do this job, I’ll make you bleed here.’ I couldn’t help it; I cried more. But I said okay, I’ll do it. But that was the only scary part—Miss Gwen is nice and she even made the gumin change towns so I didn’t have to go to the place where they shot Danovan.”

  “Does Miss Gwen ever tell you when they’ll come get us?”

  “No. She just says, ‘Soon, baby,’ and then she gives me a hug.” JoJo’s eyes were suddenly wet. “She’s going to get worried if I don’t go meet her. Do I still get to keep my job?”

  Jude wanted to be honest, but he needed answers, not a meltdown. He tried to answer JoJo like Samara would. “Of course you do. Now, what hap
pened with Bristol?”

  “Him? I just went back to the car and Mister Stan had him tied up with rope. He sat between Mister Stan and me, so he couldn’t jump out of the car. I asked why would he jump out, since he’s all tied up and he’d just bounce? Mister Stan said shut up, he didn’t know what this guy was doing but it probably wasn’t good. But Bristol looked at me and he didn’t look like he was a bad guy. I’m pretty good at telling who the bad guys are.”

  “Yeah, you get good at that here. Is Mister Stan a bad guy?”

  “No, he’s not. He’s just a scared guy. Like me.” JoJo covered his face with his hands. “I wanted to tell Mister Stan not to tell Danovan, but Danovan told me he’d make me bleed if I told anyone about the gun too. Then when we saw Bristol again, he was bleeding. It’s my fault.”

  JoJo sobbed. Henry’s jaw quivered as he surveyed his friend. Jude wished he had cigarettes of his own to offer. He remembered what JoJo said about Miss Gwen. Jude had only been hugged by one person in his life—Samara—but he remembered that it felt nice, so he decided to try it now. He put an awkward arm around JoJo’s back and patted his head with the other hand. It definitely didn’t feel right, but it seemed to calm JoJo down, or perhaps confuse him enough to make the crying stop.

  “One more question,” said Jude. “And if you know, it’s important that you tell me now. Who is the Bird?”

  “That’s another man. He’s not here, but I don’t think he’s a Canada person either.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I only saw him once, when Miss Gwen wanted to change the town we met in. He was an old guy, and he wore a watch. I don’t think they do that in Canada.”

  Jude drew his arms back, looked up into the sky, and groaned.

  “What’s that?” asked JoJo.

  “Snow.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bristol found a low tree with branches that looked to provide a sort of umbrella, so he ducked under it. He’d heard the name ‘weeping willow’ once and thought it was a magnificent name, but this didn’t seem to be one. He’d only seen a picture in one of Denver’s books, a sprawling monster that didn’t look like it was weeping at all, but seemed to sit lavishly, enjoying the space it was taking for its own. The tree he sat under now was squat, almost a bush. But Bristol didn’t need luxury right now. He need a reason to stop and think, and a place to do it. Now Nature had given him both.

  From the moment Tommy began leading him toward the lasercams, Bristol had decided to go with him as far as Tommy would dare to go, then find a place to wait until morning. The only thing that had worried him was his certainty that Tommy would lead him all the way to the road, and wouldn’t turn back until he was sure Bristol had been zapped. But he’d turned out to be a coward as well as a fool—he’d merely pointed Bristol in the direction of the road, given him a spiteful little push, and run away. Thinking fast, Bristol had stumbled forward, hoping to project helplessness, and then run toward the lasercam himself and thrown a rock in its direction. He’d heard the shock of the laser ring through the woods, and Bristol had hit the ground, hoping Tommy would report back that his plan had worked.

  Now, hours later, as Bristol watched the snow smother the ground below, he realized it wouldn’t be wise to travel back now, leaving tracks behind in the sunlight. He hoped the group stuck to the decision to switch days and nights, so they’d be safe inside if any drones flew overhead.

  While Tommy had prodded him toward the line of lasercams—the dolt—Bristol had looked back to catch a startling image: a man carrying Samara. She seemed to be conscious, which was a good sign, but why did she allow herself to be carried at all? It wasn’t like her. Samara had a teacher’s heart, a caretaker’s spirit, so she wouldn’t just allow herself to be carried at the drop of a hat unless…unless…

  Denver’s warnings of mistrust rang through his memory. Samara had been off night-watch duties for more than a week now, and Bristol still had only vague ideas of what life was like on campus for people who had day shifts. What if she was getting friendly with this guy? They hadn’t talked much since she’d changed positions, but she had said there was another teacher working with her and conspicuously failed to mention the gender of this teacher. At the time, Bristol had thought it would seem stupid and jealous to ask. Now he wished he had risked being stupid and jealous.

  More snow fell to the earth in large chunks. Bristol’s exhaustion consumed him and made him pant. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, and if he didn’t get some sleep on his own terms soon, he’d drift away and fall victim to hypothermia before he found out what happened in the group. He got up, found a place in the sun, and cleared away leaves until he unearthed a small patch of ground. He gathered some rocks from the nearby stream and arranged them in a circle, then worked to light a fire with two sticks.

  As he worked and looked for sparks, his mind stayed with Samara. Come to think of it, they really hadn’t talked much about their relationship since they were taken in at St. Mary’s. Bristol had thought that was nice back then; he thought in pictures rather than words anyway—pictures were so much more useful for explaining what you really meant, unlike words, which meant so many different things to different people. He’d waited for the first chance he got—the first time they were alone had been their first night watch shift together. They’d walked into the forest, and he’d taken her hand. He’d felt her change at just his touch, like water turning to steam. He’d kissed her deeply while she’d slid her hands under his shirt and caressed his back. Without a word, they’d knelt together on the forest floor. He’d been clumsy and graceless, but Samara hadn’t even seemed to notice. She made him feel like something precious; someone chosen. She’d pulled at him until her breaths had become gulps. He’d tried to back away from her then, to stop her pain, but she’d just drawn him closer.

  After that, they’d discussed what a foolish idea it had been, however magnificent. They hadn’t wanted to be split up, but the leaders had made it clear that romance was discouraged and that couples would not be allowed to be alone together. They’d just pretended to be platonic in public and snuck affection when they could. And that was the last time they’d spoken about their relationship. That had been six months ago.

  Bristol shivered. Still no fire, but he kept trying. When he was on the night watch, Bristol wore his long underwear, wool socks, several layers of shirts, his big hunting coat, gloves, and a thick toboggan that covered his ears. He’d removed his coat and hat to talk to Denver this morning. That conversation seemed like it was months ago. The temptation to turn the bitter cold into bitter thoughts about himself for leaving his outerwear back in his dorm was strong, but he reminded himself that Tommy likely would have taken them anyway. Why not take the chance that he’d freeze to death?

  Finally, the smallest of sparks appeared and grew into a meager flame. He worked a while longer to keep it going. The line of smoke rising into the sky, weak and wispy as it was, presented a risk, but Bristol took it, gathered leaves around himself, and fell asleep.

  He woke as the sun was setting. His muscles ached from their constant tension, but Bristol barely noticed—his joy at waking up at all overwhelmed him. He scrambled to his feet and put out the embers of his fire, walked the stones back down to the stream, and when the dark covered the land again, he set off in what he hoped was the direction of the monastery.

  He walked for a long time without knowing for sure where he was going. True, he was only here the night before, and they hadn’t changed directions many times, but Bristol might as well have been a different person back then—his body’s need for sleep and recovery from his injuries was enough to overwhelm him, but then there was this question of Samara in the man’s arms as well. He’d been useless to his future self last night, not that he could have even been sure that there would be a future self for him to watch out for. He felt much better now, and assured himself that Samara would have an explanation for him when he returned. He stopped for a moment to
compose himself.

  There was a funny sound behind him—a sound he’d never heard before. Like a growl low in someone’s throat.

  He turned slowly. What he saw shocked him—an animal. A wild animal.

  It was about the size of a dog, though it was not like any of the dogs he’d seen roaming the streets, and grayish, with a long nose and teeth that Bristol could see even though they were relatively far away from each other. They stood staring at each other, man and beast, for what seemed like a long time before the wheels in Bristol’s mind began turning. He heard a small voice inside say run, and only then did he realize that he was afraid.

  Another one appeared, this one slightly larger and browner. Bristol stared at him, too. They were so far, though, and Bristol needed to get a closer look. He took a small step toward them. The animals took a step back. They’re afraid of me, thought Bristol. No wonder. He was sure that, at some point, his species had tried to murder theirs.

  Two more of them appeared on either side of the two that were already there, and together, they began to advance, all of them making that noise and showing teeth. Now the voice in Bristol’s head was a little stronger: this time, it said climb. He lunged for a tree in front of them as they ran to catch him. One of them got its mouth around Bristol’s boot and threatened to drag him down, but Bristol kicked—in self-defense or in an effort to get up the tree, or maybe both—and the animal yelped and let go. This tree wasn’t a good one for climbing—there were no branches for a long way up, so Bristol had to clutch with his arms and legs wrapped around the truck. He shimmied up another few feet, making his forehead sticky with sweat. He looked down at the animals, still there beneath him. Several more had arrived to support their brethren. Bristol groaned. He had no food, no water, nowhere to rest. He threw back his head and roared Samara’s name into the forest.

  Chapter Fourteen