Beat (10 page)

My stomach growling painfully, I examined the right sleeve. It was caked brown from the elbow all the way to the cuff. It also had Bren’s vomit on it. I hadn’t noticed the blood because it had run down the side of the sleeve I couldn’t see. Gripping the zip tightly, I lowered the right sleeve into the stream and swished it around to try to get some of the blood off. I looked up, amazed at the blueness of the sky.

I’d never noticed it before because there was always so much to see at eye level. I never thought to look above me. I scanned the horizon, noting the thin, hazy cloud off to the east, and the rolling, uneven swath of trees that blanketed the hills all around me. A person could get lost in—

A thin cloud. There were no clouds anywhere else in the sky.

I looked more intently. Not a cloud. That was smoke. A nearly invisible column of smoke coming from the forest off to the east, maybe a kilometer away.

People. There were people out here.

Maybe they had something to eat. My stomach complained noisily, tightening at the thought of finally getting some food in me. I wanted to go find whoever had the fire going, but I didn’t know if they would help me. I might be assuming too much. But I didn’t have much of a choice.

I grabbed my zip and eased my arms through the now cold, wet sleeves and then got on the CyJet. It came to life under me. I rode toward the tree line that was about fifty meters away. These trees were significantly smaller than the redwoods I’d slept under, but they were still taller than any of the buildings in New Frisko. The shortest ones couldn’t have been less than forty meters or so tall. Some were the stretched out triangles of pines while others were the rounded deciduous types I’d seen farther north. The CyJet easily coasted over the stream and up the slight rise to the tree line.

My thoughts raced as I wondered what was the best way to approach these people. They had to be people who’d escaped from one of the cities. Maybe even New Frisko. Enforsers might come out here to try bringing them back. If so, should I take the CyJet or leave it?

I decided the walk might help my muscles loosen up somewhat, and it was better to be safe than sorry. I laughed at that thought. Just like the Announsers always said. But they were probably right this time. I didn’t want to startle whoever that was in there. I wondered if they knew I was around.

Only one way to find out.
Bren always said that.
He’d always been braver than me, like when we’d first met. I’d never have thought another kid would do something like help me sit up in my desk—they would have been too embarrassed. But Bren was just a good guy.

I parked the CyJet about ten meters past the tree line behind a few saplings, hoping to keep it from being noticed by anybody who might come by. I chose a dark, sticky pine tree to hide the CyJet behind. This tree was surrounded by other, flat-leaf trees. I was probably being more careful than I needed to be in the middle of the wilderness. There was no way anyone else could possibly stop by this area any time soon. This was in the middle of nowhere. A hundred years ago, people had regularly driven by on that road. I wondered if they ever came out and appreciated what the world looked like without people messing it up.

Life would be so different out here. No lights, no nutrition center in a house to make sure you got exactly the right food every day. No Speekers blaring into your ear every second that you walked down the rubbery sidewalks of downtown. No long, classes or boring shifts in the Domes or at the Dumps. You could do whatever you wanted, whenever.

As I walked in the direction that I saw the column of smoke rising, I tried to imagine how these people must live, how they slept and ate. It was possible they grew their own food or even killed animals.

My path took me around countless trees, and I had to dodge roots almost constantly. At least there wasn’t any of the tall grass that had grabbed at my pants as I’d crossed the field between the road and the forest. I had no trouble seeing where I was going, but the stiffness in my body made the sometimes-jarring path hurt. I found myself wincing with nearly every step.

I’d been wrong, too. After twenty minutes, I was sure I’d walked a kilometer or more, but I still couldn’t see or hear any people. I did hear birds chirping and what seemed like an almost imperceptible hum. It wasn’t the hum of machinery like the CyJet or the things in the Enjineering Dome. This hum was almost more felt than seen. If I stood still enough, I thought I could probably feel the hum under my feet and on my skin. It was as if the voices of the birds, the trees, the other vegetation, and whatever other animals called the forest their home all combined into a faint rhythm I could just barely make out. Was it ever completely silent in the forest? I hadn’t noticed any noises last night, but I’d been so tired that I doubted I would have even heard Enforsers if they had shown up.

As I made my way through the forest, enjoying the strange, warm smells that came to me, I realized that the trees were growing more thickly and that there was more brush. I had to struggle pretty hard at times to break through some of the tight weaves of low trees and bushes.

I was making so much noise that it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when, as I drew even closer to the smoke column, two men appeared in front of me and I heard another step behind me. But it did and my heart felt like it jumped up to my throat. I had to stay calm despite my shock at actually finding people out here. What would they do with me?

As long as there was food involved, I didn’t really care.

“Don’t move,” the one behind me said. I glanced quickly behind me and then forward again. All three men carried black weapons that looked similar to the Keepers the Enforsers carried but more weathered. The men wore mottled pants and loose-fitting shirts—all of them in earthy tones. They also wore some kind of boot that I’d never seen, with thick soles and a dull, brown finish. Their hair was longer than the rules in New Frisko allowed, and the man behind me wore a beard.

After looking behind me, I stood still and put out my left hand. “It’s okay.”

“I said don’t move.” Something hard jabbed me on my back.

I winced. “I’m not.”

“Who are you?” asked one of the men in front of me. His hair was dark brown, whereas his companion’s was so blond that it looked almost white. “Where did you come from?”

“Nobody.” I felt defensive. I wasn’t trying to attack them. They could tell I was alone and beat up.

“Your name,” growled the blond. His voice sounded like the propulsion unit on an Enforser pod, high-pitched, breathy, and with a strange whine on the top end of it. “Now.”

“Nik.” I looked around. What was wrong with these guys? “Nik Granjer. I’m from New Frisko.”

The men in front of me looked at each other for a long moment. The blond turned to me. “What are you doing here?”

“I got away. I had to leave,” I said. “And why are you doing this? I’m just looking for some help.”

“You’ve come to the wrong place,” the blond rasped. “Go home.” The brown-haired one stepped closer to the blond and whispered in his ear. The blond shook his head. “Not worth it.”

“Look, I can’t go back.” I tried to keep my voice strong, but last night’s events were piling up in my head. My throat tightened. “But if you won’t help me, fine. I’ll go somewhere else.” I made as if to turn.

“Not yet,” the one behind me said. He prodded me with his weapon again. “First we get answers.”

“Stan,” the blond rasped. “We’ll get ‘em here.” He gestured to the small clearing where they had stopped me.

“Come on,” the brown-haired one said. “He’s hurt, Dolfo. He’s obviously in trouble.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the blond, Dolfo, said. “No chances.” He looked over my shoulder. “Bind him.”

I felt the gun shift at my back as the bearded man, who must be Stan, pulled some thick twine from a pocket. Briefly, I entertained the idea that maybe I could make a break for it.

But there was no point in that. Maybe they’d still help me if they got their “answers.”

Stan reached for my left arm and tugged it behind my back, going for my right arm too. I winced and hissed, dodging his second grab. “Hey!” he cried out.

Dolfo was on me in less than a second, using his weapon as a club on my side and shoulder. Fresh agony lit up my injured right arm and ribs and I nearly blacked out, dropping to my knees. What was wrong with this guy?

As I’d dropped, Stan had let go of my left arm, so now it was free to cradle my right arm tightly to my stomach. “Stop!” I shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Bind him!” Dolfo repeated, threatening me with his gun again.

Stan went for my arms and, although I tried to dodge again, he got both. He yanked my right arm and a volcano of white agony exploded. My vision went bright and then completely black, and I fell backward. Stan pushed me hard and suddenly I was on my stomach, the spears of pain flashing through me.

Someone was screaming. When my throat felt like it was shredding, I realized it was me.

I heard voices shouting as my awareness faded. I couldn’t believe the pain. I felt like a wild animal was suddenly chewing my arm off.

“Stop it! Stan, let him go!”

My arm dissolved into shards of flaming glass and I blacked out for a moment. When I came to, I was being pushed over onto my back. I had no movement in my right arm and it was throbbing along the entire length with blinding pain. My stomach heaved and all the water I’d drank earlier splattered across my chest.

Whoever was pushing me over shouted “Hey!” and let go. I felt him jump away from me.

Laughter echoed around me. It sounded a metal brush sliding down pavement—had to be Dolfo. “See where kindness gets you?”

“Shut up,” the man who I guessed was kneeling next me said. I opened my eyes. It was the brown-haired one, the one without a beard. He leaned closer. “You’re injured.”

I swallowed, trying to open my throat. I felt pulverized, totally empty. The pain in my arm stole any thought before it could solidify.

The man lifted my injured arm; the added pain simply made the bright throbbing glow hotter. I groaned and wished I could black out, maybe for longer. “No,” I said. The simple word sounded odd to me. Like I’d heard it through a long tunnel.

“Stan, Dolfo, this boy’s seriously hurt.” The man set my arm down, leaving it slightly bent on my torso. “Back off.”

“He could be faking,” came the raspy voice.

“He’s not. This arm’s broken, at least a little.”

“You’re too trusting, Mat,” Dolfo said. I tried to crane my neck a little to see where the blond was standing. The movement tugged my shoulder too much and another pain flared up. Would the throbbing ever go away?

“Shut up,” the man kneeling next to me said. Then he turned to me. “It’s okay. I can see you’re hurt.” His eyes moved away from mine and took me in from head to toe. “Badly. You’re a mess.”

I grunted. I knew that. Did they have anything that would stop this pain? I would almost go to New Frisko right now just to get some of the painkiller that the Meds handed out as needed. I needed a huge dose.

“My name’s Mat,” the man said. “Sorry about that. We’ll help you.” He looked up.

I wished they’d move faster. Tendrils of pain made their way from my arm into my chest. I felt like my whole body would be consumed. It had to stop. I needed something. Maybe the arm just needed to be cut off.

“Stan, Dolfo, come on. Let’s get him up.” I watched as Mat stood and moved to my left side. “But don’t touch his right arm.”

Being manhandled to my feet felt almost as bad as getting hit by rubber bullets. Mat pulled my left arm across his shoulders. “You can stand, so do it.”

I planted my feet, gritting my teeth. The throbbing wasn’t fading. I’d never felt this kind of agony before. I couldn’t catch my breath and my heart slammed loudly in my chest and behind my eyes. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks, but I didn’t care.

“Hold him,” Dolfo grunted.

Mat’s grip on me tightened, but not painfully. Dolfo patted under my arms, then down my sides and legs. When he got to my zip pocket, he found the nanocutter and pulled it out. He examined it. “Looks useful.” He shoved it in a pocket of his light coat and finished whatever he was doing. Did he think I had weapons?

“Hey,” I said. “That’s mine.”

Dolfo stopped for a moment and fixed me with a bemused expression. “Not anymore.” He turned and nodded to Stan.

“Come on, it’s not far,” Mat said. He took a step. He nearly dragged me the first few meters, but I was finally able to get my legs to listen to me. Mat was a few inches taller than me, too, so I felt like I was being pulled and stretched the entire time.

I gulped air. Stan was walking ahead of us while Dolfo took up the rear. What? Did he think I was going to try to get away? Was he insane? Couldn’t he see the shape I was in? Anger at the treatment I’d received flared in me. Tucking my arm tightly to my abdomen to keep it from being jostled, I tried harder to keep up with Mat. Dodging brush, roots, and tree trunks became more difficult as Mat tried to support me through the walk. A couple of times I felt him nearly lose his grip. Once, I stumbled and slipped nearly free of him. I went to a knee, resisting the urge to stop my fall with my right arm.

“Sorry,” Mat said. He grimaced and helped me back up. “Sorry. You’re heavier than you look.”

I grunted.

After walking what felt like at least a kilometer, we rounded a hill covered in rocks, bushes, and trees and came to the camp. This deep into the trees, I hadn’t been able to see the column of smoke anymore, so I was surprised to suddenly see a large number of people, at least twenty, moving around a fire and several structures.

Our appearance brought the camp to a momentary standstill. Then voices were raised and people burst into motion. Several men approached at a run, grabbing guns from a row of weapons leaning against a rock. Women called to children, and it looked like they began to tear down the camp.

“It’s okay,” Mat called. “It’s all right. He’s not a Ranjer. He’s hurt.”

“He’s alone,” Stan chimed in. “Broken arm.”

Dolfo appeared, walking around us and toward the fire. “Unless it’s a trap.”