Children of the Uprising (21 page)

For some reason the words made Christopher think about his father—not his father in Maine, but the man whose genes he shared, the man that Christopher had never met. “I don't know what you're talking about,” Christopher replied.

Jin nodded. “You're young. In time, you'll know.” Jin glanced up and down the streets around them. “Let's go,” he said to them. They left the car parked on the side of the road in a spot that couldn't possibly have been legal. Christopher didn't ask questions, though. He didn't want another answer he couldn't understand.

The ferry terminal was on top of what was essentially a shopping mall that, other than a few bizarre food stands, didn't look much different from the shopping malls in Maine. Without saying much, Jin led Reggie and Christopher through the mall and up to the ferry terminal. He bought them their tickets and showed them where to go to catch the ferry, and then he disappeared as mysteriously as he'd come.

Reggie and Christopher didn't say anything about him until they were on the ferry. It was a big commuter ferry, carrying hundreds of people from Singapore to Indonesia. Christopher hadn't even known that Indonesia was anywhere near Singapore, but the ferry ride was only about an hour long. The ferry had no outdoor space. Everybody jammed inside on seats that made the inside of the boat look like a bus. A kung fu movie was playing on the giant television at the front of the ferry. Reggie picked his and Christopher's seats, about two-thirds of the way back, against a window. Moments later, the boat pulled away from the dock and into the harbor. “What was up with the bowing?” Christopher whispered to Reggie as he watched Singapore disappear behind them like a forgotten sequence of a long dream.

“You don't like the bowing?” Reggie asked Christopher.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven't done anything to earn it,” Christopher said.

“Well, accept it now,” Reggie told him, “because you're going to have to earn it later. And when you do, there won't be enough bows to balance those scales.” Reggie looked past Christopher and out the window. “I just wish I knew where the hell we're going.”

Christopher looked out the window too and wondered if where they were going even mattered.

Evan sat up in bed. He was sweating. It was two o'clock in the morning on the East Coast of the United States. Evan could feel the drops of sweat running down the side of his face. The room wasn't hot. He'd woken up suddenly, escaping the dream he'd been having the only way his brain knew how, by ejecting. Evan tried to calm his breathing. His chest was heaving almost to his chin with each drawn-out breath. Addy woke up too when she felt the bed move. “What's wrong?” she asked Evan, seeing the distress on his face. They were sleeping in a bed together for the first time. They had some money now. Reggie had made sure to leave Addy some money so that she would have the resources to do the job that he had left her. Reggie didn't know that she wasn't going to be doing the job alone. Evan and Addy found a cheap motel that fell within their new budget, justifying the cost by telling themselves that they both needed the rest before they started searching for Maria.

“I was only dreaming,” Evan said, half to himself, his voice relieved. “I keep having these dreams about fire.”

“What happens?” Addy asked him, reaching up and trying to comfort him by running her fingers along his back.

“I'm not even sure,” Evan told her. “Everything seems normal at first. At first, it's almost like a memory. I see me and Christopher and we're kids playing in the woods. I recognize the woods from back home. It's the woods that Christopher and I used to play in growing up. Christopher used to make up these crazy war games. We'd build these intricate camouflaged forts out of rocks and tree branches to hide in and then we'd run around diving over fallen trees and pretending we were fighting off an ambush. It's all so clear in my dream. It's like I'm there again, only I'm not living it this time. I'm watching it instead. Then, out of nowhere, everything bursts into flames—the trees, the ground, even the sky. The fire moves fast and it's so loud, like the sound of a giant wave that never stops breaking. Then I feel the heat. Then the fire gets to Christopher. Then the fire comes for me.”

“That must be why you're sweating,” Addy said. Evan nodded. “I think it's normal,” Addy assured him. “After everything we've been through, that's got to be totally normal. After what happened to us in L.A. and then seeing the remnants of my old compound in Florida. After what we've seen, I sometimes start to feel like the whole world is on fire even when I'm awake. Maybe the world is purging itself with the flames. That would at least explain everything.”

“I know. I know you're right, but the fire in my dreams seems different. It comes out of nowhere. My brain is never ready for it.” Even the memory of the dream gave Evan the chills.

“What happens after the fire? In your dreams, what happens next?”

“There is no after the fire. When the fire gets to Christopher, I always wake up. I wake up right before—” Evan stopped in midsentence. He didn't want to finish what he was saying. “I'm sorry I woke you up,” he said instead, looking back at Addy lying there in their bed. “I didn't mean to.”

“It's no problem,” Addy told him. “I was having trouble sleeping anyway.”

“Are you having nightmares too?”

Addy sat up in bed. She pressed her chest against Evan's back and spread her arms around him, locking her hands in front of his chest. She kissed him once on the back of the neck for no other reason than because she had the sudden desire to see the hairs on his neck rise with her kiss. “No,” Addy said. “I don't know how we're going to find her, that's all.”

“We'll find her,” Evan assured Addy. “Your friend Reggie gave us everything we need to get started. He told us where to go. He told us what she looks like and the name she goes by.”

“Do you think that's enough?” Addy asked.

“I do. Besides I think I'll recognize her.” Evan tried to picture Christopher's face on a thirty-five-year-old woman. “If she looks anything like Christopher, I'm sure I can spot her in a crowd.”

“I still can't believe Maria's alive,” Addy said. “Everyone thought she was dead. People said it like it was a fact, but all this time Reggie knew that she was alive. I don't know how he kept it a secret. I don't think I would have been able to. I wonder what she's like.”

Evan wondered too, but for vastly different reasons. “What do you think Reggie wants from Christopher's mother anyway?” he asked Addy.

“I don't know,” Addy answered. “I guess the only way to find out is to bring her to him.”

Evan nodded. “We should sleep,” he said. “We've got a long way to go tomorrow.”

“We should,” Addy replied, but then she kissed him on the neck again, longer and harder this time. After that it was some time before either one of them fell asleep again.

The sun was beginning to set as their boat neared its destination. The air was warm. The sensation of the boat rocking as it bounced over the waves nearly lulled Christopher to sleep, but he fought to stay awake. He was afraid of falling asleep. He was afraid of not knowing where he'd be when he woke up. Galang spoke better English than Jin had given him credit for. Galang found Reggie and Christopher in the ferry terminal with frightening ease. Hiding in crowds was an impossibility here. Reggie and Christopher had expected Galang to pick them up in a car. Instead, he led them away from the ferry terminal on foot. The three of them walked across the terminal's parking lot, through a gap in a chain-link fence, and down a long dirt road that ran parallel to the water. They walked for about a mile. Galang said nothing to them as they walked. He didn't tell them where they were going. He merely looked back at them every few hundred feet to make sure that they were still behind him and motioned them forward with his hands. They moved quickly. It was late in the afternoon. The sun was still hot and Reggie and Christopher were sweating as they walked. The heat didn't bother Galang. All he seemed to care about was the pace.

The farther they walked, the quieter everything became. Reggie kept glancing behind them, trying to make sure that they weren't being followed. Christopher only looked forward, doing everything he could to stay focused on what was in front of them. Eventually they came to a lone pier made of strung-together bamboo, jutting out into the South China Sea. A small boat was tied to the end of the pier, rising and falling as the waves lapped toward the shoreline. “My boat,” Galang said to Reggie and Christopher with a smile that betrayed his relief that the boat was still there.

“Where are you taking us?” Reggie asked again and it began to sound to Christopher like the chorus to a song he'd already heard too many times.

“Someplace safe,” Galang assured Reggie. Even though Christopher didn't believe the answer to be true, it made him feel better. “Come.” Galang beckoned them toward the pier with another wave of his hand. Reggie and Christopher followed Galang down toward the water. The pier shook as the three of them stepped onto it, bending with their weight but never showing any signs of breaking. It was built for this, to bend with the tides but to last. They walked to the end of the pier. Galang helped Reggie into the boat. Then he turned to Christopher. Before helping Christopher into the boat, Galang bowed deeply. “My honor,” he said to Christopher when he lifted his head from his bow. Then he helped Christopher climb aboard, untied the boat from the dock, and jumped aboard himself.

Galang's boat was long and thin. It didn't seem big, but it could have easily accommodated another ten passengers. The boat was the color of wood and was covered only with a single green tarp as a shade against the sun. Galang steered the boat into the busy sea and they quickly joined the flow of traffic as dozens of small wooden boats darted over the water, weaving between giant metal ships being loaded with hundreds of containers, each container the size of a truck. The little wooden boats were dwarfed by their larger cousins. Everything around Christopher seemed so foreign. He couldn't imagine that it would be possible for him to be any farther from home. He watched as two men stood astride their rowboat amid the giant ships and prodded the sea with a long bamboo pool.

“What are they doing?” Christopher asked Galang, pointing toward the men.

“They are feeling for lost scrap metal,” Galang told Christopher. “When they hit”—Galang mimicked holding the long pole with his hands—“they will dive for the metal.”

“Where's their scuba gear?”

Galang shook his head. “No gear. They have hose for breathing.” Christopher could see it, an ordinary garden hose coiled on the floor of their boat.

“That's insane,” Christopher said. Galang smiled and nodded. Christopher was pretty sure that Galang didn't understand what he'd said. Christopher glanced up at Reggie, who was sitting near the bow of the boat with his back to the sea. Christopher still couldn't get used to the insanity, not yet. He wondered if he should trust Reggie. Max had, and it would be awfully lonely if Christopher decided not to.

“How are you feeling?” Reggie shouted back to Christopher when he noticed Christopher staring at him.

“Tired,” Christopher answered. They were on Galang's boat for nearly two hours before they neared their destination. The farther they went, the fewer boats they saw. Eventually they saw nothing but tiny fishing boats hugging the shorelines of islands that they passed. Then, as the sun dipped below the far-off islands and the sky darkened to a bloodred color, they arrived. People were waiting for them on the pier; Reggie and Christopher could see their silhouettes standing there in the distance.

Galang had taken them to what looked from a distance to be a floating village connected by bamboo bridges to an otherwise deserted island. A few dozen huts stood on stilts above the water, connected to one another the same way they ultimately connected to the beach. Galang made a beeline for the biggest of the huts, the one with the dock jutting off its back. Four other boats were already moored to the dock and Christopher wondered how many people had already arrived, how many people were waiting for them. Galang circled once by the dock so that they all got a clear look at one another. Reggie assumed that this was planned, that Galang had been told to pull close and make sure that the right people were there. He was sure that Galang had been ordered to run if the right people weren't waiting. After veering close to the dock on the first loop, Galang pulled the boat around again and threw a line to one of the four people waiting for them on the dock.

Though all four of the people were Asian, Christopher could spot their dissimilarities. He remembered Jin asking him if he thought Jin looked like he was from Singapore. He still didn't know what it meant to look like you were from Singapore or China or Indonesia. The people on the dock were different in size and color, and their eyes had different shapes. It was three men and a woman. The woman was smaller than the men, but her eyes were lively and something in the way she stood reminded Christopher of a coiled snake.

Galang leapt from the boat, over the water and onto the dock. Two of the men pulled on the rope Galang had thrown them and maneuvered the boat close to the dock as the boat bobbed up and down in the water. Then the biggest of the men stepped forward and reached a hand out to help pull Reggie from the boat. Reggie turned to grab his bag. “Don't worry,” the big man said in a deep voice, “we'll get your bags.” So Reggie gave the man his hand and the man hoisted him onto the dock. Christopher went next. He almost withered under the man's grip. He could feel all the man's immense strength in his hand.

Once his passengers were safely off the boat, Galang jumped back in to get the bags. As he did so, the woman stepped forward and reached out a hand toward Reggie. “Good to finally meet you,” she said with a smile that seemed dangerously genuine.

“The same to you,” Reggie replied. “At times, it felt like it might never happen.”

The woman glanced quickly at Christopher and then turned back to Reggie. “I trust your trip here was adequate?”

“We had a bit of an adventure in Singapore with your friend Jin. But we're here in one piece.”

The women nodded. “Yes. We heard about Jin. He was supposed to join us here tomorrow. He'll be missed.” Christopher tried not to flinch. He looked at Reggie, determined to react however Reggie reacted. Reggie's face showed no reaction.

“Christopher,” Reggie said, putting his hand on Christopher's back and leading him toward the woman, “this is Sara.”

“Sara?” Christopher said, shaking the woman's hand.

“Apsara,” the woman responded, “but when working with Westerners, I go by Sara.”

“I like Apsara better,” Christopher said.

“If all goes well here, you can call me whatever you want,” Apsara said to him.

“Who are your friends?” Reggie said to Apsara, turning to face the men. Apsara introduced them all to Reggie by name and by country. The big one was Chinese. The slight one, Katsu, was Japanese. The one who had helped Galang dock the boat was Indonesian. Apsara was Thai. They each shook Reggie's hand in turn. They each bowed to Christopher. Christopher tried to hold their names in his mind, but they slipped out almost as quickly as they entered. It was a handicap of growing up without friends. To Christopher, names were the least important things about people.

“Is this everyone?” Reggie asked. He was answered by a deep laugh from the big Chinese man.

“No,” Apsara said to Reggie. “There are others. We wanted to welcome the Child first. We didn't want to overwhelm him.”

“He's not a flower,” Reggie told Apsara, ignoring how easily Christopher could have been overwhelmed at that moment.

Apsara nodded again, her face lacking any sort of remorse. “He will meet them all. You will both meet them all.” Then she looked at Christopher. “You are ready to convince the people of this continent who have proven nothing to the world except that they abhor war to fight a war in your name?” This caught Christopher off guard. He didn't know how to respond. He looked toward Reggie, begging for a lifeline with his eyes.

“If only it were that simple,” Reggie joked. Each of the men standing with them laughed. Only Apsara remained stoic.

“So what's the plan, Sara?” Reggie asked the woman.

“We'll show you to your hut. You've had a long trip. You can rest. We're having a celebration tonight on the beach in your honor. You can meet everybody then. I'm sure you'll both be ready.”

The Indonesian man led Reggie and Christopher to their hut. Galang carried their bags. The bamboo bridges creaked and swayed under their feet. Reggie and Christopher could hear others inside their huts as they walked by. They spoke in unnecessary whispers. To Christopher, their languages, like their faces, were distinct but unrecognizable. With each whisper, all Christopher could think about was how deeply in over his head he was.

“Don't worry about Sara,” Reggie said to Christopher as soon as they were alone in their hut with the door closed behind them. “She's with us.”

“Then who should I worry about?”

“Everybody else. This isn't Dutty's land of misfit rebels where everybody is simply looking for a better excuse to die.” Reggie stopped himself before he said any more, remembering that he still hadn't told Christopher about the raid and he still didn't know what had happened to Addy and Evan. “Don't get me wrong, Chris. They want to believe in you. That's why they're here. But you have to sell it. They need to see something in you that I can't give you.”

“Apsara doesn't think I'm ready for this, does she?”

“Don't worry about what she thinks. She only met you ten minutes ago. Besides, she's got more riding on you than you can understand.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let's just say that it's not easy for her to hide from the War after the career she had. People listen to her for a reason. No matter what you do, she's not going to think you're ready until the War's over.”

“Do you think I'm ready?” Christopher asked Reggie.

“I may not know much about the parents that raised you, but I do know a little bit about the blood that runs in your veins. I know how strong and how brave that blood is. I've seen it firsthand. This is the job you were born to do, Christopher. I know it's a cliché, but it's also true.”

“But do you think I'm ready?”

“Your mother taught me a lot of things in the short time that I knew her. One of the biggies was that the world doesn't wait for you to be ready. You're here. Here is better than ready.”

Christopher tried to be satisfied with Reggie's answer. “What do you think happened to Jin?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I've learned not to ask questions that I don't think I want the answers to,” Reggie said without hesitation. “Let's get some rest before we have to face whatever it is that's out there.”