Exodia (13 page)

Part II 2095

Chapter 8 Taken

From the fourth page of the
Ledger:

He held her and would not
let her go until he had brought her to his mother’s
house.

YET ANOTHER CUSTOM to learn, abide by,
accept, and pass onto my son. Kassandra watches me. She presses her
lips together to fight a smile, but her eyes are
laughing.

My son. I want to laugh, too. Every
time I think of this absurdity, this awesome change in my life, I
have to let it overwhelm me. It almost covers the guilt I still
carry.

Her parents walk several yards ahead of
us, leading the way to the first spring TM of the year at our
unnamed Mid-land village. Unnamed, all the better to stay under the
radar of Exodia’s imprecise authority. Her sisters spread out
behind us as if to herd us there. I carry my son in a wool-lined
sling Kassandra made. He’s two weeks old. We’ll present him to the
town in a small ceremony, but there will be no tattooing of his
tiny arm. I believe there should be even though we live in this
neutral zone where life is primitive yet tranquil. I’ve talked to
Kassandra several times about this small fact. My own elbow is
undeniably red. I haven’t dyed it in the nearly two years I’ve been
here; I haven’t needed to even when strangers pass
through.

“
What are you thinking?”
Kassandra says. “Nervous?”

I shake my head. A memory pops into my
mind of my first month on the ranch when two men had shown up. They
said they were government inspectors, but when one had eyed the
lambs that Sana and Araceli were holding, he said, “Cute woolen
bastards” and Araceli told me later that Sana’s eyes got wide. She
came running to me with her hand over her mouth. I was behind the
new windmill I was helping Mr. Luna construct and she pushed me
into the room at the base, unclamped her hand, and let her words
spill out: “Beware Dalton scouts!” The men snooped a bit, but I
stayed out of sight. We never found out if they really were looking
for me. I confessed my crime to my new family and they still
accepted me. We asked Deandra to make a guess and she thought they
weren’t from the government at all, but were Ronel’s people. A week
later the news was shared at a TM that my grandfather was dead and
a new election was planned. I didn’t grieve for Bryer Battista.
After that news I didn’t see a need to find Ronel. I liked my new
life here. Our wedding was a simple party.

It’s still hard for me to express
myself in words. I should share this memory with Kassandra as we
walk the path to town, but I answer her question in a few words.
“Not nervous,” I say. I’ll talk more when we’re alone.

We reach the edge of town and join
another family to continue to the center. More people appear until
I’m sure that not a single person has stayed home from this TM.
There’s a crisp freshness to the air that’s suddenly marred by a
now familiar scent wafting up from the baby sling. I haven’t yet
changed one of these home-made diapers, but I fear that if we don’t
do something quickly this ceremony will be over before it begins.
My sisters-in-law are no longer trailing us. One of the twins has
the sack, my old backpack really, that contains the baby’s needs
and the four coins that were left after I gave Mr. Luna the money
to rebuild the windmill.

I look desperately at Kassandra and she
understands.

“
Don’t worry,” she says.
“The ceremony will be fast and I’ll change him while you and my
father do the trading.” She waves her sister over.

Good. I take her hand, hoping for that
electric tingle, but feel only warmth. We are eighteen, almost
nineteen, and we have fallen into a complicated friendship that has
little of that first passion. My father-in-law has spoken to me of
these matters. I’m infinitely grateful for the parenting he bestows
on me. He has told me to wait, that the baby will grow and our
relationship will change, but I’ve doubted Kassandra’s feelings
from the beginning. And I doubt my own.

I squeeze Kassandra’s hand and she
squeezes back. When we met I thought she had the gemfry ability to
send her thoughts to me through touch. I was sure that she had sent
me those images when our feet touched under the table at our first
meal together. It has never happened since. She swears that I
pulled the thoughts from her, that I’m the one with special
powers.

We reach the town center and join the
throng. Deandra sets the bag down at my feet and turns to go off
with her twin. They are followed by two boys who likely will be the
next to join our family. Katie has found a suitor, too, but is more
obstinate in her courting style. I see her search the faces and
look away when an older boy heads our way. I wish him
luck.

A drum begins to beat. In the past a
whistle was all that was needed to get a TM started. They’re making
this an extra special meeting for some reason. I’ve been to two
other baby ceremonies here and there was no music. A few odd
instruments start to play a tune I’ve heard before. Kassandra drops
my hand as if it burns her.

A few voices begin to sing. Kassandra
knows the words and sings them as softly as my nanny used to.
There’s a variation in the rhythm but the lyrics sound as foreign
as the first time I heard this song in the Red slum, with Lydia.
And the second time, in Vinn’s cabin, when I felt that I was called
to some special mission. And the third time, at Usala’s Rock, when
I first saw Kassandra. Kassandra has not taught me this song though
she has made me learn several lullabies. I listen
carefully.

Her mother stands behind me and her
voice gets louder.

Araceli and Flor are nearby and I hear
their sweet soprano tones. Deeper voices harmonize. My son cries
out as well. Only Sana and I are silent.

The song reaches a crescendo and the
drum beats wildly. I have my left arm under the sling, giving extra
support, but I cross my right over the baby, protecting him. I feel
vibrations through my old rubber soles. An unexpected flash of
adrenalin surges through my veins. I’m ready to flee.

The last words are strange. The song
ends but the sound of it does not. The resonance changes to a
buzzing and everyone reacts as one. We duck as the noise changes
pitch. I know what it means and my stomach shoots up as if the
ground has dropped from under me. A spotter plane dips and tilts
over our gathering. It circles and most of us scatter
away.

Most, but not all. Kassandra stays at
my side. We stare upward. The old plane dips again and levels out.
My two years are up, obviously. This is a sign. No doubt someone
has tipped off the government as to where I’ve been. Perhaps it was
Ronel. He means to give me no options. My time here is
over.

I’m relieved because I don’t want to
hide forever, but I’m scared because something horrid is about to
happen.

“
We’re leaving,” I say to my
wife. “We’re going back to Exodia.”

I jiggle the baby to quiet his cries
and Kassandra stops me, lifts him out and cuddles him to her
shoulder. There are tears running down her face and she won’t look
up at me. She focuses somewhere beyond. Suddenly there are shouts
and screams, whip cracks, and bursts of gunfire. Her face changes,
now holding a look of terror. She screams out the names of two of
her sisters. I turn to see them scooped up by soldiers on
horses.

All around us I see horsemen and foot
soldiers, heavily armed, closing the gaps and pushing the crowd
back unceremoniously into our previous circle. I can’t move. The
drum is trampled. Children cry for their mothers. A soldier grabs
my father-in-law and pushes him away into a line with other men and
boys. A giant of a soldier works on tying their hands behind their
backs. Sana runs over and spits at the large soldier and he curses
her. Her eyes roll back in her head before she whispers a strange
anagram and points to me.

* * *

Barrett came back at nightfall from the
fifth scouting mission in as many months and slowed as he passed
Lydia’s house. The light from the half moon outlined his former
home. He didn’t live there anymore. He had moved out when his dad
returned alone, without Lydia’s stepfather or the little kids’ dad.
Barrett’s father had sneaked back, left a bag of money for Lydia’s
mom, and took Barrett and the little kids to live in a reclaimed
hovel. His father acted ashamed when he finally revealed that
Lydia’s stepfather and the other man were caught, conscripted, and
sent to work in the mines. The new Executive President, James
Truslow, former President of Defense, won the ninety state election
in a political takeover that resembled the Suppression of 2071.
Then things got even worse for every red tattooed man, woman, and
child.

Barrett was tempted to stop at Lydia’s
house first just because he wanted to see her. He had grown taller
in the last two years, enough to match her height if he stood
straight. He was more muscular, too, and had become somewhat of a
street fighter among the younger faction of the resistance; his
nickname of Bear had evolved into The Bear. Girls were continually
putting themselves in his path, hoping for a chance to catch his
attention. At sixteen he was as eligible a catch in the Red slum as
any storybook prince. He had until the end of the summer to find an
apprenticeship or go into Truslow’s CC militia. Too many youths had
to make the difficult choice to stand with Blues and use brutal
force against their own people.

“
Hey!” Lydia popped out the
door and rumbled down the steps. “I was watching for you. Saw you
coming. You seem a little slow. Run out of solar power?” She smiled
and gestured to him to sit down with her on the bottom
step.

“
Sorry,” he said, “I know
you’d rather come on a mission than work. Just thought I’d be
quicker alone.”

“
It’s okay.”

He settled on the dirty stoop and let
his backpack rest on the step above. He twisted his body and
offered his left elbow for the usual greeting bump. He wished the
custom would devolve back to the earlier practice. A kiss on the
cheek or even a hug would be preferable to touching someone’s least
appealing body part.

“
So, did you get them?” She
eyed the pack.

“
Get what?” He loved to
tease her. She pinched his shoulder and pushed him sideways. He
relished the contact and pretended she had hurt him, groaning and
making a face, while the buzz of being in her presence spiraled
through his chest.

“
Don’t make me pull your
beard,” she said.

“
Fine.” He lifted the pack
onto his lap and opened it. Lydia leaned in and looked. The
moonlight was enough to see the round white objects.

She lifted her head, frowned, and said,
“But there are only five scrolls. Added with the others that only
makes nineteen.”

“
Not as bad as you think,”
Barrett closed the pack and dropped it between his feet. “I met a
dozen other runners when I got to Ronel’s camp. Which, by the way,
has moved twenty miles closer. Anyway, there aren’t ninety states.
We’ve been lied to. The coastal states along the Atlantic and
Pacific are decimated. People have been trekking inland pretty
steadily the last couple of years. Estimates are that there are
only twenty-five governmentally functioning states.”