Fugitive X (7 page)

The mess hall was smaller than Kevin had expected, with four large rectangular wooden tables that probably could hold about ten people each. It was nearly empty, with only two men in camouflage eating quietly at separate ends of the far table.

“Most everyone eats in their own shelters,” said Cort quietly, but close to Kevin’s ear. Kevin nearly jumped; he hadn’t realized Cort was standing so close to him. The boy moved like a ghost. “The mess hall’s just for us orphans and sometimes scouts and guards.”

They ate quickly, scrambled eggs and bread and apples. Kevin and Otter and Cort were quiet while Pil kept up a monologue about the food, and the card game they had been playing last night, and their work assignments. Kevin forced himself to listen carefully, hoping to learn something, anything important, that might aid his escape, but Pil was talking just to hear himself talk and wasn’t saying anything helpful. Kevin soon ignored him and focused on forcing some food down. Even if he wasn’t hungry, he knew he should eat when given the chance. He slipped a slice of bread into his pocket. He had to start gathering supplies. . . . Extra food seemed like a good place to start.

They finished their breakfast and stood up to leave just as a group of four girls entered the mess hall. Cort ducked his head down and hurried out of the room. The tallest girl, long brown hair tied back loosely with a rough piece of rope, walked up to Otter. “No work duty tomorrow. How about you guys?”

Otter shrugged. “Yeah, we’re off too. Rest day for everyone, I think.”

“Well, come find us,” the girl said. “Maybe the hunters will let us tag along.” She glanced at Kevin appraisingly, and he felt himself flush. She gave a small smile. “I’m Wex,” she said.

“Kevin,” he said, his cheeks still burning.

Wex turned back to Otter. “Bring the new kid,” she said.

Otter frowned and didn’t say anything. The girls sat down to their meal, and Kevin, Otter, and Pil left.

Cort was waiting for them outside. “Man, Cort,” said Pil. “Could you be any more afraid of girls?”

Cort shoved Pil on the shoulder, a bit too hard to be just playful. Pil staggered back, then regained his balance. Kevin was expecting him to continue teasing Cort, but surprisingly, he was quiet.

“Come on, bot lovers,” said Otter. “We’re due at the gap.”

A bot was waiting for them when they arrived at the Wall gap. Kevin thought he recognized the patchy brown flesh pattern on its face—a small patch just above the left eye, a larger patch on the right cheek. If he was right, this was the bot with the male voice that had captured him in the woods. “Come with me,” it said, pointing at Kevin. It was indeed the male bot from the woods.

Otter stepped between Kevin and the bot. “He’s supposed to be working the gap today with us.”

The bot stared blankly at Otter. Kevin froze, confused. Was Otter trying to protect him?

“This is not your concern,” said the bot. “I will return him shortly to your work group.”

“Where are we going?” said Kevin, stepping out from behind Otter.

“Follow me,” said the bot, and began walking. Kevin ignored him and walked over to the pile of lumber, pushing his sleeves up. Otter raised an eyebrow and gave him a small nod.

The bot spun on its heels and moved quickly back to Kevin. “You must come with me,” it said.

Kevin stood up from the pile of wood. “I’ll decide when you tell me where you’re going,” he said. He was scared, but he managed to make his voice sound confident.

The bot hesitated, and Kevin had to fight hard to resist the instinct to flinch and raise his arm over his face. Was he about to get lased?

“The Governor wants to speak to you,” said the bot.

It made Kevin even more nervous that Otter and Pil and the adults at the work site were staring at him with shock on their faces. Cort slid up next to him and whispered, “Go. You need to go.”

Kevin shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and held his arm out. “Lead the way,” he said.

The bot led him northwest, past all the central buildings, then along a path that led into a small cluster of trees. When the trees cleared Kevin saw that they were at the far northwest corner of the Island. Nestled up against the right-angle corner
of the Wall was a large two-story log cabin. Two bots stood guarding the front door, one patch-faced as usual, the other’s face covered entirely with the brown leatherlike skin. They stood stiffly, arms at their sides.

“Wait here,” said Kevin’s guide bot. It stepped forward, and the bot with the entirely brown face moved gracefully to meet it.

“Business?” it said.

“Delivering the new provisional Islander to the Governor, as requested,” said Kevin’s bot.

The guard glanced at Kevin, then nodded and stepped backward. It opened the door. “Proceed. The Governor is expecting you.”

Inside it was dark, and the glare from the sun made it impossible for Kevin to see more than murky shadows inside. He thought about just turning around and running. Would he make it out of the Island? No, not a chance, he knew. He bent down to untie and then retie his shoes, to give the butterflies in his stomach a moment to settle. They didn’t.

“Come now,” said his guide. “Enter.”

Kevin took a deep breath, like he was plunging under water, and entered the cabin, the bot at his heels.

At the far end of the room was a metal table, a harsh bright blue color made even harsher by comparison to the brown and tan wooden beams of the walls and ceiling and floor. An old man sat at the table, leaning over a pile of circuitry, wearing a
pair of scope glasses. Tech Tom had owned a similar pair. He had used them for nanocircuitry work.

With a rush of dread, Kevin saw that standing next to the man, hands on her hips, looking impatient, was Captain Clay. She gave Kevin an annoyed scowl, then rapped gently on the table. “Governor,” she said.

The old man looked up from his work, startled, and slid the scope glasses up to his forehead. “What?” he said. “I told you I’d only be another minute . . .” His eyes fell upon Kevin and the bot. “Ah. My guest has arrived. Thank you. Mira, will you please excuse us for a few minutes?”

The Captain’s scowl deepened even further. “I should be involved in any Islander debriefings, Governor.”

“This isn’t a debriefing, Mira,” said the Governor. “I just have a few questions for the boy.” He held his arm out toward the front door. “Five minutes,” he said.

Captain Clay spun and walked briskly past Kevin without looking at him. Kevin heard the door open and shut behind him.

“Please,” said the Governor. “Come to the table.”

Kevin walked up to the table. There were no other seats in the room, so Kevin just stood. The bot followed him, standing at Kevin’s right shoulder.

Up close, Kevin could see the man’s deep wrinkles, the loose, tanned skin that, along with the silver hair, made Kevin guess the man was nearly seventy. The only person he had
ever seen as old was the grocer from the City, who had helped them escape from the Peteys.

The man smiled. It seemed genuine and made him look younger. “So, it’s Kevin, that’s correct?”

“Yes, sir, uh, Governor,” said Kevin.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the Governor said.

“No idea,” said Kevin. “I was kidnapped in the woods and brought here and now I can’t leave.”

The Governor shook his head dismissively. “No, no. I mean, do you know why you’re here in my office? Why I’ve taken you from your work assignment to come speak with me?”

“Still no idea,” said Kevin.

The Governor leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Tell me your story, Kevin. The short version.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Kevin.

“Where you’re from,” said the Governor impatiently. “Your background. How you got here.”

“Same thing I told the Captain,” said Kevin. “I lived in a Freepost. The bots torched it and killed and captured everyone. I got away, and I was minding my own business, looking for another Freepost, and then these bots”—he nodded angrily at the bot next to him—“broke my nose and knocked me out and dragged me here.”

“You’ve been inside a City,” said the Governor.

Kevin stiffened. “No,” he said.

“Son,” said the Governor, “you have a chip implant scar.”

“I’ve had that scar forever,” said Kevin. “I fell out of a tree . . .”

The Governor lowered his hands and leaned forward. “Kevin,” he said, “I am not yet completely senile, you know. Again, you have been inside a City.”

“No,” repeated Kevin. He knew he didn’t seem convincing, but he didn’t trust this man—why should he, when he was being held here as a prisoner?—and his instincts told him not to talk. If he admitted that he had been in the City, he’d have to explain how he got out. The Governor sighed. “Okay, I’ll let that go for now. However, I have heard reports that you have some technical knowledge. Correct?”

“Just a bit,” said Kevin. “I helped a little with the power grid back at the Freepost.”

The Governor nodded, then pointed down at the pile of circuitry on his desk. “Fix this,” he said.

“I don’t understand . . .” began Kevin.

“Kevin,” said the Governor, “understand this. The Island is home. This”—he gestured broadly with his hands—“is our haven. This is where we survive and even raise our families, safe from the Cities. But to make it a safe home, we all have to contribute. We work on the Wall. We guard. We hunt. We cook. We repair. You will work here. You might as well keep it interesting. Planing lumber gets boring.” He pointed again at the circuitry and held his scope glasses and a small nanoburner toward Kevin. “Fix it.”

Kevin looked down at the circuits. It was obvious, up close, what it was—just a simple power grid loop, probably from a small device like a cooking panel. He didn’t even need the scope glasses to see the problem. Kevin grabbed the nanoburner, the size of a tweezer, and snipped apart the connection where the ground was mistakenly looped in with the live relay, then with two more quick twists reset the loop into the proper configuration. Then he threw the tool onto the table, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at the Governor.

The Governor raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t even need the glasses, did you?” he said. “You’ve got young eyes still.” He nodded. “Good. Thank you for that much honesty, at least. Now, you will return to your work group. However, you obviously have technical skills that are important here on my Island.” He nodded at the bot. “23 is now your supervisor. It will begin incorporating more tech work into your workload.” He turned to the bot. “Understood, 23?”

“Yes, Governor,” said the bot.

“Good,” said the Governor.

“Governor,” said Kevin, “where did you get all these bots?”

The Governor hesitated, frowning, and Kevin wondered if he was angry at the question. “I built them,” he said finally, then waved his fingers at Kevin and 23. “Now go.”

THE ROOM WAS WHITE, LIKE A CLOUD. THAT’S EXACTLY HOW IT FELT
, Cass thought—like she was floating inside a cloud. She was calm. Content. Peaceful. She had no questions, no fears, no doubts. All was well with the world, and her place in it.

Today she would be graduating and joining the City as a productive Citizen. She felt a strong, quiet pride—not arrogance, but joy in knowing that the Lecturers had deemed her worthy of their trust. She waited patiently on the edge of the metal bed, hands on her knees, wearing the white dress they had given her.

Time passed. How much, Cass didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. She waited.

The door opened, and a Lecturer entered, and Cass stood, smiling. “Greetings, Lecturer.”

“Greetings, Citizen.”

Cass felt a rush of pleasure at being called “Citizen.” She had earned that title. It had been hard work. She felt a moment of confusion, murky half-memories of pain and resistance, and she frowned but quickly pushed the dark thoughts away. This was her day of celebration. Nothing would ruin it.

“Citizen,” continued the Lecturer bot, “As you know, today you will be joining the community as a productive member of our society. We have further good news.”

Cass was more confused than excited. She honestly couldn’t imagine what else could possibly make this day any better. Still, she nodded, and waited patiently for her teacher to continue.

“As a matter of protocol,” said the bot, “when a rebellious human such as yourself is brought in for re-education from outside the City, we sample DNA to properly maintain our Citizen records. Generally, familial connections from outside the City are irrelevant; however, occasionally a new Citizen such as yourself is found to be genetically linked to preexisting Citizens. In your case, it has been determined that, given your success in re-education, and given the longtime good standing of your relatives, a reunion would be acceptable and efficient.” The bot turned to the hallway. “Enter now,” it said.

A middle-aged man and woman and a girl a few years younger than Cass entered the room. The man and woman were smiling broadly and seemed close to tears. The girl stared
at Cass with a neutral expression, as if she weren’t sure what to make of her.

“Your biological mother and father,” said the Lecturer. “And your sister.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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NICK AND ERICA WALKED FOR AN HOUR IN SILENCE, UNTIL NICK
finally couldn’t hold back his anger anymore and threw his pack down and kicked it, then squatted, holding his head in his hands. It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming. He had nothing. Nowhere to go. No plan.

“Come on,” said Erica. “We should keep moving.”

“Just go,” said Nick. “I’m done.”

“Quite the pity party you’re throwing,” said Erica.

Nick surged to his feet. “What the hell do you know?” he yelled. “Who the hell are you, anyway? You don’t care about what happened back there?” He pointed angrily in the direction they had come from. “They’re all dead!” He felt a tear
running down his cheek from his real eye, and he twisted away from Erica, not wanting her to see.