SAFE (6 page)

However,
I wasn’t sure if it was our only option. “Maybe we could hide out in the
wilderness for a while?” That was a stupid idea, but so was the perimeter.

I
took another bite, realizing my identification card had been dangling in my
bowl.

“Your
ID, you still have it?” he asked.

“Of
course, where else would it be? I have it on me at all times.”

“Give
it to me right now. If they haven’t tracked us yet, they will very soon.”

He
grabbed my ID and slipped it off from over my head.

“What
are you talking about?” I asked

“I
thought I told you to toss it out the window last night.” James rubbed his
forehead. “I guess I was more out of it than I thought. I’m surprised the gun
shot affected me so easily. Listen, I’m going to take your ID and then I’ll be back.
There are trackers in these; we have to get rid of it,” he warned, and then he
jogged into the tree line surrounding the village. Branches and bushes flung
around his body as he disappeared into the dewy thickness.

Even
though none of the Lowers acted like they heard any of our conversation, I knew
they did. Now that I was positive they had vines just like us, it would be irrational
for me to think none of them had hearing capabilities like James.

I finished my last drop of oatmeal and went back for
more when the weather began changing. The humidity sucked away into the clouds and
the fog vanished. Tips of trees bent from wind gusting about; leaves and dirt tossed
in circles like dozens of tiny cyclones.

My
empty bowl was in my hands and I looked up in the sky. In the near distance, large,
gray clouds were rolling in. Just then, the table holding the bowls fell over
from the weight of the wind thrusting against it, utensils scattered across the
ground and crashed against the dirt.

Lowers
scrambled, picking up bowls and pots and moving the breakfast into a tiny, nearby
house.

The
storm was moving swiftly, ghastly clouds almost directly overhead.

I
hope James is okay.

I
helped pick up the fallen bowls, ran them inside the house, and sat them down next
to the rearranged breakfast. People disappeared in and out, gathering more
supplies. I squeezed by the door, slipping into the stormy weather. The area
where everyone once gathered was now empty; most everyone went back into their
own homes to wait out the weather. The only person still sitting on the ground next
to the bodies was Sidnee—by her husband.

I
sauntered over; my curls whipped my lips and blocked my eyesight. “Don’t you
think we should go indoors?” I asked, pulling my hair from my mouth.

Sidnee
scooted back on her heels and pushed off her knees to stand up. Her fingers
swiped the hair strewn about her face.

I
looked back at the bodies, not moving and still wrapped tightly, unaffected by
the wind. “What about them?” I asked.

“They’ll
be fine. They belong to the earth now, and we’ll finish the ceremony after the
storm.” She leaned back down, kissing her husband’s forehead. “The people who
live here believe strongly that upon death, our energy joins the sun and moon.
Leaving those people here with the rain will not hurt them.”

I
didn’t understand what she was saying, or maybe I did, and just thought it was
crazy. Either way, it didn’t make much difference what I thought about the Lowers;
people who’ve always been much different in my mind. I followed her back to her
house and lightening cracked in various ways, dividing the angry sky while we
walked. As soon as we entered, Sidnee warmed up a pot of tea, heating the water
in a dark emerald vase. After, she poured the tea into two small cups with a
wavy blue line painted around the center, a picture of a sun and moon on either
side.

We
sat silent for a while, sipping the tea and listening to the whooshing and
whirling outside. Wind howled as fabric snapped against the exterior and large
drops of rain pounded the roof. The sound of thunder roared, a sound slightly muted
by the walls.

“Penny,”
began Sidnee, “if you don’t mind me asking, what is your last name?”

I
took another sip of the warm, red tea and licked the stain from my lips. “Evans,”
I replied. Surprisingly, the tea was much better than any kind I’d had at home,
more flavorful—like eating a fresh piece of fruit.

Sidnee
blotted her lips with a small napkin from her lap.

“You
know, my Jace was a special little boy. When he was little, I thought I was
being punished by having such a rambunctious little one. It was amazing the
trouble Jace could get himself into, and all at the young age of one. He
started walking as soon as he turned ten months old, too tall for his own good.
He got into anything we tried keeping out of his reach and was mobile…too young
to be that mobile. When he was two, he began talking in full sentences. He
spoke so clearly that everyone was able to understand him and were amazed by
the questions he’d ask.” Her face lowered, looking down at the tea clutched by
her hands. “I was wrong for feeling punished. In fact, he was the best gift God
ever gave his father and me.” Her eyes glossed as she looked in the direction
of Jace’s room. The room where I was staying.

“So
what happened to him?”

She
took another sip of tea before continuing. “When he was born we noticed
something was...different…about him, nothing like I just told you. This was
more physical. The day he was born, I delivered him right here in this house. His
birth was unexpected, early, and there was a storm similar to the one like today.
Our healer warned me, but I told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. An
hour later, the pains started, and within another hour he was born. A quick
birth. And I almost died from the blood loss.

“For
days his vines didn’t appear.”

The
picture in his room was of a little boy without vines; I assumed painted over
like everyone else’s. Obviously, her family hadn’t been kicked off our Land
like others had. They’re still here, aren’t they? Which means they weren’t
executed either.

“So
what happened?” I asked, intrigued by her story.

“A
doctor came to visit. He called himself a scientist, and we named him the Mundunugu.”

I
wondered if the person was someone I knew and what the mundung word meant.

“Understand,
two years prior to Jace’s birth, there were twenty-nine others born from the
Lowers, but within the Colony and using their doctors
.
Of those
twenty-nine, twenty-three babies were born without vines. Of those
twenty-three, nineteen families relocated to the other Land. The Land filled
with sickness and death.”

I
didn’t have to ask what happened to the other four families not relocated.
Though, she answered the thought anyways and it wasn’t what I expected.

“The
rest died. They fought and the soldiers killed all of them, including anyone
who fought along with them. From then on, none of us would birth our children except
for right here in the village.

“Mundunugu
means medicine man. This man told us he came here in secrecy, but really
President Falcon had sent him. Word traveled fast about Jace and the President
found out about his lack of vines.”

“Did
he turn you in? The Mundunugu, I mean.”

Before
answering, Sidnee stood up, poured some more tea, and returned to the table.

“No,”
she replied. “Instead, he gave us a bottle of pills, told us to break a capsule
in half and administer it with milk every day. Then he promised as our child
grew, he’d be back to give us more pills. Eventually Jace got bigger, became a
toddler, and instead of mixing a capsule with milk, we mixed them in his food
or drink. As he grew into a young boy, he took them every morning like any
other pill and we told him they were special vitamins which helped keep him
well.”

“I
don’t understand. What exactly did the pills do for him?” I asked.

“Two
days after giving Jace his first pill, his body grew vines all over his skin
and they looked exactly like everyone else’s.”

Only
one person came to my mind. One person who had the knowledge to invent a pill
imitating the effects of the vaccine. “The Mundunugu was my father, wasn’t he?”

Sidnee’s
hands released from her cup and she looked up at me.

“Yes.
We met with him every four months. Sometimes in town, and other times in the
woods secretly. We were careful. Over the years, ten more children were born
without vines and Mundunugu met with them as well.”

What
she told me was too much to handle. I pushed my tea away from me, suddenly not
thirsty anymore. I remembered what my father briefly mentioned at the house before
everything happened; my sister held captive on the other Land, him forced to
work for Falcon, things that made me question everything I knew. But I never
guessed my father had any connection with the Lowers or even talked with them,
let alone helped them. And I wondered how many others he had helped, others
that didn’t live here. Were they anyone I knew?

“The
bodies you saw driving here; the ones wrapped, prepared for the ceremony, along
with my husband. They died because their children had been given medicine by
your father. But it wasn’t because of the medicine they were found out. That
wouldn’t be possible; we were very careful. The soldiers claimed these specific
children contained a virus, something contagious and capable of spreading. The
kids were ordered into custody. My Jace was only thirteen years old and my
husband and I were not going to allow them to take him. Jace was the oldest of
all those kids. My husband, along with a few others, fought back and, in
return, the guards shot them, dragging one of them behind their vehicle.”

“I
didn’t see any children along the road. Were they taken into custody?”

“Yes,
they were taken to the Academy.”

“Then
you shouldn’t worry. Jace will be back as well as the rest.” I said this aloud,
but the truth was hidden in the back of my head, wanting to be left alone. I
didn’t want to think of it, much less utter the words. Was I someone my father helped,
somehow without me knowing?

Sidnee
began sipping her tea again. “Maybe,” she replied to my rambling about the kids’
future return. “You know, I’m getting a little tired. I think I’ll go rest.” She
stood up and pushed the chair out from underneath her.

“Before
you go, can you tell me this? Did those children have any special abilities
like the rest of us?”

Sidnee
turned around. “I guess it depends on what you define as special.” Then she
walked out of the room.

I
sat alone, not wanting to put the pieces together. I knew I wasn’t as strong or
fast as the others were. I didn’t hear as well but I was extremely smart. That
had to be something along ability lines, right? I looked down at my arms, at the
vines still there. I forced my thoughts away from the frightening possibility,
feeling like I didn’t know anything anymore.

My
dad. He was deceiving President Falcon.
How did Falcon find
out? If my father started this thirteen years ago, then he would’ve been
careful. Careful enough not to be discovered. I was eighteen now. This just
didn’t add up.
Still thinking, I walked into my room. The white dog laid on
the ground, front paws clawing, playing tug-a-war with a bone. Slobber gathered
around the bloody sections she was done chewing with. I chose not to walk near her,
not while she was eating something; if she didn’t want me touching her before,
I doubted she would at this moment either.

I
sat on the bed.

I
wished I could simply lie down, close my eyes, and wake up in my own bed—at
home. Yesterday, my life began like any other and I was doing fairly well at
work, happy categorizing tedious petri-dishes and helping with Doctor Benton’s
research. I wasn’t running from anyone and my relationship with James was easy—not
that it still wasn’t. But I felt like there was a part of him I didn’t know.
The fighting. The skills. Was there anything else?

The
storm outside clamored louder. Thunderous clapping and rain pounded against the
walls.

 Another
hour passed, James wasn’t back yet. The image of him caught by a group of nasty
guards wanting to kill him paused at the forefront of my mind. He might be
strong, but to go against more than two others guards, just as big as him,
would be tough.

A couple more hours passed and I walked around the house,
counting vases, now knowing exactly how many there were. Two hundred and
thirty-two vases, plus ten already cracked, placed towards the back of the
stack.

Suddenly,
James appeared through the curtain. Drenched. Water soaked the ground all around,
dripping from his clothes. His boots sloshed as his feet moved within. However,
his face looked fine, no cuts or bruises, every limb still attached, no blood. He
shook his head, flinging water about the walls. I ran and grabbed a towel from
the kitchen.

“What
took you so long?” I asked.

He
took the towel from me and wiped his neck and arms. The towel was soaked
quickly so I went and grabbed a few more.

“I
needed to make sure your ID was far away from here as possible. It took me a
while, but I finally found a boulder to hide it under.”

“Why
didn’t we just tear it or burn it in a fire?”

James
shook his head trying to dry his hair. “I’m not exactly sure how to break the
ID, or what the tracker looks like. Even if we did manage to destroy it, throw
it in the fire or whatever, it wouldn’t lead the guards away from here. When
they start looking for us, we’ll need all the advantage we can get.”

I
hadn’t thought about that. “Good point,” I agreed. “Well, I’m glad you’re back.
For a minute, I thought you had been caught. Next time don’t take so long,” I said,
backhanding him across the chest

“Stop
worrying; they won’t look for us in this storm. They’ll wait until it’s clear
and the sun’s bright in the sky so they can make a spectacle as they bring us
in. They’ll want everyone to see; display us as warnings for what will happen
if you challenge their power or violate any laws or rules.” He said the words laws
and rules sarcastically. It was the first time I had ever seen him have any indication
of animosity towards the Academy—ever.

“Well,
I think your assumption is going a little overboard. But either way we can’t
risk being caught. We need to keep moving. My sister…”