The Last Book in the Universe (7 page)

 

 

W
HEN WE FINALLY
get to where the Pipe ends, the world is on fire.

I can smell it from miles away. At first the scent of the fire is just a tickle inside my nose, but after a while I can taste it on the back of my tongue. Kind of gritty and bitter and hot. The closer we get, the more we feel it in the air. The smoke makes Ryter cough, and when he coughs he seems really geezy and weak, and I'm worried he'll choke his withered old lungs out.

“I'm fine,” he insists. “A little smoke can't stop us.”

Going back isn't an option. If we go back we'll never find Bean, and besides, everybody we left behind wants to cancel us. So we keep going even though the Pipe is starting to feel hot under our feet.

We plod into the smoke for a long time. Nobody speaks much — it's like the smoke has drained the talk right out of us. I'm getting worried we won't make it, when Ryter coughs out, “We're almost there.”

The last section of the Pipe has come loose from the concrete pylons and it sags down, heading for ground level. The angle is so steep it's all we can do not to slip and fall, but there's one good thing: The smoke is a little thinner the lower we get.

It turns out the ragged, open end of the Pipe has sunk partway into the ground. We have to duck and crawl for the last few yards to get free of it.

The first thing we notice is the horizon on fire. It looks like the sun melted, and everything along the edge of the world went up in flames.

“Look at that,” Ryter says, wheezing in amazement. “They're burning the whole latch.”

The smoke brings us horrible smells. The kind of stink that makes you more afraid of the people who set it than the fire itself. My stomach is flip-flopping, and not just because I haven't eaten in a while. Everything's on fire in this place: buildings, stackboxes, street hovels, people, even the dirt on the ground, all of it burning.

The scared part of me wants to run back into the Pipe and hide until things get better, but my brain knows things aren't going to get better anytime soon, if ever. We're stuck, and if we're not careful, we'll go up in smoke, too.

Ryter gathers me and Little Face close to him. “Our only chance is to stick together,” he says.

The smoke is too thick to see very far, but we can hear the howling of the mob. The same kind of animal sound the Monkey Boys made, only worse. Even less human, like whatever happened in Mongo's old latch happened here, too, only it's been going on longer.

Then a different sound comes through the howling. A girl shouts, “Keep your distance! I warn you! Leave me alone or suffer the consequences!”

The girl's voice sounds frightened but strong, somehow, like she doesn't really believe anybody would dare hurt her, not even a mindless mob.

The smoke clears and we see her. A slender, beautiful girl standing on top of a broken-down takvee. She's not wearing body armor, just a flimsy, shimmering white gown and a silver headband. Howling attackers swarm around the takvee. They've snatched up packages of edibles, stuffing their dirty faces with food. Some of them are waving torches, reaching out their hands to grab her ankles.

“I am Lanaya, child of Eden!” she shouts. “Touch me and you'll die!”

It's the proov girl, the one from the Maximall, the one who asked my name. Billy Bizmo said if I ever saw her again I should run for my life, because contact between proovs and normals is forbidden. But if me and Ryter don't do something, she's going to be set afire or torn to pieces, or both.

“You're sure she's the one?” Ryter asks when I tell him.

“I'm sure.”

“Doesn't really matter who she is,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “Fair maidens must be rescued.”

“What can we do?”

Ryter thinks about it, his bleary old eyes flicking from the crazy mob swarming the takvee to the thick clouds of smoke that flow from the burning buildings.

“Wait here until you hear my signal. Then do your best.”

“What?” I say. “What are you talking about?”

But Ryter has vanished into the smoke. I grab Little Face's hand before he disappears, too. “Crazy old man,” I tell him. “What's he thinking?”

A moment later there's shouting from inside the smoke. “Edibles! Get him, he's got edibles!”

The mob hears that and they forget all about snatching the proov girl. Howling and waving their torches, they race off into the smoke, smelling blood, following the sound of the chase. Their eyes look almost blind, like all they can see is what they want — in this case, edibles, food, something to eat.

Me and Little Face run up to the takvee. The proov girl is staring into the smoke as if she can't believe the mob has let her go.

“Quick,” I tell her. “We've got to get out of here.”

“You're the strange boy!” she exclaims, recognizing me. “The one called Spaz.”

“Hurry,” I say, offering my hand. “They'll be back.”

The proov girl takes my hand and jumps down. “Why did they run away?” she asks.

“I'll explain later,” I tell her. “How bad is your takvee? Will it still run?”

“I don't know,” she says. “They came out of nowhere and surrounded us. When they saw we couldn't move, my teks ran away.”

“Get inside,” I urge her, my eyes searching the smoke for signs of the returning mob.

“Don't order me about,” she says stiffly, like she's queen of the world. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah,” I say. “You're a dead proov if you don't shut up and get inside.”

She gives me a look like I'm garbage, no different from the starving mob, but she ducks inside the takvee. Me and Little Face shove in beside her.

“Can you drive this thing?” I ask her.

“Close doors!” she says, and I'm looking around for the handle when the doors close on their own. Voice activated. Of course. Stands to reason a proov would have the latest model.

“Forward!” she orders, and the takvee starts to move.

The vidscreens show nothing but smoke and ruin. I'm glad to be back in a takvee, escaping from the howlers, but part of me feels sick about Ryter. He must have known what would happen when he shouted “Edibles!” to a starving mob. They're probably tearing him to pieces right now, while we make our getaway, just like he planned.

“What were you doing here?” I demand of the proov girl, convinced that whatever happened to Ryter is her fault.

“Passing out food units,” she says with a sniff. “In case you didn't notice, those people are hungry.”

“I noticed,” I tell her. “Hungry enough to eat you.”

“They wouldn't dare.”

I'm about to ask if her genetic improvement included brains — how could she be so stupid? — when someone runs out of the smoke in front of us.

“Stop!” I shout, and the takvee stops so hard we get thrown forward before the restraints can tighten.

“What are you doing?” the proov girl demands. “How dare you command my vehicle!”

It's Ryter. His raggedy clothes are torn even more, and there's blood on his arms. He's waving at us and grinning like he's totally zoomed.

“How do you open the door?” I ask the girl.

“Why should I?” she shoots back, looking pleased with herself.

“Because that old man just saved your life,” I tell her.

She opens her mouth to make a wise remark, changes her mind, and says, “Door open!”

The door retracts. I reach out, grab Ryter, and haul him inside. The starving mob boils out of the smoke behind him. “Go!” I shout. “Go! Go!”

A moment later we're traveling at top speed, bouncing over the ruined landscape, crashing through the remains of charred buildings until we find an open path. The proov girl settles behind the console and issues crisp orders to the takvee, making sure we escape intact.

Beside me Ryter chuckles to himself. He holds up his arms, showing us the bite marks. “They wanted to eat me,” he explains, sounding astonished. “That's how hungry they are. Hungry enough to eat a scrawny old gummy!”

“So why are you laughing?” I ask him.

“Am I? I didn't realize. Relief, I suppose. I'm just glad to be alive.”

I'm glad, too, but I can't think of how to say it, so I reach over and squeeze his wrinkled hand.

“Good,” I mutter. “That's good.”

 

With the helium-shocks engaged, the takvee can go two hundred miles an hour, which means we're airborne about half the time. The nav systems keep us from colliding with obstructions like buildings hidden in the smoke, or roving mobs zoomed enough to throw themselves at a high-speed armored vehicle. The proov girl stays at the command console, watching the screens and indicators, but the takvee drives itself, obeying her verbal command to take us to a “safe place.”

Three minutes later the takvee slows down and comes to a stop. The vidscreens show a gray, barren landscape. No people, no buildings, no rubble, no fire, no smoke, no nothing.

“We'll be safe enough here for the moment,” the proov girl announces as the takvee winds down to idle.

“What is this place?” Ryter asks.

“Normals know it as ‘the Forbidden Zone.' We just call it ‘the Zone,'” she says, standing up from the console.

“Ah,” says Ryter with a nod. “Is it still mined?”

The proov girl gives him a funny look, like, “How did he know?” and then nods. “Of course,” she says. “The mines are Eden's first line of defense. This vehicle has the codes to disarm them. If not, we'd already be blown to particles.”

“So we can't get out and walk around?” he asks with a faint smile.

“Not if you want to live,” she says. She hesitates, looking so regal and beautiful and perfect it makes me hurt inside. The usual reaction to being in the presence of a proov. Reminding me how pathetic it is to be born normal. “By the way,” she says to Ryter, “thank you for distracting the mob.”

“You're very welcome,” says Ryter graciously. “And thank you for saving our lives, too.”

She gives him a sharp look, like he got it wrong. “Oh, they wouldn't have dared harm me,” she tells him. “They may be filthy and ignorant and starving, but even so, they know better than to touch a proov.”

Ryter's old eyes look like he's laughing inside, even though his voice sounds very serious. “Perhaps,” he says. “In any case, we filthy, ignorant normals are grateful for your help. For that matter, we have another favor to beg.”

She raises her perfect eyebrows. “Oh?” she says, sounding very cool.

“Lanaya — may I call you Lanaya?”

Her response is somewhere between a nod and a shrug, as if she couldn't care less what a wrinkled old gummy calls her.

“Lanaya, my young friends and I are on a mission. We must fight our way to the next latch and locate a certain young girl before it's too late.”

“Too late?” Lanaya asks. “What do you mean by ‘too late'?”

My throat finally decides to work. I tell her how a runner brought the message about Bean. How she's sick in her blood and wants to see me before she dies. How we've been struggling to get to her.

As Lanaya listens, the ice in her eyes melts and for a moment she almost looks like a normal. “This girl is your sibling?” she asks.

“She's my friend,” I say.

Lanaya nods. She thinks about it for a moment and then announces: “I shall take you there.”

 

 

I
T
'
S A VERY STRANGE FEELING
, riding through a minefield. Knowing that if some little glitch goes wrong and our vehicle doesn't give out the right signal we'll be blown into particles, like Lanaya says. Not that it seems to bother her. She knows exactly where we are and where we're going, and has no doubt we'll get there in one piece.

“Eden is the center of the Urb,” she explains, tapping her nav screen. “The Zone surrounds Eden on all sides. So we can get to any latch by circling through the minefields. No problem.”

“No problem?” I ask, doubting her.

“I do it all the time,” she says huffily. “Don't you know anything?”

The way she talks to me I should be mad, but for some reason I'm not. There's something about being a normal that makes you feel like you deserve it when a proov looks down on you, because they're doing you a big favor just looking at you, period. So I shut up and listen to Lanaya because I love to hear her voice, even when she's telling me I'm stupid. Also, she's so beautiful it hurts to look at her, but the hurt feels good, which doesn't make any sense but I swear it's true.

Proovs. Billy Bizmo is right: They're nothing but trouble even if they
are
perfect.

“Lanaya,” says Ryter, sounding very formal. “May I ask what your guardians think of your excursions into the Urb?”

“That's my business,” she tells him. “I don't have to justify myself to a normal.”

Ryter seems amused by her response. “No, of course you don't,” he says. “Because you believe that we normals are a much lower form of life than those who have been genetically perfected. But I notice that you seek out contact with us. Why is that? Just for the thrill? The sense of danger? Or is there something more?”

Lanaya scowls, which only makes her even more beautiful. “I don't have to help you people, you know.”

“I know,” Ryter says. “But you will.”

“Oh, really?” Lanaya says scornfully. “How can you be so sure? What do you know about me?”

“I know that in your heart you are brave and good,” he says. “And that's not a result of genetic improvement. You can't engineer goodness like you can engineer a perfect nose.”

“What's wrong with my nose?” Lanaya exclaims, touching it.

“Absolutely nothing,” Ryter tells her, sounding amused.

“You're an ignorant old man!” she says heatedly. “You have no right to speak of such things!”

“No right to say you're brave and good and have a perfect nose?” Ryter chuckles and rubs at his scraggly white beard. “Wait, I understand. What you really mean is, a normal doesn't have the right to speak on equal terms with a child of Eden. Yes, that's it,” he adds, musing to himself. “You can't help but think that way. Superiority has been bred into you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, and into every chromosome between. And yet still you come to the latches, first to experience adventure, and then to help. Which proves my initial impression, that you have a good heart, despite your breeding.”

All Lanaya can manage to say is, “Hmmpf!” and then she turns away and busies herself with the console. Like she doesn't care what the old gummy thinks of her. Except even a dumb normal like me can tell she does care.

Ever since we made our escape, Little Face has been staring at her like he's looking into the sun. When she turns her attention back to the command console, he crawls out of his seat and edges closer to her, like he's afraid he'll get burned but still he's willing to take the chance just to be near her.

“Chox?” he asks in his smallest voice.

Without really looking at him, Lanaya asks, “Is this child hungry?”

“He's always hungry,” I tell her.

“Tell him I have no choxbars. They were taken by the mob.”

“Tell him yourself,” I say.

“How dare you be so impertinent!” she says.

“I'm not being impertinent,” I explain, as gently as possible. “It's just that Little Face wants you to pay attention to him. That's why he asked for a choxbar. It's the only way he knows how to talk.”

Lanaya swivels her beautiful head at me. “You mean ‘chox' is the only word he knows?” When I nod, she says, “We'll see about that!” Then she smiles at Little Face and goes, “My name is Lanaya. Can you say ‘Lanaya'?”

Little Face crawls back to his seat, where he snuggles up next to me, hiding his eyes from the beautiful proov girl.

“What did I do?” Lanaya asks, sounding upset.

“You did nothing wrong,” Ryter assures her. “He's a feral child. No mother, no father, no one to care for him or raise him or teach him how to be human. So he's existed much like an animal, without language. He thinks in images, not words.”

“How strange,” says Lanaya, sounding amazed.

Ryter shakes his head sadly. “Not strange, I'm afraid. His condition is all too common in the latches. And becoming more common every day.”

Suddenly an electronic voice speaks from the console. “PATROL VEHICLE APPROACHING,” it announces.

“Uh-oh,” Lanaya says. She issues a command to the takvee: “Evasive action. Keep out of range.”

The takvee turns and picks up speed.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

“Eden security patrol,” she explains. “We're not supposed to be here. No one is. That's why they call it the Forbidden Zone.”

“Right,” I say, feeling dumber than ever.

“If they catch us, will we be detained?” Ryter asks.

“They wouldn't dare,” Lanaya tells him. “But I'd be reported.”

She makes being reported sound worse than being detained, but the way it works out, the takvee avoids the security patrol no problem and before long we're crossing out of the Zone into the next latch.

The latch where Bean lives. If she still lives, which is something I can't stand to think about, so I don't. Of course she still lives, she has to. Bean wouldn't dare not be alive when we've taken all this trouble to get to her, would she?

“Something wrong?” Ryter asks me.

“No,” I tell him. “I'm fine.”

“Uh-oh,” Lanaya says again. But this time it's not the Eden security patrol she's worried about. It's what has come out of the rubble to greet us. Vandals swarming from nowhere on their jetbikes, waving splat guns and forcing us to stop.

And there, riding high and mighty on the biggest jetbike, is someone I know, someone I hoped never to see again.

Lotti Getts, boss of the Vandals, boss of the latch.