Wherever it was, he hoped he hadn’t just climbed out of one furnace and into another.
CHAPTER 2
62 WAS GLAD THAT HE'd been in the Training and Skills Kinesiology Center for physical training before he'd been removed from Adaline. After such constant exercise, he was faring better than some of the others on the trail. Those older or younger than him, who were accustomed to sitting at desks or being carried by their Nurses, shared hushed complaints of aching muscles and tired minds despite the warning not to speak. Whenever a complaint rang too loud, those leading the evacuation would move among the group and reprimand the speaker, regardless of their age. Even the youngest children were warned not to whine. 62 kept to himself.
There was no way to measure the time, but it was a long while before Chance raised his hands to motion the group to stop. The light above the group had begun to fade, seemingly on its own. The bright light that had hung high in the sky when they’d escaped had somehow moved itself down toward the horizon as if it were putting itself to bed. Chance pointed to his assistants and twirled his finger in a circular motion. The outlaws ran away from the huddled refugees and disappeared into the rough terrain for a few minutes before re-emerging with voices ragged with heavy breathing. “All clear,” they each said in turn. When the final scout confirmed the area was empty, Chance raised his voice loud enough for all to hear.
“We've made it to our first checkpoint, and just in time. We're about to lose the light.” Chance looked over the confused faces. “Above ground, light is controlled by nature. In the day, a distant star called the Sun brightens the sky so that we can see. At night, a figure called the Moon rises and more distant stars appear, but otherwise the world is dark. Right now, the sun is leaving the sky in preparation for the moon's rise.”
Blue had pulled his hood down and 62 could make out his brilliant blue eyes through the lens of his mask. He hadn’t needed to look through the lenses of the people around him to spot his friend though, the facemask Blue was wearing was the color of the clear skies overhead. He was standing with another Boy wearing a black mask, not too far away. His head was tilted near the other young person, his blue mask wiggling and head nodding from time to time as the two shared a quiet conversation below the instructions being given. A stab of jealousy struck 62 as Blue talked to the figure beside him. He waved to catch his friend's attention and pointed at Chance in what he hoped Blue would see as confusion.
Blue moved through the group to 62 and the other wild-haired Boy followed. Overhead, Chance bellowed instructions to remove their brown ponchos and replace them with the silver ones tucked away in their pockets. Blue sidled up to 62 and leaned into his ear. “It's about to get really dark,” he explained. “We don't carry lights with us because Adaline's patrol bots can see ‘em. The brown poncho helps us blend in with the land during the day, but it don’t do a thing to hide the heat signatures that Defense looks for at night. The silver ones mask our body heat from the scanners.”
62 nodded, although he didn't understand. He removed the brown poncho carefully, and while he tried to fold it back up the way it had been when he first received it, he glanced up at the Boy who seemed glued to Blue’s hip. Blue and the Boy beside him wrangled their own unruly ponchos into messy bundles. The Boy looked up, catching 62’s glare. His hair was long and wild, standing on end in places, flopping this way and that. He balled up the troublesome fabric, tucked it under his arm and took a few steps forward.
“Hey, kid. What’s your number?” the Boy asked. His tone was annoyingly friendly.
“1124562,” 62 answered in a curt voice. Before he knew what was happening arms were around him, squeezing him tight.
“Finally,” the Boy half-shouted as his embrace tightened around 62’s lungs. “Somebody from my own group! It’s fine up here, you know. Lots of people to talk to. But now I’ll have someone my own age again.”
62 looked over his assailant’s shoulder at Blue. His friend shrugged his shoulders and went back to battling the poncho in his hands. The Boy released his hold on 62 just long enough for him to take in a quick breath before clamping down in another tight hug. As the air rushed out of his lungs 62 wheezed, “Who are you?”
“1125000,” the amorous assailant answered. “It’s been a while. Maybe you don’t remember me. We were in the same pod together.”
62 wriggled free. He put his hands on the shoulders of the other Boy and pushed him back to arm’s length. “00? You’re alive?”
“Well, yeah.” 00 laughed.
“I can’t believe it!” This time it was 62 who wrapped his arms around 00. “You made it out! We all thought you were dead.” 62 looked around them at the other rescuers. “How come you don’t have a colored mask like the other guys? Were you just rescued?”
“Nope, I’ve been up here a while,” 00 said. He stroked the black fabric of his mask. “I just like the color.”
“Hey, I hate to break up the reunion,” a silver clad Blue interjected in an uncomfortable tone, “but get your other ponchos on. Everyone else is almost ready to go.”
62 let go of his brother. He was smiling wide under his mask as he looked around. Sure enough, nearly everyone else already had their ponchos changed and were putting the brown ones into pockets sewn into the front of the reflective fabric. An explosion of joyful urgency shot through him and he went back to getting changed.
00 talked while he went back to his work, words barely understandable over the sounds of his brown poncho being unfurled and refolded. “I got stuck in the maintenance tunnels for a few cycles when I first got out. I was lucky to find a service hatch in the feeding tubes above the pods right after I left, so I didn’t starve to death. Man, talk about stuck with no backup plan.”
“How’d you get out?” 62 had finally folded the brown poncho into a neat packet, nearly as small as it had been when he first got it. He unfolded the silver poncho and found the pocket. He placed the brown bundle there.
“I found him, of course,” Blue said casually. “It wasn’t hard. This yahoo was camped out by the meal tab tubes and hadn’t bothered to find a way to bathe. I just followed the stench.” Blue waved a hand in front of his mask as if batting away a wretched smell.
62 had more questions to ask, but Chance’s voice rang out in the air. Looking around, everyone was ready to go. 62 finished putting on the silver poncho and shifted his attention back to Chance. The light on the horizon was dimming and it was hard to make out Chance’s eyes under the shadow of his hood. Although the spreading shadows made him hard to see, the authority in his voice made his presence unmistakable.
“Now that we’ve caught our breath, let’s take a minute to get acquainted. When I point at you, give us your name or number.” Chance’s finger pointed around the featureless figures huddled together. When the entire group had announced who they were, Chance spoke again.
“Glad to meet all of you. I’m sure we’ll get to know one another better in the days ahead. In the meantime, we need to keep moving.” The group around Chance groaned. “Sorry, we can't rest yet. I know that you’re all tired, and with night falling our hike is about to get trickier. You won't be able to see much, so when we get going you need to hold the hand of the person in front of you. Those of you carrying equipment or small children stay up front with me. The rest of you, hold those hands tight and don't let go. If you get lost out here, we can’t come back to find you.” Chance ignored the worried rustle of fabric from the people around him. “On the bright side, we’re only an hour’s walk from where we can talk in normal voices again. That'll help us stay awake tonight.”
62 got into line as the last few rays of light dissolved over distant hills. He grasped the hand of the Man ahead of him, and Blue’s hand, who had fallen into place just behind. His lips pursed tight to quiet any more questions about 00, who followed behind Blue. He was lost in thought, pondering 00’s escape. When the hand ahead of him jerked forward he tripped with the shock of movement. He shuffled through the grit to
stay upright, his rearward hand tugging at Blue. Panic overwhelmed his senses. He couldn’t see anything, and the darkness made him feel off balance as he trudged forward in line. His toes clipped the heel of the Man in front of him and a gruff, “Watch it,” was thrown back over the victim’s shoulder.
62 felt Blue give a reassuring squeeze to the hand held behind him, but as he walked forward, blind and silent, it didn't help him feel any better.
CHAPTER 3
THE SUN WAS ON ITS second rise over the horizon before the group stopped for sleep. 62's eyes burned, his hands shook, and his legs felt like they might fall off. There weren’t any beds, but it didn't matter. The early morning air was cold, pushed around by a strong wind. Dust pelted every inch of 62’s body and what little skin he wasn’t able to keep covered up was raw from the grit. He’d given up trying to wipe the muck from the lens of his mask hours ago. He’d spent the last two solar cycles feeling the dust moisten itself with the sweat of his forehead, dry until it felt like he was wearing a second mask, and then crack when he moved so more dust could find its way to his sweaty skin again.
Chance conducted a quick lesson to explain what plants were as the group stood under a cluster of tall wavering sticks called trees. Chance said that they were going to use their long swaying branches as cover, and no one had the energy to ask what that meant. The leader made quick work of instructing his assistants, and they in turn showed the refugees how to gather fallen branches and other materials from the ground. Blue and 00 worked with the rescuers propping bits of plants up against one another until a small shelter was constructed. 62 tried to help, but discovered that no matter how hard he tried, he was causing more harm than good, always seeming to be in the way. Finally, he moved to the side of the work being done and stood there, body sagging on his bones, watching the rescuers work.
Once complete, Chance went inside and inspected the structure. When he emerged, he instructed all the tired bodies to climb inside.
The smaller children and infants had screeched unhappily ever since their keepers had become too exhausted to placate them. Once in the dark cover of the shelter, however, they settled into the soft fluff of dry leaves that made up the floor and stopped squawking as they drifted to sleep. It wasn't long before everyone else in the group followed their lead.
Blue and 00 jockeyed themselves into the lean-to and beside 62. They crowded into him, pushing themselves around him and arguing quietly about which side of 62 they wanted to lie down on. 62 rolled his tired eyes and leaned into the wooden wall behind him to escape their jostling. A branch poked him in the side. “Ow! You guys, there’s not enough room for all of us.”
“Well, I was here first,” Blue and 00 blurted in chorus. The bags under their eyes made the masks they wore look like long scowls, appearing more vexed than 62 hoped either of his friends intended.
62 looked at his companions, unsure of why they looked so angry, but too tired to find out. Instead, he wriggled between them, turning to one side to rest his legs across Blue’s lap, and dropping his head against 00’s shoulder on the other. Their worn bodies pressed back against him and the three friends seemed to melt into one another even as they grumbled about being crammed together in such a tight spot. The wind blew around them, barely blocked by the boughs of the shelter. The world was noisy, and the air grew hot and stuffy as the sun rose higher in the sky. 62’s nose was clogged. No one had said it was safe to remove the masks, so 62 suffered through breathing ragged short breaths through his mouth despite his sore throat. The heavy sweat in his eyelashes plastered the thin hairs together when he closed his eyes. 62 pulled the hood of his poncho over his face to block the light, then let the weariness deep in his bones take over. It didn’t matter that his limp body rested on knobby knees and pointy elbows. Knowing that he had two friends, even if they were arguing, was all the comfort he needed to drift down into unconsciousness.
62 had been trained to control his dreams long ago, although he hadn't had the opportunity to dream unsupervised for more cycles than he could count. Defense had discovered his ability to dream back in Adaline, and had hooked him up to a Machine that used his unique ability to track down and destroy other creative thinkers. 62 hadn’t meant to lead them to his friend and teacher, 71, and had been horrified when Defense had captured the ancient Man. That had been the end of 62’s willing compliance. He wouldn’t let his anomaly be used to hurt the few people he cared for. When 62 refused to help Defense any longer, they'd sent him to be destroyed along with two dozen others who didn’t fit with Adaline’s rigid rules of perfection. 62 hadn't seen a bot since his rescue though, so when he felt his subconscious open he allowed it to continue.
Back in his cube, he’d often dreamed about being engulfed by wide open spaces, poa pratensis, and small make-believe creatures that 71 had made up. Each new discovery with 71 had been exciting and surreal. But as 62's dream formed now, the area around him became more complex than anything he’d ever dreamed before. Not only did he find long stems of the plant, that he now knew the above-grounders simply called “grass”, thrust beneath his feet, but there was also dirt and sand. Rocks and sticks littered the open area, and a myriad of small insects crawled among them. Birds flew in the air above him; many more birds than the single bluebird that 71 had imagined. They flitted about in varying palettes of color, some the size of his fist and others as large as a human infant.
The dream was beautiful and serene. Not long ago, 62 would have been overjoyed at the scene before him, but now he walked among the creatures of his mind and frowned. As beautiful as the area was, and despite the teeming life that populated it, he felt alone. Focusing on a point just beyond his grasp, he tried to open a connection. As he expected, a pinhole of light tore through the atmosphere and he approached it apprehensively. He pressed his ear against the opening and listened. No sound came through from the other side.
His lips pressed tight and he held his breath. Still, he couldn't hear anything. He used his mind to open the rift wider and spoke into it. His voice cracked a tentative, “Hello?”
Where a familiar voice should be, there was only the sound of air rushing past the opening in his mind. He forced the rip in his dream wider. 62 pressed his face to the bright shining light pouring out of the rift. He raised his voice a little louder. “Hello, is anyone out there?”
A consoling bird sang from somewhere behind him. He could feel the tickle of tiny feet climb over his toes as a couple of insects trailed across them. The breeze pressed softly against his skin in a warm embrace. But no sound came from beyond his dream. 62 sighed. He stepped back from the white light and allowed the seams of his mind to pull together, stitching themselves up until the opening disappeared. He sat down on the ground and closed his eyes tight. Placing his hands out in front of him, he willed a book and a pencil to appear from their secret places hidden in his memory.
He allowed the book to fall open in his lap. Aside from the waver of his eyes and the movement of his hand upon the page, 62 sat as still as a rock in the sand, transcribing all he'd learned upon its empty pages.
Just as he was finishing drawing a large black bird that he’d witnessed circling the sky the day before, there was a tilt of the ground beneath him. Thunder rolled through the air. The sky went gray and then the earth shook a second time. 62 snapped the book shut, tossing it and the pencil in the grass beside him. They disappeared with a snap. The shaking became more violent. Something wasn't right.
62 pressed his hands over his eyes and willed himself to wake up. The comforts of the dream faded away, replaced by the harsh reality of his body lying against the hard, lumpy ground. Two hands were clamped around his shoulders, shaking him awake.
“Wake up. It's time to go.” Blue stooped over him. 62’s head was on the ground. 00 was gone; the comfort of his shoulder taken with him.
62 nodded groggily in the dried leaves on the floor. Many of the others had already left the shelter and stood outside, changing their ponchos for another e
vening of walking. 62 rolled over to his knees. His body screamed back at him. Every muscle ached. His skin felt tight around his body and it itched terribly. His head throbbed. “Okay,” he croaked.
“It won't be as bad walking tonight,” Blue offered. “A couple more days like this and we’ll be home.”
“Are there beds there?” 62 asked grumpily.
Blue laughed and helped 62 up. “Yup.”
The two friends exited the shelter. 62 was blinded by the sun, shining bright as it hung in the sky. He grabbed the hem of Blue’s poncho and followed him blindly over to where the main group was gathering. 00 spotted 62 and he skipped over, his cheerful voice ringing out through the glaring afternoon light. “Hey there, lazy bones!” He gave Blue a sideways glance. Turning back to 62 his smile stretched the edges of his mask. “Did you sleep well?”
62 rolled his shoulders. As they moved, he felt a sharp wave of pain cascade down his back. “Not well. But, I slept. You seem cheerful.”
“We’re almost back to town. If nothing weird happens, we’ll be home in a couple of days. If everyone hurries up, we could be there by tomorrow. I’m hoping to swipe some meal tabs from one of you when we get there. Chance said we ran out of travel rations last night and I’m starving.”
“Meal tabs,” Blue scoffed. “You’re always chasin’ them, though I don’t know why. They’re not anywhere near as good as food. Real food, I mean. Fruit, bread, roasted meat. Man, I didn’t realize how hungry I was ‘till just now.” Blue wiped the chin of his mask as if he were drooling underneath.
“Nostalgia, I guess.” 00 shrugged his shoulders. “You wouldn’t know about that. You can’t miss something you never had.”
Blue glared at 00. “And you wouldn’t know a good meal if I shoved it down your throat myself.”
“Real food?” 62 asked, forcing himself in to break the tension. “What are those?”
The Adaline Series Bundle 1 Page 36