Specials

by Scott Westerfeld

  “Position-finders,” Tally said softly. “With a route programmed in?”

  “Yes. This one brought me here to meet these young runaways. And this one will lead you to the New Smoke. Do you know how it works?” Andrew’s calloused, grubby forefinger hovered over the boot button of one of the finders, and there was an eager look on his face.

  “Yeah, no problem. I’ve used them before.” Tally smiled back at him, reaching for the device.

  He pulled it away. She looked up, hoping she wouldn’t have to take it by force.

  His fist stayed closed. “Do you still challenge the gods, Young Blood?”

  Tally frowned. Andrew knew that she had changed, but how much?

  “Answer me,” he said, his eyes bright in the moonlight.

  She took a moment before answering. Andrew Simpson Smith wasn’t like the non-Specials in the city, the blank-eyed mass of uglies and pretties. Living in the wild had made him more like her: a hunter, a warrior, a survivor. With the scars of a dozen fights and accidents, he almost looked like a Cutter.

  Somehow, Tally didn’t see Andrew as wallpaper. Whether or not she could deceive him, she realized now that she didn’t want to.

  “Do I still challenge the gods?” Tally thought of what she and Shay had done the night before, breaking into the city’s most guarded facility and practically destroying it in the process. They had set off on their own without telling Dr. Cable their true plans. And this whole journey was, for Tally at least, more about fixing Zane than winning the city’s war against the Smoke.

  The Cutters might be Specials, but over the last few days Tally Youngblood had reverted to her own nature: thoroughly Crim.

  “Yes. I still challenge them,” she said softly, realizing that it was true.

  “Good.” He grinned, relieved, and handed her the position-finder. “Go then, follow your boyfriend. And tell the New Smoke that Andrew Simpson Smith was very helpful.”

  SPLIT

  As Tally made her way back down the river, she held the position-finder tightly in her scarred hand, thinking hard.

  Once she told Shay about her encounter with Andrew Simpson Smith, the plan would change. With the finder the two of them could fly ahead of the slow-moving runaways, reaching the New Smoke long before Zane and his crew. By the time the Crims arrived, their destination would be a Special Circumstances encampment, full of imprisoned Smokies and recaptured runaways. Showing up after the rebellion had already been crushed wouldn’t make Zane look very bubbly.

  Worse, he’d be out here on his own for the rest of the trip, with only his Crim friends to help if something went seriously wrong. One bad fall from his hoverboard and Zane might not survive to see the New Smoke at all.

  But how much would Shay care about all that? What she really wanted was to find the New Smoke, save Fausto, and get her revenge on David and the rest of them. Babysitting Zane wasn’t her idea of an important mission goal.

  Tally slowed to a stop, suddenly wishing she hadn’t run into Andrew Simpson Smith at all.

  Of course, Shay didn’t know about the position-finder yet. Maybe she didn’t need to know. If they stuck with the original plan, tracking the Crims the old-fashioned way, Tally could save the finder as a backup in case they lost the trail. . . .

  She opened her hand, looking down at the finder and at her scars, wishing for some of the clarity she’d felt the night before. She thought of drawing her knife, but remembered the expression on Zane’s face as he stared at her scars.

  It wasn’t that she needed to cut herself, after all.

  Tally closed her eyes, willing herself to think clearly.

  Back in ugly days, Tally had always wimped out on decisions like this one. She’d always avoided any confrontation. That’s how she’d wound up betraying the Old Smoke by accident, too afraid to tell anyone about the tracker she carried. And how she’d lost David, by never telling him she’d been a spy.

  Lying to Shay now was what the old Tally would have done.

  She took a deep breath. She was special now; she had clarity and strength. This time, she would tell Shay the truth.

  Closing her fist, Tally urged her board forward again.

  • • •

  Ten kilometers upriver, her skintenna pinged as it picked up Shay’s.

  “I was getting worried about you, Tally-wa.”

  “Sorry, Boss. I ran into an old friend.”

  “Really? Anyone I know?”

  “You never met him. Remember my campfire stories about the Restricted Experimental Area? The Smokies have started freeing the villagers and training them to help with runaways.”

  “That’s crazy!” Shay paused. “But wait a second. You knew him? He was from the same village you stumbled into?”

  “Yeah, and I’m afraid it’s no coincidence, Shay-la. It’s the holy man who helped me, remember? I told him where the Rusty Ruins were. He was the first to escape, and he’s an honorary Smokey now.”

  Shay whistled in amazement. “Very random, Tally. So how was he supposed to help the Crims? Teach them to skin rabbits?”

  “He’s sort of a guide. Runaways give him a code word, and he gives them position-finders that lead you to the Smoke.” She took a deep breath. “And for old times’ sake, he gave me one too.”

  • • •

  By the time Tally caught up with Shay, the Crims had made camp.

  Tally watched from the darkness as one by one they made their way to the river’s edge, dipping their purifiers into the silty water. She and Shay had hidden themselves downwind, and smells of self-heating food packs drifted from the runaways’ camp. Tally vividly remembered all the tastes and textures from her own days in the wild, catching the scents of CurryNoods, PadThai, and the hated SpagBol on the breeze. Her ears picked up snatches of the Crims’ still-excited chatter as they prepared to sleep the ‘day’ away.

  “They did a good job on this thing—it won’t tell me the final destination.” Shay was playing with the position-finder. “It only gives you one waypoint at a time; it waits till you get there to give you the next one. We’ll have to follow the whole path to find out where it ends.” She snorted. “It’ll probably take us the scenic route.”

  Tally cleared her throat. “It won’t be us, Shay-la.”

  Shay looked up. “What’s that, Tally?”

  “I’m staying with the Crims. With Zane.”

  “Tally . . . that’s a waste of time. We can travel twice as fast as they can.”

  “I know.” She turned to face Shay. “But I’m not going to leave Zane out here with a bunch of city kids. Not in his condition.”

  Shay groaned. “Tally-wa, you’re so pathetic. Don’t you have any faith in him? Don’t you keep telling me how special he is?”

  “It’s not about being special. This is the wild, Shay-la. Anything can happen: accidents, dangerous animals, his condition getting worse. You go ahead alone. Or call the rest of the Cutters—you won’t have to worry about getting spotted, after all. But I’m staying close to Zane.”

  Shay’s eyes narrowed. “Tally . . . this is not your choice. I’m giving you an order.”

  “After what we did last night?” Tally let out a choked laugh. “It’s a little late to lecture me about the chain of command, Shay-la.”

  “This isn’t about the chain of command, Tally!” Shay cried. “This is about the Cutters. About Fausto. You’re choosing those bubbleheads over us?”

  Tally shook her head. “I’m choosing Zane.”

  “But you have to come with me. You promised you’d stop making trouble!”

  “Shay, I promised that if they made Zane special, I’d stop trying to change things. And I’ll keep that promise, once he’s a Cutter. But until then . . .” Tally tried to smile. “What are you going to do? Report me to Dr. Cable?”

  Shay let out a long hiss. Her hands were curled into fighting position, her teeth bared to show their points. She jerked her chin at the runaways. “What I’m going to do, Tally-wa, is go over t
here and tell Zane that he’s a joke, a dupe, and that you’ve been tricking him—laughing at him. Let him run home scared while we end the Smoke forever, and see if he ever becomes a Special then!”

  Tally clenched her own fists, holding Shay’s gaze. Zane had already paid enough for her lack of courage; she had to stand her ground this time. Her mind spun for an answer to Shay’s threat.

  A moment later she saw it, and shook her head. “You can’t do that, Shay-la. You don’t know where that finder leads. It could take you to another test of some kind—not some barbarian, but a Smokey who’ll know what you are, and who won’t give you the next set of directions.” Tally gestured at the runaways. “One of us has to stay with them. Just in case.”

  Shay spat on the ground. “You don’t give a damn about Fausto, do you? He’s probably being experimented on right now, and you want to waste time tracking these bubbleheads!”

  “I know that Fausto needs you, Shay. I’m not asking you to stay with me.” She spread her hands. “One of us has to go ahead, and the other stay with the Crims. It’s the only way.”

  Shay made another hissing sound and stalked away to the river’s edge. She yanked a flat stone from the mud and hoisted it, ready to throw it out across the water.

  “Shay-la, they might see,” Tally whispered. Shay paused, her arm still cocked. “Look, I’m sorry about this, but I’m not being totally random, am I?”

  Shay’s response was to stare at the stone for a moment, then drop it back into the mud and draw her knife. She began to roll up the arm of her sneak suit.

  Tally turned away, hoping that once her mind was clear, Shay would understand.

  She watched the runaway camp, where everyone was eating carefully, apparently having realized that self-heating meals could burn their tongues. That was the first lesson everyone got out in the wild: Nothing could be trusted, not even your own dinner. It wasn’t like the city, where every sharp corner had been rounded off, every balcony equipped with a resistance field in case you fell, and where the food never came boiling hot.

  She couldn’t leave Zane out here alone, even if staying with him made Shay hate her.

  A moment later, Tally heard Shay standing up, and turned to face her. Her arm was bleeding, her flash tattoos in dizzying motion, and as she approached, Tally saw the telltale sharpness of her eyes.

  “All right. We split up,” she said. Tally tried to smile, but Shay shook her head. “Don’t you dare get happy about this, Tally-wa. I thought making you into a Special would change you. I thought if you could see the world clearly, you’d think about yourself a little less. It wouldn’t just be you and your latest boyfriend; I thought you might let something else matter every once in a while.”

  “I care about the Cutters, Shay, honest. I care about you.”

  “You did until Zane reappeared. Now, nothing else matters.” She shook her head in disgust. “And I’ve been trying so hard to please you, to make this work for you. But it’s pointless.”

  Tally swallowed. “But we have to split up—it’s the only safe way to make sure the finder works.”

  “I know that, Tally-wa. I can see your logic.” Shay looked at the runaways, disgust all over her wildly spinning face. “But answer me this: Did you think it all through and then realize we should split up? Or had you already decided to stick with Zane, no matter what?”

  Tally opened her mouth, then closed it.

  “Don’t bother lying, Tally-wa. We both know the answer.” Shay snorted, turned away, and snapped her fingers for her hoverboard. “I really thought you’d changed. But you’re still the same self-centered little ugly you’ve always been. That’s what’s amazing about you, Tally—even Dr. Cable and her surgeons don’t stand a chance against your ego.”

  Tally felt her hands begin to tremble. She had expected an argument, but not this. “Shay . . .”

  “You’re even a failure as a Special, always worrying about everything. Why can’t you just be icy?”

  “I always tried to do what you—”

  “Well you can stop trying now.” Shay reached into the storage compartment of her board and pulled out medspray, giving her bleeding arm a long squirt. Then she pulled out a few more sealed packages, tossing them into the mud at Tally’s feet. “Here’s a pack of smart plastic, if you have to go undercover. A couple of skintenna beacons and a satellite booster.” She let out a bitter laugh, her voice still quivering with contempt. “I’ll even give you one of my leftover grenades. Just in case something big gets between you and shaky-boy.”

  The grenade dropped to the ground with a thud, and Tally flinched.

  “Shay, why are you—”

  “Stop talking to me.” The order silenced Tally, who could only stare as Shay rolled her sneak suit down her arm and drew its hood over her face, replacing her furious expression with a mask of midnight darkness. Her voice came distorted through the mask. “I’m not waiting around any longer. Fausto’s my responsibility, not that pack of bubbleheads.”

  Tally swallowed. “I hope he’s okay.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Shay leaped onto her board. “But I’m all done with caring what you hope or think, Tally-wa. Forever.”

  Tally tried to speak, but Shay’s last word had come out so coldly that she couldn’t.

  Shay rose into the sky, her silhouette barely visible against the dark trees on the other bank. She slipped out over the river, then shot into the blackness, disappearing instantly, like something winking out of existence.

  But Tally could still hear her breathing through the skintenna link. It sounded harsh and angry as it began to fade, as if Shay’s teeth were still bared in hatred and disgust. Tally tried to think of one more thing to say, something that would explain why she had to do this. Staying with Zane was more important than being a Cutter, more important than any promise she’d ever made.

  This decision was about who Tally Youngblood was inside, whether ugly or pretty or special. . . .

  But a moment later Shay was out of range, and Tally still hadn’t said a word. She found herself alone and in hiding, waiting for the Crims to fall asleep.

  INCOMPETENCE

  The Crims tried to build a fire, and failed.

  All they managed to do was set a few wet branches smoldering, the angry hiss so loud that Tally could hear it from her hiding place. They never got a real blaze going, and the pile was still sputtering desultorily as dawn began to break. That’s when the Crims noticed the dark column of smoke rising into the lightening sky, and tried to put it out. They wound up dumping handfuls of mud on the half-alive fire. By the time they had it under control, their city clothes looked like they’d been sleeping rough for a week.

  Tally sighed, imagining Shay’s chuckle as they struggled with the simplest things. At least they had realized that it was smarter to sleep during the day and travel at night.

  As the runaways wrestled their way into sleeping bags, Tally allowed herself to fall into catnap mode. Specials didn’t need much sleep, but she could still feel the Armory break-in and the long hike afterward in her muscles. The Crims would be bone tired after their first night in the wild, so now was probably the best time to catch up on her rest. Without Shay along to trade watches with, Tally might have to stay alert for days at a time.

  She sat with her legs crossed, facing the runaway camp and setting her internal software to ping every ten minutes. But sleep didn’t come easily. Her eyes burned with unshed tears from the fight with Shay. Accusations still echoed in her mind, making the world fuzzy and distant. She took slow, deep breaths, until finally her eyes fell closed. . . .

  Ping. Ten minutes already.

  Tally checked the Crims, who hadn’t moved, then tried to fall asleep again.

  Specials were designed to sleep this way, but being roused every ten minutes still did weird things to time. As if Tally was watching a fast-motion video of the day, the sun seemed to rise quickly into the sky, the shadows shifting around her like living things. The soft sounds of th
e river blurred into a single droning note, and her mind drifted uneasily between worry for Zane and dejection about the fight. It seemed like no matter what happened, Shay was destined to hate her. Or maybe Shay had been right, and Tally Youngblood had a talent for betraying her friends. . . .

  When the sun was almost at its peak, Tally awakened not from the sound of a ping, but from a blinding flash hitting her eyes. She jolted upright, hands curled in fighting position.

  The light was coming from the Crims’ camp. As she rose, it winked out again.

  Tally relaxed. It was only the runaways’ solar-powered hoverboards spread out across the riverbank to recharge. As the sun moved across the sky, it had caught the reflective cells at just the right angle to shine in Tally’s eyes.

  Watching the boards sparkle, Tally felt uneasy. After only a few hours on board, the runaways didn’t really need to recharge yet—they should be a lot more worried about staying invisible.

  Shielding her eyes, Tally looked up. To any passing hovercar, the unfurled boards would glitter like a distress beacon. Didn’t the Crims realize how close to the city they were? Their few hours of boarding had probably seemed like an eternity to them, but they were still practically on the doorstep of civilization.

  Tally felt another wave of shame. She had disobeyed Shay and betrayed Fausto to babysit these bubbleheads?

  She opened her skintenna to the city’s official channels, and instantly picked up chatter coming from a warden’s car on a slow, lazy patrol along the river. The city had realized by now that last night’s pranks had been diversions for yet another escape. All the obvious routes away from the city—rivers and old rail lines—would be under scrutiny. If the wardens spotted the unfurled hoverboards, Zane’s escape would come to an ignominious end, and Tally would have gone against Shay for nothing.

  She wondered how to get the Crims’ attention without revealing herself. She could throw a few rocks, hoping to wake them up with a convincingly random noise, but they probably didn’t have a city-band radio with them. The runaways wouldn’t recognize the danger they were in—they’d just go back to sleep.