by Charles Ray
“Okay,” Moses said. “We don’t have much time.” He turned to the others, each of whom had an empty pack. “You each have your instructions on what kind of book to get. Fill the packs as quickly as you can.”
“What do you want me to do?” Hiroshi asked.
Moses put a hand on Hiroshi’s shoulder.
“Well, I was thinking we might start our campaign against The Committee. It’d be nice if we could have you talk to someone in the community, you know, let them know you’re still alive. That might start word spreading that the monitors aren’t all that powerful.”
“I suppose I could go to the crèche and talk to my friend Washington. He could spread the word, both at the crèche and during work detail.”
“Good, we’ll go and do that.” He turned to the others. “When you’re finished, make your way back to the other side of the fence. Hiroshi and I will catch up to you as soon as we can.”
The two of them then made their way in the dark back to the grate. Moses made sure to put it back in place and cover it with foliage. He then followed Hiroshi to the west and south to the vicinity of the Columbus Heights Crèche. Hiroshi signaled a halt in a narrow alley about two blocks west of the facility.
“Wait here,” he whispered. “I know a way in without being seen. I’ll go in and talk to Washington.”
“I should go with you,” Moses said. “We don’t want anything happening to you now.”
“No, it would be better if I went alone. Don’t worry; I know every nook and cranny of that place. I can get in and out without being seen.”
Moses relented. He found a hiding place in a recess where a small hip wall had been built out from the building’s main wall.
“Okay,” he said to Hiroshi as he prepared to leave. “You need to get in and out in an hour. We want to be over the fence and far away from here before sunrise.”
Hiroshi nodded and, edging along the walls and keeping in the shadows, he walked to his old home.
He made his way around to the rear of the building where the trash bins were kept. A dark, seldom visited area, it had, along with the roof, been a place where Hiroshi, Washington, and Clementine had often met. The door had a lock, but he had long ago learned how to jiggle it to release the bolt. He did it as quietly and quickly as ever, and slipped into the dim hallway. It was nearing midnight, and the facility was quiet as he made his way through the building to the sleeping area. He eased through the door, passed a few sleep cubicles from which he could hear the sound of snoring or deep breathing, and came to the area near the back where he and Washington Benedict had slept for many years. In the dim light from a window set high up on the wall, he saw his friend huddled under the thin blanket. The adjacent cot, where he once slept, was empty.
Hiroshi knelt near the head of the cot and laid a hand softly on his sleeping friend’s shoulder.
“Wash, wake up,” he whispered.
The boy turned over, making a low moaning sound. His eyes opened. He stared up into Hiroshi’s face, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. Then, as his vision cleared, his eyes opened wide and he started to open his mouth. Hiroshi quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
“No, don’t say anything,” he whispered urgently.
Washington nodded. Hiroshi slowly withdrew his hand.
“They told us you were dead,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Well,” Hiroshi said. “That’s obviously not true. Get up and come with me, and I’ll explain everything.”
Washington pulled the blanket back and got out of bed. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Barefoot, he followed Hiroshi back through the building. In the back room, Hiroshi placed a hand on his chest, stopping him near the door.
“Okay, Hirosh,” Washington said. “What the hell’s going on, and where’s Clementine?”
Huddling close, Hiroshi told his friend what had happened from the time Octavia Olympus had summoned him to her office. He ended his tale with his and Clementine’s escape from New Liberty.
“But, she’s okay,” he said. “She’s being taken good care of.”
“By who?” Washington demanded. “Hirosh, how could you put her in a situation like that? You could have gotten her killed.”
“Hey, it wasn’t like I planned it. How was I to know they’d come for me early? It just happened, you know, and we had no choice but to run. I couldn’t leave her here after we killed those two monitors.”
Washington Benedict was angry with Hiroshi for endangering Clementine, which was clear from his expression. But, he was also impressed that his friends had beaten not one but two armed monitors.
“You two got away from the monitors,” he said. There was awe, mixed with anger in his voice. “Why did you come back? You know they’ll be looking for you.”
“I came back because people have to know they’re lying. They also have to know that the monitors aren’t as powerful as they try to make us believe. You’ve got to let people know, Wash. We don’t have to live like slaves anymore if we don’t want to.”
“But, if they catch you, they’ll kill you and make it look like they just found the body. We can’t beat the monitors, Hirosh, you know that.”
“I don’t know any such thing.” Now, there was anger in Hiroshi’s voice. “I only know that they’ve been lying to us for all these years, and using us like animals or machines. They didn’t kill me the first time, and they won’t this time. You just let people know I’m still alive. I have to go now, but I’ll be back.”
With that, Hiroshi slipped through the door and started along the wall toward the place he’d left Moses. He didn’t see his friend frown and then turn and head toward the front of the building. He didn’t see him talking to the monitor who stood guard at the front door. Had it not been that his senses were on high alert after his visit to the cache of books, he wouldn’t have heard the footfalls of the monitor who came around the side of the building, heading in his direction.
The scraping sound was just on the edge of his consciousness at first. Just a slight noise that seemed out of place. He quickly recognized the noise as footsteps, and that they were getting closer. He hugged the wall and slowly turned to look back the way he’d come. The monitor, in his black suit, was almost invisible at first, but he wasn’t being as careful as Hiroshi, so he didn’t walk close to the wall. Hiroshi saw the shadow as the monitor moved through pools of dim light where the full moon peeked through gaps in the clouds and smog.
“Damn,” he thought. “He must be the guard from the front. He might have heard me coming out. I hope Wash doesn’t get into any trouble.”
He couldn’t help his friend, especially if the monitor captured him. He also didn’t want to endanger Moses and the others. That left him with only one option. He darted from the wall, and ran across the street, away from where Moses was hiding.
“Halt, prole,” the monitor shouted.
Before the man could draw and fire his flechette pistol, Hiroshi had plunged into the darkness of the alley across the street, and was running full speed. He only hoped that Moses had seen what was happening and would make his way to the fence and freedom. He prayed that he would be able to elude the pursuing monitor and get there himself.
22.
Octavia Olympus arrived at the crèche early, only to find the place in chaos.
Black-uniformed monitors were all over the entry area, with children of all ages lined up along the walls being interrogated. Some of the younger children were crying, while the older ones looked sullen and angry at the treatment they were receiving. Her attendants stood by with helpless expressions.
She walked up to the monitor who seemed to be in charge.
“Excuse me, citizen,” she said coldly. “Do you mind telling me why you and your men are inside this facility without my permission?”
The man, fully a foot taller than Olympus, turned to face her. As was the custom when addressing citizens, he lifted his visor, revealing a broad-cheeked, ruddy face and dark blue eyes.
“Yes, I am. Now, will you tell me why you’re here? I gave no permission for monitors to enter this crèche.”
“Citizen, under Article 17 of New Liberty law, I don’t need permission to enter a structure when a crime is being committed, or when a criminal is present or has been present in that structure. A wanted felon was reported in this facility last night. My men and I have entered to question the residents to see if anyone saw this felon, or perhaps helped him.”
“A f-felon – were any of the chil-, er, residents, hurt?”
The monitor turned away, watching one of his men nearby as he ushered the children he’d been talking to away.
“That’s not my problem, citizen,” he said. “I’m here to track the felon down, who, by the way, was a former resident.”
Olympus’ eyes widened and she frowned.
“That’s impossible. I would know if any of my, the residents, were wanted by the authorities, and there is no one in that category since I became director of this facility.”
“There are two wanted felons who are recent residents,” he said. “Hiroshi Jackson and Clementine Adams; do you remember them?”
She took a step backwards, her hands going to her throat. Her already pallid complexioned became even more waxen.
“B-but, that’s impossible. Hi . . . the two of them were taken from here by your own people just a few days ago.”
The monitor remained impassive. He had a job to do, and wasn’t interested in the pallid woman’s views.
“That is incorrect, citizen,” he said. “They killed the two monitors who came for them, and escaped. One of your residents reported to the monitor on sentry duty that the felon Hiroshi Jackson came back last night. The monitor gave chase, but he escaped again. Oh, and should you repeat any of this, you will be in violation of security regulations, and subject to arrest – am I clear on that?”
Olympus stood there, her arms limply at her sides, staring at a point beyond the man’s head. She nodded dumbly. What he’d just said hit her like a blow to the stomach. On the one hand, she was happy to hear that Hiroshi and Clementine had escaped – the two of them had always been her favorites. On the other, she was shocked to learn that they’d killed, and monitors at that. She had never thought either of them capable of violence.
There was, of course, nothing she could do. The monitors had the law and The Committee on their side, and not even a citizen was above the law. She had done what would be expected of someone in her position, but to continue to challenge the monitor in the performance of his duties would look suspicious. She was curious, though, to know the identity of the resident who had reported Hiroshi’s presence. She couldn’t ask the monitor. That would be information she wasn’t entitled to have. Then, she thought of Washington Benedict. He was friends with both Hiroshi and Clementine. He might perhaps know.
She inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the monitor’s presence and demonstrating her obedience to the protocols. Then, she turned and walked slowly away, heading toward the sleeping area. She hadn’t seen Washington among those being questioned by the monitors, and assumed he would still be in the sleeping area.
She walked slowly past the monitors and the children. The former ignored her. As far as they were concerned, she was no more than part of the furnishings. That was the essence of the monitors, young men recruited from the citizen crèches when they turned sixteen, and taken to the monitor training school where they were stripped of their surnames and given numbers, and then turned into emotionless automatons. The children - and she found herself more and more thinking of them not as proles but just children - avoided her eyes as she passed. This too she understood. She was part of the system that treated them as economic production units instead of human beings. Even though, with each passing day, her own conditioning was weakening, she had tried to keep her emotional distance when interacting with them. It was the only way she could maintain her sanity. Now, though, it all seemed to be slipping away.
The hum of conversations, as the monitors asked their questions and the children answered in monosyllables, along with the drone of trite phrases about the ‘primacy of the community’ from the loudspeakers that were affixed at regular intervals along the top of the walls throughout most of the facility, followed her as she made her way from the entrance foyer, past the dining facility, to the sleeping area.
As she’d expected, she found Washington Benedict in the sleeping area. He sat on his cot, his back against the wall, and his head propped on his knees. As she approached, she could see that his body was shaking.
“Mr. Benedict,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
He looked up, a startled expression on his brown face. His cheeks were streaked with tears.
“Uh . . . no . . . headmaster. I . . . I . . . just wasn’t feeling well.” He stared at his knees.
She sat on the foot of the cot, facing him.
“Are you sure?” She reached over and placed a hand on his. “There are monitors outside. Did they talk to you?”
“No, they haven’t talked to me,” he said. He continued to look down at his knees.
“Washington, you know you should never try to lie to me. I always know when someone is lying. You, for instance, you can’t look me in the eye right now. That’s a sure sign you’re lying. Now, what did the monitors ask you? Did they ask about Hiroshi and Clementine?”
“Hiroshi and Clementine? I . . . uh . . . why would they be asking about them?”
“Because they’re still alive, and they escaped from the monitors,” she said. “And, Hiroshi was here last night.”
His mouth dropped open.
“Uh, how did you know that?” he asked.
“The question is, how did you know?” Then, it hit her, and she found it hard to believe. “Are you the one who told them?” she asked, hoping he’d say no, but somehow knowing he wouldn’t.
His face fell, and he started shaking and crying harder.
She moved up on the bed and put her arms around his shoulder, gently massaging his back. His body shook in her arms, and she could feel the wetness of his tears on her shoulder.
“I d-didn’t mean to,” he said between sobs. “I d-don’t know why I d-did it. I just did.”
“There, there,” she said. “It’s all right.”
He pulled back from her, his face contorted.
“No, it’s not all right,” he almost shouted. “I told on him. It was me that told the monitors that Hiroshi was here. They’ll kill him because of me.”
“Don’t worry, he’s not dead yet.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just know,” she said. “I just know.”
23.
Hiroshi ran all night. He ran to the river. Getting under the fence, he tore the shirt Rebecca Stennis had given him back in Freeland, and dug a furrow in his shoulder, which stung like hell for hours afterwards. Once under the fence and back up the river bank, he ran on. He ran until his lungs burned and he felt like he would drop from exhaustion. First he ran west, following along the river, and then he turned north, generally following the same route he and Clementine had used during his first escape from New Liberty.
His body finally began to flag just as the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. He had no idea how far he’d run, but he kept putting one foot in front of another, weaving from side to side, and occasionally bumping into trees. His vision was blurring and he felt a throbbing just above his temples.
In a bend in the trail, just as he began swinging around a large tree, his forward foot caught in a root that protruded a half inch above the surface of the earth. He pitched forward, landing face first, his mouth filling with dirt and leaves.
He sputtered and spit to clear his mouth, and then lay there, his chin on the ground, breathing noisily. His chest felt as if it was on fire. For a moment, all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. But, he
knew he had to get up, had to keep moving. He couldn’t stop now. Slowly, painfully, he began to lever himself up.
As his head came up, a strange looking apparition appeared before his eyes. His vision was blurred, causing the figure to waver and shimmer. It looked like a small bear at first, but then slowly his vision cleared, and he saw that it was even worse than a bear. A monitor, dressed in black from head to foot, a visor covering his face, stood athwart the trail, his flechette pistol aimed at Hiroshi’s head.
Hiroshi felt like a slowly deflating balloon. The air leaked from his lungs in a slow hiss. He’d pushed his body to the limits, survived two brushes with the monitors, found a new life, only to die because he’d fallen on his face in the forest right at the foot of a monitor who probably couldn’t find his way back to New Liberty on his own. Rather than fear, though, he only felt disgust and disappointment.
He had, at least, led the Freelanders to the books. Moses would remember the directions, and Hiroshi had no doubt that there would be more late night visits by the Freelanders, retrieving the precious texts. Moreover, Washington would spread the word that he’d been back in New Liberty, so, even in death he might serve as a rallying point for resistance to those across the river.
He’d made it onto his knees, but fatigue won out. He could rise no further. He hated the thought that he would die on his knees, but was determined not to beg for his life. He didn’t, however, want his last sight to be that of the faceless symbol of his oppression, so he closed his eyes and summoned up an image of Clementine, his lovely Clementine.
Hiroshi waited for the ripping sound of the flechette gun, to be followed by a moment of intense pain as dozens of the steel darts tore into and through his flesh, and then oblivion. He found that rather than dreading it, he faced it calmly. But, all he heard was the tweeting and cawing of early morning birds seeking food and the sigh of a soft wind blowing through the leaves, a wind that warmly caressed his cheeks.