Luke froze. The sound of the bucket hitting the ground seemed to reverberate off all the trees in the woods.
But no one’s coming. Surely there aren’t any people here.
Luke dared to peek into an unbroken window. The house was dark inside. He could just barely make out an unmade bed, its surface a tangle of blankets.
See? Luke told himself. Abandoned. It just hasn’t been very long since the people left.
Luke bent over to pick up the bucket. He was just straightening up when he heard someone behind him yelling, “Hey, you! What are you doing out there? Why aren’t you inside watching, like everyone else? Come on!”
Hands clamped around his wrist before he had a chance to run.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Luke jerked away, but the motion sent him into a fit of coughing. He doubled over, unable to run now.
The hands let go of his wrist and began pounding on his back.
“Hey, you okay? Here, take a drink—”
Through his coughing, Luke heard the spigot turn, the water gush out. He moved his head over and gulped the water straight from the faucet. He got too much at once and began to choke; then he swallowed hard and sipped at it a little more cautiously.
“I guess you were really thirsty,” the voice above him said when Luke finally, weakly, took his head from under the water. Luke caught a glimpse of blue jeans, a sweatshirt, tousled blond hair—it was another boy, about Luke’s age.
“Where’d you come from?” the boy asked. “Have you heard the news yet?”
“What news?” Luke asked.
“Then you haven’t heard,” the boy said. “Come on—you’ve got to see for yourself—”
He grabbed Luke’s wrists again and began tugging. Luke could have pulled away this time, but he was curious. The boy didn’t seem threatening; he didn’t seem to want to hurt Luke. If anything, the boy seemed to want to help. Luke couldn’t understand that, any more than he could understand why the boy sounded so happy.
No, Luke corrected himself. He’s not just happy. He’s delighted. Overjoyed. Luke wished his friend Trey were there to supply the proper word. And then Luke knew it: This boy is ecstatic.
The boy broke into a run, pulling Luke along with him.
They ended up at another house nearby. The boy raced in through the front door.
“Look, everyone,” he announced. “Here’s a traveler, wandering by, who doesn’t know!”
Luke blinked frantically, trying to get his eyes to adjust. He could make out a whole crowd of people, all gathered around a television in the center of the room. Some of them glanced over at him, and he worried: Oh no, I’m going to have to make a decision again. Which side are these people on? Is my shirt facing the right way? Should I turn it really fast to show the Population Police insignia? Luke hugged his quilt tighter around his shoulders, hiding his shirt entirely.
It didn’t matter. Most of the people only looked at him quickly and then turned their attention back to the TV.
“What’s happening now?” the boy who had discovered Luke asked eagerly.
“Shh,” several people hissed. One man added, “They’re just showing—” but then he broke off, too mesmerized by the scene on the television screen to finish describing it.
Luke looked at the TV too. All he could see was a huge crowd of people, much larger than the one in this room. The camera panned past hundreds of faces, it seemed, all of them smiling or laughing or cheering. Then the camera pulled back, and Luke could see that the people were standing in a huge yard or field or meadow. Behind the crowd Luke could see the edge of a brick building.
His heart sank. He recognized the building: It was Population Police headquarters.
Luke had seen TV coverage of crowds cheering for the Population Police before. Last autumn, during one of the lowest points of his life, he and his friends had sat like zombies before the TV at Mr. Hendricks’s house. For hours they had watched Aldous Krakenaur, the head of the Population Police, tell his vision of the future to adoring crowds.
“It’s all staged,” Luke’s friend Trey had argued. “There can’t be that many people who love him that much. They’re probably being bribed to yell like that.”
“Like, the louder they cheer, the more food they get?” Nina had said.
“Exactly.”
Luke had wanted to believe Trey’s and Nina’s theories. He’d never imagined that other people—people just watching the TV coverage, people who weren’t being bribed—could stare as raptly as the people in this room were. Now he pictured people all over the country huddled around TVs, all worshipping the Population Police.
Then he heard what the people on the TV screen were shouting.
“The tyrants are gone!”
“We’re free!”
“Liberty for all!”
“What—?” Luke burst out.
The boy next to him beamed.
“Isn’t it great? The Population Police are out of power. The TV people say it was—how’d they put it?—a ‘peaceful overthrow of the government.’ ”
On the TV screen, the camera zoomed in on two people holding microphones. One was a beautiful woman with long blond hair, and the other was a man in a T-shirt and jeans. No, Luke corrected himself. It’s just a girl and a boy. They’re not much older than me.
“For those of you just joining us,” the girl began, then burst into a fit of giggles.
“Simone!” the boy scolded her.
“I know, I know,” the girl said, flipping her hair over her shoulder and regaining her composure. “It’s just, I almost sounded like a real TV reporter there for a minute, didn’t I? All the real TV people ran away, ’cause they were scared, I guess. ’Cause they used to work for the Population Police, and they don’t think they’d be very popular right now. So anyway, it’s just me and Tucker here telling you all this, and Jacob behind the camera, of course—hey, Jacob, you’re doing a great job.”
“Come on, Simone, get to the news,” Tucker complained.
“Okay, okay.” Simone stood up straighter, serious again. “This is the official Population Police Network, Poppy News for short, except I think we’re going to have to change that, because the Population Police are over. What do you think of ‘Freedom News,’ Tucker? Think that sounds good?”
“Simone, please, people are watching . . . ” Tucker was shaking his head and grimacing.
“And they should be,” Simone said, unruffled. “This is just incredible. This is a historic moment, one nobody would believe. I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it with my own eyes—”
“We’re at Population Police headquarters,” Tucker interrupted, “where the people have taken over. They took back their own government—”
“Without fighting,” Simone broke in. “No blood was spilled at all.”
“Well, yeah, I think there was some fighting,” Tucker corrected her. “Out in some of the villages. In the countryside. Some people are saying there were battles out there, and the Population Police just ran away. Because, you know, a lot of them weren’t really into the whole Population Police thing, they just joined up because they had to, to get food. So that’s what gave the people here the courage to take over the headquarters. Last night, I think, a lot of Population Police workers just left, so the building was practically empty this morning when this crowd showed up. They’ve been sharing all the food they found here—I had some really good bread, myself—”
“Tucker! You’re not being very professional,” Simone complained. “I don’t think newscasters are supposed to say what they got to eat.”
“But it’s an important detail. The Population Police had lots of food here. They were living like kings when everybody else was starving,” Tucker said.
“No more Poppies! No more Poppies!” Someone had started a chant behind Tucker and Simone. “No more Poppies!”
Simone started to say something else, but the sound was overwhelming. After a few moments, she just shrugged and held
her microphone out behind her, to capture the cheers.
“Is this . . . real?” Luke asked, still in shock.
One of the men sitting in front of the TV actually glanced away from it long enough to answer.
“All the Population Police officials in our town ran away yesterday,” he said. “That’s real enough for me.”
“And the Poppies wouldn’t let something like that be on TV if they were still in power,” another man said.
“But—who’s in charge now?” Luke asked.
“Looks like Simone and Tucker are, don’t you think?” the boy next to him joked.
Luke stared again at the chanting, cheering crowd on the TV screen. Simone and Tucker were clapping along now. Tucker spun Simone around, like they were so happy they couldn’t help dancing.
“I have to go there,” Luke said. “I have to see for myself.”
“Oh, me too!” the boy next to him said. “I’ll go with you!”
“Ricky Everts, you’ll do no such thing!” a woman in the crowd burst out. “It’s too dangerous. Any minute now, the Population Police could come back with tanks and guns and—and—”
“I’ll take them,” a man said, standing up. “It’s like the girl said—something like this, you’ve got to see for yourself to believe it.”
“Don, you’re crazy!” the woman argued. “It’s not safe—”
“I’ve been safe the last thirteen years,” the man said. “Some things are more important than safety.”
He began stalking toward the door.
Luke glanced back at the woman—Don’s wife and Ricky’s mother, he guessed. Her expression crumpled, and she held her arms out beseechingly. But she made no further move to stop anyone from leaving. Luke wanted to tell her that he understood her fears. She’s right, he thought. The Population Police do have tanks and guns. The people only have chants and dances. And hope. And . . . freedom?
He didn’t say anything to the woman. He just turned around and followed Don and Ricky out the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
By the time Don backed his pickup truck out of his garage, more than a dozen others had decided to join them. Don didn’t seem to care.
“Hop in,” he said, grinning from the driver’s seat.
Three or four people crowded into the truck’s cab; Luke was part of the group that jumped up into the truck’s bed. He settled near the front, his back against the cab’s window, his knees drawn up to his chest because there wasn’t room to stretch them out. Most of the rest of the group were men and boys, though a few girls and women had crowded in too. At the last minute, just before they pulled away, Don’s wife ran out of the house after them.
“Wait!” she called. “I’m coming too!”
“I thought you said it wasn’t safe,” Don teased her. “Did you change your mind?”
“No, but if you’re going, I am too,” she said.
The truckful of people cheered as she crowded into the cab. Two people got out to make room for her and scrambled into the back instead. Everyone scooted closer together to make room. As they drove off, Luke had one kid’s elbow in his ear and another kid practically sitting in his lap.
“At least this way we won’t get cold!” someone shouted, and everybody else laughed.
Luke couldn’t help remembering another time he’d been crowded with a bunch of other people onto the bed of a pickup truck. That time, his brother Mark had been driving, and Population Police officers had been shooting at them.
Could those Population Police officers have just given up? Luke wondered. And where’s Mark now?
Around him, people were singing as they sped into the dusk, giving the whole truck the feel of a traveling carnival.
“Hey, folks, I’m picking up the newscast on the radio,” Don yelled back from the cab. “You won’t believe this—it’s Philip Twinings on the air!”
Luke was glad when one of the other kids asked, “Who’s Philip Twinings?”
“He was a famous newscaster when we were kids,” one of the men explained. “He disappeared after the droughts—everybody thought he was dead.”
“Or arrested by the Government,” someone else muttered.
“That’s right—he spoke out against all the new laws they put in place. I bet he’s happy now!”
“Be quiet back there and I’ll turn it up!” Don yelled again from the truck cab.
The singing stopped. Dimly, over the rushing sound of the wind, Luke could hear a wobbly, old-man voice saying, “I want to thank Simone and Tucker for inviting me onto the air with them to cover this phenomenal turn of events.”
“Don’t mention it. We really didn’t know what we were doing.” Simone’s voice sounded small and hollow, suddenly.
“You did very well. You’ll be telling this story to your grandchildren someday, and you’ll have every right to be proud,” Philip said. His voice was stronger now. “We here at—shall we call it Freedom News, Simone?—are still trying to piece together this rapidly breaking news event. As near as we can tell, today’s coup began with many small events. On Monday, the Population Police sent units out all across the country, to issue new identity cards. We’ve received reports that in many places, the people refused to be identified and some even attacked the Population Police units. And we’ve got an unconfirmed report that in Chiutza, a young Population Police recruit defied his commander and refused to shoot an old lady. He gave his gun to the rebels instead. . . . ”
Luke gasped. He had to bite back the words, Wait! That was me—but that’s not exactly how it happened! He looked around and was glad that no one was watching him. Some of the people around him were squinting off into the distance, as if that could help them listen better.
“Philip, no disrespect here, but that story is pretty much confirmed,” Simone was saying. “We had an eyewitness tell us that that’s what gave his village the courage to throw the Population Police out. And everybody says that Chiutza is where the Population Police fell first.”
Luke tried to make sense of what he was hearing. When he’d dropped the gun, could someone have believed he was turning it over to the rebels? Could his one action have made that much of a difference?
“Uh, Mr. Twinings, sir,” Tucker was saying on the radio. “Shouldn’t you say that this whole coup thing was caused by those rebels who destroyed all the I.D.’s? If they hadn’t done that, the Population Police wouldn’t have had to go out to Chiutza and all those other places to issue new identity cards.”
Philip Twinings chuckled.
“It is indeed difficult to separate out all the roots of this incredible event. My guess is that historians will be trying to figure everything out for years to come. But just as there were many small erosions of freedom that led to the Population Police seizing total control, it would appear that many, many small acts of bravery brought the people back to power. Each act was important; perhaps the Population Police never would have fallen without every single effort. No matter how well journalists and historians do their jobs, the world will probably never know the full story of those brave acts or the total number of individuals involved. . . . ”
A man near Luke was rolling his eyes.
“That Philip Twinings always was a pompous jerk,” he muttered.
“Shh!” several others around him hissed.
Luke stopped listening so intently. He was picturing a glob of horse manure placed carefully in a path—his contribution to the effort to destroy all the identity cards.
Horse manure and a dropped gun—are you proud of me now, Jen? he thought. Maybe Philip Twinings was right, and even the smallest act was important.
Around him, the other people seemed to be getting tired of having to sit so quietly, listening.
“Shut up, Philip Twinings! I’m free to tell you that!” one man yelled, and everyone else laughed.
“No more showing identity cards every time we step outside!” someone else yelled.
“No more Poppies bossing us around!”
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“No more Poppies telling us we don’t deserve to eat!”
“No more Poppies!”
More laughter.
Luke could feel the edge of the Population Police insignia rubbing against his chest. If he told these people that he’d once been part of the Population Police, would they get upset? Would they believe him if he said he’d been the recruit in Chiutza who had maybe set off the whole overthrow of the government? Could he believe that himself? What if he told them he was a third child?
Am I still illegal? he wondered as he burrowed back into his corner of the truck bed. He was still holding the quilt that Eli had given him, and he wrapped it tighter around his shoulders.
Illegal or not, he was still trying to hide.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dusk passed quickly into darkness, but that didn’t stop any of the cheering and shouting in the truck. Luke wondered what the truckload of people would do if they arrived at Population Police headquarters and discovered that everyone had gone home for the night. What would I do? he wondered. Where would I go?
But when the truck neared the headquarters a few hours later, it was clear that nightfall had had no effect on the celebration. The gates stood open, completely unguarded. On the walls around the headquarters, someone had mounted huge klieg lights, so the scene within was as bright as day. Some people were dancing on top of the walls; others were cheering from the ground below.
Luke saw no sign of the barbed wire that had once surrounded the walls. He saw no sign of the guard station that had once stood by the gate—no, wait, there it was: toppled over and tossed to the side.
Don parked his truck several yards away, in the midst of an assortment of other vehicles that people had apparently abandoned so quickly that some of them hadn’t even bothered to close their doors.
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