He noticed Keeyla shiver, probably speculating on the woodland stretching before them. “Sad,” he said, “Now I remember the boy you’re talking about. He was sweet.”
She sighed. “Not sweet anymore.” Her ironic tone lingered in the air. Staring out the windshield, she said, “I couldn’t read the report. My hands were shaking so much. Why Fabal?” Turning from the window, she looked at Doogan. “He’s too young. I remember reading in the Chronicle about the mole casualties—”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore. As long as the Mediators don’t find us, Fabal will never have to be a mole.”
The motor pinged, panged, and complained in their temporary silence.
***
Keeyla wondered what would happen if the Mediators caught up with them. She cringed thinking of Gerbe Gibbernathy. The persecutions were vividly ingrained in her brain. The whippings, an occasional hanging for severe sedition, and once a firing squad, but only once, bullets were not to be wasted.
When she had arrived in Tallas, Keeyla, along with the multitude, was forced to watch the chastisements to teach the youngsters a lesson in protocol. Even Doogan’s broad back bore welted scars. He’d dared to trespass and pluck apples from an orchard. He would’ve been scot-free if the barbed wire hadn’t gored his leg and left a trail of blood for the guards to track. The illicit action drew him five lashes.
She considered that the past few years had been somewhat orderly, as long as you didn’t buck the system. Banishment was a regular threat, and surviving outside of Tallas wasn’t for the faint-hearted. Retaliation for provoking the system came swift and hard, and it didn’t matter how old or young. Management’s motto, Stabilization in Harmony with Humanity, was bitter fruit to swallow.
“Fabal would’ve made an excellent mole.” Doogan scratched his eyebrow, not looking at her. “He’s little, capable, and not afraid of hard work.”
“What?”
“I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t.” She peered at his profile. “Unless you feel we’re making a mistake.”
“After all this planning and discussing, what do you think?”
“After Gerbe was hanged—” Her throat tightened. “I kept waiting for Management to drag you away. If one person snitches.”
“We’re not talking about me,” he said, chasing fingers through his hair. “I can take care of myself. It’s Fabal they want now.”
“Fabal’s too young to understand.”
“You make me sound like a baby,” a stubborn voice cried, startling them. Fabal’s skinny frame hopped up. “I’ll be twelve soon. I might be small, but I can take care of myself.” Echoing his father’s sentence. “And I remember things, like, one day our mentor, Mrs. Snitzelwertz, whacked Fiona Gibbernathy for saying mean things about Management after her father was hanged. And Mrs. Snitzelwertz didn’t report her. Fiona was lucky not to be hanged, too.”
“You never mentioned that,” Keelya said, surprised by his outburst.
With downcast eyes, Fabal muttered, “I think we should go back and pretend we never left. I’d make a good mole.”
“Fabal!” Doogan and Keeyla reproached in unison.
“Besides—” A tear trickled along his nose. “I don’t want to see you both hanging from a noose like Fiona’s dad.” More drops washed his cheeks. “Let’s go back, please.”
“It’s too late,” Doogan said, resolved. “We’ve been in a planning stage for months. More people are involved than just us. It would be a deadly shame to expose them. We’re hoping for a change, a change for a new life—freedom.”
“But we are free,” Fabal whined, wiping his hand under his nose. “Remember the weekly intercom message. ‘People of free Tallas’?”
“Fabal, stop, right now,” Keeyla ordered, in a kind voice. She pushed her fingers through her strawberry blond hair, flinging it over her shoulders, then balanced her arm on the seat’s headrest. She studied her son’s dissenting expression. “We hated to leave our friends, you know that. But Tallas isn’t free. It’s a dictatorship. Like you becoming a mole at such a young age, for instance. We’re prolonging your childhood. Do you get my drift?”
“Yes,” he conceded. “But I don’t want you to.”
“We—we made the choice without consulting you,” Doogan said. “Maybe we shouldn’t have, but when Fulvio’s message arrived, it set the wheels in motion. Three cars and stolen gas, medicinal needs I’d horded over months from the Infirmary, food, and other supplies, and most especially, the water. You know how hard it is to salvage clean water? And this.” He held aloft a rectangular instrument. “A device only accessible to high-ranking Mediators and Elites.”
“Is that a cellular?” Fabal gawked, astonished. “Can I hold it for a sec?”
“Yes, but don’t touch the screen.” Attempting to hold his gaze on the rudimentary dirt road, Doogan fitted the apparatus into his son’s outspread palm. The car shuttered and rattled ascending the rocky rubble.
“Wow—this is so cool.” Fabal turned the cellular in his hand. “It’s slim, but thicker than a playing card. Being a Mediator isn’t all bad, if I can play with the awesome equipment. Does it work?”
“Of course,” Doogan said. “We’ll be hearing from them soon.”
Nibbling on his bottom lip, Fabal asked, “Who’s calling us? About what?”
“It’s best if you don’t know.” Doogan flipped his hand backward to retrieve the cellular.
“I’m starving. My stomach’s eating itself,” Fabal bellyached. “Do we have anything to eat?”
Chuckling, Doogan said, “The nifty cellular deterred your empty stomach temporarily, eh?” Stopping the car, he hurried to the trunk and returned, chucking flasks of water, a loaf of stale bread, and some cheese through the open window. He slid behind the wheel and rammed the gearshift into drive, tires skidding on pebbles. “We need to keep moving.”
***
Keeyla uncorked the water and offered it along with the cheese and bread, first to Fabal then Doogan. Despite her queasy stomach, she forced herself to nibble on a piece of cheese and swallowed a stingy dose of water. “You’ve been driving for hours. Want me to take the wheel so you can rest?”
Doogan braked, jerking them forward. “There’s the first symbol.” Three boulders, one on top of the other. “A snowman, that’s what it reminded me of. All right. We’re on the right track. I feel better now,” he said. “Yes, Keeyla, let’s switch for a while.”
The sun-drenched morning swelled in temperature to the likes of a baking oven. Keeyla’s clammy hands clenched the steering wheel as the car coughed up the side of the mountain. Fans of pine boughs scraped the rusty paint, the noise set her teeth on edge. Tepid air whooshed in the open window, whisking a blonde strand of hair into her eyes.
The others sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, when they suddenly heard a dissonant trill.
“What’s that?” Fabal said, instantly alert.
“The cell.” Doogan fumbled with the cellular and brought the device to his ear. Attentive in listening, his façade seemed to be crumbling into pieces. “No—no—all? All of them?”
Keeyla braked, idling.
“For sure? How much longer do you think we have?” He disconnected the call and stared at the device in disbelief.
“Doogan? What happened?”
“Dead—They’re all dead.”
Chapter 3
“Doogan, stay with us,” Keeyla said, snapping her fingers in front of him. “What should we do?”
“What’s happening, Dad?” Fabal’s staccato pitch resonated in the vehicle, as he tugged on his father’s shoulder. “Let’s go back, before it’s too late.”
“We need to get past their radar.” Doogan looked at Keeyla then at his son’s taut face. He grasped Keeyla’s wrist, preventing her from shifting into drive. “I’m driving.” Elbowing the door, he dropped the cellular on the ground and with his heel, smashed the apparatus to pieces.
“Why’d you do t
hat?” Fabal said.
Readjusting behind the steering wheel, Doogan stamped the pedal to the floor. “They’re able to pinpoint our location from the cell.” He turned the wheel, hand over hand, to avoid a tree. “They’ll be here soon,” he said. “We need to go farther—possibly hoof it the rest of the way.”
Keeyla’s breath quickened as the vehicle skidded precariously close to a boulder. Her body twitched hearing the loud crunch of the bumper. Doogan managed to reroute through the curve and continue up the mountain.
“There.” Keeyla spotted another symbol. A barkless tree trunk with hewed markings, a totem from ages past.
“Yes.” Doogan gave her a confident nod. She knew they were on the right track.
As the car scaled the incline, a blend of humidity and tacky coolness assailed them. One water splat bombed the windshield, followed by a deafening crack of thunder, then a torrential deluge.
“Believe it or not, this is just what we needed,” Doogan said. “It’ll slow the Mediators, but we’ll need to find a place out of sight or the tire ruts will lead them right to us.”
Windshield wipers swished to the steady drumming of the rain. Jagged lightning sparked the dismal heavens and another crashing boom rattled their ears. Fabal practically flew over the seat into her lap, and clamped his eyelids against the storm. She smoothed his spry curls and stared at his unblemished, suntanned skin.
Although Fabal was a child in her eyes, the new law stated that boys and girls were deemed adults subsequent to attaining the age of thirteen. It was mandatory that each adult enlist with the Controller for placement: assignments such as Mediators, specialists in maintaining peace and training youngsters for mole duty. Elites handpick citizens for apprenticeships in the Infirmary, while the lower Executives doled out assignments for farming, livestock, industrial units, and more. The notion of Fabal’s physical training as a mole sent an involuntary shiver up the nape of her skull.
Moles were used for everything from excavation of interred sewage ducts, to water spotting, as well as several diverse and often lethal procedures. Inadequate equipment hindered the mining process in the contoured burrows where small boys and girls crept through oxygen-deprived passageways, probing for fresh water springs. Fatalities were on the rise as adolescents were killed in collapsing tunnels, drowned from springs, and, lately, poisoned from the elements.
As the scraping of twigs and brambles screeched over the car’s metal exterior, Keeyla cringed and Fabal covered his ears. Doogan parked into a thicket probably in hopes of concealing their whereabouts. The cloudburst had subsided somewhat, enough for him to hustle to the trunk for more supplies.
Fabal flopped to the back seat, and kneeling, watched his father through the rear window. He began to pull tufts of shrubbery and pine boughs, and layered them over the roof. While his father was busy, stringy vines crept toward him. The vines began to twine his arms and legs and Doogan jerked and twisted.
“Why’s Dad acting so weird?” Fabal said. “Look, Mom.”
Perceiving his erratic movements, Doogan rolled and bumped against the driver’s side window. His arms jabbing the air like a fly caught in a web, trying to detach the coiling plant life. Scratched and damp, he lobbed packages of food and drinks on the front seat. Then, with a final slash at the encroaching vines, he jumped in and slammed the door, barring the vegetation.
“What the heck!” Doogan shook wet droplets from his hair. “Did you see that? The vines were trying to tie me up.”
Pent-up giggles burst from Fabal and Keeyla, alleviating their apprehension.
“You looked funny, Dad.”
“Real funny, kid,” he said with sarcasm and grinned. “Here”—pitching an apple to his son—“Eat it slow. It cost plenty.”
“Who’s dead, Dad?” Fabal whispered, his voice weak. “You said they were all dead.”
***
Before Doogan replied, the faces of his friends came to mind, and he grabbed a water bottle to loosen his tongue. The cool liquid helped relieve the convulsions in his chest. “Fabal,” he said through the lump in his throat, “I think you’re too young to know all the details.” He looked at Keeyla’s mournful eyes and quickly turned away, not wishing to disintegrate to pieces.
“Dad, I’m not a baby anymore,” Fabal declared. “I know more than you think.” He tried to sound mature, though, minutes earlier Keelya had comforted him from the thunder.
Not a single citizen had been duped into thinking Tallas was the Garden of Eden. Far from it. Life was short, and Doogan wanted his son to have a better childhood than his own. They’d practically kidnapped Fabal from an existence, which was all he’d ever known. And like it or not, the truth might one day save his life.
Doogan swerved to look at his son and shelved his arm over the car seat. “Like I said earlier, we’d been plotting this for a while. Two other families…we were to separate—lead the Mediators on a chase. Snark and Oberdick were to circle back and join us in three days time.” The lump in his throat grew and he bowed his head to hide his tears.
Squeezing his eyes, he wiped at the telltale water. “Gee Butterwood is our contact in Tallas. He was to update each family. Gee said Oberdick’s car engine died less than a hundred miles out. He’d been informed that the Mediators executed Rhynn and Daphne Oberdick on the spot, but Gee said he saw their daughter Maisry at Headquarters. Then they detected Snark’s family travelling south. Jed and Magda are presumed dead, and their boy, Elcot, is probably being punished as we speak.”
“Elcot and Maisry?” Fabal said. “I like Elcot. Maisry hardly ever talks to me, but she seemed nice. They’re not going to catch us, are they, Dad?”
His question went unanswered. Oblivious to the salty tears making their way into her mouth, Keeyla snatched Doogan’s hand and mashed it to her chest. “Doogan, I’m scared,” she cried. “You’re a physician, they need you. Surely they wouldn’t…” Her words trailed off.
“I don’t understand.” Fabal looked bewildered. “Why—why would they kill them?”
“Pomfrey Addler would condemn us to treason and thievery. A death sentence. And killing the traitors while on the run only adds to his supremacy. Addler’s way of sequestering citizens who are contemplating departure—” Doogan was hard-pressed to go on. “Addler officiates over Tallas like it’s his own personal penal colony. Citizens work for Management’s benefit.”
“Why not just let people go if they want to?” Fabal asked.
“As I said before, citizens have been shepherded out. But without adequate provisions, weapons, and manpower, no one can survive on their own.”
***
The interior of the car felt suffocating. Pearling condensation leaked down the windshield, imitating Keeyla’s tears of desperation. She rolled the window down, drawing in a breath of wet pines, then turned to Doogan. He cupped her chin and planted a calming kiss on her trembling lips, but it didn’t seem to help to ease her fears.
Doogan ruffled Fabal’s disorderly curls. “Eat,” he said, putting an end to the conversation.
Withdrawing into themselves, they silently munched on bread, cold turkey, and grapes. Doogan, with a grape pincered between his thumb and finger, stopped his hand in midair, listening. Keeyla and Fabal also heard the distant whooping. Paralyzed, their faces angled toward the car’s roof. Their isolated hideout resounded with the noise as it passed.
Eliciting sighs, the anxiety abated for a moment.
“We’re going to split up,” Doogan said, coming to an adamant decision. “I’ll take the car and lead the Mediators away, while you and Fabal keep to the plan on foot.”
“No—”Keeyla shot back. “We stay together.”
Doogan reached for her hand. Lacing her fingers with his, their gazes locked. “You know it’s the only way.”
Shaking her head from side to side, Keelya crunched her eyes.
Untangling their fingers, Doogan leaned and gently placed a palm on each of her cheeks to calm her. “We need to save Fabal. The
logical solution is deception. Keeyla, follow the map.” Her eyes opened and he monitored her expression for acceptance. “I have a copy. I’ll lose the Mediators and make my way back. It might take a while, so don’t go looking for me.”
“What if you’re caught? They might—”
“Like you said, they need me,” he interrupted. “You and Fabal must get past their radar. Fulvio knew what he was doing when he sent the map. He wants us to come to him for a reason, and it couldn’t have happened at a better time. When Management started recruiting our children, it was the last straw.” His fist tapped the steering wheel.
“Dad, I’ll go into the tunnels,” Fabal said.
He peered at his brave son, lips thinly curved. “I know you’d make a decent mole. You’re strong and smart. But right now, I need you to protect your mom.” He looked to Keeyla. Her body shook, then seemed to harden against the inevitable.
***
They’d separate and, more than likely, Doogan would be captured. She weighed the consequences in hopes of a rational outcome. Over the years, her husband had administered to Management’s arbitrary Elites, it was possible they’d spare him. Worst case scenario—which she didn’t want to think about—they’d shoot him on the spot or shackle and brutally punish him in the square.
Her first impulse was to save their child. She didn’t want to separate, though, she knew Doogan was making the ultimate sacrifice. Mustering her strength, she said, “When? When should Fabal and I go?”
“I’d like to wait until it gets dark,” he said. “But we can’t afford to wait, and you’d make swifter progress in the daylight. Make sure you find shelter before sunset. Besides dealing with the Mediators, there are wild animals you need to be aware of. And keep these handy.” He dug in the glove compartment and retrieved a revolver and a jackknife and handed them to her.
He then revved the engine and gradually reversed from their secluded hideout. Rubber tires skidded in the muck and the interwoven plant life released its rusty catch. He drove to an open patch of land. They staggered from the vehicle, dodging puddles of water, and walked to the trunk. Cramming water, food, and other indispensable items into two satchels, he turned to Keeyla and embraced her.
Tallas (The Tallas Series Book 1) Page 2