by Ilima Todd
The thought of him painting on my skin gives me an idea. I bring his lips back to mine and fumble at my side for a paintbrush, bringing it to his face and dragging a line of black across his cheek while I kiss him.
He pulls back, eyes wide. “You didn’t—”
My laughter tells him yes, I did.
He grabs for the brush, but I hide my hand behind my back. “Nice try,” I say.
Without hesitating, he dips his fingers in the red paint and reaches for my face, determined to get me back. I turn around in a flash and collapse into myself, protecting my head. His hands wrap around my waist and press into my sides, his tickling fingers trying to break my resolve while staining my clothes. It’s hard to breathe.
A vibrating shock shoots through the right side of my head. It’s not painful, but it’s so unexpected and jarring, my legs buckle, and I fall to my knees on the ground with a loud gasp.
I’m still wheezing short breaths as Kai comes to his knees behind me. “Nine, are you okay?”
“I think so.” Then the shock comes again, and my hand flies to my right ear, where the buzz originates.
“What is this?” he asks. I feel his finger, still wet with paint, at the back of my right ear.
My hand brushes over the metal stub there, touching the spot he asks about. I spin around and open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
“Is that what I think it is?” His eyes widen, and his chest rises and falls violently. He’s out of breath like I am. “Is it a tracker?”
I nod. What else can I do? “Yes, but . . .”
Kai runs out of the room. I hear the mesh door slam and Kai’s voice yelling for Miriama. I sink down the wall of my room, hoping against hope I haven’t gone and ruined things all over again.
* * *
I sit on the couch, holding Tama tight against my middle. Hemi snuggles up to my side as the rest of the family paces back and forth in front of us.
“You said she was clean,” Ara says pointedly to his wife.
“She was,” Miri barks back at him. “I guess they stopped installing ’em in their teeth. How was I supposed to know?”
Pua lifts my chin and looks in my eyes. “So it hasn’t buzzed until now?”
I shake my head and touch the tracker behind my ear. The vibrations come every thirty seconds and are barely noticeable now, but I feel like they echo with a roar in the small house every time—even though there’s nothing audible about it, even for me.
“It’s not supposed to work outside of Freedom,” I whisper. “I thought . . .”
“What if they aren’t tracking you?” Miri taps a fist against her lips. “What if it’s in some kind of self-destruct mode? A sort of fail-safe, to terminate the host and others nearby?”
I wring my hands. Both options are equally terrifying.
“Can’t we just yank it out of her and destroy it?” Kai looks at me with brows furrowed. If he keeps biting at his lower lip the way he is it will fall right off.
“It’s fused to my brain,” I say, remembering the words of the Seeker who tested it. “Taking it out would kill me.”
His eyes fall, and I look away.
I grab fistfuls of hair at the sides of my head. I’m sorry for frustrating them like this. I’m sorry for putting them in danger. I don’t want to hurt them, but I don’t know what to do either.
“There’s a gun,” I whisper.
“What?” Ara asks.
“A gun,” I say louder. “Well, it looks like a gun. It has a long plastic barrel that kind of attaches to the tracker. Pull the trigger and the tracker comes free.” The Seeker said it’s the only way to remove it without killing me.
They look at me for a moment before talking all at once.
“Too long to get it.”
“Steamship gone.”
“Can’t wait.”
“She can’t stay here.”
“Must be another way.”
I pass the baby to Pua and stand. “Everyone, just shut up.”
The family turns to me and waits.
“We can’t take it out,” I say, avoiding Kai’s gaze. “And so I can’t stay any longer. They’ll come and find you, or you’ll get hurt—either way it’ll be my fault.” My voice shakes, and I see Kai crumble into a chair at the kitchen table through the corner of my eye.
“I need to leave,” I say. “And get as far away from here as I can. Now.”
Pua slips her arm around her mother. “But they can take it out in Freedom, right?” she asks. “What if we can get her there, find a tracker-removing-gun thing, and get it out? Then bring her back home.”
Kai shakes his head and buries his face in his hands.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s escaped from Freedom. It’s possible, isn’t it?” Pua looks to Miri as though she would know the answer to that more than anyone else.
“Kai can take her,” Miriama says.
Kai stands, knocking over his chair. “No! I won’t do it.”
I let Pua wrap her arm around me as Miri walks to Kai.
Kai shakes his head over and over. “I won’t take her there, Mom.” He swipes at his face, and I hang on Pua, too weak to keep standing on my own.
“They’ll take her,” he yells, anger eclipsing the despair in his voice. “They’ll take her away from me. I can’t let that happen.”
“Kai, listen to me.” Miri puts both hands on her oldest son’s shoulders. He towers over her, but with his hunched frame and her steadfast posture, it’s as though he’s a little boy seeking comfort from his wise and protective mother. “Do you love her?”
Kai narrows his eyes at her, as though upset that anyone would question it or suggest otherwise.
“Is she the one?” she asks, her voice cracking.
“Yes,” he says, strong and sure and without hesitation.
“Then you have to do this. Take it out ourselves—she dies. Do nothing—we could all die. Take her to Freedom—and we might all have a chance.” She brushes a curl out of his face. “You don’t have any other choice.”
Kai looks at me, and his gaze is so full of emotion, I don’t think I can take it. I would die, right here, right now, for this family, if that’s what it would take to protect them. The thing that burns straight to my heart is that they would do the same for me. They are willing to sacrifice their own son to save me. I don’t deserve it, but it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world to belong to this family. Pure sacrifice. Pure love.
I throw my arms around Pua.
“You’ll take the canoe,” Ara says. “We can have it ready in an hour. You’ll need to leave then and no later.”
Hemi grabs my waist and buries his head in my side. “Don’t go, Nine.”
I collapse to the ground, unable to stand anymore. How can one body, one person, hold onto so much love and so much despair at the same time? I feel like I could melt away just by willing it.
“It’s too far for the canoe to travel.” Pua frowns.
“It’s our only option,” Ara says.
“Plus, it takes two grown men to sail that canoe,” she adds. “At least. Nine’s never even stepped foot on it before.”
“She can do it,” Kai says, strong and loud.
I lift my head to see him nodding at me. He’s brave and confident now that the decision has been made. I reach my hand out and grasp at the air, as though I can catch some of that brave and keep it for myself.
* * *
The canoe is loaded with more coconuts than I can count, fresh and preserved fruits, vegetables, and meats. Miri has filled every available container she can with water. The tiny amount of space not taken up by food or water carries a few tools, blankets, clothing, and fishing gear, including Kai’s diving spear.
“How long will it take?” I ask, my voice strained.
“Weeks.” Kai won’t look at me. I want so badly to reach for his hand, but I’m weak and don’t think I can take any kind of rejection right now. He must hate me. I’m tea
ring his family apart, and who knows when we’ll see them again. If we’ll see them again.
Miriama comes up behind us and puts an arm around our shoulders. “We need to talk,” she says. She leads us to a dry spot in the sand, and we sit while the rest of the family finishes loading and prepping the canoe.
“First off,” she says turning to me, “you need to know something about me. Something I’ve made the family keep silent about until now.”
Kai doesn’t look surprised. He watches me with swollen eyes.
“I’m not from Mahawai,” she says. “I’m not even from another rebel island.”
My eyes widen, but am I really that surprised? She’s much fairer than the rest of her family. I noticed it on the first day I arrived. Her skin is light and clear. I wonder if she arrived on a steamship. From a continent far away, maybe. With her dark brown hair, she blends easily enough with her family, and diversity among the islanders is common. Her milder accent is more proof she’s from somewhere foreign.
And then it hits me. Dark brown hair. Light, clear skin. Whenever anyone in the family has a question about Freedom, they ask Miri.
“You’re from Freedom,” I whisper.
She nods and puts her hand on my knee. “Freedom One, actually.”
“But how—?”
“I was fourteen when I escaped. I ran away one day, upset about something. I’d had a scuffle with another Batch member, but beyond that I don’t even remember why I was so upset. I ran to the concert house. The one that sits at the edge of the ocean.”
“Yes,” I say, thinking of my conversation with Theron about shells versus sails. “I know it.”
“I ran there, thinking . . . Oh, I don’t know what I thought. It just seemed so magical to me, somehow. I’d hoped it would be the perfect place to hide and be lost forever.” Miri brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “I met a woman there. When I confessed that I’d run away, she convinced me to follow her to a secret place, somewhere I really could get lost forever. Escape from my Batch. Escape Freedom. But first, she had to remove my tracker.”
Miri opens her mouth and points to a gaping hole on the left side where a tooth should have been. “It hurt like death coming out, but I figured I could get my tooth back when I was Remade, eh.” She grins but quickly grows serious as she pulls a folded paper out of her pocket. “The woman took me to a rebel camp on the other side of the harbor. I have no reason to believe it’s not still there.” Her voice is shaking as she unfolds the paper. It’s a hand-drawn map of Freedom One, complete with the concert house and harbor. Detailed instructions are written on one side. “Here, on the north side of the concert house is a bridge with a red rail over the water. When you’ve reached the third section of the bridge, there’s a section of the rail painted orange. It’s subtle, only noticeable if you’re looking, but you’ll see it.” Miri shakes her head, and her voice cracks.
Kai wraps an arm around his mother.
Miri takes a deep breath and continues. “That’s the spot where you’ll need to jump. Night is better, but go when you think you won’t be seen, whenever that chance arises. Jump and swim down. Keep going, even when you think you don’t have enough breath for the return trip up, keep diving down.” Her lips tremble. “There, at the bottom, you’ll see a light glowing around a trunk. Inside the trunk will be rebreathers. Insert one in your mouth like you would a snorkel and bite down. Inhale to breathe. There’s a round, metal door to the right of the trunk, as though it leads straight into the ocean floor. Open it, and swim down into a chamber, closing the door behind you. It will be dark, and you’ll be frightened. It was the most terrifying thing I’ve experienced, feeling trapped like that, and I was with someone who knew what she was doing. You two are going to have to trust me . . .” Miri shudders.
I hold her hand and press it against my face, thinking how brave she must have been then. As a Batcher, she wouldn’t have known how to swim. She was only fourteen and ready to trust a stranger. Ready to take on a new and scary world.
“Make sure you close the door behind you. It’s the trigger to let them know someone’s there. They’ll drain the chamber for you. Follow the tunnel until you come to a grate at the end. There’s a ladder, set into the wall leading up. Take it. When you come up, there’ll be a guard stationed there. Tell him you’re part of the Rise. Do you understand? The Rise.”
I nod. “The Rise. We’ll remember.”
Kai takes the paper from his mother and zips it into a pocket.
“They’ll be able to get your tracker out, Nine.” She reaches into another pocket and pulls out small shiny stones that glimmer in the sunlight. She opens my hand and pours them in. “This is gold,” she says. “It’s very valuable among the rebels. You can use it to barter passage on a steamship so you and Kai can come back home.”
“Thank you,” I say, closing my hand over the gold. “For everything.” My voice trembles, and Miri pulls me into an embrace.
“I love you, Nine.” She pulls back and presses her nose to mine, stroking my cheek with her thumb. “You take care of my Kai, okay?”
I nod. “I promise.”
After too short a time, and too few hugs and kisses among the family, Kai and I are standing on the edge of the canoe, drifting into the ocean while his family waves, standing in the water, soaked through.
“My necklace,” I whisper, running my fingers along my bare collarbone. I forgot the necklace Kai gave me. I close my eyes and picture it, lying on the dresser next to my shell collection. I see my bed, still unmade, with a blue cushion leaning against it. And the pale blue wall, now with a picture of me and Kai, holding hands with a promise of love and family hanging between us. I wonder if I’ll see any of those things again.
I watch his family, my family, become smaller and smaller until they are only tiny dots in the distance. I watch the island shrink until it seems a hiccup of land over the blue of ocean, and then even that disappears. I watch until dark replaces the blue of the sky, and piercing stars shine through the black. I watch until Kai pulls me into his arms, kisses my forehead, and lets me fall into his chest.
“Hold it tighter,” Kai yells at me after the boom slips from my grip for the third time.
“I’m doing my best,” I snap back at him.
“Well, it’s not good enough.”
I grit my teeth and grab the wooden boom, leaning back with all my weight to hold on to it while Kai straps it in place. I feel another gust of wind at my back and cringe, knowing it will slip again. I refuse to let go, and the sail makes a snapping sound as it tightens against the wind and pulls me along with it.
Kai curses and turns to where I am dangling over the water, trying to grip the boom with my legs and arms, desperately hoping to avoid falling into the ocean. “What do you think you’re doing?” he says, laughing at my scrambling limbs.
“I held it tighter,” I say, my fingers slipping.
Kai pulls me in with the boom and hands me the rope. “I’ll hold; you tie.”
I pull on the length of rope and secure the knot in place, collapsing when I’m done. My arms ache from working the sails these past weeks. Kai says we are halfway to Freedom, but I’m not sure how much more my muscles can take. It’s hard work, sailing this canoe. And there’s no escape from the energy-draining sun. We sleep during the day, mostly because Kai navigates easier by the stars at night. But it’s much more pleasant in the cool air too. I’m ready to collapse into sleep to escape the oncoming daylight as soon as possible.
Walking along the crossbeam that connects the two hulls of the canoe, I spy our food supply and sigh. Kai is going to have to dive soon. Tomorrow at the latest. I hate it when he does. All I can think about are the sharks that roam the waters. Kai doesn’t have the protection of the reef out here, and our attempts at net fishing haven’t proved successful yet.
I sit on my bed: a pile of clothes and blankets stuffed between our dwindling coconut supply and water jugs. Kai’s bed is on the other side of the boat, but he
sits next to me, which means he’s not ready for sleep yet.
“I’m going to stay up a little longer,” he says. “I want to make sure this wind heading holds before I fall asleep.” He sits cross-legged and I lie back, my head in his lap. “How is your head?” he asks.
“It hurts,” I say. As much as I wish I could ignore the buzzing in my head, it’s still a constant reminder of the danger we’re in. It makes me think we could be found at any moment, and Kai could get hurt and it will be my fault. It reminds me we are not free. Every vibration is a countdown to the moment we are killed, destroyed.
“Do you need a distraction?” he asks.
I know what that means. “Yes,” I say with a sigh of relief.
Kai leans over and kisses my eyes, my cheeks, my ears. He kisses my mouth upside down, which feels so good my lips tremble. He kisses my chin and jaw and neck. I don’t notice the buzzing anymore. There is only Kai.
* * *
I lean over the edge of the canoe and count. One. Two. Three. Four. I spot the fluorescent orange strip of the top of Kai’s snorkel in the distance. Too quickly, he dives back under. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. When he surfaces, I realize he’s too far.
“Kai!” I call, but he cannot hear me from this distance.
He goes under again. The sails are down, but the canoe, caught in a current, drifts away from where he dives. Kai, you’re too far.
When Kai comes up this time, he holds his spear above the surface to show me the large tuna he caught. I can tell when he realizes how far out he is by the way he immediately swims for the canoe. Come on come on come on. I bite my lip, wondering how long it takes for a predator to smell blood in the water. He reaches the canoe an eternity later and tosses the spear on board with the fish still attached. I reach for his hand, but he shouts and goes under the water.
No. No, no, no. Where is he?
His head surfaces, and his face twists in pain. “Nine—”