Among These Bones

by Amanda Luzzader

  She grinned, watching me over her eyeglasses. “We’ll have Chase take you to the truck and see what you can do. But first, there’s something we need to take care of.”

  They all looked at me. Why were they all looking at me?

  “What?” I said.

  “You got a tracker,” said Ruby.

  “My chip? What about it?”

  They kept staring at me. No one speaking.

  I put my hand to the back of my neck.

  “You mean you’re chip-rippers? No. You can’t take my chip. I won’t be able to get rations without it. They’ll think I’m a criminal.”

  Ruby sighed. “Listen Al, are you in or not?”

  I’d read something once in a book about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. About how a person’s physiological and safety needs took precedence before social needs like family and love. But at the moment, I suddenly realized I didn’t actually care about where I’d find food to eat or live or get medical care. I didn’t care that involving myself with this group would put me at odds with the Agency. I only wanted one thing—Arie. I wasn’t sure if there was any chance that he was still alive, but at that instant I’d have given up everything to find out.

  I fingered the slightly raised area of scar tissue on my neck.

  “I’m in,” I said.

  CHAPTER 13

  Around five miles from Thrill Harbor, on a remote dirt road far from any buildings, there was an old maroon Toyota Tacoma parked in the middle of the highway. It had big, off-road tires, and the back window was spangled with stickers from Moab and Yosemite and other places. The truck’s body was caked in dust and the paint was sunburned and hazy, but the tires were full and hood was shut—both signs that it might start and drive.

  “Here you go.” Chase tossed me the keys and then headed for the passenger seat.

  The suspension was lifted six or eight inches. I wasn’t even sure at first how to get in. I tried stepping up with the wrong foot, but it was too high. Then I grabbed at the steering wheel.

  Chase opened the passenger-side door, took hold of a grab handle on the door frame and hoisted himself in.

  “Need help?” Chase asked, but in a tone that made me know he wasn’t really offering.

  “No, I got it,” I said. I grabbed the handle the way he had and pulled myself up.

  Chase watched me skeptically.

  You could tell he was smart. The way he spoke, the way he figured things out. There was no good explanation why someone like him couldn’t drive a stick-shift, but there were cases of unexplained specific forgetfulness. I knew I had been a mother and probably a wife before the virus, but I couldn’t seem to remember how to make cookies or bread or cake. Had I known but forgotten with the serum, or had I never learned? I might not ever know.

  Chase was handsome, or maybe it was just that he was rugged—his hair was auburn and he looked good in a beard. Despite his roughness, there was a time when I would have wanted to get to know him better, see if there was any chemistry between us, but that part of me seemed to have died with Arie. Not that any of it would have mattered. In a little over two months, we wouldn’t remember each other, anyway.

  I pulled the door shut. There was a stale smell inside. The steering wheel felt grimy. It looked like the windshield hadn’t been wiped in years.

  “Where’d you get this? Doesn’t seem to be a lot of cars that actually work anymore.”

  “I know how to get stuff.”

  “I see.”

  “So, what’s your story? Lost your kid? How old was he?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” I said.

  “Oh. Good.”

  I shot him a frown.

  “’Cause neither do I,” he said with shrug.

  I pulled out my seatbelt and as I turned my head to find the latch, the seatbelt rubbed against the bandage on my neck where Chase had removed my Agency chip. It’d hurt more than I expected to have it removed and the skin was still tender. After they removed it, I had second thoughts about destroying it, but before I could say anything, the gang had already stomped it into a tiny pile of glassy dust.

  Chase didn’t buckle up.

  I put the key in the ignition, tightened my ponytail, and adjusted the rear-view mirror. Then I examined the instrument panel and controls—out of some reflexive impulse, I suppose. I wouldn’t really need blinkers or wipers or the radio, but I wanted to know where the knobs and levers were, nonetheless.

  When you’ve lost your memories, you can’t always trust the things you think you know because you don’t know where they came from. Had I really ever driven a car with a manual transmission? Who had taught me that skill? Someone presumably had, but there was no reason to know for sure until I gave it a try.

  “We won’t drive too far,” Chase said. “Can’t waste gas. Just enough to see what you’ve got.”

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  I stepped on the clutch and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life. It had a deep, throaty idle. Definitely a guy’s truck. So far, so good. I took the shift lever in my hand and waggled it—to ensure it was in neutral. Who had taught me that? Where had I seen it? As surely as someone had taught me to walk, someone had taught me how to put a car in gear. With a foot on the brake, I depressed the clutch and shifted into first. Then I took my foot off the break and pressed down on the gas pedal with my toe, but I released the clutch too quickly, and the truck lurched forward violently and stalled so abruptly we were launched into the seat belts.

  “Jesus,” snapped Chase. “I knew it.”

  “Hang on. I’m trying, okay? Maybe you oughta put your seatbelt on.”

  Chase rubbed his forehead. “This isn’t gonna work.”

  “Give me a chance,” I said. “Who knows how long it’s been since I drove. And it’s my first time in this truck. That I know of.”

  “We don’t have time for you to learn how to drive all over again,” he said.

  “Well then we definitely wouldn’t have time for you to learn,” I shot back.

  “Touchy.”

  “Would you shut up and let me do this?”

  Chase folded his arms and slumped in his seat.

  My hands had gone sweaty, making the large steering wheel slippery. I exhaled and turned the key again, but it wouldn’t start.

  “Now what?” said Chase.

  “I don’t know. Oh. The clutch.”

  With the clutch in, I started the truck again. I put it in gear, released the clutch, and applied the gas.

  “Come on,” I muttered.

  The truck jerked again, nearly stalling, but then it rolled ahead.

  “Yes! Yes, I did it!”

  I looked over and caught Chase rolling his eyes. He clapped his hands silently with a patronizing grin on his face.

  As the truck gained speed, the engine revved beneath the hood.

  “You need to shift,” said Chase, raising his voice over the noise. “Even I know that.”

  “I know. I know.”

  I shifted into second and we put on more speed. The packed-earth road was one of the few I’d seen that wasn’t obstructed by old cars.

  “See?” I said. “No problem.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Chase made a half-hearted effort to sit up in his seat. “I wouldn’t call it a stellar performance, but we don’t have a lot of options.”

  “I’d like to see you do better,” I said.

  “Turn here.”

  I downshifted and slowed. It was coming back to me.

  “I don’t know where you’re planning to go. Most of the roads are blocked or broken up,” I said.

  “Drive into the field.” Chase pointed. “The ground’s frozen. We’ll go this way tomorrow.”

  I steered into an old farm field grown wild with grass, and the truck squeaked and groaned as it bounced over the uneven ground.

  “So, what is this top-secret mission, anyway?” I asked.

  “Gotta pick something up.”

&nb
sp; “Pick up?” I turned to him. “You mean steal, right?”

  “Don’t sweat it,” he shrugged. “Should be pretty basic.”

  We drove around for a while, and even with Chase’s sarcastic remarks, it was kind of fun. It felt almost carefree. I even did a donut in the dirt. Then we parked the truck and walked back to Thrill Harbor. Chase set a time to meet early the next morning, offered up a terse “thank you” and “good night,” and then I biked toward home.

  The sun had almost completely set by the time I got to my house. The birds had quieted; the street was empty. I chained up my bike at the side of the house. Arie’s bike was still there—one of thousands of painful reminders I encountered throughout the day that reminded me he was gone.

  I was worn out for a change and eager to sleep. For weeks I had simply drifted in and out of a nonspecific state of feverish torpor. Writing the journals, reading them, sleeping and eating whenever. But that night I felt like I’d been productive in some new way, and I looked forward to lying down in bed for a restful night’s sleep. Or was I just eager for morning? For the first time in a long time, I had something besides notebooks and pencils to wake up for.

  I was taking off my coat by the front door when I thought I heard something in the house. I paused, but heard nothing. But as I hung my things on the coat rack, it came again—the creak of a floor, the feeling of an unseen presence. The house was dark. I looked into the living room and in the shadows I thought I could see someone sitting there.

  “Alison,” Gary said.

  As my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he rose from the couch and slipped something beneath his long wool coat. A gun?

  “My God,” he said. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Dead? Why would you think that?”

  He gave me a big hug and sighed.

  “Don’t you know I keep an eye on you? With everything that’s happened and you being on your own—there’s a lot of danger out there.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He tapped the back of his neck. “Your chip,” he said. “It’s off. I couldn’t ping you. What’s going on? What happened to you?”

  “Oh, right. That. Yes. It’s gone,” I said. “They ripped it out.”

  “Who ripped it out?” cried Gary. “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “I don’t know, Gary. I don’t know who they are. I was visiting some friends and as I was coming home someone attacked me.”

  “Good God, Alison. Are you hurt? Let me see.”

  “Was that a gun? Do you have a gun?”

  “Yes. I carry one at times. I thought something might have happened to you—had to be ready if someone came to loot your place. Now what happened here?”

  He leaned in to see my neck. I went to the kitchen to light a lantern.

  “I slapped a dressing on it,” I said. “It hurts a little. Why would someone do this, Gary? Why would they attack me?”

  “There are some individuals—outside the Zones, mostly,” he said. “They remove their own chips but steal others to get supplies. I’ll see that they’re found. Are you all right?”

  “I think so. They held me down. It was over quick and then they took off. It just stings.”

  In the harsh lamp light, Gary examined the dressing, lifted it.

  “This doesn’t look too bad. Not too much damage, anyway. Thank God.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Let’s get you down to the infirmary right away. They’ll install a new one. It happens. I’ll submit an incident report. They won’t question you that way. Your account is flagged, so as soon as someone tries to use your chip, they’re screwed.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go first thing tomorrow.”

  He frowned. “Straight in tomorrow, okay? You don’t want to get caught without your chip. It’s too risky.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

  CHAPTER 14

  It had been awhile since I’d been awake and up so early before the dawn. I couldn’t remember when, but it would have been with Arie. Sometimes when he wanted to search somewhere far from the house, we’d rise early and make breakfast in the dark. We’d pack up food and water for the day and go out and sit on our bikes to wait for enough light for riding.

  How imperceptible the moment when darkness crosses into dawn and then from dawn into day, and yet how irrefutable. You can say it’s day only when it’s no longer night.

  I found Chase already waiting for me in the dark by the Toyota. He was eating wild sunflower seeds from his pocket and spitting the husks on the ground.

  “Why so early? Won’t even be light for another hour.”

  I unlocked the doors and we got into the truck.

  “Morning’s best for this kind of thing,” said Chase. He’d kept the passenger door open so that the dim little dome light in the cab stayed on. He drew out a compact commando knife. It looked sharp—and well-used. He began to clean his thumbnail with the point.

  “Will there be, like, guards and stuff?”

  “Depends.”

  “So, you’re just never going to tell me what we’re up to,” I said.

  “Why don’t you settle down.” He spat. The husks fluttered to the floor.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” I said.

  “I said ‘settle down’,” he replied blandly.

  “Whatever. I have a right to know what I’ve gotten myself into.”

  “Well, we’re not dropping by to pick up a few cans of soup,” said Chase looking up from his thumbnail.

  “That doesn’t mean you have to treat me like an idiot.”

  “Then quit acting like one.”

  I opened my mouth to reply with some withering comment, but Chase went on.

  “If something goes really wrong and you get arrested and questioned, it’s better if you know as little as possible. If anything, it’s for your protection.”

  “Gee, thanks so much for looking out for me.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t’ve passed on that Camry.” He shook his head and spat the shells onto the floor of the cab.

  “Do you have to do that? Why don’t you spit them out the door? The one that’s open?”

  He spat some more.

  “How long are we going to sit here, then?” I asked, folding my arms. “Can you tell me that, or would it be too dangerous for me?”

  He peered up through the windshield into the dark sky. “Let’s give it ten minutes and then go.”

  “Do you have a watch?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “So.”

  “So,” I said, “what good is it to say we’ll go in ten minutes if we have no way of knowing what time it is? Why not just tell me when you want to go, and we’ll go.”

  “Just be ready,” he said.

  “I am,” I huffed.

  He squinted up through the windshield again, as though there were something in the sky only he could read. Then he sheathed the knife.

  “Let’s go now,” he said. “Start her up.”

  I exhaled my exasperation and turned the key. The engine rumbled up and idled in the cold morning. I switched on the heater. The pink glow of dawn had emerged faintly on the horizon, and now that my eyes were adjusted to the low light, I could make out the countryside around us.

  “Which way?” I said.

  “Stand by.”

  Chase fished around in his knapsack and brought out a small, two-way radio. He held it to his mouth and depressed the talk button.

  “Mountain Lion’s on the move,” he said. When he released the button, there was a burst of static and then a tiny electronic beep.

  The only response from the other radio was an answering static and the tiny beep.

  “Go,” said Chase.

  “The Mountain Lion, huh?” I laughed.

  “It’s just ‘Mountain Lion’,” he said. “No ‘the’.”

  “Right. Mountain Lion,” I said laughing. “Grr!”

  “Just go.
”

  “Tell me where,” I said, putting the truck in gear.

  “Head that way.” He pointed.

  We bounced down through the grass and down the field. I shifted into second, then third. The smaller bumps weren’t so noticeable when I drove faster.

  “There’s a road about a hundred yards past the trees. See? To the left. Get on the road and head east.”

  “Which way’s east?” I asked.

  “Toward the sun,” he sighed and pointed. “Toward the light.”

  I steered the Tacoma smoothly through the trees, but the truck’s suspension grunted and squeaked in protest as we slammed through the deep trough of a dry ditch. Chase bounced up and bonked his head on the roof of the cab. He braced himself and shot me a look. I slowed as we dipped through the barrow pit and up onto the dirt road, then I turned the truck into the coming dawn.

  When Chase finally told me we were raiding a data center, I had envisioned an immaculate, brightly lit building with glass walls and row upon row of computers, the kind with magnetic tape wheels and lots of flashing lights, but instead it was a large, mostly empty office building in middle of a sprawling business park. It lay within the boundaries of a neighboring Zone, but well away from any homes.

  I drove with Chase in the growing light until he told me to stop.

  “All right,” said Chase. “I walk from here. Keep your radio on, but don’t transmit unless you absolutely have to. If you don’t see us by noon, park the truck at the place, go home, and just lay low.”

  I knew the plan was for me to wait with the truck, but the prospect of staying there by myself hadn’t fully occurred to me until then. I wondered what I would say if an Agency goon found me—if they rolled up in one of their armored vehicles to find me without a chip, nowhere to go, and no way to defend myself. They could arrest me. They could rape me. They could do anything.

  “Could I come with?” I asked.

  “You want to? Could get dicey.”

  “I wouldn’t want to miss out.”

  “Well, it’d really be better to stick with the plan. You really want to come along?”

  “Yeah. I could probably help.” I thought about Arie and me in the neighborhoods. Watching out for each other, splitting up tasks. “Two is better than one.”