“No, of course not, but...” I paused, searching for the right words to say. “What if Portland needs me?” I asked.
“What if every place needs you?” Kel answered.
Saretha was shaking her head. “I don’t ever want to go back,” she said, pressing her hands down on her legs. “And I still have followers there.” Kiely and I both turned to look at her in astonishment. Was she really still thinking about followers? Can you even have followers without a Cuff? I didn’t ask aloud—it would only hurt her feelings.
Can you have followers after the world has been destroyed?
Kel pulled out a Pad. “I wish I’d had time to plan with you and get you a Pad and a map before you had to flee,” she said. “Though, I will admit, I would never have sent you to Crab Creek. I don’t know what you’re facing there.” Her expression turned fierce. “You have to promise me you will abandon this plan if it looks too dangerous.”
I wouldn’t make that promise. She knew it.
“Your parents might not even be there. Lucretia Rog could have—”
“No,” I said. “She’d have played that card when she had me.” I didn’t know if I would have been able to withstand watching her torture my parents.
Kel sighed and tapped a few commands into the Pad. A map of our area popped up, outlining the route to Crab Creek. Kel handed it to me with a serious look.
“Security will be heavy at Crab Creek, even if they haven’t clued in to the fact that your parents are there. Use the van as camouflage. Be patient. Figure out exactly where your parents are being kept, and how, before you do anything. Then come up with a plan. Use your Placer skills. Quiet. Careful. If the alarm is raised, it’s all over.”
A weight settled in my chest. Sera’s mother was there, too. Hundreds of people were trapped. Was I supposed to leave them all behind?
Kel saw the thoughts behind my eyes. “You have enough people to look after,” she said, looking at the group around Kiely. “You can’t save everyone down there.”
“This is an awful pep talk,” I told her.
Kel flashed a bright smile, but it was also a little sad, like she was sorry that we wouldn’t have time to talk now that I was speaking. “You have to get away,” she said.
“To Téjico?” I asked, feeling dread about a place I knew so little about. I had to push what I’d seen in movies aside. Had they wanted us to fear it? They had fed us so many lies. Why would this be any different?
I wanted to ask more, but there wasn’t time. Dropters and worse would be crisscrossing the area soon, looking for the ones we’d downed.
“Find your parents and go,” Kel insisted. “Let yourself be happy.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I laughed. I didn’t know how. I could hear Sam’s voice in me as I kneaded at my brow with my fingers. I was leaving too much behind. Sera, Nancee, Penepoli and Mandett—would I ever see them again?
“What if our parents want to go back to Portland?” I asked, knowing that was a terrible choice, but feeling the pull of it all the same. Our whole life had been there. Was it foolish to feel even a moment’s homesickness for the small plastic room that I’d hated my whole life?
“They won’t,” Kel said, shaking her head. “If you can be a family again, let that be your victory.”
“Every choice feels wrong,” I said. “Sera—”
“It would be worse for you all to be caught,” Kel cut in. “That’s all that waits in DC.”
The group behind her broke up and started heading for the van. Kiely scanned the area, watching for any sign of dropters. Kel took a step up and wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back, something I hadn’t been able to do before. I wondered what it would have been like if we’d had more time. I’d never had the chance to let her know the real me.
The Breaking Goodbye: $38.97
Kiely said there was no time for goodbyes, but they happened, anyway. As we left, even she and Kel took a minute with each other. Kel seemed like a different person in that moment. She and Kiely clasped hands, looking into each other’s eyes. Kel seemed younger, and Kiely less severe. It was only a second or two before they both climbed into the OiO™ van and headed off into the night. I hoped, someday, I would see them again.
I peeked back as the last curve of DC’s dome vanished behind us.
The fruit van we were in was open from the cab to the back. There was plenty of room, but it wasn’t very comfortable. Margot and Mira sat silently on one side of the floor, with Norflo across from them.
The van seemed cavernous without Henri and Sera. “Do you want to sing?” I asked Mira. I needed a distraction.
“Why?” Mira asked, her voice very small.
I shrugged. The muscles in my back were taut and aching, and we’d barely started our journey. I turned the shrug into a shoulder roll to loosen them.
“Norflo,” I said, suddenly remembering. “Kiely showed me a history of my family. You were right about Jiménez.”
His bright enthusiasm had dimmed while I’d been held prisoner. Who could blame him? Still, he looked up and gave me a pleasant smile in the rearview mirror.
Saretha exhaled loudly and shook her head. “Our parents never said anything about it.”
“Lots don’t. Mine spent a lotta time back in the FiDos talking names and history.”
“But yours is spelled wrong,” Saretha said.
Norflo laughed. “How can you hear how I spell it?”
“Your brother told me,” Saretha said, leaning back in her seat and adjusting her legs with a little groan.
Norflo sighed. “True. Couldn’t afford Juarez—they spiked the price on Latin names long back. Like, crazy expenses. But Juarze counts.”
“I can’t hear the difference,” I offered.
“War Rez,” Saretha said loudly. “Not Warz.”
Why was she being so difficult about this?
“Anyways,” Norflo said, “my dad and his dad let us know all the names got changed. Said to ’member them. Jime from Jiménez. Gark from Garcia. Gonz from Gonzales, Tide™ from Fernández.”
Saretha clicked her tongue. “How do you get Tide™ from Fernández?”
“Corporate sponsorship,” Norflo said. “Didn’t name me Norflo after the nasal spray ’cause they wanted to. Offset the cost of holding that Juarez surname.”
“Except you didn’t,” Saretha needled at him. “You had to change it to Juarze.”
“Me? Nah,” Norflo said. “’Twas long ’fore me. Juarze still counts, tho. Still pricey, too.”
“Your brother Wuane acted like this was so important. So what if the names got too expensive?” Saretha said like she was bored. “You change it to what you can afford. What’s the big deal?”
“That’s Harris talking,” Norflo said.
“They do it to break us apart,” I answered. “They don’t want us to know anything outside of what we owe. They hold back our words so we can’t connect to each other or our past—” a chill ran down my spine, thinking of Beecher’s lost hope “—or our future.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Saretha complained.
“I do,” Margot said. In the mirror, I saw that she was no longer looking down, but staring off into space.
Mira grabbed her arm and shook it. “What?” she whispered. “What?” Margot wasn’t going to answer. She was thinking of Henri, but she put her arm around her sister and pulled her in tight.
Saretha scoffed. I didn’t want to be angry with her. We hadn’t been able to talk for so long, but the things she was saying made my jaw tighten. “Saretha, can’t you see what it did to us?”
Saretha’s face crinkled. We bumped up onto a new road that Kel had marked for us on the Pad. A red line threaded across a green landscape on the screen.
“The thing that split our family apart was you going silent,” Saretha sna
pped.
The lack of compassion in her voice troubled me. Her mood had darkened since we’d left the clearing, and I wondered if the drive was making her pain worse.
“No, Saretha,” I said, keeping my emotions in check. “They took our parents long before that.”
“But...” she started.
“Think of what they did to make Beecher so desperate. Think how they destroyed him.”
“He was funny,” Norflo said. “’Fore his Last Day gutted him.”
“Henri was funny,” Margot said. Mira nodded.
I felt a lump in my throat. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” I said.
Margot’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. There was a hard look on her face. I knew it was the sort of thing I should ignore—that was polite, and she was hurting. But I’d stayed silent about so many things.
“Are you still mad for what I did to get Henri’s device?” I asked. She didn’t answer.
I glanced back at her over my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I apologized to him back in Keene. It was an awful thing I did. It wasn’t fair to trick him like I did—that’s what the Rogs do.”
“What upset me most was not that you tricked Henri into thinking you liked him,” Margot admitted. “It upset me more that he liked you back.” I started to protest, but she raised her voice. “He was in awe of you,” she said. “Even before you ever met.”
“He was in awe of what the Silent Girl had done,” I replied. “But he was in love with you.”
Margot was quiet for a moment. A tear slid down her cheek. “Knowing that only makes losing him harder.”
Mira hugged her around the middle and squeezed. I opened my mouth to apologize again, but Margot suddenly snapped to attention. She raced to the van’s rear window, steadying herself against the uneven bumping on the ancient, pitted roads.
“There is something back there,” she said.
I checked my side mirrors, my rearview, even quickly turned my head, but I couldn’t see anything. Norflo hurried to Margot’s side, which meant I couldn’t see out the back at all.
“What is it?” I yelled.
“One of those small dropters,” she called back.
I tried again to see it. Nothing. It was too small for me to see from where I sat. This wasn’t good. “Just one?”
“I think so,” Margot said, her head whipping from side to side as she tracked its progress.
My instinct was to panic and floor it, but I doubted the fruit van could outrun a dropter. I forced myself to stay calm. If we’d hit a WiFi bubble, it might be broadcasting a live feed. While I could hope we weren’t visible inside the van, it was safer to assume the worst.
I took the next turn, spiraling off an exit calmly.
“What are you doing?” Saretha asked, watching us depart from the path on the Pad’s screen.
“Throwing them off the trail,” I said. I held firm. I didn’t speed up. The van was silent around me.
“On the count of three, I want you to open the back doors,” I said after a mile or so. “Everyone hold on. I’m going to slam on the brakes.”
“What?” Saretha asked.
“Do it!” Margot yelled. She understood. Norflo gripped the wall.
“One,” I called out.
“Margot?” Mira asked.
“Two.”
“Hold on to Saretha’s seat,” Margot said with a flick of her hand.
“Three!”
Margot slammed her door open. The van suddenly filled with a rush of air. Norflo fumbled and got his door open, too. The pavement rushed by, and I finally spotted the dropter as it hovered and bobbed, matching our speed.
I jammed on the brakes. Margot yanked her door shut and held on, but Norflo went flying, smashing into my seat.
The dropter whizzed to the front of the van, turned on me with a big glassy lens and zipped away. Margot slammed Norflo’s door shut just in time to stop its escape. The dropter’s motors whined. Mira leaped up to grab it, clapping her hands together.
“First try!” she said, catching it.
“No!” Margot called out.
A thin, electric crack sounded, and Mira screamed. Her arms flew apart. The dropter hit the roof, its motors flaring, buzzing around like a trapped, angry hornet. Margot burst into a karate kick, her foot connecting with the small machine. The dropter smashed into the other wall and fell. Margot stomped on it, then rushed back to Mira.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Mira sniffed. Her upturned palms were bright red.
“This is nothing,” Margot assured her at once, though she was visibly upset. “See what we have in the kit for burns,” she said with forced calm to Norflo. Norflo instantly obeyed, rifling through Margot’s Placer bag.
Saretha looked on, her mouth hanging open. She pressed on my arm, like I hadn’t seen any of it. Like I wasn’t paying attention. Like I didn’t need to drive.
“We should assume that whoever sent the dropter has seen us,” I said, looking back. I turned the van around. “I doubt they were fooled by my exit, but we can hope.”
“We can hope,” Margot replied mechanically.
Norflo found a sealed package of Banded® Advanced Bialoe™ cream and quickly handed it to Margot. She tore it open and squeezed it into Mira’s hands and had her rub them together. Relief showed instantly on Mira’s face.
“Nextime,” Norflo said, rubbing his head where he had banged it, “hope your tactic isn’t sudden brakes.”
I sorely wanted to tap the brakes right then, just to be funny. Norflo would have laughed, but this wasn’t a time to be mischievous. We had to get back on the path to Crab Creek. Maybe then I could make a joke, or take a rest or let my mind wander from the list of what I had to do. Once we arrived, my parents could figure out what came next.
But until then, it was up to me. I pressed a little harder on the gas and forced myself to believe that soon, things would be better.
Crab Creek: $39.99
Our route took us on a new road. The van hummed quietly when we hit the vast black pavement. Sponsorship signs lit up to let us know we were in Agropollination™ territory. This was different than what we had encountered before. This outdoor space wasn’t abandoned—it was owned.
“Should I be proud of Carol Amanda Harving?” Saretha asked. I guess it made sense to have something to talk about.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I tried to make my voice sound curious, but somehow my agitation must have gotten through because I could feel Saretha bristle.
“I mean, since she wasn’t real—since she was actually me, it’s like I’ve been in a lot of movies.”
Norflo nodded like this made sense to him. “Sure,” he said.
“But you were not the actress,” Mira said.
Saretha started to list the films. “Phat Dash. Truly, Lovely, Danger. Name of the Sparrow. Girl ReBranded. What was the one where she gets sued because she’s sick?”
“Autumn’s Trial?” I asked, a little disgusted. “That was her first movie. It wasn’t a big role. She dies in the first twenty minutes and you’re supposed to be glad because the movie makes it seem like it was her fault for not having the money for the cure.”
“No. It was her fault,” Saretha said. “She ignored the Terms of Service.”
Sera and my sister probably would have gotten along well back in Portland.
“She had cancer,” I said.
“They show her using the food printer wrong. She tampered with the inks. That’s why she got the cancer.”
“Propaganda,” Norflo commented.
“Her character still didn’t deserve to die,” I insisted.
“She got an award for that,” Saretha continued. “That should be my award.”
“You should message them,” I offer
ed.
“Don’t be a brat,” Saretha snapped.
“But who acted it?” Mira asked.
“No one,” Margot explained.
“Wonder who sponsored that flick?” Norflo muttered.
“Mandolin...” Saretha stopped, realizing Norflo was being sarcastic.
Outside, the scrub grass was gone, replaced with lush greens. A new dome loomed as we came over the rise of a hill. This dome was small compared to the others I had seen, just large enough for a dozen buildings a few stories tall. Another of these smaller domes was a little farther off, and opposite both were fields.
“I hated her a lot, you know,” Saretha said after a moment.
“I did, too,” I said in a rush. “It felt so wrong that she got everything and you were supposed to be nothing. When I found her apartment, before I knew she was a fake, I seriously thought about hurting her.”
This made Saretha smile.
Long rows of green plants extended into the distance, water spraying out in geyser fans between them. I didn’t know what kind of crop I was looking at. It was odd and bulbous. We didn’t get a lot of produce in the Onzième, and I’d never seen whatever this was.
“And then it turns out she’s me,” Saretha said, her tone growing darker. She’d once pinned her dreams on meeting Carol Amanda Harving, only to be betrayed by her idol, locked away, then betrayed again when the actress turned out to be a digital shadow.
“She was never you,” I said. “She looked like you. You’re more than that.”
Saretha lolled her head over at me—a sign of real irritation.
“Speth. I’m your big sister. It isn’t the other way around. I’ve been giving you advice since you were little.”
My jaw tightened. I’d been doing everything I could to take care of our family from the moment Saretha was locked in our apartment. But she wanted the role of big sister. If that made me bristle, maybe I had to suffer a bit to make her happy.
Soon we began passing rows and rows of trees. These were easy to identify by the peaches hanging off them, unripe and green as they were. Thinly netted mesh fences bracketed them for protection or, from the look of it, to keep them warm. Farther on were more greens, viny ones with thick bunched yellow flowers.
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