“Under,” I whisper, pulling up the bottom of the fence and urging Xoey and Sam through. We have a moment of drama when Grace wiggles out of Xoey’s uniform and goes bounding across the plain. Sam freaks out and I yell at him to keep quiet, which earns me a glare from Xoey. It’s amazing no one hears us. She manages to grab the cat and tie her back up. Sam holds her close as we tromp through knee-high brush toward the dark town of Battle Mountain.
Staying off Main Street, we hug the shadows while making our way to the center of town.
Xoey points to an old casino. “How about we go in there? Find a bathroom.”
We follow her to the door — easy to get through since it’s just a warped metal frame, no longer supporting tinted glass broken to dust on the sidewalk. It’s eerily quiet inside. We find the bathrooms and then meet up in the main game room where old slot machines and game tables gather dust. Sam hands the kitten to Xoey and mumbles something about a vending machine.
“Good luck.” I jump up on a Blackjack table, raising a cloud of dust. Xoey drops into a cracked lounge chair. “Oliver told you where we go next, right?”
“Not exactly.” She tells me about the Trinidad Ray song.
“You’re kidding.”
She shakes her head. “Apparently she’s a Resistance sympathizer.”
“Her song seems kind of…”
“Stupid?” She nods. “Maybe that’s the point. I have been going over the lyrics in my head for the last hour. I think I have some ideas, but need your help figuring out a starting place.”
“And from there?”
She shrugs. “I guess we’ll just have to follow the song.”
Sam comes back, disappointed and hungry. I check my timer. “Riley and Adam won’t be here for another hour.”
Sam sits down next to Xoey. Pretty soon, they both fall asleep.
I wait in the darkness, thinking about the Bell. Thinking about Riley.
We hear them coming, the truck tires breaking the silence of night as they rattle along Main Street. I’m so thankful, I swear, I almost tear up. By the time we get outside, they have already moved on, forcing us to backtrack through town to find them. My heart does this weird little leap when I see Riley in the back of the truck. She has one hand on the Liberty Bell’s crate, like she’s going to protect it with her life.
Then I find out that’s just what Adam has done.
We don’t discuss logistics for long. After Adam collapses, Sam and I pick him up and lay him in the back of the truck. I wish I had been smart enough to bring the moving blanket from the train.
Sam climbs in the truck bed next and sits with his back against the crate while Riley grabs the first aid kit from the cab.
“I’m staying with Adam,” she says.
I nod and climb in the truck cab with Xoey. It takes a few tries to start the engine. I hope it’s not going to be a problem later. “Here we go.” I ease out onto Main Street and head back toward the highway.
As soon as Battle Mountain is behind us, I turn to Xoey. “So now’s the part where you sing to me, right?”
“Hardly.” She draws her knees up to her chin and stares through the windshield. Except for her dress and short curly hair, she looks just like she did on the bus when we met last year.
“So how’s this going to work?”
“As near as I can tell, the first verse is just an introduction — mountains, rivers — everything is vague. But in the second verse, she sings: ‘Eighty sparks, sparks the night sky, the desert makes me high, high.’”
“Okay…”
“Maybe it is just a starting place.” She wrinkles her nose. “You and Riley liked to study those old maps in the Hidden Library, right? Does anything click?”
I think for a minute. “There was an old road — Highway Eighty. I think it ran through a city called Sparks.”
“Wow! Okay, that makes sense. But isn’t it west of here?”
“Probably. And we’re not heading back toward the Sand. As soon as we get in range of those cell towers, our com links will light up and we’re as good as captured.”
“What about the ‘desert high’ part?” she asks. “From Sparks, maybe we are supposed to head to the high desert. Like where we are now.”
I laugh. “Yeah, and it’s huge. We could go in any number of directions for hundreds of miles and still be in high desert. Whose idea was it to put the code in a song, anyway?”
“If it was specific, anyone could figure it out.”
“You think some random person in the Sand is going to think, ‘Oh, you know that catchy Trinidad Ray song? It’s a secret code!’?”
“So you’ve never heard of conspiracy theories?”
“Sure. Unbelievable ones.”
“That’s why it works. It is unbelievable.”
“Okay, fine. So we’re already in the high desert. Where to next?”
“Okay. In the next stanza she talks about getting older. ‘Forty-five years old, old. Half hot, half cold, cold.”
“Seriously?”
She laughs. “I just sang it a couple of hours ago. Were you listening at all?”
“No. Tell me again.”
She repeats the lyrics.
“I don’t know. I don’t have the entire highway system memorized, but it doesn’t match any routes I remember.”
“What other kind of number could it be?”
We think silently for several minutes.
“Maybe temperature?”
“Temperature changes.”
“Okay — another place. A city with a number for a name.”
“I’ve never heard of one.”
“Do you know the numbers of the old states?”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard Alaska and Hawaii were the last two states in the old union — forty-nine and fifty.”
“So, what was forty-five?”
Neither of us know. We sit in silence for several minutes longer, then Xoey sits up straight. “What about longitude? Or latitude?”
“Hmm. Well, the forty-fifth parallel would be north of here somewhere. Oh! And it’s halfway between the equator and the North Pole.”
“Half hot, half cold?”
I shrug. “Sounds like it could work.”
“Do you know how long it will take to get there?”
“No idea. I don’t know anything about the roads, what condition they are in, who or what might be in our way, even how to know when we’re there…”
“This is crazy,” Xoey says. “And Adam needs help soon. What if—”
“Hey,” I say. “Have a little faith.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’ll pray if you will.”
“Deal.”
We drive for six hours through darkness, sometimes on cracked highways overrun with weeds and debris, sometimes on tiny roads scattered with gravel. Clearly no one travels out here anymore. Several times we have to get out and move UDR road blocks. Even more often we veer off the road to hide from drones.
Xoey and I work out our path together, guided by any lyrics matching rusting signs or overgrown landmarks. I hope it’s working — that no coincidences lead us off in the wrong direction. I don’t know how Adam’s doing in the back, but I keep my promise and pray repeatedly.
Just a few minutes after dawn we cross a creek called Seven Mines. We’re hoping it coincides with lyrics about diamonds on seven fingers. Ten minutes later, the road disappears in front of us, forcing us to stop.
Xoey peers over the dashboard. “Is it a sink hole?”
“I don’t know. I’ll check it out.” I reach for the door handle then stop, my heart in my throat as men in threadbare camouflage emerge from the bush and surround us with guns trained on the truck. I raise my hands. Xoey does the same.
“Out. Slowly,” one of them says. He opens my door and I step out, keeping my hands visible. The guy is huge and as serious as a heart attack. A smaller man escorts Xoey around the front of the truck to stand next to me. I examine their unifor
ms, but see nothing to suggest they are UDR. Could they be the Resistance?
“Who are you?”
“Reed Paine, sir.” I hope these guys are friendlier than they appear. I take a chance. “This is Xoey Stone. Lieutenant Oliver Penn sent us. We just escaped from Windmill Bay.”
“Captain.” A woman not much older than me steps toward the big guy and says something too low for me to understand.
The captain keeps his gun on me, but his eyes narrow. “Just the two of you?”
“No, sir. We have three friends in the back. No one’s armed. One is injured.”
“Injured? How?”
“Gunshot wound,” says Xoey. “During the escape.”
“Let’s have a look.”
We walk around to the back of the truck. Captain Huge points at the latch with his gun, so I push up the door. Adam is lying near the edge, his head in Riley’s lap. She blinks into the morning light, but he doesn’t move. My heart turns over.
“Is he…?”
“He’s still alive but he needs help.” Riley’s voice is high pitched and desperate. “Soon.”
The captain gives another soldier a few terse commands, sending him off into the forest. All the while his eyes are fixed on the big yellow crate in the middle of the truck bed. “What’s in there?”
For the first time, I smile, letting myself feel the thrill of this moment. “If you’ll let Sam unlock it, I would love to see that for myself.”
The captain nods, but he’s not stupid. He and his team take several steps back. If anything dangerous was inside the crate, he wants to make sure it hurts us before it hurts them.
“Go ahead, son.”
Sam turns to me. I nod, trying to ignore the way my heart skips a beat.
I’m about to see the Liberty Bell.
“You seem nervous,” the captain says.
“Excited,” I answer.
The case beeps and the locks unclick. Sam pulls on a handle and the front swings open like a cabinet door. I feel tears sting my eyes and — I swear — the sun breaks through the trees, shining just right to light up the famous crack.
The captain lowers his gun. “Is that the…?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s the Liberty Bell. We stole it.”
Medics attend to Adam, hooking up an IV and blood bag right on the truck bed while everyone else takes turns gawking at the Liberty Bell. A flurry of activity follows. Medics continue to treat Adam. Someone brings us food — even something for the cat — and fresh clothes. Xoey and Riley are happy to get out of their dresses. Captain Huge, whose real name is Captain Strong — I swear — tells us we have reached little more than a Resistance outpost where a small division relays communications, runs perimeter patrols, and watches for refugees.
“People like you who followed clues or coordinates.”
He steps aside as another soldier approaches, holding a tablet which makes even our tablets at Windmill Bay seem modern by comparison.
“Before we do anything else, we need to decommission your nanochips,” she says.
“Decommission?”
“Don’t worry. Your private data stays intact. We just have codes to scramble your location detectors.”
“Cool,” says Sam.
“Let’s start with you then. Sam, is it? What’s your full name?”
“Samuel Hayward.”
She lowers her tablet. “Sam Hayward? Jasmine’s son?”
There’s another flurry of activity while everyone takes turns gawking at Sam.
Two more hours pass while we wait for someone higher up to approve us for travel. There’s a discussion about the Bell — whether to take it with us or leave it here. One guy says it’s too risky to get back on the road in the same truck. “They’ll be searching for it.” Problem is, they have no equipment able to move it to another truck.
“I’m not going anywhere without the Bell,” I say.
I guess the captain believes me, because he orders a few soldiers to scrape the faded Red Cross logo off the side. “It will have to do,” he says.
When the time comes to go, we all climb back inside the truck, even a nurse who will travel with Adam.
Riley stays close, asking the nurse dozens of questions, ending with, “How far do we have to go?”
“Not far,” he tells her. “Just another couple of hours.”
The idea of two more hours on bumpy forest roads doesn’t appeal to me at all. But since I fall asleep just minutes after we pull out, it passes in an instant. I wake with a start when I hear voices outside. The truck jerks to a stop, and two armed guards push up the door. We are questioned again and asked to open the crate. When Sam enters the codes and swings open the cover, they both gasp. The older one reaches out and touches the Bell with a trembling hand.
“My grandmother lived in Philadelphia as a kid,” he says. “She told me about the terror attacks — the people who demanded it be removed because it has scripture engraved on its side. She cried when they took it down.”
When they climb out again, they are both smiling.
“Thank you,” the older one says. There are tears on his face. “Thank you so much.”
He doesn’t bother closing the door this time, but taps on the side of the truck and yells to someone on the road ahead of us. “Good to go!”
We travel several meters along a forest road, then through a camouflaged gate someone closes behind us. The truck turns and stops again. Yet another soldier greets us, identifying himself as Private Richard and eyeing the crate with unconcealed curiosity while more medics help the nurse transfer Adam to a nearby tent.
Private Richard says nothing, but motions us out of the truck next. I help Xoey and Riley down. Sam follows, still cradling his kitten. Before he’s even reached the ground, a woman runs toward us. I’ve seen her face a hundred times, but I hardly recognize her — that’s how different Jasmine Rush looks after years away from Hollywood.
“Sam?” She stops when she reaches him. She touches his face. He doesn’t flinch.
“Mom?”
She laughs through her tears and pulls him into her arms.
“This way,” says Private Richard.
As we circle the truck, I get a full view of the compound, stopping short when I see what’s right in the middle. Riley gasps. Someone else approaches, but I can’t take my eyes off it — the Stars and Stripes flying overhead.
“Reed Paine?” The white haired officer reaches out and shakes my hand. “Welcome to America.”
We spend three days being questioned in the underground bunker below the small piece of land the Resistance calls sovereign American soil. They don’t call themselves the Resistance either.
“We prefer Americans,” General Kelly tells me.
We’ve each told them our story — Xoey, Riley, Me. Even Adam, who has been stitched up and is going to be just fine. In turn, the people here are telling us theirs. Piece by piece, we learn about the freedom they seek and the sacrifices they make to secure it. Sam is getting to know his mom again, and I have had a single communication from mine, passed verbally over hundreds of miles from where she is hiding.
I am safe and I love you, she said. I hope to see you soon.
I repeat these words to myself every night, just before I fall asleep. I don’t know if they will come true, though. General Kelly tells us we are free here — free to stay and help or free to go and follow our own paths. I think he knows we all have unsettled business out there.
“You’re not quite adults,” he says. “But I reckon you’ve earned the right to make your own decisions.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“If you’re willing, though, to leave the Liberty Bell in our custody, I promise we’ll keep it safe.”
“I know you will.”
The media tried to keep our escape from Windmill Bay hushed up — including the theft of the Liberty Bell — but it didn’t work. News traveled quickly on the dark net, then someone hacked the State Press, broadcasting the truth
about the Bell from Sand to Sand. There have been reports of civil disobedience, as General Kelly calls it. American flags popping up in unlikely places, citizens taking to the streets to cry out for liberty.
“It’s not much, yet,” he says. “But it’s something. Something you and your friends started.”
I’m getting use to the confines of the bunker, but Xoey still struggles. I find her outside a lot, staring at the night sky, shifting from foot to foot in a restless way so similar to Oliver, I know he’s never far from her thoughts.
Tonight I stand at her side, staring up at the stars. Before long, Riley and Adam join us. Sam follows. He doesn’t stray often from his mother’s side, but he’s already tinkering with tablets and offering advice on security hacks. Eventually, I’ll ask more about Jasmine’s story — how the Resistance got involved and how she enlisted my parents’ help in rescuing Sam. Hundreds of kids are still stuck inside the House. Two in particular I’m thinking about tonight.
“I’m going back for them.” Xoey points her chin toward the sky. “I’m not sure how or when, but it’s what I am going to do.”
She doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t ask, but I know she’s asking all the same.
“I’m in,” says Adam.
“Me too,” Sam says.
I turn to him in surprise. Something’s changed, I realize. In the past few days, Sam has become a man. I wonder if the same thing has happened to me.
Riley crosses her arms over her chest and takes a deep breath. “I can’t help you this time.” When she meets Xoey’s gaze, her eyes are red and wet. “Everything Oliver and Paisley did for us — I should be there, but I can’t. I have to track down my sister now, while I know where she is. If I wait…”
Xoey nods. “I understand, Riley. By then, it might be too late.”
Riley shifts against her and the two girls hug, crying on each other’s shoulders. We all now know about a service ranch known as The Rose — a place Kino mentioned in connection with Lexie. The only lead Riley has ever gotten to find her.
Stealing Liberty Page 32