Price of a Bounty (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!)

by S. L. Wallace

  Guy stood and pulled me to my feet. “Keira, that is the wrong question. My opinion shouldn’t matter.”

  “But it does matter to me. I’ve been on my own for so long, watching out just for myself and for April, not caring about anyone else. I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

  “And you don’t have to.”

  Guy pulled me into a warm embrace. I leaned against him and felt his strength. When he pulled away, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a shiny gold pendant. It looked like a serpent in the shape of an S striking at a gold coin. It sparkled in the sun.

  “I know it can never replace the locket you lost, but I want you to know that I’m glad.”

  “About what?”

  “That I was right about you.”

  -Scott-

  No Race Can Prosper

  “No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. - Booker T. Washington.”

  “What?” April asked.

  “That quote is what started it all.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I met Rick a few months before my sixteenth birthday. He was new in town. He hadn’t realized who was who at school yet, so he crossed social lines that aren’t typically crossed.”

  “You had classes together?” April asked in surprise.

  “Of course not. He was placed in classes with the other rich kids, but I was sitting alone at lunch those days. I was busy trying to figure out my future. It’s hard to know who to sit with at lunch, especially if you’re new. Do you try to break into an established clique? Should you sit alone? Or, should you sit with someone else who looks as lonely as you?”

  “I see.”

  “‘No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. - Booker T. Washington.’ That was the first thing Rick ever said to me. He said they’d been discussing that quote in English class, and he wanted to know my opinion. At first I thought he was joking. A rich kid, asking for my opinion? I looked around to see who was watching, but no one was. No one had ever been interested in my opinion in anything before that.”

  “I’ve always been interested in your opinions,” April reminded me.

  “So you have.” I smiled. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m nervous,” she admitted.

  “There’s an envelope in the glove compartment. It contains your paperwork: a new ID, travel documents and bank account information. Memorize the address on the ID. If anyone asks for your permanent residence, that’s what you should tell them, even though it isn’t where you’ll really be staying. All correspondence will be routed through that address.”

  “Where will I be staying?”

  “When you’re not at the Art Institute, you’ll live and work with Danielle Bellami. You should follow her instructions while you’re in Parisio. She can be trusted.”

  “How will I know who can be trusted and who can’t? I’m not used to mistrusting people. That’s more Keira’s style.”

  “Just follow Danielle’s lead, and you’ll catch on in no time. I think you’re going to like her. You’re alias is Aimee Lafleur. It will be best if you use that name from now on, especially when you return home. There’s a good chance you’ll be wanted, for questioning if nothing else. Beckett’s family won’t let his death go unnoticed.”

  April looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of that either, Scott.”

  I reached for her hand. “We’ll help you through this. We all will. Just don’t turn yourself in. You wouldn’t get fair treatment.”

  “Will I ever be able to use my real name again?”

  “Only with people you’re absolutely sure you can trust.”

  April nodded and opened the glove compartment. She studied her new ID, then put the documents into a purse she’d chosen from the safe house. It complemented her outfit. She really did have a flair for both style and color. If clothing styles were any indication, she and Danielle would get along well.

  Other than her eye, April looked great, and even that didn’t look so bad. The eye drops the doctor had given her were already beginning the healing process.

  “So, what did you tell him?” April asked suddenly.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Rick…Guy…what did you tell him? Your opinion of the quote,” she reminded me.

  “Well, I think it means that everyone is necessary. As long as a person finds some way to contribute to society, it doesn’t matter which task he chooses. We’re all important. That’s what I told him.”

  “Did he agree with you?”

  “Yes, and that was the beginning of the Resistance, only we didn’t know it at the time.”

  “Scott, do you think what Keira does is necessary?”

  I was quiet for several minutes. When my thoughts circled around to what Elaine Ramsey had tried to do to Keira and then to what Lance Beckett had done to April, I knew I’d found my answer.

  “Sometimes. Yes.”

  “Oh.” April looked down at her hands. “I wonder if there’s another way.”

  “You sound like Guy.”

  “He’ll be good for her, won’t he? He’ll challenge her to think about things like that?”

  “Yes, he will. You know, I don’t think many people are capable of doing what Keira does. It makes me feel terrible though, knowing that enough bad things have happened to her to allow her to be able to do what she does on a regular basis.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  We were both quiet for a while, lost in thought.

  “April?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought…I mean, I didn’t think he would…”

  “I know. You couldn’t have. I didn’t tell anyone, didn’t let anyone know. It’s all right now, Scott. I’m safe now.” April leaned her head on my shoulder.

  She shouldn’t be comforting me! I put my life on the line to save strangers all the time, yet I’d failed to protect both of my sisters. I shook my head. April was truly amazing. In her own gentle way, she had just forgiven me.

  She was quiet for a little while, and then she spoke so softly I almost missed it.

  “Scott, do you think Keira focuses too much on their death?”

  “Who’s death?”

  “Mom’s and Dad’s. I’m just asking because, well, look how she is and look how I am.”

  “Maybe, but it’s more likely a result of her years on the streets and her personality. You two were always so different. That’s probably why you became such good friends.” I smiled at her.

  She nodded. “Probably. I don’t remember it at all.”

  “Don’t remember what?”

  “When they died. I think I’ve blocked it. I just remember snippets really, of good times with them, and then living with Aunt Cady.”

  April had been really little, just six. “What do you remember?”

  “Mama dancing with me, swinging me around in her arms and singing me to sleep at night. Daddy telling me stories and drawing pictures – I know now that they were his architectural design plans.” She smiled at me. “He would give me paper and crayons so I could work alongside him.”

  “He did that when I was little too.”

  “Sometimes they visit me in my dreams. I know they’re just memories, but I like to think of them as visits.”

  “Those are all really good memories, April.”

  “It’s not what Keira thinks about.”

  “No? Why do you say that?”

  “Because she has nightmares all the time, at least she did when we lived together. She didn’t think I knew, but she would call out in her sleep. And, she would say, ‘They shouldn’t have died like that!’”

  “Yeah, she’s said that to me too.” I looked at April. “You think she needs to talk about it?”

  She nodded. “But she never would with me.”

  “Maybe she’ll ope
n up more with Guy.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Or maybe he’ll be reason enough for the nightmares to stop.” I nodded out the window. “We’re almost there.”

  -April-

  Leaving Tkaron

  The airport consisted of a large parking area, a long silver building with a lot of windows and a number of runways that spread out into the distance. Like most citizens, I’d never flown before. Air travel was reserved for military personnel with special passes, for some business leaders hoping their counterparts in Mediterra would finally share a few of their secrets and for the Elite who had family in other realms.

  As I turned to open the door, Scott laid his hand on my arm. “Act like you own the place, and that I’ve been given the privilege of escorting you to your destination overseas. Don’t defer to me, all right?”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. Then I opened the door and stepped into the sunlight. Scott reached into the backseat for his duffel and the small suitcase I had packed at the safe house.

  The terminal towered over us. It took all my effort to not look up, and I had to mask my surprise when the automatic doors silently slid open.

  “Right this way, Miss Lafleur.”

  Scott gestured toward a row of checkin stations. He smiled at the woman behind the counter and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. I watched as he removed his ID and pass. I opened my purse and withdrew my own ID. I handed it to Scott and then glanced at my fingernails as if bored.

  “Miss?”

  I looked up at the woman. “Yes?”

  “I’ll need to see your travel visa.”

  “Oh, of course.” I dug it out of my purse and handed it to her.

  “Any baggage to check?”

  “Nope.” Scott gestured to our two bags. “We’ll take them as carry-ons.”

  After a moment, the woman handed us our tickets. Scott returned my ID, and we moved toward the queue. At the check point, a security guard used a machine to scan our bags. He also looked at our tickets and checked our names against a list. He waved another guard over and motioned for us to follow him. A third guard took his place and continued moving passengers through the check point.

  We entered a side room. A long metal table stood in the center of the room and some hard plastic red chairs lined one wall.

  “Please sit.” The guard gestured to the chairs.

  “I will not!” I was indignant. “My father will hear about this.”

  Scott continued to stand next to me, but he leaned down and whispered, loudly enough for the guards to hear, “I should have warned you Miss Lafleur. They’re just following procedure.”

  I glared at him. “Procedure? Other passengers are being allowed through the check point.”

  “And we’ll be allowed too.”

  “Let me explain Miss Lafleur,” one of the guards said. “Sgt. Maddock flies often, more often than most. We realize that it’s part of his job, but it’s also our job to make sure he’s not taking anything other than you to your destination.”

  “But he would never! He’s military.”

  The second guard continued, “Of course. This will just take a moment.”

  One guard dumped the contents of Scott’s duffel onto the shiny metal table. He checked everything thoroughly.

  “Step over here, Sergeant.”

  Scott did as he was told. He held out his arms while the guard patted him down and checked every pocket of his uniform.

  The other guard opened my suitcase. The underwear I’d packed was right on top. He hesitated and looked at me.

  “Just a moment.” He went to the door and called to a female guard.

  She entered the room and felt through my suitcase. “It’s clear.” She closed the lid and snapped it shut. I grabbed the handle and carried my own suitcase toward the door.

  Scott gently took it from me as we rejoined the crowd. He leaned down. “I’m so sorry, Miss Lafleur.”

  I nodded once and looked around. Many of the people, both men and women, were in uniform. The styles differed slightly depending upon their rank. Some men wore business suits, work related travel I guessed. And there were a few families who were obviously Elite.

  We sat facing the large windows. The airplanes glittered in the late afternoon sun.

  “Sgt. Maddock, may I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “What are your duties, as a soldier?”

  “To prepare for battle. To be ready to defend Terene at a moment’s notice. And to defend our interests overseas as well. As a member of the special operations regiment, I’m also prepared to respond to terrorist threats and other unforeseeable circumstances.”

  “And to escort young ladies to their destinations?”

  “And that.”

  “The security guard said you fly often. How often do you escort young ladies overseas?”

  “Maybe twice a year,” he admitted. “Young ladies or minors. But I also accompany my CO to the embassy in Parisio on occasion. That happens, oh, three or four times per year.”

  Soon our wait came to an end. We were seated in first class. Most of the businessmen and military personnel continued on back to another section of the plane. Scott encouraged me to take the window seat. The takeoff was exhilarating and the sunset beautiful.

  A couple of hours into the flight, the stewardess brought us dinner. It wasn’t much, but that was all right because I was too nervous to be terribly hungry. As the stars emerged, Scott explained about the time difference. He said when we arrived in Parisio, it would be morning and suggested that I try to get some sleep. I didn’t think that would be possible, but I leaned my head back against the seat and tried to relax. The next time I opened my eyes, the flight attendant moved down the aisle with her cart, offering a final round of drinks.

  “Two ginger ales,” Scott said.

  “Are we nearly there?”

  “Yes, we’ll be landing in about an hour. Aimee, I need to tell you something before we land.”

  “What is it?”

  Scott hesitated, then said, “Once we land, we’ll be contacting your parents to let them know you’ve arrived safely.” He gave me a look and shook his head.

  “Yes, of course.” What just happened?

  -Scott-

  Parisio

  I was about to tell April…I wanted to tell her, and now was probably the best time. Then I noticed the man in front of us. He tilted his head slightly as if he were interested in our conversation. My gut warned me to be careful, and I heeded the warning. I was only alive today because I had learned early on to trust my gut.

  I looked at April and warned her with a shake of my head. Were we being followed? I had to assume that we were.

  After a smooth landing, we exited the plane and entered the terminal. I located a public transceiver and placed a long distance call to my contact at the military base. A woman in uniform looked at me through the vidscreen.

  She saluted. “How may I direct your call, Sergeant?”

  “Will you please get a message to the Lafleurs? Their daughter has arrived safely in Parisio.”

  “It’s awfully late here. Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “I realize it’s late, but Mr. Lafleur is expecting this call.”

  “Yes, sir!” She saluted again.

  “Thank you, private.” I returned the salute.

  I disconnected and turned to April. She looked every bit a debutante.

  “Can we go now?” she inquired impatiently.

  “Yes, of course, Miss.”

  I picked up our luggage. After about 20 paces, I cleared my throat, and she turned around with an impatient look.

  “Is anyone using the transceiver we just left?”

  She turned back around and kept moving. “Yes, the man who was sitting in front of us on the plane.”

  It was as I’d expected. He was probably tracing the last number dialed. He would discover that I had used a legitimate military number.

&n
bsp; I led April toward the baggage terminal. We sat and pretended to wait for more luggage. When I was certain we were no longer being followed, I looked at April.

  “There’s a claim number in your purse with your other paperwork. May I have it?”

  April dug through her purse and handed it to me. I approached the message station. “Was anything delivered for Art Fantastique?” I asked, handing the young man the claim ticket.

  He scanned the small teleview in front of him. “Yes, your packages are right over here, sir.” He led us to a cart.

  I set our luggage next to the packages and pushed the cart toward the line of taxis that waited outside. April followed. A porter helped me load everything into the trunk of a cab. I tipped him, and he returned the empty cart for us. I helped April into the backseat of the cab and slid in next to her.

  She gazed out the window as we drove away from the airport. “The cars look different – smaller, cleaner, well maintained. And Scott,” she whispered, “where are the wheels?”

  “They’re hovercars,” I whispered back. “They float.”

  “Wow!”

  “Art Fantastique, s’il vous plait,” I instructed the driver.

  April stared out the window. She took in everything – the cleanliness of the streets, the hovercars and the maglev trains on either side of the highway.

  She turned and gave me a careful look. I couldn’t quite read her expression.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “We lost the war, didn’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded sadly. “They didn’t teach us that in school.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You’ve been here a lot, to Mediterra, I mean. Haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you transport people and goods.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you bring the people here because it’s better?”

  “No, that’s not the agreement, but we can talk more about that later.”

  “Have you wanted to stay?”

  “Yes. No. I have reasons to stay and reasons to go, but for now, I can do more good back home.”

  April nodded slowly and returned her attention to the streets and buildings of Parisio.