by Russ Colson
“I’m sorry,” I say, letting go of the door and hugging him. Elyon wraps his arms around me and a moment later I feel Matty’s arms around both of us. We stand there a moment before I tug free and yank open the door.
Darkness gapes up at us and the last thing I want to do is climb down the stairs, but I do. Matty hesitates a moment at the top of the stairs. He puts on a brave face most of the time, and there really isn’t much that scares him, but he hates the dark more than anyone I know. When I hear the crunch of his footsteps on the stairs, I stop a moment, waiting for him and Elyon to catch up. We pull one side of the door closed above us, leaving the other open to let the pale moonlight guide us down.
The basement is a mess of old cardboard boxes, gurneys, beer cans, and other junk. Between the still-open door and a few narrow windows, there’s enough light to navigate through, but I still don’t know where we are going. With no other way to go, we walk away from the stairs. The basement door shuts with a clatter and we huddle together, peering into the darkness for any sign of who closed it.
“Who are you?” a deep voice asks from the darkness. I strain my eyes in the direction of the voice, but it’s coming from the darkness under the stairs. My heart hammers in my chest and I feel Matty’s fingers digging tightly into my arm.
“We’re, uh, Nate and Elyon and Matty,” I say, voice shaking only a little.
“Elyon Copra?”
“Yes.” Elyon’s voice is even.
A moment later a man steps out from under the stairs. He’s tall and thick-chested and I fight the urge to run as he walks toward us. “Glad to see you made it out,” he says. “Where are your parents?”
There is a long moment of silence before I answer. “I don’t think they’re coming.”
In the half-light of the basement, the man’s grim face softens a moment as he looks at Elyon. He nods and turns away. “Follow me.”
We follow him across the basement to a brick wall. To my surprise he pushes a brick and it pops up like a handle. He grips it and hauls a section of the wall open, allowing light to flood out. We hurry inside. The room is a thirty-by-thirty foot square with a dozen people standing or sitting on folding chairs.
“Nate?”
I stop, too surprised to react to the sight of Dad standing up and coming toward me. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and looks like he hasn’t been sleeping that well either. When he reaches us, he pulls all three of us into a hug and I hold tight to him, breathing in his familiar scent.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, finally pulling back just as the man closes the wall behind us. “And where are we?”
“I came back this evening when we heard the troops were headed this way. Mitch brought me.” He nods to a tall man in dark jeans and a plaid shirt. “He’s been coordinating with people up here for the last few weeks.” I look around, noticing Sheriff Wicks and a few other people I recognize. The rest are strangers. “This is an old bomb shelter that was built into the hospital. Ed Lawson knew about it.”
“We told the Copras and the other robots in town about this place,” Ed Lawson says. He owns the local hardware store. “We’d hoped to have more warning when the troops arrived. We thought we could help more of them escape.”
“Did anyone else get away?” Elyon asks softly.
“From what’s come over the radio, I figure some other robots got out. We’ve been hearing warnings out for runners. Word just came that there’s a thirteen-year-old runner near Falls Street.” Wicks smiles. “Good to see you, son.” He claps Elyon on the back.
“Plenty of folks have been leaving in the last few weeks as well,” Dad says. “Wicks and the others have been helping get them up to Canada. It’s smooth sailing for the most part.”
“The trouble now is going to be getting you out of town,” Wicks says, considering it.
“I’m not leaving.” Elyon shakes his head. “I’ve been here my whole life.”
“I understand that,” Wicks says. “But it’s not safe here anymore. It’s a wonder you got out of your house alive tonight and we have to get you out of town.”
Elyon looks as close to tears as I’ve ever seen any robot. I put an arm across his shoulders. “Don’t worry,” I say. “We’ll make sure you’re okay.”
“Your parents were planning for this,” Dad says. “I know your dad was saving up cash to pay your way through. We’ll come up with some way to get the money.”
Silently, I pull the money from my pocket, nudging Matty to do the same. A moment later, Elyon pulls the rest from his pocket. Wicks lets out a low whistle.
“That should be more than enough,” Wicks says.
“I don’t care.” Elyon shoves the money at my dad. “How do we get out of here?”
When the plan is finally set, everyone is happy with it but Matty.
“I want to come with you,” Matty says.
“We need someone here to lead them away,” Wicks says.
“And your parents will be worried about you,” Dad adds. “You’re helping Elyon just as much as Nate is.”
“I guess.” Matty shrugs. “What do I do if the soldiers catch me?”
“Don’t resist,” Mitch says. He’s leaning against the only table in the room, arms crossed over his chest. “Once they scan you, they’ll see you’re human. Just say you were running away because you were mad at your parents. Doesn’t matter much what you tell the soldiers, they won’t care once they see you aren’t a robot. We just need them distracted so we can make it out of town.”
With Matty on board, Wicks leaves to get extra sheriff's uniforms for Dad and Mitch. Matty, Elyon, and I sit on the cement floor apart from the others. My heart hammers in my chest as I think about what we’re about to do and there’s about a million things I want to say, but I can’t figure out where to start. Finally, Elyon breaks the silence.
“Thanks.”
“Of course,” Matty says.
“I couldn’t ask for better friends than you guys,” Elyon says. “I don’t know who else would do all this for me.”
“You’d do the same for us,” I say. Elyon nods and we’re quiet again. I can’t help thinking that this will be the last time I ever see Elyon. It’s hard to imagine life without him; he’s been my friend since preschool. “Whenever this is all over, you have to come back here,” I say in a rush.
“What if it’s never over? What if I can’t come back to America?” Elyon asks, peering at me.
“Niagara Falls,” I say. “The Canadian side. We meet there at noon on June first in ten years.”
“In ’86?” Matty asks.
“Yeah,” I say, liking the idea. “No matter what.”
“Okay,” Elyon says, putting out his hand. I put mine on top of his, and Matty puts his on mine. We shake. I feel better, knowing we have a plan.
¤
“You boys gonna be okay?” Wicks asks as Elyon and I slide into the back seat of the police car.
“Yeah.” I nod, though the words feel like a lie, and my heart is hammering in my chest. Elyon nods as well.
“Keep the radio line open so I can hear what’s going on. I’ll chime in when the time is right,” Wicks says. Dad nods.
A moment later we’re driving away from Havenwood. Dad and Mitch sit in the front seat and though I’ve done nothing wrong, I feel extremely guilty sitting in the back of the cruiser. The car fills with tense silence as we draw closer to the perimeter the soldiers have set up outside of town. I glance at Elyon, he’s sitting with his hood up and in the semi-darkness he looks completely human. I just hope it’s enough to fool the soldiers.
“As long as we seem willing to let them scan the boys, they probably won’t bother,” Mitch says to Dad. “It takes a while for the scanner to power up.” Dad nods.
We’re flagged down as soon as we come close to perimeter. Dad pulls the car to a stop, rolling down the window. “Evening, sir,” Dad says as a soldier approaches.
“Where you headed?” the soldier asks.
�
��Down to Albany. We picked up a couple of runaways getting into trouble down at the old railway.” Dad sounds completely calm. Meanwhile my heart seems to be thudding right out of my chest as the soldier leans down to peer in the backseat at us. Neither of us meets his eyes.
“We got a robot boy on the run, about this age,” the soldier says. “Gonna have to scan these two.”
“No problem,” Dad says. “Is the robot you’re looking for dangerous?”
“They all are,” the soldier says.
“I hear that,” Mitch says with a small, harsh laugh. “Damn bolt-buckets been taking jobs from good American folks for too long.” He sounds so angry, I almost believe him.
“Damn straight,” the soldier says. “Can you believe my buddy’s wife actually left him for one of those things? It’s disgusting.”
“This clean-up is the best thing Ford’s done since he took office,” Dad says.
“I couldn’t agree more.” The soldier steps back, reaching for the scanning device on his hip. I bite my lip.
Just then, the radio crackles to life and Wicks’ voice comes through. “All available units, please respond to Union Boulevard. We have a possible spotting of the robot boy.”
The soldier lets go of the device. “Looks like I don’t need to scan these two.” He steps back from the car. “Have a good night.”
I let out my breath as we pull away, unaware that I had been holding it in. I turn to watch the lights of the perimeter until they disappear as we round a bend. Elyon and I look at each other, slow smiles spreading across our faces. He begins to laugh, and I can’t help but do the same. A moment later we are laughing like idiots. It is such a relief.
“Okay you two settle down,” Dad says, but I see him smiling in the rearview mirror.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Mitch adds. “No guarantees until we meet up with my contact and get Elyon to him.”
That’s enough to dry up our laughter, but I’m still smiling.
“What will happen in Canada?” Elyon asks.
“There are a lot of sympathizers there,” Mitch says. “You’ll get set up with a good family. Canada just passed a bill guaranteeing citizenship and safety to any robot within its borders.”
“Maybe you can grow up to be a Mountie.” I grin wider. “You’d look good in one of those hats.”
“No way.” Elyon shakes his head. “I’m going to come back here when I’m older and join the army.”
I look at him in surprise. I knew Elyon wanted to be in the army like his Dad and Grandfather, but I didn’t think he would still want to do that now. He shrugs at my look.
“The army needs good people and robots. I won’t ever stand by and let something like this happen again.” He looks down. “It would make my dad proud.”
We’re quiet for most of the drive after that, stopping only once at a gas station. It’s near two in the morning when we finally pull off into a rest area and climb out. Two big trucks sit there side by side. When we approach, four men climb out and meet us.
“Mitch,” the biggest of the guys says. He clasps Mitch’s hand in his and smiles widely as he pumps it up and down. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it.”
“It didn’t look like we were going to have any riders for you for a minute there,” Mitch says. “Thanks for waiting, Jack.”
“I was giving it another hour,” Jack says. “My boys were getting restless.” He nods toward the three other men. “Anyway, what do we have here?”
“Elyon Copra.” Mitch nudges Elyon forward with a hand on the shoulder. “His parents didn’t make it. He’s the only one we know for certain made it out tonight.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Jack says. His expression turns heavy. “Honestly I figured you’d be bringing us more.”
“We didn’t have any warning that the soldiers were heading in,” Dad says. “That was my town. They took my friends.”
“It won’t last,” Jack says. “The rest of the world is going to come down on Ford for this.”
“I hope so,” Dad says.
“He got the passage fare?” Jack juts his chin toward Elyon.
“More than enough.” Mitch presses a wad of bills into Jack’s hand and gives the rest to Elyon. “Take care of him.”
“Of course.” Jack smiles.
“This is it,” Dad says. He puts a hand on Elyon’s shoulder and squeezes. “Good luck, son. We’ll be praying for you.” Elyon nods.
My heart feels like a chunk of lead in my chest; this is all happening too fast. I swallow hard, refusing to cry. I’m surprised when Elyon turns and wraps his arms tightly around me. I quickly hug him back just as tightly. Tears squeeze out and when I pull away, I wipe furiously at them. Elyon smiles.
“Niagara Falls?” he asks.
I nod vigorously. “Yeah, see you there.”
Jack puts a hand on Elyon’s shoulder and leads him to the truck. When the big door rolls up, I see faces peering out. I can’t even guess how many robots are hiding in those two trucks. Just before he climbs in, Elyon looks back at me one last time. He climbs in, and I know I’ll never be the same.
1986
I shake myself from my thoughts and check my watch. It’s just before noon on June first. My hands are jammed in my pockets and I begin to pace nervously, unsure if coming here was a mistake. I haven’t heard from Elyon since that last night, and Matty and I grew apart in high school. I’m already convinced neither of them will show.
The evacuations went on for a little more than a year after the night Elyon left. In the end roughly one million robots were evacuated by the government. Of those, only a few more than a hundred and fifty thousand were released when Ford was impeached due to pressure from the United Nations. The rest had already been destroyed. My college professor said it was the darkest period of American History. I agree with him. When they started the Robot Reestablishment Project, I kept expecting Elyon to return, though now I’m not surprised he didn’t. His parents were never seen again.
I turn to pace back toward the falls again, and spot someone in the crowd watching me. Sandy blond curls over dark eyes and a half grin. It’s been years, but I know it’s Matty. I walk toward him, wondering how this reunion will go.
“Nate.” He nods. “Didn’t know if you’d show.”
“Wasn’t sure you would either.” We’re silent a moment, turning to stare out over the falls. “Think Elyon will show?”
“I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” a familiar voice answers before Matty can respond.
We turn, unsure of what to expect. Elyon stands behind us, smiling at our surprise. His adult body looks a lot like his father’s, dark hair and eyes, a strong chin and narrow build. I’m surprised to realize how easy it is to recognize the boy he once was in that body. He steps close and pulls us both into a big hug. Matty and I wrap our arms around him and each other, falling into the normal three-man-hug of our childhood.
“Look at you both,” Elyon says, stepping back and doing just that. “Nate, you look like a man.”
“Of course.” I laugh.
“What does that make me?” Matty asks.
“You’re the same,” Elyon says with a wide grin. “You’ve always been the same. You’ll always be the same boy who sat next to me in kindergarten when no one else wanted to.” Matty can’t help but smile at that. Elyon motions back toward Main Street with a tilt of his head. “What do you say, should we get something to eat?”
“Do you have the new converter?” I ask, excited for him.
“Of course. Now everything I eat is transferred to energy just the same as it is for you.”
“That’s great.” I clap him on the back, so happy to be with Matty and him again.
Elyon’s face grows serious for a moment, and he glances between Matty and me. “I owe it all to the two of you. I would be just one more pile of junk if it wasn’t for what you did that night.”
I grin, pleased and a little embarrassed to have it said so openly, but tha
t was Elyon’s way. Matty smiles too, throwing an arm around Elyon’s neck and pulling him into a headlock.
“No worries, metal man.” They wrestle for a few seconds before Elyon pulls free. Matty punches him in the shoulder. “Now let’s go find some lunch and a beer.”
They begin to walk towards Main Street, and I’m lost for a moment in memories before I jog to catch up to them, just like I had so many times when we were kids. Walking three abreast, I’m filled with the same feeling I always felt when we were kids.
Together, we could do anything.
Samantha Boyette lives in the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York. Her short stories have been featured in various websites and books, and she was co-winner of the 2010 Textnovel.com online writing contest. To learn more, visit SamanthaBoyette.com.
THE WRONG DOG
By Kyle Aisteach
The scalpel SHOT ACROSS THE OPERATING ROOM. Stan Majewski, D.V.M., roared. His hand clenched involuntarily. On the steel table, the shaggy, grey-and-tan terrier grumbled under the anesthesia mask and began to convulse. Two more blue sparks arced out of the ventral midline incision on her shaved abdomen, one blackening the edge of the surgical split sheet that covered her body.
“What happened?” the attending surgical tech, Terri, asked.
The patient went still, her belly collapsing as her last breath escaped her lungs. The incision sparked one final time.
“Terri,” Stan said as calmly as he could manage, “I want you to go sit in exam room 2. Close the door. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t pick up the phone. Don’t text. If anyone asks you what happened, shrug.”
“What’s going on?” Terri asked.
“Terri, just do it,” Stan said. “Now!”
Terri dialed off the anesthesia and pulled the mask off the dead dog’s face. Flipping her auburn ponytail aside to look over her shoulder with concern, she slipped out of the operating room.
Stan scrambled, yanking open drawers until he found the microchip scanner. He tore the surgical drape off the patient, rolled her body over, and ran the scanner along her spine. Nothing. No chip registering. He ran it along her shoulder and onto her chest. Still nothing. He flipped her over and tried the other side and her belly. Nothing.