by Hannah Ross
Raven, Patrick, and Tanya crossed the few yards to where the Eagles were standing, and introductions were made.
"Good to see you again, Enzo," said Raven, shaking hands. "I'd think you, of all people, would have stayed home."
"I wanted to, but then I realized it's because I'm chickening out and I made myself come."
Raven grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit."
All at once, the chatting and laughter died. Ben turned and saw the person he liked least in the world.
Barry the Bear looked the same with his wide, bulky form, his neatly parted blond hair and the swagger in his step. He was dressed in black from head to toe with a gold bracelet and watch adorning his fat wrists.
Apart from his usual cronies, Ben saw he was accompanied by a group of strange-looking people packed tightly together. Andy was right. They look nothing like outcasts from inside the boundary.
They avoided eye contact with anyone but those of their own company, talked among themselves in low voices, and carried extremely large backpacks.
Barry's people made a beeline for the steps of the dried-up fountain, but Barry himself noticed the Grey Eagles, changed direction, and strutted toward them. Ben's hate for him grew with each paced, confident step.
"Now here's an unexpected pleasure," said Barry.
"Why should it be unexpected? Perhaps because you didn't bother to let us know you're calling a meeting?"
Barry shrugged, his attempt to appear innocent belied by a wolfish grin. "A crime of omission. So many people to invite, so many arrangements to make. I'm not sorry to see you here, though…or you, Raven."
Raven merely stared at him and nodded with all the cool dignity she could muster.
"And here's my old pal Enzo. How's life in the country? I guess you fancied a change of scenery?"
He thrust out a hand, but Enzo ignored it.
"What's the matter? I don't resent you for going away. You're a free man. Is there bad blood between us?"
"Why don't you tell us all you know about blood, Barry?" spat Ben as Enzo looked away.
"Well, time to start, I guess," said Barry, as he turned on his heel, made his way back to the fountain, climbed to its upper level, and clapped his hands, looking around to make sure he had everybody's attention. "Can't tell you how pleased I am to see you all here."
"Cut it out, Barry." Raven's clear, loud voice carried across the plaza. "I didn't come all this way to hear you prattle. Get down to business."
Barry flashed a smile at her. "In a minute, Raven. As you know, calling an All Camps Meeting is no small feat, and I wouldn't do it if I didn't have a really good reason."
"This had better be good, Barry," someone's low, booming voice sounded from the crowd. "We've missed out on some great hunting to be here."
"I'll offer you better hunting. Or to be exact, my friends here will. Manuelo, step up and say a few words."
One of the strangers looked up in surprise and hesitated, not nervous or shy, just unsure how to proceed. Finally he nodded, climbed up, and stood next to Barry.
"OK then," he said with the accent Andy mentioned. "My name is Manuelo. My friends and I come from Mexico." Murmurs of interest broke across the plaza. Manuelo waited for them to die down and cleared his throat.
"Mexico got hurt by the War, too, but not as bad as the States. We have more people, more territories fit for living, some good technology…and good weapons. Let me show you." He hopped down, said a curt word to his companions, and they all opened their backpacks and spilled their contents onto the ground.
There was a collective intake of breath. There, on the dusty floor of the plaza, in the bright sunlight was a pile of shiny rifles, more than Ben had ever seen in his life. They appeared to be new and all of the same brand. A buzz arose in the plaza, and grew louder by the second.
"What is this, Barry?" shouted Mac.
"This is our chance of true freedom, and revenge."
It was becoming harder to hear over the din. "What are you talking about, Barry?" someone shouted.
"In Mexico, we have no such thing as the Boundary," Manuelo said. "We don't have much, but people live together in areas fit to live in."
"In other words," said Barry, "if there's shit, everybody eats it. I suggest we make the people in the Boundary do the same."
"Explain yourself," Raven called out.
"With pleasure. We all remember life within the Boundary, right? They have their neat houses and streets. They have stores and public transportation. They have fries and soda pop and chocolate. And they have movie theaters and schools and colleges and parks and libraries. They have enough to support more people but they aren't ready to share. They cast us off as no good. They sent us out here, to try and make a go of it, and you all know how many of us died in the process. We still die sometimes from stuff like pneumonia and infections. We lose women and babies in childbirth because there's no doctors, no medicine, nothing to help us when there's trouble. Now we have a chance to get back at them. Smash the Boundary. Destroy the Pollution Screen. Destroy their tidy little Urban Islands and make them all come out here and face it like men."
Barry fell silent and watched the crowd get more and more excited.
Ben felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. What Barry said had a measure of justice that could not be denied. He inhaled, taking as much air as possible into his lungs, until they could expand no further. "And how exactly will that help us?" he yelled. He walked toward Barry, the Mexicans and the pile of ominously shining rifles, climbed up the fountain border and faced the crowd too. "OK, suppose we destroy the Boundary. Half of us, probably more, will get killed in the process, of course, so how will this make our lives better?"
Barry looked unperturbed. "Well, Ben, there's plenty of goods within the Boundary, right there for the taking. We can share everything equally. We can live in actual cities, not ruins." His face twisted into an insolent smirk. "Of course, not all of us are brave enough to make it happen."
There was lingering silence around the plaza. It was eventually broken by one of the Mexicans. "We have more weapons," he said in broken English. "This is just a sample."
Someone came forward, took one of the rifles and tossed it from hand to hand. "This would be good for shooting ducks."
"This isn't for killing birds," said Manuelo, taking the rifle from him.
"No," said Ben, "these are for killing people, aren't they? Ask them," he called out, pointing at the Mexicans, "Ask them why they're all so interested in setting us against the people in the Boundary. Why would they want to get us involved in another war? Whose dirty work would we be doing?"
There was murmuring throughout the crowd. Ben exhaled a small measure of the breath he had been holding.
"Those are fine words, Ben Eagle," said Tim Black, a young man with a crudely sewn-up cleft lip from a camp that called itself the Spotted Cats. "And they make a lot of sense. But to tell you the truth, it would feel mighty pleasant to get back at all these people in their nice little Boundary. The government that took all our rights away. The people at the orphanage who treated us like shit. The bastards I was born to, who tossed me out like garbage after one look at my face."
"That's too bad, Tim," Enzo called out and Ben looked at him in surprise. "Here's one thing I can tell you and everybody else, though. Don't trust Barry or anything that comes from him. He doesn't give a shit about you, and he won't be there to save you when you put yourself in danger."
"Funny how you of all people should be saying that, Enzo," someone else shouted, "seeing how you've been one of Barry's friends for so long."
Ben could feel the murmurs growing stronger and more dangerous. Then he felt someone elbow past him. It was Raven, who tossed her hair back, lifted her chin up in the air and marched resolutely toward Barry.
"We're leaving," she told him in ringing tones that carried all around the plaza. "We don't want to kill anyone. We don't want revenge. We don't want the world
that kicked us out. They might not have known it, but they did us a favor. We don't have any leaders telling us what we have to do all the time." She shot a pointed look at Barry. "At least most of us don't. We work hard, sure, but for ourselves, not so some fat rich folks can take most of it and live in big fancy houses and wear fancy clothes and jewels and eat all the best food. Is that really what you want, to go work in some dreary factory every day until you die? Assuming, of course, you aren't killed by the rich people's police and soldiers first so Barry can feel like a big man. Do you think he'll be leading the charge? Or hiding in the back, where he can't get hurt? We…all of us, we're building a new world together out here, and I must say I like it a lot better than what I saw before they kicked me out."
Before Barry could form a response, she turned her back on him and walked away to where Ben and the others were standing. Raven's voice and step all spelled confidence, but when she stood close to Ben, he could see she was trembling.
Her words made a difference, though. Barry stood slack-jawed as people started to disperse. The Mexicans put their heads together, talking quietly and rapidly, looking disappointed. Barry was soon wearing a scowl.
"I wouldn't say no to lunch at your camp, if you have anything to spare for us," Raven told Ben. "We didn't bring much with us."
The city camp was crowded, just like in the good old days. Everybody pitched in making the stew for lunch and ladling it into bowls. Once the clatter of spoons slowed a little, Andy looked at Mac and Ben with a look of grim satisfaction.
"See what I mean?" he said. "We can't just let Barry do whatever stupid stuff he thinks of. There's no knowing what else he might come up with."
"Whatever it is, there isn't much you can do," Mac said.
"We let you know about the meeting!" Andy protested. "Ben came and spoke against Barry. If he hadn't, I would have gone up and punched the Bear in the face. Don't tell me this didn't make a difference."
"Raven made more difference than I did," Ben said. "A lot more. She's the one who convinced everyone Barry's idea was stupid. Heck, if it wasn't for her, some of those people would probably be still listening to Barry's plans to get them killed so he can get his revenge."
Raven, her mouth full of stew, pretended she did not hear.
"He nearly got people to attack the Boundary," Andy said. "It's insane, but he sounded very persuasive. This could have ended in disaster."
"Andy. If you leave, more camps will follow," Enzo said. "Soon, the city will grow empty and there won't be much for Barry to do. Leave, Andy. Please. There isn't anything to stay for anymore."
But Andy's face wore the determined, stubborn expression many knew so well. "This is my home. Michael was my best friend. I started this camp together with him. I'm not giving Barry the satisfaction of seeing us leave."
Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw Raven shaking her head.
Later, as they sat alone out of earshot, Raven told Ben, "If I were Edeline, I'd give Andy a clot over the head to knock some sense into him."
"I don't think that would work. Andy's funny that way. Even if there's an obvious conclusion, he has to reach it on his own."
"Then I'd take the kids and go and I'll bet the right conclusion would dawn on him soon enough. Does your invitation still stand, by the way?"
It took him a moment to realize what she meant. "Uh…I mean…sure. That would…uh…that will be nice. Would you like to set out with us tomorrow?"
When Raven smiled, Ben was sure the room got a little brighter. "You know what, I think we will. The weather looks just right for traveling."
17
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Sidney Coleridge had crossed the Boundary more times than anyone else since the end of the War. Some called him brave, some reckless, some admired him, and some took him for a fool, but just he shrugged off such talk. He often thought that in ancient times, he would have done well as a lone adventurer. When he imagined the walls of the city buildings, and the limits of the Boundary all closing in on him, he often felt like his oxygen supply was being cut off. He needed space, and silence, and solitude all around him, which is why he felt lucky someone was willing to fund his expeditions.
His official job consisted of looking for university and government archives in ruined cities, in pursuit of valuable information that was lost in the War. Many things could be classified as such, including laboratory records, student name lists, and official statements. Sometimes he stumbled across real treasures, like old hard drives that could, with proper care, be recovered and read.
In between the tasks he was paid to perform, there was plenty of time for rambling tours of a country that was once ravaged by the War, but had recovered much of its natural beauty and almost all of its plant and animal life. The anti-pollutant suit and filter mask, which used to be his constant companions in the first years of his wanderings, were cast aside long ago. The pollution levels were now low enough to make the countryside perfectly livable. Sidney only wondered why so few people knew it.
Still, he was not paid to wonder. He was paid to follow instructions. And the instructions he received in the government office that day were different from anything he ever heard before.
His direct supervisor, Chuck Winthrop, was a short, heavy-set man who gave many the impression of a nearly perfect square topped with a large, shiny bald head with thick black eyebrows that almost met atop his beak of a nose. He could be a pain in the neck, but Sidney rarely had to meet him more than once in a quarter. Today, though, things appeared to have taken a different turn.
Winthrop leaned toward him across the wide, shiny mahogany desk. "Are you absolutely sure you never saw even a hint of them?"
"Yes," Sidney said with a notch of impatience. It was the fifth time he had given the same answer in the last half hour. "It doesn't mean much, however. The country is vast, and they must be very few. Also, I usually cross the Boundary at a different point, not this one." He tapped the black-and-white map on the table between them.
"Well, this time you'll go by one of the routes the orphanage buses take." His pudgy finger stabbed at the map between them. "Go through that gate and continue from there."
"Continue where?" Sidney had not yet despaired of trying to infuse an ounce of sense into the man. "It will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack."
Winthrop loosened the striped tie that was cutting into the flesh of his fat neck. "That isn't my problem. You're the bloody explorer, aren't you? I want you gone as soon as possible, and don't you dare to come back without a report."
"What do you want me to report?"
"How many of them you found. An estimate of how many survived, out of all who were sent out. How they are living. Anything relevant. Then we can begin figuring what it would cost to bring them back."
Sidney shot him a skeptical stare. "It would have been a lot more practical, not to mention a lot more humane, to forgo this policy in the first place. I still remember how shocked I was when I first found out about it."
Winthrop gave a snort of disdain. "The policy worked just fine until the damn reporters came and messed things up. The responsible ones were eliminated, of course, but what of it? The mob is out in the streets, and there's no stopping the riots. The President had to give in. And I don't envy Charles Hockley. He was assigned the job of stopping the leakage about the anti-aging formula. Don't know how in hell he's going to do that."
"Do you reckon it's true?" It was Sidney's turn to lean forward. "All the NOAGE business?"
"It doesn't bloody matter, does it? What's important is that this doesn't escalate into civil war. Anyway, your province is the orphans. Is that clear?"
There were a few things Sidney could have said in response, but he stopped himself. "Perfectly."
"Good." Winthrop took a cigar from a box to his right and made a show of lighting it. Sidney barely stopped himself from wrinkling his nose. He hated tobacco smoke. "The Decree of P
opulation Control is in shambles. People are out there, conceiving illegally as we speak, because they know there won't be any repercussions. We need a new policy, and we need it soon if we don't want things to get completely out of control."
"Right. Well, I'd better get going, then."
He never before traveled across the Boundary by car. Somehow walking or riding a bicycle seemed better suited to the grandeur and silence of the empty land. Now, however, speed was imperative, so Sidney was pressed to accept one of the Explorers reserved specifically for that purpose, along with enough extra fuel to keep him outside the boundary for weeks.
As the large metal gates of the Boundary opened before him, he thought of the children. Twelve-year-olds with no experience and hardly any supplies, sent out into the wild because some calculating mind up in the White Tower deemed them not worth keeping. What would I do if I were one of them?
Sidney drove on along the half-overgrown road that nobody bothered to repair since the War until he reached the end. This is the place. This is where the children were let out to go on their own.
He looked around him, thinking. I'm a twelve-year-old with a backpack, surrounded by a dozen other children just like me, clueless and scared. I'd have to go somewhere, but where? He heard the comforting, steady flow of the river. Its water shone in the sunlight. Water. If I had a bit of sense, I'd stay close to the river. And anyone who didn't have a bit of sense most likely wouldn't have survived.
The vehicle's wheels left noticeable marks in the tall green grass. It felt almost like sacrilege to trample the fresh dewy stalks and the white and yellow wild flowers. Sidney would have gladly stopped the car, hoisted his backpack up on his shoulders and walked, but he remembered Winthrop's instructions. Hurry. There isn't much time. Still, he rolled down the window and drove more slowly.
Enchanted by the raw beauty of the river and the fields on either side, he lost track of time as the vehicle crept along, until what sounded like the bleating of a goat caught his attention. It's somewhere close by. Maybe a herd of them. The idea excited him. He stopped the Explorer, unbuckled his safety belt, and hopped down, gently closing the door for fear a loud noise would startle the animals.