by Jamie Canosa
The mayor climbs into the front of the SUV we’re loaded into, and our guard escort chauffeurs us over to town hall. We’re ushered in through a back entrance, away from the prying eyes of the general public, and left in the mayor’s office while he and the guard have more words just outside the door.
“What do you think he wants?” Getting out of that room was all I cared about, but now that we’re here, I’m wondering why.
“I don’t know.” Peter’s standing right by my side, critically examining the office door. “But, we have a much better chance of getting out of here. What I said earlier still stands.”
“Peter, I am not . . .”
“Leigh, for once in your life, would you just . . .”
“Release them.” Mayor Hixon steps into the office, trailed by a sullen looking guard.
Whatever the mayor said out there seems to have sufficiently chastised him. Without further argument, he frees us from the cuffs and leaves the room again.
“Please, have a seat.” Hixon indicates the two chairs opposite his desk, and offers me a smile, which understandably cranks my level of distrust in the man by a few degrees. It’s the nice ones you’ve got to watch out for.
I ease into the chair, half expecting it to spring some kind of elaborate trap. Clearly, I’ve watched too many cartoons. All it does is give under my weight and cocoon me in a soft, pillowy luxury I could get lost in.
“From what I’ve been told, you two are charged with stealing medical supplies?”
“Yes, Sir.” Peter’s awfully quick to confess.
“What I can’t understand is why that particular offense would warrant isolated confinement. Over the years, I’ve gotten wind of a lot of odd judgments coming from our Head of Security, and I get the feeling something else is going on here. Perhaps you can explain it to me.”
Peter looks to me for my opinion, but I’m still not seeing how it could get any worse. What do we really have to lose?
“Why not? But, remember, you asked for it.” I plow right into a no-holds-barred explanation of work camps, Permatech, and rebellions. It’s quite the tale, made all the more incredible by the fact that every single unbelievable word of it is absolutely true. The final chapter thus far is a bit of a letdown, though, highlighting our utter failure at the hospital and resulting arrest.
“Wow.” Hixon settles back in his chair. I hadn’t even noticed his tense posture while I was busy talking. “I expected something, but this . . . I never . . . Wow.”
Yeah, that’s pretty much the reaction I have every time I stop and think about it, too.
“So, you went looking for assistance at colony M, and they turned you down?”
“Flat.” Peter cringes at my blunt reply, but it doesn’t seem to faze Hixon one bit. I’ve never seen what ‘flabbergasted’ actually looks like before, but I’m seeing it now.
“I don’t . . . And you have injured people there with no medicine or supplies?”
“Yes.” I don’t know where he’s going with this, but his attention has caught mine. “That’s why we’re here.”
“That’s . . . That’s unacceptable. There must be a way we can help.”
I’m sorry, what? Did he just say ‘help’? As in, help us?
“You’re going to help us?” Peter sounds as stunned as I am. “Give us supplies?”
“I’m hoping to do better than that. Do you have a way to transport the people in need of medical care here?”
“Wait.” What do they say about things that seem too good to be true? That they usually are? Well, this holds all the trimmings of being exactly that. “Why would you want to help us?”
“What kind of human being would I be if I didn’t?”
A normal one, based on my experiences.
“If I can arrange for them to be treated at our hospital, could you get them here?”
“Not if we’re locked in that room.” Now who’s being blunt, Peter?
“I think I can help you with that,” Hixon offers, and a little seed of something that looks suspiciously like hope burrows its way inside my defenses. “I’ll insist on holding you on the premises tonight. Jackson won’t like it, but I can hold him off for a few hours.”
“Won’t he know you’re helping us then?” Not to discourage him or anything.
“Jackson’s a moron. Better yet, he thinks I’m a moron. If I tell him you escaped while under my watch, he’ll easily believe it. I’ll make sure the coast is clear and then give you a signal when you’re good to go. Can you be back in four days?”
“If we hurry.” When did I start seriously considering this plan?
“Good. I know some people from the hospital that we can trust. They should be able to get ready for you by then. Is there anyone else who knows about all of this?”
“Sal. Sal . . . the baker.” Huh, I work with the guy for over three years, and I don’t even know his last name. How lame is that?
“Good. I may need his help to get you all back in.”
“How exactly are we getting everyone back in? It’s not like Jackson isn’t going to notice a few hundred extra people.” And why am I the only one asking questions here?
“You just get everyone to that station at three A.M, four days from now, and leave the rest to me.”
We seem to be leaving a lot of this to him, and those ugly trust issues are starting to strangle that hope trying to take root.
“I don’t understand. You’re going to help us escape, and then help us sneak a bunch of injured people back in, just to patch them up? Why would you do that? Why risk it? What are we to you?”
“You’re human beings. Kaleigh. Peter. I know it must be hard to believe considering everything you’ve been through, but sometimes, people just want to do the right thing.”
Damn if his words aren’t like sunshine and water to that little seed. Hope is dangerous. It can get you hurt faster than almost anything, but there it is anyway.
The guard is nowhere to be seen when Hixon shows us to a small office with a couple of couches where we can rest until it’s time to go. By the time he leaves us alone in the first unlocked room we’ve seen in a while, my excitement level has reached an all-time high. I’m practically bursting at the seams. Could this really be happening? Could something finally be going our way for a change?
I knew something was going to have to happen eventually, one way or the other. We couldn’t just go on camping out at L forever. But, I think, deep down, I always expected it to go the other way. For some horde of guards to come rolling in and drag us all away. With Hixon’s help, I’m starting to believe for the first time that things may actually stand a chance of working out in our favor. And, despite my trust issues, it is nice to leave things up to someone else for a change.
I’m bouncing around like some kind of lunatic on crack while Peter reclines on one of the couches. Under normal circumstances, I’d smack him for laughing at me, but feeling this happy is a rare thing for me, so I choose to indulge in it and laugh along with him instead. After about ten minutes of temporary insanity, which may or may not have included something similar to a victory dance, all of the crazy sort of drains out of me, and I slump onto the other couch, completely wiped out.
“You should get some sleep.” Peter’s still grinning at my display. “It’s getting late, and I think I just watched you exert more energy than you’ve ever used before in your entire life.”
I must be spiraling back to reality because the urge to slap him has returned full force. Unfortunately, he’s right, and the three feet of space between us just seems insurmountable at the moment.
“You were awfully quiet in there.” I’m surprised he isn’t more excited.
“He’s helping us escape. What more was there to discuss?”
“How about, ‘why’?”
“Who cares as long as we’re getting out of here?”
“Maybe the people we’re bringing back . . .”
“One step at a time, Leigh. Let’s get the heck
outta here first. Then we can decide whether or not we’re coming back.”
“You don’t trust him?” It’s sad to see Peter’s faith in humanity fading.
“I’m not sure. All I want right now is to get the two us as far away from Jackson as possible.”
“Given, but after that . . .”
“After that, we’ll figure out our next step, all right?”
“Okay, Peter.” Well, that took the wind right out of my sails.
Deflated, I lie back on the couch and count the many cracks crisscrossing the ceiling. I’m sure Peter’s having about as much luck sleeping as I am, but we’re both too tired to talk anymore. It’s been a ridiculously long day, in a string of ridiculously long days. Just recounting everything to Hixon earlier was exhausting, but maybe, just maybe, this will turn out to be the beginning of the end of all that.
I’ve only dozed off for a second when there’s a brisk knock at the door. Peter tells me to stay put—like that’s going to happen—and goes to answer it. The dark hallway’s empty, and my sleep deprived brain is a little confused. Was that supposed to be our signal? Something a little more obvious, like a blinking neon sign reading ‘signal’ would have been nice.
“Let’s get out of here.”
‘Duh’ is the response begging to be set free, but I’m able to rein it into just a nod. I keep waiting for Jackson to show up with his handcuffs and blindfolds all the way back to the train station, but Mayor Hixon keeps his word, and we have smooth sailing the entire way. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have things actually go according to plan for a change. Part of the plan or not, though, the next two and a half hours are sucktastic. We spend them standing around, freezing our butts off, waiting for the train to come and collect us, so everyone just has to excuse my lack of social skills when I immediately isolate myself in a private compartment and face plant on the bed.
***
“Have you heard the news?” We’ve been traveling for about half an hour, and the gentle sway of the train is on the verge of rocking me to sleep when Peter bursts into my compartment without even bothering to knock. “Of course not. You don’t talk to anyone.”
That’s right, bust into my room, disrupt my nap, and now insult me. My best friend, ladies and gentlemen.
“I talk to you, so what news?”
“At least three more camps have rebelled. Two of them are onboard with us, and they’re sending the train back to pick up the workers from some mines in a few days.”
“What kind of mines? Iron or coal?”
“I don’t know, but did you hear me? Leigh, this is really happening. Connor was right.”
“I know. That’s great, but, Peter, please can you find out which mines it was? It’s important.”
He looks a little disappointed with my reaction, but goes to do what I asked without questioning it further. It doesn’t take him long.
“It was the iron mines,” he informs me, after knocking this time around. “Colony E. That’s where you were, right?” He asks it casually enough, but the words come out a little strange as his jaw tenses along with the rest of his body.
“Yeah.”
“And your friend that you were telling me about . . . she’s still there, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, Lori.”
I can’t fight my grin, and Peter’s posture loosens. “Well, if she joins us, then I guess you’ll be seeing her again in a few days.”
“Oh, she’ll join us.” Of that, I have no doubt.
“Then I look forward to meeting her.”
I can’t wait to get back so I can tell Connor. Lucky for me, he’s waiting for us at the station when we pull in.
“Girlie!” I step out onto the platform, and then have to wait another minute and a half to tell him as I recover the breath he squeezed out of me with his rib cracking hug.
“We did it,” I wheeze.
“You got the supplies?”
“Better. We got help. The mayor offered to help us sneak everyone who needs medical treatment into the hospital at colony D.”
“How did you manage that?”
“It’s a long story.” One I’m not particularly keen on reliving at the moment.
“Well, that’s great! Good work.” Peter and I both accomplished it—probably more Peter than me—but I’m the one Connor’s grinning at as he congratulates us.
“There’s more.” I’m practically bouncing on my toes, and even Peter’s having a hard time fighting a smile at my exuberance.
“What’s that?”
“The iron mines rebelled!” I shout it like ‘Happy birthday’ or ‘Happy New Year’ or something else happy, and it is . . . except, Connor doesn’t look too happy about it.
“Good. That makes three more camps joining our ranks.”
“And Lori.” I’m stating the obvious here, but it doesn’t seem to be that way to him.
“And Lori.” His lips press into a plastic smile that fails to reach his eyes.
I’m teetering on the edge of my freaky rendition of my girly-twirly-victory-dance take two when Connor’s distinct lack of enthusiasm sinks in, bringing me down a notch or two. For that I’m grateful, but . . . “Why aren’t you more excited about this, Connor?”
“Because, Girlie.” He frowns, taking a look around at the bustling station, and pulls me off to the side. “I just don’t want to see you get your hopes up too high, that’s all.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
A pained expression mars Connor’s handsome face. “Kaleigh, you know Lori’s older than most workers, and she isn’t particularly strong.” The memory of what Connor told me about his mom floats to the surface, and I understand the raw pain in his eyes. “I’m not saying she didn’t make it, but you know as well as I do that when the fighting started, she wouldn’t have just gone and hid somewhere.”
“You think she’s dead?” The shock of the possibility is overwhelming.
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that I want you to be prepared . . . just in case. I don’t want to see you get hurt, Girlie.”
If that’s the case, then I’m pretty sure it’ll hurt whether or not I was prepared for it, but I’m grateful to Connor for not sugar coating things with me. I give him a quick nod, refusing to think too hard about it. The Lori I know is a fighter, she’s a survivor, and I won’t believe otherwise until I see it with my own eyes.
“Everything all right?” Peter gave us our privacy for a few minutes, but apparently, patience isn’t really his strong suit.
“Fine,” I assure him.
I can feel Connor’s eyes on me, like he’s trying to decide if I really am, but it’s the truth . . . for now. Until I have a reason not to be, I’m fine.
“So, when are we sending everyone to colony D?” Connor does an excellent job shifting the conversation and distracting Peter. I should take notes.
“We need to leave tomorrow. Can we have everyone that’s going ready to travel by then?”
“I don’t see why not,” Connor agrees.
“Good. We’ll leave the doctor here in case he’s needed, but the nurse can come with us just in case someone needs her during the trip.” I surprise myself with how decisive I sound. It feels good to have a solid plan for a change.
“You’re sure you want to go back there?” Peter still sounds unconvinced.
“Peter, this is our best chance at getting at least some of these people out of here before this all goes to hell. Besides, they have actual medicine and more than one doctor there. Then we can figure out what to do about Reynolds and getting the rest of us out of here.”
“You’re right.”
“I am?” I’m pretty sure that was the one and only time I’m ever going to hear Peter say those words. Where’s a tape recorder when you need one?
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Peter chuckles. “You have your moments. Hixon can do a lot more to help them than we can, and he did keep his word about getting us out of there.”
***
Bodies occupy almost every available seat on the train. Most of the private compartments have been assigned to the worst case patients. There won’t be any solitary escape for me this time around. As luck would have it, the only other non-injured female on board is the nurse. Exactly who I wanted to room with. Seriously, if she so much as looks at my hand, we’re going to have problems. Peter finds the whole situation highly amusing along with the fact that I am suddenly much more amenable to the idea of community cars. We spend most of the day sitting in a car with large bay windows across both sides watching the landscape blur by between checks on the patients. Why I’m checking on patients, I haven’t a clue. It’s not like I’d have the slightest idea what to do if any of them actually needed any help, but I’m good for the occasional glass of water.
When we roll into the station at precisely three A.M. in accordance with Mayor Hixon’s time table, I swear the entire train holds its collective breath. It’s the moment of truth. Things are about to go really right, or really wrong in a big way. Peter and I are the first ones to exit onto the platform since no one else volunteered for the opportunity.
It’s pitch black. Even the moon is refusing to show its face through the thick cloud cover. But, in the residual glow coming from the business district, I can just make out the silhouettes of a couple dozen people scattered across the platform. What have we walked into?
Chapter 23
“We need to hurry.” Mayor Hixon steps out of the shadows, and my heart—which is pounding with roughly the force of an elephant stampede—eases into a steadier rhythm. “The guards should be busy for at least the next hour, but we have a lot to do.”
“Where are they? The guards?”
“Sal had a bit of an . . . incident over at the bakery that required their attention.” I don’t even want to know. “Now, let’s move.”
Behind him, men and women dressed in dark clothes come forward, bringing with them what must be the hospital’s entire supply of gurneys and wheelchairs. It’s the most coordinated effort I’ve ever seen. You’d think they trained for this type of thing. In less than fifty minutes, they have each and every person unloaded and transferred to the hospital.