by Beatty, Cate
“Dad,” she complained, “what are you talking about?”
“Promise me, Joan. I couldn’t save your mother. But you…I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.” He spoke as if he knew about the possible tax, but he couldn’t, she thought.
“You’re talking nonsense. Nothing’s going to happen. Dad—”
“But if anything does happen. If…Promise me—and your mother. Joan, you’re strong. Promise us.”
“Dad, come on, sit down.”
He walked over to a photo of Annika. “I couldn’t save her,” he mumbled quietly. Turning to Joan, “Promise us.”
“OK, Dad, I promise.”
“Really? You’re strong, you know. There’s civilization out there—the Outside, Jack says. You of all people can make it out of the ghetto. If anything ever happens… Promise. I mean, really, really, promise me…promise us.”
She gazed at his face. His eyes seemed older, the wrinkles more evident but there was a meaning in them that stirred her in her heart.
“I promise.”
At the Center Jack had her concentrate on events such as rock climbing, kickboxing, target shooting, long jumping, and long-distance running. Sometimes she wanted to chuck it all, go home, and spend her time relaxing, watching life go by in the ghetto. What’s the worst they could do to her? she thought wryly.
But she didn’t. She kept working and practicing. She didn’t talk about it with Jack, but she had a hard time reconciling why they would tax her heart if Tegan’s heart was fine. Disillusionment overwhelmed her. She had worked hard for seventeen years, followed the law, the System…and what had it brought her? She worried about her father. He would be alone. And what about Dolly? Who would bring her food?
Sitting on the edge of her bed in her stocking feet one morning, Joan rubbed her eyes. She trudged lazily to her bedroom window, pulled back the shades, and viewed the morning sun, dazzling across the ghetto. The ghetto appeared almost beautiful. Almost. She paused for a moment, enjoying the sunrise’s beauty and ignoring the smokestacks and run-down apartment buildings that marred nature’s splendor. She took a deep breath, while she held up her hand to block the brightness.
It had been exactly six weeks since the cardiac tests. The days were getting longer. Joan used to enjoy the change from winter to spring. She always relished seeing the snow melt away and the flowers bloom. But now each day was agony for her, waiting and wondering when the Gates family would make their decision—and what that decision would be. She felt as if she were climbing a tall rock wall, with the rope fraying and about to break any second—to send her plummeting to the ground.
Staring at the rising sun, she realized she had been holding her breath. She let out one long breath and turned away. She opened the closet door and surveyed her shoes. Compliments of her benefactor, Joan’s closet held ten pairs of top-of-the-line athletic shoes. Joan grabbed a pair of cross-trainers and slipped them on. She sat on her bed, tying the shoes, when her father called to her from the kitchen.
“Honey, you’re getting a message,” he hollered, as her wrist phone, sitting on the kitchen counter, vibrated.
Joan wandered to the kitchen, not rushing.
“Did you want any more coffee, Dad?”
“Nah, I’m fine. Aren’t you going to check your message?”
“Who’s it from?”
Staffan glanced at the phone and squinted, “Can’t tell.”
Leisurely, Joan picked up the phone. The identity of the sender had been blocked. The two sentence script read: “TEO on their way. Get out now.”
Joan read it twice. The Governor and Tegan made their decision. They were going to tax her heart. The snatchers were coming for a preemptive arrest. Seeing the look on her face, her father grabbed the phone and read the message.
“Dad, I have something to tell you—”
“I know. I’ve known from the beginning. Jack told me.”
Her father reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a backpack.
“Here, I’ve packed this for you. It has food, rope, a flashlight, and other stuff. You have to evade.”
“Dad, I can’t live forever in hiding here in—”
“Not here. You have to leave the Alliance. I put a map in here of the sewer system. Get into the main tunnel, and go to tunnel three. They’re in numerical order. Tunnel three is small, but it leads to the outside and the lock on the grate is broken. They haven’t rushed to fix it yet because it’s over a cliff. It’s not a steep cliff—you can handle it. Use the rope if you have to. The map is marked. Go!”
“But Dad, it’s wild out there—the Outside.”
Downstairs, Nox and three officers climbed out of a van in front of Joan’s apartment building.
“I know this donor. This should be an easy one,” Nox told his officers casually.
Walking beside Nox, also in the distinctive black uniform, was Duncan Starr. Nox was pleasantly surprised when Duncan chose to serve his draft in the TEO, and in Nox’s own unit. Obviously he wanted to stay in the city, near home and near his girlfriend. Nox didn’t blame him; he wouldn’t want to leave Tegan Gates, either. Nox hoped that having the son of an important man in his unit might help his chances for advancement.
Over the last few weeks, Duncan impressed him with his intelligence and his physical abilities. Usually, Nox got stuck with spoiled kids from rich families, unwilling or unable to perform—the type that wanted to do everything the easy way, the type that actually looked forward to using the machine. The spoiled rookies expected they could have their way with female donors. Nox forbade it. Adherence to the law was of utmost importance, and he tried to make them understand.
Nagging at Nox was the perception that these kids didn’t give him his due respect. The haunting prospect existed that somehow they knew Nox’s father had been a donor. He shouldn’t be embarrassed by it, he told himself. His father followed all the rules and the law. He had obeyed the System and bought himself a citizenship. When Nox was a child in school, the other kids bullied and teased him because his father was a donor. A former donor, he reminded himself. He still constantly reminded himself how he had risen above it. But somewhere in his inner recesses, Nox felt shame.
Joan’s father told her, “There are people out there.”
“Violent, uncivilized people—”
“No. Jack says to head west, all the way to the western ocean. Find someone named Lucas. General Lucas. At the edge of the Alliance border, you should come to a deep gorge. On the other side is where the wilderness begins—the Outside. Just remember the song. Use the song as your guide. Come on, I’ll go with you to the sewer grate.”
Just then her phone vibrated again. She read the message: “TEO are there.” Joan opened the front door and looked out. Nox turned the corner in her hallway. They saw each other. Nox raced forward, and Joan slammed the door shut.
She panicked, but her father remained calm, “Go off the balcony. Use the rope.”
His composure was infectious, and he pacified and calmed her—imparting to her an aura of intensity. They rushed to the balcony, and Joan peered over the railing to examine the wall. They were seven floors up.
“No, I don’t need the rope. I can find footholds and handholds on the block wall.”
She slipped on the backpack and looked at her father. They hugged and kissed.
“Dad, I have to tell you something—”
The front door kicked in.
“No time.” He pushed her over the railing, and she rapidly began her descent along the side of the building.
The officers raced to the balcony. Staffan fought with them. He did what he could to slow them down, but they outnumbered him and hit him aside. Nox had his gun out, as did another officer.
The officer pointed his gun at Joan, but Nox grabbed his arm, “Don’t shoot. You can’t tranquilize her there on the side of the building. She’d fall. She has to be taken alive.”
Joan continued climbing. Halfway down the wall,
a roof connected from an adjoining building. If she could get to that, she could run across it to another building. Then she could jump across and maybe get away. She heard the sound of drones overhead.
Nox recognized her plan. “Quick, call other units to surround the block.”
An officer replied, “No others in the area.”
Nox had expected this to be an easy catch. He saw the drones, too. It would look bad for him to let the Governor’s donor get away live on the tele-screen.
He turned to Duncan, “Here, hold my gun, Starr.”
Duncan took Nox’s gun, and Nox grabbed Joan’s father.
“Help me get him over the railing,” Nox ordered the other officers. They threw him over the wrought iron railing of the balcony, so that he stood on the other side, facing the building and holding on to the railing for his life.
Nox shouted to Joan, “23, come back, or we’ll push him off.”
Joan looked up.
“No!” she shouted desperately.
“Up. Now!” Nox shouted, one of the few times he raised his voice on the job.
“No, Joan!” her father yelled. “Keep going!”
She looked down. The adjoining roof was so close. She looked back at her father.
“DON’T STOP!” Staffan screamed.
As her father yelled at her to continue, Nox screeched, “Come on. Come back up.”
The drones buzzed overhead. She had trouble thinking. She couldn’t do this. Her mother died because of her; she couldn’t let it happen to her father, too.
“Don’t hurt him. I’m coming,” she hollered, as she began climbing up the wall.
Just then, Staffan Lion roared, “NO, Joan!”
She didn’t look up at her father. He was wrong about her, she thought to herself. She wasn’t strong.
Staffan let go of the railing. Nox tried to grab him, but Staffan fought him off. Joan glanced up just in time to see her father falling. She watched him hit the ground.
“NO!” she screamed. She looked up, seething with fury. Nox leaned over the railing. Then, stepping in beside Nox was… Duncan! Her mouth dropped. He wore the dreaded black uniform. He was one of them. She couldn’t think about it now, so she quickly descended to the nearby roof.
While she ran across the roof, one of the officers shot a dart at her but missed by quite a distance.
Nox reached for his own gun but found his holster empty, “Starr, give me back my gun.”
Duncan handed it back to Nox, who turned to fire, but it was too late. Joan ran around the corner and off the next rooftop. She sprinted through the ghetto streets. Nox looked skyward as a news drone veered off, following her from above.
PART II
Evader
11
Joan raced through the streets. After jogging a few minutes, she heard commotion behind. Two snatchers. She ducked inside the market. It was crowded. Perfect. Dodging easily in between the stalls and sellers, she made her way to the back door. Turning, she saw the snatchers caught in the crush of the store. The donors were not budging, and sellers “accidentally” pushed items in the way. She slipped out to the back alley.
She proceeded through dark alleyways for a few minutes, but a drone hovered above her. It found her. She glimpsed a raised walkway ahead, crossing the street and attaching two buildings. Underneath hid a sewer grate. She stopped under the walkway, out of sight of the drone, and forced up the grate. The odor made her wince.
People looked at her but did not react. They saw the drone and knew a donor ran for her life, and they didn’t want to give away her position. They nonchalantly walked by her, ignoring her, as she struggled to live. It was eerie, as if she were invisible. The drone, which had continued on, realized it lost her and doubled back.
Taking a breath, she climbed into the sewer—into the pitch-dark blackness and the stink. She fumbled inside the backpack and found the flashlight. Using the limited light, she ran through the large pipe, slipping in the sewage. She had to bend over. After scurrying what she thought a safe distance, she stopped to rest and pulled out the map to get her bearings.
The tunnel surrounding her was a side tunnel, tunnel number nine. She followed it to the main tunnel. That tunnel was large enough for her to stand upright, and she ran as fast as she dare through the slippery muck. She continued, following the numbers of each consecutive tunnel until she reached number three. It was a small tunnel. She had to crawl to make her way through it. It took a while, but sunlight glimmered ahead. She arrived at the grate and pushed it. It gave way. The sun streamed through the grate, and she decided to sit and rest for a moment in its warmth. Breathing deeply the fresh air, she surveyed the outside. The tunnel opened to a cliff, but her father was right. It wasn’t steep. She could descend it without difficulty.
Her father, she thought. It happened so fast. How did she end up out here? An evader! Running from the authorities. She had always looked upon evaders with disdain and scorn. Now she was one of them. If she hadn’t run, if she’d stayed and gone with the snatchers, her father would be alive. It was too late. Even if she did return and gave herself up, her father was dead.
Duncan. He stood on the balcony when Nox pushed her father off. He was a snatcher. Apparently he decided to take the safe, cushy job of a body snatcher instead of joining the army after all. If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it. He fooled her, and she told him her name. She was foolish to believe him, foolish to love him. And now her father was dead. Hatred welled up in her.
She turned toward the sunlight and took another breath of the fresh air. She couldn’t think about Duncan. She had to keep going. Or did she? What was she doing? What was she going to do? She had no one. No family. Nothing. And it was all her fault.
She sighed, as she slid the map back in the backpack. Her hand brushed against a piece of paper. She pulled it out—a photograph of her parents. She had promised her father—promised them both—she wouldn’t give up.
Squinting from the bright sun, she climbed outside the tunnel. At the bottom of the cliff was a small creek, four feet across. Then another cliff rose on the other side. At the top of the far side, a sparsely wooded area grew. She started down the cliff. Once at the bottom, she effortlessly leaped over the creek and began to ascend the other side.
Unexpectedly, the sound of a drone buzzed overhead. It had flown in ever-larger circles around the ghetto in an effort to find her, and it paid off. She tried to ignore it, hovering and buzzing above, as she picked her way up the cliff.
At the top she glanced at her wrist phone. No signals reached it way out there, so she couldn’t communicate with anyone. Wondering if they could track her, she pulled it off and threw it down the cliff. She continued on totally alone, except for the drone and the millions of citizens watching.
One of Nox’s officers looked at his wrist phone display and said, “Captain, the drone picked her up. She’s outside the ghetto, in Area Six.”
“How did she get out?” Nox asked, to no one in particular. “At least the drone will track her.”
In his office, surrounded by various aides, the Governor stared at Joan on a large tele-screen, as she ran through the woods. Holding a glass in his hand, he motioned to his servant, who was standing at the back of his office.
“More here, honey,” he held up his glass to the girl.
The servant brought the decanter and poured more liquid into his drink. She was the pretty waitress from the Fitness Center, the one with the unique, violet-colored eyes.
“Ice, girl. More ice,” he ordered crossly.
She hastily went back to the credenza and brought over the ice bucket. As she struggled with the tongs to pick up ice, the Governor impatiently grabbed a handful. Watching Joan on the tele-screen, he held the ice for a moment. Then he dropped them into his glass and directed an aide, “Get the TEO on the phone.”
Joan kept running west. The morning sun burned brightly, so she found her way by keeping the sun at her back. The drone flew abov
e her. Drones worked in teams. One followed the evader, and one kept with the snatchers. It made for a more exciting chase for the viewers. As long as Joan could see just one drone, she knew Nox was not close.
She kept jogging at an easy—but quick—pace. The sparse foliage offered limited cover from the drone. She tried to stay under the trees, but it stayed with her. Thirst overpowered her. She stopped under a tree and pulled out a bottle of water from her pack. She took a long drink, savoring it and listening to the incessant buzz of the drone. It saw her and stopped, hovering just above the tree under which she rested.
She stared at the drone, knowing the citizens watching their tele-screens stared back at her. Replacing the water bottle and zipping up her backpack, she spotted a rock on the ground. She picked it up and toyed with it, while she looked through the branches at the drone above. Her breathing slowed, as she took deep, measured breaths. Then she ran into the open and heaved the rock at the hovering drone.
In a control room filled with tele-screens, one screen went fuzzy and then blank. An officer wearing a headphone asked incredulously, “Did we lose drone one? Did she throw something at it? Have the other drone stay higher. Don’t let it get too close to her.” He shook his head. “This is a first.”
Nox and the officers drove to Area Six and waited at the top of the cliff, right where Joan had climbed up, half an hour before. His wrist phone vibrated. He answered.
“What the hell is going on?” his division commander demanded. “Do you know who I just got off the phone with? Our Governor. I was talking to Our Governor himself. He’s pissed. He’s watching this girl make a fool of us on the tele-screen. Do you know what’ll happen when people find out she’s Our Governor’s donor and that she escaped the ghetto walls? The drone is down. Down! We think she hit it—threw something at it!”
Looking at a drone above him, Nox tried to calm the man down, “I know who she is, sir. Don’t worry. I’m at Area Six right now, and I’ll get a dog team. We’ll pick her up soon.”