Pure

by Karen Krossing

  I felt Elyle’s eyes on my back as we hurried down the hall. Without another word, Redge and I entered the elevator. Redge slammed a button on the panel, and the doors clanged shut with a terrible echo, leaving me with the memory of Elyle’s forlorn face.

  On the first floor, we rushed down a quiet corridor toward the back courtyard. My stomach was fluttering and I was breathing hard. Only once was I sure that we would be stopped — when we almost ran into two Purity guards. But we hid in an open doorway, held our breath until they passed, then moved on. By the time we got to the courtyard exit, I was ready to burst through the door and keep running. But it was locked.

  “Hurry!” I hissed, as Dawg retrieved the security code.

  Redge typed it into the computer panel beside the door, his fingers fumbling. After seconds that lasted lifetimes, the heavy metal door clicked open.

  I went first, stepping into the courtyard, and breathing in the humid air of freedom. Redge followed.

  “Where is she?” I turned in a circle, taking in the garden, winding stone paths, high fence, and gate.

  The scent of rain was in the air, and the glorious fragrance of leaves. I’d never seen this garden before from the windows or the street beyond. It was astoundingly peaceful. An oasis.

  “We’re here.” I turned at the sound of Duke’s voice.

  Duke and Rae emerged from behind some dense bushes. Rae’s gray-black hair swept down over her shoulders to the middle of her back. She stepped lightly, even with a large pack on her back. Duke was dressed all in black.

  “I thought we were only collecting one.” Duke winked at Rae, his ponytail swinging. “But I guess we could find a use for one more.”

  “I suppose so,” Rae agreed. She passed me some moss-green coveralls that the forest patrol wear. “Here, put these on over your gown.” She also handed me some shoes.

  It was real. I was going to get out of Dawn, get away from Purity. I hurried into the clothes, rejoicing to wear something other than that hateful hospital gown. Relief broke over me in waves, washing away the fear, the terror, and the hurt of the last few weeks. I was going to make it. I would be free.

  Redge grinned. “You know, Duke, all that talk in the cafeteria — it’s hardly a good cover.”

  “Sometimes the best disguise is the truth,” Rae arched an eyebrow.

  Duke snorted. Then he laughed.

  And, even though I had no idea where I was going or what would happen next, I smiled, too.

  toward the sun

  I tramped through the forest, matching Rae’s bouncing stride, dizzy with the pleasure of branches whispering, leaves brushing my arms, the late-afternoon sun dodging rain clouds, and the vast sky. With every step, I was lighter, calmer, more invigorated.

  Behind me, Redge struggled happily along on a pair of quickly fashioned, tree-branch crutches. Duke followed, lugging Redge’s wheelchair on his back. Redge wouldn’t allow himself to be carried.

  My feet moved in a steady rhythm. My eyes flicked from the roots and stones hidden in shadows on the forest floor to the reassuring presence of the pack on Rae’s solid back. A mix of mushroom and spruce tickled my nose, bringing back bittersweet memories of Mur. And here and there, life wort waved its serrated leaves. It had overrun the forest, too, and I hoped Dad would find a way to contain and reinvent it in a new, less invasive way. I wouldn’t want it to destroy the forest.

  We went uphill, circling branches, trying to avoid leaving tracks. I kept expecting to come to the perimeter fence that surrounded Dawn, the fence that enclosed the city, the lake, and a huge area of forest. We had traveled so far, yet we were still inside.

  Then I heard the roar of the waterfall and I knew where we were — on the ridge across the lake from Dawn, below the hydro unit. If I broke from the shadowy forest and found an outcrop of rock, I would see across the lake to Dawn, nestled peacefully between the hills. But what went on there was far from peaceful.

  Rae stopped us by the edge of the waterfall. “We’ll rest here for a bit. Get organized.”

  The thunder of the waterfall pounded in my chest. A soothing spray coated my arms and face. My leg muscles twitched after the long hike. Redge dropped onto a mossy log, set his crutches beside him, and rubbed under one arm where the crutches had held him.

  Duke lowered Redge’s wheelchair to the ground. “Welcome to Cabal Headquarters!” He gestured energetically at the wide-open sky and the clusters of aspen and fir.

  “So the cabal is real?” Redge asked, looking at Duke eagerly.

  “You bet it is,” Duke said.

  Then, as if he hadn’t just hiked all the way from Dawn with Redge’s chair on his back, he marched over to the waterfall and inhaled deeply.

  “Duke would like to think it’s real,” Rae said, opening her pack, “but it’s mostly talk.”

  Duke turned with a grunt. “Rae doesn’t have the full vision.” His tone was light, but I got the sense he was serious. “We should be doing more to fight Purity. I’ve been working on plans.”

  “Destruction isn’t going to bring about public enlightenment, Duke.” Rae passed around a large canteen of water. “What did the sabotage of the solar grid achieve?”

  “You did that?” Redge was staring, amazed, at Duke.

  I wasn’t impressed.

  “Yes, he did,” Rae jumped in before Duke could answer. Yet it was clear from his grin that Duke had done it and he was proud. Rae continued, “But we’ve also been writing and distributing articles, under pseudonyms, that promote acceptance.”

  “Come on, Rae,” Duke said. “We’ve got to do more than that! Purity is worldwide! We need to fight for rights for the genetic underclass. We need to destroy Purity. We need to create an army!”

  I took a long gulp from the canteen. I knew I’d always resist Purity with all I had. Not like Duke wanted to, with violence and sabotage, but in my own way — helping one person at a time.

  “You’re a master of words, Duke,” Rae was smiling and shaking her head. “They’re a powerful tool. But we’ve had this conversation before. I’m here to help people. I’m not prepared to go to war.”

  “What do you do?” I asked Rae, hoping to stop the argument.

  “I operate an underground escape service for those who need it,” she began. “Duke helps me out with that. We can get you away from Purity, give you a new identity, help you get settled. The rest is up to you.”

  Leave Dawn forever. I couldn’t have imagined it a month ago. Now I was looking forward to it. Everything had happened so quickly. It had been only three and a half weeks since I’d first healed that woman, that stranger, down in the commons. That was when the nightmare had begun. Are you skidge? Purity will be after you. Inside my pocket, I rubbed my waterstone, remembering Elyle’s face as the elevators doors closed. I’d left so much behind.

  “That’s amazing!” Two bright spots shone pink on Redge’s cheeks.

  Rae smiled at him. “Just my way of helping out.” She pulled a small package from her pack. “How about a sustenance bar?”

  “I’ll have one.” My stomach rumbled at the mention of food.

  “Me, too,” said Redge, “and I want to hear about this escape service.” He grinned. “How much for a one-way ticket?”

  “Yes, where will we go?” I leaned against Redge’s mossy log to eat my bar. It was delicious, the best I’d ever eaten. I had to be hungry to think that.

  “Right now, I’m sending folks to the far north.” Rae sat beside me. “It’s been warming up there fast and some new areas can now be settled. I’ve been working with a remote Inuit village to help people get established.”

  “So we’re really going to the Beyond!” Redge looked like he didn’t know what to think.

  “It has to be better than Dawn,” I told him, remembering how Rae had said she’d lived in the Beyond for years. Somehow, that helped.

  Rae smiled. “It’s not so bad. You may fit in better than you think.” Then her face grew serious. “It’s a harsh life
in the north, I won’t kid you. The land is going through a terrible time as the earth warms, but the people are supportive and it would be your life to make.”

  Redge looked skeptical, but he nodded.

  “That’s enough chatting.” Rae stood. “Redge, I know you’ve scrambled Purity’s link to your monitor. We can’t remove it for you, but Duke is going to disengage it permanently. We don’t want you found again. And I’m going to organize the supplies you’ll need before we go beyond the fence.”

  She began to rummage through her pack again, handing Duke a strange metal device shaped like a prong. Duke took it, then began to use it against the side of Redge’s neck, just behind his ear.

  “I can’t wait to be free of this,” Redge said.

  “Stay still then.” Duke gave him a friendly smack on the side of his head.

  Into the Beyond. What would I find there? How would I live? I had so many questions, but I knew I had to trust Rae and be ready for anything.

  “You need one of these?” Rae handed me a slate and stylus. Of course, Redge had brought his own slate, with Dawg safely in it.

  “Thanks!” I took the slate, thinking sadly of the lifetime of sketches I’d left behind. Well, I would have to start again. I hoped that where I was going my art would be better received than it had been in Dawn.

  The slate was an older model. Nothing like the sleek, modern one I’d left at the medical unit. Still, I liked the familiar weight of it in my hands.

  “It’s a clunker, but it’ll do,” Rae shrugged. “And you’ll need these clothes and supplies.” She was making a pile beside me. “I’ll put together a pack for you to carry.”

  Then Duke was stuffing the tool back into Rae’s pack, while Redge was cheerfully rubbing the side of his neck, disengaged from his monitor for good. We were leaving Purity behind.

  “Hey, how about a sketch of me?” Redge asked, after he’d thanked Duke about a hundred times.

  I examined Redge’s face, wondering what he was really asking. Would I sketch him, or would I heal his legs? But I knew the real question. Should I heal him? I’d had enough of fighting against nature. I had to work with it, instead.

  Redge caught my intense look and returned it. His eyes flickered down to his legs then back to me. His brow was furrowed.

  I knew I could help Redge and others. I’d mastered my gift, and my curse. I was powerful and dangerous. I’d become an interpreter of another plane, another level of existence. That, too, was what the water-stone meant. The figure was reaching out with both hands and connecting two worlds. But Redge wasn’t broken — I understood that now — and neither was I.

  A shiver ran through me. Redge stared at me, his eyes larger than I’d seen them. Rae glanced at Duke. No one spoke. Only the wind dared to whistle, the trees to creak, the waterfall to roar, and the mosquitoes to buzz nearby.

  “Just a sketch,” Redge said finally, his voice firm, his eyes locked on mine.

  “Really?” My voice came out surprisingly fragile. I didn’t want to say no to Redge. How would I explain that I didn’t need to heal him? But I didn’t have to say anything. Somehow, Redge knew it, too.

  “Really.” Redge nodded. “I’ve had enough of trying to be what I’m not. I just wanted to give you something to draw.”

  “Sure.” I let out a breath. “Let me just play with this slate for a minute to get used to it.”

  Redge used his arms to lift and turn his body toward me. I fiddled with the slate — powered it on and began to experiment with the stylus. I sketched the rough outline of a figure running. The lines were slightly jagged, but it would do.

  The strange thing was that I agreed with Purity in a way. Everyone had the right to a genetic heritage that hadn’t been tampered with. Humans were good enough as we were. Higher intelligence, improved muscular ability — these shouldn’t be the goals. Because more didn’t always mean better.

  I thought again about my water stone. Spirit shaping, Elyle had called it. How had Elyle known so much about me, when she’d made the stone? Could she shape me? Could anyone? I thought about how Rylant had made me scared, then made me angry, then made me strong. She had shaped me, just as I had shaped her. So had Mother and Dad. And Elyle, Jonah, Redge, Rae, Doctor Frank, and especially Mur. They had all shaped me, but they didn’t make decisions for me. Not anymore.

  I sketched Redge with my eyes open. His thin legs tucked sideways against the log. His muscular arms, still gleaming from the effort of the climb. His crooked grin, mischievous eyes, and proud chin. My hand flew over the slate, and I remembered sketching portraits for the simple satisfaction of capturing a person in an instant in time. Redge would never be here again, beside the waterfall, with branches waving behind his head at this moment of escape from Dawn. But I would help him remember this triumph and contentment. I would give him the visual.

  When I was done, I held out my slate to Redge. Rae and Duke looked on. Redge’s smile deepened as he gazed at his own image.

  “There’s no stopping us now,” Redge yelped, slapping a hand down on his thigh.

  “Not too loud,” Rae cautioned.

  Just then, the last of the day’s sun broke through the cloud, filtered through the leaves, and warmed me. The rocks that lined the waterfall sparkled where the sun struck them, as if someone had scattered tiny jewels. I smiled.

  “We don’t need to worry about these two kids in the Beyond.” Duke whacked me on the back too hard.

  Rae nodded, her brown eyes level with mine, one eye delightfully higher and smaller than the other.

  I had no idea what we would face once we were on the other side of the fence. The Beyond was a huge void to me, shaped only by stories and gossip. Maybe it would be filled with half-crazed skidge. Or maybe I’d find people like Redge and me. Either way, only I would decide who I was, what I would become. With every sketch I made. With every decision, every movement, every day.

  acknowledgements

  A writer may work alone day after day, but a book is the combined effort of many. During the writing of this book, Karen Rankin read the manuscript more than once with a careful eye. Many others also gave valuable feedback at various stages, including Peter Carver, Rosemary Hood, Rick Lord, Cheryl Rainfield, Trudee Romanek, and Kathy Stinson. At Second Story Press, Margie Wolfe, Laura McCurdy, and the rest of the staff offered continued support and encouragement. Editor Kathryn Cole was insightful, sensitive, and a pleasure to work with. The Canada Council for the Arts and the City of Toronto through the Toronto Arts Council provided financial support. And my family — Kevin, Paige, and Tess — endured the trials and celebrated the joys with me. Thanks to all for sharing the journey.