“What kind of mutations?” Big Ed asks.
“Reject clones.” Mason creases his brow. “Deviations they call them. That’s why the Sweepers are extracting unvaccinated survivors. They need their pure DNA. Without it, the cloning project dies, and with it, their system of replenishing humankind.”
For a few minutes, we sit in stunned silence. I take some comfort from knowing the Sweepers are human at least. It beats some of the rumors going around. “So, they won’t kill Jakob?” I ask, my heart racing.
Mason grimaces. “Not if he cooperates. Otherwise he’s … well, let’s just say he’s spare parts as far as they’re concerned.”
A shiver runs down my spine. I can’t imagine Jakob doing anything other than resisting being cloned. “How do we find him?”
Mason tosses his stick and runs his fingers the length of his jaw. “That's the easy part. It’s getting into the Craniopolis undetected that’s the problem.”
“There must be a way,” I say, rubbing my brow. “If the Sweepers had extracted me, Jakob would stop at nothing to get inside.”
Mason squares his shoulders. “There aren’t enough of us to overpower the security guards.”
I pick up Mason’s stick and trace a large question mark in the dirt with it. “There is one option worth considering.”
Mason frowns. “What’s that?”
“We enlist the killing machines to help.”
Chapter 8
“Ask the Rogues to help?” Mason stares at me as if I’m foaming at the mouth.
Big Ed shakes his head. “You saw what they did to Reid and Becca.”
“Because Reid and Becca were ratting them out,” I say. “The Rogues want to find a way to end the extractions as much as we do. With Mason’s help, we can lead them to the Craniopolis and let them do what they do best.”
Mason studies me, his eyes signaling something that tells me he thinks it’s possible.
“It all hinges on you convincing them of your story,” I say. “They already hate the world government. What you tell them will be more than enough to clinch the deal.”
Mason nods. “It’s worth a try.”
An eerie silence falls over us, broken only by the mellow whoo-whoo of an owl as it veers over us.
Mason pulls some jerky out of his pack and offers it around. I cram several chunks into my mouth and suck greedily on the beef flavor flooding my taste buds.
Big Ed looks at Mason curiously. “So how’d you escape?”
“I stowed away on a Sweeper ship—a Hovermedes.”
“Hover what?” I rumple my brow.
“Hovermedes. They’re named in honor of Archimedes, Dr. Lyong’s favorite engineer of old.”
“Never heard of him—Archimedes, I mean.” I dab my sleeve at some jerky juice on my lips.
Mason raises his brows. “Archimedes was a Greek physicist and inventor in the third century, considered by some to be the greatest mathematician of all time.”
“It’s not like we have school in the bunkers,” I say, defensively.
“Where is this ship you stowed away on?” Big Ed asks.
“It’s hidden in the brush a few miles east of our bunker.”
Big Ed combs his fingers through his beard and scrutinizes Mason. “It's been there this whole time?”
My pulse races as the import of his words sinks in. If Mason had told us about the ship, we could have used it to fight the extractions. Jakob might still be here. Owen too. “You traitor!” I yell. “You said you hated the Sweepers, but all this time you had that ship hidden and you did nothing to help us.”
I breathe slowly in and out, long shallow breaths that do nothing to satisfy me. I’m sick to my stomach. Mason passed himself off as one of us, ate our food, slept in our bunkers. All the while he knew exactly who the Sweepers were, what they wanted, and where to find them.
I curl my fingernails into my palms until my skin is throbbing. Every fiber of me longs to throw myself at Mason and tear his eyes out. I clench my fists tighter. First, I need him to take me to the Sweepers. And then I’ll have my revenge.
I scramble to my feet and reach for my pack. “We can still catch the Rogues if we hurry. If Mason can convince them to come with us, we’ll go back for the Hovermedes.” I narrow my eyes at Mason, daring him to challenge me. If he dies trying to reason with those butchers, it will be one less problem for me to deal with later.
“Aren’t the Sweepers searching for you?” Big Ed asks, as he gets to his feet.
Mason shakes his head. “According to their records, my expiration date’s already come and gone.”
Big Ed frowns. “What’s that?”
“Lifespan is one element of the cloning process Lyong hasn’t mastered yet.” Mason lets out a heavy sigh. “Clones don’t live past twenty-five units. They simply keel over and expire. I faked my expiration, and a friend who works at the crematorium filed the report.” He sifts some pine needles through his fingers. “As far as the Sweepers are concerned I’m already a pile of ash.”
I stare at Mason, trying to mask the horror I’m sure is plastered all over my face. I’ve always guessed him to be in his early twenties, which puts him at death’s door in clone years. Ahead of Big Ed. But I want to know for sure. “How old are you?”
“They don’t let us access our inception records. Some things are best kept even from ourselves.” He flings the pine needles over our heads into the brush and stands. “We need to get across that river.”
I stare at Mason for another long moment, then reach for my rifle and swing my pack over my shoulder. Inception. Expiration. It’s like he’s a product with a shelf life. The whole thing sounds crazy, but there’s no time to second-guess his story if we have any hope of saving Owen and Jakob. For now, we’ll have to take our chances and trust that he’s not leading us to the Sweepers for all the wrong reasons.
Mason steps back out on the trail and begins winding his way down the root-ridden path. Big Ed follows, and I fall in step behind them. Sweat beads on my forehead. Partly from the exertion, partly from the heart stopping thought that something unimaginable has happened to Jakob and Owen, and maybe even Tucker. I can’t imagine how Da is coping without us, but I can’t worry about him now too. I have to believe the Septites won’t let him starve.
Big Ed turns his head and eases up. “Doing okay?”
“Do you believe him?” I ask.
He works his jerky around his mouth for a minute. “There’s always been plenty done in secret by the sovereign leader.”
“So you really think Mason's a clone?”
He lets out a snort. “Beats anything I ever seen or heard. Messing with God’s creatures.”
“Clones are hardly God’s creatures. It’s creepy.” I flip my disheveled braid over my shoulder. “Tucker knew something was up. I don’t think clones have a scent he can pick up on.”
Big Ed takes off his spectacles and rubs the lenses on the end of his fleece shirt. “They ain’t just oil and spare parts.”
I twist my lips. “Might as well be if they’re all like Mason. He’s cold as steel.”
Big Ed’s face clouds over. “He’s one of God’s creatures until I know different.”
He turns around and stomps off after Mason. I step over a pile of elk droppings and follow them down the trail, trying to sort through my tangled thoughts. I don’t care what Mason is, I hate him. He deceived us all. I blame him for what happened to Jakob, and he deserves to pay. I can’t help thinking about the hunting knife Big Ed pinned to Mason’s throat earlier. Everyone has a breaking point. It’s only a question of who reaches it first.
I scramble and slip my way down the last few hundred feet, coming to an abrupt halt on a narrow ledge. Big Ed shines his flashlight around. “Trail’s washed out from here on down.”
I slide my pack off my aching shoulders and elbow past Big Ed and Mason. Cautiously, I peer down at the snarling river beneath us.
“Which way did the Rogues go?” I ask.
&n
bsp; “Must have gone across the catwalk.” Big Ed flicks his jaundiced light onto the face of a granite cliff forty feet above the torrent. A series of long poles, lashed together with wire, extend some sixty feet across the bare wall to the other side of the river.
“Mountain men put this contraption up years ago, so they could cross the river all year round.” He shines the light farther up the rock face. “They drilled pegs into the rock as anchor points to support the poles, and there’s a hand cable up above.”
I stretch my neck out and study the steel cable looped between the pegs in the slick, jagged wall, scraped clean of vegetation. The gooseflesh inverts on my skin. The only way across is to shuffle sideways on the poles, clinging to the cable, forty feet above the treacherous spray. One misstep, and we’ll splatter on the rocks like overripe watermelons.
Mason pushes past me and stares, bug-eyed, at the poles lashed together like cooked spaghetti across the wet granite. A nerve twitches in his cheek. I’ve never known him to be afraid of anything, but I swear it’s fear I see now in his taut features.
“What are you waiting for?” I prod him in the spine.
He swings around and glares at me. “I hate heights.”
“Sucks for you.” I brush past him, oddly charged by his admission, and make my way out to the edge of the ledge.
Big Ed lays a restraining hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go first. Trust the tension in the hand cable, ’cause it’s gonna feel like you’re tumbling backward with your pack ripping out your shoulder blades. I watched a man fall from here once. River washed him away like fish guts.”
I shudder.
“Ready?” Big Ed looks pointedly at Mason.
He scowls. “After you old timer.”
I reach for the strap of Mason’s pack and yank it hard. “Show some respect, traitor.”
A dark look flits across Mason’s face. He may be built like a bison, but I’m convinced his heart’s hollow.
“Keep at least five feet apart,” Big Ed shouts over his shoulder. “If one of us goes in, we don’t want the next one getting pulled down too.” He reaches above his head, grabs the cable, and steps carefully onto the poles. He adjusts his stance and the tension in the cable tightens. He edges farther out onto the poles, his leather gloves clinging to the cable above him in a death grip.
Mason watches intently, arms barred across his chest as Big Ed inches his way along. When he’s close to five feet across, he yells at me to go next. I shift my pack and glance hesitantly at the ramshackle pole bridge. The slightest shift of the load on my back could send me hurtling into the foaming whirlpools below. I take a steadying breath and reach out to grab the cable. An icy mist sprays my face and I shiver. I slide my feet across the poles and keep my eyes firmly fixed on Big Ed. When I’m far enough out, Big Ed gestures at Mason to follow me.
Mason clenches his jaw and reaches for the hand cable. He moves tentatively onto the pole bridge, dragging each leg awkwardly behind him. I glance back and realize immediately he's in trouble. Only the toes of his enormous boots fit on the poles as he scrapes along, like a bear trying to balance on a clothesline. I hold my breath and watch for a few minutes as he struggles to shuffle across.
“Keep moving!” he barks. “Weren’t you listening to old man Ed?”
“Quit calling him that,” I shout back over the roar of the water. “He’s got a whole lot longer to live than you.”
Mason narrows his eyes at me, his fists bulging on the steel cable.
I look away, masking a grin. I’ve found an entry point of pain beneath his armor. He doesn’t want to die. I can taunt him all I want up here. There’s nothing he can do to me now, hampered by his hulking frame, and cursed by his odd fear of heights—apparently not something the cloning process took care of. There’s something intensely satisfying about this shift in the balance of power that stirs a twisted longing inside me for revenge. After what he did, endangering all of our lives with his lies, he doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
I stare at him until he feels my eyes boring into him, and directs his gaze toward me.
“Face it, Mason, if you’re really a clone you could expire at any minute.” I give a hollow laugh I barely recognize as my own. “Do us all a favor, why don’t you?”
His eyes flash a strange sequence of emotions like a train signal switching tracks.
I throw him a contemptuous grin that melts from my face when he pushes out from the rock face with his steel-toed boots and freefalls backward into the yawning watery darkness below.
Chapter 9
A yell rips up my throat but never makes it through my lips. I shoot my right hand out to grab him, but not quickly enough. My footing slips and I dangle from the cable, one-handed. My left hand fuses with the cable in one pulsating cramp. The roar of the water pounds in my ears. I struggle to drag myself back onto the pole bridge, my fingers flapping in vain for something to latch onto. My pack inches sideways and the muscles in my back scream for release as I try to pivot in toward the rock face. Panic rises up inside me. I know I can’t hold on much longer. The straps on my pack dig deep into my shoulders, cauterizing my nerves until I want nothing more than deliverance from the all-consuming pain.
A jaw-like grip on my right forearm yanks me upright and pins me against the granite wall. Big Ed’s wiry beard scuffs the back of my neck as he leans over me, heaving for breath. My right hand searches out the steel cable and locks onto it, my whole body shaking with terror and relief. I press my forehead against the cold, wet stone. For a moment, neither of us speaks. All I can think about are Mason’s flat eyes staring at me, like rocks lodged into his skull.
“You okay?” Big Ed gasps.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.
He tightens his grip on me. “What happened?”
“He … I tried to save him.”
“Dumb idea. He could have dragged you down with him.”
I glance beneath us at the rapids, shaken by a nightmarish image of Mason’s body thrashing around in the frenzied whirlpool.
Big Ed releases me and shuffles sideways a few steps. “We need to get off this bridge.”
Knees knocking, I drag myself mechanically along the poles after him. Mason’s stony stare drills further into my conscience with each step. What have I done? I wish Tucker were here so I could wrap my arms around him and know that in his eyes I can do no wrong.
Big Ed’s face relaxes when I finally step onto the trail on the other side of the gorge. He reaches out a hand to steady me, but I plough past him and dive into the brush, just in time to hurl the contents of my stomach.
He comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m sorry. It must have been rough for you watching him fall.”
Straightening up, I wipe the sleeve of my shirt across my mouth. I wish that were all I was struggling with. How can I tell him it was my fault?
“We need to find cover. It’s too exposed out here.” Big Ed turns and wades off into the undergrowth. I stumble after him, numb from what I’ve set in motion. I’ve blown the only real hope we had of rescuing Owen and Jakob. Without Mason to back us up, the Rogues will never believe our story. And none of us know how to fly a Hovermedes, so even finding the ship won’t help.
Big Ed’s silhouette melts into the distance and I break into a jog to catch up. The trail is trenched from snowmelt trickling down from the craggy peaks, heightening the risk of skidding on the slippery shale underfoot and hurtling downhill. My legs ache and I’m soaked through from the bone-chilling spray of the rapids.
I slow my pace once I spot Big Ed again, not wanting to give him the opportunity to prod me with any more questions. Guilt stabs at me razor-edged and deep. I wanted revenge, but not like this. What kind of monster am I? The briny tang of tears burns my eyeballs. I desperately need someone to tell me everything’s going to be all right, but the truth is, it’s not. It’s never going to be all right again. My stupidity might just have cost the lives of those I care for most.
After a mile or so, Big Ed veers off the trail and begins bushwhacking his way through dense alder thickets. I drag myself after him, barely able to keep up the pace, even though he’s doing all the work. Hopefully he's looking for a place to make camp. I can’t go much farther.
The moss-mantled ground beneath my boots squishes like an old mattress. Up ahead, Big Ed pauses at a blackened tree trunk. He ducks his head and disappears beneath the hollowed-out root system. When I catch up with him, he’s already undone his pack and pulled out his sleeping bag. My body sags with relief.
“We’ll rest here for a few hours,” he says, throwing me a concerned look.
I nod, breaking eye contact as I slide my pack from my throbbing shoulders. “I’ll look for some firewood.” I walk off before he can object.
I gather the driest pieces of wood I can find, then pull some dead bark for tinder and head back to the hollow where Big Ed has already fashioned a couple of brush beds over the pine needles and spread out our sleeping bags. He watches me intently while I place several small boulders in a circle and assemble the tinder and wood in the center. Big Ed can read anything from a moody sky to a guilty conscience. He’s biding his time, but I know he’s gonna hit me up again about what happened. And part of me wants him to.
He takes out his magnesium fire starter and scrapes it with the blade of his knife over the bark until the sparks take hold. “That should do her.” He rubs his hands together, his silver-framed glasses glinting in the glow of the quivering flames. “Got any water left?”
I shake my canteen. “Half full.”
He nods. “We can boil more for tomorrow. I’ll look for a stream in a bit.”
I rub my hands over my face and scoot back from the fire that’s getting hotter. Or maybe it’s just me burning up from shame.
“Do you want to talk about what happened to Mason?” he asks, after a few uncomfortable minutes of silence.
Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) Page 5