by JM Butcher
“He said you didn’t know,” I say.
“I find out things, Maggie. That’s why you are with me now and not with the psycho couple.”
“How can killing a bunch of Unfavorables get back at his dad?” I ask.
“You’ll have to ask him that,” Jack answers, “but hopefully you will not see him again. And you won’t if I have anything to say about it. Let’s leave it at that.” I’m content with his answer. And I agree—I hope I never see Hayden again.
We enter the vehicle. Gia sits shotgun, the only seat in the van except for the driver’s. The rest of the van has been stripped. That’s okay with me. I’m emotionally, spiritually, and physically drained, and I need to lie down. The torn base rug is plenty enough for me to crash on.
“Do we need to drug her?” Gia asks, surely worried my chip will lead Hayden to us.
“Nah,” Jack says. “As long as she doesn’t know where we’re going we’ll be fine. And she looks about passed out already. We’re good.” Jack’s lack of formality surprises me. I guess when your best friend betrays you, some things will change.
“Hey, Jack,” I mutter as my eyes give in and start to close. “Where are Lexa and Tyler?” I’d say Ronnie, too, but I know he’s somewhere in the South by now.
“On our way to see them,” Jack says.
“Melli…” I whisper. “Where’s Grant?”
“He’s saving his brother.” Melli rubs my head.
“Jack, Jack,” I speak with a quiet voice. “The fire. How’d they put the fire out?
I don’t hear his answer. He probably didn’t hear me.
Forgetting what I even asked, I think about Olivia’s shirt. A fire inside. I know that feeling. All Unfavorables do. The pain igniting and feeding the fire.
Water on water to put out the river fire? Pain on pain to smother the fire inside me?
Maybe it’s not a fire. Maybe it’s life disguised as fire. A life struggling to emerge. Pain on pain would smother life. It would kill life.
I choose life.
Chapter 21
Feed 66:
Update: The bird flew away. I need your help. Now.
If you plan to betray me, you better hope you get to her first. Eh…if you do betray me, it’s probably too late to matter, anyway.
I will get to her first.
Oh, and if J.A.K. is on this feed, watch yourself. I’m coming for you.
You can tell him that, Tara. Oops…did I say your name? Ha!
Out.
Anonymous, 15 October 2040
A popping sound followed by a second of being airborne wakes me up. My head slams into the floor of the van before I can brace myself. If anyone else was asleep, Jack’s driving woke them up, too.
“What the hell, Jack,” Melli squeals in tune with the tires as the van spins one hundred and eighty degrees before coming to a screeching halt.
Fortunately for me, when I’m tossed across around, I fly into Olivia instead of the door. Her moan shows that she’s not as grateful as I am.
“Sorry,” I say. “And thanks.”
“No problem,” Olivia grunts and rolls her shoulder to check if it’s still in its socket. She appears to be fine.
Melli holds her head, which must have hit something. Maybe the roof. Gia, on the other hand, is buckled up safely in the passenger’s seat.
Before anyone has the chance to criticize Jack’s driving, he slams the door and is outside the vehicle. A few kicks rattle the van a little bit, but Jack’s cursing is a sign that he lost the battle.
“What happened?” Melli asks.
“Johnny sucks at driving,” Gia answers. “He doesn’t know how to look for potholes.”
The driver’s door opens. “Get out of the van,” Jack orders. “Flat tire. We’re walking.”
“Come on, Johnny,” Gia pleads, “make one of them change the damn tire.” She lays her head back as if she’s ready to go back to sleep. Although Gia’s lazy butt should be the one to fix the tire, I share her opinion that driving sounds much better than walking. I could use some more rest.
“No time,” Jack says. “Come on. If Hayden isn’t on our tail, he sent in a tip to the authorities about a stolen u-Net van.” He looks at me and jokes, “The downside of being able to think, huh?” Jack joking around? He’s lost it.
That’s true. It is naïve to believe that Hayden and Makayla aren’t monitoring my thoughts, especially if Mother’s on the lookout. The fact that it’s been dark and I noticed the writing on the van is all they need to start some sort of search. They should’ve drugged me.
Jack tries to rally the troops. “Come on, girls! We can do it. It’s not far.” He claps his hands as if his motivational speech is working. Begrudgingly, everyone exits the vehicle. It’s not only the tire that was damaged; the rim itself is holding on by the last bolt. Jack sure knows how to pick the potholes he drives over.
“What’s the point?” Gia asks. “If anyone finds the van, they’ll know we’re close.”
Jack spins around with his arms spread out like an eagle’s wings. “Look where we are. The middle of bum effin’ Egypt.” He stops spinning and points at me. “Make sure you record that, Maggie. Egypt, Egypt, Egypt. Let it soar through your head. Hayden might be dumb enough to fly to Africa.”
I laugh at Jack’s poor attempt to lighten the mood here. As much as I can’t stand him, it’s hard not to be amused by his endless positivity. And I guess he did save us, so the least I can do is validate his effort. Nobody else feels the need to do so, and I can’t blame them for that.
“Drug her,” Gia says. “Otherwise, we’re screwed.”
“Nah,” Jack replies. He tosses a sack at me. “Put that over your head. The sun will be up soon, I think, but that’ll at least keep you in the dark about our whereabouts. Ha, dark. That pun was intended. Get it?”
“Yeah, yeah, ya freakin’ yahoo,” Olivia says. “It’s not funny if you have to explain it.”
Melli adds, “That had no chance of ever being funny.”
“That’s the spirit!” Jack exclaims. “Come on!”
Before I put the sack on my head, I take a moment to breathe in the country air and to listen to the chirping crickets. I can tell we’re in the western part of the state based on the plains. Eastern Ohio is prettier overall with its hills. But the stars lighting the sky are more beautiful than anything that all of the Union can offer.
I take one last breath and put the sack over my head so that I’ll have no idea where we’re going. This is the safest way without drugging me. The chip doesn’t stop when it’s inconvenient. I appreciate that Jack doesn’t knock me out. The whole drugging thing is getting old. And even with the sack on, I can still hear the crickets.
“Hop to it, y’all!” Jack says. “Don’t get lost in darkness, Maggie.”
“Ugh, shuuut uuup. You’re not funny,” someone says. It could’ve been any of the girls.
His jokes are awful, but are refreshing. Every time I’ve encountered him, Jack’s been heavily focused on a task at hand. Always serious, with an agenda. It’s kind of relieving to see that he’s got a little personality, even if it’s only because he’s been betrayed by his best friend and feels powerless. Hayden betrayed me too, but I’ve only known him for a few days. Jack grew up with him.
The more I think about it, the more I grasp the fact I don’t know Hayden at all. I never did. I let my vulnerability and desperation get the best of me. There should be a warning label on the meds: IF YOU STOP THE PILLS, AVOID SOCIOPATHIC BOYS FOR AT LEAST TWO MONTHS.
I hate Hayden, but I don’t blame him for taking advantage of me. He’s obviously a sick, sick kid who gets off by reeling people in so that he can gut them for dinner. Poor Makayla. She’s next.
I hope she’s reading these night thoughts.
I’m at fault. I blame myself for not seeing who he really is. I’m horrible at reading people, but I didn’t even try. That’s what I blame myself for. For not thinking for myself during all of this. For f
orgetting about Dad and what advice he’d give me. Blaming Hayden would mean fueling his flaming ego even more. I’m done with the fire on fire mantra.
But where does Mother fit into all of this? I’m a valuable asset, but why? Because of the Gordon name? Because she wants her legacy to carry on through her daughter?
I can’t be sure that Mother intended for the JUH kids to get hurt. Her speech, while certainly meaning to agitate, didn’t specifically mention a Home. Hayden and Makayla tampered with that. They could’ve gone off script.
If that’s the case, Hayden’s bargaining chip is on the run. That means he will want to find me as quickly as possible. Before she does.
All I really know– and even if this is according to Jack and Hayden–is that Mother hand-selected me. I can’t be positive about why. I’ll ask Jack about it tomorrow when it’s light outside, but I’m not going to trust him at his word. It’s time for me to trust myself.
It’s time for me to find out for myself who Mother is.
I hope you’re reading this, Mother.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been walking, but I’m ready to be wherever we’re going. It’s not that I’m too worn out. The nap in the van rejuvenated me some. I can’t wait to be there, because I’m anxious to see Tyler and Lexa.
How’s Tyler been doing? I worry about him. He’s a strong kid, though, and if he’s been with Lexa and Melli, he’s fine. Ha. He’s probably loving his alone time with Lexa. Not that he’d wish harm on Ronnie, but I’m sure Tyler’s taking advantage of the circumstances. He’s a sneaky little brat.
I hope they gave him a change of clothes! That disgusting white shirt and those ripped jeans he was wearing when I watched Jack’s hologram recording. Hopefully, the girls have taught him that it’s not okay to go days without bathing and changing clothes. Dad failed to teach him that.
Like I should talk. I’m absolutely grotesque right now after bathing in the Cuyahoga.
Dad. Is Dad okay? I’ve gotten so wrapped up into this thinking thing and this resistance thing and this Hayden thing that I’ve forgotten about Dad. No, I didn’t forget. But I’ve let myself become distracted.
Have I had any other choice?
Dad might be disappointed at some of the choices I’ve made so far, but I’m sure he’s proud of me. If I allowed grief to swallow me whole, I wouldn’t have survived. He was proud I stopped T-Blox. He’d be proud I took pity on Leon. That’s just who he is. He’d be proud of me now.
I know it.
Time to shut off my brain, before I get emotional or give Hayden or Mother or even the authorities any more ammunition.
Don’t think, Maggie. Just walk. Just breathe.
Chapter 22
This is J.A.K. coming to you. All YRL: tune to emergency feed. Original feed might be compromised. Tune to emergency feed.
Feed: 54
Operation was a success. We’ll be heading to SW base. Please inform Tent 12.
Be there by dawn.
J.A.K. out.
Anonymous, 16 October, 2040
Not until we arrive at our destination does Jack permit me to remove the sack. Once my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight, I’m introduced to a world completely foreign to me. It’s a large plain surrounded by trees—some oaks and some pines. Scattered throughout the flat, grassy area are dozens of tents and hundreds of people. The place is like a commune. No, more like a historical village site.
The tents are huge. They’re bigger than the cabins we stayed in during sixth-grade outdoor education. I bet two families could survive inside of one of these shelters, as long as fights wouldn’t break out with that many people in one place. But these people appear to be calm, happy, and friendly.
“Ya bring us to a hipster fest, Johnny?” Gia asks.
The hipster movement supposedly began during the first two decades of the twenty-first century. According to Ms. Tatum, it’s a knockoff of the 1970s hippie movement. Across the republics, the common assumption is that hipsters act like they care about social progress, but really just hijack movements for attention.
“Yeah, Gia,” Jack answers. “We made it to California overnight.”
There aren’t many hipsters in the Union. Most migrated to California during the Stanton years. And since California acts like it’s independent—so liberal that nobody has to leave—the joke is that it doesn’t have citizens; it has hipsters.
Olivia says, “Gia, you better take out your nose ring. These grass lickers aren’t too fond of body mutilation.” She obviously is joking; everyone here who is old enough has a tattoo.
I don’t know much about hipsters, but I know enough to play along. I say, “That’s only if you pierce an animal’s nose. Rhino-ring is just the name. Now, if she pierced a rhino’s nose, then Gia might be in trouble.”
I expect to hear crickets after my lame joke, but everyone bursts out laughing. They’re amused that I actually have a sense of humor right now. Even Gia looks happy to see that I’m not completely broken yet.
“That’s my girl,” Gia says. Our escape from Hayden created a bond between Gia and me. We both could’ve died. I saved her and she saved me. Time will tell if our relationship stays amicable.
I refocus on the group. Gia asks, “But Johnny, if this is a hipster haven, where’s the music?”
“Wait until night,” Jack says. “But I promise, these people aren’t fakes. They will put their lives on the line if necessary.” He smiles proudly at the sight of his people.
“Jack…” I say.
“Tent 12.” He reads my mind. “Go say hi, get in your hugs and kisses. And cry a little. Come find me before dark if you want to talk. I know you’re still looking for answers.”
Melli and Olivia stay back when I begin my hunt for Tent 12. They had their reunion with me and want to give me space to reunite with Tyler and Lexa. As I move through the grounds, people wave and nod as I go by. I’m sure they all know I’m the Girl with No Thoughts, but they don’t act weird like everyone back at the compound.
I appreciate the diversity here. Like the compound, the beautiful array of people—so many colors and different backgrounds—is remarkable. The age range is much wider, though. The teen through twenties population makes up the majority. There are also little kids and middle-aged adults. I’m a little surprised to see so many cleared people who support the Youth Rebel League.
Tent 12 couldn’t be in a more obscure location. It resides in the southwest corner of the camp. Actually, beyond the southwest corner. There’s Tent 20. Then, there’s a large group of trees. Tent 12 hides behind them. It’s as if someone was trying to conceal it.
Lexa spots me crossing through the trees, and she calls into the tent. Tyler sprints out, almost tripping on a couple of roots, and tackles me to the ground. The back of my head bounces off of a hard dirt spot, but I’m too excited to notice any sort of pain.
“Margie! Margie!” Tyler buries his head into my jacket. I can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying. It’s one of the two. They both sound the same coming from him.
Rubbing Tyler’s greasy hair, I say, “It’s good to see you too, Ty-Ty.” I hold him close to me.
Tyler jumps back, holding his nose. “You freakin’ reek, Margie.” He wipes away tears from his cheeks. He was crying after all. “Go get a shower.”
“‘Freakin?’” I reply. “Watch your language, mister.” I say hoping he’ll crack a smile.
“No, Margie, it’s, ‘Tyler! Language!’ That’s how Dad says it.” Instead of smiling, Tyler turns to the side. It’s too soon to bring up Dad-isms.
“He’s been hanging out with Livvy too much,” Lexa says, walking over to us.
“No lie,” I laugh. “She’s not a bad one to hang out with, though.”
“Thank God you’re okay, Maggie.” Lexa helps me up and gives me a hug. “Dude, you do stink, but I still love you.”
“Yeah,” I say, “well, there was a river incident. The Cuyahoga River isn’t the bluest water you’ve ever seen. I don�
��t recommend taking a swim in there for a while.” I wipe dirt off of my sleeves.
“Dad’s gone,” Tyler randomly blurts out.
My eyes widen. “Yeah, Tyler, I know.” I wish I said something else. Nothing seems appropriate. There’s no point in softening the blow and telling Tyler that everything will be okay. “I know.”
“Jack says the Gray Coats got him,” Tyler says. “He’s probably dead.”
Dead? It hasn’t kicked in for me yet that he might be dead. I don’t know if it’s because of my emotional disconnect, or because things were too hectic at the compound to take a moment for myself. I’m not going to force it. Tyler and I can do our mourning together when the time is right, once we know for sure.
Lexa breaks up the few seconds of awkward silence. “Come inside and talk for a minute. Then, we need to get you a shower. And dude, burn that awful outfit, too.” Lexa puts her arm around me and leads the way.
The inside of the tent is bare. There’s a red cooler, a few sleeping bags spread out, and piles of unfolded clothes stacked up. Nothing else. The tents look much bigger from the outside.
Tyler points at the sleeping bags. “Can you believe it, Margie? They wouldn’t give Lexa and me our own honeymoon tent.” It’s refreshing to see Tyler’s sense of humor return so quickly.
While I force a chuckle, Lexa says, “He was pushing for that the whole way here. The kid will never learn.”
“Whatevz,” Tyler replies. “Until Roxa is back up and running, it’s Tyxa.” He waggles his eyebrows, like he thinks he’s smooth.
Lexa rubs his head. “That won’t be too long,” she says.
“Wait!” I exclaim. “You found Ronnie? And he’s okay?”
“Well,” Lexa says, “Jack said that Ronnie is somewhere in Florida. Near Orlando, I think. He’s safe, I guess, but I’m not sure what sort of place he’s living in down there.”