Fugitive X (14 page)

She was crying quietly when the two boys and two girls appeared from the north, rounding a bend in the road. She scrambled to her feet and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. The taller boy yelled her name—how did he know her name?—and began running toward her. Cass took a step back, fighting her instinct to run. She stood her ground. The robots had told her to stay. The boy—almost a man, she could see now, but not quite—rushed up to her, grinning wildly, and grabbed her. Cass froze in fear, then shoved him away. The grin on the boy’s face crashed, and he went white and looked like he might cry.

“Cass?” he said.

“Who are you?” she said. “What do you want?” There was something about him that tickled at her, like he was someone that she had seen on the street all the time but never paid attention to, but she couldn’t quite figure it out.

“It’s Nick,” he said. He squatted down, putting his forearms on his thighs, and looked down at the ground. “Cass, what did they do to you?”

The other boy, shorter than Nick, his hair wild and dirty around his face, reached a hand out and touched
Cass’s shoulder. “Cass?” he said. “Are you okay?”

Cass shrugged out from under the boy’s hand and took a step back. “I don’t know you,” she said. What was happening here? Who were these people? Was this part of the Advisors’ plan? Cass was feeling flushed and dizzy. Did they really know her?

One of the girls stepped toward her, slowly, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Cass, I’m Lexi. This is Farryn. We’re your friends. And Nick is your brother.”

The words hit Cass like a physical blow. “I don’t have a brother,” she whispered.

“I’m your brother,” said Nick, standing up. His fists were clenched. “And you have another brother. His name is Kevin. The damned bots took your memory away.”

Cass shook her head. “I have a sister. A younger sister.”

“A sister?” said Nick. “No, the bots placed you in a family, maybe, but they’re not really yours—”

“They
are
mine!” Cass shouted. “They’re my real mom and dad, and my real sister, and I should have had my whole life with them but I was stolen by some damned dirty freemen and forced to live in the woods! And I finally get home and now they’re taken away from me again!” She clenched her fists in anger.

Nick just stood there, staring at her, seemingly at a loss for words.

The other girl, the one who hadn’t been introduced to her,
spoke up. “We’ve gotta get moving,” she said. “We can’t just stand here in the road. This smells like a trap.”

Nick nodded. “Come on, Cass,” he said, and took hold of her arm.

Cass yanked her arm free and backed away from him. “The robots told me to wait here and be collected. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Cass, we’ve got to get out of here!” Nick said.

Cass shook her head no, feeling panic rising up. They wanted to take her away from the City, back into the woods. . . .

“Cass,” said Lexi, calmly, soothingly, “the bots left you out here?”

Cass nodded.

“And they took out your chip implant?” she said, tapping on the back of her neck, then pointing at the gauze on Cass’s neck.

Cass nodded again, thinking of the operating table, cold on her naked back, and of the jab of the needle in her arm. “Yes,” she said.

“Cass,” Lexi continued, “I don’t understand this, but the bots want you to go. They want you to leave. We’re here to collect you.” She took a step toward Cass and held out her hand. “Come on, we do have to go. It’ll be okay.”

Cass couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. The robots had taken her chip out. They had taken her family away. They
had thrown her out of Hightown and left her alone on the side of a road in the woods. They didn’t want her anymore. They were rejecting her. Her heart breaking, Cass took Lexi’s hand and let herself be led away from her City.

KEVIN LAY IN HIS BUNK, LISTENING TO OTTER’S LIGHT SNORING
, staring at the dark shadows on the ceiling from the moonlight filtering in through the window. He had found Dr. Miles Winston. He was brilliant, but he was a coward. He wasn’t going to help them.

All he wanted to do was dig a hole to hide in. And he wanted to force Kevin to live in that hole with him.

It was time for Kevin to get out of the Island. He had to get back to his brother and sister somehow. He had to figure out how to help his parents. He jumped out of bed and began pacing up and down the line of bunks, filled with too much energy and anger to lie still. He stubbed his toe on the foot of a bed and yelped and cursed, hopping on one foot.

Cort laid a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “You okay?” he said.

Kevin jumped away from Cort, tripping over a bedframe and landing on the mattress. How did Cort move so quietly? He sat up. Cort was making a strange muffled sound, his hand over his mouth, and it took Kevin a moment to realize that Cort was trying to stifle laughter.

“Funny,” Kevin said. “Hilarious.”

“Yeah, it kinda is,” Cort said. Kevin could see Cort’s teeth in the moonlight as he smiled. After a few moments Cort’s smile faded. “But it won’t be very funny if you wake up Otter,” he said. “Grumpy bastard likes his sleep. If you gotta be awake, do it quietly. And stop banging into things.”

Kevin walked back to his bunk and sat down. Cort began to walk back to his own bed. “What’s your story, Cort?” Kevin said, to Cort’s back. “What are you doing here? Don’t you want to leave?”

Cort stopped walking, then turned and walked slowly toward Kevin. “There’s nowhere else for me to go,” he said quietly.

“What happened to your family?” Kevin said.

Cort stared at Kevin, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “Go to sleep.”

“Was it the bots? Is that how you got your scar?” said Kevin.

Cort hesitated, then took a few silent, quick steps toward Kevin. “Of course it was the bots,” he said, angrily, but barely
loud enough for Kevin to hear. “They killed my parents and my sister. Even my cat. And lased me and left me for dead. Any other stupid questions?”

Kevin had a million more questions, but he knew Cort didn’t want to hear them, so he just shook his head and said, “I’m sorry.”

Cort nodded, then padded back to his bed.

Kevin lay back down on his bunk and resumed his study of the dark ceiling. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight. . . .

Otter’s hand on his shoulder shook Kevin roughly awake. He opened his eyes and blinked at the sunlight coming in through the window above his bunk. “Clown’s here,” he said.

Kevin sat up. 23 was standing near the doorway, in a patch of light that shined on its face, highlighting the paleness of the patchy neo-plastic. “Rise and eat breakfast,” it said. “Be at the repair facility in a half hour.”

Kevin groaned and lay back down. He was exhausted; he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

“Do not be late,” said 23. “There is much to accomplish today.” The robot turned and left the dorm.

“Yeah, fine, half hour,” said Kevin. He thought about just going back to sleep. What would happen if he refused to work? Reluctantly, he pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. Going on strike didn’t seem like a good idea, now that the Governor’s “hands-off” policy—which still didn’t make
sense to him—was rescinded. And more importantly, he wasn’t going to find a way to escape by lying in bed.

After breakfast, Otter, Cort, and Pil headed for the Wall gap, and Kevin went to the tech shed, where 23 was waiting for him outside. It opened the door when Kevin approached, and Kevin entered the workshop. The bot followed, shutting the door behind it. The lightstrips flicked on automatically.

“Today you will begin work on Wall technology,” said 23. It gestured to a chair and workbench. “Sit. I will collect your materials.”

Kevin didn’t move. “So what were you, before the Governor patched you up? Were you around during the Revolution? Did you kill any people?”

23 looked at Kevin with its expressionless face. “I have never killed a person. I was constructed after the Revolution.”

“What about the leather patches?” continued Kevin. “Can you feel it when I touch them?” Kevin reached out toward 23’s face. 23 quickly stepped back and slapped Kevin’s hand away, hard enough to sting.

“Ouch!” said Kevin, shaking his hand.

“Your actions can be interpreted as aggressive,” said 23. “Be careful. Other robots may not show my restraint.”

“Yeah, thanks, I guess,” said Kevin, still holding his stinging hand. He nodded at the robot’s face. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“It is not relevant.”

“It interests me,” said Kevin. “I’m supposed to be learning, right?”

“The sensors are less sophisticated in the organic sections of my epidermis, as opposed to the neo-plastic for which I was originally designed,” said 23. “The organic patching contains basic pressure sensing but no higher environmental gauges, such as temperature or moisture.”

“Do you feel pain?” said Kevin. “I mean, anywhere? The neo-plastic or the leather?”

“We must focus on the assigned task,” said 23. It turned away and walked to the back of the room, disappearing behind a shelf. It returned a few moments later holding a coil of conduction line and a connection hub, which it set on the worktable in front of Kevin. “Wall cabling,” it said. “You may already recognize the material from your work at the Wall.”

“Yeah,” said Kevin. “So what exactly is it that the Wall’s conducting? Is the cloaking just an electrical field of some sort? What’s the power supply? How’s it controlled?”

“We will not be discussing the details of the Wall technology in depth,” said 23. “You have not been granted clearance.”

“Then what?” said Kevin. “What am I supposed to learn?”

“Begin with the connection hub,” said 23. “Thread the cable into the hub and lock it.”

Kevin had watched the men on the Wall enough to know that it was mostly a matter of brute force and leverage. He began wrestling with the connection, standing above it,
pushing down onto it with all his strength, and finally he felt one cable snap into place. “This’ll be easier if the hub is clamped,” he said. “Let me grab a vise.” He stood quickly and began walking to the back shelves, expecting 23 to stop him, but the bot remained silent. In the back of the room, he reached down and grabbed a magnetic table clamp from a low shelf, then, quickly, keeping his back facing 23, he snatched a small laser solder—the size and shape of a large pencil—and slipped it into the pocket of his pants.

He tried to walk back to the table in a way that hid the small bulge of the laser solder, then realized he was walking with an odd little shuffling limp and forced himself to walk normally. He quickly sat down. 23 said nothing.

Kevin spent all morning familiarizing himself with connection hubs and conduction wire, even though after fifteen minutes he had learned all there was to learn, or at least all that 23 was willing to show him. After lunch, he returned to the work team at the Wall. Pil nodded at him in greeting, while Otter and Cort and the adults ignored him. He got to work on the lumber pile.

He waited patiently for the right time, and after an hour it finally came—the other boys had paused for a water break, the men were distracted, arguing over the cable layout, and the woman at the table planer was focused on her work. With his back to the woman and boys, he quickly pulled the small laser solder out of his pocket and set it down on a flat plank of wood.
He leaned over it with the hand laser planer—if anybody looked at him, hopefully they’d think he was just stripping wood—and very carefully, with a quick burst of the lase, he removed a thin flap of metal from the back of the soldering tool, up by the tip. Kevin knelt down on one knee to get a closer look, peering into the solder—yes, there it was, the regulating coil. He carefully grabbed the small coil between his thumb and forefinger and yanked it out, then stuffed the soldering tool back into his pocket and resumed stripping the wood.

Without the regulating coil, the little soldering tool would release its full supply of energy in one burst. It would only be good for one quick pulse and then the tool would be dead, but that one burst of energy would hurt a person badly enough to stop him. Maybe even kill him. And hopefully it would even be enough to slow down a bot. Of course, there was also a chance that the tool wouldn’t be able to channel that much energy through its small tip when he triggered it, and it would just explode in his hand—but he didn’t let himself dwell on that. He’d use it only if he had to. He was leaving the Island, tonight if possible, and the makeshift weapon would be a bit of insurance.

That night, Kevin lay awake, listening to the steady breathing of Pil and Cort, and the light snoring of Otter. He slipped out of bed, pulled on his clothes and boots, patted his pants pocket to make sure his homemade weapon was still there, and then tiptoed toward the door. A hand grabbed his shoulder,
and he spun around, somehow managing to not yell out in surprise. It was Cort.

“How the hell are you so quiet?” whispered Kevin.

“Where you going?” said Cort.

“Nowhere,” said Kevin. He shrugged. “For a walk. Can’t sleep.”

“That’s not allowed,” Cort said.

Kevin hesitated. He didn’t want to wait another night; he had to get out now and find his brother and sister. But if Cort was going to turn him in . . . “Look, Cort, I won’t be gone long . . .”

“It’s safe in the Island,” Cort said. “It’s not perfect, but the bots won’t get you here, and it’s three meals a day and a bunk to sleep in.”

“My family is still alive, Cort,” Kevin said. “I have to find them.”

“You won’t make it out,” Cort said. “Even if you do get out of the Island, you don’t know where you’re going.”

Kevin didn’t say anything.

Cort shook his head, then shrugged. “Good luck,” he said. “Try climbing the hill at the Wall gap. It’ll be less guarded than the gates.”

“Thanks, Cort,” Kevin said. He held his hand out, and he and Cort shook hands awkwardly.

“Your funeral,” said Cort. “Don’t thank me.” Cort shook his head one more time, then went back to his bed.

Kevin slipped out the door and shut it carefully behind him. He leaned against the dorm wall, peering out at the settlement, taking stock. It was a clear night, but a crescent moon, so the moonlight was very faint. He saw no movement in the gloom and heard no noise. He began heading toward the Wall gap, moving from building to building, ready to hide behind the walls if he saw anyone. Cort was right—the gap would be his best bet, even though the steep hill, almost a cliff face, wouldn’t be easy to climb. Especially in the dark. But the gateways, with their guard posts, would be too hard to get past.