Nine-Tenths (19 page)

“Clearly you’re up to something,” Leonard said, smiling. “Why don’t you let me in on the secret?”

She jumped dramatically from her sitting position and, again, swept one hand over the empty trunk. Grinning, she climbed in and fiddled with the back corners. After about a minute, she unfolded the back wall and revealed a secret compartment containing two five-gallon containers, a couple of brownish-green sleeping bags rolled up very tightly, two backpacks, and a large empty section.

“For clothing and toiletries,” she explained. “The backpacks contain a couple of thermal hoodies my dad gave me before he left, as well as one water bottle each and water purifying packets. Also, I’ve been slowly draining our savings. A substantial amount is already sewn into the lining of the sleeping bags.” She pulled one hand through her hair and gazed upward. “I’m going to throw some fresh granola bars into the packs, and I’ve got a couple dozen MREs—”

“MREs?”

“Meals Ready to Eat.”

“Oh, right.”

“Damn, Leonard, you’re in the military.”

“I’m an engineer at a desk who eats limp sandwiches for lunch.”

“You may be missing those limp sandwiches one day.”

He chuckled, stooping to examine the setup. “I can’t believe you fit so much in there.”

Fiddling with the sides of the trunk, Alina uncovered two more compartments, much thinner, but lined with ready-to-eat, vacuum-sealed meals.

“Incredible,” Leonard whispered.

“I’ve got maps sewn under the inside layer of my purse for extra safe keeping. Bringing detailed maps on a day trip would flag us for sure. And I still need to get high-powered flashlights. Now that the Feds are confiscating lamps, flashlights are hard to come by.”

“How did you do all this?”

“There’s a guy in the Guilder Project named Max. He helps escapees with all kinds of issues. Smuggling compartments and forged IDs are his specialty.”

“He lives in the project?”

“Yeah. In fact we’ve been standing in the stairwell to his unit.”

Leonard nodded appreciatively. “That’s why you seemed to have a destination while we wandered.”

“I just know that building is relatively safe. You can never be entirely sure. I mean, he’s got neighbors and all, but I’d rather hang out there than on some random doorstep.”

“Makes sense.” He leaned into the trunk and inspected Max’s smuggling compartments.

“I’ve been parking the car around town per Max’s directions. His partner does the refitting in his garage. He fetched the car and returned it to a different place each time. Unfortunately, that used up gas rations, so it’s been tight. Usually, the locations were not too far out of the way, but I often snuck out in the late evening and bussed or walked home.”

“Quite an undertaking.”

“And expensive. Five-gallon containers are difficult to come by. Thankfully, they still allow camping at the reservoirs, so most of the camping supplies are available.”

“Why would we need ready-to-eat meals and water purifying packets if we’re only going to Grand Junction?”

“I don’t know the condition of the roads. And there’s always the chance we’ll have to ditch the car. These supplies would give us an opportunity to travel by foot, perhaps find a safe house.” She shrugged. “It’s by no means a guaranteed trip.”

“Do you know of any safe houses?”

“Max says there’s a guy still hanging around Lake Dillon, but he hasn’t spoken with him lately.”

“How would he speak to him?”

“Through a CR website or something…I don’t know.”

Leonard furrowed his brow. “So it’s a crapshoot all of this.” He indicated the trunk and the supplies.

She nodded, a sad expression on her face. “I often lay awake at night debating this whole idea. I’ve made all the arrangements, but I’ve never been sure I’d actually go through with it.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me?”

“I didn’t know what to think of you.”

“You weren’t planning on taking me with you.” Two sleeping rolls and two backpacks all but spelled it out.

Alina looked at the ground. She was silent for a moment. Then she shook her head slowly. “Not even Garrett. Natalia was the only one I trusted.”

“Uh-huh. And what about calling me the selfish bastard who wanted to build a time machine?”

Her head popped up. “You knew how I felt when you considered that idea.” She pointed at the car. “When I was working hard and sacrificing in order to make
this
happen, I had no clue if you’d squeal and blow the whole thing up in my face.”

“I’m sorry. I’d have done the same thing if I thought you were an informant.”

“Thank you.”

“But now the question is, is it worth it? Is the possibility worth the risk?”

“I have never been more resolute than I am now,” she said, a sense of urgency in her voice. “We have to get Natalia out of here before Friday.”

Leonard reviewed the events of the evening. Garrett screaming in the backyard. Natalia crying on the floor, tampons strewn in every direction. The concept of breeding a thirteen-year-old girl. Dizzy, he steadied himself against the car. “You’re right. It’s time.”

“Natalia’s birthday is Thursday. You both scheduled the day off.”

“And you?”

“I’ll call in sick. We’ll leave Thursday morning.”

“Is it really that easy? How will we make it past Idaho Springs?”

Alina’s eyes lit up. “I’ve already thought of that.” She carefully restored the inside of the trunk. “Correction, Max thought of that. Let me show you.” She slammed the trunk and took Leonard by the hand.

Once upstairs, she made for the attic door on the ceiling in the hallway. Realizing that she intended to retrieve the box, Leonard put his finger over his lips and ushered her to the bedroom.

“But—” she protested.

He nodded and continued to press his finger over his lips. He expected Alina to go thermonuclear the moment she understood that he had already found — and no less stolen — the box. As predicted, her eyes flew open in horror when Leonard produced the box from under the bed.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I meant to ask you about it yesterday.”

“I’m sure you did,” she grumbled.

“No, really. I found it when I was looking for my ID.”

After a moment, Alina appeared to accept his sincerity. She leaned across the bed and turned on the clock radio. Dumping the contents onto the bed, she fished out the passes.

“These will allow us — well, Natalia and I — to get beyond the checkpoint in Idaho Springs.” She pointed at the ID with her picture. “Says I’m a high-level security MD. I can travel freely to the infirmary. Natalia also has an alias and a minor’s pass.” Alina held up Natalia’s ID and a green slip of paper. “She can go if accompanied by an adult. This was very hard to come by.” She waved the green pass.

“How will I get through?”

“We need to go see Max tonight.”

“It’s past midnight.”

“He’ll let me in.”

“Oh, really?” Leonard raised one eyebrow.

Alina touched his hand. “It’s not like that. He knows me well, and he prefers to meet clients in his home between one and three in the morning. That’s when he can blare the television and no one will suspect he’s white-noising conversations.”

“I see.”

“He’s a lifesaver. Literally. Helped at least a hundred people escape and countless more dodge Watchers and avoid incarceration.”

An odd feeling swept over Leonard and he shuddered involuntarily. What was it? He gazed at Alina. She was glowing.
I’m jealous,
he acknowledged.
Alina’s taken with this Max character and I’m jealous.
For some reason the insight made him smile.

“What is it?” Alina asked.

“Nothing.”

“Shall we go then?” she whispered, standing up suddenly.

Leonard hesitated. A photo of his mother and father caught his eye. “Why are these photos in here?”

Alina’s face drooped. Sinking back down on the bed, she hastily gathered the family pictures into a stack.

“What’s wrong, Alina? Did we have a falling out with our parents?”

“No.”

“There’s not a single photo on any of the walls, and here is a box filled with pictures.”

“They just make me sad.”

“Why?”

“My parents had just moved to California and your parents are in Florida. But we haven’t spoken to them in a year. It’s too expensive.”

“We have cell phones.” He jumped up as if to make his way to the kitchen junk drawer. “Who cares if people listen to us talk with our parents? I’m sure they keep a low political profile.”

She pulled him back. “All long-distance is blocked. You can only make calls through a Federal Calling Center.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” Alina said. “I wish I was kidding about a lot of things.”

“How does that work? This Calling Center.”

“After you’ve purchased your coupon, you get put on a list. It can take up to three months. Eventually, they give you a date and you are to report to the Calling Center at 8:00 a.m.”

“How do the people you’re calling know when to expect the call?”

Alina closed her eyes. “They don’t. We don’t have enough time to write a letter. The mail service is notoriously slow…and no one has access to email anymore.”

“Where are you calling to? Our parents’ Federal Calling Center?”

“No. We can call them directly. But if they miss the call, we lose our money and our place in line.” She shrugged sadly.

“Oh.”

“So we agreed, via a series of letters that took a couple of months to go back and forth, to forego telephoning.”

“We’ll write then.”

“It’s not real though.”

“Nonsense. People used to love to write.”

Alina pulled him closer and whispered sharply in his ear. “Just like we cannot have a conversation in our own home, we cannot have a private mail discourse either. The Feds open everything. Everything is resealed and they are not at all subtle about it. I send the folks a photo of the kids every once in a while, but since I cannot talk about the things that matter inside my heart, the letters are simplistic and meaningless.”

“But at least you’re staying in touch—”

“I used to tell my mom everything. As my husband drifted away from me and my job became a nightmare, I had no one to share my feelings with.”

“So you took down your mother’s picture?”

“I feel like she’s dead. Like I can think of her as this ethereal entity, but I cannot communicate with her.” Alina stared at the bedside table. “So one day, I waltzed through the house, taking down photos. Sometimes it’s less painful to pretend you don’t have a family.”

“And I was okay with you taking down
my
parents’ photos?”

She looked at him, a lifeless expression in her eyes. “Leonard, I’m not sure you even noticed.”

He glanced away.

“Anyway,” Alina continued, “I owe them a letter, but I have no idea what to say. I’ve been having that conversation with myself for at least six months.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Absentmindedly, she straightened the photos over and over again, trying to make them perfectly aligned.

Leonard watched her sadly, his mind sorting through all the new information.

Suddenly, Alina said, “You know, this escape plan is going to end very quickly if you’re right about the Feds being able to track people.”

“That’s why we have to figure out how it works and what to ditch.”

“You mentioned the possibility of tracking me…from the base.”

“If you can get away during the day.”

“We need to try it. I have to know. If they track us past the infirmary, we’re sitting ducks.”

“What time’s your lunch?”

“Noon.”

“Mine, too. How long?”

“Half an hour.”

Leonard pursed his lips to one side.
If Dickens is on the same lunch schedule, it will be a piece of cake.
“We get a full hour, but that will give me time to investigate further if need be. When everyone else is at lunch, I’ll stay at my desk.”

Alina beamed. “Okay. I’ll wear my old clothing tomorrow and leave my purse behind.” She pantomimed dropping a purse casually on an imaginary surface. “So let’s say that at about 12:05, I’ll be on my way out the door. I’ll stash my ID in a bush near Seventeenth and Fitzsimmons and continue to head north, walking as far as I can in ten minutes. Then I’ll head back, pick up the pass, and return to work.”

Leonard nodded. “Hopefully I’ll see your red dot, and it will linger at Seventeenth and Fitzsimmons. Then we’ll know for sure.”

“And if it’s not the IDs, we’ll just have to bring only items we bought before they called the National Emergency.”

“What about the survival gear in the trunk?”

She sighed. “All new.”

“The transmitters have got to be in the IDs. Who’d be tagging sleeping bags?”

“Good point. So let’s assume for now it’s the IDs. We’ll test it tomorrow. Then on Thursday, I’ll tuck my real ID into our bed and you can leave yours at a park somewhere.”

“Yes, yes. It will work.” Leonard smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time since he arrived.

Alina touched him on the shoulder. “But if we don’t go see Max, you won’t have a clean ID, and you won’t be going anywhere.”

Chapter Seventeen

The stairwell leading to Max’s apartment reeked with the smell of a combination of body fluids. Appalled, Leonard held his breath as they ascended the stairs. When they reached the third floor, Alina proceeded to the door on the far left. She knocked sharply three times near the top of the door. Then she squatted and rapped three times slowly. Two minutes passed before Leonard heard the sound of three locks disengaging. The door opened slightly.

A dark-haired man with a two-day old beard peered out at them. He nodded at Alina; then examined Leonard. Surly and cautious, he caught Leonard’s gaze and held it for a moment.

“Is this Leonard?” he whispered to Alina, as if Leonard were out of earshot.

“Let us in,” she shot back under her breath.

The shaggy man regarded Alina with a look bordering on anger.

“I know what I’m doing,” she said. “Please. Hurry.”

Reluctantly he swung the door open, just wide enough for Alina to slip through. As Leonard approached the opening, the suspicious man glared at him intensely a few seconds before allowing him to pass. Leonard heard three locks snap shut as he stepped into the small flat.