Numbers Ignite (11 page)

“Of course not.” She deserved a little more explanation than that, but I hesitated. “It’s just that there’s someone waiting for me.”

“A boy. Someone you think you love.”

The words stung, and I glanced away. “I have to get to him.”

“Or what? Are you worried he’ll find someone else?” She knelt on the floor so I’d be forced to look at her. “If you have to worry about that, then he’s not the boy for you. I’ve seen so many young people make rash judgments after flings. They always regret those decisions later.”

“If you’re trying to get me to stay, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Her lips pulled together in an expression of disapproval, but she nodded and gathered her supplies together. A dull metal ring shone on her finger today. I hadn’t noticed it before.

“Is that your wedding band?” I asked.

She didn’t look at it. “Yes. I still wear it on occasion.”

I wanted to ask her what had happened to her husband, but the look on her face stopped me. Instead, I asked, “Why do you wear it on your pointer finger? I thought it was tradition to wear it on the third finger.”

“That’s a NORA tradition. Here, the position of the ring on your hand tells everyone how serious your relationship is. Pinky means you’re promised, but no further. Third finger means your intentions have been ratified by the elders, and middle finger means your contributions have been accepted and you’re about to be married.”

“Interesting.” It explained the rings I’d seen on various fingers while living down here. “So the ring is because even though your husband is gone, you consider yourself married?”

“No body was ever found, so yes. I’m still officially married.”

“But that isn’t fair. What if you found someone else?”

“Since we’re playing the ‘what-if’ game, what if my husband came home? It would make things awkward if I were married to two men.”

“Yeah, but that’s not likely, right? You should be allowed some happiness.”

“Well, as harbinger, I have greater responsibilities than most.” She stood and opened the medicine cabinet, placed her supplies carefully inside, and then closed it. The lock clicked into place. For the first time, I wondered why she locked it. There were no young children here. What if somebody needed medical attention and she wasn’t around to open it?

Of course she locks it. Some medications can be dangerous. She’s just being a good physician.

I stood and slipped on my boots. She watched me silently. Finally, I started to leave.

“Look, Amy,” she said as I reached the door. “Forget that I’m the harbinger. Forget what Coltrane wants you to do. I just want you to
think.
You want peace, a new life, to be happy. We can give you all that.”

“It’s not that at all.”

“But it is. You’ve proven yourself to be a good, decent, peaceable member of our community. Your contribution is changing minds all over the place. All you need to do is present your skills to the elders and you’ll be accepted. Then the people will be forced to see you as you really are.” She paused. “There are other boys here your age. Better ones.”

“I need to go,” I said. “It’s nearly time for school to start.”

She stood, frowning. “Just consider it. We’ll talk later.”

Today Mandie had come with more gossip about Belgium and the Nations for Peace. I gave her five minutes to recount what she’d heard, trying to focus on her words but understanding about half the references.

As she spoke, Ruby placed a glass vase on the table. Ruby had managed to fit several vines with orange flowers into it, and they cascaded beautifully down the vase.

When Mandie took a breath, I plunged in. “Thanks for the update. We’re lucky you can get the all the latest news from Maxim. We’ll practice writing our names again today.” I held up the stick I’d been using to trace letters in the dirt floor.

“That’s boring,” Clara said, twisting one braid around her finger. “Everyone already knows my name. When will I ever need to write it down?”

“Well, what if you left this place? Out there, you’ll need to know this stuff.”

Mandie snorted. “Right. My mom won’t even let me go up on my year day. She says the air is poisonous or something.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve lived out there my whole life. The air is bad in certain places, yes, but those areas are far away.”

“Like three or five days of walking?” the younger of the boys, Calvin, asked.

I’d seen the images of war-torn Old America. Piles of bodies soaked in fuel, then lit on fire. Blackened cities and farms. Endless streets, abandoned cars resting bumper to bumper. Toxic lakes and rivers. “Like three or five months,” I told him. “I don’t know if you could even walk there.”

“How did Old America fall?” Clara asked. “Will you tell us what happened?”

“I’m only here to teach the basics,” I said with a shrug. “Your parents will tell you all about it if you ask them.”

“No, they won’t,” Mandie said. “I even asked Maxim. Nobody will tell me anything. Please?”

I hesitated, remembering Lillibeth’s warning. “If they don’t want to tell you about it, then I’d better not.”

“You said it yourself,” Clara replied evenly. “We need to know writing in case we ever have to leave here, right? Don’t you think we should know what’s up there for the same reason?”

Fates.
The children’s faces were so eager, so interested. I looked at their older siblings, who were pretending to write words in the dirt or examining their nails, and made a decision. “I guess I can tell you a little about it. Just the history though.”

“Yes!” Calvin said, settling back for a story. The older siblings perked up, and every eye in the room was on me. Even Ruby watched, though with a wary expression. She knew as well as I did that I was getting myself into trouble here.

I shoved away the dread. If their parents were upset, I’d take full responsibility. But this was the history of their forefathers. Even if I left this place tonight, at least I could leave these kids with something of worth. Mandie was right. They needed to know what had happened.

“Many years ago,” I began, “there was a great war.”

The guards must have taken pity on me because they finally brought a physician. He muttered something about mosquitos and infection as he entered. I couldn’t get my shirt off for the examination, so he sliced it open with scissors. There was a quick intake of breath as he examined my right side. It was completely purple and black. After feeling around, he ordered painkillers, healing stimulants, and what he called “proper bedding.” It ended up being only an extra blanket and pillow, but it was better than nothing. Soon I was resting comfortably.

After two weeks of traveling, being forced to lie around was actually pretty nice. They gave me real food—usually dehydrated meat with rice and mashed-up vegetables on the side—and I could sleep as much as I wanted. Problem was, I also had plenty of time to think.

For some reason, I couldn’t get Edyn’s words from the previous night out of my mind.
You could be three times the man Mills is
. Edyn, the girl who’d contradicted and criticized everything I’d done my entire childhood. When I thought of her, a specific memory surfaced.

I was eleven, which meant she was probably nine or ten. Mom had sent me out to the river for some clean water. The settlement’s water reserve tank was high, but she didn’t trust it. Sixty percent of the settlers had fallen ill in the last week, and she believed it was some kind of new bacteria in the water. As I shuffled my way along, carrying two metal pails, I grumbled about having to work all day and kicked a squirrel that didn’t scurry away fast enough.

Edyn saw me do it. She put her hands on her hips like women do and glared at me. “You’re a bully,” she said.

I laughed at her. It sounded cruel even to me, but she’d caught me in a bad mood. “That’s right. If you get in my way, I’ll kick you, too.”

“You’d never get the chance. I’m too fast for you.”

“Right. I bet I can make it to the river and back before you even touch the water.”

“You’re on.” She sprinted away, and I chased after her. The river was less than a quarter mile from the wall, but it was all downhill and the trail was too narrow to pass her. I mentally kicked myself for not starting first.

Edyn half slid, half ran down the hill and pulled up just short of the water. I trotted right into it a full second behind her, nearly running her over. She choked a laugh. “See? And you’re older and taller than me.”

“You haven’t touched the water yet,” I said, drawing one pail through the freezing river to fill it. “That was part of the deal.”

“Don’t you pretend I didn’t win.” She snatched the other pail out of my hand and sank it into the river, pulling it out full. “I’ll tell everybody.”

“They won’t believe your scrawny little face.”

“Whatever. They believe everything I say. You’re the one who never tells the truth.”

I dumped my pail of ice water over her head so fast she nearly fell over into the river. With a shuddering gasp, she stood there, fingers flayed, dripping water like a drowned cat. Then she let out a shriek that could rival a banshee. I yanked the pail out of her hand, filled it again in one swoop, and hurried up the trail.

But it was too late. Her screaming echoed across the forest. When I approached the crest, Rutner was headed down the trail. His face darkened when he saw me. “What did you do?”

“How do you know I did anything?” I muttered.

“Vance,” he said with forced patience. “Where is she?”

You didn’t mess around with Rutner. He was almost as intimidating as my father. “Standing by the river.”

He shoved past me, but Edyn emerged from the trees and approached him like a zombie, arms out and wailing. “D-d-daddy! V-vance pushed me in!”

“I did not!” I protested.

“H-h-he did,” she said with chattering teeth. “He tried to drown me because I beat him r-racing to the r-river.”

“You’re such a liar,” I told her, but Rutner turned an icy look on me and pointed toward the settlement. I trudged away as her father removed his jacket and wrapped it around her. Then he picked her up and carried her up the hill behind me.

I forgot about the incident as soon as I walked in the door. Sick bodies lay scattered across every soft surface we owned. My parents had offered their home to the harder-hit patients since the physician himself was sick. Mom and Dad had given up their bed to three women who spent all night moaning and crying out in their sleep. I wasn’t sure where my parents had slept. It looked like two more people had arrived since I left. I could see someone’s feet hanging off my bed.

Mom saw me enter and took one of the pails. She noted the wetness beneath my boots. “I swear, Vance. When will you learn not to immerse yourself in the river every time you fetch water?”

“You gave away my bed.”

She cupped my chin in her hand and sighed. “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. It won’t be for more than a night or two.”

“Like the people in your bed were supposed to be? What about the ones on the floor?” My voice rose in volume. “You guys always do this. It’s all about the settlers, not your family.”

For once, my mother didn’t know what to say. She let her hand drop. Her eyes were a muddy mixture of brown and gold, I recalled. They brightened in color when she was really tired. Like now. Her shoulders sagged as if she carried an invisible weight, and for the first time, I felt bad for my words.