Open Minds (24 page)

I tried not to think about what was happening to her.

My top priority was getting out of the camp. If Simon insisted on opening the gates for Molloy, I wasn’t sure I would stop him. But if he tried to stop me from leaving Clan Molloy behind, I wouldn’t hesitate to overpower him and leave him with his friends in the desert.

chapter THIRTY

It wasn’t long before Daniel-the-changeling found his way to Block C. He was smart enough to shed his armband along the way, but his tattered shirt betrayed that he had been in the camp for a while.

Molloy raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would you, lassie?”

I shrugged and feigned innocence. Since Molloy couldn’t scrub my mind, he set Andre on Daniel to make sure he wasn’t a spy. I cringed as Daniel suffered through Andre’s interrogation.

“Is that necessary?” Maybe bringing Daniel to Block C had been a mistake. Molloy didn’t answer, and Andre released Daniel after a few more moments.

“He’s just a changeling.” Andre glared at me, but didn’t say any more. If he’d found any evidence that I had been involved, he wouldn’t hesitate to say so.

Molloy offered Daniel a hand up from the floor. “Sorry about that, lad. You understand, don’t you?” The boy nodded so hard, I was afraid his head would fall off. I didn’t care much for Molloy’s methods, but once he had accepted Daniel into the Clan, it seemed like  Molloy would take care of him. And he didn’t raise any more eyebrows when changelings started showing up at Block C after that.

At least, I didn’t think he suspected me.

Nearly a week passed before the newcomer truck brought fresh inmates to the camp. Word traveled fast about the truck’s impending arrival, the linked whispers of the Camp of the Flies rivaling the thought-speed rumor mill of Warren Township High. However, sitting on a rough cot in the middle of Block C, surrounded by anxious members of Clan Molloy, couldn’t have been more different than walking the halls of my school. And Shark Boy could only dream of being as ruthless as the pravers in the camp.

I knew without brushing any minds that the newcomer truck had stopped at the first gate. After a week of practice, my reach easily swept beyond the camp fences to the surrounding desert. I kept checking whether I could extend out to the guards at the outer perimeter (still no) or detect the incoming shipment of new inmates before anyone else (yes).

Molloy gathered his people so we could travel as a group to intercept the truck. The plan included myself and Simon, Molloy, Andre, and a half dozen other Clan members, plus a few strong jackers from Blocks E and F. We needed a large group, partly to ensure our own safety and that of the newcomers, and also so Simon and I would not be missed when we slipped inside the truck. Our Allied Clans were in on the escape effort, but alerting the other inmates to our plans would be problematic at best.

I gave a short nod to Simon, indicating the newcomer truck had passed the first gate. The truck held returnees from whatever government facility was used for the Feds’ heinous experiments. The girls were both fourteen and changelings. So much like Laney, but neither was her. Their thoughts were fuzzed, even though their minds were clear of the juice. I felt the parts of their brains that had been damaged, like soft dead spots where the doctors had targeted their destruction.

A sour taste in the back of my throat threatened to bring up my lunch of protein bars. I hoped that someday Kestrel would suffer a painful payback for what he had done.

 Simon signaled Molloy that it was time to leave, and soon we were striding past weathered barracks and wary onlookers. We moved as a pack toward the entrance gate and sported a rainbow of armbands, with me and Simon surrounded by the strongest jackers in the Allied Clans.

No one messed with us.

The inner gate creaked to a metallic stop, and the truck slowly backed into the camp on its autopath. In theory, we could walk straight past the open gates into the hundred-foot gap between the fences. When Molloy scrubbed the minds of several veteran inmates, searching for true memories about escaping the camp, he found out that a few desperate prisoners had tried to escape that way. None had survived. Any movement between the fences triggered a wave of gas and trapped the escapee in that no man’s land until the next drop shipment or newcomer truck.

I shook that mental image out of my head as the truck lurched to a stop. Molloy’s crew formed a brigade at the rear end. Simon and I pulled open the dust-covered doors and climbed inside. The wide-eyed pair of changelings cowered together on the bench, holding hands. Either they were friends, or they had already made an alliance. I cringed when I told them to get out. They were in no state to deal with the camp, but at least Molloy would look out for them. And maybe they wouldn’t be there long. If we were successful.

The door slammed closed behind them.

I took their place on the warm metal bench, and Simon sat next to me. When the gas struck, I would have to speed up his heart to fight it off, in addition to controlling my own heart rate and reaching out to the guards. I preferred that he stayed on the other side of the truck, but it would take less effort to control his heart rate if he was nearby. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind being close.

 We waited for the truck to start its autopath out of the camp. Our plan was to survive the gas, ride the truck to the perimeter gate, and knock out the guards. Then we would open the camp gates and release the prisoners. That part was Simon’s job. I planned on being long gone before any jackers reached the perimeter. But Simon didn’t need to know that until the time came.

Simon seemed like he had something to say, only he wouldn’t spit it out. There was nothing left to discuss, but the stifling heat of the truck left me with little patience.

“What?” I asked. I would save linking into his mind until it was necessary.

He studied his hands. “I shouldn’t have lied to you, Kira. I should have told you the truth, about the Clan. About all of it.”

I nodded but didn’t offer any more than that. I wouldn’t be facing a truck full of gas and trying to escape the Camp of the Flies if he hadn’t lied to me almost every step of the way. I still couldn’t figure out when the lies had begun, but they probably ended at the warehouse. By that point, it was a little late for the truth.

Simon stared at the metal riveted floor of the truck. “All of this could have been avoided. If I’d told you the truth, maybe you would have joined the Clan willingly. Maybe I could have convinced you…”

I snorted, causing him to look up. “It would have taken a lot more than kisses from you to convince me join the Clan.”

His face twisted into a pained smile. “Well, at least there was some fun along the way.”

It was my turn to stare at the rivets snaking along the floor and try to order away the blush rising up my face. How could I control my own heart rate, but not keep my cheeks from lighting up every time I was embarrassed? Simon scooted closer, so that our knees brushed. Mine were exposed by the shorts I had on when I was captured. We both had on the same clothes from the last time we kissed, in his car a lifetime ago.

“We can still make this work, Kira.” His voiced dropped to that soft, rich sound he used when he was trying to convince me of something. He ran his fingers along my hair and tucked it behind my ear. “Just the two of us. Once we’re out of here, we can run away. Forget the Clan. We’ll go somewhere no one knows us and start over. We can pass as readers, and no one will ever know the difference.”

His soft, urgent words tugged at me. I didn’t have to link into his head to know that was what he had wanted all along. Pretend to have a normal life, live off our ill-gotten gains, lie to everyone we knew. I dreamed of a normal life once, too, complete with boyfriends and college. Only Simon’s face was never the one that filled those dreams. If we got out of this alive, Simon could make his own way in the world. I was going home and seeing if I could get my life back and put things right with Raf.

Simon took my silence for something else and leaned in to kiss me. I turned my face at the last moment, so that his lips landed on my cheek instead. They were as searing hot as always, even in the desert heat of the truck.

Puffs from his laugh caressed my cheek. “I guess I deserved that.”

The truck lurched and sent me crashing into him. He righted us, holding me gently by the shoulder. I took his hand and linked into his mind.
You don’t deserve this. Neither of us does.
Just because Simon had lied and betrayed me didn’t mean he deserved the camp. But his thoughts made more of that statement than I intended.

A hiss announced the beginning of the gas, so I jacked in further to step up both our heart rates before the first whiff of orange scent reached us. Adrenaline made me want to pace the tight confines of the truck, but I stayed with Simon, my hand locked with his, and kept tabs on the state of his mind. As the mist surrounded us, I pulled the neck of my t-shirt up to cover my mouth and nose, and Simon did the same. It wasn’t much use. The intensity of the gas was overwhelming.

The truck swayed to a stop and waited for the gates behind us to close and the ones ahead to open. Metal creaked over the hiss of the gas. When the outer gate was fully open, the truck still sat in the perimeter no-man’s-land between the electrified fences. My heart was already trying to pound out of my chest or it would have raced from worry that something had gone wrong.
Why isn’t the truck moving?

I reached out and searched again for a mindware interface, but found nothing, like my first trip in the truck. Finally, the truck jerked forward and lumbered through the outer gate. I leaned off the bench and squinted at the desert glare coming through the dusty windows in front. A guard tower shimmered in the heat. A half mile seemed a reasonable estimate.

Simon’s face shone bright red around his dirt-stained shirt. He heaved breaths through the thin fabric, and his eyelids blinked very slowly.
Stay with me, Simon
. I commanded him to a jittery wakefulness and struggled to keep my own eyes open as the juice seeped into my brain.

The truck bounced and crunched on the dirt path leading away from the camp. I peeked again at the hard-packed line that was hardly a road. The desert was clear ahead of us, but impossibly, the guard tower didn’t seem any closer. The truck trundled along at a maddeningly slow speed. I reached as far as I could. There was nothing but scrub brush ahead of us. If we didn’t pick up the pace, we’d both pass out before we got close enough to knock out the guards.

For a moment I considered letting the gas take Simon. My range was shortened by having to fight the gas for both of us. After I knocked out the guards, reviving Simon from a full juice dose would take time, maybe more time than I would have before the guards from the other perimeter stations reached the gate. Perhaps I could take them all, but it would be tough if they were jackers. I might need Simon’s help. And as much as I didn’t dream of a jacker life with him, I couldn’t leave him behind to face whatever Molloy had in store for him.

Simon’s sweaty hand clenched in mine. I was jacked deep in his mind to control his heart rate and couldn’t help hearing all his thoughts, even the ones he was trying not to think. Thoughts about after the escape. His longing for a normal life. With me. If only he had more time, he might be able to change my mind. Convince me.

I refrained from wiping those thoughts out of his head and concentrated on keeping our hearts pounding fast enough to keep up with the gas. It was a losing battle. Maybe we could crack a window and let some of it out. I pulled him off the bench and we shuffled toward the front. The side windows were sealed tight. Simon climbed into the passenger seat and kicked at the flexiglass with his uninjured leg, but no luck.

I tipped my head to the back, and a wave of dizziness swept over me. Whether it was from the gas or the heart palpitations, we were running out of time. The only way to keep from passing out was to vent the gas out the back doors—or leave the truck altogether.

The guards at the perimeter gate had guns. Big guns. Molloy had scrubbed a true memory about one jacker who had shorted out the fences and cut his way through, somehow sprinting across the gas in the no-man’s-land to saw a hole through the outer fence. He was shot. He died right at the fence line and lay there until the next drop shipment when the Feds took his body away.

I didn’t want to mess with a gun that picked off escaping prisoners half a mile away.

That meant staying in the truck as long as possible. But we had to reduce the intensity of the gas. If we opened the doors a crack, maybe that would vent enough of the gas to keep us awake. If not, we would have to get out. The truck was slow enough that we could follow along behind and use it as a shield. Then we’d be free of the gas, and I could reach farther and knock out the tower guards sooner.

I pulled Simon toward the rear of the truck. He stumbled a bit on the way, but caught himself before he fell.
We should open the doors, just a crack,
I linked the thought to him.
So the guards can’t see, in case they’re watching.