The Island (13 page)

Tom was equally cautious. “Why would I?” He frowned at Malgam. “She’s one of Filina’s crew. I have no reason to see her.”

Malgam raised his eyebrows.

“No reason at all.” Tom was practically stuttering.

Malgam shot Daniel a look. Daniel nodded.

“What?” Tom held his hands up and shrugged.

Malgam stretched, raising his arms over his head languorously. “You’re not so great at lying.” He was about to add something when they all heard a tap at the unit door. Pathik opened the door a crack, then wide, and Sarah entered.

“Tom!” She looked annoyed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We told you to meet us at—”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Tom made a stiff movement with his head, angling it toward Malgam and Daniel. “I have no reason to meet you anywhere.” He jerked his head again, eyes wide.

“Tom.” Sarah put her hands on her hips. “They know.”

Tom’s eyes got even wider. “What? What do they know?”

“I told them. Everything. They’re going to try to help us.” Sarah looked at Rachel. “I think.”

Rachel couldn’t help but to smile at Tom’s dumbfounded expression. She nodded to him. “It’s okay, Tom. We have a sort of plan.” She caught Pathik’s eye, but looked away before anyone else noticed.

An hour later, Tom and Sarah left, off to finalize the parts of the plan they could. Rachel and the rest of her group were ready for a quick dinner, which they shared around the table in the first unit. After that, Malgam, Nandy and Pathik retired to their unit. The morning would come sooner than any of them wanted it.

Rachel slipped into the bedroom before her parents went to bed. She needed to find the waterproof bag that held Vivian’s portfolio, and she needed to do it without Vivian or Daniel finding out. She rummaged through the scant supplies that had survived the boat wreck and finally found what she was looking for. Her hands trembling, she drew out the maps. Relics from the collaboration, the resistance movement her mother and father had been a part of in the Unified States—the maps had been passed from member to member, carefully guarded, hidden away for future use. All those years that she and her mother had lived quietly on The Property, thinking her father was dead, the maps had been in the portfolio along with other contraband documents. She barely had time to hide them in her pocket when Vivian came in.

“What are you doing?” Vivian looked worried. Rachel wasn’t in the habit of digging around in her mother’s things, certainly not in the portfolio.

“I . . . I was hoping you might have a pen and some paper in here.” Rachel held her breath, feeling horrible for the lie she was about to tell.

“What for?”

“I know that it will be fine tomorrow.” Rachel didn’t have to feign her apprehension. “I just wanted—I mean if something goes wrong. I wanted to write some things down.”

Vivian furrowed her brow. “Like what, Rachel?”

“Like, well, like Hannah did, for Tom.”

Vivian came to her and hugged her, holding her so tight Rachel had to loosen her hold in order to breathe. “Rachel. Nothing’s going to go wrong.” Vivian smoothed Rachel’s hair back from her forehead. “Are you afraid we’d forget who you are? Like Hannah was afraid?”

Rachel shook her head. “I know you wouldn’t. I wanted to write a letter for Pathik.” Rachel couldn’t stop the flush that came into her cheeks. She knew her mother was aware that she and Pathik had feelings for each other, but actually talking about it with her was uncomfortable.

Vivian peered at her daughter for a moment, smiling. “Ah. I see.” She picked up the portfolio. “Well, it just so happens you’re in luck.” She unzipped a side pocket and produced three sheets of printer paper and a pen. “I guess my over-organized self is looking pretty good now, isn’t it?”

Rachel smiled. “I always did give you a hard time about your rules, didn’t I?”

“A hard time? I’d say that was an understatement.” Vivian tried to look stern, but her eyes were twinkling. “I love you, Rachel. And so does your father. You know that, right?”

Rachel hugged Vivian tight, as tight as her mother had hugged her a moment ago. She hid her face, because if Vivian saw it, she would know something was not right. “I love you both, too.”

Vivian held her for a moment more. “Send your father in here for me. We’ll turn in so you can have some privacy in the main room. But don’t stay up writing for too long.”

With a last look over her shoulder, Rachel left her mother and went out to get Daniel.

He was still sitting at the table, looking weary. The shadows from the oil lamp deepened the darkness under his eyes. When he saw Rachel, his face lightened some, and he smiled.

“Mom’s ready for bed.” Rachel stood looking at him. She was still amazed to see him sometimes—breathing, moving, talking—her dead father, come back to life.

“You ready, too? Is that cot treating you all right?” Daniel nodded toward the cot in the corner of the room.

“It’s not too bad.”

Daniel slowly pulled himself up from his stool. “I feel like I might actually creak, if I’m not careful.” He smiled ruefully.

Rachel hugged him then, holding him tight, feeling his strength and solidness. He was such a good man, such a good father. She wondered how much she’d missed, not having him all those years he’d been gone. “I love you, Dad.”

Daniel hugged her back. He didn’t say a word, not for the longest time. But then he held her away from him and looked at her with such deep emotion he couldn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was tight. “I love you too, Rachel. I’ve loved you since the day you were born. Through all the years, even when I wasn’t with you, I thought of you. You and your mother kept me alive through some bad times.”

“Better get some rest now.” Rachel felt . . . too much. She didn’t want the morning to come, but she knew it would.

“Morning’s coming no matter what.” Daniel spoke as though he had read her mind. “I guess we’d all better sleep.”

Once she was certain her parents were asleep, Rachel took the maps out and carefully smoothed them flat on the table. She wasn’t sure which map might be the best one to use. After a while, she decided any one would do and just picked the one on the top of the stack. She placed a sheet of the blank paper her mother had given her over the map, and in the dim light, her eyes heavy, she began to trace.

In the second unit, Malgam and Nandy slept in the bedroom. Pathik sat at the table, turning an envelope over and over in his hands. His name was written on the envelope, in a scrawled cursive. There was a letter in the envelope, a letter from his grandmother, Elizabeth Moore, written to him before she ever met him, before she knew she ever would. Rachel had given it to him when she first Crossed, when they’d first begun to know one another. She’d had two others, one for his father, Malgam, and one for his grandfather, Indigo. He knew they’d both read their letters, though they hadn’t shared what was in them.

Pathik had kept his, sealed in its envelope, through all that had happened since Rachel had handed it to him. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t opened it. He’d come close many times, especially once he’d actually met his grandmother. But somehow, it always felt better to keep the envelope sealed. As if keeping it sealed kept something from ending—something he didn’t want to end.

Tonight, he felt differently. He thought maybe keeping the envelope sealed kept something from beginning. Something he might have been afraid of before. He didn’t feel as afraid now.

He made a small tear at the top of the envelope, and wiggled his finger inside. Then he pushed along the fold, ripping the envelope open wide. There was a single sheet inside and he could see there was very little written on that sheet. He unfolded it, wondering if he was about to be disappointed.

Pathik read the letter twice. Then, he folded it carefully and replaced it in its envelope. He put the envelope in his pocket.

He didn’t feel disappointed.

H
annah wasn’t certain if it was still evening or if it was the middle of the night—it wasn’t possible to tell in the cave, where the light never changed. She only knew it was late. She’d been locked in the small room off the office since morning, when her name had been announced as Honoree.

She didn’t remember much about the morning except how afraid she’d been. She was afraid while she got dressed. Afraid while Tom tried to talk her out of going to assembly, which hadn’t worked, of course. She knew they’d never get away, at least not far enough. And if they did manage to get out, she knew Filina would make her family pay for it, somehow. Maybe she’d make sure Polly was Honoree when she was old enough. Hannah couldn’t take that chance, no matter how much Tom pleaded.

She remembered being afraid while they walked to her parents’ unit to meet them, afraid while Polly showed her the new doll her father had carved her from a small piece of driftwood. She’d felt sad at how her father and mother were acting—excited—as though it would be a great thing if she was named Honoree. They still believed the fairytale Filina had spun for the people.

She remembered being afraid right up until the moment after she heard her name. After that, all she could recall was a fog, a gray fuzzy feeling in her mind as she walked, oddly compelled, toward where Filina stood up on the platform. Then, nothing.

Nothing at all, until about an hour ago. She’d suddenly come to, as if she’d been in a trance of some sort before. When she did, all she saw was the small room, the locked door, the bowl of stew someone left for her, cold and congealing on the table. She felt tired, as though she’d been awake for many hours.

This must be the place they had all come before her, all of the previous Honorees. Hannah didn’t know exactly what happened; nobody did. She only knew that during Celebration, family and close friends were able to visit the Honoree briefly before they went away. They must do it here, in this tiny room. She wondered how long until her mother and father, Tom and Polly, maybe Gina, her closest friend, would be allowed to see her one last time.

She thought about the girl, Rachel. The girl from Away. She hoped Rachel knew how important the packet she’d given her was—how much was sewn inside that scrap of fabric. She hoped Tom wouldn’t be too sad when he read the letter she’d written to him. She hoped he’d think of her when—

Hannah felt her hands tightening into fists. She looked down at them as though they weren’t
her
hands at first, but soon enough she felt the strength in them traveling up her arms, into her shoulders, through her chest. She would not succumb to this. No. She would fight. When that door opened, she would be ready. If Filina thought she would just go quietly along with whatever was planned, she had a big surprise coming. Hannah would fight and she would find her way back to Tom.

She didn’t have long to wait. The door latch creaked upward and then the door swung out. Hannah watched as Filina stepped into the room. The woman looked tired, more tired than Hannah had ever seen her look. There were circles under her eyes, and she moved as though her body ached.

“Time to go now, Hannah.” Filina barely looked at her.

Hannah didn’t move.

“I said, time to go.” Filina sounded as tired as she looked. When Hannah didn’t respond to her command, she sighed. “
Now
, girl. I don’t have time for this.”

“Is that the way you talked to the other Honorees?” Hannah snorted. “Not very respectful of those who are making
such great sacrifices for our people
.” She made her voice important and formal when she spoke, mocking the way Filina always said the same words at assembly. She wasn’t sure where she got the courage to speak this way to Filina—the woman who led them all now, the woman many feared, including Hannah, without really knowing why. All she knew was that she wanted Tom. She just wanted to get back to Tom. “I’m not going anywhere.” She jutted her chin up and out, hoping she looked braver than she felt.

Filina just stared at her. Hannah felt something tug at her thoughts, muddling them, swirling them around into a nebulous mist. She found herself standing. She took a step toward Filina.

“Everything all right here?” Jim, who’d heard Hannah’s outburst leaned in the doorway.

At the sound of his voice Hannah felt herself snap back, clarity sharpening her thoughts once again. She stumbled backwards. “I’m not going.” Her voice trembled with effort.

“We don’t have time for this.” Filina looked at Jim. “I’ll be busy with Lethe. I can’t be worried about Hannah.”

Jim frowned. “Should I doze her?” Usually they went willingly.

Filina gave him a look of contempt. “Yes, Jim. Do I need to spell everything out for you?”

“Sorry.” Jim stepped all the way into the room and closed the door. He leaned his back against it; there was no space for him to stand anywhere else in the small room. Hannah shrank away from him, but she couldn’t escape his talent. Within seconds she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

“Get David and have him help you take her to Lethe’s.” Filina dismissed Jim without another glance. She stopped as she opened the door to leave, though, and looked down at Hannah. “Better tie her up.” Then, she left.

Hannah awoke in another room she didn’t recognize. It looked like the main room of any unit, with one door leading to a bedroom, another to a bathroom. There were signs that someone lived here; a box of toys that reminded her of Polly sat in a corner. A jar on the table held some sea glass—Hannah remembered gathering smooth, pastel pieces of it from the beach, wetting the sugared surfaces with her tongue to see the colors deepen.