The Trap (23 page)

She starts untethering a horse from its collars and traces. Not once does she look at me or say anything. I only know she’s working quickly, will be saddled up and galloping away within a
minute.

“Sissy. Come on. Let’s think this through.”

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even lift her head to me. Her fingers work the straps, unwinding the leather with loud snaps. The horse is almost completely untethered when she stops. But
not with indecision. With surprise, with confusion. Her head tilts to the side.

And that’s when I hear it, too.

Hm-m-m-m. Hm-m-m-m.

Coming from just behind me.

Hm-m-m-m. Hm-m-m-m.

On the ground, still sitting in a splash of sunlight where I’d placed it.

The TextTrans. It’s buzzing, shaking the blades of grass around it.

F
OR A FEW
seconds, all we can do is stare. Then I’m jumping on the TextTrans, picking it up. It vibrates along the digits of my
fingers, along my bones, jolting my whole body. But on the screen are only scrambled characters.

“Is it Epap?” Sissy says, running to me.

“I can’t tell.” I shake the TextTrans as if that might help. “The screen’s all messed up.”

“Try to send something back,” Sissy says.

With shaking fingers, I type EPAP, but it comes out as:

There’s nothing I can do about the garbled letters. I hit SEND. And as if I’ve just hit the OFF button, the TextTrans dies on me. It stops vibrating. The screen powers off.

“No!” Sissy shouts. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! I just hit SEND.”

“What happened?”

I smack the back of the TextTrans. “It was probably just a glitch. Inside circuits dried up in the sunlight, then sent a phantom message in error.”

“Or it could’ve been Epap.”

Before I can reply, the TextTrans comes alive again in my hand, vibrating hard and furious. I almost drop it.

“Gene!”

“I know, I know.” Faces pressed together, we read the screen. And again, I almost drop the TextTrans.

Sissy and I stare at each other. With thumbs that suddenly seem too big and cumbersome and slow, I type out a reply.

We wait for what seems like an eternity. Then:

Sissy and I glance at each other, eyes hopeful. I type: Resend.

The TextTrans hums, and this time when we read the screen Sissy lets out a cry.

I start typing furiously.