Long before she rounded the bend that led to the cells, Roxy could hear the voices of her classmates, sounding rather like a flock of geese. Julie's voice, breathless and high-pitched, rose above the rest. "There's a big shower room full of dead bodies, stacked like cordwood. I threw up right on the floor. Then I heard feet clomping down the stairs, and ended up running back through the locker room with three Rambos hot after me. One of them tackled me in the corridor and put my lights out. When I wake up, I'm draped across this big guy, and they're shooting at the Man.
"It was unbelievable. One of them is shooting at him with a rifle from maybe twenty feet away, pop-pop-pop-pop-pop, and he's turning this way and that as he walks up to him like it's nothing, like he knew where the bullet would go before the guy pulled the trigger. Then he slaps the rifle out of his hand as if it's just something in his way … and he just breaks him like cheap furniture. Then Rox comes up the hall, all covered in blood like that scene in Carrie, and acting like she's gone postal. She tells the guy with the gun to my head that she's going to bust him up, and all of a sudden it's like something huge came up behind him and picked him up right off his feet. I ran down the hall a few steps and looked back, and the guy was laying there, looking like someone hit him in the head with a sledgehammer."
She's had time to tell that story a dozen times while I've been gone, and I'll bet it gets better each time. Way to keep the troops calm, Julie.
When she rounded the bend, what she saw made her think of a fire drill, only without teachers to herd kids towards the door; everyone was milling around and talking, and some of them were sounding a little panicky.
"Hey," she said, then again, louder. "Hey!" She waved her arm, as if she were just so mousy she couldn't expect anyone to notice her, and let the crowd get a good look at her, clean and not very dangerous or psycho-looking. "Mr. Lynch said it's time to clean out the guardroom. Kat's in there with him, opening lockers." She dropped her sister's name to reassure the ones who were still suspicious; no one would ever suspect Kat of being up to something. "Are we all here? Look around. Is anyone missing?"
"Just your pod, Rox," said one of the girls. "I haven't seen them since the shooting started."
"Kay. Just head down the hallway, then. You can't get lost. Hey, Julie," she called. "There's a first aid kit up there. You should do something about that cut, you're still bleeding. Must have been a hard knock to the head." She watched that little seed take root, as kids looked from her to Julie, some of them regarding the girl with new eyes. As soon as they were all moving, she slipped into Bobby's cell.
Grunge was nowhere in sight, but Bobby and Sarah were still in the same positions, rocking gently in the twilight glow. She stepped inside just far enough to let the door shut behind her, feeling like she was invading their privacy. It was hard to believe she was looking at the same two people she'd been sharing classes with for months; Bobby was always so self-possessed, and she'd never seen Sarah so … unguarded. Compassionate. First me, now him. And there were times I wondered if she really cared about any of us. The Princess raised her head and looked at her, imploring.
"I thought he was dead," Bobby said, in a low voice with all the emotion washed out; his eyes were dry and dull. "All my life, I thought they were both dead. Now he just pops up out of nowhere and wants into my life. Where's he been? Why did they give me up? Why wasn't he here when it could have made a difference?" His face stayed blank; all the misery that went with the words was visible on Sarah's face instead.
She knelt in front of him and took his face in her hands, making him look up at her and stilling that scary rocking. "I don't have any answers, Bobby. You'll have to get them from him. I don't know what it was like for you. I didn't have a dad either, but I think it's different for girls, and I still had my mom. But I know one thing, sure as sunrise. You never needed him in your life like you do right now, and he's here for you. That's gotta count for something." She stroked his head. "He's waiting for us. There are more storm troopers on the way, I think. We've got to get out of here." She asked Sarah, "Where's Grunge?"
"He left. I'm not sure when."
I can imagine who he went to see, probably as soon as I was out of sight. She kept her expression neutral. "He's ahead of us then. We're the last." She stood. "Come on."
By the time they emerged, the hallway was empty, although they could still hear their classmates' voices, a sound like water rushing over rocks as it echoed down the hall. "It's not far. A hundred yards, maybe a little more. They must be there, about." She looked down at the floor as they rounded the bend and began the gentle ascent to the double doors. Mr. Lynch's mop job hadn't extended this far, of course; the dark red drag marks still led up the hall. She'd been in too much of a hurry to get away from Kat to examine how well he'd cleaned up the butcher shop floor in front of the guardroom; she just hoped he'd done a good job.
A crowd was gathered in front of the entrance to the guardroom. The double doors were off their hinges, resting against the wall about where the big man had been lying. She could see the room, filled past capacity with kids rummaging through lockers; the ones out here were waiting their turn, apparently. She could just make out the shower room opening; a bank of lockers had been pulled across it, blocking sight and entry. Mr. Lynch has been keeping her busy; I hope. She didn't need to go in there.
"Keep it neat," she heard Mr. Lynch say from the next row over. "Clothes, cash, keys. Or anything else that you can think of a use for. No guns. No IDs. No credit cards. Try to pick out clothes that fit, and leave the bigger stuff for the bigger kids."
Some of the loiterers at the door seemed in no hurry to go in; Julie was among them. She grabbed the girl's hand. "Come on. The only way out is through this room." She pulled her down the crowded aisle between the lockers. Julie shied at the blocked shower entrance. Roxanne pointed towards the utility area. "Soap and water and bandages are that way. Then get something warm to wear, if there's anything left." She left to follow her own advice.
The big lockers' double doors had all been opened by pulling the padlocks off, hasp and all, and now most of them stood with doors ajar. Some of them were crowded with stuff; others were nearly empty. She supposed the full ones belonged to the men who'd been on duty when Mr. Lynch had invaded the complex.
She rooted through the lockers along the main aisle. She didn't expect to find much, since half the kids in school had already been through them, but she could hope to find a coat that was too small to fit anyone but her, or something no one else thought was important. Some of the searchers had been less than neat; there were items on the floor, soaking up the dampness from the fresh-mopped concrete: wallets, paperbacks, ballpoints and notebooks, even jewelry, including a pair of earrings. I never noticed any guards with pierced ears; they must not wear them on duty. Don't any of these chumps smoke? She assumed the wallets on the floor had been ransacked and ignored them, searching through the storage spaces. Aha. She found a silver cigarette case containing three sticks, along with a fancy lighter; when she pocketed them, she felt something in the pocket already. She recognized it by touch as her fake ID. Better and better.
The crowd thinned somewhat as foragers moved on to less picked-over lockers elsewhere. She was of two minds about that: she felt a need for company, but it was nice not having to worry about being stepped on in the jostling crowd. The place quieted down, and she heard several girls' voices from the next row over, the one with the utility area; one of them was Julie's.
"I don't see how I'm ever going to get all these bits of glass off me."
"Same here. You'd think there'd at least be a brush in here somewhere. Kat busted you out, too?"
"I think Kat busted everybody out. The whole wall went down like a waterfall, chips of glass flying everywhere, and she was tossing coveralls through and sprinting off to the next one before the dust settled. She looked like she was getting off smashing them in. How did she do that?"
"Dunno. The Man says we'll all be doing stuff like that soon." She heard locker doors opening and closing.
"That scares me. I don't like the look of the side effects. I don't want to wig out like those guys."
"Wig out?"
"You saw Kat when she was knocking holes in stuff. She looked like she'd like to knock the place flat if she had time. And then, when she wanted to go with The Man on his little recon mission, did you see her? Hulk smash. And what about Roxy?"
"Julie, you sure you didn't just …"
"No. I know what I saw. Perky little Roxanne Spaulding came around that corner looking like she'd just killed somebody with her bare hands, and she was ready to do it again. The guy holding me was scared of them; his palm was dripping sweat on my shoulder. He was bigger than both of them put together, and he was the only one with a loaded gun, and he had a hostage. And the two of them moved on him like a team, like they'd trained to do it. Like he didn't have a chance, and the only one who didn't know it was me."
"Julie's on to something. Have you seen them together? Roxy and Kat don't act like they just met him. And the way they hover around him gives me goosebumps."
"Lindsey. You're kidding. Ewww."
"Not like that. It's like … well, I got this crazy idea the two of them have been here undercover, waiting for him to show up so they could make their move."
"So you think they planned all this? Together?"
"All I know is, he got them out first, and they've been working together ever since. Kat opened all the cells and the lockers, and now she's upstairs playing traffic cop. Roxy went hunting with him, for God's sake. I heard they each had her own cell. Maybe the people keeping us prisoner knew something about them we don't."
She was flabbergasted. The whole conversation was repellently crazy, but she couldn't stop listening. She thought of making her presence known, and letting them know she heard them, but she was too embarrassed. She wasn't the only one listening, either; the girls' voices seemed to be traveling all over the guardroom. The rest of the room was getting quieter and quieter.
Finally, one of the guys halfway down her row spoke. It was Leon, a big black guy with blond dreads and the most arresting gold eyes; she'd talked with him before, and he was okay for a jock. He directed his voice over the lockers. "Hey, you girls wanna gossip, you should keep it down. Voices bounce off all these hard surfaces." He looked at her. "Rox and Kat could hear you from anyplace in here, if it's quiet."
"Well, excuse me." But the girls lowered their voices to a murmur. The boy looked at her and shook his head as he left.
One open locker caught her eye and held it. Most of the wardrobes had stuff taped to the insides of the doors: calendars and sports schedules, pinup girls and news clippings, photos of all kinds of stuff from girlfriends to boats. This one had a top-to-bottom montage of family photos: a woman her mom's age and a little girl of eight or ten. The pictures showed them at birthday parties, on vacation, kicking it in the back yard. The man must have taken them all, because he wasn't in any of them, just the wife and daughter.
She wondered if the little girl's dad was lying unconscious upstairs or tossed like rubbish into the shower at the end of the hall. She wondered if she'd ever seen him or spoken to him.
"Think about the cell, Roxanne." Mr. Lynch's voice behind her was quiet but hard as stone. "Somebody brought you down here, helpless and unconscious. They stripped you, locked that slave collar on you, dumped you on your mattress, and turned out the lights. Every mealtime, they were on the other side of that slot in the wall, bringing a tray of food laced with hallucinogens. They listened to you plead for the sound of another voice as they shoved it through into the dark. It was him, just as likely as anyone else. If not, he still knew what was being done to you, and he would have killed me to keep you here."
"The cell is still plenty fresh in my memory, Mr. Lynch," she said, staring at the pictures. "I'm not standing here feeling sorry for him. I'm wondering what sort of story he told himself, to be able to put in a day's work here, and then go home and tuck his little girl into bed and kiss her good night."
Five heartbeats later, he said, "Speaking as one of those people … the number of stories is limitless."
It was completely silent now. A quick glance told her that the two of them were alone in the row. "Where'd everybody go?"
"I make them nervous, I think. They sort of migrated to the other side. We have this half of the place to ourselves."
"How did you know I tried to talk to them? The ones who fed me."
"You're a teenage girl. Of course you were looking for someone to talk to."
"Not funny, Man in Black. Not funny at all."
"Sorry."
"S'alright. How'd your shirt come out?"
"Fine, thanks. Caitlin wrung it dry for me."
Of course she did. Anything to help. Bet she'd cook your rabbits too.
"Something funny?"
"No. I don't think you'll have any trouble getting us to come with you, is all. Have you seen Grunge? Eddie, I mean."
"Eddie Grunge? Doesn't ring a bell."
"You stood on his neck."
"Oh. 'Chang, P.' He came through earlier, seems to be looking for someone. You?"
She forced her jaw to relax. "Maybe."
"Why's he Eddie, or Grunge? What's the 'P' stand for?"
She felt the corner of her mouth lift. "If I told you, and you called him by it, you'd have to stand on his neck again." Right now, I wouldn't mind seeing that.
"Save it for when you're really mad at him, then."
She turned, finally, a question on her lips: how did you know I was mad at him? It vanished when she saw the camouflage jacket in his hands.
"Too big for you, of course," he said. "But you're not going to find anything that fits. The other clean one might fit your sister."
She looked from the jacket to him. "You didn't."
"Of course I did. Before I put any of them in there, I took whatever we might use, including clothing, if it wasn't too messy. Roxanne, it's twenty degrees up there, and dropping fast. There aren't enough warm clothes to go around."
"Thanks. Really. Give it to someone else. I'll find something." She was glad he didn't remind her that whatever she found was just as likely to belong to a corpse in the shower room; he just nodded and turned away.
Presently she found a jacket that had no doubt been passed over by many earlier foragers. It was a black leather piece, sort of punky in style, with lots of buckles and snaps and wide lapels that looked wicked when she turned them up; it looked totally out of place in a government agent's locker. Leather jackets usually weren't warm, but she noticed this one had a zip-out lining that made it serviceable in cool weather. It seemed way too small for one of the guards, but it looked a perfect size to go over her coveralls. She fell in love with it as soon as she saw it.
She worked her way through the lockers on the other side of the aisle. With Mr. Lynch gone, kids had begun drifting back into the row, searching. She noticed that none of them actually joined her, nor spoke to her; there were never fewer than two lockers between her and anyone else, even a kid she'd played cards with that last night. She wished she'd asked Mr. Lynch if Kat was still upstairs; or that she'd stayed with Bobby and Sarah, instead of taking off with Julie; right now, even Grunge would be a welcome sight. Presently she decided to move on. In her present dark mood, she thought the first aid kit might come in handy, and decided to fetch it.
Mr. Lynch had been mistaken; this row hadn't been deserted. Julie and four other girls were sitting on the bench or facing the lockers as she came around. They all stared silently at her as she headed for the utility station. Did they hear me with him?
She kept her voice casual. "Hey, guys. What are you finding?" She took down the first aid kit. "Nobody got a coat yet, huh?" She opened the locker nearest her. "I think most of the troops are upstairs already." With her face in a locker, she said, "I'm glad to see you cleaned up, Julie. People see you all bloodied up, it makes their imaginations run wild, you know? We don't need any stampedes around here." The rest of the row was silent; she might have had the place to herself. "We're in a very bad place right now. We should all be thinking about getting out, and worry about all the other crap later."
She closed the locker doors. Julie was sitting alone on the bench, looking scared.
"Where'd everybody go? Never mind, stupid question. Why are you still here?"
"They really kept you in the dark the whole time? And drugged you?"
She nodded. "And other things. If you're wondering why I'm acting strange, you don't need to look past that. Those rooms are meant for solitary confinement, but we started changing faster than they expected. They aren't just holding pens; they're brainwashing chambers. Eventually, we were all going to end up in one alone. That's when the fun and games begin."
"What did they …" The question trailed off. Not sure you want to know?
She touched a hand to her neck, and then looked down at her hands: just two of them, and right where she expected them. "Doesn't bear thinking about." She looked at the other girl. "But if Mr. Lynch had gotten you out of one after four days, you'd worship him on your knees." Something that had been tickling at the back of her mind came clear, and the shock of it made her sit heavily on the bench. "Ah. God."
"What?"
"He said they'd expected to shove three to five of us alone into those rooms every week, and let us out after we'd … become the way they wanted us. Why forty cells? I just did the math, and it sank in." She took a deep breath and let it out. "I was losing my mind after four days; I think I'd have had sex with somebody to be let out. Seriously. I remember thinking that I wouldn't remember my own name after a month." She felt her nose clog again, and sniffed it back. "They were going to keep us in there for eight weeks. I wouldn't have been bothering with the toilet by then. I see now why they soundproofed the cells. I'd have screamed myself hoarse somewhere along the way, I know it."
Julie slid closer and put an arm around her waist. "God. And I thought I had it rough, waking up naked between Keeley and Kara."
She smiled. The Schaffer twins had an uncanny resemblance to Alicia Keys and were totally vain about it; also, they were not morning people. "What was that like?"
"Well … I can tell them apart now." When they stopped giggling, the girl went on, "Awkward at first. It wasn't like sharing a locker room. You couldn't look away; all those damn reflections. And you couldn't cover up. Before long, we quit trying, and a while later, we realized we weren't noticing. Must've been harder for the boys; they're so hung up about their packages." They shared another giggle. "The worst part was using the toilet in front of each other, and not being able to take a shower."
"Whew. Hadn't thought of that. We must all stink so bad, we don't notice anybody else."
"Uh huh." The girl's voice became thoughtful. "Sharing one dinky mattress was a challenge. We tried sleeping in shifts, then said to hell with it and racked out sideways with our legs on the floor. The 'Oreo' jokes were funny for as long as it took us to fall asleep, about ten seconds. Next morning, if 'morning' it was, I woke up and we were all tangled together, snug as puppies in a box. And the only reason I was uncomfortable was cuz Keeley had her knee on my bladder." Her voice dropped. "Word is, one of those rooms turned into a girl party."
"I so don't want to know. Gross."
"Enough said. Anyway, they weren't bad company. It really wasn't that rough. We were scared, and we spent a lot of time asking each other why this was happening, and what they were going to do with us; the condition we woke up in wasn't reassuring, you know? But it was better than having a room to yourself, sounds like. Uh, Rox … what did they do to Kat?"
She shook her head slightly. "Don't know. We haven't talked." But five days in a room full of mirrors is probably damn scary when you're all alone and the reflections don't look like you.
"Sarah's been sticking to Bobby like glue since they came in here; boy, hasn't that been grist for the mill. Rumor has it they came out of the same cell."
"Huh. Rumor's wrong. Everybody in our pod had their own. They're just a little weirded out, like all us solitaries."
"Eddie doesn't seem any different."
"You've seen him? Where is he?"
"Upstairs or outside, I don't know which. He breezed through here without opening a locker, just talked to a few people on the way to the stairs."
I'm not following him around. He just keeps ending up ahead of me wherever I go. She stood up, and Julie's arm slipped off her. "Thanks for the shoulder, Julie. You're okay."
"Yeah, if I could just keep my big mouth shut. My last words on earth'll probably be gossip."
"I think I'm done down here; most everybody else is gone. We need to keep moving. Which way to the stairs?"
"Opposite corner of the room. I'm gonna stay down here and look for a jacket."
She found a broad set of stairs leading up; she climbed for about thirty feet until they ended in a small building on the surface. Windows on three walls looked out on a large blacktop parking lot, brightly lighted and surrounded by a high fence. It looked to have been plowed recently: the perimeter was banked high with the scrapings. She could hear the low sound of running engines, and muffled voices; several schoolmates were visible through the windows, moving between the parked cars, their breath making clouds that hung in the cold still air.
She went through the only door into an even smaller room. Although a heater was glowing overhead, the temperature was much cooler here, a preview of what was on the other side of the second door. Well, it is March in Minnesota. It's just that the last time I was outside, the snow was something new, a thin blanket on the fallen leaves, not standing in piles all over. It seems like we've been down there forever.
Cold air and a dusting of snow swept in as she opened the door, shrinking the skin on her face as it touched her. But the coveralls did a good job of holding in her body heat, and the jacket was just as warm as she'd hoped. Wish I'd found some gloves, though.
Over the engines and the squeal of starters and the creak and thud of doors opening and closing, Mr. Lynch's voice rose. "If you find a car to match your key, turn it on and check the gas before you start it. If the tank's less than half full, don't bother, just turn on the flashers. If it's got gas but won't start, pop the hood." He appeared from between two cars, saw her, and moved her way.
"Very fashionable." He was looking at her jacket. "Doesn't look very warm, though."
"I'm fine." He wasn't wearing a coat, she noticed; the black shirt was a heavy polo, but it was still just a shirt. He must be freezing. "I presume you found the other coats a good home."
He ignored the remark. "Did you find any car keys?"
"No." She remembered the first aid kit, left behind on the bench downstairs. "Where are the others?"
He pointed towards a utility building at one corner of the lot. "Bobby and Sarah went looking for jumper cables and some way to siphon gas. Caitlin's making sure everybody follows my instructions about the cars. Also, she's going through them, looking for anything we might use."
"What about Eddie?"
Mr. Lynch waved an arm towards a mass of students and parked cars. "Around there somewhere." Before she could start that way, he said, "I've got a job for you, if you don't mind."
"What?"
He looked at the woods beyond the fence. "My car's in the visitors' lot, about a mile away. There's something in it I need to bring back here right away. Can you stand guard at the driveway, and make sure no one leaves before I get back?"
Resigned, she said, "Sure."
He turned and headed for the driveway and the only gap in the fence, about a hundred yards away. "Hey," she said. "You're not driving?"
He shook his head. "There's no connecting road between lots. It'd take me miles by car. I'm walking."
She followed him across the lot. "It's kind of cold out, did you notice? I suppose there's no trail between the lots either."
"Of course there is. The one they used." He looked through the fence at the snowy forest landscape. "Shouldn't take too long; twenty minutes maybe."
She looked at the opening. "There's a rolling gate. You don't need a guard. Just shut it."
He shook his head. "Right now, half these kids will bolt in a blind panic if they see this gate roll shut. Just stand at the opening, Roxanne. Make sure no one tries to leave before I see them." He went through the opening and turned into the woods. The parking lot lights reflected off the snow, which brightened the landscape and contrasted nicely with his black clothing, so she could see him walking through the trees for a couple of minutes before the darkness and the trees swallowed him.
Then, alone again, she stood guard, hands inside her pockets, collar turned up, stamping in the cold. A few minutes later, a car rolled up to the gate, looking like it wasn't going to stop. She waved, and the car put on its brakes, sliding slightly.
There were two in the car: a girl and a boy. The boy, Mike something-or-other, was behind the wheel, staring down the road with way too much white showing in his eyes. The girl was Lindsey Summers, one of the gossips from the locker room downstairs, and her eyes widened at the sight of Roxanne blocking the road. Neither of them had coats. She looked through the window to read the gas gauge: less than a quarter tank. "Did you find the keys for this heap downstairs, or did it have its flashers on?"
The boy shrugged. "It started."
"It'll run out of gas before you find a station. You'll freeze to death. Wait for Mr. Lynch. He's got a plan."
"We've got to get out of here before any more come."
The girl tugged on his sleeve, trying to get his attention.
"We've got to keep from getting caught again, too. Do you have any money? A safe place to go?"
"We'll figure something out." He reached for the shift lever; the girl put her hand on his forearm. He turned to her irritably. "What?"
Roxy injected a stern note into her voice, trying to sound authoritative. "You're not driving this deathtrap out of here. Take it back where you got it and turn the flashers on. Wait for Mr. Lynch. Don't leave until he comes back."
His voice rose. "We're not gonna wait to be rounded up again. Who put you in charge, anyway?"
"Mike!" The girl jerked on his arm. "No! Don't push her."
Softly, she said, "Nobody's gonna get hurt here, Lindsey. But if you leave now, you'll get caught or die. Mr. Lynch can help us; he knows what he's doing. We'd be in those cells until our minds rotted if he hadn't taken a hand. Show a little faith."
"Go back, Mike. It'll be okay."
The boy reluctantly put the car into reverse.
"Lindsey."
The girl stared at her with frightened eyes.
"A week or a month from now, when you find out you can talk to dogs or put ice in your drink without going to the fridge… or make blood shoot out people's ears when they point guns at you… I hope you're not as hard on yourself as you've been on me." Oh, my, didn't that sound weak and self-pitying. Sniff back a tear, why don't you.
She turned her back, looking towards the woods, and listened to the car back and turn, headed back to the lot. Wish I had a watch. How long has he been gone? And where's the rest of my pod? It didn't take us long to scatter. Doesn't anybody wonder where I am?
I don't think I'll want to be alone ever again.
She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets and hugged herself, and she felt the metal case in her coveralls underneath. How could I have forgotten about those? Seconds later, she was lighting up. The cigarette was unfiltered, and the tobacco was rich and almost dizzyingly strong; she took tiny drags mixed with a lot of cold air, and was still buzzing by the time she was halfway through it. She stubbed it and put it back in the case. A lot different from the chopped hay I'm used to; I'll bet they're expensive.
She tried to imagine her life from this moment forward: constantly on the move, staying at fleabag hotels and homeless shelters, always looking over her shoulder. She wondered what she and the others might have to do to eat. She shivered.
Another car approached, cruising slowly towards her this time. She peered at the figures behind the windshield: another twosome, looked like another boy and girl. She briefly wondered if all the escapees might pair off. Would there be enough cars?
As it got closer, she could make out the occupants: Barry driving, with Jen warming the passenger-side armrest. A week before, she would have been surprised to see them sharing a table at lunch.
Barry rolled down the window as the car eased to a stop beside her; he rested an elbow on the sill. The heat escaping through the opening bathed her face. "Hey, Rox. Wait in the car? This heater's, like, nuclear powered."
She'd have liked nothing better, but she was afraid she'd fall asleep in the back of a warm car. "Thanks. Better not. So you're not trying to leave?"
"Nope. We wait for Mr. Lynch. And block the exit, not that it really matters. Word travels fast. I doubt anybody else is going to try the gate. Not with the Man's little pit bull blocking the way." He looked up at her. "Their words, not mine. Leon told me some things. You've still got friends here, Rox. They're just a little scared of anything strange right now, you know?" She didn't remember him having such compelling eyes. "Whatever happened to you in that cell marked you, but it didn't change you. Neither did your gift, whatever it is." He grinned. "You're still everybody's bratty kid sister. Nobody could be scared of you for long."
The boy's words warmed her better than any car heater. "Puh. I never thought you noticed me."
"I wasn't in your circle of friends. But I know everybody; a hundred people aren't that many to keep track of. Besides… I think seeing people is my gift." His eyes got a faraway look. "It started a couple of weeks ago, and it keeps getting stronger. I was getting creepy vibes off all the guards and staff, like they were aliens in rubber masks. At first, I thought I was getting goofy from the seclusion, until I woke up in a cell with two other guys. But everybody look different to me now. I can see things about them that I never did before, as if they were revealing some inner self to me. I'm sure I could look at a total stranger and tell if he's kind or spiteful or likes secrets." His eyes flicked towards the passenger seat, where Jen looked to be falling asleep. "Whether they're bullies or stingy or promiscuous. It's weird. I'm not sure what God wants me to do with it; I'll have to pray on it." He lifted a worn paperback Bible. "I'll take this as a sign. Mine's lost forever on Level One. But I found this one on the front seat of the car. It's dog-eared and highlighted and has notes in the margins. Somebody down there was looking hard for guidance. I hope he's still alive."
She rested her hand on Barry's forearm, and looked off into the woods. "Barry… what about him?"
He looked off into the woodsy dark as well. "He's dark and bright at the same time, like... a shining jewel under layers of soot. Or maybe one of those white dwarf stars that are hidden in clouds of dust. Part of the darkness is depth, like looking into a deep well. He's a very complicated man. And he's a weird talent, like us; I can tell. Right now, he's being eaten up by remorse. Is he really Bobby's dad?"
"Bobby only half believes it, but I think so."
"I haven't seen them together. I don't know if they fit."
"Fit?"
He gave her a head shrug. "I don't know how to explain it. Some people… fit together, like jigsaw pieces. A lot of them are pairing off in cars for the trip out of here. Some odd combinations, too; people who barely spoke in school. And almost all of them boy-girl."
She looked at Jen, apparently asleep against the window. "How'd you guys end up in the same car? Do you 'fit'?"
"Dunno. I can't see myself like that, not even in a mirror. I have to guess, like everybody else." He smiled and shrugged again. "We both want to go someplace warm. And we knew each other before we came here. Two years ago, Jen brought me to Jesus."
Without opening her eyes or moving, Jen said tiredly, "You love the way their jaws drop when you tell that story. But you never finish it. I tossed my Bible in the trash two months later, and I never touched another one. I hope you didn't invite me along, thinking you were going to bring me back to the fold, Barry. As soon as you start preaching, I'm gonna get out and walk. I mean it."
"Jen, I've never done that. I'd be embarrassed to preach to you." He turned to Roxy. "I dated her to win a bet."
Jen's eyes slitted open.
Barry looked over the steering wheel into the road. "Everybody on the team threw in five bucks every week. One or the other of us had been in the pants of every cheerleader on the squad. Except for the captain, Jenny Grier, easily the hottest of the herd. The money was supposed to go to the first guy who tapped her. But nobody could even get a study date.
"One day I was watching her bounce around at practice and I saw this honking big crucifix fall out of her shirt. Aha, says I, while I watch her stuff it back inside, wishing I was the crucifix. We start talking religion, and I let her talk me into visiting her church on Sunday, thinking it might lead to something. It did, but not what I expected. I got baptized.
"Next day at practice, she comes up to me on the sidelines and starts talking to me, eyes shining and wearing a smile that lit up every male on the field; forty guys wished they were me right then. After she left, they surrounded me, and asked me if it was as good as it looked. I told them to mind their own business. The money was in my locker when I came in from practice. I gave it to the church."
Jen sat up. "I thought you were the only nice guy on the team."
"Sorry. Still want to ride with me?"
"More than ever. I was right."
"Roxanne," Mr. Lynch said, "I'm glad to see you with friends." He'd come up to the gate without anybody noticing. He was wearing a long heavy greatcoat; snow crusted the hem like fur. On his head was a fur hat with flip-down ear flaps.
"You look like a Russian border guard."
"And who knows more about keeping warm outside?" Over one shoulder, he was carrying a huge equipment duffel by a strap. He dropped it in the roadway and unzipped it. "My first customers."
The bag was full of money, packages of bills in paper bank wrappers. He pulled out several. "Here. Tens and twenties in used bills, non-sequential serial numbers." He brought them to the window. "Ten thousand each."
Barry looked aghast. "We don't need that. What did you do, rob a bank?"
"Worse. But not for this; it's mine. Come on, you can't steal everything you're going to need."
"Steal? What-"
"The plates." Mr. Lynch explained patiently. "You've got to change them as soon as possible. If you can, take them off a car just like this: color, make, model. Exchange them, don't just steal them; the owner's more likely to spot a missing plate than one that's been switched. Switch again after a couple hundred miles; the second time, you don't need to be so fussy. A couple hundred more, do it again. Now, take this." He pushed the money through the window, and Barry took it.
"Keep it close, but out of sight. Don't flash more than a couple hundred at a time, and don't make any extravagant purchases that someone might remember. Buy clothes, food, tools, and camping gear; you don't have ID to rent a room, and you should stay out of restaurants. Where are you headed?"
"Uh, nowhere, really. Someplace warm. South."
The man smiled. "From here, every place is south and warmer. Ever been to Alabama?"
"Uh, no. We're both from Illinois."
"Good. Don't even drive through Illinois on your way to Alabama; don't go anywhere you've ever been, for a while. You can go east through the Upper Peninsula, then south through Michigan and Indiana, but I don't recommend it; the only way out of the Yoopee is by ferry or the Mackinaw Bridge, which they'll certainly be watching. Go west, then south, maybe through Iowa. Get used to never traveling the shortest distance between two points. Get there without delay, though, then take the plates off the car and ditch it." He took a small spiral notebook and a pen from inside his coat. He filled one page in a close hand, tore it out, and handed it over. "This man will help you, if he knows you come from me, and if you have a little cash. Don't call until you're in town, don't mention any names on the phone, and make sure you use both of these words in a sentence before you talk business, or he won't be wherever he directs you. For two grand each, he'll provide you with decent ID; for a thousand more, he'll set you up with jobs and a safe place to live." He eyed Jen. "Maybe less, if you share a place."
Barry looked up at him. "You're a very unusual guardian angel, Mr. Lynch."
"Oh? How many have you met?"
"Heh. Point taken." He put the car in gear.
"One more thing." He looked grimly from Barry to Jen. "Being on the run is scary and hard. You're going to be tempted to end it by running to the news media. Don't. It would be Russian roulette. IO has too many of those people in its pocket. You'd probably just be exposing yourself needlessly. Believe it or not, the Internet is an even worse choice. Anonymity on the Web is a myth. IO has programs that monitor all Web traffic, and they'll spot you trying to expose their activities. Long before you come to the attention of someone who matters and isn't on IO's payroll, you'll be back in your cages. If, by some miracle, you get the ear of someone who doesn't discount your crazy story, what can you prove?"
"We can bring them back here," Jen said.
"Can you? Do you know where you are?"
"Minnesota. Somewhere just east of Lake Gogebic," Barry said.
"Wrong. You were misled. You're almost two hundred miles from there, in the middle of a national wildlife refuge. No one ever visits here, because hunting is forbidden and there aren't any roads or trails. The only road is a service road for the rangers, and it's gated and locked at the highway." He pointed down the drive. "This one ends at that road, in the middle of the park. If they remove the gravel and plant a few bushes along the roadway, you'll never find it again. If they remove the fence and a couple of structures, you won't find it from the air, either. You'll have exposed yourself for nothing."
"What about a demonstration? Of our gifts, I mean?"
Mr. Lynch shook his head. "Son, do you have any idea how ready people are to be afraid of something they can't explain?" When Barry frowned, he went on. "If you reveal your powers, you've taken away your chief use to these people, and made yourselves a supreme threat. The kid gloves will come off. IO has a propaganda campaign prepared that will make all of you look like terrorists, some rogue state's secret weapon. Think about the current climate of fear since Nine-Eleven. People will line up to turn you in."
Barry looked grim. "Okay, Mr. Lynch. We do it your way. How long do we hide?"
"Until I come for you. Or it's obvious to anyone that IO no longer has any power to harm you. You might be a grandparent by then."
"I hope that's a joke. But all right. Thanks for everything. Take good care of our little girl."
Mr. Lynch looked at her. "I don't know if she's going to come with me."
"I do. You fit." He rolled slowly away as another car eased up.
Keeley, Julie, and Kara, all in the front seat; no one was sitting in the back.
Julie looked up at her apprehensively. "This isn't what it looks like."
She felt the smile cracking her cheeks in the cold. "To me, it looks like you found somebody who's got your back. Honestly, Julie, you've got to stop worrying about what other people think."
"The day she does that, we'll start worrying." Kara was behind the wheel; she gripped it with both hands as she looked through the windshield. "What's he doing?"
"Playing Santa Claus with stacks of money. That duffel's full. Must be a million bucks in there."
"O-kay. But I was talking about him."
She looked down the road. The car with Barry and Jen was stopped about fifty yards down the road; Barry's brake lights were on. A head appeared in the back window. Even at this distance, she recognized Grunge.
He's leaving with her. Without even saying goodbye.
But the left rear door opened and he threw a leg out. The still cold air and the hard landscape let sounds travel much farther than usual; she could clearly hear the snick of the door lock as it opened, the scrape of his shoe sole turning on the pavement as he got out, and the clunk of the door as he shut it. She became aware that she'd taken several steps down the road; Mr. Lynch's instructions to the girls were a background mutter, barely heard, as all her attention focused on the scene ahead of her.
"Man, I can't believe I forgot about you." Barry shook his head. "You were sleeping like the dead."
"Stamping around in the cold takes a lot out of you. I should have been looking for a coat or something, but I was afraid I'd miss you." He reached through the window, and he and Barry did that weird handclasp thing that wasn't a handshake. "If you're gonna stay awake, you better turn down the heater."
"Jen likes it hot. What can I do?"
"Turn it down as soon as she falls asleep, or make her keep you awake. On second thought, maybe you'll focus on the road better if she stays asleep." He walked around to the front of the car, headed for the passenger window. For a moment, she was sure he'd see her, standing in the road between the cars. But his eyes stayed on Jen as he rounded the front of the vehicle.
Jen rolled down the window and smiled up at him as he neared the passenger door. He's going to kiss her goodbye. Of course he is. That's okay, as long as he's staying. I can handle that. As long as he doesn't give her tongue. I don't think I could watch that. But looking away was impossible.
"You could come with us, if you want," Jen said, as he bent down.
"Thanks. But I've got a ride already, I think."
"You do," Barry said. "It'll wait, bro."
Grunge bent his face close to hers. But he didn't kiss her. "Gonna keep your hands off his wings and halo?"
"That's up to him. I might have to do something to shut him up."
"Heh." He straightened as she put a hand over his where it rested on the doorsill.
"Hey," she said. "You know, I always wondered what you'd be like."
Here it comes. God, he's going to kiss her after all.
"Now I'm never going to find out." She patted his hand. Barry said, "Go with God, Percival Edmund Chang."
"And you, Bartholomew Irwin Racer the Fourth."
"Oh, my God," Jen said. "I thought your parents loved you guys."
The brake lights went out, and the car rolled away as the second vehicle with the Oreos rolled by. "See ya, Rox," Julie called. Grunge turned towards the approaching car and saw her. As it rolled past, he trudged towards her. He stopped two steps away, and they regarded each other in silence.
Finally, she said, "I didn't know you and Barry were friends." I guess I don't know you as well as I think I do.
"Only, like, since our first day at school together. I hung out with him most of the time I wasn't with you guys."
"He doesn't seem like your type." How many wrong assumptions have I made about him?
He shrugged, "He wasn't in your circle of friends. But neither was I." First time anyone's called me a snob. I'm a jealous, childish, moody bitch, and I don't know why he puts up with me. Why did I listen to those gossips?
"Mr. Lynch wants to put us up."
"I know. Sounds good to me."
"Bobby doesn't want to go. Can you talk to him?"
He shook his head. "Worst thing you could do, if he already said he wasn't going. He's a rockhead."
"Well, what can we do?"
"If the rest of us decide to go, he'll tag along, even if he says he thinks it's a bad idea. Red's on board, right?"
"We haven't talked, but I'm sure she wants to go with him." But I'm not sure exactly why, which kind of creeps me out.
"That leaves Sarah. Talk her into it, and he'll come along and think it's his idea. I think you should talk to her; you and her are the closest. I don't know why, but she and Kat are barely speaking since Kat started to get her gorgeous on. Maybe she's jealous."
I don't think so, but it's probably something a guy wouldn't understand.
"Okay." She swallowed. Another car passed them by; she didn't even look to see who was inside. "I, uh, thought you and Jen…" Her voice trailed off.
His eyes widened. "Is that what that snit was about?" He seemed so relieved, it was all the confirmation she needed. She'd been wrong, and put him through hell for nothing.
"I couldn't blame you if you were pissed at me for a month."
He took two steps forward and put his arms around her. "Rox. Don't you know by now? Nobody can stay mad at you."