Crossed

CHAPTER 29 KY

“Do what you want,” the man calls out when I reach the edge of the graveyard. “It doesn’t matter. I am the last.”

If I hadn’t already known he was a farmer, his accent and the formality of his speech would have given him away. My father sometimes had a hint of their inflection in his voice when he came back from the canyons.

I told the others to stay behind but of course Indie didn’t listen. I hear her coming up behind me and hope that Cassia and Eli had the sense to stay in the house.

“Who are you?” the man asks.

Indie answers behind me. I don’t turn around. “Aberrations,” she says. “People the Society wants dead.”

“We came into the canyons to find the farmers because we thought you might help us,” I say.

“We’re done with that,” the man says. “Finished.”

Footsteps. Behind us. I want to turn around and call to Cassia and Eli to return to the house but I can’t turn my back on the man.

“So there are four of you,” he says. “Any more?”

I shake my head.

“I’m Eli,” Eli says behind me.

For a minute, the man doesn’t answer. Then he says, “My name is Hunter.” He looks at us closely. I do the same. He’s not much older than we are, I realize, but wind and weather have marked his face.

“Did any of you live in the Society?” he asks.

“We all did,” I say. “At one time or another.”

“Good,” Hunter says. “I might need something from you.”

“In exchange for what?” I ask.

“If you can help me,” Hunter says, “you can have access to whatever you want. We have food. Papers.” He waves his hand wearily in the direction of the storage caves. Then he looks at me. “Though it appears you might have already helped yourselves.”

“We thought this place was empty,” Eli says. “We’ll give it all back.”

Hunter makes an impatient gesture. “It doesn’t matter. What is it you want? Things for trade?”

“Yes,” I say.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Cassia and Indie exchange glances. Hunter notices it too. “What else?” he asks.

Indie speaks up. “We’d like to know more about the Rising,” she says. “If it’s somewhere near here, how we can find it.”

“And who the Pilot might be,” Cassia says eagerly. Of course she wants to know about the rebellion, since it seems to be mentioned in a poem from her grandfather. I wish I’d told her everything back on the Hill. She might have understood then. But now, after she’s begun to hope — I don’t know what to do.

“I might have some answers for you,” Hunter says. “You help me and then I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Let’s get started,” Indie says. “What do you want us to do?”

“It’s not that easy,” Hunter says. “We have to go somewhere, and it’s getting too dark. Come back here tomorrow when it’s light.” He reaches for the shovel he used for the grave and I motion for the others to step back.

“How do we know we can trust you?” I ask.

He laughs again, that same humorless laugh. A faint echo of it bounces back from the walls of the canyon and among the empty houses. “Tell me,” Hunter says. “In the Society, do people really live to be eighty?”

“Yes,” Cassia says. “But that’s only for Citizens.”

“Eighty,” Hunter says. “We almost never reach eighty in the Carving. Do you think it’s worth it?” he asks us. “To have no choice, but to live so long?”

“Some people think it is,” Cassia says quietly.

Hunter passes his blue-marked hand across his face and what he said earlier is suddenly true. He’s done. Finished. “Tomorrow,” he says. He turns around and walks away.

Everyone sleeps in the little house. Eli, Cassia, Indie. I stay awake and listen. Their breathing makes it sound as though the house itself breathes in and out but of course the walls hold still. I know Hunter won’t harm us but I can’t rest. I have to keep watch.

Sometime near the approach of dawn, when I’m standing in the doorway looking out, I hear a sound from the other side of the room. Someone’s awake.

Indie. She comes toward me.

“What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even. I recognized Indie the moment I saw her. She is like me — a survivor. I don’t trust her.

“Nothing,” Indie says. In the silence I hear her shift the pack. She never lets it out of sight.

“What are you hiding in there?” I ask.

“There’s nothing to hide,” she says, an edge to her voice. “Everything in here belongs to me.” She pauses. “Why don’t you want to join the Rising?”

I don’t answer. We stand in silence for a little while. Indie pulls her pack over her shoulder and holds it tightly against her chest. She seems far away. I am too. Part of me is back with Cassia under the stars in the Carving. On the Hill with the wind. Back in the Borough when I was young, I never would have believed any of this could happen. I never dreamed I could steal so much from the Society.

I hear someone stirring. Cassia.

“She dreams about Xander,” Indie whispers behind me. “I’ve heard her call his name.”

I tell myself that the scraps Xander hid in the tablets don’t matter. Cassia knew Xander and she still chose me. And the scraps won’t last. The port paper deteriorates so quickly. They’ll turn to flakes as delicate as snow. As spent and silent as ash.

I can’t lose her now.

Lived in the Outer Provinces for much of his life.

Peers listed Ky Markham’s name as the student they most admired 0.00 % of the time.

No one was ever going to get a list about me.

And no one who loves someone else would want that person to have a Match like me.

Does loving someone mean you want them to be safe? Or that you want them to be able to choose?

“What do you want?” I ask Indie.

“I want to know Xander’s secret,” Indie says.

“What do you mean?”

In answer she holds out a scrap of paper. “Cassia dropped this,” Indie says. “I didn’t give it back.”

I know I shouldn’t take the scrap but I do. Careful to keep the light away from Cassia and Eli, I switch on my flashlight to read the paper:

Has a secret to tell his Match when he sees her again.

A line like that would never be included on Xander’s official microcard. He added something new. “How did he do it?” I ask in spite of myself, as though Indie would know. The Society carefully monitors all typing and printing. Did he risk using a port at school? At home?

“He must be very smart,” Indie says.

“He is,” I say.

“So what’s the secret?” Indie asks, leaning closer.

I shake my head. “What makes you think I’d know?” I do know and I’m not telling.

“You and Xander were friends,” Indie says. “Cassia told me so. And I think you know a lot more than you say.”

“About what?” I ask.

“Everything,” she says.

“I think the same about you,” I say. “You’re hiding something.”

I shine the flashlight full on her and she blinks. In the light she looks almost blindingly beautiful. Her hair is a color that isn’t seen very often, a fire color of red and gold. And she’s tall and fine-featured and strong. Wild. She wants to survive, but there’s an element of unpredictability about how she’ll do it that keeps me on edge. “I want to know the secret,” she says. “And how to find the Rising. I think you know the answers. You won’t tell Cassia, and I think I know why.”

I shake my head but don’t speak. I let the silence hang between us. She can fill it if she chooses.

For an instant I think she will. Then she turns away and walks back to the spot where she slept. She doesn’t look at me again.

After a moment I walk back to the door and steal outside. I open my hand to the wind and let the scrap blow away into the last of the night.