Sovereign (Sovereign Series) (18 page)

They
set the crate six feet ahead of ours.  Jacob takes a knee by their trade, and
picks up what I think is a vegetable.  He squeezes it, sniffs it, then grabs
another.  “And the grains?” 

“In
the truck,” the man says forcefully, as if he’s not ready to show us the good
stuff yet.  “Open it.”  I notice a side arm that his hand hovers dangerously
close to.  With a group as menacing as ours, I would assume he has good reason
to be cautious, but none of our soldiers’ arms are even visible (though I know
they have them).

Jacob
unlocks and opens the bin from Antius.  He takes out a smaller container, and
pulls out a vial of blue liquid.  He holds it up for the man to see. 

The
man calls out behind him, “Test it.”  A squirrelly man in gray ratted clothing
approaches us with a low-tech looking device.  Jacob pours a dab of the liquid
onto a sensor on the guy’s gadget.  After a few minutes the device analyzes the
substance, and gives an alert, though I can’t see it. 

“The
med’s good,” Squirrelly says.  Medicine?  We trade medicine for food?  Have we
done it before?  Because I’ve never seen real food in Antius.

The
big man takes a deep breath, “What else?  We didn’t bring all this for one
med.”

“We
brought the one you need most.  And plenty of it.”  Jacob puts the vial back
and returns the case to the bin.  Then his hands cross behind his back with his
shoulders stiff.  I recognize that posture.  There’s not a sign of tension in
him, but I can tell the big man from the other group is getting angry.  His jaw
is tense, and a vein in his forehead is standing tall.

“We
need them all.”  The man doesn’t grab his gun, but I can tell he wants to.  “If
our people die of infection, who’ll grow your food for you?” 

“You’re
going to have to take the deal or leave it,” Jacob tells him.  The man’s gun
hand twitches, and I’m not the only one who sees it.  Sean pulls his weapon,
and Wilson doesn’t scold him.  I realize this situation is definitely not what
anyone had in mind today. 

“This isn’t how we’ve been doing business.  Cornelius--”

“Well,
this is how we’re doing business now.”

The
man growls, “We’ll give you half.  Next time bring all the meds we asked for.”

“We’ll
take it all,” Jacob says with a nod toward Sean.  In the second it takes me to
register what’s happening, Sean pulls the trigger, hitting the man in the
chest.  I pull my own gun instinctively, and duck behind our bin.  Everyone
around me scrambles with weapons in hand, firing on the other group, and them
firing back. 

It’s
the perfect distraction.  I need to run now.  I look toward the other group’s
vehicle where all of our men are advancing and firing on them.  I see a young
man dart from the cab of their vehicles towards the shrubs on the edge of the
lot.  If I follow him, maybe he can take me to his colony.  Maybe they won’t
shoot me if I can convince them I wanted out of Antius. 

Without
another thought, I take off after him knowing he’s my only hope.  My feet hit
pavement hard and fast.  When I hear my breathing grow heavy, I realize the
shooting has stopped.

“Freeze,”
a soldier yells, and a bullet hits the ground beside me.  I stop in my tracks
and turn back toward Wilson and his men, my gun still in my hand.  Jacob is
staring through to my core, a blended look of betrayal and satisfaction across
his face.  I get the sense that no one would mind terribly if I didn’t return
with the group.

“The
kid’s getting away,” I yell back to them, pointing at the kid a few feet from
falling into the shadow of the shrubbery.  To make it convincing, I fire a shot
his direction but intentionally miss.

When
I turn back, I realize Sean’s gun is the only one aimed at me, and I assume he
took the shot that barely missed me.  If I took a shot at Sean, I wouldn’t
miss. 

“Let
him go, then,” Wilson calls to me, eyeing Jacob as if awaiting orders.  He
doesn’t know what Jacob is thinking any better than I do.  “Let’s load up.”

The
men who just slaughtered a convoy begin looting their truck, taking all the
crates and loading them on ours.  I jog to catch up, as Sean’s gun is still
trained on me.  I grab a crate of food and load it, falling in line with the
others.  I can feel the heat of Jacob’s gaze on my back, and I don’t look up to
meet it.  While two other men take the weapons of those they killed, I check
the cab of their truck.

“Take
the keys,” Jacob shouts to me.  “Don’t want the kid driving back to his
people.  If we’re lucky, he’ll die out here on his own.  I want them to come
looking so this will be a warning to them.”  What warning?  Our way or no way?

“I
think I hit him, sir,” I lie, hoping he won’t go looking.  When I realize no
one can see what I’m doing in the cab, I grab the keys from the ignition and
take the truck key off the ring and drop it in the cup holder, hoping the kid
will come back and find it.  Maybe he’ll make it home safely.

I
turn back to the group to find Jacob, yet again, keeping his eye on me.  I
pretend not to notice. 

After
loading a few more crates from their truck, we load up into our own.  The cargo
space is packed much tighter now because of all the loot, but it smells
amazing.  Some crates contain vegetables, some fruits, some grains.  And one other
crate holds fresh bread.  It’s mouthwatering, and like nothing I’ve ever
smelled inside the compound.

I
wonder who gets to eat it?  It sure isn’t the citizens of Antius.  We pull back
onto the road and I try to prepare myself for the long trip back to the prison
I thought I would never have to see again.  The smell of bread reminds me over
and over how hungry I am, and I begin to feel a pang.

I
wonder if they’ll ever let me go on a convoy again.  I might need a new escape
plan.  Titus did me a huge favor getting me this gig.  Will he do it again?  Am
I back to the idea of climbing an electrically charged fence and facing a
forcefield I can’t even see?

Shuffling
sounds jar me from my thoughts, and I realize Wilson is holding a basket and
handing something out to the men.  He must know we’re starving.  When he gets a
little closer, I see his hand in the dim lighting wrapped around a piece of
bread, and my own excitement over it sickens me.  These soldiers just killed
nine men, and left another for dead, and I was a part of it.  Now we’re eating
their bread.

If
I wasn’t starving, I would reject the bread on principle, but there’s no way
that situation would help now or once we get home and explain everything to
Nathan.  I take the bread. 

And
it’s amazing.

I’ve
never had fresh bread.  The bread they give us, which isn’t much, is always on
the stale, crunchy side.  This bread is so soft and moist it practically melts
on my tongue.

 
The drive home feels twice as long as the ride out.  I can’t seem to get
comfortable with the idea of falling asleep with this twisted bunch of
soldiers, especially the one who shot and missed.  I’m sure he’d like to make
up for it soon.  I’d just begun thinking maybe we could put away whatever
childhood issues had caused the dissension between us.  It seems, instead, that
he was merely waiting for an opportunity to present itself.  I’ll have to watch
my back and make sure I don’t give him another chance.

Irony
is that they call the men that chased my dad and me when I was a child
savages.
  I see the soldiers of Antius as no
different, no better.  At least it was hunger and chemical imbalance that drove
those monsters to kill.  The men that ride this truck with me, and the men that
run Antius, are levelheaded, balanced, and, for all intents and purposes,
they’re fine.  Yet it’s these men that are the real monsters.  Nathan is a
monster, and every person that fires a gun on his behalf.

I’ve
never been afraid of guns if they are used for the right reasons.  Protection,
hunting food.  Not corruption, nor manipulation of power.  Not to slaughter the
people who don’t agree to our terms of a deal.  Not this.

I
wonder how many others have been killed by Antius.  How many
meetings-gone-bad.  Jacob and Wilson didn’t flinch when things turned sour.  It
was business as usual. 

I
fight to keep from throwing up my bread, then the truck rolls onto the bumpy
ground, and up it comes.  I hear a chuckle and look to meet eyes with Jacob,
who grins. 

“Fresh
bread’s a little rich for a bland-fed belly.  Should’ve warned you, I
suppose.”  He laughs again. 

I
look down to the small pile of my own vomit and hope we arrive in Antius before
the smell of it ticks everybody off.  Or worse, it might make them sick, too. 

I
catch myself looking back and forth from person to person and realize I’m
liable to draw attention.  They’re going to know something’s not right, so I
force myself to lean back and close my eyes like I had on the way here--act as
naturally as I can.

“Do
we all have to speak in the debriefing?” I hear Sean ask. 

“You
have nothing to worry about, soldier.”  Wilson gives an encouraging nod.

“No
one will have to
say
anything,” Jacob says, pointing to the
chip in his neck.  “We’ll see for ourselves.” 

That’s
it.  We’re checking in when we get back, and I’m a goner.  They’re going to
know I tried to run, that I didn’t shoot anybody, and that I left the key for
that kid. 

How
far back will they go?  Just today?

What
if they go back far enough to see Titus with me in medical and in the truck in
no man’s land?  Will they kill him, too?  I knew letting him too close was a
mistake.  And I know as well as I know my name, they’re going to go back as far
as they can to find something incriminating in my optical recordings.

Another
detail plays at the edge of my consciousness, but I can’t focus on it.  I
squeeze my eyes and try to grab hold of it and pull it from the darkness, but
it eludes me.  What am I forgetting?  Fighting so hard to find it, I pull
myself farther in until I drift to sleep.  Exhaustion and hunger make sure I
stay there until we slow down and I hear the familiar screeching of the gates
of Antius. 

When
the gates are closed behind us, the driver opens the doors and we spill out
into chaos.  It’s early morning and what looks like the entire colony is in a
frenzy on the lawn.  They are being corralled into lines that lead to a row of
booths.  I can’t tell yet what’s happening inside the booths. 

“Line
up with the rest of them,” Jacob tells us, and even Wilson looks surprised.  We
fan out to get in line, most of us looking confused, but I get the sense I’m
the only one truly concerned.  The rest of them are obedient.  All but me.

I
look at all the faces, scanning them.  I see soldiers, mothers, caretakers,
cleaners, lawn keepers.  In one line I see men that get off on the science
floor.  I realize this is where Dylan should be.  I walk toward them eagerly
trying to find him, but no one even close to Dylan’s height stands out.  I push
through a grouping to look at the next line.  Don’t see him.

A
group of men shuffle my way and press me toward the front of the lines and I
lose my balance, bumping into the base of the platform that the lines lead to. 
In each booth, I see a citizen with a computer attached to their neck.  An
operator scrolls through images on a special monitor, flicking them over with
their finger tips.  They’re moving so fast I don’t know how they can see
anything.  Whatever they’re looking for must be specific.  Either that or their
brains process at an inhuman rate, which I doubt.

“Back
of the line, kid,” a man near the front says.  I guess they’ve been waiting a
while--they all look exhausted.

I
rush to the end of the line and keep looking.  A shoulder hits mine hard, and I
turn to look at the offender who steps away.  Movement catches my eye and I
spot Alyssa rushing toward someone--Dylan.  They’re still several lines over so
I rush to meet them.  Before I’m close enough to call out to them, Alyssa
throws her arms around Dylan and he pulls away from her and appears to scold
her.  His eyes dart around, probably hoping no one saw the contact. 

But
I saw it, and my chip recorded it.

I
stop in my tracks staring at nothing as the lost memory finally returns to me. 
In medical that night after Twig was killed, I ran after Titus and Dylan
stopped me.  He told me about the chip and what it could do.  He warned me, and
told me not to look at him. 

I
remember heading back to my room, but I looked around first to see if anyone
was near.  I know I went straight back just like I was supposed to.  A ton of
bricks hits me in the stomach as I realize when I looked both ways up and down
the hall, I caught Dylan in my peripheral vision. 

I
look away from Dylan and Alyssa immediately, not wanting any further evidence
against them.  They are about to scan my memory and find out that Dylan has
been places he’s not authorized to be, that he’s manipulated his clearances,
and that he’s physically touched
two
of Antius’s girls without a mating
sanction.  He’s just as guilty as I am.  And Alyssa.  And Titus.