The Fox Inheritance Page 5

  "Locke! Are you paying attention?" Kara pulls on my hand. "We're on the run now. We can't afford for you to go off to la-la land."

  I had lapsed. "I was only--" There is no point in explaining. She knows. Kara can still finish my sentences. I look at her. "Go ahead."

  "Dot says the first thing we're going to have to do is get registered IDs. Transgrids and all public buildings require them before entering."

  "Don't you already have ID for the transgrids, Dot?" I ask.

  "Passengers require them too," Dot answers. "It gets ugly if you hook into a transgrid without proper ID."

  Dr. Gatsbro had told us about transgrids--roadways in most large cities and for major transportation routes. Vehicles enter a ramp and the car's navigation is taken over by the system. They proceed at faster but regulated speeds and are routed to their destinations. The driver actually does very little driving. As with most of Dr. Gatsbro's descriptions, it sounded ideal. There was no mention of IDs or ugly consequences without them.

  "How ugly?" I ask.

  "The car is automatically rerouted to the Office of Security Violations. That is, unless they assess you to be an immediate threat. In that case, you are incapacitated." She makes a brief buzzing sound like a jolt of electricity. "But most survive it," she adds.

  "Lovely," Kara says. "Some good news at last."

  "But," Dot says, and then pauses, waiting until she has eye contact with both of us in her mirror, "I have ways."

  "Tell us," I say.

  "Star Drivers have special access to historical roads for the purpose of tourism, and a few of those roads will get us far enough into the city that you can reach--" She glances over her shoulder to look directly at me. "There are certain individuals who can provide IDs."

  I nod. Some things transcend time, and the black market is obviously one of those things.

  "We don't have any money, Dot. But--"

  "Money? These individuals don't trade in money. They trade in Favor."

  "You mean we'll have to return the favor?"

  Dot glances briefly in the mirror at me and turns her head slightly to the side, like I am speaking a foreign language. "Something like that," she answers.

  "Why are you helping us, Dot?" Kara asks suspiciously. "Is that what you want? A favor?"

  Dot shakes her head.

  "But helping us will get you into trouble," I say. "You said something about being released. Will you lose your job?"

  Dot looks at me but doesn't answer right away. "Just where are you from?" she finally asks.

  Kara squeezes my thigh. "We're from Boston," she says. "We've just been ... away for a while."

  Dot raises a brow. "I see. Yes, I will be released, but since this is my first offense, it will likely be temporary. Maybe only a month of inactive duty and retraining. It is worth it, I think. Star Drivers talk among themselves. We hear stories about Escape. We dream about it and what it would be like. Even though you are a different kind of Escapee, this gives me a glimpse. It will be a story to hold on to and one that I can share with other Star Drivers." She looks sharply at us through the mirror. "That's how we amuse ourselves. We imagine what Escape is like. Even Bots can imagine and have dreams. Seeing the world from a vehicle is limiting."

  I try to process her last words. Even Bots--

  "My God, she's a--" Kara says.

  I jump forward, looking over the seat. Dot has no legs. She has no human shape below her waist. I stare, feeling light-headed. She appears to be plugged in to a console.

  "You don't have--"

  "A whole body? It is considered an unnecessary expense. The Council on National Aesthetics doesn't require them for my line of work. Easy for them to say."

  I fall back in my seat. Neither Kara nor I speak. We have only heard of Bots, never seen one. I expected something different. Something more like a machine. Why didn't Dr. Gatsbro ever show us one? I look at my hand resting on the seat, only a centimeter from Kara's. Both perfect, both flesh and blood, both created in a lab probably not much different from the one Dot was manufactured in.

  "You're disturbed. You didn't know I was a Bot?"

  I shake my head. "Sorry. It's just that--" I look at Kara, hoping she can help.

  Kara leans forward in the seat and speaks softly to Dot. Her voice is slow and kind. "We're not disturbed, Dot. We're lost. Like we said, we've been gone for a long time. A very long time. The world's gone on without us." Her head drops for a moment and then she looks back up. Dot's eyes fix on her through the mirror. "We've had our own version of"--her voice cracks, and she clears her throat--"our own version of being released. We've had years of 'inactive duty.'" She leans closer and whispers, "Do you understand?"

  Dot nods, like she is hypnotized, never taking her eyes from Kara.

  "I thought you would," Kara says. "There's so much we need to know, or we'll never ... escape. Can you tell us everything? Everything we might need to know?"

  Dot's head bobs. "Everything," she says firmly. "I understand. I do." Our revulsion at her half body has been covered up by Kara's careful, soulful plea.

  Kara sits back in her seat, and as she does, she briefly glances at me. Even though her eyes are clear and cold, with none of the warmth I just heard in her voice, I pull her close to me. I don't care. I know what she has done, and it serves us both. I am scared, and I want to survive, and Dot ... she is only a Bot, and she might be able to help us.

  Chapter 14

  Dot tells us the trip to Boston via the side roads will take approximately two hours. Before this, we really had no idea how far we were from anything. Dr. Gatsbro never told us exactly where the estate was, only that it was some distance from Manchester, where his labs were. The landscape is amazingly recognizable. My family had driven through New Hampshire many times to see cousins in Merrimack. If I didn't know how much time has passed, I would think it was still 260 years ago. Except for one thing. If possible, the sky is bluer, or maybe it just seems that way seeing it against deep green pastures, or maybe I'm just appreciating what I never took the time to notice before. Dot tells us that the countryside itself is part of a preserve. Apparently the same council who said she didn't require legs decided humans needed preserved rural lands. I like the idea until I learn that there are no real farmers here. The small groves and farms we see are all government owned and controlled so that they can maximize aesthetics and minimize impact. The only real farms now are on vast, distant tracts of land owned by government-approved corporations. Still, I am hypnotized by the beauty, which I guess is the point.

  White split-rail fences meander over hills, and when I spot a red barn in the distance, I point it out to Kara and wonder for a moment if this could all be a horrible dream and no time has passed at all. But then I look at the iScroll patch on my palm, as thin as a tattoo and just as firmly secured, and I think about Dot and her half body just an arm's length from me. This is my new reality. Time has passed. My world is gone forever.

  We crest the top of a hill, and I'm just about to point out a flock of sheep in a distant pasture, when a large shadow passes over us. Kara and I both strain to look out our windows and up into the sky.

  "Yip, that's a low one!" Dot says.

  "A low what--"

  And then we see it. An enormous craft of some sort, so large I can't even see all of it yet, so large that it is still casting a shadow over us. And then it passes, and the sunshine returns.

  Kara is now dipping her head and looking out the front window. "What is that?"

  "A sweeper? You haven't seen one before? Well, usually they don't fly that low in their cycles. There must be a minor disturbance somewhere nearby. They're easy to miss otherwise."

  We find that Dot is a wealth of information, the kind of cab driver who is well versed in all interests to accommodate her customers. She tells us that sweepers have been around for over a hundred years. They're the vacuum cleaners of the sky. They were developed after a monster volcano in Yellowstone blew and plunged much of the world
into winter for several years, but they weren't invented soon enough to prevent massive starvation and disease. Millions of people died worldwide. The workforce was so severely depleted it gave rise to the proliferation of Bots.

  "The world was lucky, actually. It could have been much worse--they said the explosion wasn't even half of what it could have been. Eventually the ash settled into jet streams, so the whole race didn't vanish. A warning, really, to all the Eaters and Breathers."

  We learn that is what the Bots call us, the Eaters and Breathers, like we are spineless slugs at the mercy of our biology and the environment, which I suppose we are. At least I think Kara and I are in the class of Eaters and Breathers. I'm not sure I can trust anything Dr. Gatsbro told us.

  "Now they mostly patrol in the upper atmosphere waiting to be called into use. Some hostile countries and a few Non-pacts still resort to primitive biowarfare, but the sweepers usually make those attacks a futile game of pounding chests. Of course, every decade or so a nuclear attack isn't intercepted by Galactic Radar Defense and then the sweepers are brought into overtime--all air travel is grounded. That can last for weeks."

  I stare out the window as Dot tells us more and more about this world that I don't understand and don't fit into. As she talks, I take in every green hill, every pond, every sheep, and every cow. I tell myself some things are still the same. Some things.

  We'll be okay.

  I look at Kara. She nods and squeezes my hand.

  Some things are still the same.

  Chapter 15

  I was scared when we moved. I came home from my first day at the new school, and I didn't want to go back. I was sure I would never make it. It was intense. Way more intense than my last school, and I was starting midsemester. I was certain I would never catch up. I wanted to go back to my old school, where I at least knew who would steal my lunch money. My mom didn't want to hear that. This whole move was for me and my sister. I heard the whispers in the kitchen when my dad got home and then he came to my room to talk about it.

  "I don't fit in, Dad. Nothing's the same. I might as well be on another planet. It's completely different from Bellwood High."

  "Different isn't necessarily bad, Locke. Just different. And in this case, I know it's a good thing. Trust me. You're just a little overwhelmed today."

  I jumped on his words, emphasizing that I would never fit in, because I was certain he didn't hear me the first time I said it. I hoped that would end the conversation. It didn't.

  "It takes time," he said firmly. "Think of it as a journey, Locke. A long one. Not a sprint. You'll find your way." He pulled my desk chair closer to the bed where I was lying and sat down. I knew I was in for a long one. "Sure there are going to be changes, even detours and setbacks--probably lots of them. But you have to remember what's important. The goal."

  He leaned forward and wove his fingers together, looking at his hands. I looked at them too. He worked in construction. His hands showed the years of his trade, the scars, and the cracks. He was good at his work, but it was backbreaking and unreliable. I knew he wanted something different for me. He raised his eyes to mine. "You can make a difference in this world, Locke, but you have to be patient and determined and not let a few fears derail you. Focus on the goal and not on where the road is bumpy. It's rough for everyone at some point, but some people keep going and others give up. Don't be one of those who give up."

  Is that what my brother did? Give up on his own dreams and theirs? I nodded, still wanting to give up but hoping my nod would make him leave. He squeezed my shoulder, but I could tell he was reading my mind. He knew me too well. He stood to leave and then paused at my bedroom door.

  "Picture yourself five years from now, son. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there. I believe in you, Locke. Your mother and I both believe in you. You can do this."

  Picture yourself five years from now....

  I look at the iScroll in my palm, the landscape I don't recognize, and the Bot who is driving me through it. I had tried to picture a lot of things that night, but I never pictured this.

  Chapter 16

  "Here we are," Dot says.

  Our doors open automatically, but neither Kara nor I get out. We are at the end of the historic road. Ahead of us are remnants of Route 90 and where it once continued on into the city, but from this point, it is rubble and weeds.

  "Don't worry," Dot adds. "About a half kilometer down, most of the road is there again. This was one of the invasion points." The invasion. How could Dr. Gatsbro not mention a small detail like the Civil War of 2112 and the dividing of the United States into two nations? Which United States are we stepping into? The Democratic States of America or the American United Republic? Kara joked that her geography was all blown to hell now. But she wasn't smiling. Neither was I.

  "Go on," Dot says. "I'll meet up with you just where I told you. Oh--and if you are approached by any nasty Non-pacts, tell them you are Migration Security. With those clothes on, they'll believe you. And if they should close in, just pretend you're reaching for your Security tazegun. They'll scatter."

  We can hope.

  I begin to step out on one side, and Kara on the other.

  "One more thing--"

  We both gladly delay our departure.

  "If for some reason I don't make it, will you remember my name? My whole name. Dot Jefferson. That's the name I gave myself. If you get in another Star Cab, tell them about me. The other drivers know my name. Not just the assigned DotBot#88 that Star gave me. What kind of name is that anyway?"

  I look at Dot. She is only a Bot--a half Bot even--of wires and chips and programming. A DotBot#88, but whatever she is, she's helped us.

  "It's no kind of name at all," Kara says.

  And I add, "We'll see you again, Dot Jefferson."

  She nods her head in her own peculiar way. "Good luck, Escapees."

  The tone of her voice chills me. It holds hope like my mother's voice did when she sent me off to school in the new neighborhood.

  We step out of the car and watch Dot wind her way back down the historic road, headed for the transgrid. When she is out of sight, we turn and look at the path ahead of us. The city lies just beyond it, but it doesn't look like the Boston I remember.

  Chapter 17

  The city doesn't sprawl like it used to. The landscape surrounding us that used to hold neighborhoods, streets, and factories has changed. It is eerily empty. It's like the city has rolled up its doormat into a tight ball. I don't feel welcome. We see a few developments in the distance, houses maybe, but forest has swallowed up most of the rest, covering up the scars of history like a green bandage. I knew the city streets. I don't know forests. Even with Dot's detailed instructions and the remains of a long-ago road, I feel lost already.

  Francis Street, I tell myself. Just make it to Francis Street.

  I look at Kara. She surveys the landscape too. She looks in both directions and briefly closes her eyes. I wonder if she's having second thoughts about leaving the safety of the estate.

  "We were only property, Locke," she says, shaking her head. "We had to leave. I hate him for what he did."

  It's hard to believe that just this morning we were parroting our lessons and Kara was calling Dr. Gatsbro our savior. He did save us, but does that give him the right to control the rest of our existence? Kara's rage becomes my own. The anger feels good, empowering; it squeezes out my fears. It's a better place to be.

  We can do this together.

  Kara stares at the city. "After two hundred sixty years we deserve this."

  After two hundred sixty years. Every time she says that, a part of me dies all over again. The party, the car, it was all my idea. I pull her close and press my lips against her hair, breathing in her scent. Her arms tighten around me, and she presses her cheek against my chest. I feel her heartbeat, and I know she feels mine. Maybe now that we're away from the estate, we can finally have more. The more we deserve. More of eac
h other. Maybe this is what we needed all along to fill the empty space in us. But I have to be smart about this, and follow Dot's directions. I have to get us out of here. Fast. We only have a couple more hours of daylight left, and even though I want to hold on to Kara and never move, I gently push her away. I can't make mistakes.

  "We need to get going."

  She agrees and we set out across the broken landscape.

  The rubble is uneven. Every step must be carefully placed. We're cautious as we approach blind crests. We are not exactly sure what Non-pacts are. Thieves? Worse? But we know to avoid them, or at least try to.

  The walk is strenuous. Kara and I help each other climb over huge blocks of concrete and then carefully make our way down cascading piles of rubble overgrown with weeds, always with a watchful eye for movement around us. We stop for just a moment to rest, eyeing the next towering mound of concrete. What lies on the other side? "Got your tazegun ready?" I ask.

  "Of course," Kara answers. She reaches down and snaps off a small piece of a branch from a dead bush and stuffs it in the band of her pants, pulling her shirt over to cover it. She pats the bulge it creates. "At least I have something deadly to reach for now."

  I smile, thankful for even this small bit of humor in a situation that's so precarious. Here we are in the middle of nowhere in a world we don't recognize, relying on the directions of a half Bot, the security of a broken branch, and hoping for black market IDs. Kara's face is smudged with dirt, and her hair is tangled from the breeze. She doesn't look like Queen Kara anymore.

  I eye some rocks at our feet and pick one up that fits my hand well. "I think I'll rely on old-fashioned technology."

  "Caveman," she says.

  We continue toward the city and finally reach the flat stretch and the remnants of the old highway Dot told us about. It seems like we've traveled much farther than the half kilometer she described to us, and we still have three kilometers to go to reach our destination on the outskirts of the city. The sun is low in the sky. I walk faster. Kara matches my pace.