Feedback

“I had that feedback stuff all night,” he said.

“Really?”

He looked up at me. “It’s like a dream, but you know it’s real.”

“Where’s your dupe?”

“Back at school. Like nothing ever happened. The first minute I was aware of him he was in the car, going through the gate again. Ms. Vaughn was driving.”

“So they’re just dropping him off like he’s one of the human kids?”

He nodded. “There were others in the car. Humans. Kidnapped. They’re scared.” He looked over at me. “They never used to do that before—kidnap people. Everyone who arrived at Maxfield wanted to be there.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “We’re going to stop them.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced.

I pushed past him and out the door, hopping down to the ground. “I’m headed up to the fort. I want that hatchet.”

“’Kay.”

There was a little activity in the barracks as I passed—talking and laughing from one, small plumes of chimney smoke from two more.

I could see a bunch of people getting feedback. Anna, one of the old V’s, was sitting on the ground in shorts and a T-shirt, a bath towel in the dirt beside her. She looked like she’d fallen over, but she was smiling. Something good was happening somewhere.

I picked up her towel and draped it over her goose-bumped legs.

There were three more incapacitated, all in the road. One was close to the river, and her friend was sitting next to her, making sure she didn’t fall in.

Things were happening in the fort. Six guys were already up and in the courtyard. It looked like the fresh lumber from the work site had been brought up here, and they were fixing the boardwalk.

Mouse sat on a bench, watching them and sipping something steaming from a metal cup. She scowled when she saw me.

“Is that a new coat?” I asked her as I passed by. Instead of the old too-big leather jacket she always had on, she now wore a long double-breasted wool coat that hung almost to her knees. It looked far too stylish and clean for this town.

“Maybe if you’d go outside once in a while you’d get a new one, too,” she said. “New shipment came yesterday. You missed it. What are you doing in that barn, anyway?”

“Nonstop party,” I said. I noticed now that four of the six guys had new coats, too.

“Where are you going?” Mouse called as I kept going.

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t like she couldn’t see across the courtyard.

I knocked on Carrie’s door, just in case someone new had moved in. There was no answer. I pushed it open.

The place had been ransacked—all her boxes were overturned and empty, and the blankets and mattress had been taken from the bed. Most of the pictures from her walls had been torn and trampled on the dirty floor. The cloth mural was gone, but the wooden panel remained in place. I pulled it out and climbed up into the Basement one last time.

The hatchet was just where I’d left it, the android’s blood still staining the wooden handle.

I dropped back down into Carrie’s room. I took a final look, and then stepped outside onto the walkway.

One of the guys was on the ground. They all were, a long two-by-four lying across one of their chests.

I ran into the center of the courtyard. Was it feedback?

Mouse was slumped over on the bench, her steaming coffee now spilled and seeping into the boards beneath her.

“No.”

There was a rumble somewhere, like the truck but louder.

Iceman was coming. And Becky was alone on the far side of town, asleep.

Dammit. There hadn’t been a warning bell. With Birdman gone, were there even guards on the roof anymore? I ran to the broken fort door. A truck was coming into view. I could go hide in the Basement, but that wasn’t going to save Becky.

I ran for the ladder that led up onto the roof.

Whatever was rumbling was big—bigger than the pickup I’d seen. Was it the flatbed? Bringing more lumber for the work site?

The awning was a mess of loose shingles and decaying wood. I scrambled up and onto the adobe roof, dropping flat to hide.

What was that noise?

My heart was pounding like a bass drum, even louder than the increasing roar of whatever was coming down the road. I scooted across the roof, trying to find the balance between silence and speed. When I peeked over the edge, I had a view of the stream and the tops of the barracks. I didn’t see anyone—human or android.

There wasn’t time to wait or to think. I slid over the edge, the weather-beaten adobe crumbling to dust under me, and dropped down to the ground outside the fort.

Pain shot through my legs, and I sprawled forward onto my face, getting a mouthful of cold sand. The hatchet flew from my hand, tumbling across the frozen grass.

I left it. Waking Becky was more important. I fought against the pain and climbed to my feet, racing across the frozen ground toward the cover of the stream. It wasn’t far—maybe fifty yards—but it was out in the open. All I could hope was that Iceman had gone into the fort.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I didn’t feel anything as I crashed through the dry branches of the trees and splashed down into the stream. It wasn’t until I was on the other side that I dared turn and look behind me.

There was no sign of what was making the huge noise.

I could see the front of the parked truck, but not Iceman. The snow was falling a little heavier, but not enough to block my view.

I crept up the bank, my panic receding. I had to think, to move quieter and smarter.

I ran from building to building, crouching low and judging my footsteps carefully. After the noise I’d made in the trees, the fear of stepping on a twig was probably unfounded, but I avoided them anyway. I stopped at the cement wall of the washroom and listened, then ran behind the first barrack and did the same. It probably took less than two minutes to get from the stream to the barn, but it felt like an hour.

Curtis had fallen from the doorway and lay on his side in the dirt, a small scrape on his forehead from the landing.

I jumped past him and into the dark, silent interior.

The four girls all still lay on their cots, motionless.

I ran to Becky’s side, shaking her awake.

She opened her eyes slowly. “Bense?”

“Iceman’s here. We have to get to the tunnel,” I said. “Now.”

I ran back to the doorway.

“Dammit.”

“What?” She was behind me now, peering out the door.

The red pickup was coming down the road. It had passed the washroom.

I ducked back inside. “They’ll see us.”

Becky didn’t wait. She ran to the back of the building, darting around our collapsed friends, and to a window. I followed.

“What about them?” Becky said, motioning to the immobilized girls while she tried to shove the window open.

“They’ll be fine,” I said, adding my strength to hers. “Maxfield only wants us.”

“Unless they know about our plans.”

The window was stuck. Nothing in this barn was built right. The window frame was probably out of square.

I could hear the truck now.

Becky told me to move, and almost before I could she smashed a piece of firewood through the glass. The shattering sounded like an explosion.