Among the Enemy (18 page)

"No," Matthias said. "I bet we can have some in here in five minutes."

"How?" Mike asked.

But Matthias was already bounding out the doors, ready to wake up the people sleeping on the street.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The next several hours passed in a complete blur. The starving people from the streets came in first, stumbling and rubbing their eyes and squinting as if they couldn't believe the sight before them.

"Take as much food as you can carry," Matthias told them, again and again. "Then run as far away from here as you can!"

They were all gone before the first group of people showed up holding the fake Population Police flyers. These people were used to standing in line; they were used to being handed measly portions of grain or small lumps of mealy bread. They couldn't seem to understand, "Take as much as you can." They couldn't seem to understand, "Grab anything! Go!"

With each group that came in, Matthias watched the emotions play over people's faces: first astonishment and disbelief, then craftiness, then unbridled glee. A carnival atmosphere took over the storeroom. Word seemed to spread between the groups that were leaving and the ones arriving; some people in the later groups brought young children, and Matthias overheard parents telling little boys and girls, "This is how grocery stores looked when I was a kid. And we could go there anytime we wanted...."

Matthias was just glad to see the food disappearing from the shelves.

By 6:00 A.M., all the food had vanished from the lower levels. The metal walkways leading to the upper levels got so crowded that people had to reach out from ladders; they had to balance on wobbly rungs while they shoved peaches and apples and potatoes into their pockets. This slowed everyone down, but Matthias didn't think it mat' tered until Mike came and whispered into his ear, "We need to clear this place out in five minutes."

"Why?" Matthias asked.

"News got back to headquarters," Mike said. "The commander's on his way over right now."

"Everybody out!" Matthias shouted.

"The building's going to explode!" Mike hollered behind him.

That got people running. Some jumped off ladders from five rungs up. Some of the Population Police officers who had handed out the flyers were standing around the doors, and they were the first ones out, clutching loaves of bread and cartons of milk.

"Why'd you say that?" Matthias asked Mike as they were carried along in the stampede for the doors.

"Because it's true!" Mike said. "Run! Get as far away from here as you can!"

Mike grabbed Matthias's arm and jerked him along with the crowd, but a man carrying a huge bag of potatoes smashed in between them. Matthias landed on the floor, out of the way of all the feet trampling toward the exits. He blinked up dizzily at the lights; the nearly empty shelves overhead seemed to sway in and out of his line of sight.

The building's going to explode? Is that really true or just another of Mike's lies?
Why
would it explode?

Then Matthias remembered the roomful of I.D.'s. He remembered Project Exchange and Project Authenticity and the fact that the storeroom of food was the only thing that had kept the rebels from trying to destroy the I.D.'s before. But the food was mostly gone now, except for a stray rotten apple or two here and there.

Matthias struggled to his feet. He fought his way back into the crowd, squeezed through a doorway and along the hall. And then suddenly fresh air hit his face and, oddly, there was sunlight.

People were screaming and running and some of them had dropped their food. Matthias grabbed a heap of potatoes and stuffed them in his pocket. He saw Mike standing across the street—the only person just standing, not running. Mike caught Matthias's eye and smiled and nodded, and then Mike turned his head and seemed to be whispering something into his collar. He waved his hand toward Matthias, beckoning him away from the warehouse.

Matthias remembered how the man in the tree back by the cabin had tried to wave him away from danger. Matthias hadn't understood, but the entire world had seemed to explode into gunfire only seconds later. Matthias glanced behind him and saw that the stream of people running out of the warehouse had stopped. Everyone was out now. Everyone was safe. Except—

Matthias remembered the guard. The guard Mike had knocked unconscious and hidden in an alcove.

Matthias turned and darted back into the building. He thought he could hear Mike across the street yelling, "No! Come back!" but he kept going. His footsteps echoed in the now-deserted hallway. He found the guard and grabbed him under the armpits and tugged and tugged. But the guard was much larger and heavier than Matthias, so his progress was slow. Matthias strained harder, his pulse throbbing in his ears as if counting off the seconds he had left.

Matthias reached the doorway to the outdoors, and the sunlight blinded him temporarily. The street seemed to be empty now, except for one car pulled up to the bottom of the stairs and one man stepping out of it.

One man. The commander.

"You?" the commander said, his voice a mix of bafflement and pain.

Matthias shoved the guard's body forward. It rolled down the stairs, gaining momentum until it slammed into the commander, knocking him back against the car. Matthias didn't have time to watch what happened next. He could hear rumblings behind him. He hurdled the railing and dived underneath the car, sliding into position between the two front tires.

And then the warehouse collapsed, raining bricks down everywhere.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“You idiot! Were you trying to get yourself killed?" Mike's voice.

Matthias moaned and opened his eyes. He didn't feel entirely certain that he
hadn't
been killed, until his eyes focused in the dim light. He was encased in blankets but seemed to be lying on the floor in a huge room. The ceiling arced high overhead.

"What—don't you like the fancy hospital I brought you to?" Mike asked. "We're in another warehouse, but don't worry—this one's abandoned and in no danger of falling down." He glanced around a little nervously. 'As far as I know."

Matthias squinted, trying to figure out how he and Mike had gotten to this dark, silent place after all the noise and confusion and people running and screaming and bricks falling....

"You . . . exploded the other warehouse," Matthias mumbled, remembering. "And all the I.D.'s ..."

"Well, imploded, technically," Mike said. "We tried to rig it so the building would fall inward, instead of bursting outward. We were trying to minimize the risk to innocent bystanders. But, yeah, all the I.D.'s were destroyed. The only identity anyone in this country has now is a paper receipt. And
everyone
has that. Legal citizens. Illegal third children. Wanted criminals. It's going to take the Population Police a long time to sort everyone out. If they ever can."

Mike sounded so gleeful that Matthias winced.

"But you wanted the guard to die?" Matthias asked. 'And the commander?"

"Honestly, I forgot about the guard," Mike said, a troubled look in his eye. "But the commander . . . We weren't trying to kill him, but I wouldn't have complained if he'd been standing right in that doorway when the building fell."

Where he probably would have been if I hadn't distracted him, if I hadn't thrown the guard's body at him,
Matthias thought.

"Did ... did they both die?" Matthias asked.

"Don't know," Mike said. "I pulled you out of the rubble and ran. I have some . . . friends who ought to bring me some updates soon."

But Matthias's eyes were closing again. He slid back into a strangely untroubled sleep.
I got away from Population
Police headquarters. We gave the food away. I did my best to save the guard's life. It's time to rest.

Over the next few days, Matthias slid in and out of consciousness. He woke once feeling warm and cozy, and he discovered that Mike had found or built a small stove that radiated heat into their tiny section of the huge warehouse. The next time he woke, Mike spooned hot, cooked potato into his mouth.

"Smart of you to think to pick up some of the food yourself," Mike said as he fed Matthias. "I left with nothing. Didn't want to think about afterward, I guess. Couldn't believe there would be an afterward."

"Nobody caught us," Matthias said. "We're still alive."

"For now," Mike said, glancing nervously over his shoulder, into darkness. "Still haven't heard from my friends."

When Matthias woke again, sunlight was fighting its way through the dirty glass panes overhead, and Mike was missing. Matthias sat up dizzily, straining sore muscles. He hadn't even thought to ask exactly how he'd been injured. Gingerly, he felt his arms and legs. He discovered plenty of bruises, but none of the bones were broken. His chest ached, though, and when he looked, he saw that he had several extra layers of cloth wrapped around his torso.

"Why? Cracked rib?" Matthias wondered aloud.

And then Mike was there, grinning in the sunlight.

"Don't worry—you're healing fast. And guess what? You're a hero now!"

"Huh?" Matthias said.

Mike sat down on a rusted pipe beside Matthias's makeshift bed.

"I finally got to talk to my contact," Mike said. "You won't believe how everything turned out. We're heroes to the Population Police. They're writing commemorative poems about us. There's even talk of erecting a statue!"

"What?"

"I know—it sounds too incredible," Mike said, so exu-berant that he practically bounced in his seat. "But everyone still believes that bogus story I made up about uncovering the plot to blow up the warehouse and not having time to alert headquarters and just doing everything I could to save the food. Nobody quite understands how you ended up helping me, but they don't care about the details since you saved the commander's life."

"I did?" Matthias asked dazedly.

"Yeah, he and the guard both survived."

Mike's tone was grudging, and Matthias felt confused.

7
didn't want anyone to die. But what if the commander's death had meant that a lot of other people got to live?
Matthias won
dered. He didn't know what to think about the
commander, anyway.
How could he have been so nice to me and so cruel in his job?

Mike was still talking.

"At least, you're getting
some
of the credit for saving the commander's life. There are all these wild rumors going around about how people supposedly saw the ghost of Tiddy with you there at the end, when you were getting the guard out—because how else could a little boy like you carry a two-hundred-pound man?"

Matthias gaped at Mike.

"A ghost? That's crazy," he said indignantly. 'Anyhow, I didn't carry the guard—I dragged him."

"I know," Mike agreed. "But those rumors just make us look better."

Matthias frowned.

"Aren't the Population Police mad at us for giving away all that food?"

"Oh, no," Mike said. "They're proud of us for saving it. Because—get this—people brought it back!"

Mike laughed delightedly, and Matthias was sure he'd heard wrong.

"They brought it back? Why?"

"Because that's what it said on the flyers, that they were just supposed to take care of the food temporarily, until the Population Police could eradicate the threat," Mike said. "So people started returning everything to another warehouse the very next day."

Matthias stared at Mike in dismay.

"But... I wanted the people to keep the food. They were starving!"

"Well, that first group you brought in, I bet they ate the food right away," Mike said. "And the Population Police will never be able to track
them
down. So that turned out all right."

"But the other people, the ones who brought the food back—how could they be so stupid? How could they ruin our plan like that?" In his indignation, Matthias forgot his sore muscles and his cracked rib and gestured wildly. His arm swung out and knocked against a pile of junk metal, which toppled to the ground with a horrible racket.