Children of the Uprising (10 page)

“Should we turn off the lights so that no one knows we're here?” Addy asked Max. They should have been completely off the radar by now. They hadn't stayed with anyone since Addy dyed her hair and Max shaved his head. That was five days ago. They'd kept moving since then, though not in a straight line. They spent three of the five nights in roadside motels. The other two they slept in the woods near their car. This was supposed to be the last of their one-night stays. They were supposed to get on a flight the next day. All three of them were supposed to board a flight that would take them halfway around the world to Sydney, Australia. None of them knew what would happen after that. Christopher was anxious. He'd never been on a plane before. Addy seemed anxious too, but for different reasons. She didn't seem eager to leave.

“The lights are fine,” Max said to Addy. He was growing impatient with her. “You know that you don't have to come with us, Addy. You've done your part. You can go back to Reggie.”

“Do you really think that's what I want, Max? Do you really think I could go back to that after all this?” Addy glanced quickly at Christopher. Christopher still hadn't gotten used to the way Addy looked with her dyed hair. He felt his skin tingle whenever their eyes caught each other. They looked at each other with a need bordering on hunger, though Christopher wasn't sure if they needed the same thing.

They were in a cabin in the mountains, only a couple of hours outside of Vancouver. Their flight left at one in the afternoon the next day. They were planning to head for the airport at around eight the next morning to make sure they didn't run into any problems catching their flight.

“If you don't want to go back to Reggie, then why are you acting so weird about coming with us?” Max asked Addy. Christopher didn't say anything. His role in the conversation was as an observer only. He knew he had no real role in it.

“I'm not acting weird,” Addy answered, and all three of them knew that she was lying. Then she walked away from them, into another room. Christopher watched her as she went, wishing that he could understand her. His eyes trailed down her back, starting at her red hair and slowly making their way down to the soles of her bare feet. Addy never wore socks around Max because she knew he had a thing for them.

Max and Christopher were left alone in the main room. They were sitting in chairs, across from each other. They had a fire going in the wood-burning stove, which made the whole cabin smell like pine and made it feel almost cozy. Christopher was surprised at how well he and Max got along after all this time. Before Max, Christopher had been able to maintain only one friendship, with Evan. Christopher attributed his friendship with Max more to Max's patience than to anything he brought to the table.

“So what's the deal with you and socks?” Christopher asked Max.

Max laughed. “There's nothing sexier than a hot woman in socks.” He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the wooden coffee table between them. “And not stockings either. Real socks, wool or cotton, and the longer the better. I mean, I'll take those cute little ankle socks, the ones that they fold down at the top with the frill, but really, the longer the better.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Hell if I know. And don't you go digging around in my head to try to figure it out. If I ever find out that it's because my mom used to wear long socks when she nursed me or some fucked-up shit like that, it'll ruin the whole thing for me. This is not a joy that I want to give up.” He paused. “I've got too few joys already.”

“I won't go digging around in anything,” Christopher promised.

Max looked at him with a crooked grin. “You a virgin?” he asked. Max rarely asked Christopher personal questions, and Christopher appreciated that—but here we were anyway. Besides, Christopher had started it.

“No,” Christopher answered. He thought back to the two times he'd had sex, with different girls, neither girl even hinting that there was any chance for a repeat performance. The first time, he and Evan were hanging out with two girls at Evan's house while Evan's parents were away. Evan took one of the girls into his bedroom, leaving Christopher and the other girl alone in the living room. Everything that happened was stilted and awkward and Christopher was pretty sure it happened only because the girl couldn't stand the silence. The second time was with a girl whose only motivation was clearly to rebel by sleeping with the weird kid at school. Christopher was pretty sure she regretted it as soon as it was over. Christopher had been nice to both girls. At least, he thought he'd been nice.

“That's good,” Max said. His voice carried more relief than joy. He took his feet off the coffee table and leaned toward Christopher. He started talking more quietly, to make sure that Addy didn't hear him. “I was with this girl once. She knew about my thing for socks. So she bought these rainbow-striped cotton socks that went all the way up to the top of her thighs. Holy shit.” Max pronounced the word
holy
as if it were two separate words. He told the whole story with pure joy, like his telling it was a gift for Christopher. “I didn't let her take those socks off the whole fucking time. She took everything else off but those socks. I was so into it, and she really ate it up. She was laughing and giggling the whole time, but she loved it.”

Max's story
was
a gift. It made Christopher happy.

That was when everything came crashing down. The door to Addy's room flew open. It swung open so hard that it banged against the wall next to it. Addy stood there, her face flushed. For a second Christopher wondered if she had heard Max's story and was somehow offended by it, but he knew how ridiculous that thought was. Something else was going on. “There are people outside,” Addy said, her chest heaving. “I saw them. They're heading this way.”

Max was on his feet instantly. “How many of them are there?”

“I couldn't tell,” Addy answered. “At least five flashlights, but who knows how many people.”

Christopher followed Max's lead and jumped to his feet. He'd been comfortable fighting the men in the woods back in Maine, but since then he'd been pulled so far out of his element that he felt lost. Besides, some of the words that Max had said to him the first time they'd met kept running through his head.
Don't be a fool and think that they will underestimate you again. Ever.

“What should we do?” Addy asked Max. Max was the elder, the natural leader, and Addy was scared—though not half as scared as Christopher.

“Is there any reason why a group of people might be coming up here at this time of night?” Max asked.

“Besides to come after us? No,” Addy answered. “And they must have seen the light and the smoke from the stove by now.”

“Then the woods,” Max said. “We'll take to the woods.” Christopher and Addy shot each other a quick glance. Christopher had used the woods for shelter once before, but he didn't know these woods. “Now,” Max added for emphasis. It worked. They moved.

Addy was right. They were coming. Christopher and Addy could see the light from their flashlights bouncing off the leaves on the trees around them. They came swiftly but silently. Christopher and Addy, believing they hadn't been spotted yet, darted off, searching for shelter in the darkness. Addy hadn't even taken the time to put her shoes on. It wasn't until they were a few hundred yards from the house that they realized Max wasn't with them.

While Addy and Christopher ran out of the cabin, Max went back into his room for his gun, the gun that he had promised himself years ago he would never use again. Once he found it, he stopped and listened. He knew he didn't have a lot of time. He'd known that even before he ran back for the gun. Now he could hear them. They were quiet but not silent. Max could hear the sounds of snapping twigs and rustling leaves as their pursuers marched closer to the cabin. The front door was no longer an option. Max ran to the window of the bedroom. The window faced the mountain. The pursuers were coming from the opposite direction. Max pulled on the window's lock. The rust on the old metal lock kept it from budging. Max thought about breaking the glass but couldn't risk the noise. The sounds of their footsteps were getting closer. There were no other sounds. The pursuers didn't say a word to each other. They simply moved as a group through the darkness. Max gave the lock another strong yank. The rusty metal dug into his skin and it tore open, leaving blood on the lock, but the lock moved. Max pulled again and the lock came free. He could hear sounds not far from the cabin's front door. He knew that they would likely surround the house before coming inside. He only had a minute. He pushed the window open. The window wasn't big and it was a good six feet from the ground. Still, Max jammed his body through the tiny space and fell. He didn't care about the pain of landing. He only cared about the noise. He hit the ground hard, rolled forward, and came up aiming his gun at nothing. Then he heard footsteps coming toward him from around the corner of the cabin. He saw a beam of light from a flashlight flare against the side of the cabin. Then he stood up and ran.

Christopher and Addy didn't stop running until they heard the shouting. The shouting was coming from back at the cabin. They turned. The cabin was now no more than a flickering of color between the forest's trees. They had been running away from the cabin, higher up the mountain, toward the rocky crags. Then they heard the shout. “Got one!”

“Is it him?” a second man shouted.

“No! It's the man!” the first man yelled back.

“Bring him back here. He'll know something!”

Addy and Christopher stopped running and the shouting stopped too. The forest went silent. They were too far away from the cabin to hear the footsteps. They were too far away to hear the men enter the cabin. “Where's Max?” Addy said in a panic when they heard the shouts. Christopher looked around them. It was dark, but not so dark that they would have missed Max if he had been with them. “Do you think they caught him?” Addy asked Christopher.

“I don't know,” Christopher replied, feeling like he could drown in the ocean of what he didn't know.

“I'm going back for him,” Addy said, without any hesitation in her voice.

Christopher wanted to tell her how insane that was. They were outnumbered. They had no weapons. Hell, Addy didn't even have shoes. Instead, the words “I'll go with you” slipped out of his mouth.

“No,” Addy ordered Christopher. “This was all to keep you safe. Don't fuck that up for us. Keep running. I'll catch up.”

Christopher gave Addy a look, a pleading, desperate look. “Don't worry,” she said. “I have no plans to die today.”

Christopher nodded this time. No matter what else happened, he didn't plan on dying either. Then Addy turned and ran back toward the cabin. She virtually flew over the ground, her bare feet making no more noise than a gust of wind. Christopher watched her disappear around the trees and then he turned and plodded farther up the mountain, in the other direction.

Addy rushed back toward the cabin, dodging trees in the darkness. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. She felt helpless. There was nothing in the world that Addy hated more than feeling helpless.

Christopher turned again when he heard the faint and unnatural whistling sound. He'd managed to scramble up the face of a giant boulder. He decided, since he had no real idea where he should go, that he would keep going up until he no longer had any more up to go. Then he would go down. But the strange whistling sound made him stop. Christopher turned in time to see a flash of light. The flash made him flinch backward. It was only that flash of light, the moonlight catching metal in midair and the flinch it elicited from Christopher, that kept the arrow from piercing Christopher's chest. Instead, it clanked against the rock next to him. Sparks flew into the air as the metal tip of the arrow collided with the rock.

Christopher looked down the mountain. He could see three people below him, all dressed in black. All three were carrying bows and arrows. It was surreal. From where he stood, Christopher could see that it was two men and one woman. Their black clothes seemed to be some sort of uniform. Christopher stood for a moment, frozen by the utter madness of it all. Then the woman pulled out an arrow and strung it in her bow with lightning speed. She pulled back and the bow bent like a striking snake. Christopher moved again. Up. The woman's arrow whistled by his feet. He crested another rock and ran.

He heard them this time—not only the sound of their arrows whistling through the night air but their feet too, stamping along the forest floor. He heard the ground crunch with each of their steps. He couldn't look back. They were keeping pace with him, if not gaining ground. An arrow whizzed by his ear and stuck in a tree two feet in front of him. A second later he was past the wounded tree and still running, moving from side to side to become a harder target. White cliffs shined in the bright moonlight to his left. Perhaps he could find a crag to hide in. He turned left without slowing down.

They split up after Christopher disappeared on them. They tried to make sure they had every escape route covered. They knew they couldn't go back unless they finished the job. They didn't need the other two. The Child was their only target, and he had disappeared somewhere on the cliffs. Sonny ran ahead, around the cliffs and to the other side, trying to cut off any escape in that direction. Jesse stayed behind so she could ambush the Child if he backtracked. That left Arnold to venture onto the cliffs to try to flush him out.

It was much lighter on the cliffs. Without the trees, the moon shone down and reflected off the sheer rock, giving the impression of permanent dusk. The cliffs were steep. Dirt paths twisted along cracks in the cliffs. Arnold could walk along them, stepping carefully with one foot in front of the other, like walking on a balance beam. The paths were thin enough that he had to reach out and run one hand along the rock so he could grab it to keep his balance when he started to slip. This made his bow useless, maybe worse than useless because of its weight. He was walking along a sheer cliff, virtually defenseless.