Children of the Uprising (18 page)

Donald was watching when the first of them tried to run out the door. The irony was that it was the fire that gave the sharpshooters the light they needed. Even those that escaped the flames couldn't escape the light. The first one came running out. He stood out, a black shadow against the brightness. He made it three steps before he was gunned down. The bullets came from all over, from at least three different directions. The first one was always that way. Everyone was so eager. A pattern would develop soon, though, with the sharpshooters taking turns so that no one escaped through the gaps. If someone did get through the gaps, that's what the grunts were for. They had guns too. Some carried handguns, some rifles, but their job was to catch the overflow. The second runner came and only two guns went off this time, cutting him down nearly on top of the first.

Donald put his equipment down and scurried back to the highway. While he wasn't planning on doing any shooting, he did want to pick up a rifle so he could be useful if they needed him. Besides, he wondered what type of rewards could be in store for the man who shot the Child. The gunfire continued to echo around him as he scrambled back up the hill. It sounded eerily like a fireworks display, one with all the noise and none of the beauty.

The only thing Addy could think about when she hit the floor, dodging the billowing smoke, was finding Evan. She tried to tell herself that it was all because of the promise she'd made to Christopher. She tried to tell herself that her actions, ignoring the screaming and pandemonium around her to search for Evan, were still being done for the sake of the cause. She knew where Evan's room was and she made her way toward it, hoping that she would find more than a charred body. She was confused when she first heard the gunshots, but she had to crawl past the front door to get to Evan's room. People were already standing inside the door waiting. It quickly became clear to Addy what was going on. They were trying to time their runs out the door so that at least a few of them might escape the gunfire. Addy didn't know the odds of escaping, but she knew that they couldn't be good. She heard another volley of gunfire as she crawled down the hallway. She turned away from the front door and, with each sound of gunfire, knew that another one of her friends was being cut down. She wanted to care about each one of them. She
did
care about each one of them; she just didn't have time to care about them then.

When Addy finally found Evan, he was lying on the floor beneath the smoke, calling out Christopher's name. Of course, nobody answered him because no one was there to answer. Christopher was gone. But only Addy knew that, and now wasn't the time to be telling secrets. Now was the time to run.

The building had three doors. Two faced the highway and one was on the building's southern side. All three of the doors were covered. No one could get out of one of those doors without facing the gunfire of trained professionals. Donald found a spot high on the hill. He took out a pair of binoculars so that he could try to catch glimpses of the faces of the people as they ran out of the building. He checked every face, trying to spot the Child. The sharpshooters were working quickly and efficiently. Every single person that Donald saw run out a door was cut down before escaping the red glow of the building. Donald saw a lot of them, but he didn't see the one that he was looking for. The flames grew higher and soon the whole hillside was glowing orange except for the dark spaces that were filled with shadows. Donald remained diligent even though he didn't really expect to see Christopher. He didn't expect to have to be a hero. He didn't expect that he'd be the first one to spot the new plume of smoke pouring out one of the side windows.

Donald knew enough about fire to know what that meant. He knew that somebody had broken through the window. “The side,” he shouted to the sharpshooters. “Watch the side.” Those who were the closest peppered the wall near the window with gunfire, but their angle was poor and because of that, their accuracy was lacking. Donald began to run so that he could get a clear view of the window. One of the grunts followed him but was slow. The plans they had didn't show any windows on that side of the building, but there was a window and somebody had broken through it and Donald was the first one to spot them.

They threw something out of the window first. It was darker on this side of the building so Donald couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it looked like a small piece of furniture. The falling piece of furniture was met with another rip of gunfire, but the sharpshooters still didn't have the angle necessary to connect with their target. Donald lifted the binoculars in time to see a person with shoulder-length, unnaturally red hair jump out the window. A second later, another person jumped out. Donald got a good look at this one's face. It was a boy. It wasn't the Child, but it was a boy of about the same age. The two jumpers hit the ground. The first one pulled the second one to his feet and they stood up and ran.

Donald moved his binoculars back to the one with the red hair. Maybe if he could get a good look at the redhead's face, he could rule out the idea that the red hair was part of a disguise. Then, knowing that neither of the runners was the Child, Donald wouldn't have to chase them. He couldn't rule anything out, though. He never got a good enough look at the redhead's face to be certain that it wasn't Christopher in disguise. So Donald ran too, chasing after Addy and Evan.

Evan and Addy ran up the hill toward the highway, veering away from their attackers. Addy chose the direction. She knew that they would have been sitting ducks if they had run the other way. They would have been right in the snipers' sights, glowing beneath the light from the fire. Since they were going this way, the men with the guns would have to turn away from the burning building to see them. She tried to ignore the periodic snare drum of the gunfire. She only concentrated on running. None of the snipers shot at them, but they weren't in the clear yet. Addy spotted two men who had broken off from the rest—two men chasing them. One was far in front of the other. They both wore LAPD SWAT uniforms and the one in the front was quickly gaining on them.

Donald ran. He ran as fast as he could. He was gaining on them. He looked back to see that the grunt who had been following him was falling farther and farther behind. Donald could hardly blame him. The odds were that all the glory was back at the fire, not chasing these two kids into the night. But the possibility was still there. Donald knew that the possibility was there.

Donald looked up. He was close now. He might have been able to stop and aim his rifle, but he wasn't a trained sharpshooter. If he tried it and missed, they'd escape for sure. Besides, he hadn't come all this way to shoot a couple of random kids. He wanted to be sure first. So he kept running up the hill. The one with the dark hair was running in front. The redhead, the one that Donald really wanted, was trailing behind him. Donald knew that he had to reach them before they got to the top of the hill because once they crested the hill, they'd be able to disappear. Donald drew some air into his lungs, preparing to shout out, ordering them to stop. He didn't know if it would work. He didn't know if the sound of his voice would scare them enough to make them hesitate or if it would make them run faster. Whatever the consequences, Donald was prepared to try. Before he could, it happened. The redhead tripped on a dead root and fell to the ground right in front of him. That gave him the boost that he needed. He found it in himself to speed up and cleared the distance between him and the redhead in seconds.

When Donald neared his target, he lifted his rifle and aimed it at the red hair. He had no desire to play the action hero. He had no witty remarks planned. He wasn't about to trade safety for glory. Still, he had convinced himself that he was chasing the Child. He had become certain that beneath that red wig, he would see the face of the boy in the pictures. Donald didn't care what Christopher saw before he pulled the trigger. He didn't care about making an impression. He only wanted to confirm that this was the Child. He wanted to be sure that he should be proud of what he was doing before he pulled the trigger. Donald took one more step toward the fallen rebel, who had managed to get to one knee and was almost ready to stand.
Look at me,
Donald thought to himself, staring only at the red hair. Then, suddenly, Donald's gun was gone. His hands were empty. He looked up. The dark-haired boy had come back. He had pulled the gun out of Donald's hands and was now standing in front of him. A flickering hell of shadows danced across the boy's face, reflecting the giant fire that was burning higher and higher behind Donald. Donald got two swings in, first with his right hand and then with his left. The boy wasted no energy stepping out the way of each swing. Donald's hand barely missed the boy, never coming close to doing any damage. Then Donald was on the ground, as if pulled there. Then he felt pain. Then he saw darkness. Then nothing.

Addy didn't give Evan a moment to think about what he'd done. She didn't give him a moment to think about anything. Instead, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him. She pulled him away from the body of the policeman he had killed. She pulled him away from the fire. She pulled him away from the screaming and the gunshots. All the while, Evan thought about nothing and let himself be pulled wherever Addy was taking him.

Christopher thought that Brian was taking him back to the compound in Florida. They'd been driving for a long time. Christopher began to feel like that was all his life had become. A series of long drives interspersed with moments of intense violence. Brian wasn't taking Christopher to the compound in Florida, though. Reggie had left the compound as soon as he got word that Christopher was coming to meet him.

“Where are we?” Christopher asked Brian as they sped across a long, straight road cutting through an endless sea of pine trees.

“New Jersey,” Brian answered. Christopher knew that he hadn't been paying attention to where they were going, but he hadn't realized how far off course they'd veered from the destination in his head. He'd been distracted by thoughts about Addy and Evan. Even though he tried not to be, he'd been distracted by thoughts about how long it had been since he'd spoken to his parents. Then, even when he was able to stop thinking, images of the dead kept flashing through his head—the men who had come for him in the woods in Maine, Max and the others in Canada, the man he shot outside of Death Valley, the man Addy shot after he realized who Christopher was.

“This is New Jersey?” Christopher asked, staring out the window at the endless rows of trees. He felt like he should be surprised, but it was getting more and more difficult to surprise him.

“Yeah.”

“It looks like Maine,” Christopher said.

“Do you want to know where I'm taking you?” Brian asked.

The trees whizzed by them. “I think I know where we're going,” Christopher said. Reggie was bringing him back to the place on the Jersey Shore where his father used to come when he was Christopher's age. “Isn't this dangerous? Won't they be looking for me here?”

“Everywhere is dangerous. Reggie had some business he needed to take care of nearby. We think you're as safe here as anywhere.”

“That's not the most enthusiastic endorsement I've ever heard.”

“Trust us, Christopher. We have no interest in making any more martyrs.”

“I guess that's good. At least we've all got something in common.” Christopher tried to laugh. “Did you leave the War because of what they did to my father?”

Brian didn't take his eyes off the road. “No. I left the War because I was pretty sure they were going to kill me.”

“Why were they going to kill you?”

“They thought I was a spy.”

“Were you?”

“No. I wasn't perfect, but I wasn't a spy. They've only got themselves to blame for turning me into what I am now.”

“But you tried to help my father when he was on the run?”

Brian glanced quickly at Christopher and then returned his attention to the road. “Like I said, I wasn't perfect, but trying to help a friend isn't the same thing as being a spy.”

“I might not even be here if it wasn't for you.” Christopher said the words as much to himself as to Brian. “If they'd gotten to my father earlier, my mother never would have learned what she needed to get me back. My father would have died a loser instead of a hero. And I would be just one more kid in the War who didn't know any better than believing that he was good and the people he was fighting were evil. If it wasn't for you, nobody would care who I was.”

“Would you like that better?” Brian asked Christopher

Christopher didn't know what he was supposed to say. He wondered if the question was some sort of test. “We almost there?” he asked instead of answering.

“About another hour and a half,” Brian told him.

Christopher watched the trees buzz by, barely able to pick one out from the rest. “And Reggie will be waiting for us when we get there?”

“Yeah,” Brian confirmed.

Reggie hung up
the phone and stared out the window at the boats floating in the harbor. The wind was blowing across the harbor, causing the boats to rock back and forth as they bounced on the waves. This place had history. Reggie had been assured that meeting Christopher on this island would be safe. If he couldn't trust the people who gave him those assurances, then he and Christopher weren't going to make it very far anyway. It was a risk, but Reggie thought the history was important. He wanted Christopher to feel connected. Christopher's father used to come here with his friends, both the one that killed him and the one that died trying to find Christopher. This little island was the place where Christopher's father got it in his head that loyalty to the people who cared about him was more important than fealty to the rules. This little island was the place where Michael brought Christopher's mother and where Christopher's mother figured out what she needed to do if she was going to find Christopher and save him. Now this tiny island was the place where Reggie planned to enlist Christopher in a crazy scheme that would drag the two of them around the world, clinging to the hope that Christopher could do one thing that no one else could do.

It was beginning to get dark outside, but Reggie didn't bother turning on the lights. He took pleasure in the coming darkness. He found it soothing. He picked up the phone again and dialed. The crazy plan that they'd hatched wasn't Reggie's plan, not in the beginning anyway. He guessed it was his now. He owned it now, having purchased it with hundreds of phone calls and thousands of promises. He had to own it—completely, totally—if he was going to sell it to others. Reggie supposed that was how it always worked. He supposed that nobody ever did anything this big by themselves. Everybody was a cog in a machine, but if you pull out any one of the cogs the whole machine is not going to work anymore. After three rings, somebody answered the phone at the other end of the line. Reggie recognized the woman's voice.

“He's on his way,” Reggie told the woman. “How is the schedule coming, Annie?”

“As well as can be expected,” Annie replied. “Are you sure that you guys are going to be ready to leave tomorrow?”

“We better be,” Reggie answered. “After all this, I don't see how any good is going to come from waiting any longer.”
Not here anyway,
Reggie thought as he watched an old fishing boat pull into the harbor, barely beating nightfall. “Where are we going first?”

“Singapore,” Annie said. “Only I don't know where you're going from there. They wouldn't tell me. They only told me that someone would be meeting you at the airport.”

“That's it? I suppose they expect us to trust the first guy who comes to pick us up?” Reggie had them walking a tightrope over a sea full of sharks. Sometimes Reggie doubted his ability to manage it all.

“I'm still working on getting more details,” Annie said apologetically.

“And our papers? How are we going to get our papers?”

“I'm working on that too. We're going to be sending a car to pick you guys up tomorrow. The driver should have your papers. If he doesn't, then they'll be at the airport.”

“I feel like I could be walking the kid into a giant mess here, Annie.”

“Just try to concentrate on Singapore. That's all we can do for now.” Annie sounded as tired as Reggie felt. They'd already been working hard on the plan and it hadn't even started yet.

“You hear any more news about California?” Reggie asked. It was the last question Reggie'd been asking everybody ever since he heard the news. He knew that Christopher was still in the dark. Brian had made sure that Christopher didn't get any news about the raid and its casualties. He kept the car radio off and watched whenever Christopher checked his phone. Reggie wasn't going to tell Christopher anything either, not unless he was forced to. Reggie knew that he was going to have to get Christopher to abandon his phone. Nothing good would come of Christopher being connected to the world.

“Nothing new,” Annie said. “It's hard to tell the difference between facts, rumors, and lies.”

“It always is.” Reggie had seen Evan's picture on the news like everybody else, but none of them really knew who Evan was or how important he was to Christopher. Reggie was just happy that someone survived the raid. He believed deep down that if anyone had survived the raid, Addy might have survived it too. Reggie had already lost Max. He had to believe that Addy was still alive. He was so tired of all of it.
One last hurrah,
he thought to himself. It wasn't only that he was tired, though. Reggie had given Addy a job. He didn't want to think that he gave such an important job to a ghost. If he was going to break a promise to the woman who had saved his life, the least he could do was tell her about his broken promise. Reggie tried to think about whether he had any more questions for Annie. “Thanks, Annie,” Reggie said when he couldn't think of any. “Be careful out there.”

“You too, Reggie. I'll e-mail you when I have more details.”

Annie hung up and Reggie sat there, alone again, still staring out the window. He barely moved. He'd been sitting at the desk for almost three hours without getting up. He wondered who else he could call that might know something about California, but he worried about spreading himself too thin. Besides, he couldn't think of anybody who was more plugged in than Annie. Reggie had to make one more phone call before Christopher arrived. After that he could rest. He picked up the phone and dialed George's number.

George answered on the second ring. “George, it's Reggie. How are things?”

“Quiet,” George answered. Reggie listened to see if he could hear the noises of the compound behind George, but it really was quiet. “What's going on?”

“Christopher's on his way,” Reggie said.

“That's great,” George said. “That's what we all were hoping for.” Even though the words were true, they couldn't hide the fear in George's voice. George knew what the words meant.

“There's a letter in the top drawer of my desk,” Reggie said. “When you find Addy, give it to her.”

“And what if we don't find her?” George asked because he felt like he had to.

“It's only for Addy,” Reggie said and let that subject die. A moment of silence passed, each of them waiting for the other to speak. “Are you guys ready?” Reggie finally asked when he was sure that George wasn't going to say anything.

“Are you sure you want us to do this?”

“Burn it down,” Reggie ordered him. George knew the plan. Reggie knew that George still needed to hear the words. All of them knew that Reggie wanted the compound razed so they wouldn't have to worry about leaving behind clues about where they had hidden any of the hundreds of people that they had helped escape from the War. That wasn't the whole story, though. Reggie also wanted the compound razed because he didn't want to battle the temptation to go back. If Christopher was going to come to him, Reggie needed to be willing to go all in. He had to believe in the plan completely or it would be doomed to failure.

“You're sure?” George asked again.

Reggie understood George's hesitation. Once they burned the compound down, none of them would have anywhere else to go. That was part of the plan too. Nobody was allowed to be comfortable. Rebellion wasn't comfortable. “Can you handle this, George, or do I need to talk to Sam?”

“I can handle it,” George told him.

“Good luck, George,” Reggie said to his old friend and colleague. “I hope to see you when I get back.” Reggie didn't wait for George to respond. He didn't want to hear George wish him luck too. Reggie had too many balls in the air for luck to do any good. Either he would figure out how to catch them all or they'd scatter to the ground. After hanging up the phone, Reggie finally stood up from the desk. He stretched the muscles in his shoulders and walked to the window. There, Reggie watched the darkening sky and waited for the sound of Brian's car.