They cuffed us, then threw us in the back of a truck. Will tried to protest, but one of the men raised a revolver and silenced him. We headed north.
Through the slats in the side of the truck, I could see orange and violet bands of light as the sun crossed the afternoon sky. The truck banged roughly along the road, and the bands kept shifting and blinding me. I nudged Will, but he ignored me. He had been silent since the pirates forced us into the truck, and my efforts to get him to talk failed. He had a bruise on one arm where a pirate had grabbed him roughly, and every now and then, his hand went to the bruise, stroking it like a painful memory.
Two men sat with us, their guns held tightly across their laps as if they thought one of us might make a run for it. But even if there were somewhere to run, leaping from the back of a speeding truck wasn’t the first thing on my mind. The guns were big, the men were even bigger, and the helicopter was still overhead. I could tell Will was thinking about running. I wanted to tell him we were approaching the northern boundary and the Republic of Minnesota.
Minnesota had once been loosely bound to the lower republics, but it declared its secession after the Great Panic, and the army made no effort to stop it. Since then, it sold water to the other republics, but it stuck by its declaration and even sent troops to the border to prevent immigrants without proper documentation from sneaking through.
I knew we were getting close because the truck slowed and the road got rougher. From the angle of the sun, I knew the direction we were going and how long we had been driving. It all added up to a border crossing into the powerful republic. There was no way a convoy of pirates could get across the border, however, and I wondered what the men had planned. Will sensed it too because after hours of silence, he sat up straight and cocked his head as if he were listening intently.
“Minnesota,” I whispered to him.
He nodded and turned to the pirates, speaking for the first time. “You’ll never get across.”
The pirates seemed surprised to discover a real live boy in the back of the truck with them. One of them asked Will to repeat what he had said.
“They’ll stop you at the border. You don’t have papers.”
“Don’t you worry about the border,” said the pirate. “We’ll get through just fine.”
“I don’t see how.”
“It’s not for you to be worrying.”
“If they shoot us all, I’ll be worried.”
I couldn’t believe Will was talking this way to a pirate. The pirate couldn’t either. “For a boy who’s a prisoner of pirates,” he said, “you’re pretty cheeky.”
Will shrugged. “I’m just saying if we all get killed, what good is kidnapping us?”
“If we’re all killed, what good is worrying about it?” The pirate snickered and slapped his companion on the back, and Will was quiet for a while.
The truck continued to slow, and the men grew more alert. I couldn’t hear the helicopter anymore, and I guessed it had flown away so as not to get close to the border and risk being shot down. I didn’t think Minnesota had an air force, but it definitely had air defenses, and it wouldn’t let an unknown copter cross its skies. I heard the radio crackle in the front seat and some voices blurt forth in a different language. The driver responded, and there was some more crackling. The truck bumped loudly over a couple of barriers, and each time, we landed hard on our rumps. Finally it slowed and then came to a complete stop. All was silent.
The radio burst forth again in that strange language. The driver answered, and another voice joined in as well. Then more silence.
I strained to hear something, and I could just make out boots crunching against gravel outside. I pressed my face to the truck’s side, and I could hear the engine ticking as it cooled. More boots crunched, and a new voice called out. There was some muffled talking, and some more boots joined in. Then a hand grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me away from the side.
“What’s so interesting?” asked the pirate who had spoken to Will. He was large, bearded, and bald, and his arms were covered with tattoos.
I shrugged. My ears burned.
“You’re wasting your time snooping,” said the pirate.
“You’re going to buy your way across.” The idea came to me in a flash.
“You’re a smart missy.”
How else did pirates move about so freely? They couldn’t fight their way across, because they were outnumbered. Plus all those boots outside meant people talking about something important: money, water, or both.
“But how do you know they won’t shoot you once you’re across?” I asked. “No, that would be stupid,” I said, answering my own question.
The pirate nodded. “We wash their hands, and they wash ours.”
“Is it illegal to steal water if they don’t arrest you?” I asked.