Bombs. He wanted to plant bombs, simple ones, ones that had the capacity to maim anyone within fifty feet of their explosions. They would kill anyone closer. He’d been building them for a few months. “That’s when Sailor and Dave were brought into the plan,” he said. “They have experience with explosives from their Group training, and I guess Dave was somewhat of a pyro at Plank, worse than I was. And I knew they’d follow me. They still believe in what’s right.”
Getting the stuff into Pines would be risky, Micah admitted. “But Toni’s not fucking around. She wouldn’t do anything stupid to get us caught. And there’s a guy with her now. I corresponded with him back when we were students at Plank, actually. Toni said he could get us in places.” It took a moment for Cal to understand that the “us” meant the bombs, and Micah meant to plant them. “Not only at company headquarters,” Micah said, “and the head citizen office, that kind of thing. But also less-rarefied locations. There’s a market about a mile from the checkpoint we use.” Micah shook his head. “They hardly eat real food there, did you know? It’s mostly weird energy bars, supplements, powdery drinks. It’s why our lettuce is so beloved there.” He smiled. “At their markets, they’ve got this spot, where people pick up their carts. It’d be perfect.”
Cal didn’t answer. What Micah was saying scared him, but it also sounded silly, a boy’s plan, straight out of a comic book. And yet, boys were capable of terrible things.
It would take a long time, Micah continued, to get the plan in place. And once the bombs were built and delivered to Pines, they could not be set off immediately, either. Being careful was a kind of grace, he said. “We need to hurt them, shake them up.”
“You want them to feel unsafe?” Cal asked.
“Not just feel it—be it.”
“Micah. Listen to yourself. If Pines is rendered unsafe, wouldn’t that kill your trade agreements? Won’t they get more paranoid and further secure their borders?”
“We’re counting on that,” he said. “That’s when those of us inside will act.”
“It sounds like Toni will have already played her role.”
Micah shook his head. “You know there’s a whole underclass at Pines? Not just Pines, but most Communities. Someone has to scrape gum off the park benches, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be some executive’s son. Most workers have been raised within the Community, bred to do service at a place called C.A.P., Center at Pines. The kids who grow up there are called Hats, sometimes Hatters. The Communities think it’s safer than letting in temporary laborers from the outside who might bring in disease and troubles of their own. The Hatters live okay, but they don’t have rights, not really. They’re safe as long as they shut their mouths and do their work.”
“Sounds like a coup waiting to happen.”
“Maybe, but you wouldn’t believe how happy most of the Hatters are. They might sort through garbage for a living, but they’re eating regularly, they’ve got access to health care, and they’re given a small apartment with electricity and running water. It’s more than you can say for life here.” He smiled. “But not everyone there will remain content.”
“Are you talking about the kids you gave up? You sent them to Pines to be part of an uprising?”
Micah held up his hand, as if Cal weren’t listening, or not properly. “One of the kids, Randy, will be sixteen this year. He’s bright, and strong.”
“What’s he going to do for you?”
“For now, he’s just listening to conversations, gathering information. He’s training as a security guard, so he has access. He reminds me of August in some ways. I think he can lead his peers.”
“This is a long game, then, I take it.”
“Toni keeps reminding me to be patient. If we do it right, Pines will fall apart: bombings, civil unrest, the whole nine yards. And once there’s utter chaos behind its walls, Pines will be more vulnerable to attacks from the outside. That’s a bonus. The Pirates will have a ball terrorizing those borders again.”
“I thought you got rid of the Pirates.”
“I told you,” Micah said, “nothing is permanent. Once the bombings happen and the Pirate threat returns, those rich bastards will really be in trouble.” He smiled. “It’ll be just like any old American city.”
“But if that happens,” Cal said, “everything around here will fall apart, too. You need Pines, Micah.”
“Not forever, I don’t,” he said. “You think I want to stay on the Land until I die? We do this, and the Group realizes I won’t be put out to pasture.”
“I thought you were in charge.”
He nearly snarled. “I was inside the inner circle—or I thought I was. When the suicide-bombing plan was devised, I saw it as an important step in the Group’s mission to change the status quo.”
“And because you wanted to be deified.”
He raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. “I wanted to inspire our members and make people afraid of what we could do. And I wanted to be independent, see what needed to be done outside of the Group’s reach.”
“But the other leaders wanted you out,” Cal said.