He was right again. I found one sewn into the waistband of the jeans, one in the hem of the hoodie, and even one glued inside the belt buckle—four trackers for one girl, plus one that had been sewn into the lining of the backpack itself.
Liam finished replacing the tire with the spare faster than I thought possible. Zu helped him place the nuts back in their sockets and slowly crank the car back down. When he handed the tools to her, she knew exactly where to put them in the trunk.
“Here,” he said, holding his hand out to me. “I’ll take care of them.” My hands trembled as I handed the trackers to him. He threw them on the ground, and crushed them beneath the heel of his shoe.
“I don’t understand.…” I began. But I did, in a way. They wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble breaking me out if they hadn’t had a method of keeping tabs on me if I got recaptured or separated from them.
Liam’s hand came out toward me, and the sheer panic at the thought of his touch had me jumping back, trying to put as much air between us as I could. It still wasn’t far enough; his hand dropped between us, but I felt the warmth of his upturned palm brush my shoulder as if it had actually rested there. My arms came up and crossed over my chest, and some mangled mess of anxiety and guilt rose up from deep in my guts. I tried to focus on the Psi identification numbers on the top of my shoes to keep from jumping away again.
You are acting like a nervy five-year-old, I told myself. Stop it. He’s just another kid.
“They tell you a lot of lies in the Children’s League, the biggest being that you’re free,” he said. “They talk about love and respect and family, but I don’t know any family that puts a tracking device on someone and then sends them out to be shot up and blown away.”
“But we didn’t have to kill them,” I said. My fingers tightened around the backpack straps. “There was another kid inside. Martin. He didn’t…he didn’t deserve to…”
“You mean—” Liam wiped the grease and dirt from his hands off on the front of his jeans. “The kind of—” He made a vague motion with his hands, which I think was supposed to indicate Martin’s plump stature. “That guy?”
I nodded.
“The tree didn’t actually hit them,” Liam said, leaning against the minivan’s sliding door. “They might still be alive.”
Liam guided me back toward the passenger seat and whistled to get Chubs’s attention. Somewhere behind me, I heard Zu climb back into Black Betty.
“Look,” he continued, “they all wear the trackers. I’m sure another League agent will be along in a little while to help them. You can go back if you want, or we can take you to the bus station like I said we would.”
My hands were still by my side, my face as blank as a clear sky, but I wasn’t fooling him. He tuned in to my guilt like I had been wearing it plain as day on my face. “It doesn’t make you a bad person, you know—to want to live your own life.”
I looked back and forth between the road and his face, more confused now than ever. It didn’t make sense for him to want to help me, not when he already had two other people counting on him. That he wanted to protect.
Liam opened the back door for me, tilting his head toward the empty seat inside. But before I could even consider the cost of staying with them, if just for a short while, Chubs’s arm shot out and he ripped the sliding door shut in front of my face.
“Chubs—” Liam warned.
“Why,” Chubs began, “were you with the Children’s League?”
“Hey now,” Liam said. “This is a don’t-ask-don’t-tell operation. Green, you—”
“No,” Chubs said, “you decided that. You and Suzume. If we’re going to be stuck with her, I want to know who this person is and why we got chased down by gun-toting lunatics trying to get her back.”
Liam lifted his hands in surrender.
“I…” What could I tell them that wouldn’t sound like a complete and total lie? My head felt light; I was almost too exhausted to think. “I was…”
Zu gave me a nod of encouragement, her eyes bright.
“I was a runner in the Control Tower,” I blurted. “I saw the access codes to the computer servers the League wants access to. I have a photographic memory, and I’m good with numbers and codes.”
That was probably overkill, but apparently I had sold it.
“What about your friend? What’s his deal?”
The longer they stared at me, the harder it became to not fidget. Get a grip, Ruby.
“You mean Martin?” I said, my voice sounding high to my own ears. “Yesterday was the first time I had ever seen him. I don’t know what his story was. I didn’t ask.”
I wished I didn’t know what Martin’s story was.
Chubs slapped the side of the minivan. “Don’t tell me you believe that, Lee. We knew everyone by the time we broke out.”
Broke out. They actually escaped? Shock left me speechless for several moments until I asked, finally, “Really? All three thousand of them?”
The boys took a step back at the same time.
“You had three thousand kids at your camp?” Liam asked.
“Why?” I looked between them, unnerved. “How many were in your camp?
“Three hundred at most,” Liam said. “Are you sure? Three thousand?”
“Well, it’s not like they gave us an official number. There were thirty kids per cabin and about a hundred of those. There used to be more, but they sent the Reds, Oranges, and Yellows away.”
Apparently, I had blown his mind. Liam let out a strangled noise at the back of his throat. “Holy crap,” he finally managed to squeeze out. “What camp was it?”
“It’s none of your business,” I said. “I’m not asking you where you were.”
“We were in Caledonia, Ohio,” Chubs said, ignoring a sharp look from Liam. “They stuck us in an abandoned elementary school. We broke out. Your turn.”
“Why, so you can report me to the nearest PSF station?”
“Yeah, because, clearly, we’d be able to stroll up and lodge a sighting report.”
After a moment, I blew out a harsh breath. “Fine. I was in Thurmond.”
The silence that followed seemed to stretch on longer than the road beneath us.
“Are you serious?” Liam asked, finally. “Crazy Thurmond, with the FrankenKiddies?”
“They’ve stopped testing,” I said, feeling strangely defensive.
“No, I just—I just…” Liam raced through the words. “I thought it was all filled up, you know? That’s why they bused us to Ohio.”
“How old were you when you went into camp?” Chubs’s voice was measured, but I saw his face fall all the same. “You were young, right?”
The answer popped out before I could stop myself. “The day after my tenth birthday.”
Liam blew out a low whistle, and I wondered exactly how much of Thurmond’s reputation had leaked out in the time I had been there. Who were the ones talking about it—the former PSFs assigned there?
And, if people knew, why hadn’t anyone come to help us?
“How long were you guys in Caledonia?”
“Suzume was there for about two years. I was there for a year and a half, and Lee was there for a year or so.”
“That’s…” A small, ugly voice inside my head whispered, That’s it? even as the better part of me knew full well that it didn’t matter if they had been there for one year or one day—a minute in one of those camps was enough to smash you into pieces.
“And you’re what, sixteen? Seventeen?”
“I don’t know,” I said, and the thought nearly knocked me back against the van. I really wasn’t sure—Sam had claimed it was six years, but she could have been wrong. We didn’t keep track of time at Thurmond in the usual way; I recognized seasons passing, but somewhere along the line I had stopped trying to mark it. I grew bigger, I knew every winter that I must be another year older, but none of it…it just hadn’t seemed to matter until now. “What year is it?”
Chubs snorted, rolling his eyes heavenward. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped once he got a good look at my face. I’m not sure what kind of expression I was wearing, but it erased his exasperation in two seconds flat. His narrowed eyes widened into something that looked very much like pity.