Taken (A Dystopian Novel) (The Taken Trilogy), page 18
“Well, look who finally made it to The Clave! Jackson!” I hear Russell say. He parts the crowd Moses style. They all watch him walk to me. The fire rages behind him, a blazing sack of some sort swinging in the wind. A face is drawn on it. They have been burning Richards in effigy.
“Russ…” I motion with my head at my two captors.
“Let him go…” Russell says complying, but then he holds up one finger. “Unless there isn’t anything in his backpack.”
I give Russell an annoyed look as his goons rip my backpack from my arms. I jerk it away from them and open it. “There are about a dozen cans in there--” I hold up a can of peas, but before I can finish speaking, I am mauled by the crowd. Hands and shouts come from every direction, and I fall to the ground. I pray I’m still clothed when it’s over. No one bothers to help me up after everything’s been looted. I stand, though I am not completely unscathed, as a scratch stretches across one of my arms.
“Not a good idea waving food around,” Russell lectures. He shakes two cans next to his head. I scowl at him. He had been a part of the mob.
He leads me through the rest of The Clave. People are dancing and drinking. Arms twirl imaginary circles in the air. A group of boys sings off-key. Some are clawing through the cans I brought. A group of people is preparing to take to the streets. All of it actually looks like fun. Then, I see her. Charlie. She is sitting with another girl, talking. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes widen when she sees me.
“We have business to discuss, Jackson,” Russell groans.
“In a sec.” I wave him off as I walk to Charlie.
“Whatever you have to tell me better be good!”
Charlie halts her conversation when I approach, and the girl she’s talking to looks between us. She lifts a bottle of water to her lips and smiles around it. She excuses herself.
“Charlie…hi.”
“Mississippi,” she says. “Surprised to see you slumming it here with us.” She strolls into one of the houses, and I trail her into the darkness.
“Slumming?” I ask.
“Welcome to Casa de Charlie,” she says. “No heat, no electricity and very temperamental pipes.” She walks effortlessly through the darkness and lights a few melted candles. “It’s also prone to fires. I would offer you a bottle of water, but we only have three left.”
“Slumming?” I repeat as I pace around the dimly lit room. The furniture is in a state of disrepair. Stuffing bursts from threadbare cushions. The carpet is missing patches, and there is a large hole in the wall. I follow her into the kitchen. All of the cupboards are missing their doors and some are missing shelves.
“Thought you had a brother,” I say.
“He’s out getting dinner,” she says as she jumps up and sits on the counter. She beckons me with a finger and when I approach, she rakes my hair back before running her hands down from my shoulders to my fingers. She places my hands on the counter on either side of her. Her dangling legs bump against me. She draws her face close to mine. A fiery feeling pulses in my chest. From the moment I met her, I have thought about this exact situation, and the temptation to kiss her nearly overwhelms me, but something feels different.
“Charlie--” I start to say, but the door opens and closes behind me, and the two of us are startled.
“Char, I got good stuff tonight so hurry up before everyone else comes!” the male voice says. It oscillates between a high and low pitch, a clear sign of puberty.
“I guess we have company,” he says with a laugh. A lanky, mop-haired boy walks over confidently and grabs my hand. He shakes his hair out of his eyes.
“Hi, I’m Joey, but everyone calls me Hands,” he jolts my arm wildly with the handshake. I can tell that he’s a jovial guy. He drops my hand abruptly and tosses a bag to Charlie. She anxiously tears it open.
“Good stuff?” She crumples it shut. “You ate most of it before you got here!”
“Sorry. It was a long walk back,” Hands shrugs before turning to me. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were going to be here. I only brought enough for two people. You new to The Clave?”
“This is Mississippi. He doesn’t live here and he brought lots of food,” Charlie says and hops down from the counter. I glare at her for trying to make the nickname stick.
“Jackson,” I say.
“You live in town. Cool!” Hands takes a bite out of an apple. “I usually don’t go into town until late, to get food. Used to live there a long time ago. I’ll probably go hunting tomorrow, sis. It was nice meeting you, Jackson.” He disappears into one of the back rooms.
“Hunting?”
“Lots of wooded areas around. Animals survived The Epidemic or were immune it or something, and I told you Hands is a good shot.”
“I remember, but stealing and hunting…”
“We don’t always steal,” she says. Her eyes narrow as she grows indignant. “A lot of people just give us stuff for messing with the governor and the security, but most of the time we trade them bootleg liquor for canned goods or produce. We have a garden here, sometimes. Water’s the problem. There are two wells here, but sometimes the pumps break. Not all the houses get clean water either, but it’s so much better than living out there. At least I still have my soul in here.”
“You don’t think I have a soul?”
“I don’t know,” she says flatly. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“What does that mean?” I take a step toward her.
“Not all of us have the luxury of eating at the compound. I heard only Wicker Farm’s finest attended your sister’s party,” she sneers.
“My sister spent her birthday in The Institute,” I say.
“Plenty of us spent our birthdays there and in worse places.”
“I’m doing what I have to do to get out of here, and you’re getting mad at me for it. Unless of course, this isn’t anger…and it’s something else.”
She glances at me with a petulant look and says, “You think I’m jealous? You think I’m jealous!”
I do. “I didn’t say that.”
“I’m not,” she says, but her flared eyes betray her. There is more she wants to say, but we’re interrupted by a guy running into her house.
“Charlie! You hungry?” He is clutching a can. My can.
“Yeah,” she says. She leaves her own house without saying goodbye. I trail them to where I left Russell standing. He’s gone, but someone points out the direction of where he went. For some reason, I had expected the house to be in better shape than the others because he was their leader, not the grotesque structure before me with its caved-in roof, and hinges that were struggling to hold the door up. It’s dark inside. In the windowsill I spot a candle and a matchbook. I light the candle.
The house is mostly bare except for a dingy carpet, but there are deep indentations from where furniture used to be. I follow the sound of movement to the kitchen. Cupboards are swinging off the hinges and broken pieces of tile lay scattered across the counter and the floor.
“Don’t worry, I don’t actually stay here, just use it occasionally. I have to be a bit more nomadic. As you know, I’m famous.
So you done making googly eyes at Sweet Pea? She’s a lovely girl. Out of your league though,” Russell says. He has managed to saw away some of the aluminum off one of the cans I brought with a knife.
“I heard she passed on you, too.”
“Touché,” he says absently. He pumps his fists after he turns the can sideways and chunks of fruit roll into a bowl. A copy of The Aeneid is also on the counter.
“Fire and booze, easy to find. Ask for my damn can opener and everyone turns to amnesiacs. ” He invites me to sit, even though there isn’t anywhere to sit.
“Did you change the code word because of Erin?”
“You mean the nosey, talkative brat with the glasses? Yes. She’s not even Resistance material, but she must have overheard something while she was poking her nose around because no one left her any code in her book. Just have to be more careful. Now we use a combination of a code word and a hand signal.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, why patchouli?”
“My grandmother’s perfume,” he says solemnly.
“Yeah I heard--”
“Well, c’mon with it. I’ve been waiting with bated breath,” he says interrupting me as he pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. “What new info do you have?”
“My signal got really strong when I stood right next to the ‘Restricted Access’ door at The Institute. One of them is back there, but it’s going to be impossible,” I explain.
“That’s not new, and why don’t you use Sasha’s access card? She definitely has one,” he says nonchalantly as he chews. I flash a reluctant look at him. I’m actually starting to develop something with her, and I have lied to her so much already. She is one of us and I care for her. But I don’t say any of that to him.
“And I suppose she’ll hand over her thumb after that? Because the door needs a thumb scan and a code, too. There are always people around, and who knows what else I’ll run into once I’m through those doors,” I counter. Russell throws his hands up.
“Why do you all of a sudden doubt your ability to get things done?” Russell asks suspiciously. “Scaling fences! Fooling people! Outsmarting me when you first got here! You’ve done it all! This should be small potatoes for you!”
“You are crazy.”
“We have a uniform. It’s outdated, but it’ll get you through. Just don’t look anyone in the eye! You can do it!” he cajoles me. He even nudges me. “We can get Marcus and some of the others to create a distraction. They’ll probably call all the officers, and you’ll be able to get through.”
“Sasha’s card will register as being swiped…”
“Who cares? She might get in a little trouble…big fucking deal. She’s Richards’ daughter. How much trouble could she possibly get in,” he reasons. I swallow hard, and his eyes narrow. He smirks.
“Oh I see. You care if she gets in trouble. You don’t want that,” he says. He paces the room angrily. His fists are balled tightly.
“I’ll find another way in, Russ. If Sasha’s card gets swiped and someone notices, the whole thing blows up for us,” I say, hopefully dismissing his beliefs about my feelings toward Sasha. He considers in silence as he stalks.
“I suppose you’re right,” he says, but his tone reeks of skepticism. He picks up the bowl of fruit. “What about the compound?”
“Same deal with a door in Richards’ house.”
“That should be easy. Just throw another party!” he says sarcastically.
I think that they were being far too childish about the party. They have no idea what it is like to be around Richards or security officers and worry about whether they will be caught at any moment. I am doing all the work.
“We’re still in this together, Russ. I’ve figured out where two machines are. I’m doing everything we agreed on,” I say. “I’ve even been paying attention to how many officers are in the compound everyday and in Richards’ house so the day we plan to turn the machines on, we know what to expect.” I take the slip of paper from my pocket and hand it to him. He takes it and crosses the room. He keeps walking until he leaves me standing there alone. When he returns, his hands are hidden behind his back, and I don’t like the look on his face.
“I want you to get more security uniforms,” he says as he hands me the one he was wearing the day I first tried to escape.
“You already have one,” I say. I try to control the suspicion in my voice as I take the uniform.
“I need another. A few more actually,” he says vaguely. I try to read his eyes as he walks by to finish off the bowl of fruit. Then, he flips through The Aeneid without looking at it. He tosses the bowl into the sink.
“How did you get this one in the first place?” I ask.
“We used to have a security officer with The Resistance,” he explains. “Once Richards found out that his police force has been compromised he changed the uniforms. From afar, it looks like the current ones, but with a more scrutinizing eye, it’s easy to notice.”
“Was it Brian?”
“God. No. He was kissing Richards’ ass by then. The officer actually disappeared after.”
“What happened between you two? You and Brian?” I ask. His head snaps back in my direction.
“I know Charlie wants to call you ‘Mississippi’, but I vote for ‘Curious Carol’. What do you think? Can you get the uniforms or not?”
“I know a security officer. I’ll try to work him. Maybe he can show me where they are in the compound. It’ll take some time though--” I stop talking because he’s on the verge of laughter. The candle goes out.
“I’m starting to think you’re not tough enough for this, Jackson. You have too kind of a heart,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. “Just get the uniforms and frame him.”
I raise my eyebrows, unsure of what to think, especially when he does not elaborate further.
“No.” I am desperate to get back home, but not enough to destroy the lives of people here. Not a security officer’s and especially not Sasha’s. He doesn’t look surprised at my answer.
“Do you think I’m a good leader, Jackson?”
“I have no idea Russell, but people sure do like to do what you say, myself included.”
“Do you think I can be a better leader?”
“I have no idea.”
Russell strides out of the room and out of the house, and I follow him. The Clave is quieter, and the effigy is a blackened, sizzling mess on the ground, but people are still milling about. Charlie, Jefferson, Bullseye and Hands are all out there.
“I’m not going to do that. I won’t frame anyone to get this done. Won’t happen,” I say sternly, but I suspect he already knew. Everyone turns to look at the two of us. I see Russell’s shoulders rise and fall as he sighs. When he pivots to look at me, I expect him to challenge me, but he doesn’t. He needs me more than I need him. I bet he knows that too.
“That uniform…” He gestures at the one I’m holding. “Might come in handy, but could you just try to get the current ones? I would be eternally grateful,” he says in a surprisingly sincere and earnest voice. He kicks at what’s left of the burned sack.
“If you really need them, I’ll see what I can do,” I say noncommittally as I stuff the uniform into my bag, which happens to be lying on the ground and covered in footprints. Russell nods. The truth is I’m not sure I need him anymore, especially after what I have seen tonight. Both he and Charlie have been off putting. Maybe it was time to start keeping the two of them at arms length. Maybe I need new allies altogether.
I leave The Clave and scurry back to the Sanders house. I can move a lot quicker without a thirty pound backpack. Mr. Sanders greets me this time. He thanks me for the extra rations and he leads me to the bedroom I’m staying in. There’s too much on my mind to induce sleep right away. I toss and turn all night, and I leave their house shortly after curfew ends in the morning.
By the time I reach Nora’s an abundance of morning sunlight has shifted the shadows. The guard gives me an inquisitive look.
“Spent the night at my girlfriend’s,” I say
“None of my business, kid,” he says as the gate opens. Aubrey is on her way to school, and Nora is headed to The Institute, but she gestures for me to follow her into the house.
“Richards must be please with himself. The new people in transition are having a hard time. It’s so disturbing,” she says placing her face in her hands. “Today I heard there are more people. I don’t like being involved, Jackson.”
“I know, Nora,” I say as I give her a hug. After she leaves, I shower and dress hurriedly to get to work on time. I greet Roger as I walk through the door of our building. Seeing him reminds me of what Russell has asked me to do. Marco is already compiling the results from the surveys we collected in our cubicle. I slide my chair next to him so that we can work together.
“People want more rations, they want security to stop bothering them so much and more things to do besides Community Day,” he announces. “Speaking of which, I found out a little more about Richards’ ‘special trip’, the one that Morse was talking about.”
“Well?” I prompt.
“The city Richards is going to is one of the functioning ones that people still live in, and it’s pretty safe from the marauders. Richards has been going back and forth for awhile now. It’s a couple hours away, I think. I’m really curious to see.”
“I’ve been thinking I want to get out of Wicker Farm. It’s feeling really claustrophobic,” I say, nodding. His eyes light up.
“Well, then we’ve got to bust our asses. Let’s stay late tonight and get this done. Maybe even do some other work. Really suck up to Morse,” Marco says excitedly. “I feel like yelling ‘Road trip’, but it seems inappropriate in this case.”
We power through the surveys and decide that we will only take a fifteen minute lunch break so that we can finish them up before our classes. We eat in our usual spot in the courtyard, and I continue to take note of the security officers marching around.
“We’re still looking out for each other, right?” Anxiety grips my stomach after I ask. He cocks his eyebrows and starts to chew slower.
“Yeah, man. Of course,” he says before swallows the bite of his sandwich.
“Ever wonder what they use to get our worlds on the same plane or level or whatever?” I whisper. He coughs then reaches for his water, gulping it down ferociously. He rolls his hand in a circle, urging me to continue. I hesitate for a second because he is completely red in the face.
“They are some type of machines. One is in The Institute and another is in Richards’ house,” I say. I tell him about how my cell phone behaved near those doors.
