City 1

To Wendy and Cadence, and the Zoo:

Crash, Furball, and Mia

THEY SLIPPED THROUGH THE ISLAND, CLAY LEADING THE WAY. KEVIN
was pushed along by Grennel's impossibly strong grip on his shoulder. Black smoke from the fire curled into the cloudless sky. Another plume billowed up from the south, thickening and covering the southern sky. Was the Wall itself in flames? Not that it mattered—with the control unit stolen from Dr. Winston's lab and tucked away in Grennel's pack, the once-invisible Wall was now nothing more than a pile of burned logs.

Islanders were running toward the southern fire, and in the distance Kevin could hear yells and screams. Not everyone was worrying about the fire, though—they passed near a group of ten Island men who stood in a tight circle, punching and kicking and stomping something on the ground. Kevin
caught a glimpse of white neo-plas—a flash of a bot leg—before Grennel hustled him past.

Hiking southwest from the Island, through forest and occasionally along short stretches of a cracked two-lane roadway, Captain Clay pushed a brutal pace all day and into the night. The speed was bad enough, but Clay had also decided to use Kevin as a mule for her gear. He was weighed down with her heavy backpack that felt like it was loaded with rocks.

Kevin stared at Clay's back as he struggled to keep up, replaying those final moments in the laboratory over and over—his grandfather crumpled on the ground, smoke rising from his smoldering shirt; Captain Clay shrugging, then casually telling Grennel to kill Kevin, too, as if she were telling Grennel to step on a spider.

It had been Dr. Winston's dying words—that Kevin was his grandson—that kept Clay from killing Kevin. But Kevin didn't think his reprieve would last if he slowed her down. So he struggled on, hunched forward under the heavy weight of the pack, nearly jogging to keep up with Clay.

Her long arms and legs, lean but muscular, flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed—it seemed like she was barely able to keep herself from breaking into a run as she strode along, full of energy that bordered on mania. Her black ponytail, tied with a ragged brown string, bounced with her rapid stride.

“Where are we going?” Kevin said.

Clay ignored him.

When Clay finally stopped walking it was well after midnight. Kevin was so exhausted and dazed that he almost walked right into Clay's back as she stopped in a meadow off the road.

“We'll rest here until daybreak,” Clay said, nodding at Grennel, who unshouldered his pack and pulled out two thin bedrolls. They auto-inflated into six-inch-thick mattresses. Kevin didn't bother to ask about a bedroll for himself—he knew better.

He let his pack drop heavily to the ground with a thud. He sat down on the grass, shrugging his shoulders and arching his back, trying to work out the kinks and pinched muscles caused by the heavy equipment. Grennel tossed something into Kevin's lap, and he was so tired he barely flinched. It was an energy paste pack. He had eaten one for lunch, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Eat before you sleep,” said Grennel. “And drink. We'll be walking hard at first light.”

Kevin ripped open the pack and sucked in a mouthful. He quickly washed it down with a swig from his canteen. He hated the bitterness of the paste, and the chalky texture that coated his mouth and made the bitter taste linger. Still, he forced himself to finish it all, grimacing. Grennel was right—if he was going to keep moving, he needed the food.

To Kevin's surprise, both Clay and Grennel lay down on their mats and shut their eyes. Grennel's pack—with the Wall
unit inside—rested on the ground near his right arm. Were they really going to leave him unguarded? Kevin almost felt more angry than happy. Did they think he was so harmless, so weak, that they could just go to sleep without him running away? Or—he knew he'd never do this, but still—he could kill them in their sleep, couldn't he?

Kevin lay down, resting his head on his hands. He narrowed his eyes to slits and watched Clay and Grennel. He'd wait awhile for them to fall into a deeper sleep, and then he'd take his grandfather's Wall control unit, and he'd slip away. Clay had no right to it.
She murdered for it
, Kevin thought bitterly. It would serve her right to wake up and find both Kevin and the control unit gone.

He waited, and he thought about his brother and sister, wondering where they were and what they were doing. How in the world was he going to find them? He pushed the thought down. First order of business: Take the Wall unit and get far away from Grennel and Clay. Survive. Find a Freepost. Then somehow get back to his brother and sister.

After twenty minutes, with both Clay and Grennel breathing steadily, Kevin pushed himself to his feet. Moving swiftly, trying to be as silent as possible, he shifted toward Grennel. Twice he froze, holding his breath, as Grennel let out a heavy snore. He finally got close enough to Grennel's pack, and he reached down, slowly, very slowly, to take it.

Grennel's hand shot out like a snake and grabbed his wrist,
and Grennel's other hand clamped over his mouth, stifling Kevin's yelp.

“Quiet,” said Grennel softly in his ear. “If the Captain wakes up, it won't go well for you.”

Kevin struggled, but Grennel was so strong that Kevin could barely move. Grennel tightened his grip on Kevin's arm, squeezing so hard that it was sure to leave a bruise. Kevin knew that this was just a fraction of Grennel's strength—he'd seen what the man was capable of when they escaped the Island.

Up close, Grennel's sheer size was unbelievable. He towered over Kevin like a tree, and he was twice as broad. His nose was flattened and crooked, obviously broken more than once. He had a long, raised scar that ran jaggedly up his right forearm. Kevin ceased his useless efforts to free himself.

“I sleep lightly,” said Grennel. “You won't be able to leave without my noticing.”

Still, Kevin considered making a break for it. Would Grennel be able to keep up? Without a doubt, Kevin realized.

“Even if you do somehow manage to escape, it'll be easy enough to track you,” Grennel continued. “And then, when you're found, the Captain won't be lenient.”

“Then let me leave,” Kevin mumbled against Grennel's palm, his breath hot in his own mouth.

The large man shook his head. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Really, I am.” With a look at Clay, Grennel released him. He bent down and opened the backpack that Kevin had been forced
to carry. He pulled out some food packs, clothing, and two small vidscreens. “I can, however, lighten your load,” he said. “Tomorrow it'll be less of a struggle for you to keep up.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Kevin said sarcastically.

“You are welcome,” Grennel replied solemnly, and Kevin couldn't decide if Grennel had missed Kevin's sarcasm or purposely ignored it. Grennel carried the gear over to his own pack, and quietly stowed it away. He stood, and pointed at the ground by Kevin's feet. “Sleep,” he said. “We've got another long day tomorrow.”

Kevin didn't move. Grennel shrugged. “Then stand all night. But don't try to leave again. And stay away from my pack.”

Grennel lay back down. Kevin continued to hold his ground, his arms crossed stubbornly. But as Grennel ignored him it didn't take long for Kevin to feel foolish. He cursed, and arranged himself back on the cold, hard earth. Giving Grennel one last glare, it seemed the man was asleep again. How had he moved so fast, and so silently?

Kevin felt like a coward as he lay there with no restraints, no guard. For now, though, he'd have to remain with Clay and Grennel. Find out where they were heading. Figure out what Clay was planning to do with the control unit.

Eventually he'd escape, he told himself. With the control unit. He'd find his brother and sister, and they'd somehow get their parents out of the City, and move to a new Freepost so
he'd never have to see Clay or Grennel again. Kevin was cold and scared, and he had no idea how he was going to make any of that happen. It took a long time to finally drift into a shallow, fitful sleep.

It seemed like just minutes later that Clay was roughly nudging him awake with her foot.

Kevin was exhausted after his restless night, but the lighter pack did help, and he was able to keep pace. By midday, however, his legs were aching and the pack felt like it had doubled in weight. He stumbled as he climbed through a dry creek bed, falling to one knee. Grennel grabbed his pack and lifted him effortlessly to his feet. Clay glared back at them, but turned away and kept walking without a word. “We're close,” Grennel whispered, too quietly for Clay to hear. “You'll be able to rest when we arrive at the camp.” Kevin shrugged out from Grennel's grip, saying nothing, but secretly grateful for the news.

An hour later, a man in dark green camouflage stepped out from behind a tree, a burst rifle slung over his shoulder but pointing at the ground.

“General?” the man said.

Clay nodded.

The man grinned. “It's an honor to meet you,” he said. “Follow me, please.”

General?
Kevin wondered.
Is this some sort of military camp? And Clay's now a
general
? What happened to “Captain”?

The man in camouflage led them northwest for ten minutes, following the creek bed, until Kevin could see the campsite—a dozen tents set between trees, a cookfire in a small clearing, a handful of men and women in mismatched military and hunting gear.

Clay straightened her spine and threw her head back, suddenly energized. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water down her back. She strode into the camp. “Greetings, soldiers!” she called out. “It's a joy to finally meet! Are you ready to kill some City bots?”

The rebels gave her a ragged cheer.

Kevin was so bone tired he dropped the pack to the ground and thought about just lying down right there. He wearily looked around the camp, noting the thirty or so men and women, who looked as if they had been living in the woods for a long time—they were all dirty, and thin, and grim. Most had burst rifles slung over their backs, or pistols holstered at their waists.

Then his breath caught in his throat and he choked back a sob. His brother, sister, and Lexi were grinning at him from across the clearing.

They are alive!
He hadn't realized until that moment just how hopeless and alone he felt. . . . He took two quick running steps toward them, then halted, his grin dying on his face.

He couldn't let Clay know about them. Better they stayed away from her and didn't attract her dangerous attention.

But of course they were racing up to greet him. Kevin shook his head no, like he could possibly explain everything with just a shake of his head—the Island, the Wall, that their grandfather was Dr. Miles Winston . . . who had been murdered by Clay and Grennel. But Cass reached him first, slamming into him with a hug that almost knocked him down.

“I remember you,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You're back. And I
remember
you.”

“You remember me?” Kevin was confused. “It hasn't been that long, has it?”

Cass stepped back, her smile weakening. “For a while, well, I just . . . it's complicated. . . .”

Nick and Lexi reached them. “Kevin! Where have you been? What happened?” Nick asked, grabbing Kevin.

Kevin returned the hug, but saw Clay approaching in his peripheral vision, shaking hands and clapping backs on the way. He stepped back from Nick. “Don't tell her who you are,” he whispered urgently.

Nick frowned, and began to say, “What . . .” but then shut his mouth when Clay stepped next to Kevin and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Seems like a nice reunion,” she said to Kevin. “Who are these three?”

“Nobody,” said Kevin. He stepped out from under her hand with a grimace. “Just . . . they're people I knew from my old Freepost.”

Clay stared at Nick, Cass, and Lexi for a long moment, then looked back at Kevin. “The boy looks like you,” she said. “I have more important things to do right now, but that's not something I'll be forgetting soon, Kevin.” She strode away, back toward the middle of the camp.

“Rust,” said Kevin. “Rust, rust, rust.”

“What is going on?” said Nick. “Who was that?”

“She shouldn't know that we're related,” whispered Kevin. “It's not safe for you. She's dangerous.”

“Who is she?” repeated Nick.

And then Clay began to speak from the center of the crowd, standing atop a small rock. Her voice boomed out. “Fellow rebels!” She paused for effect. “I've been looking forward to this day for a long time. Now that we've destroyed the Island, and its bot lovers, it's time to take back our world. With our courage and our strength, victory is within our grasp!” The rebels cheered.

“I have the tool that we need,” Clay continued. “The technology, pried from the hands of a coward, which will allow us to strike directly at the bot-held Cities. We will begin small, but we will be smart and our strength will grow. We will not stop until mankind is free!”

Things began to fall into place for Kevin. That “coward” was his grandfather, Dr. Winston. And the “tool” was the Wall unit she had stolen.
But how will she use it?
he wondered.
To build her own wall? That makes no sense. . . .

The rebels let out another cheer, and Clay stood quietly, grinning, soaking it in. She raised her hands, and the group fell quiet. She turned and looked toward Kevin. “Nothing will stand in our way,” she said. “No bot, no True Believer traitors, no old cowards. We will do what must be done.”

Kevin felt a twinge of nervous nausea. “Doing what must be done” had already included destroying the Island and shooting an old man in the back. What would be next?