No Passengers Beyond This Point (20 page)

The dog begins digging one way, while I dig the other. She is a digging machine, this dog.

“Mouse!” I call, shale sifting through my fingers, dumping a fresh avalanche on my head.

And then from down the tunnel I hear a low howl and Mouse’s whispered voice. “Dog. You’re here.”

It takes me a while to make my way through the piles of dirt, shale, rocks, and sand, but when I get to Mouse, the blue-eyed dog has her nose up close to Mouse’s grimy face, allowing herself to be petted at last.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Mouse nods, tears making clean pink lines through the grime on her cheeks. “Finn,” she says. “The dog is here.”

I gulp the air, my insides rising up, filling my chest.

“You saved Mouse,” I tell the blue-eyed dog, running my fingers over her thick dirty coat.

“Know what I just figured out, Finn?” Mouse asks.

“What?” I scratch behind the dog’s ears.

“
Dog
is
god
backward,” she says.

“We need to give her a name,” I say.

Mouse puts her index finger to her chin, her head steady, her eyes looking up. “Boom,” she answers. “After the sound that brought us together.”

“All it took was an avalanche,” I say.

Boom wags her tail.

I
hang back, wanting to look in Bing’s wallet, but Mary Carol has a hawk eye—she doesn’t seem to mind that I’m lagging behind, but she won’t let me out of her sights either. How am I ever going to get time on my own? And then it hits me. It’s so obvious. Why didn’t I think of it before?

“Umm, Mary Carol, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Mary Carol mutters. “Closest facility is this way.” She changes course, walking back down the corridor in the direction we came and stopping at a sleek door. She presses her thumb against it and the door opens to a one-stall bathroom—no bigger than an airplane toilet—made entirely of metal.

Good. There’s only room for one person.

I walk in, move the door slot to lock, which makes the light flicker on. Then I take the wallet out of my pocket.

Inside is one dollar, and the license for Bing hand-drawn by Mouse. I take it out of the plastic sleeve Mouse made from a Baggie. Tucked in another slot is something else folded and folded again—a photo of our family. My father’s arm is around me and my mom. My mom’s arm is around Finn. My mom is very pregnant. She looks like she might tip over, her stomach is so big.

I’m in there.
Mouse has written on the side with a big arrow directed at my mom’s tummy. On the back, she wrote:
Thank you, Bing, for taking this picture when I couldn’t see on account of the skin.

I can’t stop staring at the photo. I’ve never seen it before. Mouse must have found it in the move.

My dad’s smile shines out of the picture, his eyes full of love for our family. He’s sure that we will stay this way forever. He doesn’t know that a few weeks or maybe days later he’ll be gone.

Mouse never knew him. She never felt my father’s love. She never saw us when we were complete. Is that why she made up Bing?

But the moment this photo was taken my daddy loved me with all his heart. He totally did.

This is my family. Nothing in the world is more important than that.

“India.” Mary Carol knocks on the door. “You’re over reg time for a bathroom visit.”

There’s a reg time for a bathroom visit? Jeez. “Just a minute,” I call, flushing the toilet.

I check to see what else is in the wallet. That’s when I find the tiny slip of paper written in a handwriting I don’t recognize.

Sparky? That’s the Century Training dude who’s in dispatch, right? How’s he going to help me? I don’t even have a car.

“India.” Mary Carol bangs on the door.

How much time do I have?

My clock is ticking again. I can feel it. My hand presses up against the smooth clock face. I pull it out and steal a glance . . . four hours and twelve minutes left.

I can make another choice. It isn’t too late. I’m going to find Mouse and Finn. Get out of my way. I am totally doing this. I open the bathroom door.

I feel so sure and then an instant later I’m not sure again. How can I do this? I’m not smart enough to figure this out.

Wait, though. Step by step I can think it through.

I could try to get Mary Carol on my side. Chuck jeopardized his job to help us . . . would Mary Carol? She isn’t mean, and she likes me. But rules are so important to her. I don’t think she would break a rule for me.

We walk down the corrugated aluminum hall, going in the opposite direction from Passengers Waiting. I fall behind Mary Carol. She glances back at me, but I continue to walk, my head low, trying to adopt the most obedient posture I can muster.

I can do this. I can figure it out.

We get on another tram—the purple line. This one has a bunch of people in different Falling Bird uniforms. This tram seems more normal—but very lavendery, as if I’m in lavender land.

Mary Carol smiles at me. “You’ll be a good welcomer, India. Such a beautiful voice. I’m glad we have you back.”

I put on my good welcomer face, smile, and nod.

“Laird’s a bit on the temperamental side,” she confides in me. “You’ve got some apologizing to do. He’ll expect you to eat crow for a while.”

I nod, trying to appear engaged with Mary Carol as I figure out my plan.

Mary Carol will probably hand me off to Laird at the amphitheater. If I’m to escape, I will need to get away now or else wait until she drops me off. Waiting will take precious time, but it’s less risky. It’s wild in the amphitheater during a welcoming. With so many people going wild over the new arrival, it will be easier to slip away. Laird won’t watch me as closely as Mary Carol does. Mary Carol’s eyes are totally glued to me right now.

According to the laminated map on the wall, the ride to the checkpoint station is short. I have to get on the green line and then I could totally make it out there in time. But how will I find Finn and Mouse once I get to the checkpoint? And how will we find the black box? I don’t let myself think about this. First things first.

Mary Carol notices I’m studying the map. She seems pleased to see my interest and begins explaining the different routes. I’d like to ask how you get on the green line, but I can’t think of a reason a welcomer would need to know that.

It takes thirteen minutes to get to the amphitheater stop. Thirteen whole minutes. When the lavender tram slows and the glass doors slide open, I smile and wave at Mary Carol, hoping she’ll trust me to find my post on my own. Fat chance. Mary Carol is in lockstep with me, marching me to my station, where Laird is in high energy mode, his hands gesturing wildly as he gives the dos and don’ts to a new recruit.

The girls see me first. “India!” They rush over, enveloping me in a big warm hug, placing my tunic over my head. When they finally let me surface again, I see Laird and Mary Carol watching me.

“Well, well, well,” Laird says in an acid voice. “If it isn’t India Tompkins back from the—”

“Laird,” Mary Carol snaps.

Laird and Mary Carol exchange a look. “I didn’t expect to see you again,” Laird tells me. His voice is measured now, controlled.

“Hi, Laird,” I say.

“Hi, Laird,”
he imitates. “Surely you can do better than that, India.” He waits.

“I’m sorry,” I say. Am I sorry? No, not a bit. But I need to play along here. “I didn’t realize how much this job meant to me.”

Mary Carol clears her throat. “Statute forty-one-ninety-two,” she reminds Laird, “expressly prohibits requiring wayward recruits to grovel.”

Laird snorts. “I just want a decent apology, but never mind. We’ll do it your way, Mary Carol. Come, India.” He opens his arms as if to give me a big exaggerated hug.

Mary Carol watches this. She seems reluctant to turn me over to Laird. Clearly I am right about her. In her own procedure-bound way she likes me.

“Really, Mary Carol.” Laird’s eyes bug out at her. “You can go.”

Mary Carol nods. She allows herself a little smile. “Nice to have you back, India,” she says before disappearing into the crowd, which is bursting with welcoming fever.

Laird directs his total attention on me. “India, really, you’ll need to do something with your hair,” He produces a hairbrush and hands it over as he launches into a canned lecture on what he calls re-treads—people who have to go through the training a second time. Clearly I’m not the only welcomer to have deserted her post.

“Should you make the wrong choice again, India . . . INDIA!” Laird shouts. “You’re not listening to me. What did I just say?”

“Should you make the wrong choice again,” I offer, but my hands are trembling. He saw that my mind was elsewhere. He suspects something.

Laird’s blue eyes get small as nail heads. “How long were you in Passengers Waiting?” he asks.

“I dunno,” I whisper, cold sweat dripping down my back.

“Never seen anyone get out of there.” He pauses to let this sink in. “Course, you do look like something the cat dragged in, but never mind. You’ll stay with me today, and tonight we’ll get you cleaned up.”

My eyes are drawn to the screens, which are filled with the face of a strikingly beautiful dark-skinned boy.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Laird’s voice is gentle.

“Yes,” I say truthfully.

“All right then.” He smiles, his face softening.

He knows there’s nothing like a handsome new wel-comee to keep the welcomers happy.

I
watch the movie clips of the newcomer as he wins a tennis match and reads a book to his blind sister. It feels so nice to just stand here and watch him. He is way over the top cute.

But this won’t last. I know it won’t.

In my hand is Bing’s wallet. The one that used to be my dad’s. The photo of my parents is tucked inside. They are my family.
They
are real.

I look at Laird, who is as transfixed by the screen as everyone else. Then I pull myself away from the newcomer’s beautiful face radiating from the screen and I slip through the crowd. No one sees me. They are all watching the boy.

I pretend to be a runner welcomer, edging toward the road. It’s a different job, with a different uniform, but in the thrill of the welcome, I am hoping no one will notice.

My plan is to take the tram to the border crossing, but when the newcomer’s feather taxi drives by, I have a better idea and I take off after the car.

I’ve never driven a car before, but I drove a golf cart in Palm Springs when I went on vacation with Maddy’s family. Her dad let us drive the cart at night when the golfers had all gone home. A car can’t be much different, right?

I have no idea how I will get the car away from the taxi dude. I’m trying to work this out when suddenly Laird appears. His steely fingers wrap around my tunic. But I duck out of it, leaving my tunic in his hands. I’ve still got my clothes underneath. I’m totally me inside.

I take off, running so hard my whole body vibrates, but Laird’s feet pound after me.

“You’ll never make it, India!” he shouts.

I practically fly over the road, dodging people, weaving around groups, around carts, under banners, diving under one lady’s arm. My chest heaves, my throat hurts, but I can’t stop.

The cab pulls up to a house with a large elm tree and a rope swing and a stream flowing right in front of it. The driver gets out to unload the luggage, but the newcomer is too much of a gentleman to let anyone wait on him. He flashes a smile so bright I can’t take my eyes off of his full lips. His eyelashes are so lush and long they seem unreal.

He’s joking with the driver. I lean closer to hear what they’re saying as they unload together. He’s so relaxed, so confident, the kind of person everybody likes to hang with, the kind of person who has his own thoughts, the kind of person who says things you don’t expect.