The Indigo Thief (20 page)

“You can insult me all day, Miranda, but it won’t solve anything.”

“Why don’t you just drink? Or have you not got that charley horse anymore? Such a pity about the cramps, really…”

“Damn it, Miranda! I shouldn’t have to wait so long for my antidote.”

“Not my fault the girl screwed up. At least we know the poison’s working, right? I find it reassuring, anyway. And if you talk to me in that way again, I’ll have your throat slit. Or perhaps make you wait a
week
for the next antidote rather than a day… We’ll see what you think of your little charley horse then. I’ve got a meeting for you with the chairman scheduled at two-thirty. He’s traveling in from Oahu.”

“The chairman? Of what board?”

“My dear Hackner, he’s traveling in from Oahu—it’s the chairman of the Indigo Reserve Board.”

“Right, then… Howey? The one with the—the waterworks?”

She laughed. “He’s always been a bit soft, hasn’t he?”

“Like melted chocolate.” Sage could almost hear the smile on his lips. “What exactly are we discussing again?”

“The supply of Indigo. There’s simply not enough anymore. Not with all the attacks. We’ve got to raise the age—increase the lottery pool’s size.”

Hackner snorted. “You want more dead kids? That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. It’s about the Lost Boys and the Caravan. The buzzards are circling us like we’re a carcass.”

“And you wouldn’t nuke the nightclub.”

“If I wanted to throw this nation into chaos, I’d let the buzzards do it.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Meet with Chairman Howey. Tell him to raise the vaccination age to sixteen. Have him make an announcement to the public that the vaccine supply is simply too low to keep the eligibility age at fifteen.”

“And how exactly will that stop the Lost Boys?”

“Because,” said Miranda slowly, “the people won’t just see them as thieves who steal Indigo anymore. They’ll see them as thieves who steal
children’s lives
. The children who die as a result of going another year without a vaccination and having further exposure to the Carcinogens. And when more children die, the people themselves will take care of the Lost Boys… We’ll just sit back and watch the chaos unfold.” She paused. “The meeting’s at two-thirty, Hackner—that’s in ten minutes. Don’t keep Chairman Howey waiting. Lord knows he’ll start crying.”

Sage heard Hackner grabbing his things, and she hurried on down the hall.

“Hey!” he shouted behind her, and she knew his face would be full of contempt. She could feel his rage pulsating toward her like a heartbeat—after all, she was the reason his antidote had been delayed. “What are you doing around here?”

Without stopping, Sage turned her head and put her fingers just below her right eye, giving him the Federal salute, then deliberately walked right into the wall ahead of her. “I’m so, uh, sorry, sir,” she said, trying to sound out of breath. “It’s just—well, sometimes these halls get confusing, what with not being able to see—”

She stepped back, turned, and then strode forward, slamming into a different wall, even harder this time. Hackner burst into a fit of laughter. His footsteps trailed off down the hall, wandering off to his meeting, still chuckling. He always fell for her poor little blind girl schtick.

Sage hurried toward the prison. By now, she’d be late for her meeting with Charlie. Not that the prisoner had anything else going on, or even a watch to measure time with for that matter, but to Sage it was the principle that mattered.

On the way into the prison, she grabbed a bundle of rope from the supply closet. As she entered the cell area, Eddie, the two o’clock guard, sighed. His voice cracked as he spoke—too many cigarettes. “That time again?” She nodded, knowing he was looking at her rope. “Shame,” he said. “This one’s real purty.”

He handed her the keys. The retina scanner beeped green as Sage whispered her name, and then she raced down the hall to cell sixteen and pulled open the door. “Sorry I’m late,” she whispered.

“You shouldn’t have told me,” said Charlie, laughing. “It’s not like I’ve got the time in here.”

Sage dropped the bundle of rope onto the floor. She heard Charlie kick it under the bed. “I’ve been thinking…” Sage began.

“That’s good,” Charlie said, nodding. “Thinking’s always good.”

“I think we should leave the day after tomorrow—two days’ time.”

“What?” Charlie grabbed her arm. “You’re sure, Sage?”

Sage nodded. Her hands were still sore from where she’d held the white rope. She’d never seen it, but she knew it was white—the prisoners had told her. “Positive. Things aren’t great around here. I overheard the chancellor say he was raising the vaccination age.”

“That—that’s not possible. The people wouldn’t allow it.”

“Too many attacks by the Lost Boys, he said. They’re hurting the supply, and making shortages worse. ”

“Where do they even get Indigo, anyway?”

“The Ministry of Research & Development.” Her glazed eyes stared straight ahead: she didn’t like to talk about the Ministry of R&D, but she’d talk about it with Charlie. “Headquartered in Kauai,” she continued. “They manufacture it in the labs there. It’s a long process—very labor-intensive, and there’s not much yield from what I’ve heard. Plus, demand’s always too high.”

“You lived there,” said Charlie. She must have heard the certainty in Sage’s voice. “In Kauai? That’s where you grew up, isn’t it?”

Sage nodded. It was so long ago.

“That’s where I grew up, too.”

“But the guards said you were from Moku Lani.”

“The Feds moved me to H.E.A.L. after my parents passed. That’s where I met Kai. He used to visit the kids there with his mom, Mrs. B. They’d bring in gifts for kids on their birthdays. His mom loved birthdays. Mine was only a week after I first got there.”

“Who’s Kai?”

“No one,” Charlie said quickly. “Just this—friend. Well… I mean… you know?” She sucked in a breath. “He’s just a really good friend.”

Sage leaned against the bed. “Do you think he’d be my friend, too?”

“Of course,” Charlie said, laughing. “Kai would be lucky to have you as a friend. You’d both be lucky. He’s a great friend.”

Sage sat on the bed, and felt the rope brush against her ankles. “I’ve been thinking about how to escape,” she said. “And I’ve realized, there really is only one way to get out.”

“With the rope?”

Sage nodded. “Around your neck.”

Charlie swallowed hard. “I was afraid of that.”

“But we can fake it,” Sage said, grasping Charlie’s hands. “We can make them
think
you’re dead. I could carry you down the hall in a body bag, and then, once we’re out of sight, we can run away. They won’t figure out we’re missing until it’s too late. I can get us out of the Light House, and then you can get us the rest of the way. Back to home.”

“In Kauai?” asked Charlie.

“There’s still rainforest left there,” said Sage, nodding. “They’d never find us.”

“You really think it would work?”

“Of course it will.” She hoped Charlie wouldn’t hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Deep down, she wasn’t sure at all. But now, since they’d made her bring the rope to the cell, she knew it was the only option. Things were about to get much worse for Charlie. Starvation was nothing. The things that were in store for her now…

Sage had brought the rope to cell fourteen last week. Sometimes the screams echoed into the hallway late into the night. Minister Zane visited that prisoner twice a day now. Sage was allowed to bring food to a cell again whenever that happened—when they moved on to real torture. Because at that point, they wanted to make sure the prisoner stayed alive. Or at least, that they could only die by choice.

“I’ll try to stop back again before two days’ time,” Sage said, standing. “I can’t be in here much longer, or Cook will come looking for me.”

“Wait,” said Charlie. “Are you sure you have to go?”

Sage nodded, but an unfamiliar feeling burned in her chest. It was a new experience—the thought that someone
wanted
her there. “One of the guards will be by tomorrow,” she said. “He’ll tie the rope above your bed.”

Sage felt Charlie wrap her arms around her, and her heart lifted from her chest. She felt joy. It was strange after so much despair. When she left, she turned the key in the lock, then practically skipped to the end of the hall.

It was a good day. They’d all been good days since she’d met Charlie.

But her joy betrayed her, and Sage, usually so cautious, didn’t notice the man standing in the hall—the man who’d been standing outside Charlie’s cell door. Sage hadn’t heard the heavy breathing of a man still fuming; a man who’d heard their entire plan.

I bit down hard on the regulator and sucked in another breath of cold, compressed air.
Scuba diving
, they’d called it as we’d been suited up with the gear. In the old days, people wore all this stuff to breathe underwater—the only way they had of exploring the ocean depths.

Now the Caravan used it as a test of strength and mental resilience—a test everyone had to pass before they were allowed aboard. Over the years, the Caravan had seen many castaways, and they couldn’t take them all. So they only took in those people who could contribute to the movement—whatever “the movement” was, exactly. The test we were about to undergo would determine our ability to contribute. If we didn’t pass, we died. It was that simple.

Rule number one of scuba diving
, the man who’d helped us suit up said,
is don’t hold your breath.
That was a hard rule for me to follow. After all, we were only going down eighty feet. I’d dived this deep many times before on a single breath from the cliffs of Moku Lani.
That’s how most of them die,
he’d explained
. The compressed air expands in your lungs as you surface. Forget to exhale and—pop! You’ve lost a lung. And there’s no room on the Caravan for people with only one lung. The Medical Bay’s pressed enough as it is.

The metal cage they lowered us down in was even more surprising. The cage was for our protection, they’d told us. In the past, sharks had attacked too many men during the test. Of course, the cage wouldn’t do a thing against the megalodons. So if you cut your finger on the way down… well, the Caravan cut you loose and left. It couldn’t afford to be caught near a feeding frenzy.

The crank groaned as we descended farther into the water. I sucked in a breath from the regulator, watching as bubbles burst from its sides when I exhaled. It seemed like a horribly inefficient way to breathe underwater. The ReBreathers we now used seemed so much more advanced.

Mila grabbed my hand. I flashed her an OK sign, and she nodded and did the same. I was glad for her company—it had been her first time on the Caravan too, and at Phoenix’s suggestion, they’d allowed us to do the test together.

The Caravan’s fog plates rested eighty feet below the surface, and—having been crafted from stainless steel, among other things—were constantly in need of a good polish. Without it, they’d never last forever. I couldn’t imagine doing the polishing alone; it would be hard even with two people.

In Federal waters, the whole process wouldn’t have been a big issue. People could dive down in the open and polish the plates without much thought. But outside Federal waters… well, things were different. The slightest cut or the smallest scratch could cost someone their life. Any hint of blood, and the megalodons would be upon you—and when that happened, you were dead. One of the Caravites had even advised against peeing in the water. Too close to blood, I guessed.

The Caravan had used the plates heavily, and they were in dire need of a good polish. The Caravites couldn’t afford to let them rust. They were frankly lucky we had arrived as first-timers; otherwise, they would have had to risk the lives of their own men rather than “test” some strangers.

We had until our oxygen ran out to complete the polishing. If we failed to finish the set of plates by then, we would be deemed unfit to join the Caravan. Each new Caravite was a new mouth to feed, and they could only afford so many crazy fishermen like Churchill. Those who were deemed unfit were left, abandoned, floating in open water. A death sentence, in their minds. If you couldn’t pull your weight below the water, the Caravites doubted you could above.

The crank’s groans stopped when we reached depth, and I studied the black abyss sprawled out beneath us. There was light at our depth, but only just. The Caravites had given us flashlights and brushes to scrub the plates, and that was it. I could’ve used a goody bag, with maybe some pretzels as a snack.

I switched on my light, and it shined beyond the cage, bouncing off the plates’ shimmering metal and reflecting back at me. Mila nodded, and I pushed the cage’s gate open and kicked hard. Salt water seeped into my eyes through the corners of my goggles. I gestured for Mila to join me outside the cage, but she just shook her head, pointing behind me.

A megalodon floated next to the plate, having swum up when my back was turned. Its beady eyes ogled the plate and the glow that shined off it as a result of my flashlight. The monster didn’t appear to notice me; it seemed transfixed by the allure of the mysterious sheet of metal. I kept my hand still, and my flashlight poised in the plate’s direction, but my body sank in the water as I fought to maintain buoyancy. The light flicked away for a split second, and the megalodon gnashed its massive teeth, its beady black eyes still greedily gulping in the light. It apparently hadn’t noticed the flicker.

My lungs demanded oxygen, so I breathed deeply and rose in the water. The light began to move from the plate yet again. The megalodon’s black eyes turned to the light source and me as I rose. I froze, reminding myself not to move—movement meant certain death.

I floated higher in the water, bending only my wrist to keep the light focused on the plates. I rose higher, then let out a breath to sink farther down. The regulator bubbled as pockets of air shot out from the sides. The megalodon swam forward, away from the plates, and toward the bubbles that now floated upward, its eyes still focused on the light.