Beat (12 page)

I blinked heavily, tasting a strange combination of sweetness and deer meat. Turning my head, I spat out the chunk of meat, confused. I didn’t know how I could have been tired enough to fall asleep on that uncomfortable chair, especially while I was eating.

Ridiculous.

And how had I gotten on my back? I blinked again, cool awareness somewhat dissipating the fog in my head. Trees stretched tall and intertwined many meters above me. Beyond them, the sky glowed the blue of late afternoon. The pain in my right arm had returned somewhat, but it was more of an insistent throb than the stabbing agony of before. All I heard was birds singing and an unidentifiable creaking and whispering. The leaves overhead shook back and forth in the breeze. That had to be the whispering.

I pushed myself up, having to roll a bit to the side in order to do so with one hand. New confusion arrived, bringing sudden fear. I was alone. All I could see were countless trees, brush and saplings, forest flowers, and small, rocky hills. I saw no sign of the Wanderers and no sign of their camp.

Gaining my feet, I looked closer. They may have carried me off somewhere away from their camp, hoping I couldn’t find my way back. I took a somewhat shaky step, kicking something. I bent to investigate, shaking my head to finish clearing it. A pile consisting of my zip and a small pouch. I looked around again.

As I turned in place, I felt an eerie sense of familiarity. That rocky mound and that particularly fat pine tree—I’d seen them before. Grabbing my zip and the pouch, I hurriedly walked to the other side of the mound and stepped back from it a few paces. Yes. That was the pile of rocks we’d come around on our final approach to the Hawk triune’s campsite. I headed back to where I’d woken up. This was the campsite. Right here.

But the Wanderers were gone. I walked in a slow circle where I was sure the campsite had been. Fear that I’d dreamt the entire encounter and confusion welled up in me. The cast on my arm proved they had been real. Wendy had really been there. Mat, too, along with the others.

Now there was no sign of them. The campsite had been fairly big, and there had been at least five of those amazing tents. And a fire pit. All that I saw now was a clearing populated by moss-covered rocks, small brush, and one or two saplings as tall as me. Old, brown and yellow leaves, from the previous fall, I guessed, littered the ground haphazardly along with dry twigs here and there.

This was completely impossible. There had to be a sign of them somewhere.

I estimated where the fire had been, cleared the ground of leaves, and then dug somewhat with my heel. Just dry dirt with moist, dark earth under it. I dropped to my knees and grabbed a thick nearby twig. Using the twig, I dug a few inches deep. Nothing.

I moved a few feet to the left and did the same thing, desperation filling me. How could they have left me? How could they have gone without leaving any sign of their presence and without taking me with them? Why would they do that?

This time I found it. About ten centimeters down, the twig cut through a layer of gray stuff. I brought the twig up to eye level. Ash. I wasn’t going crazy. I dropped the twig and filled in the small hole, standing quickly. I grabbed the nearest sapling and tugged hard with my left arm. This sent twinges of pain from my right arm into my neck, so I stopped. But the small tree hadn’t budged.

I remembered Gabe saying that they made sure they never left any evidence of where they’d been or were going since the Ranjers could follow even the smallest of trails. I hadn’t imagined that they could completely eradicate all signs of their existence, disappearing like fog in the hot sun. And I hadn’t expected to be the one they were hiding from.

Bitter anger, tasting of the sweet drink I’d been given, tied my stomach into a knot. They’d said they would help me.

It didn’t matter. I was alone again. If the Wanderers were so good that Ranjers, who sounded somehow meaner than Enforsers, couldn’t find them, there was no way I would, either. The briefly glimpsed life of freedom had disappeared. Just great. Now I had nowhere to go. They’d said the Bug was gone, and I had to believe them. None of them wore a Papa. They wore brown and green clothes, whatever they wanted, I guessed, ate whatever they wanted, and did anything they liked. They ate real meat, lived free of the constant monitoring of the New Chapter, and—

I dropped to the ground, my chest tight. And they hadn’t wanted me along. They had left me even though they knew I needed help. When Wendy had been so kind, and Mat as well, I’d thought it was over. For a few minutes, I’d thought I was done, that I’d found a new home. I knew my parents might have missed me, but living as a Wanderer would have been better than going back to New Frisko and letting them kill me.

The Bug was definitely gone. Or it was somehow just in the air around the New Chapter cities.

That was dumb. It had to be gone. That made sense, but the only problem was Bren.

I forced myself to run through what had happened—yes, that was only last night. I’d lived, proving the Bug was gone. The Pushers had left, and then Bren had pushed and seemed okay. But the Bug got him.

The Bug got him. It got my best friend, but not me.

Tears blurred my vision, my chest squeezing tight so I had trouble breathing.

And now I was alone. Again. I’d somehow killed my friend, and now I was in the middle of nowhere with a broken arm.

The forest said nothing as the guilt swept over me. I’d never see him again. The storm that had threatened every time I thought of Bren’s last moments finally broke. I cried. I felt the tears run down my cheeks, hot like the molten grief inside. I’d done it. It was my fault. His family would blame me. And they should. I wanted to break something, break myself. Go back and tell yesterday’s me not to do it. Not to Push.

I bent forward and clenched the side of my head with my good hand. They
should
blame me. It was my fault.

A few minutes later, I sat up and scrubbed my cheeks, grateful for the solitude. I was such a baby. Fifteen years old and crying in the middle of the forest. I sucked in a slow breath, held it for a moment, and then let it go. My chest cavity felt carved, cleaned out. Scraped raw. But cleaned out.

Bren had died of the Bug. It was my fault, but it couldn’t be entirely my fault. Because the Bug was gone. The Papa-less Wanderers were proof of that. I had to figure out what had happened. I needed to know why my friend had died when both the Wanderers and I were still alive.

I had to go back to New Frisko.

But for a moment, I wanted to sit in the stillness, letting the peaceful noises of the forest wash over me. Some kind of tapping or knocking sounded from high above and some distance away. I wondered briefly what made that noise. 

I sat up straight, straining my ears. This new noise sounded different, had a different pitch to it. Man-made. I pushed to my feet. It was like the sound of propulsion units, but muffled.

It had to be Ranjers or Enforsers. Had they seen the Wanderers’ smoke, too? If so, what had taken them so long? Not that it mattered. I would never find out what had happened to Bren if I let myself get captured. Holding the pouch, which I suddenly wanted to open, I threaded my stiff right arm through the zip and then struggled the rest of the way into it, already jogging away from the campsite.

I needed to get back to the CyJet. But I also had to avoid the Ranjers. They would be looking for a big group, probably a triune, not a single person. But Gabe had said that the Ranjers could follow even the smallest of trails. I glanced behind me, unable to detect a trail. I guessed I should try not to leave broken leaves or twigs behind me.

I debated whether to try finding a hiding place or just make it back to the CyJet and try to get away before they could catch me.

Hiding seemed like a dangerous risk. With painkiller blurring the injuries of the night before, I felt strong again, albeit pretty stiff still. If I could stay out of sight and get to the CyJet fast enough, I could be long gone before the Ranjers followed my trail. And then I could go back to New Frisko and figure out what had killed Bren.

I broke into a run, dodging trees and hopping over low bushes. For a minute or so I jogged along a shallow ravine that seemed to be all that was left of an old stream. Rocks, leaves, and spindly brush coated the floor of the ravine.

The whine of the vehicle grew louder as it approached the abandoned campsite. I had to move faster. I turned left, hoping to take a straight shot toward the CyJet.

I rounded a tight group of pines and had to grab a tree to help me stop.

Movement ahead of me. I ducked behind the tree I was holding and craned to see. Phantoms in mottled green and brown uniforms emerged from the forest, appearing to somehow float. They wore masks with dark lenses. They carried guns like I’d never seen, with multiple short barrels, very short handles in the back, and metal painted to match their uniforms.

And they were all coming toward me.

Wishing I weren’t so stupid, I realized my mistake. The Ranjers knew what they were doing. They knew any Wanderer would hear the vehicle, so they had set up this ambush hoping to herd the Wanderers into the arms of this group. But the Wanderers were long gone. And I was the one being herded.

I wanted to stop and figure out why the Ranjers had taken so long if they had seen the smoke. Something about their strange delay tickled the back of my mind. But I had to get out of there, had to get to the CyJet.

Scanning the area, it became clear that the eight or so Ranjers ahead of me had been doing this for a long time. They were fanning out, but they hadn’t yet circled around me. I guessed that the ones in the vehicle I’d heard were probably on the ground by now and were coming my way. I had to move.

Staying low, I squirmed backward, hoping to keep the trees between me and the Ranjers. The cast on my right arm got in the way, but I was able to make slow progress. After about five meters of this, I felt my feet start to dip downward.

The ravine! The plan came to me in the space of a blink.

I scooted farther backward. As I started going downhill, gravity helped me. Gaining the bottom of the dry streambed, I took off, bent low in a crouch. My feet told me that under the layer of dirt and leaves, there were rounded rocks lining the path. I would need to be careful or I’d twist an ankle. That would be a bad idea.

I hoped the ravine went a ways. If I could get beyond the line of the Ranjers, I could circle back around toward the CyJet. As I scampered down the ravine, gratitude at Wendy’s painkiller filled me. Moving didn’t make me want to scream in agony. And the sudden nap, combined with the long rest I’d gotten earlier, had renewed my energy a lot. I didn’t feel great, but I did feel like I could manage.

Thinking of Wendy reminded me of the pouch I still gripped in my left hand. I continued jogging in kind of a rough lope, pulled the drawstring on the pouch open, transferred it to my right hand, and rummaged around in the bag. The first thing I found was a small, orange container with a top that looked like it snapped on. Some large pills rattled around in the container. That must be painkillers. Next I found a few small, silvery packets. I pulled one out. Blocky black print on it said EMERGENCY RATIONS: Just Add Water.

Nice. It was probably protein paste. I thought that might be all there was in the pouch, but when I put the silvery packet back, my fingers brushed something that crinkled. I pulled this out and was surprised to see it was paper. Wood fiber paper had been banned in the New Chapter since its beginning.

The paper was folded small. I stopped, grateful for the chance to catch my breath. I dropped to my knees, instantly regretting it. The rocks did not feel good.

I unfolded the paper.

“I’m sorry.”

The hair on my neck stood up, tingles crawling down my spine. Sorry for what?

The handwriting was nearly illegible. I had to give the last couple of lines a few tries before I decoded them.

“Don’t take the painkillers one’s a tracker.”

Shock paralyzed me for a second. What had they done?

“Theyre scared the Enforcers will come after you. Sorry Wendy.” She had spelled plenty wrong, but I got the message, despite the obsolete Cs. Now my sudden nap made sense. They had drugged me. And the Ranjers—the Wanderers had set this whole thing up. A sour taste filled my mouth. I swore.

Unbelievable. The festering, buggy pieces of Infektion had not only abandoned me, but they’d also tried to deliver me right to the Ranjers.

I yanked the small container of large pills out of the pouch and flung it as far as I could into the forest. I ducked immediately but heard what sounded like the thing hitting the trunk of a tree. Good. Maybe the pills scattering would confuse the Ranjers for a minute or so. I broke into a jog, moving faster now and muttering to myself what I would do to Gabe if I ever saw him again. At least Wendy had remembered that she was a human.

There wasn’t time for this. I needed to focus on getting away.

I slowed a little and glanced to the right and left and then behind me. No sign of Ranjers. A few seconds later, I realized the banks of the ravine were getting lower and that I was going slightly downhill and turning slowly left. Fifty meters later, the ravine had disappeared and I was running along a narrow valley between two long, gradually sloping hills with forest stretching up the hills as far as I could see.

I hoped that I’d gone far enough and that the Ranjers were closing in on a pill.

I glanced behind me, and the taste of betrayal was swallowed up in sudden fear. Not more than fifty or sixty meters behind me were three Ranjers, moving fast around trees and coming right at me.

Darting up the hill to my right, I poured on the speed as much as I could, using tree trunks to help me change directions fast. I couldn’t help tossing another look behind me. My sudden burst of speed had widened the gap, but the Ranjers were coming fast. Their strange, smooth movement and completely covered faces—and those dark lenses!—gave me the feeling that they weren’t quite human. Or more than human. Were they even running? I should be able to run faster, or at least longer, than they could since I’d been Pushing for so long. I knew I could push my heart rate hard and keep going. Ranjers had to have the knockout, too, didn’t they? That was probably why I’d been able to outrun the Enforsers last night, too.

I took another long look at them. Their legs were only moving slightly, and they weren’t facing me; it was as if they were moving sideways toward me. And closing the gap. They weren’t running at all.

Go. I had to go. I tore up the hill, breath coming in ragged gasps. I needed my CyJet! Ahead of me was a particularly thick cluster of trees. I made for it, hoping it would slow the three Ranjers down, whether they decided to go through it or had to go around.

My left shoulder banged painfully into a rough trunk, but I was through the cluster and near the top of the hill. I fought the urge to check on the Ranjers.

Not stopping, I crested the hill and ran along the top for a moment, trying to get my bearings. The top of the hill ran wide and flat for quite a ways but sloped back down, although this slope was even more gentle than the one I’d come up.

If my sense of direction wasn’t betraying me, I needed to make my way left in order to make it back to the road. I thought if I could get back there, I would find the stream and then follow it to the CyJet. But for now, I stayed on the wide top of the hill. There were fewer trees here and I felt like I could make better speed.

I risked a glance backward. One Ranjer was maybe thirty meters back, and he was, at that moment, raising his weapon to point it at me. I didn’t see the other Ranjers.

I turned back and heard a loud bang, and my foot caught on a root I didn’t see. I went down painfully. But I was moving so fast that I tumbled down the hill I’d come up. I slammed against a tree trunk, luckily on my left side and hip. I cried out in sudden pain but pushed myself up and kept going. Another Ranjer was coming right at me, angling up the hill toward me and totally silent. He fired his gun.

A line of fire cut across my left shoulder, and then a thud sounded in a tree not far behind me. Not a rubber bullet. I dodged and ducked, instinct telling me to keep the trees between me and the Ranjer. The other two Ranjers had to be coming up behind me.

I was trapped. They moved so fast! And they had to know I was completely overmatched. They were either going to kill me here in the middle of nowhere or take me back to New Frisko.

No.

I poured on some speed, angling to try to get in front of the Ranjer that was coming up the hill. Whatever he was using, or riding, that helped him move so smoothly seemed to go slower up the hill. Shoving the pouch I’d been given into the left pocket of my zip, I made as if to turn back up the hill, still keeping trees between me and the Ranjer who was maybe eight meters back now.

I grabbed a low branch and used it to help me turn quickly. I hoped my sudden change in direction had thrown off the Ranjer’s shot. Because I launched myself directly at him.

He must have been surprised because he still had his gun high even as I hit him low, right at the knees. My head banged painfully against some kind of armor he wore on his calf, but I heard him grunt as he hit the ground. The weapon clattered against a tree trunk a meter away.

I flung myself to my feet and aimed kick at his face. But the guy wasn’t moving. His back was angled against the bottom of a tree. He must have been knocked out cold. Triumph lasted maybe a second.

A shout. Another Ranjer hurtled down the hill, maybe twenty meters away. I looked toward the unconscious Ranjer’s feet. He wore boots that were attached to a strange-looking device. It was maybe a meter long, flat on the top, and had small propulsion units bristling all along the bottom of it. Somehow those units were completely silent when they were running, making the Ranjers even creepier. The middle of the board-like thing was articulated. It was some kind of hover board that attached to the Ranjer’s boots. I wanted to take it, but wasn’t sure I’d be able to use it without the boots. No time. I spun and took off again.

Another loud bang echoed among the trees, a huge divot exploding out of a tree trunk to my right.

Definitely not rubber bullets.

That trick wouldn’t work again. I just had to keep moving, see if I could find some way to outdistance these guys. If I could get out of their line of sight, I might be able to hide.

Not much chance of that. All around me was low, slow hills and trees. The trees clustered here and there but were widely spaced in other areas. And I couldn’t keep this up for long. The Ranjers didn’t have to expend much energy with those hover board things, but I was already having trouble catching my breath. And my heart felt like it was trying to escape through my throat.

I had to get out of sight. For a few seconds at least. I had to slow them down somehow, try to get away from these two before the others caught up. Up the hill. They were slower going up hills. The thought had barely formed, and I was already dashing up the nearest hill. I wished the slope were steeper; that would slow them down.

That was it. I had to find the steepest hill. That would be my only chance. At the top of the small hill I’d come up, I scanned the forest frantically. My heart thundered in my ears. This was insane. I couldn’t keep going like this for long.

I pushed myself into a run again, trying to will a steep hill into existence. A bang, then fire along my thigh. I’d forgotten to weave around trees!

I threw myself down the hill, spotting a possible slope maybe a hundred meters away. The Ranjers couldn’t be far. I needed to move fast and dodge the bullets they were shooting.

Then another bang, followed almost immediately by an explosion about ten meters ahead of me. Smoke expanded from the brief, bright flames at an incredible rate. What had they just shot? Another bang, with the explosion sounding like a louder echo. More smoke. I dodged left, then right, then back again. Two more explosions and suddenly the entire hillside was filled with smoke. It curled around tree trunks wetly, almost like a living blanket. I caught a whiff and instantly started coughing. That wasn’t normal smoke. My eyes stung, and tears poured down my cheeks. I tried to dodge around the smoke, but it had covered everything in sight in the moment I’d slowed.

Coughs clawed through my suddenly burning throat. I heaved, losing part of my lunch to the forest floor. I didn’t remember dropping, but I was on my knees, hacking and confused. I slid to the side, blinking furiously.

My confusion thinned considerably when I realized I could see the leaves and dark earth under me pretty easily. Whatever the smoke was, it didn’t stick to the ground; it was much thinner down here. I lay on my stomach and scrabbled forward, deeper into the thick, grayish-white soup. If I couldn’t see, did that mean the Ranjers couldn’t see? I put my face on the earth, sucked in nearly fresh air, and leapt to my feet, holding my arm against my mouth and nose. I darted forward, nearly blind from the tears and pain in my eyes.

A bullet zinged past me, then another.

They saw me. Those lenses they wore must give them some way of seeing people through darkness or whatever. Maybe body heat.

I threw myself down again, sucking in fresh air. I had to do something, so I crawled to the nearest tree. They couldn’t see through trees, could they? Blinking furiously, I peered through the smoke. Two dark figures floated toward me, not five meters away. I was terrified. These guys couldn’t be stopped; those stupid masks must filter gas, too.

Had they seen me crawl behind this tree? I darted behind another tree that was an arm’s length away. Maybe another meter off was another tree. I crouched, sucked in fresher air, catching a bit of the smoke, and had to choke off violent coughs. I muffled them against my arm and slipped to the next tree, angling around it. Through the tears and haze, I saw the Ranjers float past the first tree I’d hidden behind. They kept going.

No way. It had worked!

I crouched again, careful to suck air from a couple centimeters above the dirt and leaves. My knee hit a big rock that was stuck under a root, pain flaring quickly but fading just as fast.

An idea, completely idiotic but maybe my only chance, came to me. I lifted the rock and tried to catch sight of the Ranjers again. They were moving slowly; maybe six or seven meters separated us. Better yet, there were four trees between us.