The Freedom Race, page 15
Coach B considered this for a moment, then said, “You sure you’re the ones doing the protecting? Okay, tell you what. How ’bout Pheebs an’ me take Afarra under our wing till your petition’s granted—keep an eye on her for you?”
The offer was so unexpected that Ji-ji flung her arms around him. “Thank you, Coach B!”
The veteran coach laughed—a deep vibration in his broad chest. “Don’t go thanking me till your kith-n-kin’s granted an’ she meets up with you the city.” He pulled away from her embrace, but he was still smiling, so she felt reasonably certain she hadn’t offended him.
Billy reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Here. A map.”
“The monitors give us an official race map at the start of the—”
“I know. This one’s from Dregulahmo. Covers more than the race route. If you stray from the official route, you need to find your way to Dimmers Wood. See? It’s directly southeast, on the far side of the New River.” Billy pointed to a place called Slim Pickins.
“But I’m not straying from the route. It’s dangerous to—”
“Yeah, that’s what your fly-boy told me when I gave him his copy. But sometimes things happen we don’t plan for. If they do, you meet up with him at Dimmers, understand?”
The name of the place sounded ominous, but Coach B didn’t take kindly to arguing, so she nodded her head and slipped the map into her pocket.
“An’ another thing,” Coach Billy continued. “Afarra wasn’t the only special one. Dreg called you the Triumvirate—you, her, an’ that goddam blockhead up there. But Tiro’s a blood relative so the old wizard could’ve been mistaken ’bout him. Sure looks like it this morning.… GET BACK IN THAT GODDAM HARNESS ’FORE I COME UP AND STUFF YOU INTO IT MYSELF!”
To Ji-ji’s relief, Tiro obeyed. Coach B continued as though he’d never been interrupted.
“The Necessaries was another name Dregulahmo used for you, Afarra, an’ that moron up there. Said there were wonders in store for you.”
“Did you believe Uncle Dreg when he said all that stuff?”
“I’m a skeptic. But could be you an’ Tiro got a special part to play. An’ if it’s true the server’s an ant whisperer, who knows? Always been something different ’bout that one. Not just the funny way she talks either. Something otherworldly about her, something not quite in the here-an’-now.”
Coach B threw down his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot as though he had a grudge against it. “Tell Birdbrain I’ll see him at tonight’s practice, soon as his shift in the fields is over and Zaini’s fed him—assuming he hasn’t broken every goddam bone in his body before then.”
With that, Bad Luck Billy strode over to Georgie-Porge and Orlie, grasped Orlie by his drooping shoulders, and ordered him to suck it up. Pheebs ran up and joined the group. The four left together, Orlie trailing gloomily behind the other three. Ji-ji remembered too late that she’d wanted to ask Coach B about the strange things Lua had told her before she died. Maybe Tiro could figure out what Lua had been talking about?
Marcus plopped into the net soon afterward, unhitched himself from his harness, and strutted over to Ji-ji. It wasn’t clear if Tiro had defeated him or if he’d simply called it quits.
As muscular as Tiro, Marcus was a year older than he was. Old Shadowy spoiled him. Apart from the slight swagger in his walk, however, he didn’t rub it in your face. You’d never suspect he could get mating permission slips whenever he wanted, go on errander trips to nearby plantings, and watch any show he fancied on Old Shadowy’s homescreen. He was tutored by Old Shadowy herself, which was why he was the most educated juvi on the planting. Marcus had always been kind to Ji-ji. Sometimes he reminded her of Clay, her older brother. Marcus knew how unlikely it was he would be selected for the Freedom Race ahead of Tiro. Like Georgie-Porge and Orlie, he was betting Tiro would keep his word and file a kith-n-kin for him.
“The Pterodactyl’s in a foul mood this morning,” Marcus complained, rubbing his shoulder and using the nickname he’d given Tiro the first time he saw him fly. “Can’t be ratified soon enough far as I’m concerned. If he messes up this gorgeous face, my future as a stud is shot.”
Marcus turned to head out, took a few strides, then turned back. He swept Ji-ji up in his arms and gave her a brotherly bear hug. “You’re too good for that crazy fly-boy—y’know that?” he said.
“How come you’re saying goodbye now?” she asked. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’ll be rushed off your feet. Won’t have time for a humble little fly-boy like me. You take care of yourself in The Margins, okay?”
“Could be Lotter won’t ratify me.”
“Sure he will. Emmeline says it’s a done deal. She’s warned Lotter if he doesn’t ratify you both, calamity will fall on the planting. They listen to Old Shadowy—most of the time anyway. Some of the steaders think if they’d listened to her warnings about Dregulahmo they wouldn’t have lost Herring. ’Sides, no one’s faster’n you. Remember—don’t stray from the race route. It’s guarded from Salem to Monticello—most of the final leg too. But pickers have the right to harvest any stray seeds they find. Pickers’re sly bastards. Hunt in packs. Worse than Bounty Boys. If it’s anything like last year, they’ll try to lure runners off the race route. Don’t be fooled. Oh—almost forgot. Tell your fly-boy up there not to forget the little people—though if Orlie’s kith-n-kin is mislaid, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Ji-ji laughed. Marcus gave her a wistful smile and sauntered off.
Ji-ji sat for a moment in an effort to gather her thoughts after Billy’s revelation about Silapu. Like Coach B, her mam had chosen captivity over Freedom—chosen it for her sake. Whatever it cost, she would find Bonbon and reunite the two. She owed her that.
She was about to shout up to Tiro and ask him to come down from the nest when she got an unsettling sense of déjà vu. He sat perched on the edge of the Jimmy Crow way up at the very top of the cage, just like he did after Amadee was killed. He was in pain, she knew that, but there was something crazed in the way he tore around the cage. For once in her life she hadn’t been worried enough—chatting with Coach B like they had all the time in the world! She had to climb up the Jacob’s Ladders and go to him—now! She rushed to a ladder and began to climb.
Ji-ji scanned the coop to make sure no one had entered. The planting’s Elevation Prohibitions against female botanicals were rigorously enforced: no climbing above twelve feet unless it was to clean something; no venturing up mountains (not that there were any to speak of on the planting, all of them being beyond the fry-fence); no ascending into the toll-bell turret; no looking out of windows on the upper floors of father-houses; no heels even.… She devised a plan. If anyone caught her she would claim Tiro’s harness was caught and she’d climbed up to give him a hand. Was he still wearing a harness? She glanced over at him as she climbed, but he was sitting in shadow and she couldn’t tell for sure.
Afraid of startling him, she called out his name as she crossed the narrow walkway leading to the nest. Without turning around he said, “Climbing up here is way too risky.” It was fairly bright by now, with light streaming through the sky flaps above them. Tiro’s eyes looked bloodshot when he swiveled round to face her. He swiped his forearm across his face and Ji-ji realized he’d been crying. At least he was wearing a safety harness. She relaxed a little.
Quickly, she clambered into the nest and stood inside it. Without a harness of her own she didn’t dare join him on the rim. She told him what she had been burning to tell him for weeks.
“That’s great,” he said, after she’d finished. “Can’t believe Charra’s alive.”
The way he said it emphasized how far away he was. Maybe he was anxious about ratification? Ji-ji explained that her mam had decided to help them.
“You hear me? Mam is sure Lotter’s gonna ratify—”
“Ji, I got something real bad to tell you.” He joined her inside the basket. “Last night, Mother an’ me…” He stood there searching for words.
“It’s okay. Coach B told me what they did to Uncle Dreg. They should never have—”
“No, not that,” he said, looking away. “Something worse. Been sitting up here trying to figure out how to tell you.”
“You’re scaring me. What is it?”
“There’s a parrot among us … someone we know. This parrot betrayed Uncle Dreg to the steaders. S’why Uncle Dreg got lynched.…”
Parrots received no mercy on a planting. They were usually found dead—dragged up from Blueglass Lake, a necklace of bloody feathers looped around their necks.
“Who is he? It’s not one of your fly-buddies, is it?”
“It’s not a he.” Tiro paused. His eyes were so sad she was scared they would slice her in two. His mouth did it instead.
“Ji … the parrot.… It’s your mam.”
10 UNFORGIVABLE
Ji-ji scrambled out of the nest and tore back across the narrow walkway. Tiro pleaded with her to slow down. She barely heard him over the storm raging in her head.
Her mam, a walking corpse ever since Bonbon’s snatching, had finally woken up. And for what? If seeds believed she’d parroted to steaders—or even worse, believed she had betrayed Uncle Dreg—she was doomed! It was all some crazy mistake! Must be.… Seeds had another name for a parrot: an Unforgivable—fusing the seed who betrayed them to the act of betrayal cos the sin was so terrible you couldn’t separate the two. Silapu had betrayed the wizard who’d made a beautiful cradle for her and made the Cradle beautiful for everyone else.… Tiro had it all wrong! She refused to believe her mam was capable of doing something as evil as that.
Ji-ji didn’t remember climbing down Jacob’s Ladders, didn’t remember how she reached the ground without breaking her neck, didn’t remember how she wound up in Tiro’s arms, with him saying over and over, “I got you. It’ll be okay,” when they both knew he hadn’t and it wouldn’t.
She tried to pull herself away. He wouldn’t let her go. He urged her to keep it down.
“Why?” she sobbed. “You worried there could be a fucking p-parrot around?”
He told her he hadn’t wanted to believe it either, that he knew how devastating it was.
She wrenched herself away from him. In her frenzy, she tripped on the end of a hope-rope and fell backward onto the sawdust floor, crashing into the low wall encircling the ground ring. Tiro attempted to break her fall, but she went down too fast even for him. He bent over her.
“You okay, Ji? You hurt?”
She was shaking so badly it was hard to speak. “My b-back!”
Pain welled up her spine; its roots fanned out to her shoulders. The burning sensation was buried deep beneath the skin, like an old injury come back to haunt her. She knew exactly what it was. At the worst possible time, she’d reinjured herself in exactly the same place as before.
Tiro asked if he could take a look. By this time, Ji-ji couldn’t hold back her tears.
Gently, he eased her to a sitting position. She wasn’t wearing a bra under her shirt because, apart from the bra she shared with her mam, she only had one other, and she’d washed it last night in readiness for tomorrow’s Last Supper. As Tiro raised her shirt, his breath caught in his throat.
“Looks bad, Ji. Like your back an’ shoulders got hammered. Should’ve caught you.”
“It’s done now,” Ji-ji said. “It’s over.”
Ji-ji tugged at her shirt to lower it again. They sat together on the sawdust, shell-shocked. She glanced at Tiro. Looked like he was on the verge of tears too. She felt a surge of pity for him.
“It’s easing up some,” she offered, in an effort to lessen his anxiety.
Tiro looked absurdly relieved, then suspicious. “You lying to me, Ji?”
“No. It does feel better.” A partial truth. The burning had been replaced by a dull throbbing.
“Okay if I take another look?”
She shrugged, her unimpressive boobs being the least of her worries right now. Tiro raised her shirt again and studied her back for several seconds.
“What’s it look like?”
“Don’t make sense. It’s almost like … like it’s healing itself. Don’t get me wrong, you’re all banged up, but it’s a lot better than a few moments ago.”
“Could be it’s like hives or something,” Ji-ji offered, feeling a small measure of relief. “You know how bad they can look. Then they disappear.”
“Don’t look like hives to me,” Tiro replied, but he sounded less worried than before.
Ji-ji pulled her shirt down, grateful to be able to do it on her own this time. Moving cautiously, she turned round to face him.
“How’s it feel when you move?” he asked.
“Sore,” she answered honestly. “But not as bad as I thought it would feel.”
He asked her if she could walk or if she wanted him to carry her over to the bench. She insisted she could make it under her own steam as long as he helped her up.
A few seconds later, they were seated side by side on the coach’s bench.
Tiro wound his arm lightly around her waist to keep her steady. “Swelling’s nasty,” he said. “You gotta get ice on it fast. Doc Riff should take a look. If you don’t take care of an injury like that it’ll get tons worse tomorrow.”
Ji-ji wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. “Tell me about Mam.”
As quickly as he could, Tiro described how kitchen-seeds Dip and Sloppy came to his mother’s cabin last night to tell them what they knew. They would have come earlier, they said, only the prohibitions made unauthorized travel between homesteads too dangerous. The two said they’d overheard Silapu parroting to Lotter at his father-house a few weeks ago. Said Sila told Lotter she’d gone to lay flowers at the little shrine seeds had made by Blueglass Lake to honor Mbeke’s mam. While there, she’d spied Uncle Dreg at around midnight, sneaking about with someone else. Sila swore she didn’t know who the other male was because it was dark and she couldn’t get a good look. All she could say for certain was that he had a beard, and the two men addressed each other as “Friend.” Lotter had railed at Silapu when she couldn’t identify the other traitor. Dip said Lotter shoved Sila across the room, but Sloppy said it sounded like he’d just dropped something. Ji-ji shuddered—didn’t dare tell Tiro that she’d seen her mam’s badly bruised arm around the time Uncle Dreg was hauled off to PenPen. When she’d asked her how she got it, her mam had made up some lame excuse about tripping at the textile factory.
Dip and Sloppy claimed to have eavesdropped through the vent in Lotter’s kitchen at his father-house. At that time, Lotter was still First Father-Man, living on Homestead 1. Their story was plausible. Ji-ji had eavesdropped at that same vent in the past. Lotter hadn’t known Dip and Sloppy were nearby. They’d only returned to his father-house after completing their cleaning shift because they’d forgotten to empty the trash. Fearful of a whipping, the two kitchen-seeds had hurried back to do so.
“Still doesn’t make sense. Mam hates Lotter. Besides, what would Uncle Dreg be doing at Blueglass Lake?”
Tiro got a strange look on his face. “That’s just it. Remember I told you he took the fall for me? I was the one s’posed to meet up with the Friend at Blueglass.… Uncle Dreg went in my place.”
Ji-ji’s heart fell as Tiro described how he had received a note from someone who’d identified himself as 9-0-2, who said he had to meet with Tiro urgently.
“Seemed legit to me cos number nine’s the Friends’ password number for this season, an’ zero-two would’ve been his individual code. So I sent a confirmation to 9-0-2 over the comm.”
“What comm?”
Tiro quickly described the secret communication system the Friends of Freedom used and made her promise not to repeat what he was telling her. “That was my major screwup. We’d been warned the comm may not be safe. Uncle Dreg found out. Raked me over the coals. Told me I’d put Mother an’ the boys in danger. Then he read 9-0-2’s note an’ understood why I had to respond.”
“What could’ve been so important that you’d risk—”
“The note was about you, Ji.”
“Me? What are you talking about? I’ve never even heard of 9-0-2!”
“Well, he’d heard of you. Said you posed ‘an existential threat to the Territories.’”
“That’s nuts! Did you know what ‘existential’ meant?”
“Shit, Ji! I’m not a complete jackass … though I guess I may’ve asked Marcus what the hell it meant—without giving anything away, of course.” He attempted a smile, but she was too upset to acknowledge it. “9-0-2 said the steaders’re scared you’ll destroy ’em.”
“That’s crazy!” Then Ji-ji remembered something and added, “Charra said the same thing. Not about me, about Toteppi. Said steaders were scared of us. But why? And who is 9-0-2?”
“Wish I knew. Thing was, I’d already used the comm, so it was too late to back out. Uncle Dreg said we had to go through with a meeting. Insisted on going instead. It’s how come he met up with 9-0-2. He was gonna tell me what he’d learned, only they hauled him off to PenPen ’fore he could cos Silapu parroted. It’s weird. Your mam has always hated my guts, but I never thought she’d turn parrot. Why betray us like that?”
Ji-ji wanted to insist that her mam would never parrot to Lotter but the words stuck in her throat. She struggled to think things through logically. Sloppy could be a pain in the ass when she set her mind to it. She was a snob too—treated Afarra like dirt. But her friend Dip Spareseed was as honest as the day was long. And Dip loved Silapu because she’d spoken up for her when Dip had been demoted to Tainted status following a bout with syphilis. Dip was eternally grateful to Silapu for persuading Lotter to obtain a position for her as a kitchen-seed in spite of her spoilage. No, Ji-ji thought. Dip would never lie about this. She loves Mam too much.
Ji-ji couldn’t deny it any longer. “The other seeds’ll kill Mam if they find out.”
