The Freedom Race, page 25
“She was pyred in secret, nine months before you were born. Only Lotter, Casper, and me as witnesses. Lotter wanted to tame me. He seethed with envy. He made me watch her go up in flames. I tell you this so you know what evil is and how it can be clothed in the robes of angels. His love is a lynch rope. He uses it to reel you in just before he chokes you. Do not let him catch you, understand? It will be terrible if you do. Even in Dream City you will not be safe. Arundale Lotter is the Butcher of Dreams, and he has long tentacles.”
“Don’t worry, Mam. I know what a bastard he is.”
“One more thing. This woman who loved me more in a few nights than that devil has loved me in twenty years, this woman was called Elly. But the name her grandmother gave her was—”
Ji-ji was suddenly walking on the same story-path as her mother: “Jellybean! You named me after your best friend.”
“No, Jellybean. I named you after my one true love.”
Ji-ji forgot the rain, almost forgot the fence. “But you always told me you chose that name because you liked jellybeans.”
“Only a fool would believe such crap, is it not so? I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my Elly come back to me—that her spirit had slipped into my womb when Lotter violated me that same evening only two hours after he pyred Elly … when he thrust himself into me while I could still smell her melting flesh and hear her screams. I knew each time he said your warrior name he would be invoking her without knowing it.
“You are my warrior child, Jellybean. Whatever happens, never forget that. Charra was brave, yes. But she was not a Try-Again like you. Her temper would flare, and she would burn too hot and too fast, then turn bitter in defeat and wither—like me. You and Elly burn slow.” She poked her daughter’s chest where the seed symbol was and nodded. “A fire inside others cannot put out. You will burn steady for a long, long time.”
“It’s not true, Mam. I’m not brave like your Elly. I’m terrified.”
“Of course you are terrified! And you are here by the fry-fence. Courage without fear is what cowards possess. It is not real so they rely on props. The greenshirts have their guns and zap sticks and grenades; Lotter has his security guards and his fry-fence, yes?”
Silapu tapped her chest while she spoke, her open palm hitting her seed symbol. She used to tell her offspring it was a stroke of evil genius when the steaders herded seeds into different categories and made them sew swatches of fabric onto their clothing. The black-and-white seed symbol for Muleseeds like Ji-ji and her siblings, the solid black one for Tribalseeds like her and Uncle Dreg, the dark brown ones for Commonseeds like Dip and Sloppy, and the broken symbols for outcasts. All these stupid symbols, she said, were designed to sow discontent and fuel resentment. Apart from Serverseeds, all the seeds had three tiny cloth “tears” falling from the symbol to indicate their role as breeders. Serverseeds didn’t have any tears falling from their broken seed because cropmasters could have their Cloths neutered or spayed at puberty, depending on how bad the labor shortage was. The ugly symbols, Silapu used to say, are the steaders’ way of driving stakes through our hearts.
In the past, seeing her mam tap her symbol would have made Ji-ji feel a powerless rage. But tonight, as the two women crouched there, they didn’t look like seeds nailed to a lower rung by steaders’ symbols; they looked like warriors.
“I do not know if Dregulahmo was right about you, Ji-ji,” her mam continued. “The Oz said many things, and his words were filled with overdreaming. But I know you and that is enough.”
Ji-ji wanted to ask her what exactly Uncle Dreg had said, but before she could, her mam started speaking again.
“You and Elly cannot easily be extinguished. Four times I tried to end you before you—”
“End me? What do you mean?”
“Four times you escaped. My beloved had been pyred. He’d made me watch, and that was why I was determined not to let his demon seed put down roots in my belly.… But you were never his, not really. Four times you refused to die. Elly’s spirit had come to me again.”
“I lied,” Donna announced out of the blue. “My four deadborns were liveborns all. Couldn’t let ’em live in captivity. Pastor Gillyman would say it’s eternal hell for me, which is how come I never told the old fart. Never told a soul ’cept Sloppy. An’ now I’m telling you. Cos we’re here at the fry-fence an’ if things don’t pan out this may be our last conversation. Plan to penance myself with four orphans over on the Freedom side. Plan to raise ’em as my own. Me an’ Delilah. Two mams. Figure God is sure to forgive me if I do that—assuming he’s more reasonable than steaders.”
They were silent for a while as they digested what their friend had told them. Then Ji-ji said something she’d wanted to say ever since she’d discovered her mam wasn’t a traitor after all.
“Coach B told me you had a chance to escape with Oletto. He said you refused to run without me. I’m grateful, Mam … real grateful you didn’t leave me behind.”
“I knew what Lotter would do to you. He would want me to suffer greatly, so he would never grant my petition for your Freedom. He is a vengeful, petty man filled with passions he cannot control. If his face told his story, he would be a monster.”
Ji-ji took a chance and posed her next question. “Mam, is it true you went missing? I remember one time we stayed with Auntie Zaini—me, an’ Charra, an’ Clay, right?”
As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Ji-ji knew she’d made a terrible mistake. Silapu stiffened, became agitated. She looked around fearfully and pulled on her fingers.
“How dare you ask me that!” she cried, as the sky opened up to more rain. “You think I want to remember those violations?” (Precipitation, violation.) “You think I don’t remember the butchery? Don’t smell that slaughterhouse? You think I don’t see them in my dreams?”
“I’m sorry, Mam! It’s okay. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Silapu began to sob—great, heaving sobs that looked like they ripped her apart. She pulled at her shift and scooted back from the refuge of the rhododendron. The guards would see her if she didn’t take cover! She had to calm down!
A voice came at them through a curtain of rain. Lucky had crept back. He startled them. For a split second, Ji-ji thought Lotter had found them.
“Didn’t you hear me calling?” he asked. Then he saw Silapu. “What the hell’s up with her?”
“Nothing,” Donna said. “She’s fine. Right, Ji-ji?”
“Yes, Mam’s fine. Just scared is all.”
Ji-ji placed a hand on her mam’s arm. Silapu looked from Ji-ji to Donna to Lucky and seemed to remember where she was. Abruptly, she stopped sobbing and said, “I’m ready.”
Lucky didn’t look convinced, but there was no time to argue. “Okay,” he said. “It’s now or never.”
“Is it alive?” Ji-ji asked.
Lucky realized what she was referring to. “No. Fence is dead. But not for long. Follow me!”
* * *
Lucky flung his duffel bag on the ground and pulled out some strange devices. Hurriedly, he strapped the clawlike contraptions to his hands and slipped soles of tiny hooked spikes onto his feet. He grabbed a fancy rope ladder too, and some tarpaulin.
“Wait here close to the fence while I climb over,” he said. “Got to secure the ladder and lay the tarpaulin over the barbed wire. It’s sharp as hell. Jellybean, you climb next when I tell you. Fence could go live at any minute. Sila, you and Dip—”
“Donna.”
“Jesus! Like it even matters. You steady the ladder while Jellybean climbs. I can loop it over the spikes at the top but you hold it steady down below.”
“You sure the bastard’s dead?” Donna asked, putting her ear close to the fence. “I think he’s still humming.”
Lucky slapped his hand up against the fence. “See. Satisfied?”
And then he was climbing, his duffel bag looped crosswise over his shoulder and chest so his hands were Free, his hooked feet and clawed hands allowing him to move swiftly up the fence. At the top, he laid the thick tarpaulin over the barbed wire and carefully climbed over it.
Ji-ji glanced over at her mam, who was on the verge of panic, pacing back and forth and wringing her hands. Why had she asked her that stupid question? She pulled Silapu away from the fence so Lucky couldn’t hear them and asked her point blank if she’d taken something. Silapu shook her head. Ji-ji didn’t have time to inquire further. Even with the rope ladder, the climb would be tricky in the rain. Ji-ji pulled her mam back to the fence and told her to stay close.
Lucky had looped the rope ladder over the fence, taking advantage of a small gap in the barbed wire. Ji-ji feared he would be immediately attacked by snarlcats and stripers like the steaders always threatened. Turned out, that was another steader lie. On the planting side, the ladder was about three feet off the ground, but on the other side the distance was double that—five or six feet. Numbers lining up to defeat them again. Lucky said he’d be down there on the other side to help them leap the last few feet. The rain intensified. It was becoming harder to hear each other.
Lucky leaned in close to the fence and ordered Ji-ji to climb. She was about to mount the first rung when she realized something. She let go of the ladder.
“You climb first, Donna,” she said. “Quick!”
Lucky overheard her. “She climbs last.”
Ji-ji drew closer to the fence. Lucky did the same. They were inches away from each other. Nearly a foot taller than she was, Lucky looked down on her through the mesh. His mouth twitched with anger. She caught a glimpse of the gap in his beard where she’d tried to slash his throat.
“I don’t trust you!” Ji-ji told him. “You lied to us for years! Donna’s my friend. She goes first. Then you can’t trick us an’ leave her behind.”
“S’okay, honey,” Donna’s voice came to them through the rain. “I don’t need to go first.”
Ji-ji stared at Lucky; Lucky stared at her. “She goes first,” Ji-ji insisted. A standoff. Her heart raced, but she wouldn’t let him see how scared she was.
After a few more seconds he said, “Fuck it. What do I care? If the bloody fence goes live after the Tainted hauls her arse over it, don’t blame me.”
It didn’t take long for Ji-ji to realize that Lucky had a point. Donna’s climb was excruciatingly slow. After she huffed and puffed her way up, squeals of terror accompanied her way down. It seemed to take an age before she leapt the final half dozen feet to the ground. To Ji-ji’s surprise, Lucky stepped forward to break her fall. They both tumbled into the mud, but neither one got hurt.
As soon as Donna righted herself she let out a breathless whoop and waved goodbye to the 437th. “Ain’t been on the Freedom side of the fence since they trucked me here. No mutants around either. Guess that crap ’bout ants was lies too. Wait till Slop hears about this. Won’t need to petition for me now!”
Donna must know Sloppy better than she let on, Ji-ji thought. Must’ve figured she couldn’t rely on Slop, even if she made it to the city, to petition for her, which meant she had no choice but to run. No wonder she’d begged Mam to let her come too.
“Your turn, Mam,” Ji-ji said.
“You’re joking!” Lucky exclaimed.
Silapu protested even more than Lucky did, insisting Ji-ji go first.
“No, Mam. You’re going first.” If anything, Ji-ji trusted her mam’s word even less than she trusted Lucky’s. Silapu knew Lotter wouldn’t rest till he captured her again. If she was the last to ascend, the temptation to stay behind so Ji-ji could be safer could prove too great for her to resist.
“Who will hold the ladder when you reach the other side?” Silapu asked her.
“It won’t need holding. I can climb real well, Mam. You know that. ’Sides, Lucky doesn’t get paid if I don’t make it to Salem. We’re wasting time. You go first, Mam. If you stay, I stay.”
Silapu hesitated. Lucky warned them if they didn’t make up their bloody minds he’d leave them both to rot on the prison side.
“You got to do this!” Ji-ji cried. “We’ll run side by side in the race. You’re fast—you know you are. I can’t do this without you.”
When Silapu grabbed hold of the rope ladder, Ji-ji wanted to weep with relief. She’d stared down the young fairskin and won. Twice. Stared her mam down too. She wouldn’t have to do this alone. They would all run together.
Even in a drugged state, Silapu was more athletic than Donna. She reached the top of the fry-fence in seconds.
“See?” Ji-ji said to Lucky as he waited on the other side. “I told you she’d do okay. I’m starting up now. I’m right behind you, Mam,” she called.
Silapu had one leg over the tarpaulin at the top of the fence when a voice boomed out through the darkness and jerked back the leash.
“GET DOWN NOW, BITCH, OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL SHOOT!”
A stocky figure emerged from the shadows. Baggy carpenter pants, a shirt with the tail hanging out, and a safari hat perched at a jaunty, partyfied angle on its head. Its face got paler as it ambled toward them—gun drawn, a lamp slung round its waist.
Ji-ji’s knees almost went out from under her when saw who the clothes were wearing. She’d served it alcohol at the Last Supper. It must’ve kept partying cos it was rip-roaring drunk.
“How you doing, Mammy Tep? Lotter’ll be real disappointed. But then betrayal runs in the family. Felt betrayed myself when your whelp flew the coop. Lotter’s had it out for me ever since. I blame you for that shit.”
Danfrith Petrus stood before them, his gun pointed at Sila as she straddled the fence.
(Danfrith, Ji-ji thought. The D we forgot.)
“You two sluts want to know what I’m doing here?”
(He doesn’t know about Lucky and Donna, doesn’t know Lucky has a gun.)
“Promised the cropmaster I’d replace the runaway traps after that freaky biped ant uprooted the damn things like they were dandy … dandlylions,” he slurred. “Lotter likes things done in a timely manner. Didn’t want a fine, so I came out here to replant ’em.… What do I find? The great escape that wasn’t.” Petrus roared with laughter. “This’ll make up for that ungrateful bitch Charra running off like that.”
Silapu must have leapt the last ten feet because suddenly she was down beside her daughter.
She pushed Ji-ji behind her and hissed, “Climb when I give you the signal! Climb the fence!” But Ji-ji had no intention of leaving her mam on the prison side, not when the cavalry was a few feet away. Time contracted into a single point—the whole world balanced on the here and now.
As Petrus moves in closer, the lantern hanging from his belt allows her to see his vicious face. He’s wearing those obscene work boots—the ones on PrettyBlack’s coffin box.
“You hurt Mam and I’ll kill you,” Ji-ji warns. “So will Lotter.”
Danfrith Petrus steps forward, wavers a little, steadies himself, and orders them not to move a fucking muscle—only he gets tied up on the word muscle, which makes him madder than ever.
Ji-ji thinks as fast as fear will let her. Why hasn’t Lucky shot him? Doesn’t he know Petrus hasn’t seen him yet? Realization dawns: Lucky can’t shoot cos she and her mam are in the way. He’s crouching behind them on the Freedom side of the fence—must be. They need to help him get a clean shot without alerting Petrus. Petrus has to take a step back so the angle is right for the kill.
Petrus stands at arm’s length from his prey. He reaches out and draws a circle around Silapu’s nipple with the barrel of his gun. She’s drenched; her blouse clings to her body. “You’ve always gotten on my nerves with your fancy airs. Can’t wait to watch you burn. May get me a little taste first, though. Yeah.… I can see why Lotter’s nuts about his fudge delight.”
“Okay,” Ji-ji says. “You win. We’ll come quietly—right, Mam?”
Ji-ji tries to ease Silapu away from Petrus. Lucky wouldn’t desert her, not now, would he? (The bastard’s moving into position! Shoot, Lucky! Shoot!)
Petrus chuckles. “Lotter’s drunk the Kool-Aid when it comes to your mam. You’re right. He’d kill me if I shot her. But I don’t think he’ll give a fuck if I plug an ugly little Mule like you.”
Just before Petrus fires, Silapu leaps. She slams on top of Ji-ji, knocks her down. The earth punches all the wind from Ji-ji’s lungs. She’s dying! Another shot rings out and something heavy topples beside them. Petrus! Staring at them with open-shut eyes! His work boots are a few feet from Ji-ji’s face. The tire treads on the soles of his boots are caked in mud.
Ji-ji rolls out from under her mam. Lucky is beside them. Somehow, he’s climbed back over to the prison side in the blink of an eye. He has one claw hand and one gun-toting hand.
Six feet away (numbers, numbers), Petrus’ eyes are glass. His neck looks like the Italian sub sandwiches Lotter likes her to make him for lunch—split open and stuffed with meat and sauce.
“You killed him,” Ji-ji states, looking up from the mud as she lies beside her mam.
“That’s the problem,” Lucky says, breathing hard. “I don’t think it was me shot him. Let’s hope it was the Friend near the lookout.… But it seemed to come from out there.” He points to the line of trees where they hid earlier. His whole arm is shaking.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” he cries. “Someone could’ve heard the shots!”
“Mam?” Ji-ji says. “Mam?”
Her mam is lying there in the mud. Her seed symbol is weeping. We call them weepings, Ji-ji thinks—or does she say it?—because of the three “tears” they shed. Sometimes we call ourselves Weepings too.
In spite of the pouring rain, she can see it: blood seeping from the wound in her mam’s chest because Silapu leapt in front of her Last&Only at exactly the wrong moment and saved her.
“I can carry you, Mam, so can Lucky! He carried me for miles.”
