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DON COAXED THE TRUCK up the steep hillside, tires spinning now and then on the loose gravel. The engine groaned in protest. Jane and Megan held on for dear life as the vehicle rattled and bounced over the uneven surface.
“Not as much torque as a Hoarder truck,” Don muttered under his breath, frowning at the speedometer.
“No kidding,” Jane replied, as another pothole sent a shudder through the chassis and into the seats. “I can’t say much for the shock absorbers, either.”
Megan braced herself against the back of Jane’s seat with her foot. She was fascinated by the terrain around them. The overgrown road wove its way up the hillside, the narrow lane lined with thick evergreens and undergrowth.
Why does this feel so familiar? Where in my past does the wilderness fit in? Not for the first time, she was frustrated by her inability to communicate with clarity.
There were so many questions she wanted to ask. But the effort was exhausting and, more often than not, the results were unsatisfying. Is one of these villages my hometown?
The sole memory she possessed of the wilderness was her recent escape from the Hub. She’d stolen an Implant from the infirmary, intent on finding the Givers and regaining their favor. Her ill-advised plan now seemed foreign to her, illogical.
Her memories had begun to resurface, sporadic and unconnected, during her trek through the tunnels. The Givers’ silence took on a new significance: She wasn’t cut off from the aliens—she was free of them. She was becoming human again.
She pondered the mechanic’s cryptic warning. It hadn’t taken her long to realize her verbal handicap was often misread. People tended to assume she was hard of hearing, or too stupid to comprehend what was said.
She resented it at first, but discovered she could learn a great deal if she stayed quiet and listened.
Enrico doesn’t trust Mateo, and he’s not sure what to make of me. Megan tried to interpret his words and nonverbal cues. Words are only one part of their communication. The sound of his voice, the look on his face, the way he stands—all of these combined tell the whole story.
“Amos came back here?” Jane’s skeptical question intruded into Megan’s thoughtful reverie. “The same place where he hid his Implant?”
They crested the hill, and drove at a modest pace along a high ridge. The road narrowed to a single lane, little more than a beaten-down track between rows of fall-yellowed maples, interspersed with dark evergreens.
“The last time I guessed where Amos went, I was right.” Don flashed a confident grin. The words were no sooner out of his mouth when his expression turned somber. “Amos hates this place, but it’s a hidey-hole he’s familiar with. I’m gambling he’s there now.”
Jane opened her mouth, but thought better of whatever question was on her mind. Megan scooted forward on her seat as Don decelerated. He scrutinized the trees to his left as if seeking a landmark.
“It’s a long way from the Hub,” Jane muttered, as if trying to convince herself. “Amos knows the routine as well as any of us—stay low and wait. The sewer’s a good hiding place, but next time, I think I’ll head out this way. If there is a next time, I mean. I don’t mind a good hike.”
Don braked and the truck skidded to a stop. There was no need to pull off the dirt path, even if the overgrown underbrush would have permitted it. No other vehicles competed for the use of the winding road. They were alone.
Don shut the engine down, and they waited in the cab an additional moment. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, a reassuring sound outside Don’s open window.
“You’re right. It’s a stiff trek,” Don said to Jane. “But this is where Amos comes when he’s out of options.”
He clamped his mouth shut, his lips forming a thin, hard line. Megan had learned enough by observing Don to know further questioning would be futile.
Jane’s eyes looked haunted. Megan suspected she wanted to question Don’s cryptic remark, but something held her back. Megan wondered what and why.
“Let’s go,” Don said, opening his door and stepping out of the vehicle. “It’s a short walk into the bush, and then downslope about a hundred meters. It’s a lot harder to climb up from the valley below, believe me. Amos will be tired and hungry by now.”
He led the way as they pushed into the forest adjacent to the neglected road, weaving their way through the thick underbrush. There was no conversation. Megan felt the tension mount as they neared the brink of their descent.
Don paused near the edge of the precipice. He knelt down behind a fallen tree, surveying the ground ahead with a worried look on his face. The terrain below was rocky and uneven, with a thick covering of pines, but less undergrowth than on the ridge.
“What is it, Don?” Jane crouched beside him, squinting downhill. “What do you see?”
Don shook his head, pulling out a pair of binoculars to scan the terrain below in a wide, slow arc. “We’ve been here before, remember. We came to retrieve the Implant Amos buried out here. And it was activated.”
Jane glanced at him, uneasy. “I haven’t forgotten. Aubrey’s Implant was activated at the same time.”
Megan stood beside her, imitating Jane’s careful scrutiny of their position. She wished, not for the first time, that her scanning eye still functioned.
“Last time, a Tracker managed to trail us this far,” Don said, continuing his visual inspection. “We got lucky. If we hadn’t used the prod to deactivate the Implant, it might’ve found us.”
Jane nudged Don in the ribs with a sharp elbow. He looked at her in surprise, and she jerked her head in Megan’s direction.
Shut up, her eyes flashed at him. Don fell silent. Megan pretended she hadn’t noticed their interaction.
“Trackers have been too near this place before,” Don said, in an obvious attempt to cover his verbal misstep. “But I don’t see any sign they’re patrolling now. Just the same, let’s not waste time. This is a quick sortie—either Amos is there, or he’s not. Then we head back.”
He rose to his feet, stowing the binoculars as he led the way downslope. Megan and Jane followed close behind, picking a cautious path over the rocky ground. A broken ankle, or even a serious sprain, would put everyone at risk.
Don’s familiarity with Amos’s hiding place made for an uneventful, if strenuous, trek down the steep incline. Within minutes, he halted near an outcropping of rocks, dropping to one knee to peer inside a dark hole.
Megan didn’t need to hear his muttered comment to know Amos wasn’t inside.
Jane crouched next to him, digging into a jacket pocket and producing a battery-powered torch. Leaning forward as far as she could, she shone the pencil of light into the recesses of the cave.
The small opening belied the depth of the cavern below, and Jane flashed the light into every nook and cranny. The brief inspection confirmed what they’d already suspected.
“If he was here, he didn’t stay long,” Jane said, putting their thoughts into words. “And he couldn’t have taken the sewer route back. We’d have met him on our way to Enrico’s place.”
“Or I guessed wrong, and he was never here,” Don said heavily. “If that’s the case, I have no idea where to look. He’ll have to find us.”
Megan gasped aloud, her sharp inhalation diverting their attention to her. She pointed a shaky hand at a dark mound about thirty meters downslope. A tight cluster of bodies lay scattered in haphazard fashion at the foot of one of the towering pines.
One of the corpses was clearly human.