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62 LISTENED TO THE FAINT whirring sound of the electronics in the radio room. The volume on the receiver was turned nearly all the way down, making the static of the empty airwaves invisible in the wake of the pulse and hum of the equipment.
Blue wanted to find some things that had belonged to Mattie, things he wanted to keep. 00 had gone back to the library with him. He said it was to help Blue carry whatever he might find, but 62 knew it was really because 00 was worried that Blue shouldn’t be alone. They’d sent 62 ahead to the radio room to sit and listen for any news from the jailhouse. 62 loved the library, but he didn’t argue. His head throbbed and he didn’t have it in him to go traipsing all over Hanford on a scavenger hunt when Blue wouldn’t tell them what he was looking for.
He turned his eyes over to the controls. 62 knew he could turn up the volume, pick up a microphone, and call the jailhouse himself. But he was afraid that if he called, someone would answer, and he’d have to tell them the horrible news. It wouldn’t be right to make that call without his friends. Instead, 62 leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and listened to the sounds of the ancient mechanical devices that reminded him so much of all those cycles back in Adaline where almost everything had an electric pulse.
The night at Auntie’s hadn’t been restful. Once Blue’s idea to use the sentries against the Oosa was let loose, it was impossible to reel back in. To say Auntie wasn’t wild about the idea would be an understatement. Aside from 62 and his friends bringing N302 to life in the computer at the library, Auntie hadn’t seen much tech in the many years she’d been alive. The last bots she’d seen were simple assistants, back when she was a young Woman in Curie. Back before Curie had a chance to catch up with Adaline’s tech. Back before the war.
The war that destroyed Curie and forced its survivors above ground.
62 knew the story about how the Women had blamed technology for the destruction of their home. It was the tech, they believed, that made some invisible enemy turn against them, blowing a hole in the top of their home and destroying the systems that kept most of the underground world alive. Auntie had been lucky to get out. She was even luckier that she wasn’t alone. She’d banded together with the other Women who were strong enough to climb out of the crater and had founded Hanford. A simple town with an even simpler goal: to survive the war.
Just before the Boys had left her house in the morning, she’d told them that’s what was starting now. A war.
62 puzzled over the concept of war with the Oosa. He shook his head without opening his eyes. The idea was stupid. If the Oosa asked him why all these people were ready to fight, he didn’t know how he’d answer them. There were many reasons, he supposed. To help Hanford be free of the Oosa’s influence. To keep children from being born with their horrible disease. To keep Women from being damaged the way Sunny was. But, 62 wondered, were any of those his reasons for wanting to fight? Maybe they were. Or maybe he was just mad about Mattie dying and needed someone to hate for it. Someone to blame.
Eventually, the comforting sounds of the radio room faded away. 62 felt like he was falling, down through his chair, through the floor, through the layers of sand and rock beneath him. He landed somewhere deep in the earth, a narrow room so dark that he couldn’t see the end of his nose. He lifted his hands to his face, but they were lost in the darkness.
He felt something stir beside him. A smooth cloth trailed between his fingers. He reached out blindly, finding something soft and cool lying just within arm’s reach. It felt like a broom handle wrapped in leather. He walked his fingers down, following the edge of the unseen item until he felt a knobby bump on one side. Farther down the fleshy rod flattened, spreading to the width of his hand. Something stuck out from the base. Several somethings. He counted them. Five.
Five slender fingers that snatched at him as two glowing eyes sprung open inches from his own.
62 tried to pull away, but the damp dirt at his back made it clear there was nowhere to go. He wriggled his arm, but the phantom hand only gripped tighter. He tried to scream, but the space was too small. The earth surrounding him swallowed the sound up before it went anywhere. The green eyes never ceased their staring, boring into his frightened soul.
“Don’t go,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Don’t leave me alone.”
He knew that voice. He knew where he was. He wrenched his hand free of Mattie’s grasp and forced his hands into the soil overhead. Soil rained on his face in sheets as he pawed at the packed earth between him and the open air.
She grabbed hold of his shoulder, her fingers as cold as a winter’s day. She was holding him, pushing him against the wet dirt beneath him. He struggled. Screamed. Pushed the dead Girl away from him.
“Get off me!” he shouted. The ceiling of dirt above him turned to rock. He could feel the skin on his hands start to bleed, stinging from the abrasive soil as it mingled with his blood. Mattie was crying now; not a natural cry like someone who’d been hurt or mistreated. Her sobs came at him in a hideous wail. The howling sobs of the buried dead.
62’s eyes flew open the instant 00 touched his shoulder. He leaped from the chair, arms still flailing as his hands clawed at the air overhead. He blinked against the sudden light as a panicked growl made its way past his tight throat. His mind raced and he spun around, ready to flee.
00 sprang back, hands in the air in a defensive position. “Sorry!”
The radio room came into focus. The volume on the radio louder than it had been before. Blue’s hand hovered over the dial, sad eyes taking in 62’s panic but not reflecting sympathy or even concern.
“Holy dustballs,” Blue swore, “take a breath.”
“I—I was dreaming!” 62 exclaimed, choking on his relief at being alive and above ground.
“Must have been a doozy,” 00 said. His palms were still held above his shoulders, his eyes wide with the fear of being attacked.
“It was Mattie,” 62 said. He grabbed at his chest. His heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it might explode.
“Did you connect with her?” Blue’s eyes came alive. Hope filled them for the briefest moment, and he looked like his old self. The young Man he’d been before he knew Mattie was leaving him forever.
“She was dead.” 62 shook his head, trying to make sense of the images flashing in his mind. “In the dream, I mean. She trapped me in her grave and wouldn’t let me out. It was so real. She didn’t want me to leave her alone.”
Blue’s eyes hardened. 00’s hands dropped to his sides. 62 wiped sweat off his forehead. As 62 tried to catch his breath and forget the nightmare that still clung to the back of his mind, he knew why Blue wanted to fight the Oosa. It should have been to free Hanford from their grasp. To save future Girls from being taken and hurt like Sunny. Those reasons were noble, and right, but they weren’t what made Blue want to turn the sentries on the strangers from far beyond the desert’s edge.
He wanted to punish them for Mattie.
62 pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push the blurry screen from his vision and the pain from his head. It worked a bit, or at least 62 told himself it had, and he brought his focus out of Mattie’s grave and back into the radio room. Everything was the same as it had been before he’d dozed off aside from a stack of books on the edge of the desk. He heard the radio noise grow in volume as Blue turned the dial, but focused on the spines stacked in a neat row in front of him. The Book of Five Rings. Seven Pillars of Wisdom. War and Peace. On War. The Art of War.
“This is what you brought back from the library?” 62 looked up at Blue. He’d never known Blue to read much. Or at all, for that matter.
“Yeah. 00 helped me figure out Mattie’s code to find what you want. She always said that one day, something would get me reading.” Blue reached over and straightened the stack. “Turns out, she was right.”
62 glanced warily at 00, who shrugged his shoulders in reply. To Blue he asked, “What are you going to do with them?”
Blue scoffed. “Read ‘em. What else? I’ll share ‘em if anybody else wants to take a look. I figure it makes sense to get some studyin’ in before we get to where we’re heading.”
Before 62 had a chance to ask any more questions, Blue had hit the button to transmit and was calling out to whoever might be sitting by the radio at the jailhouse.
“Hello,” a mechanical female voice answered. “This is N302. How may I be of service?”
“Holy dustfeathers,” Blue whispered. “It sounds like a Girl.”
“Told you,” 00 said from the back of the room. In a low voice he grumbled, “... like a thousand times.”
62 moved closer, making sure his voice would be picked up on the microphone. “Hi, N302. It’s 62. Think you could give me another ride?”
“Are you still unwell, 1124562?”
It hadn’t bothered him in the past when N302 or anyone else called him by his full number. But now, for some reason, it made him cringe a little. “I’m feeling sorta better. But if I do too much, it’s puke city.”
“Please come get us,” 00 lamented from where he sat, fiddling with some tangled wire he’d found on a nearby shelf. “We’re tired and don’t want to walk all the way back.”
“Confirmed,” N302 answered. “In approximately twelve hours, thirty-eight minutes, and seven seconds, I shall meet you at the agreed location.”
“You know how to get to this place?” Blue asked 62 with a single raised eyebrow.
“Yeah. It’s out in the scrub land. We can find the spot, no problem,” 62 assured him.
Blue leaned into the microphone so close, 62 wondered if he was going to kiss it. Blue just spoke plain and clear into the closely held mic. His voice sounded worried when he asked his question. “You have room for three of us?”
“Boy Blue. How nice to hear from you. Unfortunately, my new ambulatory system is only large enough for two. You will have to run behind. Do try to keep up,” N302 answered.
Blue glowered at the radio. “Is that a joke?”
“Yes, of course. It is a joke. Do not worry. When you arrive at the retrieval point, my accessory units will assist you,” N302 answered, her voice pitched higher than normal as if she were smiling.
“We’ll see you there,” Blue said. He didn’t wait for a reply. He set down the mic and shoved the volume dial down low. He shook his head. “That dumb doctor. Had to go and give the bot a sense of humor.”
62 looked over at 00 and stifled a giggle.
00 grinned back. Then his smile stretched wider and his eyes squinted until they shut tight. His grin twisted into a massive yawn. The end of his tired breath came out in a squeak. “Well, nothing to do now but wait. I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’m going to kill the time by taking a nap.”
“We should pack,” Blue said firmly. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us, and we want to make sure we’ve got enough supplies to make it through.”
“Go ahead and pack,” 00 said as he stretched his arms overhead. “Do whatever you gotta do. I’m not worried. She’s picking us up tonight. I’ll eat a big dinner later and wear an extra jacket in case it gets cold.”
“You’re not going to pack a bag of food?” Blue gaped at 00.
“What’s the point? We’ve got plenty of stuff up at the jailhouse. As long as N302 doesn’t get lost, we’ll be home in time for breakfast.” 00 started toward the door, but paused halfway. “Maybe I’ll pack half a sandwich. If the wind’s not too bad, a midnight snack under the stars might be nice.”
“You seriously think we’re going to wake up tomorrow and magically be up on Rattlesnake Mountain?” Blue shook his head. “I hold the record for fastest trip between the jailhouse and here. Ain’t no way N302 can beat that.”
“She already did,” 62 answered. “What 00’s saying is right. As long as we’re at the right spot when it’s time to get picked up, we should be home in time for buckwheat pancakes and blueberry syrup.”
Blue looked at his feet and 62 wondered if he was trying to size them up against N302’s new treads. No matter what he was thinking, his face showed concern and worry that had nothing to do with the bot. “Well, good for N302, I guess.”
“Nah,” 62 said as he tried to smile. “Good for us.”