The Defectors (Defectors Trilogy) (11 page)

I turned to find the source of the voice and saw a tall, matronly woman with wispy platinum-blond hair floating down her back. This must be Ida. She wore gold rectangular glasses that framed huge, pale blue eyes and a floor-length skirt that appeared to be constructed from bits of carpet sewn together. Ida flew down the hall in a few strides and pulled me up in a spleen-crushing hug.

“You’re so skinny! Half-starved, I guess.” She pulled me a few inches away to get a good look, and I got the chance to study her up close. Her face was aged with wrinkles but had the healthy red flush of a farmer. She was positively beaming at me.

“This is Ida,” Logan explained.

“I’m Haven,” I choked, trying to smile.

“I know! Max caught me on the way in . . . said you survived an attack in the woods and Amory removed your Citizen ID?
 

I nodded.

“Oh, how awful. And whose idea was that?” She threw a sideways look at Logan, who flushed.

Ida made a tsking sound. “Always the excitable types, you and Roman,” she said to Logan. “I just always thought there had to be another way.”

I looked at Logan, feeling uncomfortable, but Ida changed the subject masterfully.

“Haven, dear, did Amory feed you when you arrived?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “He made me some eggs.” It seemed as if it was best to be forthcoming with this woman.

“Eggs? In the afternoon?” Ida turned to Logan, looking aghast. “That young man fed our newest patriot
eggs
?”

Logan nodded grimly, but I could see a laugh threatening to burst forth from her lips.

“Thank god Max is roasting a chicken tonight. I wonder if he can make some of that rhubarb pie I like to go with it.” She smacked her lips with relish before releasing me and strode out the back door.

“She’s not going to slaughter a chicken, is she?” I asked.

“No, Max did that this morning. It’s quite the production.”

I must have looked queasy, because Logan laughed.

“Everything is as fresh as it gets out here.”

Although I desperately wanted to explore the house and the farm some more, Logan made me go directly back upstairs to sleep until dinner. Her reasoning was that between my encounter with the carriers and my “hack doctor surgery,” I had lost a lot of blood and probably had a concussion.

I didn’t argue with her. After everything that had happened, I still felt weak and exhausted. Now that I was cleaned up and no longer bleeding — and, most of all, safe — I wanted nothing more than a nice long nap. I sneaked another piece of the delicious bread Amory had offered me earlier and climbed the stairs to my room. Curling up under the quilt that smelled like cedar and fresh air, I breathed a sigh of relief and fell asleep.

I awoke to the smell of roasted chicken wafting up from the kitchen. I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed. Although I’d eaten a lot earlier, I felt ravenous again. Judging by the darkness of the house, I had slept for hours.

Walking down the hall toward the kitchen, I could tell the mood in the house had changed completely since I first arrived. I could hear laughter around the table, the happy sounds of pans clanking on the stove, and Frank Sinatra belting from the record player.

“I hope you’re hungry!” said Ida when she saw me, opening her arms invitingly. “Maxwell has prepared an excellent feast.”

Max grinned up at me as he bent to pull the chicken out of the oven. The scent was enough to make my mouth water. I hadn’t tasted chicken in months.

I followed him to the dining room, which was illuminated by a huge brass lantern. The walls were papered in a loud paisley pattern that gave the room a homey feel, and a long table was laden with heaps of mashed potatoes, two fresh loaves of rosemary bread, green beans, and roasted carrots.
 

“Dinner is served,” Max said with an air of ceremony, giving a ridiculous little bow and gesturing to the table.

I grinned and hovered awkwardly next to the table, waiting for the others to claim their seats. A moment later, Logan and Roman trickled in. Logan rolled her eyes but smiled indulgently at Max, and Roman looked about as friendly as ever.
 

Max lunged around me to pull Logan’s chair out for her, and she sneaked a glance at him before taking her seat. I took the chair across from her, as far from Roman as possible.

Ida came in carrying a steaming rhubarb pie. “Life is too short. I just prefer to start with dessert sometimes.”
 

Finally, Amory strode in looking distracted. His hair was damp, and he smelled like soap — something woodsy and refreshing. He flopped down into the chair on my left with an audible “Hurumph.”

“Tough day at the office, dear?” Max asked, laying a hand over Amory’s in mock concern.

Amory pulled his hand away, but a shadow of a grin flitted across his face. He kicked Max under the table so forcefully that I thought he might upend his chair, and it suddenly made sense how somebody as tightly wound as Amory had managed to become friends with Max.

“Well, Haven wasn’t lying about those carriers,” he said, ignoring the spread of food before him as everybody else began heaping their plates. “Four of them — no more than eight weeks infected, so far as I could tell.”

“Those poor things,” said Ida, sipping her tea with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, and
you
didn’t want to go after them,” said Roman. He was glaring at Amory.

“They weren’t encroaching on our land,” said Amory. “I’ve never seen carriers moving with such . . . purpose. They weren’t even tempted by the farm. It was like they were on a mission.”

Roman snorted. “Listen to yourself.” His voice was level and cruel. “It’s like you think they’re still in their right minds. That
disease
eats their brains. Once it’s progressed, they can’t
think.
They’re not human anymore!”

I felt a flash of anger. Those carriers were about as far along as my mother, and she had still been my mom — even when she wasn’t in her right mind.

“That’s enough,” said Ida. She hadn’t said it sharply or even raised her voice, but Roman fell silent and stared down at his plate, looking abashed.
 

“They are still people,” she said evenly. “Dangerous, yes, but only because they are afflicted with a deadly disease that destroys their ability to reason and feel empathy for other humans. Until there is a cure, we protect our land and each other. But I did
not
open my house for it to become a war zone or to shoot carriers indiscriminately. If they don’t stop here, let them move on in peace. Each of them was somebody’s family once.”

I looked up at Ida, feeling a rush of affection I couldn’t quite explain. Roman cleared his throat in a way that sounded like reluctant assent.

“Now enough of that talk,” she said, brightening visibly. “Haven, why don’t you tell us how you came to be here?”

I hadn’t been expecting that. “Well, I left Columbia about five days ago.”

“You’ve come a long way.”

I nodded. “I was with my friend Greyson, who’s undocumented, and we were identified by one of the rovers. The PMC ambushed us, and he was captured.”

Ida shook her head sympathetically. “I am so sorry to hear that.”

“He and I were supposed to leave together to go west. We’d been planning it for weeks.”

“Are you telling me you were flagged by the PMC?” Roman asked.

“Is it true?” Logan interrupted. “What people are saying? Are there illegal settlements and no carriers at all?”

“That’s what we hear,” said Ida. “Although I’m sure they have their outbreaks just like anywhere. The difference is the PMC never really got a strong foothold out west.”

“I don’t see why not,” Amory muttered. “It’s not as if the federal government didn’t turn its back on them, too!”

“The government made a choice that seemed to be for the best at the time,” said Ida. “And they had their supporters. Nobody could have predicted the outbreaks —”

“Oh, you can’t possibly believe that!” Amory snapped, slamming his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.

“Amory!” Logan shook her head at him.

“You are all so blind to what’s been going on! The Collapse was no coincidence. It’s such a lie!”

“Stop!” Logan yelled. “Just stop! I can’t hear any more of your crazy conspiracy theories.”

“Will you open your eyes and look around?” Amory brandished his hands around him, his eyes gleaming. “With the food shortages and the oil crisis, the government was already on the ropes! When the outbreak started, people were terrified, and the federal government looked completely incompetent. Are you telling me that wasn’t the perfect opportunity for the PMC to seize power for good? Are you telling me that the ‘Collapse’ just happened overnight?”

“You’re fucking crazy! It’s not some big conspiracy.”

Amory slammed his hand down. “Doesn’t it seem a little odd to you that the U.N. hasn’t stepped in to help? Not one country — not a single one — has offered foreign aid. When the PMC took control, no one was paying attention to the fact that we were losing our rights or that the PMC was alienating all of our allies. Everyone just said please and thank you when we invaded Canada, and suddenly the PMC has the perfect opportunity to brand us like cattle and track our every move!” He punctuated the last two words with bangs on the table, and his jagged scar shone in the light of the lantern as a glowing, pearly “X” etched into his skin.

I sank lower in my seat. I’d had plenty of similar dinners with Greyson and his heated outbursts of theories, but with Amory, it was different — somehow more personal.

“You can’t really think that!” Logan’s eyes were shining. “They were brought in as our protectors. The federal government wasn’t doing anything!”

“So why is it just us, huh? The virus isn’t killing off the Chinese or the Germans. Why hasn’t it spread?” He paused a beat for dramatic effect. “Because it’s a controlled outbreak!”

“You can’t be serious!” Logan’s voice was dead quiet. “They’re not
monsters
!”
 

“Not monsters? You think what they do can be justified?”

“N-No, of course not. Things got out of hand. There was a lot of corruption in the PMC after the vaccination came out.”

“Do you hear yourself? Nobody knows how the virus spreads
really
, but then some scientist comes out of nowhere with a vaccine. Pretty convenient that the only way to ensure a citizen has been vaccinated is with a CID.”

“I just don’t believe it. I won’t. They wouldn’t knowingly jeopardize millions of lives just to mandate the CID.”

Amory sat back, looking grim and satisfied. “Believe what you want. The outbreak and the migration and the ID bill were all part of a carefully orchestrated coup that essentially dismantled every democratic ideal this country has held for the last three hundred years. But by all means . . . live in your happy bubble of ignorance and denial.”

Logan pushed her chair away from the table and made to stand up, but Ida placed a wrinkled hand gently on her arm. “Sit down. Nobody leaves the table in anger.”
 

“Are you all deaf?” Roman’s voice startled me. “Or are you just ignoring the small detail that we are housing an illegal who probably led the PMC right to our front door!”

I froze. He was talking about me. The PMC had identified me, and it was possible that they had tracked me there.

“They can’t trace her,” said Amory. “She was too far away for any street rovers to pick up the signal.”

Roman cut him off. “Satellite rovers fly over the trail all the time.”

Amory shook his head. “Ida has the signal jammer.”

“That might not even work.”

“It’s worked fine so far.”

Roman shot him a dark look. “That sure makes me feel better.”

“If it doesn’t work, we’re all going down anyway. Undocumented illegals aren’t a hell of a lot better than known defectors.”

“Says the defector,” Roman shot back. He sighed, clearly disappointed and annoyed that his concerns were so easily dismissed.

Amory looked smug, and Ida smiled toothily at us all. “I like a little spirited debate among friends at dinner!” Her eyes lingered on Amory as she pronounced the word “friends,” but she did not appear cross.

Roman settled back into his chair, not bothering to conceal his glare in Amory’s direction. But somehow, miraculously, the fog of tension seemed to dissipate slightly.

“So Haven,” Ida said, changing the subject again. “You probably need some clothes and supplies. I don’t imagine you managed to bring very much with you.”

I shook my head.

“Okay. I go to the Exchange tomorrow, so I can pick up whatever you need.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I began. “You’ve done so much already . . . opening up your home, sharing your food.”

“Please, dear. It’s what I do.” She smiled. “It makes me feel useful, like I’m actually doing something to help.”

I hesitated. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is this place? Why do you take us all in when we’re —”

“When you’re undocumented and I’m not?”
 

I nodded.

“Just because I have a Citizen ID doesn’t mean I agree with what’s going on out there. I chose to comply with documentation because I enjoy teaching my students, and I intend to keep teaching them until they are all forced to migrate north to join their parents. I think I’m more useful to the cause that way. Being documented allows me to move around the city, bring back supplies. It also keeps this house beyond reproach. Since I’m complying with the law, teaching at the university, paying my taxes, nobody bothers me out here very often.
 

“But I knew that there were many people who did not want to submit to such a disgusting breach of personal liberty. So I thought I could offer my home as a safe house for travelers and as headquarters for
The Patriot Press
.”

I must have looked puzzled, because she elaborated.

“I am first and foremost a journalist, Haven. And the press was not fulfilling its watchdog role. Besides, Internet access is not widely available to those without a CID. Not like it matters much — anyone publishing anything perceived as revolutionary online is facing serious repercussions these days.”