Children No More-ARC Page 19

  "They're all dead," the boy said, tears streaking his face, "and now you're saying our brothers killed them."

  "They did," Long said. "I'm sorry."

  "Liar!" several of the boys yelled. "They were our comrades. They fought with us. They never held us as prisoners."

  "I'm not lying," Long said. "I'm telling the truth. Look around: These walls were here before we came. When those men brought you to this place, didn't they tell you not to leave? Do you think they would have let you go?" He shook his head. "No. No, they wouldn't."

  "They were protecting us from the government demons," one boy said. "Demons like you."

  "No," Long said. "That was another of their lies. They were hiding you so a group of inspectors wouldn't find you."

  "Why would they hide us?" the same boy said. "We were brave fighters, and they were proud of us."

  "Because it is wrong to use children as soldiers," Long said. "They knew that if they were caught doing it, they would be punished."

  "Our brothers would not have killed our families," the boy Long was holding said. Sobs blurred his words. "They would not have lied to us. They wouldn't have done that."

  "I'm sorry," Long said, "I really am, but they did. They manipulated you—tricked you—and they used you."

  "And now you are using us," the same boy said.

  Long released the boy and took two steps backward. "No," he said, "we're not. We are holding you here, but only until we can teach you how to live normally."

  The boy balled his fists and faced Long. "Why won't you fight me?"

  "Because you're done being soldiers. It's time for you to be boys again."

  The boy spit on his face. "Coward!"

  Long wiped the spittle from his cheek but otherwise did not react.

  After a few seconds, the boy said, "I knew it." He faced the small group of watchers. "They are cowards!" He returned to his friends.

  A couple of them patted him on the back. Others walked away as he drew closer, clearly isolating him, punishing him for failing to force Long to fight.

  Long watched them but did not move.

  When they had all left, I said to Long, "Isn't that hard? If someone attacks me, I hit back."

  "So do I," he said, still staring straight ahead and not looking at me, "under normal circumstances, but these aren't normal circumstances. And, to answer your question, yes, that was difficult. A big part of me wanted to pound that jerk into pulp, but that would have accomplished nothing. More importantly, these kids have suffered enough. Learning to master those impulses and ultimately to feel them less often—those are big parts of what we trained to do." He rolled his neck and stretched his back. "Right now, I'm really glad we had that training." He finally turned to face me. "What's most important is to remember that these are children, not soldiers."

  They can be both, I thought, but I saw no point in saying those words. Long, like the other counselors here, would tell me that he already understood my point. Maybe he did, but not from experience, not the way I did, not the way these boys did.

  "They are children," I said, trying to explain it to him but unwilling to tell him why I was so certain, "but they've spent enough time as soldiers that childhood may be only a distant memory, if they remember it at all. I don't even know if they can recall it."

  He stared at me for a few seconds. "I see how you might feel that way, but I have to hope you're wrong. Even if you're right, all we can do is hope that with time and help they'll all find their way back to being kids."

  "I don't know if they can," I said, my voice barely a whisper. Too late I wondered why I was still speaking, whether I was really talking to Long or to myself, about them or about myself.

  "Neither do I," Long said, "neither do I, but we have to try. Let's get back to it."

  Chapter 37

  Dump Island, planet Pinkelponker - 139 years earlier

  The path from the shuttle landing zone to our cave turned sharply right about six steps from the edge of the large, open flat area. A meter past the turn, it widened enough that four of us could stand side by side and still not touch each other or the rock walls. Shadows darkened the area for all but a few hours of each day, which Benny said meant that if they were watching us from the sky, they could see us only during that brief time. We'd cut long branches, wedged them between the rock walls, and covered them with shorter branches. The area underneath this simple cover never received direct sunlight, so it would, we hoped, shield us from overhead spying.

  It was our new home.

  Sitting beneath it next to Benny, the two of us briefly alone while Han and Bob and Alex fetched fruit and water, I realized something obvious that had escaped me to that point. "If they're monitoring us from above, they've almost certainly examined this path before."

  Benny stared at me and nodded.

  "Which means they're sure to notice the sudden appearance of these branches."

  He nodded again.

  "And even if they've never looked at the path before, if they do spot tree branches connecting two rock walls, they're going to know this is something we built."

  "Yes."

  "Which means the shelter is useless."

  "Not quite," he said. "As protection from the government, yes, it's probably not going to do any good at all. It does, however, make our people feel more secure, and that sense of safety calms them and makes the days pass more comfortably."

  "But if it's a lie, shouldn't we tell them?"

  "To what end?" Benny said. "They've already heard that the day we attack the guards, some of them are likely to get hurt, maybe even die. You and the others who can fight are training hard, and our plan is as good as we can make it. We might as well let our people have some hope that we can win."

  "So the guards on the shuttle will know we're coming for them? We won't have the advantage of surprise that we've been counting on?"

  "Maybe we won't," Benny said, "but I'm betting that we will. The reason is that a more accurate version of your statement is that we won't be able to surprise the guards if the government is bothering to monitor us. I don't think they are. The single biggest thing we have going for us is that they're arrogant and think we're helpless. They can't see us as anything other than a bunch of useless freaks that they keep alive because some government official told them there was a small chance one of us might develop a talent they could use." He shook his head. "No, I'm betting they don't bother to watch us now and they never have."

  "If you believe that, then why did you even mention the possibility to all of us?"

  He sighed. "Because I made a mistake. When I first came here, I hadn't thought through the situation well. I was angry and hurt, because I knew what I could do for Pinkelponker, I knew my talents, and even though I tried to explain them to my parents and our island mayor and even to the men who dragged me onto the shuttle, no one would listen. When the guards threw me onto the sand here, everyone was so hopeless, so resigned to being on Dump forever, so useless, that I used that possibility to lash out at them." He paused for a few seconds. "I'm not proud of my behavior. I was wrong, but once I'd told everyone the government might be monitoring us, I learned that it made some of them angry. Being mad was a lot better than being hopeless. It also convinced the others that I knew things they didn't, so they paid attention to me. They listened to what I had to say." He rubbed his eyes with his upper arms. "Telling them the truth would have changed all that, so I never did. Instead, I resolved to lead them off Dump."

  I thought about what he'd said. I could go tell the others, but what would I gain by doing that? Hurting them by telling them the truth felt bad. Keeping his secret, though, was joining in the lie—and that felt bad, too. Something hit me. "So the reason you've pushed us so hard in training is that you feel bad about all this?"

  "No!" he said. "I've told you why we have to work so hard: Because the guards will be well-trained and have better weapons."

  I opened my mouth to speak but he started again before I co
uld say a word. "You're probably right that my guilt was also a motivation. For that, I'm sorry—but nothing about the training would be any different if I'd never deceived anyone."

  I considered his claim and nodded, but I wasn't done. Something else still bothered me.

  "If your lie proves to be right, if they are monitoring us, then aren't I correct that they will see this shelter, know we've moved closer, and be prepared for our attack?"

  "Probably," he said. "My guess, though, is that if they do know, they'll just land somewhere else. Why bother to fight when you can simply choose another landing site?"

  "Because they don't think we can hurt them?" I said. "Because they don't see it as a fight worth worrying about?"

  Benny shrugged. "Maybe, but it's still an easier choice to land elsewhere, and people tend to choose the easiest path available."

  "And if they do? If the next person arrives somewhere else on the island?"

  He rubbed his eyes again. "What do you think, Jon? We figure out how to cover two locations, or we tear down the shelter and look for better hiding places." He stared at me. His voice rose as he talked. "Or we put a team on both locations. I don't know! We keep on trying, because it's either that or accept that we'll spend the rest of our lives on Dump and never do anything more with ourselves than what we're doing right now." He paused and took a few breaths. When he spoke again, his voice was low and sad. "I don't know about you, but I can't live with that. I can't."

  I stared at him for a few seconds and nodded my head.

  "I can't either," I said, "but we won't have to. We'll beat them. We'll get off this island. We will."

  Chapter 38

  In the former rebel complex, planet Tumani

  The two boys weren't very good at following me. Maybe they'd been better in the forest, or at night, but they were terrible at tracking me in the interior of the complex. I'd spotted them as soon as I'd turned the far northeast corner on my perimeter guard patrol, but I hadn't said anything because I figured they'd give up soon enough. Ten lazy, slow-walking minutes later, they were still trying to parallel me but stay behind the cover of the closest buildings.

  "How long are you going to let those two run surveillance on you?" Lobo said over the comm. He had shot sensors into the trees before we launched the initial attack, and they were still operational. To be safe, I was having him monitor me—not that I could have stopped him.

  I kept strolling as I quietly said, "I don't know. Watching them is the most exciting thing I've done in the last few days. They don't appear to have any weapons, so I don't think I'm in any danger."

  "They don't," Lobo said, "and if those two can take you, I may have to trade you in for a new owner. Still, why take any risks at all?"

  I stopped. He was right. "Okay," I said.

  I leaned against the complex wall, where I had a clear view of the corner of the building behind which they were lurking. They'd have to cross a lot of open ground to get me if they chose to attack. I couldn't spot anyone else, so if they wanted to make a move, I was giving them as good an opportunity as they were likely to get.

  "Enough," I said. "We're done playing. Bony, Nagy: Come tell me why you've been following me."

  I crossed my arms and forced a yawn. I'd learned that looking slightly bored was often the best way to interest the boys.

  I waited.

  Nothing happened.

  I waited some more.

  "Want me to drop a warning round near them?" Lobo said. "That would give them a reason to move."

  I shook my head and suppressed a laugh. I brought my hand to my mouth and whispered, "No. They're just boys, and besides, you know we're not supposed to fire weapons in the complex."

  "Don't think of the round as a weapon," Lobo said. "Think of it as motivation in an excitable, metal-jacketed, high-speed form."

  "Are you that bored?" I said.

  "What do you think?" he said. "You're bored, and you get to walk around."

  Bony stepped into view from behind the building and stared at me.

  Nagy followed him a second later.

  "Leave me alone," I subvocalized, "so I can see what they want."

  "Out," Lobo said.

  I coughed into my hand and raised my head. "You two asked for this meeting," I said. "What do you want?"

  Bony tilted his head and stared at me. "We didn't ask for anything."

  "You might as well have asked me," I said, "considering the poor job you did of following me."

  "We were great trackers," Bony said, standing as straight as he could.

  "Great," Nagy said. "Many kills."

  Up to that moment, they'd behaved like boys. Now, I'd insulted them, and they were back to acting like fighters—stupid fighters, but fighters.

  When was I going to learn what the counselors kept demonstrating? Provoking the kids was rarely useful.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I was joking. I meant no offense."

  Bony stared at me.

  I looked away first.

  "Okay," he said.

  "So," I said, "what do you want?"

  Bony headed my way, Nagy always one pace behind him. The two of them leaned against the complex wall two meters to my left—close enough for conversation in a normal voice but out of my immediate reach.

  "You know our names," Bony said, "but we don't know yours. The others all tell us their names."

  Because they work with you, I thought, while I clean and walk patrol and waste time. I said none of that, though. Instead, I told them, "Jon."

  Bony glanced at Nagy and nodded, apparently satisfied. "So, Jon," Bony said, "none of these guards—or counselors or whatever they want to call themselves—will fight us."

  "No," I said, "they won't."

  "They don't even want to fight," Nagy said.

  I thought about how hard Chris had resisted the urge to beat up the boy who'd attacked him and about how he'd worked not to show his feelings to the kids. "No," I said, shaking my head, "they don't."

  "But you do," Bony said. "I can see it. You don't do it, you walk away when we try to get you to fight, but you want it."

  I didn't know what to say. I never thought of myself as wanting conflict, but I had to admit that when they pushed me—when anyone pushed me—anger surged in me, and I was indeed ready to fight.

  He laughed. "All those others, those 'counselors,' if we followed them, they would greet us like we were their best friends. Of course, before they reached us a few of their real friends would wander over like it was an accident that they happened to be there, not like they were reinforcements to hold us in case we attack. Not you, though: You let this wall get your back and wait to see what the story is. You're just like us."

  I shrugged. "No," I finally said, "I'm not. I'm a grown-up, not a kid. That's a big difference. And, I really don't want to fight you. Sometimes my—" I paused, searching for a way to explain it, conscious that Lobo was listening and by reflex not wanting to give away anything about myself "—background makes me prepare for conflict even when I shouldn't do that, but I don't want it. That weakness in me is why I'm out here walking wall patrol and spending the rest of my time cleaning up after you guys. It's all the counselors can trust me to do."

  "Whatever you need to say, Jon," Bony said, "you go ahead and say." He patted Nagy on the shoulder. "Me and my brother, though, we know what we see."

  "So you followed me out here to tell me your opinion of my behavior?" I said. "If so, I need to get back to work."

  Bony stared at me for a few seconds, his face growing tense. Nagy stepped to the left, widening the arc they covered. "Why do you want to disrespect me? You think I'm stupid because I'm young?"

  I held up my hands and edged away from them. "Whoa! Where did that come from? I answered your questions. That's all."

  "You think we're stupid enough to talk for no reason?"

  I'd watched him talk a lot, but each time he'd been after something. "No," I said, "I don't. Let me put it differently: What do you w
ant to know?"

  Bony looked me in the eyes and nodded. He waved his hand behind him. "All those others, I can't trust them. They're doing what they're doing, and maybe it'll be good for us and maybe it won't, but we'll never know who they really are. I don't know who someone is, I don't trust them. You, though, no matter what you say, I see it: You're a warrior. Like my brother here." He tapped Nagy's chest. Nagy smiled in response. Bony thumped his own chest. "Like me."

  I didn't know how to respond, so I said nothing.

  The two boys nodded their heads as if I'd agreed with Bony.

  "So what I want is to know is this, one soldier to another: What's really going on here?" His voice cracked for a second, and in that moment he was the boy, not the fighter. "What do they want?"

  "Exactly what they told you," I said. "They want to help you learn how to live normally again."

  "What normal?" Nagy said. His eyes were open, and he was looking at me, but he wasn't seeing me; he was somewhere else. "We had land. We had a river you could swim in, right near our house, on the edge of our property. My dad taught me and my sister to swim there." He shook his head, as if freeing himself from something. "They're all dead. I woke up next to them, covered in their blood." He stared at his hands and his chest. "I washed it all off in that river, the last time I went in it." He looked again at me, and this time, I think he was seeing me. "If that's what normal was, it's long gone, as dead as my family." His voice grew stronger as he continued. "Normal is being men who do what is necessary. Normal is tracking the government soldiers who killed our families. Normal is killing them."

  "It was," I said, nodding my head, "and I'm sorry for that, but it is over. You have to learn how to go back to being boys. The counselors will help you do that."

  Nagy spit at me but hit the ground in front of my boots. "So they want us to become weak again?" He shook his head. "No. No!" He turned and headed back toward the barracks. "I will never be weak again."