Skyland One Page 16

  This time, he walked with a purpose.

  Almost running, his footsteps slapped heavily against the floor.

  A few moments later, he was back at the tiny closet of a room he'd vacated that morning.

  Wills was waiting there, slouched on the bed, leaning against the wall, a book propped on his knees, reading. The door was open, but only ajar. He'd taken to hiding there in the mornings while Harper went wandering, rather than risk running into superiors who might notice him.

  Not that that would matter.

  Harper realized this, and another wave of anger rushed over him. He'd actually been worried about Wills! He'd actually been worried that Wills would be the one in serious trouble if Harper were found walking around the base alone. Worried!

  Wills looked up when Harper opened the door the rest of the way. The familiar broad smile spread over the thin face. Harper stopped in his tracks. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. For a second he just stared.

  You were part of the trap. You had to be. You stupid idiot! The last thought was hurled at himself. Harper leaned against the door frame. He felt his face going red. Anger boiled in him, but also shame. How could you be so stupid? Trusting a Union soldier!

  His face was frozen. Anger and embarrassment and disgust glued him in place as he stared at this betrayer. His lips couldn't move to form the accusations he wanted to hurl at Wills. And the soldier kept smiling, oblivious, staring around blandly, bored. He stood up and stretched. Harper moved back to let him step out into the hall.

  "Hey. Good wanderings?" Wills asked, as he did every day.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Harper had flung his hands out and shoved the skinny soldier hard in the chest. Wills fell back, teetered for a moment. Harper pushed him again, and he fell to the ground.

  "Wha–"

  "You set me up."

  "No, what?"

  "They told you to let me wander around by myself, didn't they? They wanted to see what I would do and they were watching. This whole time."

  "Wh-what?"

  "Not that I'm surprised of course. Obviously. I'm just a dumb local and they need my information. Really, really not surprised." He snorted and laughed, a completely unamused grunt. It was so obvious. Of course he was in on it. No surprise at all.

  But that was a lie.

  Harper was surprised.

  He'd been getting to like the young soldier, thought he was a bit different. Curious. Interested. Open. That didn't make sense, and Harper knew it. Wills was a soldier. He was just doing a job. But for a few days Harper almost begun to think of Wills as a friend. They were two friends, killing time, sneaking around avoiding the authorities. He'd started to see Wills as an equal, rather than a captor.

  Harper shook the thought out of head.

  He balled his hands into fists and pressed them over his eyes and tried to keep himself from ramming them into the stammering soldier, still sitting on the floor, making no move to get up. His eyes were wide. And he stared up at Harper. Harper turned away and shook his head. He ground his teeth in anger. He couldn't even look at Wills.

  For a silent moment, he tried to reign in the anger and stamp down the disappointment. Then Wills's voice broke the quiet.

  "Who... what do you mean?" he asked.

  Harper turned back and stared mutely at him. Wills pushed against the floor, and got cautiously to his feet, eyeing Harper. Harper stepped back, and shook his head again. Friend or not, he wasn't going to fight.

  Of course he was just doing what he was told.

  He threw the derisive thought silently about in his mind like an insult. He looked away again because the sight of that open, curious face that had betrayed him made the anger rise dangerously close to the surface. But as he looked at the black walls and met his own eyes in their reflections, a smaller voice, less angry, whispered in his head.

  But you were no better.

  Harper closed his eyes for a moment, avoiding his own gaze. Then he opened them again and looked Wills straight in the eye.

  "I just thought... I just thought we were getting along. I thought you were being nice letting me wander around like that. I just..."

  He shook his head again. Being nice? It just sounded so stupid coming out of his mouth. Friends with a soldier! And an invading one at that.

  Harper pressed his fists into his eyes again and waited. He waited for some sort of explanation, waited for an admission, waited for an attack, waited for the laughter at the joke of his foolish trust. He waited.

  "Wh-what? What happened?" asked Wills.

  "Don't be stupid." Harper lowered his fists and glared.

  "Look, I don't know what you're taking about! We were getting along. What happened?"

  "They were watching me." Harper laughed again at his own stupidity. "Like you don't know. Like you don't... When I was wandering the ship, they were watching me. I knew it. I should have known it. But–"

  "Who? Who was watching you?"

  "You know! You told me that I didn't need a guard. That they told you I didn't need a guard."

  "They told me you didn't need to be guarded, but... But... I didn't... I don't know anything about..." Wills stammered. "I really don't know what you're talking about. Who was following you?"

  "They told you to let me wander around didn't they?"

  "No."

  "Let me wander around, and they'll follow to see what I do? Is that it?"

  "No!"

  He snorted in disbelief. "Right." Liar.

  "Who do you mean, they?"

  "I ran into some old bearded soldier over by..." He paused, remembering that he hadn't told Wills where he'd spent the last few mornings. But his secrets – or what he'd thought were his secrets – didn't matter now. "Over by the cells."

  "What cells?"

  "The prisoners' cells."

  "There aren't any prisoners on this ship. Not yet anyway."

  Harper stared at him. Liar.

  He couldn't help thinking it, even though Wills's face was open, honest. His eyes were blank, confused. Totally ignorant. But he had to have known. He had to.

  Liar. "There are," he said. "I saw them."

  "No, I don't think so."

  "There are cells, dozens of them and prisoners too. At least one. I didn't see inside the other cells. But I've... been sneaking down there. Or at least I thought I was sneaking."

  "One prisoner?"

  "At least."

  "Who?"

  "An old man. I don't know him. And I don't know what you could possibly want him for anyway. He's a frail, bent thing sitting in crumbs and his own piss."

  "I don't think so..."

  "Yeah, over by where we met up on the first day? After you went to take a break. The hallway where you found me, remember? Come on." He grabbed Wills's arm. "Come on." Like you don't already know.

  "If you say so..."

  He turned around and Wills followed him back in the direction of the long, dark hall of sealed doors. They walked in silence around a few corners until,

  "Mr. Fields."

  For the second time that day, Harper froze as another voice came from behind him.

  "Mr. Fields?"

  Harper looked back. The angry man stood in the hall behind them. A smile stretched the pouchy features. Harper did not say anything.

  "Everything okay so far, Mr. Fields?"

  Harper looked straight into his eye.

  You know it's not. That was probably your trap, wasn't it? Of course it was.

  Harper just looked over at Wills, waiting for him to say something about being shoved to the ground. The young soldier just looked guilty and didn't say anything.

  Harper looked back at the angry man. "Yeah, great," he answered.

  The angry man turned to Wills, waved a hand and without a single word Wills stepped away, took one nervous look at Harper, flicked his eyes over to the angry-but-smiling man and moved off down the hall. A moment later he was gone.

  "You." The angry man took a step
closer, and Harper tensed reflexively.

  "Yes?"

  "Walk." He brushed past, continued down the hall a few steps, paused and looked back. "Walk."

  Harper obeyed.

  They walked for a few moments in silence, around a few corners, down a few hallways. They were not going in the direction of the prison wing. As they walked, Harper peered into the open doorways they passed, trying to ascertain where they were. He had no idea. Finally, the soldier broke the silence.

  "You said you knew where the dirt stores of the Sky Reverends are."

  "I do."

  "We need you to find out more."

  "More what?"

  "More information. Your, ah morning conversations..." He paused, smirking, and Harper just glared at him. "Your morning conversations with the old gentleman in our secure wing failed to yield any useful information, we need to take a more direct approach."

  "You can just ask. I already told you I would help."

  "And you need to find out if anything is changed."

  "Changed?"

  "Since the Sky Reverend's plan was put into action."

  "What do you mean?"

  "We need you to find out what has happened since the attack. Who has access to the stores now? Who had access to them at the time of the explosion – and, if you can, who was responsible? Have they been moved since the arrival of our troops? Have they been depleted? We just need to make sure your information is... accurate."

  "Because you think I'm lying? That I don't really know anything?"

  "Because we need to be certain before we make a move. We don't want to cause any, ah, accidents."

  Harper shivered at the word. "Accidents?"

  "We just want to make sure we have all the information. Can you get it from your father?"

  "I can." Harper flinched and realized his finger nails were digging into his palms. He took a steadying breath. Just the dirt stores. "How this going to work?"

  "Simple. You meet with your father. How you get the information is for you to decide. You will wear recording devices of course so everything will be relayed back to us."

  Recording devices.... like a spy. Just like the old chair maker said.

  Harper grimaced and looked away from the angry man. He did not like the idea of spying on his family. He shook his head.

  "No?"

  "No – I mean, yes, I can do that." Because there is no better choice. He shook his head again, as if trying to shake off the feeling that he was betraying someone. If I do not do this, then I am betraying Zara.

  The soldier's smile widened. "Good."

  "But..."

  "Yes?"

  "This is it," said Harper. "It is more than I said I would do. I told you I would help you locate the dirt stores. That was all. But... but I will do this because it will help you find them. But no more. I am not a spy."

  "You will be what you need to be."

  "I will only–"

  "Harper Fields, you are being treated as a guest for now," growled the angry man through a frozen smile, "but that can easily change. Do not forget you are the son of a Sky Reverend. It is only our largess that allows such a threat to walk free."

  Forget! Harper glared straight ahead and clamped his mouth shut against the rage boiling up inside him. Forget? He is in my head! I can never forget...

  "You're freedom is conditional," the angry man continued. "You meet our conditions, we uphold your freedom."

  "Sure," Harper spat through clenched teeth.

  "Don't believe me? Do you really want to test–"

  "No. I believe you," said Harper with complete honesty. "I believe that you'd lock me up. But not because you think I'm a threat. Only because you think I won't do what you say."

  "Make no mistake, we can easily change your status. From guest to threat.... it is not a big leap. Doubt at your peril."

  "That's not what I said. I don't doubt you'd do it. But you wouldn't believe it."

  "That remains to be seen."

  "If you really thought I was a threat, you'd already have me locked up on some prison colony light years away from here."

  The smile on the angry man's face tightened into a grimace. His eyes squinted into a glare. A second later he smiled again, wider than before. His lips quivered as if he were trying to hold in a laugh.

  "You're right," he said. "We don't. A farm boy like you is not a big concern to us."

  Harper heard the teasing strain in the man's voice, and he gritted his teeth. "Why not?" he asked.

  "Are you saying you should be a concern?" He was still smiling, still not-quite laughing.

  "I'm saying you don't see me that way. And if you don't, that means you have some reason to think that. Because from everything I've seen you don't assume people aren't threats. You assume they are."

  "We treat everyone as innocent until–"

  "Bullshit!" The word exploded from Harper's mouth. "Bull. Shit. What about that poor chair maker? You dragged him in here like a mad axe murderer, and I never saw someone who looked less criminal in my life!"

  "He could have had information–"

  "I have information!"

  "And we're going to get to that–"

  "And yet I am a guest, and he is a prisoner."

  "Don't flatter yourself. You aren't that different. As I said, it is not a great leap between the two."

  Harper turned his face away from the angry man, away from that mocking, corpulent face. He glared at the floor, eyes tight.

  Zara. Think of Zara. Do not make things worse. He grit his teeth, got his breathing in control, then flicked his eyes back up to the angry man. One more question. "How did you find me?"

  "What?"

  "On the Skyland ship. How did you find me?"

  "You can't possibly be interested in our method–"

  "How. Did. You. Find. Me."

  "We told you, there's weren't many farmers–"

  "Yeah, so why bother?" he asked. "Most of the farmers who could help you are right here on Skyland. Why try to find me? There were five thousand people on that ship and you walked right up to me."

  "You don't hide as well as you think."

  "I wasn't hid–"

  "Now I need you to answer some questions for us," the angry man interrupted.

  "Why did you–"

  "Harper Fields, you will answer some questions for us."

  Zara. Think of Zara. "Fine." Again he lowered his eyes to the floor trying to hide his glare. No information then. "What questions?"

  "Why don't you sit down."

  The angry man had stopped walking.

  Harper looked around.

  They stood at the open door to a small room. A cluster of screens filled one corner. A Union soldier slouched at a chair in front of them. There was a table in the center of the room and a few chair around it. This was not a cell. Harper took a careful step inside. The air was the same temperature as in the hallway.

  He pulled out a chair and sat. The angry man sat on the table. Harper crossed his arms and looked up at him, waiting for him to speak.

  "Firstly," the angry man began, still smiling just a tiny bit, "tell us where the Sky Reverends are."

  "Everywhere," Harper answered. "Every village. Every street. Every market. Even here in the city." His eyebrows knitted together as he squinted up at the angry man. Why? "You can't think I'll spy on all of them?"

  "Of course not. We need to know where they gather, where they have most power. Your village is a seat of their influence, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "Your father, he is not the only Sky Reverend there?"

  "No, there are... half a dozen, maybe. And their students. But they are not threats. Go after them and you will just create more enemies."

  "We are only interested in their weapons now."

  "Of course." Right.

  "And the dirt stores are nearby? You!" he barked to the soldier sitting in front of the cluster of screens in the corner. "Get us a map."

  A moment late
r a map of Skyland lit up one of the screens.

  The angry man pointed roughly at it. "Show me where they are."

  Harper squinted for a second at the map. He got up and looked closer.

  "They're here." He pointed to a spot a ways outside the city. "Mostly. You won't be able to get it all. Some of the Reverends keep the dirt in their homes. To be prepared. And then there may be others sites. I only know the east fields. But the largest collections are out behind the brown fields." He pointed to a dark patch, an inch wide on the map. "There's a pit house, dug down in the ground. Just looks like a shack in the desert from above."

  "How much do they have?"

  "I don't know."

  "How can you not–"

  "I don't know. I was there a long time ago. They had..."

  Harper looked around. He had no idea how much was there. He had no idea of its weight, or mass. He didn't even know how explosives were measured. He wasn't supposed to know. It wasn't his job. He only knew it was a lot.

  "Size of this room, maybe," he finished. "Solid. And that was... some time ago."

  Barely a week had passed since he had gone with his father to the stores and brought back a small bag of the fertilizer. But that was another life.

  Time is relative.

  The angry man looked around as if trying to picture it in his mind. "How much is that? In terms of what it can do?"

  "Enough to destroy all the ships. Several times over."

  "Hah." The angry man looked doubtful.

  Harper said nothing. He just waited.

  "Go talk to them," said the angry man.

  "Fine."

  "Your father. The Reverends. Whoever will talk to you. We need to be certain."

  "Okay."

  The angry man turned back to the other soldier in the corner, still silently watching the screens. "You!"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "He needs a wire."

  "Yes, sir."

  And he rustled around for a bit in a drawer in the table under the screens. The angry man turned back to Harper.

  "And Mr. Fields?"

  "Yes."

  "Don't try anything."

  "I'm not going to–"

  "We'll have a sniper on you going in and out of there."

  "Fine," snapped Harper.

  The tech soldier clipped some wires and plastic bits into his shirt, and Harper just shook his head.