Among the Brave

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Trey had barely driven out the gates of Population Police headquarters when Mark began tapping on the window behind him. Trey turned around to look, practically driving off the road in the process. He slammed on the brake just in time to avoid ending up in the ditch. Of course, that killed the engine instantly.

With shaking hands, Trey opened the window behind him so he could talk to Mark.

“Good grief! Who taught you how to drive?” Mark asked jokingly

“You,” Trey said.

“I think I was safer facing execution,” Mark moaned.

“I’m doing the best I can,” Trey muttered through gritted teeth. His heart was still pounding hard, though. What if they had landed in the ditch, gotten stuck, and missed their deadline for rescuing Lee and the others?

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Mark said. “There’s a tool chest under the seat Find the wire cutter in there, set me free, and then let’s go straight to picking up Luke.”

Trey glanced around quickly, as if he was afraid someone would hear. They were in a deserted stretch, but he’d already learned that deserted-looking areas might hold the most danger.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he whispered back to Mark. “Didn’t you hear the guard? If we double-cross him — if we don’t pick up his friend first — we can’t get our friends, and we’ll be shot on sight by any Population Police officer.”

“What if he was just bluffing? What if this is all just a trap that’s going to get us both killed — and Lee and the others, too?” Mark asked.

Trey hadn’t considered that possibility He’d been too focused on the challenges of getting to the right place at the right time.

“What if the guard’s friend is dangerous?” Mark continued.

“I don’t know,” Trey wailed. The dashboard lights flickered. “Does that mean something bad?” he asked Mark.

“Yeah, you’re starting to drain the battery. Look, just hand me the toolbox, and start the engine again and keep driving. Once I get out of here, I’ll take over the wheel. Then you can look through the documents and see if you spot a trick”.

In the dark, Trey searched around under the seat until he found a large metal box. He stepped out of the cab only long enough to put the toolbox in the truck bed beside the cage, well within Mark’s reach. Mark handed him something round in exchange. Trey stared at it, puzzled.

“It’s an apple,” Mark said. “Remember? Food? The guard gave me my knapsack back You’ve got to be at least as hungry as I am.”

“Thanks,” Trey said.

He slid back into the front seat, and took a bite. The apple seemed to be the most delicious food he’d ever tasted in his life.

Good thing that mob’s not chasing me now, he thought, as he started the engine again and drove cautiously back onto the road.

He didn’t understand how the Population Police could promise people food, and then not give it to them. Or just give them ruined food.

Aldous Krakenaur isn’t running the Government very well, They thought, then almost giggled at the absurdity of it all. Of course Aldous Krakenaur wasn’t running the government well. He was most concerned with killing people.

What if that was the guard’s goal too?

Just drive, Trey told himself Don’t think

The road that led toward both the Nezeree prison and the Slahood detention camp carried them away from the city after just a few miles, and Trey was heartily relieved. The countryside seemed much less threatening.

Trey left the back window of the truck open, and he could hear Mark muttering behind him.

“. . wire cutter’s not strong enough, but maybe with the pliers—”

“Can’t you hurry?” Trey shouted back at him.

“I’m doing the best I can,” Mark yelled. “Just like you. But it’d help if you stopped weaving so much!”

Trey concentrated on driving in as straight a line as possible. But then the road swerved to the left, and he barely managed to turn in time.

“Hey!” Mark yelled. “Watch it!”

“Sorry,” Trey said.

He slowed down for all the curves after that, which was frustrating. He didn’t have a watch on, but he could feel each minute ticking by. The sky was starting to brighten a little directly ahead of him — to the east, he guessed.

It was five thirty-three when we left. Is it six o’clock now? Six thirty? And Mark’s still in his cage and I’m scared to drive very fast… What if we don’t get there in time?

The road got curvier. Mark seemed to have given up on trying to escape, and just focused on coaching Trey around each turn.

“Ease the clutch out gradually,” he was saying as Trey maneuvered around a particularly narrow hairpin twist.

They was concentrating so completely on his shaking leg muscles that he didn’t see what hit the opposite side of the truck. But he heard shrieking, and then Mark screamed behind him, “Speed up! We’re under attack!”

In his panic, Trey let his foot slip off the clutch pedal entirely. The truck died. Trey glanced quickly off to the right as he reached for the key to restart the engine. Dark shapes were swarming all over the truck. They began to rock it.

“Food! Food! We want food!” the crowd chanted, bouncing the truck up and down.

“Leave us alone!” Mark yelled.

The next thing Trey knew, the truck was turning over.