Among the Enemy

Chapter Two

The wind whipped Matthias's hair into his face as the truck picked up speed. It would be easiest to close his eyes and lean back and let whatever was going to happen, happen. But he could feel Alia shivering beside him; he could feel the scrawny muscles in Percy's arm tensed with fear.

"Maybe it won't be so bad, where we're going," Matthias said.

"Maybe we can still escape," Percy whispered back. "Like last time."

They'd been picked up by the Population Police once before. Matthias still had nightmares about that awful time in their lives. Samuel, the kindly man who'd raised them, had been killed, and Matthias was suddenly in charge, even though he'd been only ten years old (give or take — none of them knew how old they really were). For weeks, Matthias had lived in fear that he would fail the other two, that they would starve or be hurt or killed. Or captured. He could still feel the hand of the Population Police officer on his shoulder, still hear the echo of the booming voice shouting out, "You're under arrest! Those I.D.'s are fake!"

But in Population Police prison, only moments before Matthias and Percy and Alia thought they were going to be executed, a man had come to them and whispered, "I'm on your side…."

It was tempting to dwell on that moment, to hope for another miracle. But Matthias's memory backed up a little. He frowned at Percy.

"This isn't like the last time," he said slowly. "They aren't arresting us. They didn't even ask to see our I.D.'s."

As far as he knew, Matthias had never had a valid I.D. He didn't know his real name. He didn't even know if he'd been given a name before his parents, whoever they were, had abandoned him. Samuel had always told him and Percy and Alia that they were the lucky ones. They were lucky they'd been abandoned, not killed.

"There are laws in this land," Samuel had told them. "Evil laws. A woman who's had two children isn't allowed to have any more. That's why babies show up on my doorstep…."

Samuel's doorstep had been a concrete block in a dark alley. His home had been an abandoned tunnel that flooded every spring and was cold and dank year-round. But Samuel had never turned away a child, even when hiding children put his own life in danger. He'd taken them in and taught them everything he knew: how to survive on the streets; how to work for good in an evil world; how to make fake identity cards for other illegal children.

What if the Population Police no longer cared about identity cards? What if they'd figured out some other way to decide whether people had the right to live?

"That man in the dining hall said there's a new leader," Matthias said now, trying to puzzle everything out.

"Yeah, a new leader who thinks little kids don't deserve to eat," Percy snorted. "We've got to escape. Don't we have anything sharp at all?"

Hopelessly, the three of them felt around them, as if they really thought a spare knife would be lying on the floor of the truck bed. Matthias, sliding his hand along the rough wood, found only a gaping hole where the floor was broken off. Daringly, he reached down through the hole, pulling back only when he felt the breeze from the spinning tires directly below. Now it was his turn to shiver. What if Alia had fallen through this hole? What if, even now, she slid forward and dropped through it, regardless of the seat belt?

'Alia, sit back," he commanded roughly. "It's not safe over here."

"Did you get a splinter?" Alia asked.

Sometimes it was hard to remember that Alia was only six or seven, only a little kid. She'd withstood life on the streets and Population Police interrogation. But when Matthias warned her about danger, she still thought about splinters before imminent death.

"No, I'm fine," Matthias insisted, even though his mind was supplying a horrid picture of what might have hap' pened if he'd reached his arm down only a little farther, if the tires had caught it and sucked his body down and he'd been crushed beneath the wheels.

Did Percy and Alia worry about the worst possibilities as much as he did?

Hoping to clear his mind, Matthias stood halfway up, his hands searching higher and higher on the wooden wall behind him. He thought it was still dark enough that none of the Population Police would see him. He looked out over the truckload of huddled children, most of them too exhausted and terrified even to whimper now. Through the cracks in the wood, he could see the lights of the other trucks. How many? Four, five, six? All carrying dozens of children — where? And why?

"The little ones won't last a week in the work camp," the one Population Police officer had said.

Matthias's search became even more frantic. He dared to reach higher. He was rewarded with a sudden pain in his hand.

"Ow," he moaned, and pulled his hand back to rub the new wound, which was already bleeding.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"There's a nail sticking out. I cut my hand," Matthias said.

A nail. .

Matthias forgot his pain and reached up again, a little more cautiously. The point of the nail was facing him, so he had to put his hand out through the crack and work the nail out from the other side. He was scared it was stuck in the wood too tightly, scared he'd drop it even if he man' aged to pull it out. But a few seconds later, he crouched down holding the rusty, bent nail like a great treasure. It was a great treasure. A gift.

Thank you, God, he whispered silently, an old habit he'd learned from Samuel. The old man had believed every' thing good was a gift, and Matthias could remember him giving prayers of thanks for lukewarm cups of tea, wilted sprigs of flowers, even floods when they didn't reach the heights of previous years.

"Got it?" Percy asked. "Help Alia first."

Matthias turned and began sawing away at Alia's seat belt with the point of the nail. His muscles began to ache before he'd cut through even two or three threads, but he kept trying.

"Get some sleep," he told Percy and Alia. "This is going to take a while."

Obediently, the other two hunched over and seemed to slip instantly into unconsciousness. As far as Matthias could tell, all the other children were asleep now too. He felt alone, just him and his rusty nail moving back and forth, back and forth.

Matthias couldn't have said how many hours it took him to completely sever the seat belt holding Alia in place. But when he was done, he rewarded himself by rising to his knees, stretching his cramped muscles. Through the crack in the wooden wall, he could see the first glimmers of dawn on the horizon.

"Not much time left," he muttered to himself. He clutched the nail again and began attacking Percy's seat belt with renewed vigor. The three of them would need the cover of darkness if they planned to jump off the back of the truck. Matthias had a picture in his mind of exactly how their escape should go: As soon as they were all free of the seat belts, they'd move to the very back of the truck. None of the children they stepped over would wake up. Then, when the truck slowed down going around a curve — or, better yet, came to a stop at a road sign — Alia, Percy, and Matthias would roll off into the shadows. Easy as breathing, as Samuel used to say.

Tears stung at Matthias's eyes, but he wouldn't have been able to say whether they were from missing Samuel or from exhaustion and fear — fear that they'd reach the work camp before he cut through Percy's seat belt, fear that the sun would come up too soon, fear that he'd fail Percy and Alia once again. Frantically, he brushed the tears away and went back to scraping the nail against the fabric. Harder, faster, harder, faster…

Percy woke up.

"What's wrong?" he asked, as calm as ever.

"Sun's coming up, and this stupid nail — I think I could chew the belt off faster," Matthias muttered.

"Let me try," Percy said.

Matthias handed over the nail, though his hand was too stiff to unclench completely.

Percy began sliding the nail against the belt in slow, deliberate slices. Matthias couldn't stand it. He peered out through the cracks in the wooden wall again. He couldn't gauge the position of the sun now because they were driv^ ing through what appeared to be a clump of trees. Then they rounded a curve into a brief clearing, and suddenly Matthias could see far down the road, into a valley ahead. What he saw terrified him even more than the rising sun.

"Percy!" he muttered urgently. "What's a work camp look like?"

Percy looked up.

"How am I supposed to know?" he asked.

"Lots of lights, high fences, guardhouses everywhere?" Matthias asked.

"Sounds more like a prison, but — yeah, maybe," Percy replied.

"Then we're almost there!" Matthias hissed.

Percy's answer was to bend back over the nail, pressing down harder but moving no faster.

"Percy, that's no good. There's no time."

Percy didn't answer right away. Matthias had to bend in low to hear him say, "Take Alia, then. You two escape. Forget me."

"No," Matthias moaned.

The truck slowed down, navigating another curve. A missed opportunity, Matthias thought. The truck was virtually at a standstill. But he couldn't leave Percy behind. He couldn't. In a panic, he grabbed the nail from Percy's hand.

"What—?" Percy started to ask.

There wasn't time to explain. Matthias crawled away from Percy and plunged his arm down through the hole in the floor, plunged the nail into the slow>moving tire below.

At first nothing happened, and Matthias had time to agonize: How could he have been so stupid and impulsive? How could he have thrown away the nail, Percy's only chance?

Then, as the truck sped up again, there was a noise like a gunshot below them. Matthias had been hoping for just a flat tire, a slow leak that would buy them extra time. But the tire had blown out instead, bursting into shreds beneath them. The truck tilted crazily and veered off the road, as if the driver was struggling to regain control.

"Hold on!" Matthias yelled.

The truck crashed into the trees lining the road and came to a sudden stop in an explosion of breaking glass and smashing steel. It sounded like the truck had hit a wall. It sounded like the end of the world.

Then Matthias looked up and saw a huge tree falling straight toward them.