Among the Imposters

Twenty Seven

Luke had his hand inches from the phone when Jason’s words registered: “. . I work for the Population Police.” Luke’s hand and arm kept going, even though his mind was suddenly frozen. He watched his hand as if it belonged to someone else. His fingers grasped the phone, jerked it out of Jason’s grip, and threw it to the ground. Then someone’s foot — no, Luke’s foot, acting as independently as his hand — stomped on it.

Jason whirled around.

“You!” he spat.

Luke’s frozen mind was struggling to thaw. Strange facts were emerging from the ice. Jason worked for the Population Police. That’s why he hadn’t cared about using a portable phone. He wasn’t organizing subversive activity against the Government. He was turning in the exnays.

“You’re an informer,” Luke whispered.

Jason’s eyes narrowed, calculatingly. Luke instantly saw his mistake. Why hadn’t he played dumb? He could have pretended he hadn’t heard Jason’s last sentence. He could have acted hurt that Jason was leaving him out. He could have begged for a dangerous assignment.

It wouldn’t have been too hard to act dumb. Until two seconds ago, he had been.

“Now, Lee,” Jason said cautiously. He seemed to be trying to decide how to play things. Was Luke going to get, “Oh, don’t be silly. What would make you think that? Why would I turn anybody in when I’m an exnay, too?” Or, “So you know the truth. That’s it. You’re dead”?

Jason took a step toward Luke. Luke clutched his history textbook like a shield. Jason came even closer.

And then, without thinking, Luke whipped the book out and swung it at Jason’s head with all his might.

Jason crumpled. Knocked sideways, he tried desperately to regain his balance. Luke swung again.

This time, Jason fell backwards. His head hit the stairs with a loud thunk. His body rolled down to the landing.

He didn’t move.