Broken Angel (7 page)

TEN

B
ack and forth,” Theo said, his head cocked as he listened intently. “Across the valley. Each pass brings them closer to us. Three sets of hounds. Maybe four.”

Caitlyn and Theo had found an overlook that still shielded them from view of the men climbing down the rock face behind them, at the head of the valley.

“What are the dogs’ names?” Caitlyn said.

“How in the world could I tell that from what I’m hearing?” Theo said.

“It’s a joke, skunk boy. You seem to know so much else about them.” The words felt bitter on her tongue. She knew she was being unnecessarily cruel to him, trying to find an outlet for her grief.

“Oh, very funny. Do you find it funny that they are squeezing us in? Unless we figure out a way to fly.”

Unless we figure out a way to fly.
Caitlyn shivered at the thought.

“If we time it right,” Theo said, “we can slip past the dogs and end up safely on the other side of them.”

“No,” Caitlyn answered. “The dogs will cross my scent. They’ll know it’s fresh. And I have no doubt that I’m the one they want, not you.”

“At the factory, everyone said all you have to do is walk through water to lose the dogs.”

“Wrong. In pools, the scent stays on top of the water,” Caitlyn said. “Where the scent is broken up by fast water, they’ll send teams up and down both sides of the creek until they find where we stepped out again.”

She knew this because Papa had explained everything about bloodhounds to her. They’d been on the run from Mason Lee for three days, but it wasn’t until the final two days that Mason was able to put bloodhounds on the trail. That’s when it was over. Papa had used every trick possible, but all it had done was slow the hounds.

“Okay, then. What if you climb a tree and cross over to another tree, branch to branch, and keep going until you are far enough away?”

“Skunk boy, you can’t see well enough to count your own fingers. Think you’ll make it up the first tree without falling?”

“You do it,” he said. “Leave me here. If you can get away, you should. Better that one of us makes it Outside than neither.”

He sounded so pathetic yet brave that Caitlyn felt her first twinge of affection for him. “Have something to eat.”

She found an energy bar in her backpack and gave it to the boy.

His hands shook so rapidly as he attempted to tear open the wrapping that she sighed, took the bar from him, opened it, and handed it back.

“Besides,” Theo continued, barely understandable because he’d crammed so much into his mouth, “you said they were looking for you, not me. I’ll hide in the valley and eat more crawfish and worms. That’s better than going back to the factory.”

His words echoed.
“You said they were looking for you, not me.”

This was true. Papa explained how bloodhounds follow a trail. The bounty hunters give them a piece of clothing that belonged to the fugitive. The hounds follow only that scent. No other scent distracts them.

Theo had given her a way out.
“You said they were looking for you, not me.”

Theo gulped down the rest of the bar and waited for her answer.

Caitlyn thought there might be another way out of the valley. Unfortunately, it meant she would have to trust her life to a nearly blind skunk boy.

ELEVEN

S
heriff Carney leaned back in his office chair, staring at his computer screen. That’s the way his vision was going these days; he couldn’t see anything unless he held it at arm’s length or more.

He’d already enlarged to maximum size the icons that represented file folders, and that didn’t help much either, unless he put on his glasses. But then he’d have to worry about taking them off in a hurry if someone stepped through the door. He wasn’t going to betray the slightest hint of weakness in this town.

Now the fugitive was dead, already taken away by the undertaker. But the Outside agent remained in town, and the search was still on for the girl. If Carney could find the girl, things would get back to normal.

Carney tapped an icon on the screen. He was old enough to know that there’d been a time when people used keyboards to command the computer. Now it was icons only, symbols that represented computer actions or files. Keyboards were useful only for those who could read. Multimedia helped curb the need for literacy, making everything simpler. Just tap the right icon, and information was delivered by sight—moving images or still photos—or by sound. Easy and effective. Complete comprehension, without reading.

Input for computers was delivered the same way. Personal vidpods recorded visual and audio information, if needed. It was just a matter of uploading whatever was in the vidpod on to the computer, or vice versa.

Outside, as Bar Elohim always preached, unlimited computer access could lead to all sorts of evils—sedition and pornography at the top of the list. Inside Appalachia, however, all computers were consistently linked to the government mainframe, and personal computers were personal but not private. Bar Elohim and his representatives effectively monitored and managed the hard-drive content throughout Appalachia. Bar Elohim kept people free from temptation and instead made sure they were linked to the right information, the kind they needed. Before Carney’s time, people who were caught trying to get past the Internet block to access the Web Outside were sent to the factories. Now, cybersecurity was impossible to break; Appalachia was a locked system.

This morning, Carney had logged in to the town’s mainframe, interested in the routine video surveillance that the town’s hard drive stored for five years. Cameras were interspersed through town at strategic locations, ensuring very few blind spots. They deterred crime and made it easier to solve, on the rare occasion it took place.

Carney had been searching the video surveillance for the face of the man whom Dr. Ross had declared dead. Now the man could only be found immortalized in electronic bytes, but it was Carney’s job to find him there too.

The night before, as local law, Carney had been obliged to provide a place for the fugitive. In the process, he had seen the man’s face up close.

Carney’s ability to remember a face was strong, and he knew he’d seen the man before, a day or two before the arrival of Mason Lee and the Outside agent, but he couldn’t place the when and where.

It didn’t matter. In Cumberland Gap, he had the public surveillance cameras to help.

Carney thought through the past week, the places he’d visited. That would winnow down the amount of surveillance video he’d have to review.

Icon by icon, Carney went through different times and locations. He had no sense of impatience. Billy was out of the way, and it would be worth Carney’s effort to confirm the fugitive had been in town and whom he had visited.

Carney wondered when Bar Elohim would make it law that everyone in Appalachia have radio-chip implants. The chips were about the size of a grain of rice and held enough computer information to store the person’s background and medical information, but most importantly, to track them electronically. The mainframe could keep record of every person’s movement over the last year. But Bar Elohim knew, obedient as Appalachians were, that this could spark rebellion, even beyond the actions of the Clan. God’s Word, after all, plainly showed that this would be the mark of the Beast. So the radio chips were restricted to convicted criminals and the children of criminals, the factory kids.

Public surveillance cameras were the next best thing. It took Carney only half an hour to find Jordan. There, in front of the bank, just two afternoons earlier.

Yes, that’s where he had seen that face.

The video showed Carney stepping out of the bank, just as the man walked down the sidewalk. On the video, Carney watched himself quickly appraise the man and the man ducking his head after noticing Carney’s uniform.

Got you.

Now it was easy. Carney could backtrack the man to another surveillance camera and pick up that footage. From that surveillance camera to the previous one. And so on.

Carney reviewed the videos until he found the time and place that the man had stepped into town alone. Then he watched as the fugitive approached the house. Mitch Evans’s house. The livery owner.

Carney rocked his chair in satisfaction. The Outside agent was looking for a girl, and Carney now had an idea where to set the trap if she slipped past them.

If he was the one to catch her, it would be worth it.

The bigger question was why she’d be worth so much.

TWELVE

A
t the head of the valley, Mason Lee stood at the foot of a thin waterfall, which fell from a stream about a hundred feet above. Through the water’s veil, Mason could see just well enough to glimpse a small cavern—the only possible refuge for a woman who surely knew she had been trapped. The bloodhounds had tracked her scent to here and blocked all avenues of escape. Mason pictured the girl shivering in fear, making her way down the rock face to the cavern, hoping for safety.

But there was no way to climb back up. Mason was certain: she could only be there, hidden by the water.

He stood just beyond the spray, all the men in his hire behind him. They knew procedure. Mason was always the one to make the final capture.

One of the men had his vidpod in video recording mode and extended it chest high for an unimpeded view of Mason. This was procedure too. The capture would be uploaded for Bar Elohim to distribute to all vidpods in Appalachia, showing everyone that it was useless to defy God and Bar Elohim. Mason liked the publicity, cementing the perception that no one ever escaped him. He’d always wait until the recording was finished to take his private, bloody revenge on the fugitives.

Aware that his next actions would be in full view of Appalachia, Mason Lee held the stock of his shotgun and flipped the front end upward to snap it shut. He aimed the shotgun at the waterfall.

“Come on out,” he shouted. “There’s no place to go.”

This would look good, the girl stepping out from the curtain of water, drenched and pitiful. Where and when he’d gut her he hadn’t decided yet, but there would be plenty of time between now and the return to Cumberland Gap to make it look as if she’d tried to escape. Mason knew there was no bounty hunter alive who would be able to find him once he had the canister. He wouldn’t mind shooting a couple of his own men to make his escape with the canister even easier.

“Come on out,” he shouted again. “Otherwise I’ll send the dogs in.”

The bloodhounds were anxious, of course. Once they started on a trail, they were obsessive and would never quit. They simply needed the reward of finding the fugitive to settle them down.

The Rottweilers, on the other hand, wanted blood. This suited Mason. He wouldn’t even need the excuse of an attempted escape to harvest the girl.

The girl did not leave the waterfall.

Mason looked back over his right shoulder, knowing the vidpod would record this. He didn’t turn his head far enough to get both eyes in view. He didn’t like having his drifting left eye on every vidpod in Appalachia.

“Send the dogs!” Mason ordered.

The dogs needed no urging. Six of them. Black Rottweilers. Massive shoulders. Bone-snapping jaws. They bolted toward the waterfall, snarling and howling.

Mason felt a tingle of anticipation as he waited for the screams to come.

Instead, the snarls and howling faded. Moments later, the dogs emerged and shook water from their hides before dancing around in confused circles at the base of the waterfall.

Impossible.
Black anger bubbled within him.
How could the girl have escaped?

THIRTEEN

M
rs. Shelton is dead and the books are gone.” Carney spoke to Billy in his usual monotone, staring hard at him.

“She’s dead!”

“Dr. Ross did all he could.” There was nothing gentle in Carney’s voice. “We needed her to tell us who she’d been teaching to read. Where she’d gotten the books. We needed those books to send to Bar Elohim so he could understand what was getting loose in Cumberland Gap and tell us how best to protect the flock.”

Billy kept his eyes on the ground. Yes, he’d failed. When he set the old woman on the ground, she was already unconscious. Must have been from the pills on the bathroom floor. And the fire was too big to contain. Everyone in town knew it was his fault. Most would blame it on how he was raised. Without parents to properly guide him.

“I’ve got to send an audio file on this to Bar Elohim,” Carney said. “I’m going to make sure that I take part of the blame. Had I foreseen that she was evil enough and unrepentant enough to take her life and destroy her house, I wouldn’t have sent you on your own. You’ll keep your deputy badge.”

Billy didn’t lift his gaze from the ground. Carney might see his disappointment that he was to remain deputy. Billy hated himself that Mrs. Shelton was dead, and he didn’t want to be burdened with any more responsibilities of a deputy. Other things would go bad too.

“Still,” Carney said, “I can’t pretend you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re going to be spending nights in the office, watching the livery for me.”

“Sir?” Billy said.

“Surveillance camera. Anything happens after curfew, you call me right away. Can you handle that?”

Billy gave it thought. He could tell Carney didn’t like that, but Billy didn’t want to say he could handle it if there was something about it that would make it difficult for him.

“Will you let me know where I can call you?”

“Of course I’ll let you know where I am,” Carney snapped. “That goes without saying.”

Billy wished, as usual, that he knew what went without saying and what didn’t.

“All night?” Billy asked.

“Unless you think there’s a particular time that the building doesn’t need watching.”

That perplexed Billy.

Carney sighed. “Of course, all night.”

“By myself?”

“It only takes one person to watch a computer screen.”

“Um, sir,” Billy paused again in thought. At church, when the sermon was boring or confusing, Billy usually fought off sleep. Not always successfully. He didn’t want to promise he could stay up all night if he’d end up breaking his word. “I don’t know if I can stay awake that long.”

Carney started to form furrows in his forehead, the way he did whenever he broke out of his monotone in anger. Then, strangely, he smiled.

“Sometimes,” Carney said, “I guess it pays to think things through. There’s a cot in one of the empty jail cells. Get some sleep. All afternoon if you need it.”

“That would help a lot, sir.”

“All right then.” Carney put a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Do this right and we’ll forget about your trouble with Mrs. Shelton.”

“We’ve gone far enough,” Caitlyn told Theo. “You must be ready to drop.”

“No,” Theo said. “I’m going to make sure you’re safe. Besides, you’re not nearly as heavy as I expected.”

Caitlyn hadn’t heard a peep from Theo over the last mile as he hiked through the streambed and then a hundred yards across an open grassy area. Caitlyn liked the silence. The skunk smell was still hard to get used to though. She guessed that at that point, she probably smelled like skunk too.

She was riding him piggyback, to avoid leaving a scent for the bloodhounds. When the hounds crossed Theo’s pungent scent, they’d ignore it.

Although she weighed very little, she was still impressed with Theo’s strength and ruggedness. He’d carried her on his back. Theo had gamely splashed through water and across rocks and over logs. Anything so that Caitlyn’s body would not brush against anything and leave a scent for the bloodhounds. He had even, at one point, set her down in rapid water and let her hobble forward, because the current would dissipate her scent. Caitlyn could tell he was also thankful for the moment of rest, knowing that he would carry her again. The tricky part came as they had approached the lines of hounds, but they had used Theo’s keen sense of hearing to wait until the hounds had traversed away from the stream before hurrying through the gap.

Caitlyn had also depended on Theo’s endurance and developed a grudging admiration for him. He hadn’t complained, just stuck with his duty like a mule.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn said. She said nothing more until they reached the trees at the far edge of the grass. “Here, this big oak is what we need.” She relished the relative coolness of the shade. “Stand close.”

Chances were extremely remote that the bloodhounds would find this exact tree. Still, to keep her scent from the ground, Caitlyn reached up and pulled herself onto a low limb without letting any of her body brush against the trunk. She straddled the limb and reached downward for Theo’s hands, then helped him up.

“You’ll need to climb higher,” she said. “Up where no one would think of looking.”

“I’m afraid,” Theo said. “I can’t see where I’m going.”

“I’ll stay below you,” Caitlyn answered. She noticed his arm was bleeding through the place where it was wrapped with cloth. Again, her admiration grew. Her legs must have been putting pressure on the wound, but he hadn’t once complained.

She helped him climb halfway up the tree.

“Now what?” Theo asked.

“We wait until tonight.” She’d already learned to trust Theo’s hearing. Because of it, they’d have enough warning to slip down the tree and run if anyone approached. “Sleep as much as we can.”

“Sleep? I’ll fall!” Her stoic rescuer was suddenly a boy again.

“Not if we are tied in.”

She reached for the coil of thin nylon rope in her backpack. She put it through his belt loops and around the tree trunk and made sure he was secure. She did the same for herself with the other half of the rope.

The bark of the tree was warm and felt almost pleasant in the dappled shade of the leaves. She felt comfortable, except for the distant baying of the hounds, an acute reminder of the fate they could expect if they were captured.

“What was that?” Theo’s whisper sounded frightened. “I heard something. Not the dogs…more like footsteps.”

His fear was contagious. Caitlyn craned her head.

“There it is again.” He pointed. “Can you see anything over there?”

In the direction of Theo’s gesture, shadows were moving and Caitlyn’s heart hammered, her skin prickling with adrenaline. But as she carefully gazed ahead, she realized the shape was a deer, followed by two fawns.

“It’s all right,” she said. “Deer.”

The adrenaline faded. She glumly consoled herself that if anyone had followed them, they would have already arrived at the base of the tree.

“Wish I had something to shoot it with. Ever eaten deer before?”

“Go to sleep.”

“I know you don’t want me with you,” Theo said. “I’m all right with that.”

“Sleep.”

“No, really. If I were you, I would lie to me too. I’d tell me that you were going to help me Outside, but then find a time to run away from me. People don’t like me. I talk too much.”

“Sleep.” Caitlyn wanted to deny his accusation, but it would have compounded her guilt to blatantly lie. About the need to leave him. And about his ability to irritate.

“I understand,” Theo said. “It’s because I’m weird. A freak. It’s not only because I talk too much. I can’t help my weird thoughts either. Like with double numbers.”

She couldn’t resist. And it was a better direction than the subject of abandoning him when it was necessary. “Double numbers?”

“Like four and nine and sixteen. See, two times two is four. Three times three is nine. Double twos and double threes and double fours and so on. It helps me go to sleep at night, trying to imagine the highest double number I can. Like 123 times 123. That’s how far I got last night. 15,129. And sometimes I figure backwards. Start with a number and see what double number makes it.”

“Square roots,” Caitlyn said.

“This tree?”

Despite herself, Caitlyn laughed. “No. It’s not called a double number. Three is the square root of nine.”

“Other people think about this too?” Theo sounded excited.

“Papa taught me.” He had spent hours and hours teaching her mathematics.
Papa.
To her, that single word had always meant love. Now, it meant betrayal.

“What about numbers that can’t be taken apart by other numbers?” Theo asked. “Like seven. Or seventeen. A number that can only be divided by itself and by one. The biggest that I can figure out so far is 937. That was last night too. It’s hard work, but it keeps me from feeling sorry for myself.”

“Those are called prime numbers.”

“You know this?”

“I learned it.”

“So other people
do
think about this stuff! Maybe I’m not so weird. Can you teach me more?”

“Maybe,” Caitlyn said.

“It’d be nice if you did. And I’d like stay with you, but I really don’t expect you to help me get Outside.”

“How did you hurt your arm?” Caitlyn asked, remembering the fresh blood that gleamed at the edges of the wrap around his arm.

“It feels hot under the bandage,” Theo said. “Not like from the sun. I hope it doesn’t get worse. But even if it gets worse, I won’t regret it. I would rather be dead than live in the factory anymore. Not much difference as they just want you to work to death anyway. And you can’t even think there or talk. But I
have
to think. I
have
to talk. I have to talk about what I think.”

“I’m beginning to understand that,” Caitlyn said, letting out a small laugh despite herself.

“If you leave me, just don’t do it when I’m asleep in this tree.” Theo’s voice sounded drowsy. “I don’t know if I can climb down without falling.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. She’d have to leave him, sooner than later. But she didn’t want to think about it.

He yawned. “Oh, and I didn’t explain…it’s where the radio chip was—”

“Chip?” Caitlyn said. It was hard to follow Theo’s train of thought.

“You asked me how I hurt my arm. Factory kids have radio chips embedded in our muscles to keep track of us. I had to dig it out with a knife, otherwise I never would have escaped.”

Caitlyn looked up at Theo as if seeing him for the first time. He’d cut through his own skin and muscle? She didn’t know what to say.

“You’re a girl, right? You’re too soft and your voice is beautiful. How old are you? Where were you born?”

Unwanted, haunting words from Papa’s letter came back to her.
“But in the motel room that was our home, the woman I loved died while giving birth. You were a tiny bundle of silent and alert vulnerability and all that remained to remind me of the woman.”

A girl? She turned her face away from Theo. She was a freak, with men hunting her for reasons she didn’t know. Self-pity and anger threatened to wash over her, but stronger was the image of Theo so determined to escape that he’d cut into his arm with a knife, of Theo falling asleep afraid and doing numbers in his head to keep from feeling sorry for himself.

“I was born Outside,” Caitlyn answered. She expected this would lead to a deluge of questions.

But when she looked up to catch his expression, she saw Theo had leaned into the tree trunk and his eyes were closed. Asleep. She watched him stir briefly, and he mumbled one last thing. “Nine hundred and forty-one…”

After a moment, she allowed herself a slight smile. The next prime number after 937: 941.