“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.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The truck landed on its side with enough force that the windshield shattered. Trey sat still, absolutely stunned, for several seconds, then unfastened his seat belt and shimmied out through the gaping hole in front of him.
Mark hadn’t had a seat belt His cage hadn’t even been anchored down.
The mob had flowed around to the front of the truck, but nobody seemed to notice Trey escaping.
"An apple core!” somebody screamed. Trey’s must have fallen out onto the dirt by the side of the road. The whole crowd gathered around and seemed to be fighting over what little flesh still remained around the seeds.
Trey slipped around toward the back, and, in the darkness, practically tripped over Mark’s overturned cage. He felt around inside the bars, even though he was terrified that he might find only a dead body.
"Mark?” he called. “Mark?”
“Over here,” a voice called behind him.
Trey rushed over to a huge rock beside the road. Mark was crouched there.
“How—?” Trey couldn’t make himself understand. “What happened? Why aren’t you in the cage?”
“Cage busted open when it hit the ground,” Mark whispered.
“Really? That’s great!” Trey said, not even fazed by the wacky grammar of “busted open.” It seemed downright miraculous that the mob had actually helped them.
“Yeah,” Mark said. “But my leg busted open too.”
Trey reached down, his fingers brushing sticky blood.
“Don’t,” Mark said. “I think the bone’s poking out a little. You probably shouldn’t touch it.”
“People with open fractures aren’t supposed to be moved,” Trey remembered from a phase when his dad had had him memorize all sorts of first aid information.
“What was I supposed to do — lie there and let those people trample me?” Mark hissed. He winced, and for the first time Trey realized that Mark was in intense pain.
“We should wrap it until we can get you to a doctor,” Trey said.
“Uh-huh,” Mark said, grimacing. They eased Mark’s arms out of his flannel shirt, and wrapped the shirt around Mark’s leg. But this was crazy — how would they ever get him to a doctor?
“You go on,” Mark said through gritted teeth. “Go get Luke before it’s too late.”
“But—,” They started to argue.
“You’ll have to walk from here,” Mark said. “I don’t think it’s much farther.”
They stared out at the mob, still swarming around the truck. They’d discovered the knapsack now, and were fighting over it like a bunch of wild animals. How long before they decided to come looking for Mark and Trey?
Trey looked down again at his injured friend. The choice before him now was not between cowardice and bravery. Whether he stayed to take care of Mark or left to rescue Lee and his other friends — as well as the guard’s mysterious prisoner — Trey would need immense courage. How was he supposed to choose?
“Go,” Mark moaned.
“No,” Trey said. He looked back and forth between Mark and the mob again. “Just a minute.”
He took his Population Police shirt off and dropped it beside Mark. Then he stepped out from behind the rock and joined the mob.
“Gimme some! Gimme some!” he snarled, just like the others were doing. He pushed and shoved, reaching toward the backpack.
A boy beside him — also shirtless — glanced toward Trey but said nothing, only elbowed him out of the way.
“Wait! Wait! It rolled under the truck!” Trey screamed.