“Back to bed, young man,” Mr. Dirk said. “I appreciate your dedication to history, but studying through the night is strictly prohibited. I’m afraid I’ll have to give you—”
“I know, I know,” Luke said. “Thro demerits.”
Under Mr. Dirk’s stern gaze, Luke resignedly trudged back upstairs.
Thirty Four
Luke was overcome by guilt when he woke up the next morning. How could he have slept away so many hours? He’d had to come back to his room because Mr. Dirk was watching. But he could have sneaked out later. Why hadn’t he at least warned the others?
Some rational side of his mind argued: What good would a warning do when they couldn’t escape?
Around him, his other roommates were complaining about the exams they faced that day. One or two of them had books open on their beds and were studying as they got dressed. It seemed unreal that anyone could care about exams at a time like this.
Fearfully, Luke looked over at Jason’s bed. It was empty. The sheets were rumpled the same way they’d been last night. The pillow still held an indentation. But Jason was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Scott?” Luke asked. His voice trembled despite his best efforts to sound casual.
His question was met with blank stares.
“Don’t know,” one boy finally mumbled, and went back to studying.
At breakfast, Luke sat with Jason’s gang, but Jason was still missing. Luke peered around the table at the four boys Jason had betrayed: Antonio/Samuel, who had flashing dark eyes and a quick laugh; Denton/Travis, who knew hundreds of riddles; Sherman/Ryan, who talked with an accent Luke had never heard before; and L’atrick/’lyrone, who had once claimed he got his fake I.D. by “the luck of the Irish.” Luke couldn’t have said he really knew any of them well. But it was agony to sit there watching them eat their Cream of Wheat, making jokes, totally unaware that they were doomed. Luke tried to lean over and whisper in Patrick’s ear, “You’re in danger — I need to tell you—” But Patrick only brushed him away with the words, “Quit it, lecker. You’re bugging me.” And then all the others stared at Luke. How many of them were on Jason’s side, working for the Population Police?
Luke didn’t dare give his warning out loud.
Breakfast time slipped away, with Luke’s panic only growing. His thoughts ran in circles. He should go hide, by himself, if he couldn’t save the others. But he couldn’t just abandon the others. He had to save them. But how?
“If you’re not going to eat your breakfast, I will,” Patrick said when Luke’s was the only bowl that wasn’t empty.
Silently, Luke passed over his food.
“Hey, thanks,” Patrick said, with a huge grin. “You’re the greatest.”
If only you knew…, Luke thought miserably.
Just then, the dining hall door banged open.
“Population Police!” a booming voice called out.
Luke froze. He’d known this was coming, but it still didn’t seem possible. He tried to yell, “Run!” to Patrick and the others, but he opened his mouth and nothing came out His legs were frozen, too. He could only sit and watch and listen in horror.
A huge man stepped into the room. Medals covered his olive green uniform. He clutched a sheaf of papers in his fist.
“I have a warrant here for the arrest of illegals who have compounded their crime by the use of falsified documents,” he announced.
Luke closed his eyes, in agony. It was all over. He’d failed at everything. He hadn’t saved the others, and he hadn’t saved himself. He’d never done anything for the cause. He was going to die before he’d had a chance to accomplish a single thing.
The police officer peered at the papers in his hand. He cleared his throat.
“The sentence for those in violation of Population Law 3903 is death. The sentence for falsification of documents by an illegal citizen is death by torture, Government’s choice.”
One of the autistic boys was crying. Luke could hear him across the room. Everyone else sat in deathly silence. Luke hoped that he’d at least have the chance to apologize to the other four. The police officer continued.
“The first illegal I have come to arrest goes by the name of—”
“Relax, Stan. I found him,” someone interrupted from behind.
Luke recognized the voice. A second later, Mr. Talbot came into the room.
And behind him, with his wrists in handcuffs and his ankles in leg-irons, was Jason.
Thirty Five
The entire dining hall full of boys gasped. “He was hiding in the nurse’s office,” Mr. Talbot was saying. ‘And the other one’s over at the girls’ school. Come on. I don’t want to miss my golf game this afternoon.
‘No!” Jason roared. Even in chains, he had a commanding presence. The police officer with the chestfiil of medals turned to look at him with something like respect ‘I told you! I’m not an exnay. I can show you the exnays!”
Jason stepped forward, chains rattling. Mr. Talbot reached out to grab his arm, but the officer stopped him.
“Maybe he’s right,” the officer said. “I always love it when they betray each other. And I wouldn’t mind getting a bonus for exceeding my quota this month.”
Mr. Talbot shrugged and looked at his watch, as if all that worried him was showing up late for his tee time.
Jason hobbled slowly across the room, until he reached Luke’s table. Luke felt faint. Everyone around him seemed to be holding his breath, too.
Jason pointed.
“Him. Antonio Blanco is his real name, but he goes by Samuel Irving. Him. Denton Weathers, alias ‘h-avis Spencer. Him. Sherman Kymanski, alias Ryan Mann. Him. Patrick Kerrigan, alias Tyrone Janson.” Now Jason pointed to Luke. “And him. I don’t know his real name, but he’s pretending to be Lee Grant.” He turned back to the Population Police officer, beseechingly ‘And I know there are more. Just give me some time—’
Mr. Talbot started laughing. His guffaws rang out in the silent dining hall like bells after a funeral.
“Lee Grant an imposter? Now, that’s a good one. I’ve known Lee since he was a baby. His whole family used to celebrate Christmas with mine, back when we lived in the city. Come to think of it, I’ve got one or two of those Christmas pictures in my wallet· right now. Want to see them?” Mr. Talbot asked the police officer. He was already pulling the wallet out of his back pocket “Hey, Lee, good to see you. Come look Remember the year your parents made you wear the Santa Claus hat?”
Somehow Luke managed to make his legs carry him over to Mr. Talbot. Once before, Mr. Talbot had lied and said that he was a close personal friend of Luke’s father’s cousin. That was dangerous enough. Mr. Talbot could never back up this lie.
But the picture Mr. Talbot thrust at him was crystal clear. There was Mr. Talbot and three other adults, standing by a fireplace. Two boys that Luke recognized as Jen’s brothers — Mr. Talbot’s stepsons — sat on the hearth. And there, right between them, was Luke, in a flannel shirt and a Santa hat. Mr. Talbot even flashed the photo in front of Jason’s face.
‘But I know—” Jason fumed. “He — I mean, I’m sure of the others. I’m positive!”
“Um-hmm,” Mr. Talbot said. “I bet you just made up those names, trying to save your own skin.”
Suddenly Patrick/Tyrone spoke up.
“He is, sir. My· name is really Robert Jones.”
“I’m Michael Rystert,” Sherman/Ryan added.
The other two gave different names, too — Joel Westing and John Abbott. All four boys spoke in calm, even voices. Luke was stunned. What was going on? How could they possibly pull this off?