Sage nodded. Her hands were still sore from where she’d held the white rope. She’d never seen it, but she knew it was white—the prisoners had told her. “Positive. Things aren’t great around here. I overheard the chancellor say he was raising the vaccination age.”
“That—that’s not possible. The people wouldn’t allow it.”
“Too many attacks by the Lost Boys, he said. They’re hurting the supply, and making shortages worse. ”
“Where do they even get Indigo, anyway?”
“The Ministry of Research & Development.” Her glazed eyes stared straight ahead: she didn’t like to talk about the Ministry of R&D, but she’d talk about it with Charlie. “Headquartered in Kauai,” she continued. “They manufacture it in the labs there. It’s a long process—very labor-intensive, and there’s not much yield from what I’ve heard. Plus, demand’s always too high.”
“You lived there,” said Charlie. She must have heard the certainty in Sage’s voice. “In Kauai? That’s where you grew up, isn’t it?”
Sage nodded. It was so long ago.
“That’s where I grew up, too.”
“But the guards said you were from Moku Lani.”
“The Feds moved me to H.E.A.L. after my parents passed. That’s where I met Kai. He used to visit the kids there with his mom, Mrs. B. They’d bring in gifts for kids on their birthdays. His mom loved birthdays. Mine was only a week after I first got there.”
“Who’s Kai?”
“No one,” Charlie said quickly. “Just this—friend. Well… I mean… you know?” She sucked in a breath. “He’s just a really good friend.”
Sage leaned against the bed. “Do you think he’d be my friend, too?”
“Of course,” Charlie said, laughing. “Kai would be lucky to have you as a friend. You’d both be lucky. He’s a great friend.”
Sage sat on the bed, and felt the rope brush against her ankles. “I’ve been thinking about how to escape,” she said. “And I’ve realized, there really is only one way to get out.”
“With the rope?”
Sage nodded. “Around your neck.”
Charlie swallowed hard. “I was afraid of that.”
“But we can fake it,” Sage said, grasping Charlie’s hands. “We can make them think you’re dead. I could carry you down the hall in a body bag, and then, once we’re out of sight, we can run away. They won’t figure out we’re missing until it’s too late. I can get us out of the Light House, and then you can get us the rest of the way. Back to home.”
“In Kauai?” asked Charlie.
“There’s still rainforest left there,” said Sage, nodding. “They’d never find us.”
“You really think it would work?”
“Of course it will.” She hoped Charlie wouldn’t hear the uncertainty in her voice.
Deep down, she wasn’t sure at all. But now, since they’d made her bring the rope to the cell, she knew it was the only option. Things were about to get much worse for Charlie. Starvation was nothing. The things that were in store for her now…
Sage had brought the rope to cell fourteen last week. Sometimes the screams echoed into the hallway late into the night. Minister Zane visited that prisoner twice a day now. Sage was allowed to bring food to a cell again whenever that happened—when they moved on to real torture. Because at that point, they wanted to make sure the prisoner stayed alive. Or at least, that they could only die by choice.
“I’ll try to stop back again before two days’ time,” Sage said, standing. “I can’t be in here much longer, or Cook will come looking for me.”
“Wait,” said Charlie. “Are you sure you have to go?”
Sage nodded, but an unfamiliar feeling burned in her chest. It was a new experience—the thought that someone wanted her there. “One of the guards will be by tomorrow,” she said. “He’ll tie the rope above your bed.”
Sage felt Charlie wrap her arms around her, and her heart lifted from her chest. She felt joy. It was strange after so much despair. When she left, she turned the key in the lock, then practically skipped to the end of the hall.
It was a good day. They’d all been good days since she’d met Charlie.
But her joy betrayed her, and Sage, usually so cautious, didn’t notice the man standing in the hall—the man who’d been standing outside Charlie’s cell door. Sage hadn’t heard the heavy breathing of a man still fuming; a man who’d heard their entire plan.
Chapter 22
I bit down hard on the regulator and sucked in another breath of cold, compressed air. Scuba diving, they’d called it as we’d been suited up with the gear. In the old days, people wore all this stuff to breathe underwater—the only way they had of exploring the ocean depths.
Now the Caravan used it as a test of strength and mental resilience—a test everyone had to pass before they were allowed aboard. Over the years, the Caravan had seen many castaways, and they couldn’t take them all. So they only took in those people who could contribute to the movement—whatever “the movement” was, exactly. The test we were about to undergo would determine our ability to contribute. If we didn’t pass, we died. It was that simple.
Rule number one of scuba diving, the man who’d helped us suit up said, is don’t hold your breath. That was a hard rule for me to follow. After all, we were only going down eighty feet. I’d dived this deep many times before on a single breath from the cliffs of Moku Lani. That’s how most of them die, he’d explained. The compressed air expands in your lungs as you surface. Forget to exhale and—pop! You’ve lost a lung. And there’s no room on the Caravan for people with only one lung. The Medical Bay’s pressed enough as it is.
The metal cage they lowered us down in was even more surprising. The cage was for our protection, they’d told us. In the past, sharks had attacked too many men during the test. Of course, the cage wouldn’t do a thing against the megalodons. So if you cut your finger on the way down… well, the Caravan cut you loose and left. It couldn’t afford to be caught near a feeding frenzy.
The crank groaned as we descended farther into the water. I sucked in a breath from the regulator, watching as bubbles burst from its sides when I exhaled. It seemed like a horribly inefficient way to breathe underwater. The ReBreathers we now used seemed so much more advanced.
Mila grabbed my hand. I flashed her an OK sign, and she nodded and did the same. I was glad for her company—it had been her first time on the Caravan too, and at Phoenix’s suggestion, they’d allowed us to do the test together.
The Caravan’s fog plates rested eighty feet below the surface, and—having been crafted from stainless steel, among other things—were constantly in need of a good polish. Without it, they’d never last forever. I couldn’t imagine doing the polishing alone; it would be hard even with two people.
In Federal waters, the whole process wouldn’t have been a big issue. People could dive down in the open and polish the plates without much thought. But outside Federal waters… well, things were different. The slightest cut or the smallest scratch could cost someone their life. Any hint of blood, and the megalodons would be upon you—and when that happened, you were dead. One of the Caravites had even advised against peeing in the water. Too close to blood, I guessed.
The Caravan had used the plates heavily, and they were in dire need of a good polish. The Caravites couldn’t afford to let them rust. They were frankly lucky we had arrived as first-timers; otherwise, they would have had to risk the lives of their own men rather than “test” some strangers.
We had until our oxygen ran out to complete the polishing. If we failed to finish the set of plates by then, we would be deemed unfit to join the Caravan. Each new Caravite was a new mouth to feed, and they could only afford so many crazy fishermen like Churchill. Those who were deemed unfit were left, abandoned, floating in open water. A death sentence, in their minds. If you couldn’t pull your weight below the water, the Caravites doubted you could above.