“We don’t know it’s Kai. It could be any boy and his father.”
“If they’re following him, it means he’s still alive.”
Will nodded.
“But if he’s alive and they learn that we know him, then we’re in danger,” I whispered.
“We’re already in danger.”
“Why can’t the army rescue us?” By now the RGs had surely reviewed the security logs and would be looking for us. I would gladly take being arrested over being killed.
Will shook his head. “They won’t cross the border. You know that.”
The lower republics would not risk war with Minnesota over two missing children—not when they were already at war with the Empire of Canada and the Arctic Archipelago. Although Minnesota was technically neutral, the republics depended on it for fresh water. They would do nothing to upset that delicate balance. By crossing the border, we had lost all hope of rescue.
We stared out the front window, watching the pirates gathering inside the circle of trucks. Someone had made a fire, and breakfast was cooking. The salty, smoky smell of something frying in a pan drifted into the front cab. My stomach grumbled. I realized I had not eaten since breakfast the day before. I was famished. Will, too, sniffed eagerly.
Ulysses gestured for us to get out of the truck. I hesitated until he made an eating motion: cupping one hand and putting it to his mouth. Then I scrambled from the seat and jumped to the ground. Will followed.
“Hungry?” Ulysses asked when I reached him.
I didn’t wait for a second question. I took the first plate offered.
The food was delicious. Ulysses said it was real bacon, grown on a real farm. I had never eaten real bacon before and licked my plate clean. Growing animals was expensive and dangerous, and it was only permitted by government license. It was a waste of resources, the government said, water that could be put to better use. Yet somehow WABs managed to provide meat at their own tables.
I noticed the bald pirate who had first spoken to us in the truck. His name was Ali, and he called out to me as I passed with a plate of seconds. He wore a kev-jacket and a long scarf loosely wrapped around his neck. When I approached he smiled widely. “Not so frightened anymore, are we, missy?” he asked.
It was true that I found him friendly and even humorous, but I couldn’t help thinking the pirates were taking us away from our parents to a place from which we might not return. The pirates were nice to us now, but Will and I were still prisoners, not free to leave or go our own way. I waved to him and moved on.
The pirates spent the rest of the morning preparing the trucks, unloading and reloading materials. They were skilled mechanics; small clusters of men worked under the chassis or on the engines. Gasoline-powered vehicles were rare and temperamental, although they could out-haul anything electric. In a pinch, they could be rigged to burn siphoned bio-gas from a generator while the electrical grid was unreliable and often unavailable. This was why our father had bought our pedicycles which, I remembered sadly, were now abandoned hundreds of kilometers behind us on the road.
The way the pirates squeezed their supplies into the trucks was like a feat of magic. Not only were there weapons and explosives, but cans of food, fabric, blankets, clothing, shoes, electrical parts, tools, spare tires, oxygen, medicine, carbon blocks, nails, salt, chlorine, and iodine. There were even boxes of real beer which Ulysses would not let us near because, he claimed, it was worth more than everything else combined. In short they had all they needed for a prolonged journey or extended siege. “Be prepared,” said Ulysses. “That’s our motto.”
It seemed to be a silly motto, but Ulysses looked deadly serious as he hauled boxes into the back of the truck. The sweat shone on his brow despite the morning chill, and muscles flexed beneath his shirt. I tried to lift a box to help, but it was too heavy, so I occupied myself by gathering the small things the pirates had overlooked. Cheetah followed me everywhere I went, and I quickly learned to distinguish her from her sister, because Cheetah’s fur had flecks of black mixed in with the gold, she was smaller than Pooch, and her left ear flopped to one side. She even let me pet her and growled contentedly. It was hard to believe this was the same animal that had pursued us on the road, and it made me wonder whether I had been wrong to fear her at all.
Will wandered off to watch two pirates repair an axle, and before long he was scampering beneath the wheels and following their directions.
By noon the trucks were reorganized in an arrangement known only to the pirates. Nothing looked different, yet everything was in a new place. Ulysses gave the signal, and the men climbed into their vehicles. Will joined me in the front seat of the truck. Cheetah and Pooch squeezed into the small compartment behind us.
“The men are getting ready for a battle,” said Will.
“How do you know?”
“They told me.”
I didn’t believe it, although Will seemed sure. When I asked Ulysses, he just grunted. “Pirates are always prepared for battle,” he said. He wouldn’t say anything more.
“Didn’t you notice?” said Will. “Their tankers are empty. They’re going to steal what they can’t buy.”
“Pirates don’t steal,” said Ulysses. “We make offers people can’t refuse.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means they steal,” said Will.
Ulysses smiled.
If there was going to be a battle, I didn’t want to be in the middle of it. The Minnesotans—or whomever the pirates were meeting—would not give up their water without a fight. Although I didn’t understand the politics, I was certain the pirates couldn’t just drive into a republic, pay off the border guards, steal water, and drive out again. But that’s exactly what it appeared they were doing.
And what did it all have to do with Kai? If they were following him with empty tankers, he must be somewhere near water—maybe even the secret river. But that meant he was in the hands of the Minnesotans, which didn’t make much sense. Surely the Minnesotans didn’t need another driller; they got enough water from the Canadians and still had access to underground lakes. Crossing the border to kidnap two people was an international violation and an act of war. I couldn’t imagine why the Minnesotans would take that risk. Suddenly I was very scared.
I found Will’s hand and gripped it tightly. He squeezed back, and for a while that was all I needed.
By late afternoon the landscape had changed. Where there had been dust, dirt, and debris, there were now the faintest signs of civilization: a concrete bunker with smoke rising from a chimney; an electric car that wasn’t rusted or broken; roads that were nearly smooth; and the most telling sign of all—patches of green.
“They’re growing,” said Will, his voice hushed and awestruck.
Except for photos of Basin and the occasional hardy plant or backyard scrub, we rarely saw anything green that wasn’t painted on or in a hydro-vault. But here it looked as if people had water to spare. Green things sprouted up in no particular pattern, almost as if no one cared where they grew.
“It’s grass,” Ulysses explained. “They feed it to the cattle.”
“They have cattle?” Will asked in a whisper.
“How do you think they get meat?”
“But…” Will’s voice trailed off. Such riches were unimaginable. Flowing water, grass, and cattle—it was as if someone said that gold paved the streets and diamonds were in the hills.
Then in the distance, I saw our destination. It loomed in front of us like a gigantic wall that stretched the length of an entire city. It was perfectly flat, yet seemingly endless, with nothing rising behind it, as if no one dared peer over the top. I had never seen such a thing, but I knew from the wireless that it was a giant dam holding back billions of liters of fresh water—water that might normally have flowed south to the border and maybe even to our home. Minnesota was the land of ten thousand dams, and its government often boasted that it had more dams per person than any other country in the world. I knew that the largest dam in the world was in the Arctic Straits, owned by Canada but claimed by the Arctic Archipelago. Someday, if the war ever ended, whoever controlled it would control ten percent of the world’s fresh water.