Margaret Haddix: Among the Free

But I was with other people — Officer Houk and the driver and the other hoy. Luke had not let himself wonder what they'd done after he dropped the gun and ran. In his mind, the scene in the village of Chiutza had frozen the minute he left, like in some magical fairy tale. It was almost as if he believed he could wander back into the village now and still find the gun on the ground, the old lady standing straight and tall and defiant, the crowd with their mouths open in little circles of horror and disbelief, Officer Houk leaning against the jeep, holding the radio, his eyes pop' ping out of his head. But of course that was wrong — something had happened after Luke ran away. Somebody had fired a gun, and a lot of somebodies had been firing a lot of guns since then. Luke couldn't go back and cower in his cave again without finding out who and what and how and why.

Grimacing, Luke stood up and began inching forward again. After a few paces, he could hear the voices again— not actual words, exactly, but he could catch the tone of triumph and glee. He turned and followed the voices at a distance, trying to tread as silently as possible. He didn't think that occasional snapping twigs or rustling leaves would alert anyone, but each sound was enough to send him back into a panic anyway. It was all he could do to force himself to keep going.

Jen, you were lucky, he thought, wanting to argue with a ghost again. You planned your actions; you were in charge; you didn't have to deal with any mysteries.

But of course that wasn't true, because Jen hadn't known what would happen at her rally. She hadn't been able to control the other third children who were sup-posed to go to the rally with her. She'd had no second sight, no special knowledge to protect her. She'd had only her own courage, and her own hope, and her own faith that freedom, when it came, would be worth the risk.

Luke reached the edge of the woods and was surprised to find himself on the outskirts of Chiutza. He hung back in the shadowy trees, listening to slamming doors and then silence. Everyone must have gone inside. All the houses were shut up against the cold — he could see smoke rising from chimneys and occasional shapes passing before windows, but no sound escaped.

Maybe if he waited until dark he could creep right up against one of the houses, press his ear against a wall and hear something. But after darkness fell he probably wouldn't be able to find his way back to his cave. He'd have no shelter, no protection against the long icy night.

Luke was still trying to decide what to do, when he saw a figure creep out of a shed behind one of the bigger houses. The figure was wearing a cloak, and it seemed to turn its head to peer directly at Luke out of the depths of the cloak's hood. Luke jerked behind the nearest tree, his heart pounding and the panic coursing through his body yet again. But when he dared to peek out a moment later, the figure was gone.

I'm safe, after all. He didn't see me. Fake alarm, Luke thought in relief.

And then a hand clamped over his mouth, and an arm clutched across his chest. Luke struggled to free himself, to scream, "Stop!" But a voice hissed in his ear, "Don't! Don't make a sound. Do you want to get us both killed?"

The hood of the cloak fell back and for the first time Luke could see the face of the person who'd attacked him.

It was the boy who'd ridden out to Chiutza in the jeep with him, the one who'd stolen Luke's cornbread and told him he stank.

"What—" Luke tried to ask, but the boy still had his hand covering Luke's mouth, his fingers holding Luke's jaw shut.

"This is my territory now," the boy said, still whisper ^ ing into Luke's ear. "There's not room here for both of us. You go find some other place."

He shoved Luke away, and Luke sprawled in the dead leaves. He rolled over and looked up at the other boy.

"What are you talking about?" Luke asked. "What do you mean, 'territory'?"

Luke couldn't understand why the boy had attacked him and then shoved him away. He couldn't understand why the boy wasn't grabbing at him and shouting, I found him! Here's the deserter! Officer Houk — over here! Instead, the boy had said, "Do you want to get us both killed?" as if he were in as much trouble as Luke. Why?

"Shh," the boy said, glancing around nervously.

Understanding began to creep over Luke.

"Did you desert too?" Luke whispered.

The color drained from the boy's face.

"Don't say that," the boy hissed. 'At least not if anyone from the Population Police comes back. They left me behind." A crafty look slid over his face. "Of course, if someone from Chiutza asks, maybe I did desert. Just not in front of everyone like you did."

Luke scrambled back up to his feet. He was secretly pleased when the other boy took a step back, like he was afraid of Luke. Luke was taller than the other boy, and Luke had muscles from his months of shoveling horse manure.

"So they left you behind," Luke repeated, trying to put it all together. He couldn't remember seeing the boy after those first few moments in Chiutza. Where had he been when Luke carried the old woman out of her house? Or when Officer Houk handed the gun to Luke?

"Well, yeah," the boy said. "After the villagers killed Officer Houk, do you think the driver waited around to make sure I was all right?"

Luke shook his head, not quite believing what he'd heard.

"What?" Luke said. "You mean, Officer Houk was—"

He broke off as someone opened a door in one of the Chiutzan houses. A girl stepped into the street and poured out a bowl of some sort of liquid. Both Luke and the other boy ducked down and held their breath until the girl went back into the house and shut the door.

"See? You almost gave us away. You have to leave," the boy said.

But this time Luke heard the fake bravado in the boy's voice, the fear and uncertainty trembling just below the surface.

"No," Luke said. "You have to tell me everything you saw."

"Not here," the boy said. "Someone will see us or hear us. And it's too cold."

Luke looked around, frowning, still trying to make sense of the boy's words. After the villagers killed Officer Houk. . Luke saw the boy was beginning to inch away.

"We can talk in that shed over there," Luke said. "We'll whisper."

"The shed's mine!" the boy said, his voice arcing toward hysteria. "You can't have it! It's mine!"

Luke reached out and grabbed the boy's arm, to steady him and stop him from running away. Luke had to know what had happened.

"I don't want to take your shed away," Luke said, trying to make his voice soothing. "I've got my own place to stay. I just want to know what's going on."

"Where's your place?" the boy asked.

"Back there. In the woods," Luke said impatiently.

"Is it warm and dry? Do you have your own food sup-ply?" the boy continued.

"I—" Luke began. His stomach churned, as if on cue. He hadn't thought about food at all since running away from Chiutza. He'd just thought about running and hiding and freedom and Jen. This made him wonder how clearly he'd been thinking all along, how sane any of his plans and actions had been. "Look," he said now, trying to sound calm and reasonable. Trying to be calm and reasonable. "I just want you to tell me what happened in Chiutza after I left. Then I'll leave you alone. I promise."

The other boy was staring at him warily, but when Luke gave a little tug on the boy's arm, he began to move toward the shed.

Twilight had fallen now, with long shadows extending from the woods into the village. It was no challenge for Luke and the other boy to creep along the edge of the woods, confident they were out of any villager's sight. But at the doorway to the shed Luke hesitated, sudden panic overtaking him.