Margaret Haddix: Among the Free

What if this is all a trick? What if the boy was just pretending not to want me in the shed? What if Officer Houk and the driver are waiting there, with the gun? What if they plan to kill me on the spot for running away?

The other boy stepped across the threshold, into darkness.

"Coming?" he whispered, his voice taunting.

This shed's barely bigger than an outhouse, Luke told himself, fighting back the panic. If Officer Houk and the driver were hiding in there, they'd have me by now, no matter what.

Luke stepped in behind the boy and pulled the door shut behind them. Now the shed was completely dark, except for a patch of light on the opposite wall, where a board was broken away.

"This way," the boy muttered. "In case someone comes."

He pulled Luke over behind a pile of burlap grain sacks. The burlap smelled old and moldy, but Luke's stomach still grumbled at the thought of possible food within.

"We have to make a deal," the boy said.

"Huh?" Luke asked, distracted by the grain sacks and the trouble he was having getting his eyes to focus in the dark.

"A deal," the boy repeated. "I have something you want — information. What are you going to give me for it?"

Luke had nothing with him but the clothes on his back. And even those weren't his — they were the standard'issue shirt, pants, and boots that belonged to the Population Police.

"What do you want?" Luke asked, stalling for time.

"Oh, a gourmet meal would be great," the boy said. "That gun you were stupid enough to drop. Maybe a nice comfy bed so I don't have to sleep on burlap tonight?"

Somehow the boy's sarcasm seemed nastier in the dark.

I don't have anything to give you, Luke wanted to say. What would it cost you just to tell me what I want to know for free? But then he remembered the way the boy had grabbed the packet of cornbread before Luke had a chance to touch it, the way the boy had sneered about Luke smelling like horse manure.

"If you tell me what you saw after I ran out of Chiutza," Luke began, "I won't go knock on the door of that house over there. I won't tell them, 'Did you know there's a boy hiding in your shed, eating all your grain?'"

Luke wished so badly that he could see the boy's face, see how he was taking this threat.

"You wouldn't do that," the boy said finally, though his voice sounded thin and worried. "You'd be caught too."

"How do you know I wouldn't do that?" Luke asked. "The villagers saw me refuse to shoot one of their friends. Maybe I think they'd treat me like a hero. Maybe I'm already counting on them feeding me that gourmet meal to celebrate. Maybe I've been on their side all along."

"If you were, you'd know these people don't have any gourmet food/' the other boy sputtered. "They're lucky to have grain, and that's probably not going to last the winter."

"Especially not with you eating it," Luke said, and somehow that came out sounding like the last word.

The boy cleared his throat, nervously. And then he began to talk.

I was doing what Officer Houk told me to do," the boy started defensively. "I knocked on every door I came to. I was just circling around to find out what street I was supposed to go to next, when I saw Officer Houk standing there in front of this big crowd, pointing a gun at a woman. I heard him say something about treason, and then I saw him hand the gun to you and tell you to shoot her. And then you dropped the gun and ran. Why didn't you do what you were told? Why didn't you obey?"

Now Luke wished he hadn't used such a heavy-handed bargaining technique. Why hadn't he just agreed to trade stories with the boy?

But that was a dangerous thought. Telling anything was risky.

"I–I didn't think the woman deserved to die," Luke said, choosing his words carefully.

"So?" the boy said. "Lots of people die who don't deserve it."

Luke frowned, trying to think how he could explain.

"I didn't want to be the one to shoot her," he said finally.

Luke thought maybe he could see the other boy shrugging in the darkness.

"What did she do, anyway?" the boy asked.

"She refused to come out to the meeting about the I.D.'s," Luke said. "She said that after everything else that had happened, she didn't care about identity cards." Luke couldn't quite see the other boy's face, but he could feel the boy looking incredulously at him. Luke felt like his words hadn't done the woman justice, hadn't conveyed the dignity in her defiance. "She was very brave," he added.

"That's brave?" the boy said. "Sounds stupid to me."

"You didn't see her," Luke said weakly.

"I saw her being held at gunpoint, condemned to death," the boy said. "If that's where bravery gets you, no thanks."

Luke swallowed hard. He felt like he and the other boy were engaged in some sort of competition, and the other boy had just scored the first point.

"But, after that," Luke said, "who shot Officer Houk?"

"I couldn't see exactly," the boy said. "A bunch of people rushed forward after you dropped the gun. Someone grabbed the gun and I could see it pointing at Officer Houk. Then there were a bunch of shots and Officer Houk fell over and stopped moving and the driver drove away… and I hid. I don't think anybody remembered about me. Nobody came looking for me."

The boy sounded almost forlorn at having been forgotten.

'And you've just been hiding out ever since?" Luke asked.

"Yeah. So?"

Luke remembered he hadn't exactly done anything dra' matic and decisive himself.

'Are you going to try to get back to Population Police headquarters?" he asked.

"What's it to you? You scared I'll turn you in? Scared I'll say you disobeyed? Scared I'll say it was all your fault Officer Houk died?"

"No," Luke said, and it dawned on him that that was the truth. Somehow he wasn't afraid of that possibility. Population Police headquarters seemed very remote and far away now. "You don't even know my name."

"They kept records of who went with Officer Houk," the boy said. "They'll know I wasn't the one who dis^ obeyed. Maybe they'd give me a reward for turning you in." He sounded hopeful now.

Luke remembered seeing a man writing names down on a clipboard as everyone else ran past him toward the jeeps. It hadn't been Luke's real name anyhow; he was on his sec' ond fake identity since leaving home.

"Nobody has any identity cards anymore, remember?" Luke said. "I could be anyone. It doesn't matter if you turn me in or not."

The boy sagged back against one of the burlap bags, and Luke thought, I won this round.

"It doesn't matter anyhow," the boy said, his bravado gone. "I heard people saying they've got all the roads blocked off around this area. I couldn't go back to Population Police headquarters if I wanted to. Did you hear the fighting?"

Luke nodded.

"Were they fighting the Population Police?" he asked.

"I reckon so," the boy said. "A bunch of men and boys came back into the village bragging about how the Population Police were cowards underneath their fancy uniforms, how they just dropped their weapons and ran. Like you did."

Luke thought there was a difference, but he wasn't going to argue about it with this boy.

"I think half the village is in that house over there, celebrating," the boy continued, pointing to the side. "I heard people shouting about how they don't have to listen to anybody else anymore — that they're in charge of their own lives now."

Free, Luke thought. Is that what free is? Is everybody free now?

"That's where I was going when I saw you. I was going to sneak over there and see if I could take some of the food they have at their party."