Jay Budgett: The Indigo Thief

I glanced around at the room. Still just concrete walls and a crappy bouquet of hibiscuses. Three flowers fell from their stems as Kindred spun. She raced to stick them back on, inadvertently crushing the rest of the flowers in the process.

“Well, not Texas,” she said, “but New Texas. The ‘Republic of New Texas,’ if we’re being politically correct. Though, Lord knows I haven’t the head for politics. Don’t tell the others,” she whispered, “but usually I just call it Texas. The others, however, are particular about that sort of thing. Your safest bet is to refer to it as New Texas or—and perhaps this would be best for everyone—not refer to it at all. Yes, that would be best. Don’t refer to it at all. We don’t want the,” she mouthed ‘ Feds ,’ “to find out it, do we, dear?”

I smiled and nodded. Kindred returned her attention to adjusting the flowers.

If she wasn’t a Fed, then who was she? If New Texas wasn’t part of the Federation, then where was it? But, most of all, who were “the others”?

Maybe I had drowned.

I remembered grabbing Mila’s—the Lost Boy’s—ankle. I’d been holding it when I’d seen Charlie floating in the water. Maybe Kindred knew where she was.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” I asked.

Kindred glanced over her shoulder. Four more hibiscuses fell from their stems. She hastily threw them in her pocket. “Yes, dear?”

“Was anyone else brought to, uh, New Texas? Like a girl, maybe? About my age? One with chopsticks kinda stuck in her hair?”

Kindred rubbed her chin. “Well, now that you mention it, I think I did hear something about a girl.”

“Oh?”

Kindred nodded. “Dead.”

My stomach dropped, and my heart screamed. I’d been too late.

“Actually,” said Kindred, “now hang on a minute. I suppose I was thinking about one of my radio soaps— Waves of Our Lives . But I did hear something about you reaching for a girl in the water. But don’t worry, dear. That one’s alive.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. A weight lifted from my chest. “She’s here, then?” I asked.

Kindred shook her head. “I’m afraid not. The baddies got her. Keeping her hostage, if I remember correctly.”

My heart sank again. The Lost Boys had gotten Charlie and were holding her hostage.

Kindred patted my shoulder. “How about we go up and I get us some blueberries? That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I think I’d like some blueberries.”

“Of course you would, dear.” Kindred walked back to the ladder and climbed. “What’d you say your name was again?”

I followed her up. “Kai.” I said. “Kai Bradbury.”

The name fell from my mouth before I had time to think. I should’ve given her a fake name. Found out who she was, what her allies wanted from me, before telling the truth. But she just nodded.

We reached the top of the ladder, and I saw that the room above was made from a concrete of sorts, like the basement. I tapped a wall and it echoed—hollow. On one wall was a steel door; across from it, a barred window. Outside, there was a clear view: sunlight sparkling off the ocean waves.

Was New Texas a part of one of the islands? It had to be—Kindred must be using a code name. From the window, I could see that there were no other buildings on the beach. Limited infrastructure. Maybe we were on Kauai? The other islands’ beaches were too built up…

Kindred led me to the kitchen. “You can meet the others once you’ve had something to eat, dear.”

I nodded and muttered thanks, wondering if we were in a mental institution. Maybe one of the Ministry of Research & Development’s experimental departments. That would explain the barred windows.

Rows of glass cupboards lined the kitchen’s walls. Kindred skipped to the fridge. “Don’t be nervous about meeting the others,” she assured me. “They’re all such dears.”

I wondered how many more times Kindred would say “dear” in the next ten minutes.

She tossed me a bowl of blueberries and powdered sugar. My stomach growled. I was starving. By the time I’d finished, Kindred’s “dear” count was at ninety-seven.

“Nets are down and it’s only nine a.m.,” called a deep voice from the other room. “Gonna be another long day, Kindred.”

She scrubbed another bowl of fruit in the sink. “But I’ve got blueberries, dear. Freshly picked from my garden. That’s got to count for something.”

“I thought we finished those at Bugsy’s—uh…” the voice sniffed as though its owner were crying, “…goodbye thing a couple nights ago. There’s still some left?”

A tall boy, about eighteen, poked his head into the kitchen. His eyes were two spaces too far from his nose, and his top row of teeth jutted from his lips even when his mouth was closed. Stray hairs were scattered across his chin. He looked vaguely like a squirrel.

The boy wiped his eyes and wandered over to Kindred at the sink. I tried not to stare at his sweat-stained shirt and flamingo boxers as I wondered again where I was. I hoped Charlie was somewhere safe.

The boy turned to face me. “Wait a second.” He stared at me with his wide-set eyes. “Who’s this?”

Kindred clapped her hands and pushed him toward me. I panicked and stuck out my hand for a handshake. He gave me a blank look, staring at my hand briefly before giving me a sort of a sideways high five.

Kindred smiled. “You must’ve heard us talking about him, Dove. His name’s Kai Bradbury. He’s the one from the Tube.”

“The clinger? The one who grabbed Mila by the ankle?”

Kindred nodded. “The very same.”

“Well, balls,” said the boy.

“Balls?” I scratched my head.

Kindred patted my arm. “It’s just something he says, dear. You know, like ‘shoot’ or ‘wow’ or ‘crap.’ He wasn’t talking about anyone’s balls in particular.”

“That’s reassuring,” I said. New Texas got stranger by the minute. I shuddered to think what they’d done to me when I’d been unconscious.

The boy’s eyes were blue like Kindred’s, like everyone’s in the Federation over fifteen. Unlike Kindred, however, his were especially blank. Clear like a community pool after what Uncle Lou called a “code brown.”

He scratched his head. “Where are you from?”

“Moku Lani,” I said. I bit my tongue the second the words left my lips. I’d already given them my name. Now my home. This was too much. It could still be a trap. Something set up by the Feds to convict me as criminal. Maybe some scheme of the Lost Boys.

He tossed a handful of blueberries into his mouth. “Moku Lani?” he asked. “Mostly just the nuclear plant there, right? And the home for the kids?”

“H.E.AL.,” I corrected him.

“That’s the one,” he said. “You an orphan?” Kindred shot him a panicked look.

I shook my head. “I’ve still got my mom.”

Kindred shoved a bowl of berries into his hands. “More berries, Dove?”

He nodded and stuffed his cheeks full of them. He looked even more like a squirrel now.

“So, uh, your name is Dove?” I asked.

“Yep, yep,” he chuckled. “Dove’s my name—just like the bird. My mom saw one sitting outside the hospital window the day I was born. That’s how she picked it.”

Kindred smiled. “Isn’t that lovely?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s lovely, all right.”

He stared out the kitchen window with a smile. “Sometimes I pretend she saw a falcon instead. And my name’s not Dove, but Falcon.”

“Falcon would have been pretty sweet,” I said.

He shrugged. “Yeah, but I guess I was better off than my brother. Mom didn’t see a bird outside her window with him.”