“Then why did Kip go back for Charlotte, I wonder?” Isaiah said.
“Because Char…” she paused. “Because Char has better tricks.”
“That must be it,” he said softly. He took his hand away from mine, finally, and I pressed mine into my leg, because it was still slightly warmer than the rest of me. Isaiah straightened in his seat. “We passed Boston yet?” he asked.
“Why?” Cassa said. “The OPT’s in Maine.”
“No reason. Just like to feel oriented.” His fingers slipped underneath the dash, and I mimicked his posture, sitting straight, facing forward. Was he trying to find the glove compartment? I didn’t look at him again, to keep him from drawing Cassa’s attention. She was Kip’s mirror: gazing out the opposite window, a strange expression on her face.
“Maybe an hour back,” I said. “We went around.”
“I’d have been happy to let you out, Mole,” said Cassa. “I still am. Not that you’d have found where you’re going.”
“No need, Cassa. I’m going with Charlotte, here, for a little while.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy orbiting the sun together. Tell me, do bodies decay in a vacuum?”
Isaiah smiled, and his fingers continued to work. “I reckon they might.”
The question about Boston had thrown me off. Isaiah grew up there. Other than juvy, it was the only home he’d ever known, but I didn’t see why he’d ask about it.
Unless his family had lost the lottery.
It was strange to think about. I’d taken for granted that I’d have had a spot on an OPT, if my record were clean. But then, my father had major influence over the lottery. Everyone else had nothing but hope. If they’d known there were people who could tamper with the results, they wouldn’t even have had that.
I wanted to ask Isaiah about whether he’d had news from home, but it felt wrong to talk about something so personal in front of Kip and Cassa. His fingers were still under the dash, and he was unusually chatty, so I decided to follow his lead. “Do you think it’s like they say, up there?”
At my question, he paused for an instant before continuing whatever it was he was up to. He opened his mouth to reply, but Cassa was quicker.
“Oh, you mean will everyone have a fresh start and the same stuff as everyone else? And we’ll all be equals? Of course we will. And we’ll be attended by unicorns and fairies.”
I snorted at that. “How long has civilization been around? Six thousand years, give or take? Ten? Our species gets a clean slate, plus all that experience. Humanity could finally get it right.”
Kip finally spoke. “You believe that, Char?”
“She’s just stupid enough,” said Cassa.
I thought for another moment. I needed to keep Kip and Cassa talking. It would be easier to beat them if they let down their guard. “I don’t want anyone to die. But it seems like we have a real shot at… utopia. Whatever you call it. Democracy.”
“No, we don’t,” said Cassa. “Because it’s being built by the same people who broke the current system. You bunnies don’t get it. You’re either weak, or you’re strong. The people on the Arks will be stronger than the ones left down here, but they’re still just people. Before long, it’ll be every man for himself. Just like here. That’s why we’ll need the Remnant.”
“That’s still the plan?” I asked. “Find the Remnant, escape to space?”
“You got a better one? Kip says they’ll recruit at the launch site.” Cassa sounded less sure of that than I expected.
“Recruit?” said Isaiah. “Group like that doesn’t need to do much recruiting. You join up or you die.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in them,” said Cassa. Her voice made her sound unsteady. I pictured her trying to catch her balance, and I realized all at once that Cassa didn’t believe in the Remnant any more than I did.
“I don’t,” Isaiah answered. “But I sure don’t believe they’re recruiting.”
“Kip says—” Cassa cut herself off. “Never mind.”
There was a long silence, and it finally dawned on me that Cassa wasn’t trying to find the Remnant at all. She was just following Kip. Right to the end.
The sun continued its final arc across the horizon. I ran a finger over a small, circular burn on the roof of the car. I imagined Meghan scoring a real, sure-enough cigarette, then driving out of town to enjoy it. That way, her behavior wouldn’t reflect badly on her son, the prison guard. Maybe she’d even gotten it from him.
Click, snap, CLICK. The car jerked to a stop, jolting me from my thoughts about Meghan. My seatbelt bit into my shoulder, forcing me back into the seat.
“What was that?” said Kip. “What’s going on?”
I shrugged.
“Maybe a short?” said Isaiah. “I could check it out.”
“How dumb do you think we are?” said Cassa. “Char, you go.”
“To look for a short? I have no idea—”
“I’m going,” said Kip. “Pop the hood.”
Kip had barely set foot on the ground when Isaiah leaned across my lap, reaching to the other side of the steering wheel. “I’m on it,” he muttered. A moment later, the trunk popped open, followed by Isaiah’s door.
“Mole! Mo— Isaiah. Get back here,” said Cassa.
He called back to her without slowing down. It was the loudest I’d ever heard his voice. “I’m just looking.”
“What? You’re blind.”
“Can’t do no harm then, right, baby?”
She waved the gun. “I will shoot you.”
“Maybe he can help?” I said. “Maybe we should let—”
“Char. I can. NOT. Emphasize this enough: Shut up.”
Cassa was panicking. Panic is weakness, and a great way to lose the game at the last minute, but her instincts were right: Isaiah was up to something. I was glad she hadn’t seen him tinkering under the dash. She’d have shot him, cold. And it would have been the right move for her, then.
But it was too late for that now.
Her voice raised in pitch. “Mole! I will shoot her!”
Isaiah spoke calmly from behind the trunk. “Who’s gonna drive the car, Cassa? You? Maybe I should try it.”
Cassa realized the futility of her stance. She couldn’t possibly shoot me yet. We were six hours from Saint John and the OPT, and I was the only one who could drive the car.
But she could kill Isaiah.
She shot out of the car. I fumbled with my seatbelt for an instant before following her. My view of Isaiah was blocked by the open trunk.
Kip realized what Isaiah was up to before I did. But he was all the way in the front of the car, trying to pry open the hood. And Isaiah was nearly to the trunk.
I figured it out when I saw the look on Kip’s face. He bolted towards Isaiah, who had just ducked behind the open trunk. I threw open my door, slamming it into Kip’s hips. It barely slowed him down, but it was all the time Isaiah needed. He emerged from behind the trunk holding the rifle.
Cassa leveled the gun at Isaiah’s heart. I threw myself at her, making contact as the shot went off.
“Hoo, now,” said