 
FADEOUT

CHRISTINA J. ADAMS

2013 Copyright Christina J. Adams

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

For my Dad

With all my respect

You are always there when I need you

And to the One I love

You fill my life with wonder

Table of Contents

Chapter 0.5: Silas

Chapter 1: Silas

Chapter 2: Silas

Chapter 3: Jamar

Chapter 4: Jamar

Chapter 5: Silas

Chapter 6: Silas

Chapter 7: Jamar

Chapter 8: Silas

Chapter 9: Silas

Chapter 10: Jamar

Chapter 11: Silas

Chapter 12: Jamar

Chapter 13: Silas

Chapter 14: Silas

Chapter 15: Jamar

Chapter 16: Silas

Chapter 17: Jamar

Chapter 18: Silas

Chapter 19: Silas

Chapter 20: Jamar

Chapter 21: Silas

Chapter 22: Jamar

Chapter 23: Silas

Chapter 24: Jamar

Chapter 25: Silas

Chapter 26: Jamar

Chapter 27: Silas

Chapter 28: Jamar

Chapter 29: Silas

About the Author

~~~~~

And Carillians for the Machine

A darkness filled the nation, little ones beware

Oppression comes to all and torments without care

Chaos, pain and death chase our people every night

We only had two choices: Die or stand and fight

The battle that we won was not without its cost

Someone had to pay for the dignity we lost

Tireans, Faans and Ajaks begin new life serene

Justice for all and Carillians for the Machine

Ajaks in the chamber, Tireans on the throne

A cow in the stable, a hawk to soar alone

A horse on the battlefield as a Faan is to war

A spy in the branches and a boat on the moor

Memory is the answer, emotions are the key

Protection for our cities, light for all to see

A moment of compassion hides a lone wolf unseen

Plague, darkest night and Carillians for the Machine

Dangers on the horizon, Tireans beware

Before the foul disease starts spreading everywhere

A dagger in the shadows, bloody and unclean

The answer is Carillians for the Machine

Chapter 0.5: Silas

Guards brought the fifteen-year-old boy in yelling and kicking. They forced him to the shiny table in the center of the room. The table's metal glinted from the sole bright light directly overhead. It was more metal than Silas Durant had seen in all his eight years combined. The light from the metal was blocked as two guards held the teen down on the table while a third guard secured the straps for his arms, legs, chest and chin. He was left alone for a few minutes, but the time did nothing to calm him. The teen strained and pulled and screamed.

There was a nervous hush on the other eight-year-old kids that Silas could almost taste. All 27 of them had been locked in the adjacent room for over two hours, but no one wanted to move. They were frozen, watching the teen through the glass wall. It was the first time Silas had been taken anywhere without his parents and now the guards said he wouldn't be living with them anymore.

Silas leaned closer to the glass. The teen on the table looked a little like his parents' neighbor, Mrs. Dowell. He had her light brown eyes and the same lips. Unlike Mrs. Dowell, he had several strands of dark hair growing on his upper lip that weren't quite enough for a mustache. Silas knew Mrs. Dowell had children and her youngest had been a boy. She didn't like to talk about it, none of the adults did, but she had left a teddy bear in the old crib and baby boys were always given teddy bears. It struck Silas deep inside that this could be her son.

A man in a white coat walked calmly over to the teen and began attaching some kind of head gear to his forehead. A thick strap went completely around his head. Two studs were connected to the straps and a visor was hooked to them so that it curved around the top of the teen's head. Lastly, a sensor on the top of the visor was screwed to a large metal box with a clear tube running to a deep rectangle bin. The man stepped back and went to monitor the numbers on one of the screens.

Now that the teen was connected, he struggled even more. The man in the white coat clicked several sections of the screen and different colored lights reflected off the table. The teen stared up at them and his muscles began to shake involuntarily.

"Please, don't," he begged. The sound echoed inside the children's room as clear and crisp as if they were standing right next to him.

Silas couldn't see what the teen was watching. It was higher than the top of the glass would allow him to look. One of the other boys in the room tried to press himself against the glass, but it must not have worked because he gave up after a minute.

"Stop please. I won't do it again," the teen repeated over and over. Tears began to form and slipped down the side of his face.

Something flashed on the screen the man in the white coat was watching. The man glanced up to a small room made from darkened glass with wooden stairs leading to it.

"He's ready," was all the man in the white coat said.

There was a loud click, a speaker crackled and a deep voice said, "Start the Machine."

At those words the teen began struggling again. There was a grinding noise. All the lights in the building brightened and the boy screamed. He kept on screaming as small glass balls rolled down the tube from his head to the container.

The light in the children's room hissed and brightened too and all the children glanced up at it. Some of the girls in the room began to cry. Soon it seemed as though everyone was screaming or crying. A girl ran to the door and began pounding on it, but no one let her out.

Silas swallowed. He tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't. The process lasted for hours. Most of the kids huddled together in small groups as far away from the window as they could. Silas wanted to hide with them, but he was motionless. He wanted to cry or scream, yet nothing would come out.

The more glass balls that rolled away, the quieter the teen got until he was completely still and then everything became too quiet. The teen's eyes were dull and unseeing. His fingers limp and his mouth parted. His chest breathed so softly that Silas kept watching to see if it would stop. But the teen kept on breathing, in and out. Then the man in the white coat came back and unhooked the completely unresponsive teen. Another man came, lifted the teen into a wheelchair and took him away. There was no need for restraints. Silas didn't think the teen even knew what was happening to him.

A speaker in the room crackled and several of the girls started crying again.

"This is your only warning," the same deep voice from earlier said. "Fall in line, obey the rules and don't make waves or this will happen to you."

The kids struggled to their feet and lined up by the door. Silas joined them secretly relieved to be moving again. They waited in line for another hour until a guard came and escorted them to their new rooms, a ten-by-ten foot cell with a wooden bunk bed, a toilet and some cubbies hanging on the wall. Boys were taken to one ward and girls to another.

That night Silas huddled in his new bed. He couldn't sleep. He kept picturing what had happened earlier. Every sound made him jump. Even the buzzing of the hallway light was strange. So when footsteps sounded down the hall, Silas was immediately tense. The door to his cell slid open and Silas watched in horror as two guards entered. They grabbed him and moved him out of his cell, away from the boys ward and into the building where the Machine was kept.

No sound would come out of Silas' mouth and he felt like he wanted to collapse, but somehow his feet kept him upright and held his weight. There was a spotlight on the empty table where they had strapped the boy. It made the chrome seem shiny and dangerous. Silas could hardly take his eyes off it, but then he heard someone talking in the corner.

"This one is different. See how he's not crying or shaking."

"Test him anyway." It was the voice from the speaker.

The man in the white coat appeared out of the darkness and held a scanner near Silas' head. It beeped and whirled but did not hurt. Silas stood still holding his breath and hoping that whatever they planned to do would happen quickly.

There was a final beep. The man pressed the button and held the scanner to Silas' head again. When the final beep sounded once more the man grunted.

"He doesn't even register."

"Test him again."

"I tested him twice to be sure. This boy has no emotional registry at all. He must be defective."

There was silence from the darkness, then a sigh. "Not necessarily. I've heard of cases like this. We'll have to keep our eye on him and I want to get regular updates sent to me, for my eyes only. Wipe the last hour from his memory and take him back."

Chapter 1: Silas

Five Years Later

The three new boys huddled together in front of the unopened yard door. Silas watched them out of the corner of his eye. He kept his face forward so he wouldn't draw attention to himself and silently wished they would stop glancing about. It would only make things harder for them, and their first week in the Cartiam would be hard enough if it was anything like his.

The sharp whistle blew signaling the door's opening. One of the boys jumped. Tymas, the Faan guard standing by the door, walked over to the boy and cuffed him so hard the side of the boy's face smashed into the concrete floor. The boy began to cry, but he stood up and stayed in his spot as the door opened slowly.

"Now run," Tymas said nudging the first new boy with his baton.

_Along the wall_. Silas closed his eyes as the boy ran straight out into the yard.

Two gun shots crackled reverberating again and again in echo. Feet shuffled and Silas peeked to see what had happened. The boy was still running, like a deer in a ripe corn field infested with rabid dogs. The next shot hit the dirt by the boy's feet and he leaped to the side. Silas didn't get to see anymore because the line was starting to move. The other new boys were more tentative in entering the yard, but Stephen a fifteen year old jogged passed them, turned right and ran in the dirt groove near the side of the wall.

Stephen set the pace like he did every morning and the other guys fell into place behind him. It was a fast pace. Fast enough to raise everyone's heart rate above 130 when it was sustained for an hour. Silas remembered wondering how he would ever keep it up the first week he arrived, but it was almost too easy now. The first boy figured out where he was supposed to be running and rejoined the line by the wall.

Before they were halfway done with the first lap, the girls were let out of their ward and they quickly caught up with the boys' line. No one was in a rush. Most of them had done this before, with the exception of the four new girls at the front. Every chance Silas got he scanned the girls out of the corner of his eye for his older sister. Malina was normally easy to spot, with her bright brown eyes and quick smile no matter what she was doing. But this day Silas couldn't find her. His heart pounded faster and he feared that she had been taken. The Machine made the lights flicker all night long. One teen was missing from the yard and all he could do was hope it wasn't her. No one was ever taken without cause, but if the guards were watching they would have had plenty of cause.

Yesterday, Malina had yelled at Sebastian, the yard bully, after he tripped Silas in the yard. Silas knew the instant that his nose came up from the dirt and he saw the look on her face that she was not in control. Her eyes widened and her lips pressed so thin they almost disappeared. What was worse was that Silas knew she was doing everything she could to let it go and she couldn't. She marched across the yard and Silas had scrambled up to get in her way.

"You little imp," Malina hissed. "Leave my brother alone."

Sebastian jerked. Silas wanted him to walk away, but when Sebastian saw how riled Malina was he'd only smirked.

"Looks like someone's going to have a trip to the slaughterhouse," he said in a sing-song taunt.

"Shut up!" Malina shouted. Her hands began to shake and she lunged at Sebastian.

Silas caught her and pushed her back.

"It's okay," he said, his voice as calming as he could make it. "I'm not hurt. Look at me."

Malina shuddered, took several ragged breaths and let her attention settle on Silas.

"Your nose is bleeding," she said.

"I like my nose bleeding," Silas said, wiping his sleeve across his nose.

"Silly." It was her nickname for him, but it had been a while since she'd used it so he didn't complain this time. Malina let out a short laugh. She buried her face in her hands and then collapsed to the ground. "I'm sorry. I couldn't--you were...."

"I know."

"Do you think they noticed?" Her voice barely came out.

Silas didn't know what to say. This was exactly the type of incident they looked for and it had happened in the yard. He'd spent all night worrying that he wouldn't see her today.

As he began his second lap, Silas had to know she was still safe, that the missing person was not his sister. He craned his neck to check the girls closer to him and almost tripped, but he saw her. Malina had her hair tucked back into a braid, different from her usual ponytail, which was now starting to come loose. Her normal smile was gone and she plodded after everyone as if she were only going through the motions. But she was here and safe.

Silas pushed his relief down. It wouldn't do for the guards to see it. He refocused on the pounding of his feet and the feel of the breeze as it hit his sweaty matted hair. Any time he grew tired he thought of the picture on the calendar in his cell. It was a beautiful, calming scene. A forest of trees and a small waterfall that flowed cool and free between them. He wondered how it would feel to be that free. Something about the line of the trees and the stilled rush of the water made him want to run faster and run far away. But he couldn't. The chip implant at the base of his neck made sure of that. Still, Silas couldn't get escape out of his mind.

The whistle blew again and everyone slowed to a walk. They did one more lap to cool off and then everyone lined up according to age, all 358 of them; the boys on one side and the girls on the other.

The speakers crackled. "We will begin the week off with the selection."

Silas could almost feel the air stop moving as everyone held their breath. He glanced over to where Malina stood and saw that she was biting her lip. As one of the older girls she was running out of chances. Silas wasn't as concerned for himself. No one at 13 was old enough to be picked, but next year he would be and then long pauses like these would be torture.

Hearing the selection every week only reminded him that one day he would be hoping to hear his name called and all the while knowing that boys were not picked as often as the girls were. If his name was called, it meant he either had good genes, genes they wanted passed on, or he had average genes they didn't care were passed on. Silas had no delusions about his chances. But he'd always believed Malina had a chance. She was pretty, at least that is what he figured since many of the older boys would hang around her and follow her across the yard with their eyes. He thought she was beautiful in a way their mother was too tired and too sad to be, but being Malina's brother he always figured he was bias.

"The name called will report to Officer Westminster for transport. Remember that good behavior is rewarded. You are given food, clothing and beds and you have the opportunity to better yourselves by having your name in the selection, but these can be revoked. Strive to be good and your name might be called." Another long pause and Silas thought he heard someone give a frustrated sigh. "This week's name is Emily Fo-ax"

"Faux," some girl said, but it wasn't Emily. Emily was squealing and was surrounded by a group of girls hugging her and stroking her back. Malina stood in her place, shoulders dropped. Two of the guards, both from the servant class Ajax who had somehow managed to work higher than their station normally allowed, walked over to Emily and escorted her away.

"That is all," the speaker said and everyone started to mill around.

Silas walked slowly over to Malina. He kept his gaze on the new boys and as he got within hearing distance he asked, "Are you okay?"

She was silent. He wasn't sure if she hadn't heard him or was just trying to calm her emotions. But then she sighed.

"Emily is a year younger than I am. They aren't going to pick me." Her tone was quiet, almost resigned.

"You don't know that."

"Every morning I wake up and think that they've come for me, only one day they will. I can't live like this. I almost wish they'd take me today." Malina's words grew steadily louder. Out of the corner of his eye, Silas saw one of the guards turn to face them. His heart beat faster and he knew she'd act recklessly in her current state.

"What if we did something?" he asked quietly hoping she would match his tone.

"Like what?"

"Escape." The word was out before Silas could think it.

Malina didn't move and he almost wished he hadn't said anything. It was a stupid idea.

"Are you going to be ok?"

She just nodded, her loose hair covering her face. Her breathing was back to normal and she didn't have the wild look in her eyes.

"Just don't give up. I'm sure it will be you next time," Silas said. Reluctantly he left her and continued walking. They spent too much time together as it was and he made a point of spending at least half of his yard time with his cellmate, Patton. It was best to hang around those you weren't close to emotionally. It made you harder for the Machine to crack, at least that is what older teens whispered to the new kids. Yet it was so hard to do. A rule that everyone knew they should obey, but always broke in some fashion.

Malina had moved from her spot at the wall and was talking to one of the older boys, a guy named Marcus. She had re-braided her hair and had a small smile ready whenever he glanced in her direction. Silas sighed to himself and moved to the other side of the yard. Several of the younger boys had opened the box where the balls were kept and started a game of toss. They were allowed to play team games, and even forced to play them every once and a while, but team games generated more emotions than was safe to show, so most of the teens avoided them.

Silas found Patton and they waited for an opening to get to the box. When most of the other boys had cleared out Silas reached in and pulled out a ratty baseball with several of the laces frayed loose. They found an empty area and Silas tossed the ball to Patton.

Throwing the ball wasn't really a game they played. It just gave them an appearance of activity while both boys worked at slowing their heart rate. Nothing was more dangerous for a Carillian than a raised heart rate. Silas evened his breathing and could almost feel the blood rushing slower through his arteries. After five throws his pulse felt back to normal, but he continued to throw the ball. It was better than randomly walking the yard or leaning against the wall.

He saw the three new boys huddled in a corner. They seemed content to watch how the older kids interacted. It was one of the best ways to learn the ropes of the yard. But as Silas watched he saw Sebastian and his two crones, that Silas had never bothered to learn the names of, walk over to the boys. Sebastian was a year older and had picked on Silas his first day too, but the next morning all the kids were talking about how Sebastian cried at night for his babu. A red faced Sebastian insisted that he didn't cry all night, but the damage was done. For the rest of Silas' first year all anyone had to do was say babu when Sebastian tried to pick on them and Sebastian would leave them alone. No one had been able to discover what a babu was, but because everyone Silas' age and older knew about babu, it meant that only the newbies would cower around him.

Patton's throw was wide, making Silas missed the ball and had to run after it. When he threw the ball back Patton raised one dark eyebrow and made a slight shake of his head. Patton had the darkest skin of all the Carillians in the yard including Silas. Sometimes he wondered if somewhere in Patton's ancestry there was a Faan.

_What?_ Silas shrugged his shoulders at him.

Patton looked pointedly at where Sebastian was poking the kid Tymas had pushed to the ground. Then Patton shook his head again as if to say, _Don't think about it_. Silas caught the ball and tried to loosen his shoulders. Don't get noticed. That was the unspoken rule in the yard. But the guards never interfered with bullying and if he confronted Sebastian he would be playing into the guards' plan to identify those ready for the Machine. Even knowing that couldn't keep him from wanting to do something.

He tossed the ball back and Patton returned it almost as fast.

Sebastian had moved on to the kid who ran out of the doors first.

"Come on," Patton said as Silas held onto the ball longer. He shouldn't watch, but his eyes kept returning to the new boys.

Sebastian pushed the kid. Silas took a step toward them, but then the new kid surprised him. Instead of backing down he looked Sebastian in the eyes, threw his arms above his head and roared like a bear. There was no trace of emotion, only raw sound. It must have shocked Sebastian too because he stumbled back and cast a quick glance up at the guards on the wall. Then Sebastian and his friends retreated to the other side of the yard.

Silas let one side of his mouth turn up for a second before he made it disappear. The kid knew how to take care of himself. He tossed the ball and let his mind shut everything off. It was going to be another normal day. They would play outside, have lunch and then spend the rest of the day in their cells. He'd read some of Patton's books if Patton wasn't mad at him for nearly being careless.

He wasn't sure how much time passed when he smelled Malina standing slightly behind him. Everyone used the same soap, but on Malina it smelled sweeter than on anyone else. Patton held the ball a second and then they kept up the throwing motions. Silas could feel his ears tingling as he waited for her to speak. He checked the position of the guards and was satisfied that their attention was elsewhere.

"Let's do it," Malina said. There was a smile in her voice.

"Do what?" Silas asked, his mind shooting back to the new boys.

"Escape, Silly. Let's find a way to get out."

Chapter 2: Silas

Two thoughts rammed themselves against his skull. The first was that escape was impossible. Wouldn't everyone have tried it, or suggested to try it, if it wasn't? No one that Silas had ever known or heard of since being moved into the Cartiam had even attempted to escape. He'd never heard someone say, "Let's break out tonight," over their dinner of stewed beans. Silas wasn't even sure he knew where to start to accomplish a feat that big and risky. The implants in their necks would be a problem. It would have to be removed completely and Silas wasn't sure if that could be done safely.

His hand reached up and scratched at the small lump at the base of his head. He could feel something under the skin move when his fingernail pressed at just the right spot. It was near his spine and he knew enough about anatomy that the spine was important. If he cut into his neck wrong, things could go from difficult to impossible. In his second year, a kid had managed to hide in the cafeteria inside a tiny cabinet after dinner, but the guards had a tracking devise that led them right to him and he was not given food for a month.

Then there was the locked cell and the walls and the guards. All of which Silas didn't know how to get out of or avoid. And that led to another issue. Assuming they could get through all those things, what would they do next? Where would they go? How would they blend in? Carillians were never a part of society. They were born on farms and then transferred to places like the Cartiam until those in charge knew what they wanted to do with them.

Silas had read some of Patton's books that described society, but who knew how old those books were or if they were only made for Carillians to read. He'd read of towns, markets, malls and houses, but he'd never seen them. He imagined they looked similar to the family residences on the farm he grew up in, small two room sections attached to others just like it on both sides. And towns were bigger places with more rows where people dwelt. Markets and malls were happy places to go if you needed something. Instead of walking from house to house every Friday where people would hang what they made from their door or display it on their table. It would be every day and there would be color. Instead of the brown Carillians had to wear there might be blues or greens like the guards' uniforms or yellows like the dandelion he found and gave to his mom when he was five.

Silas slowed his breathing and checked the positions of the guards. They continued their normal rounds. He knew how to act in the yard, but what if no one acted like this out there? What if he gave himself away just be being himself? It was a lot to consider.

However the second thought that hit Silas was that Malina's eyes shone. She stood straighter and there was energy in her voice and in her small movements, like the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. What is more, Silas realized it had been months, maybe years, since she had seemed this alive. Living in the Cartiam had a way of weighing on you. The daily schedule, the hidden fears and the struggle to stay away from others all played a part in destroying any happiness you might have. It took Silas a second to grasp that Malina was letting herself hope, and another second to realize how quickly her smile would vanish if that hope died.

"We have to plan this carefully," Silas whispered. He didn't want anyone to hear, especially Patton.

"I know, but you're good at that."

"Meet me by the wall," Silas said. He tossed the ball a few times and then told his cellmate he didn't want to play anymore. Taking his time, he walked around the yard and rested three feet away from where Malina was waiting.

"Our implants." It was the first concern Silas knew had to be solved. If they couldn't remove their implants, alarms would sound and they would be easily tracked and recaptured. There was also the implants restraining element that prevented individuals from getting out of hand. In Silas' first year he saw three boys the size of Tymas attack one of the smaller guards, but within 30 seconds all three were screaming in agony on the floor holding their heads.

"I'll ask around, but I've heard there are ways to disable them or even remove them. How would we get out?"

"We need to record the guards' schedules, especially at night and see if we can find any weaknesses and then we make a plan. You keep track of what happens in the girls ward and I'll do the boys."

"What if we don't find any weaknesses?" Silas could feel the worry in Malina's glance and tone.

"We will. We'll find a way to get out of here." Silas could hardly believe he was agreeing to it, but as he did a warm excitement filled his stomach. They were going to try to escape.

"Okay."

"It might take some time."

"As long as I can keep my emotions in check I should have a few months at least. But we need to do this right, Silly." Malina walked away a bounce in her steps.

"I know." Silas said it more to himself, so he could hear the words out loud and remind himself of how much was at stake.

He mentally made a list of all the things they would need to do to escape. At the top of the list was finding a way to get out of the Cartiam walls. Silas had lived on the farm with his parents until he was eight and then he'd been rounded up with other eight-year-olds and loaded on a wooden cart. The cart had high wooden walls and a canvas roof that kept the sun out. He didn't have a chance to see anything because he'd been stuck in the middle, but one of the girls was near a small slit in the wooden panels and she would report on the towns and people she saw.

When they arrived at the Cartiam they were escorted through an enormous house with carpeted halls and into a cold, cinder blocked building with white walls and tiled floor. There was a brief moment as Silas jumped down from the wagon that he noticed the trees that grew around the building with its wall. It was so different from the flat open dirt plain that surrounded the farm. There was some grass outside the farm's chain link and barbed wire fence, made from a hardened plastic, but not much grew on the inside. Outside the Cartiam there were rolling hills of green grass and a forest of trees. Even though it meant that he was farther from his parents, the trees made Silas calm and at home.

Once he was inside the Cartiam the trees were much harder to see and the yard was a barren stretch of dirt from all the feet that walked on it. A twenty foot wall circled every building but the main house in the Cartiam and it connected to the main house on both sides, so you had to go through the main house doors to get in or out. Aside from his first wide-eyed trip, Silas had not seen the main house since. There were few places Carillians were allowed to go: the yard, the ward, the cafeteria and the Machine building.

The more Silas thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't know where all the doors were or who used them. After spending five years in the Cartiam, all he'd noticed was the shirt of the boy in front of him. That would be the first thing he had to change. If he was going to make a plan, then he would have to know all the ins and outs of the Cartiam and the people who worked there. He glanced up at the guards on the wall. He didn't know their names or even how many of them there were and learning more about them would be key to discovering how they could get out. This would be easy during the day, but he'd need to stay up all night listening to the guards make their rounds. No sense in waiting. He'd stay up tonight. Suddenly Silas couldn't wait for free time to be finished.

He began to notice things he hadn't before. How all the guards but one of the Ajaks carried their hands on their gun as they walked from post to post. Silas tried to see the guard's name, but was too far away. He'd seen this guard for five years and he still didn't know his name, although at least he recognized him. It's not like guards would introduce themselves when you were new, but he was surprised that he'd never noticed the guard's name tag before.

Some guards like Tymas Silas could easily remember, because he liked to stick his barreled chest in your face and all you could see was his shirt pocket with the letters Tymas stitched above it. Westminster also stood out because he was Tirean and never tired of letting others know it. He wouldn't do certain things because it was beneath him. It didn't matter that he had been disgraced, he was still Tirean even if he was a guard, which might also explain why he was always frowning and wrinkling his nose on shower day.

The class order in society was something Silas hadn't picked up on at the farm. It was only when he arrived at the Cartiam that he noticed there was a distinction between the classes. The guards would interact in one way with those of the same class and a completely different way with the guards from other classes. It was impossible to not notice it. There was a whole chain of command within the chain of command. Like the pecking order Silas read chickens have, back when he was in school at the farm.

At the top of the order were Tireans. They ran the country, the justice system, education, science and all the important, big businesses. Of all the classes Tireans were the most educated, the richest and whatever they said became law. Since all the Tirean families had some claim on power, they considered themselves more important than other classes. Like Westminster, it didn't matter that he was working beneath his station because he would always be Tirean and one day he might have the chance to rise again.

Second in the class order were Faans. All the Faans Silas had ever seen were dark skinned, sometimes almost black and their bodies were built tall like mountains with muscles bulging everywhere. Their land was somewhere in the south, but they had been under the Tirean rule for centuries and seemed content with the way things were. Faans were the enforcers and the military. Some Tireans served in the military, especially the higher ranks, but there were few warriors with the capabilities of a Faan.

There were four Faan guards at the Cartiam. Tymas, an old Faan with the name Lloyd stitched on his uniform and two women guards that only watched over the girls ward. Silas had only caught glimpses of the girls' guards and since they never did yard duty or watched over the cafeteria, he had never seen them interacting with others.

Ajaks were third in the class order, but even within Ajaks there was a ranking order. There were upper Ajaks, who owned the average businesses, ran the pubs, sailed ships and manufactured clothing. Then there were the lowers Ajaks who took care of the trash, served in Tirean homes, watched children and did the hard labor. The only reason Silas even knew there were two types of Ajaks was that there was one from each in the Cartiam. The lower Ajak was the one who didn't rest his hand on his gun.

As for Carillians, they didn't make the class ranking at all. They were lower than the lowest Ajak, worth more dead than alive. If it wasn't for the Machine, Carillians would have been wiped out decades ago. But the Machine extracted emotional memories, e-mems, from Carillians that were then used to power the electricity everyone used. Even the Cartiam ran on e-mems, a reality Silas tried to forget. Without the Carillians there would be no electricity and in that sense they were valuable, but that was it.

There was movement up on the wall. Silas noticed that the two Ajak guards came out of the guard house and stood by the door. They looked more watchful than usual and before Silas had a chance to wonder why, the bell rang. Everyone in the yard stopped what they were doing, balls were tossed back into the box and two straight lines of boys and girls were formed by their perspective doors.

Silas caught one last glance of Malina before the second bell rang, the doors opened and everyone started filing back inside. Her head was tilted at an angle where she could still see the guards on the wall out of the corner of her eye. She also seemed to be paying more attention to the movement around her. Someone behind them coughed and Silas saw Malina jerk at the same time he did. Then he entered the boys ward and followed Patton back to their cell.

The two Ajak guards entered the hall and watched as the boys walked by. As he passed the lower Ajak, he pretended to cough and glanced at the guard's name. The guard's name was Rickman and something jogged Silas' memory. He remembered the guards joking about calling one of the Ajak guards Rickshaw instead. It must have been Rickman.

Silas glanced up and saw that Rickman wasn't even watching the boys as they filed past. He made note of it and determined he would find a way to use this. If they could memorize Rickman's schedule, they would have a better chance of leaving unnoticed.

Once they were back in their cell, Patton climbed up to his top bunk and settled down with a book.

"So what was that about?" Patton asked without looking up, yet there was a slight twitch in his mouth.

There were sometimes when Silas thought he trusted Patton. After all, they had been cellmates for five years, but other times, like now, that made Silas wonder if there was another reason behind the question. He'd never even told Patton that Malina was his sister. Patton just thought Silas attracted older girls and one in particular.

Silas ducked into his bunk and said, "Nothing."

"You know you're going to get in trouble talking to that girl all the time."

"We don't talk all the time."

"No, but you're always looking for her. If you're not careful, they'll use you against each other. Lovers make the best Machine candidates."

"It's not like that. We're only friends." And family.

The top bunk creaked as Patton leaned back. "Just be careful. The guards look for any connections."

Silas closed his eyes. He should rest now if he was going to track the guards' movements all night. They would be more careful. Limit how often they talked and always, always hide all emotions. It was a feat that Silas knew would be more difficult. He'd been hiding and suppressing his emotions for so long that they all stacked up inside him, a suitcase where the straps strained to keep the lid shut, but the straps always held and he didn't know how long that would last for him. Some kids exploded the first time their emotions were unleashed. Add three more years of emotions and Malina must have it much worse. Plus she'd reached her emotional puberty, where her emotions flew higher and crashed deeper. But if Malina could keep herself calm, he would find a way to get them out. He would do anything. If they failed both of them would go to the Machine, but that could happen anyway. What did they have to lose?

Chapter 3: Jamar

The shovel jarred against another rock and Jamar Pelacroix decided he hated digging.

"This is too hard," Jamar said. He stared up at the unmoved faces of Edworth Dumas and Ted and Henry Grande.

Edworth took another bite from the cookie in his hands and nodded. "That's why you're doing the work."

Jamar's eyes narrowed. "Why not have one of the Ajaks do it?"

"Because it's more fun to say we did it," Henry said with a laugh.

"And it's hilarious to watch you in the mud," Ted said.

Jamar tossed the shovel to the bottom of the four foot deep hole and climbed out. "It's someone else's turn. I'm not your personal servant."

Edworth stood up, his cookie gone. "You'll dig until we say you're done."

"No, I won't."

"You will cause you're staying in my father's house and cause we are descended from royalty." Edworth jerked his chin at the shovel.

"My family's royal."

"Ha, five generations from it. That's barely mentionable," Ted said.

"Well, at least I don't have Ajak in my line," Jamar said.

With a shriek Ted jumped at Jamar and Jamar only had time to pop him hard once on the cheek before Henry tackled his legs. Jamar wasn't even on the ground when Ted's first kick landed. Once he was in the dirt, both boys whaled on him as he curled in a ball, covered his face and struck at their legs with his feet.

"Make him eat dirt," Edworth said from where he was sitting.

Henry tried to grab Jamar's legs, but Jamar kicked him in the mouth and blood started to pour from his teeth and bottom lip.

"You Car!" Henry sputtered and Ted kicked him once more, but without Henry to hold him, Jamar rolled away and stood up.

"What are you going to do? Run to your mommy?" Jamar asked. He sniffed and straightened his shirt. Henry wiped his mouth on his sleeve and glared at Jamar.

"Uh oh, look." Ted pointed back at the house. One of the servants was walking toward them, his eyes wide as he saw the pile of dirt in the otherwise immaculate garden.

"Master Edworth, what have you done? Your father is having guests in the garden this afternoon," the servant said when he was closer.

Edworth shrugged. "It's not my fault. Jamar's the one who wanted to dig for treasure." When the servant placed his attention on Jamar, Edworth sneered at him.

He was such a liar. Jamar didn't say anything, but he let his fist tighten and imagined slamming it into Edworth's plush belly. If he got in trouble for the hole, he was going to make sure Edworth suffered in some way. Jamar was a person and they had no right to treat him like this.

"Master Jamar," the servant's tone completely disappointing. Then with a sigh he added, "Your father wishes to see you."

"Already?" Jamar asked.

Ted snickered.

"Come on," Edworth said to the other two boys. "Let's go riding. I'm sure Jamar will be too busy refilling his hole."

Jamar watched them walk away. This was the third time they had managed to go riding without him. As he followed the servant back inside he hoped his father would listen. They needed to go home. Not that home was much better, but at least there he wasn't belittled at every turn. And the servants would listen to him, most of them anyway. Jamar already knew what he would do to those that didn't when he inherited the estate. He had decided that loyalty was the only quality he would consider in keeping servants on. There was nothing worse than a household full of gossips and tattletales.

The servant left Jamar in the study outside the room his father was using. It was a dark room, with dark wood tables, deep burgundy curtains and forest green walls. Jamar slouched on one of the overstuffed chairs. Thus far, today had been another disappointment. Edworth was a pig and the Grande brothers were bullies. If they didn't wear the gold medallions like he did...Jamar wasn't sure what he would do, but he would think of something and it would humiliate them beyond repair.

He let his eyes flit over the bookshelves. One had a shelf of tiny jars and Jamar got up to see what was in them. All the bottles were sealed, a set of some kind because they were numbered 1-25. They were different powders meant to look antique, like they had been around for the last two hundred years, but Jamar knew the glass was much newer. There was a dull tinge to glass from before the Radiation Age and this glass was shiny. Plus from all the history books Jamar had read, he doubted the people back then cared about mixing potions to increase freckles, dye hair pink or make fingernails grow longer. They were too worried about preventing another World War or falling into bankruptcy.

The door clicked open and Lemuel Pelacroix entered. He was a quiet man for the most part, with sharp eyes that seemed to catch everything and since everything about him was meticulous, Jamar always felt like he needed to stand straighter in his father's presence. When his father didn't even acknowledge him, but walked over to the stand with a bottle of brandy and poured himself a drink, Jamar knew he must have heard about the hole.

"It wasn't my idea. Edworth said we would all take turns, but then we didn't," Jamar mumbled.

"We are guests, Jamar." Lemuel's back was straight and stiff.

"I know."

"You should know. When you don't act under that knowledge, it reflects badly on me." Lemuel sighed and rubbed his eyebrow. "I need Lord Dumas' vote against the new energy restrictions and my son is destroying his garden."

"I'm sorry." Jamar glanced down at his shoes.

"You will need to tell Lord Dumas that as well. But right now you need to go to your room and pack."

"We're leaving?" Jamar couldn't keep the hope out of his voice.

"Yes. I have business at Cartiam V." Lemuel finished his drink and entered his room, closing the door with a don't-interrupt-me finality.

They weren't going home, but they were leaving. Jamar took two steps toward the door and then walked back to the shelf and took the bottle with pink hair dye. He wouldn't have much time to get Edworth back.

Three hours later his bags were packed onto his dad's carriage and Jamar was waiting in the foyer for his father to finish saying farewell to Lord Dumas. The Lord's office door opened right at the time the boys came in from their outing.

Lemuel was shaking Lord Dumas's plump hand. He was a large man that mirrored his son's interest in food and his red veined cheeks revealed his interest in drink. When Lemuel saw Jamar, he said, "Lord Dumas, my son has something to tell you."

On the other end of the foyer Edworth and the brothers were creeping around the men, but when they heard that they stopped and leaned closer. Henry pretended to choke to cover up a laugh and then he had to wince when his lip spilt again.

Jamar tried to ignore them and stared at Lord Dumas.

"Sir, I apologize for ruining your garden. It was thoughtless of me."

Henry choked again just not as loud this time and Edworth smirked at him.

Lord Dumas smiled. "Yes, it was. Next time you have the urge to dig, do it on your own land."

Jamar felt his ears turning red as he nodded.

"I'm certain he will never do this again," Lemuel added, his voice stern.

"I'm sure. Sometimes you can't control your urges. It's just who you are." The corner of Lord Dumas' mouth turned up into a sneer and Jamar knew exactly what it meant. It was the same sneer Edworth gave him when he learned Jamar's father was an energy consultant. "An energy farmer, you mean," was all he had said and then he proceeded to compare Jamar to an Ajak. It was a moment Jamar would never forget and never forgive.

Lemuel gave a stiff laughed and Lord Dumas laughed with him, although Jamar had the feeling it was closer to laughing at Lemuel. The boys started to sneak away again, but Ted bumped into a metal vase that vibrated against the wall and drew Lord Dumas' attention.

"Edworth," Lord Dumas said. "Say goodbye to Jamar. They're leaving."

Edworth rushed a goodbye over his shoulder and continued down the hall.

"You better not be going to the kitchen," Lord Dumas called after him. "We're having lunch in one hour."

Jamar let himself smile. With how many cookies Edworth ate, he was most definitely going to the kitchen. Lucky for Jamar that he had already been there an hour earlier and all he needed now was one last glimpse of the new Edworth-do to make his day complete.

Chapter 4: Jamar

The scream could be heard outside in the carriage. Jamar felt his heart leap and he craned to look. Lemuel paused for a moment and moved to take a step back toward the house, but then the side kitchen door was flung open and a pink headed Edworth ran coughing into the yard. Ted and Henry tried to follow him with a rag, but Edworth refused to let them touch him.

Lemuel closed the carriage door and pressed the button, letting the driver know they were ready. As the carriage pulled down the driveway, Jamar couldn't resist getting out of his seat to catch one more look. Edworth must have wiped his eyes, because he was glaring at the receding carriage.

Jamar just smiled and waved. It served him right, the cookie monster. Predictability was the greatest weakness a Tirean could have and Jamar knew how to exploit it. Although his family might not be as close to the political action as it once was, he was determined to change that one day. Perhaps he would have Edworth for an assistant or as someone to wipe his mouth during dinner. The thought made Jamar smile as he settled back into his seat.

"How long are we going to be at the Cartiam?" Jamar asked.

Lemuel had his reading glasses on and was pouring over a file.

"Until we leave or are needed elsewhere. I'm having Carlyle meet us there."

Carlyle was Jamar's tutor, which meant they would be there for a while. At least long enough that he would have to continue his studies. Jamar was glad to have Carlyle there. He enjoyed learning anything he could. Knowledge was power and Jamar planned on having power. Being around boys like Edworth, Ted and Henry only made him realize how important knowledge and learning was. The more he knew the more he would be able to control. When Edworth was busy sneaking cookies in the kitchen or scaring the horses, Jamar would be learning politics, energy efficiency and business smarts. Edworth might be a lord one day, but Jamar would have respect, even if it was given grudgingly.

He'd seen the looks the staff would give Lord Dumas or his son when they passed by. They did not have respect. They were buffoons. What did it matter if they thought he was an energy farmer? One day things would change and Jamar could hardly wait. His gold medallion was just as pure as theirs. He even got his a year younger than Edworth did. Lemuel started training him as soon as Jamar was old enough to read. The gold medallion was proof that Jamar was a member of Tirean society, that he was not just a person, but a person of note.

Jamar pulled the chain off his neck and looked closer at the medallion. It showed the ape, the man and the superior man. The ape was down on all fours, the man's shoulders were slopped and the superior man had his head high, his arms presenting himself and small rays of light shooting from his head. On the other side of the medallion were the words _Protecting Society_ and _Never Go Back_ curved around an eagle flying across the waters of a lake.

All the medallions had the same imprints, but there were also silver, copper and tin medallions. Sometimes it depended on the class of a person. Tireans as the ruling class most often received gold and less often silver, Faans as the warriors received silver and copper and Ajaks depending on whether they were lower Ajak, the servants, or upper Ajak, the merchants, received copper or tin. Sometimes it depended on the way a person answered the questions or on their perceived potential contribution to society. There were some upper Ajaks with silver, Faans with a rare gold or a mixed Tirean with copper. Having different metal medallions was a way to instantly identify the value of another.

Jamar fingered the medallion and settled back into his seat. He wished he had something to read, but he had not thought to keep one of his books out of his bag and now it was stowed away. He glanced over at the file Lemuel was holding. It was an analysis of energy consumption in the south and east sections of the country. Jamar wasn't too familiar with the cities there, but he knew several of them were large and would require a lot of energy. As the owner of Pelacroix Energy, Lemuel was the sole provider of energy for the majority of the nation. There were always discussions on finding a new source of energy or taxing the current system to make more money. From one of the graphs Jamar could tell that over the last year the demand for energy had risen.

It seemed as though the demand for energy had increased everywhere. Most cities were imposing a limit on night activity. Some even kept energy from being used from two until five in the morning. But still the demand kept rising. He'd heard Lemuel complain about certain districts in the city that demanded more than others. The science labs required nearly 30% of all energy produced.

He assumed that the need for energy was why they were going to the Cartiam. While all of their property was involved in the energy making process, the different holdings had different purposes. The Pearians were the farms where new Carillians, or Cars as most every Tirean called them, were bred and raised until the age of eight. The Verandia were the homes where the old breeders went after they were too old to bear more children and the Cartiam was where the young ones were kept until it was decided what should be done with them. Jamar had been to all of the different holdings, but the last time he was at the Cartiam he was seven and had spent most of the time in his room. It also might have been Cartiam III, so Cartiam V would be a new experience for him.

It was going to be interesting to go back to a Cartiam. The last few times they had been to Verandia II, VI and VII all the old people had depressed Jamar. There was no one to talk to and nothing exciting to do, although he did get to see the Machine in action. Lemuel suggested he watch them harvest the e-mems and Jamar was eager to get to spend more time with his father. He would not be allowed to participate in the actual collection process. He was too young and harvesting was a privilege for adults, but he would be in the same room and could see everything.

They stood side by side in the control room above the Machine and Jamar watched as they brought an old man with milky eyes into the room. They let him touch the table and he lay down, then they hooked him up and the e-mems poured into the storage bucket. The process took much longer than he thought it would, about five hours. Lemuel had one of the servants bring in a veggie pasta dish and they ate together while they waited.

"What does the Machine do?" Jamar had asked while they were eating.

"It harvests e-mems."

"I know that, but what does the Machine do to them? And how does it do it?"

"The Machine saves them from a life of chaos. During the beginning of the Radiation Age it became apparent that some classes were affected differently than others. The Cars had a surplus of emotions, the women and especially the men. They can be fine one moment and then emotion flares up in the next. Emotions connected to specific memories they feel a deep connection to and it overwhelms them. This emotion presents itself in a pressure, almost like a gas, that builds in pockets on various parts of the brain. It makes the Cars go insane and the Machine locates those pockets and drains them along with the memory that gas is connected to. Yet as soon as one pocket is removed another memory takes its place and fills with gas."

Jamar nodded, although his father was busy looking out the control window.

"What we do--what the Machine does--is free them from their emotions. We save them from heartache, pain and loss. We clear their minds so that they have no worries."

Jamar smiled. He didn't know what it would be like to be overwhelmed by emotion but he imagined it would be horrible. There would be nowhere to go because your problems would always be in you. It felt good to be a part of something that was helping others and he was eager to see the Machine in action again. One day, when Jamar reached manhood and had earned his position in the company, he would be able to harvest e-mems and he couldn't wait.

When the Machine had taken all the old man's e-mems, two aides came and helped him into a wheel chair. The old man was taken to the top floor and his e-mems were cataloged, coated and shipped the next week.

That had happened a year ago and Jamar had spent most of it traveling to different lords and the various farms with his father. The one thing all these places had in common was that Jamar had been left alone. Edworth was the first kid his age that he had spent time with in a while, and that hadn't turned out very well. The problem was that Edworth thought he was superior. He wouldn't let Jamar pick any games and he made Jamar get in trouble at least twice, three times if he counted the hole, which Jamar didn't. He hadn't been punished, not really since apologizing was barely a slap on the wrist.

What Jamar needed was someone who would follow him and who would listen to his ideas and play the games he wanted to play. Then it hit him that he was going to the Cartiam, a place filled with children who were inferior. They wouldn't have any opinions and if they did they would let it go because his ideas would be better.

Jamar glanced at Lemuel. Would his father let him play with a Carillian? He went through all the arguments in his mind and spent the next few hours trying to figure out how to get Lemuel to say yes. It was nearly time to stop and Jamar still didn't have the courage to bring it up.

Lemuel rubbed the bridge of his nose and put the files away.

"Are you hungry?" Lemuel asked.

"Yes," Jamar said. Then before he could lose his nerve he added, "I've been thinking that while I was at the Cartiam I could have someone to play with."

"You will have Carlyle."

"Yes, but Carlyle doesn't like to play games with me. It might also be good for me to have a sparring partner who was closer to my height and strength. Carlyle hits too lightly because his arms are weak from only turning pages all day. I thought I could pick one of the Cars to play with."

Lemuel's lips pursed together. It was what he often did when he was thinking. "I'm not sure if playing with a Car would be the best choice."

"But the last few places we've been I've had to stay in my room or play by myself. Or had the only kids my age exclude me. And it is so boring. You're always busy and Carlyle will tell you that I'm fast to finish all my school work, but then that leaves hours with nothing to do."

"We'll see," Lemuel said.

Jamar bounced back into his seat. 'We'll see' meant most likely yes, but Lemuel had to warm up to the idea. The carriage bounced along the road and Jamar couldn't wait until they got to the Cartiam.

Chapter 5: Silas

Over a week had gone by, another girl had been picked to go to the farms and Silas almost had the guards' schedule memorized. It was amazing how much he noticed when he was actually paying attention. There were only five male guards and three female guards, a total of eight guards to watch over 358 Carillian youths.

He discovered that Westminster's first name was Alfonzo and that he had stolen money from a prince, which must have been why he was disgraced. Silas found out that the other Ajak guard's name was Hugle, like bugle but with an 'H,' and Hugle hated working with Rickman. Every time they patrolled the wall together Hugle would never look in Rickman's general direction. Lloyd, the old Faan guard, preferred to sit and he spent most of his time on break or watching monitors.

Tymas was the only guard Silas didn't learn anything new about. He kept mostly to himself, but he liked order and expected Carillians and fellow guards alike to stay in line. Everyone instinctively knew if Tymas was having a bad day, they would too. He seemed to thrive on putting the rowdy boys back in their place, even if they weren't being that rowdy.

After spending three nights up, Silas felt like he had to yawn the whole time he ran. He finally had a rough idea of the night schedule. It was really simple. After dinner everyone returned to their cells and the doors were locked. There was one walk-through two minutes after lights out around 9pm, normally by Hugle or Rickman. Neither guard checked beds though or even peeked through the glass in the doors. They just walked to the end of the hall and back. Once the walk-through was done, no one entered the ward until seven in the morning when everyone lined up for breakfast.

The good news was that if they escaped, it would be hours before anyone noticed they were missing. The bad news was that anyone walking in the halls would be unusual and probably seen on whatever cameras covered the halls. Although Silas was not certain anyone watched those cameras, or if they actually worked.

Every other day he would update Malina on what he'd seen and she would inform him of the guards in the girls ward. Slowly, a plan began to form. The night would be the best time to escape, preferably sometime after 10pm and before midnight. Most of the guards were asleep or away from the Carillian wards and no one would know something was happening.

The problem was how to get out of their cells. The easiest option was if someone on the outside simply opened the door. There was a bolt of wood six inches wide and three inches thick that kept all the cell doors closed. Each bolt had two handles that could be used to slide the bolt back and open the door. There was a large box that kept the bolt secure, but the face of the box would swing open at a computer command. This could be done individually, like it was every morning or collectively if everyone needed to return to their cells after meals. From what Silas could make out, the connectors were magnetic and it was the magnetic wave that was turned on or off. There was a plastic casing around it that kept anyone from reaching the magnets and Silas didn't know enough about magnetic fields to know how they worked. Any idea to break through, or work around, the door's magnetic sensors would take a lot of time to figure out. It would be easier to find someone already on the outside who could either open the door manually or via the computer commands.

Silas sighed. He leaned against the stone wall and looked out at the rest of the yard. Patton was tossing the ball with another boy. He hadn't talked to Malina today, but she was busy smiling at Marcus, one of the older guys. Marcus seemed just as interested and was in the midst of telling a subtly animated story which made Malina's smile glow.

A door from the wall tower slammed right above Silas. He jerked and so did Stephen, who was resting on the wall next to him. Stephen was the one who set the pace for the morning run and they'd talked once or twice. It wasn't like they were real friends, but in the Cartiam it was as close as you normally let yourself get. There was an unspoken rule that if you could hang next to someone and not involve them in anything that this made you a great friend. You respect their need to protect themselves and they did the same for you. It was the perfect kind of friendship where you didn't hurt someone by getting too close.

"Hugle, straighten your uniform." It was Westminster. "Didn't you hear the owner is coming? He wants everything running smoothly for the harvest."

Silas' ears perked up. Stephen raised his eyebrows and glanced up. Silas knew he was thinking the same thing. There was going to be a harvest?

"Which one is this, the small ones we normally do?" Hugle asked. Silas could barely make out his words, but he could hear the jingle of Hugle's belt as he tucked his shirt in.

"Didn't you read the schedule? Don't just stand there, do your job. I'd hate for you to be demoted." Footsteps clomped away and the door shut.

"I'm sure you would," Hugle said with a heavy dripping of sarcasm.

They were planning a harvest, and not just a normal reaping of one or two kids, but something bigger. And it would be happening soon.

"We have got to tell the others," Stephen said quietly.

"Yes." He had to warn Malina. They would need to move their plans along faster.

"Tell everyone you can to lock their emotions."

"Lock them?" He'd might have heard something that emotions could be locked, but it was a few years ago and he hadn't thought to ask more about it.

"Yes." Stephen face was straight, but his voice held a quiet passion.

"How can we do that?"

"You create a strong emotional key and then when they take you to the Machine, they can't get to your memories."

"And this works?" Silas couldn't believe he hadn't heard of this before.

"It did for Greg, a guy four years older than me. They took him to the Machine and when they couldn't crack him, they moved him to a farm. I'm going to tell Marcus about the harvest." Stephen walked away and leaned calmly against the wall on the other side of Marcus. Malina stood up, whispered something in Marcus' ear and then walked in Silas' direction. Once she was gone Stephen's mouth moved, but they could have been talking about breakfast for all the lack of emotions he saw.

Silas looked over at the doors, so that he could see where she was out of the corner of his eye, but it wouldn't look like he was watching her. She grabbed a handful of dirt, took her time picking out little pebbles and tossing them back to the dirt floor, before she leaned next to Silas on the wall.

Every cell that was in Silas wanted to blurt out what he'd learned, but he took deep slow breaths and waited for his heart rate to cool.

"I've been thinking," Malina said. "We need to see inside the control room."

"What? That's crazy."

"How else are we going to know where the cameras are placed?"

Silas rubbed his eyes. "I could drop out of line at various points and see how quickly they respond."

"That could take forever."

She was probably right and they needed to speed things up.

"I heard that the owner is coming and there will be a harvest while he's here." Silas scratched the back of his head, which allowed him to look right at Malina. Her face was blank, although she let out a sigh. When she didn't respond, Silas added, "I also heard that there is a way we can lock our memories to keep the Machine from--"

"By creating a key?"

He was surprised at her interruption. "Have you heard of it before?"

"Yes, but not everyone can do it, because it has to happen organically. You can't force it."

"You could do it and then we'd have more time."

Malina let out a soft laugh.

"What?"

"It's not going to work for me, Silly."

The bell rang once and all the kids began to line up. Malina pushed away from the wall.

"But why?"

Malina just smiled and shook her head before joining the other girls in the line. She moved farther up in the line than she normally was and the surrounding girls glanced cautiously around. Any deviation from the normal routine was grounds for punishment. Silas waved at her, but she would not turn around.

The second bell rang and the doors to the wards opened. The wards were on opposite sides of the same large building and in between the ward hallways there was the control room and cafeteria where all the Carillians ate. There were connecting doors on both sides of those rooms for easy access to either ward and suddenly Silas had a bad feeling about what Malina was going to do. The lines started moving and Malina kept her knees bent so she was closer to the height of the girls around her. Silas could only drag his feet, willing her to look back at him.

Silas felt his heart rate shooting for the sky with every passing second. Then Malina jumped out of line and ran into the control room screaming at the top of her lungs.

Chapter 6: Silas

Silas' brain nearly stopped at the sound. They were going to kill her and he couldn't move. Tymas and Hugle ran over to the girls ward hallway, but one of the girls' guards stood in their way and made them use the boys ward hallway entrance to the control room instead. Malina continued to scream and heavy objects crashed to the floor.

All of the kids stared around, but no one moved out of line.

"Noo, let go!" Malina shrieked.

Silas saw a female guards pulling on Malina's legs and then suddenly Malina went limp. They dragged her out and carried her away. Silas felt his knees shaking and the pit of his stomach ached like it had swallowed five whole walnut shells.

"All right, time to move," Tymas said.

Somehow, when it was Silas' turn, his feet managed to step and hold his weight. He tried not to think about what they might be doing to Malina. As he entered the boys ward he saw Hugle walk up to Westminster.

"What was that all about?" Hugle asked.

Westminster shrugged. "Hormones?"

Silas wanted to ask what they were going to do to her, but Carillians didn't ask questions. His interest in her would be recorded and could cause more trouble for them in the future. Still, walking into his cell and listening to the bolt slide shut was like having a wet towel pressed on his face.

He plopped on his bed and screamed silently into his pillow. Something soft tickled his ear and when he let himself up he saw that it was a new stuffed lion. Next to it was a plush stuffed polar bear. They had switched out his toys. He picked them both up and hurled them to the other side of the room.

"Careful," Patton said. "Do you want them to not bring you toys?"

"I'm too old for stuffed animals," Silas muttered. He'd never enjoyed the stuffed toys he was given every few weeks. On the first day Silas arrived, before being locked in the glass room with the other new kids, they were shown to a large room filled with more stuff than he had thought existed before. The guards left the kids alone and must have had cameras watching them, because all Silas did was stare between this giant stuffed white lion and a large toy brown bear. He saw them and thought they were alive, but they weren't. When he arrived in his first cell, there was stuffed bear lying on his bed.

Patton always received books and normally didn't care if Silas read them too after he was done. Although sometimes he used it to justify taking food off of Silas' tray as payment. The items they were given was one of the first privileges that was threatened to be taken away to correct behavior. Small servings of food or a removal of blankets were reserved for more serious crimes.

"Have you ever heard of locking your emotions?" Silas asked.

The top bunk creaked. Patton was quiet for a bit and then he said, "Yeah."

"How do you do it?"

"I think you can't do it until you've reached emotional puberty or something, because it can only be created by the strongest emotion you've ever had."

"Can it work for everyone?"

"I don't know. You remember Ginger?"

Silas nodded. The guards took her while everyone was in the yard. She must have known they were there for her because she ran over to one of the older boys and kissed him. Then they dragged her away with tears streaming down her face. She was trying to lock her emotions away, but either she didn't do it right, or it didn't work. I caught a glimpse of her with the guards in the hall afterwards. Her eyes were dead. They got everything."

Silas wasn't surprised. He remembered the Machine running for six hours that day. The lights kept dimming and then blazing. All he could think about was the images from his first encounter with the Machine. He had huddled in his bed wishing for the lights to go back to normal.

"What did she do wrong?" Silas asked.

He could almost hear Patton shrug. "I don't know. Maybe she didn't get it done fast enough."

"Is there any reason why it might not work?"

"Well, a lock is only as good as the key. Even when your emotions are locked they can still take them if they can find the key."

Silas couldn't figure out why Malina didn't think locking her emotions would work. He knew she had reached her emotional puberty, so she could have intense emotions. All she had to do was find a situation where she would be emotionally charged and lock her emotions away. Any type of lock had to be better than not locking them at all. He decided that he would tell her this the next time he saw her. If he saw her.

The lights flickered and then steadied. Silas spent the next few hours watching for any changes in the lights, but they did not change like they did when the Machine was running. When dinner came, Silas lined up behind Patton. They shuffled down the hall to the cafeteria and the girls were already there. It took Silas three glances over the girls before he found Malina. She was eating a grilled cheese sandwich and looked just as calm as she always did.

Throughout his meal, Silas would glance over to where she was. Partly to make sure she was really there and partly to check if she was okay. He even made Patton switch table sides so he could watch her without looking over his shoulder.

She was alive. They didn't take her to the Machine. He wasn't sure if he should be shocked or relieved. But when they went back to their cells for the night, Silas' heart felt lighter, especially when the lights dimmed and stayed that way for the night. He woke to the warning sound of the morning bell and barely had time to make his bed before the cell doors opened and everyone had to line up for breakfast.

After the morning run, Silas could hardly wait for a moment to talk to Malina. Most of the other girls avoided her like the plague and Malina seemed content for everyone to leave her alone, even Marcus. She leaned in the corner near the boys' door. Silas tossed the ball with Patton, but finally he couldn't take it anymore and told Patton he was done.

He walked around the perimeter of the yard until he came to where Malina was. Then he feigned a need to rest and crouched over with his hands on his knees.

"What happened?" he asked under his shoulder.

"Nothing really," Malina said.

"Nothing?"

"They gave me some pill to quiet down. That's it." She let out a small laugh. "You know they think we're crazy. They half expect us to act like that all the time, so when we do they aren't surprised."

"I--I didn't know what to think."

He nearly jumped when she touched his shoulder. "Aw," she said with a smile in her voice. "You were worried about me."

Of course he had been worried. She was his sister, even though she was older than he was, there was a part of him that needed to protect her. He wanted her to be happy and he wanted them to be free together. He had never met his two oldest sisters. His father only spoke of them once and his mother never, ever mentioned their names, but Malina had told him what they looked like and how they both didn't make it to the farms. Silas was convinced that it was because both her oldest daughters went to the Machine that his mother never spoke of them. He had rarely seen her smile and every time she looked at him or his younger brother it was like she was saying goodbye.

It wasn't just that Silas was concerned with how his mother would handle the loss of another daughter he was also not sure how he would handle it. Just knowing his family was smaller, that they had no one make it to the farms yet, made him feel like the world was crushing him. If he could find a way to escape with Malina, then it was as if he was protecting his whole family and could push away the weight of the world. He had to save her, to keep himself whole.

"So, do you want to know what I found out?" Malina said a teasing lilt in her tone and she pinched his shoulder.

Silas had completely forgotten about that. He shook her hand off and she let him. She knew she shouldn't touch him where they might be seen.

"They have one camera for the yard that covers everything but this corner and the corner near the girls' door."

Silas glanced up at the brick wall, somewhere above and in between the two doors was a camera.

"There's two cameras that covers half the cafeteria each and one camera for each ward's hallway. But there aren't cameras for each individual cell. Oh, and you know what?"

Silas turned to her.

"They only record the yard and the cafeteria. We can do whatever we want in the halls and our cells." Malina's smile lit her eyes.

Chapter 7: Jamar

The sun glinted off the window of Jamar's new room at the Cartiam. He looked down at the yard full of Carillians and he could hardly contain his excitement. They had arrived late last night, but Jamar woke up bright and early to the sound of the wake up bell. He didn't want to miss an opportunity to scope out possible playmates.

There was a whole list of criteria that Jamar decided on the second day they were traveling. He wanted a boy close to his age, preferably someone who was 12 or a small 13 so that Jamar at almost 14 could dominate any physical activity. Teens older than that would be harder to control and manipulate. Boys younger would be more likely to whine and Jamar didn't want to deal with that. He didn't want the boy to talk much, because it would be annoying and if the boy was quiet than Jamar could be the one talking. Jamar smiled. It would be fun to have someone listen to him for a change.

He surveyed the kids mentally ticking off those that didn't fit. There had to be over 300 kids in the yard, but about half were girls and of the boys only 40 or so fit the right age group. Of those forty he didn't like the looks of 14, six were too tall, and seven looked like they would talk too much or try to control things. Almost all the children had a serious look about them that was a bit depressing. It was no wonder they need their emotions removed.

Jamar ticked back and forth over all the boys that were left. At least one had to be suitable. There were two boys tossing a ratty ball. Both fit the kind of boy Jamar was looking for. The lighter skinned one left and walked around the yard until he rested near the wall next to a girl.

It was a brave move. Jamar wasn't around very many girls on his father's business trips, but the last time he was he couldn't think of anything to say. And when he finally forced something out, the girl had laughed and flounced away, her pink hair ribbons leaving the scent of roses behind. But the boy in the yard was not driving the girl away with his comments. This girl was smiling at the boy and he had lost some of the seriousness he'd worn earlier. They clearly got along and Jamar wondered how they had gotten to the point where they could talk and smile.

Then he saw the boy jerk when the girl squeezed his shoulder. Jamar laughed out loud. Maybe this boy wasn't as used to being around girls as he seemed. He'd never get anywhere in a relationship if he jumped at every physical contact. Perhaps this was the one he was looking for. He looked smaller than Jamar, which was ideal, and he had a quiet look about him. He didn't talk much to the girl or the other boy he had been playing with and he stared out at the rest of the kids playing as if he was used to being alone. Being on the outside of the Tirean society, Jamar felt confident they would have that in common.

Jamar began memorizing this boy's face, with his straight nose, brown eyes and sandy brown hair. They continued talking and then the girl walked away. Typical. The boy pushed off the wall and walked over to the other side of the yard. As he did, Jamar noticed he had numbers inked on the back of his brown shirt. Jamar snatched up some paper and a pen and wrote them down: 800190. Now he didn't have to remember the boy's face.

A knock sounded at Jamar's door and he set the paper back on the desk before saying, "Come in."

Lemuel cracked the door open, but did not enter. "I've arranged for one of the guards to practice your sword fighting with you this morning. He's the best fighter here and you should be able to learn a lot from him."

"I'm ready," Jamar said. He threw open his trunk and pulled out the practice sword that Lemuel had given him for his eleventh birthday. It would be too small soon and Jamar hoped his father would see how the scabbard only reached his knees as he strapped it on. Metal was expensive because it was so rare, but if he was to be taken seriously as an adult one day, then he would have to know how to fight and fight well.

Lemuel opened the door wider and led the way down four flights of stairs to the ground floor and the main doors. Aside from the yard the Cars used, there was no place open enough to practice sword fighting inside the Cartiam. They walked out of the main house doors and Jamar squinted in the bright sun. The main doors opened to the rear of the Cartiam with a large grassy area. There were several paths leading back around the wall toward the stables and the nearest town.

Waiting near the main doors was a Faan, over six and a half feet tall. He proudly displayed his silver medallion on his broad, overly-muscled chest and he wore a surly curl in his lips. Jamar instantly didn't like this guard.

"Now, I have to catch myself up on things here. You practice until lunch and then spend your afternoon studying. Carlyle should be here sometime next week and I don't want you to get behind. Work hard and make me proud." Lemuel touched Jamar's shoulder once and then retreated back indoors.

Jamar eyed the Faan. His sword was three feet long and barely reached his knee. It was obviously not the sword he normally used when he was practicing for himself. Jamar hated that he would not be a challenge to this guard. It was the one aspect he enjoyed about training with Carlyle. At least with Carlyle he could force the tutor to give him everything he had.

"What's your name, Faan?" Jamar eyed him to see if there was any weakness.

"Tymas Kareem." The Faan's voice was deep and gruff. It showed no fear at Jamar's Tirean status and even had hints of distain.

"How long have you practiced with the sword?"

"Since I was eight months old. Shall we begin? Or would you like to ask how much I can bench press too?"

Jamar clenched his jaw. The Faan was taking over the lesson. Still, Jamar pulled out his sword and took his position across from the guard. He would rather learn how to beat this Faan than argue with him over who was in charge. The Faan may have size and strength on his side, but Jamar knew he was smarter than the guard and he would rely on his superior intellect to make him succeed. He would make his father proud.

Tymas pulled out his sword and immediately attacked. Jamar threw his sword up and stopped three of the blows before the Faan whacked him in the right shoulder. The sword hit so hard Jamar almost fell over, but he managed to move his feet in time to catch himself. Yet before he had a chance to straighten, another blow smacked his left thigh and then another blow to the right side of his rib cage.

Jamar stumbled back and fell on his rear.

"Get up," Tymas said. He turned his back to Jamar and returned to where they had started, which was much farther than Jamar thought. "Raise your guard and keep it up."

"You're going too fast."

"How else are you going to be able to fight real men?"

Jamar scrambled to his feet and charged. Tymas didn't turn around, but he swept his arm back and pushed Jamar to the ground.

Jamar sputtered, trying to catch his breath. "You can't do that! This is a sword fight."

"If you were going to fight honorably and not attack your opponent when his back is turned, then I wouldn't have. But you are obviously spoiled, impatient and incapable of defending yourself."

Jamar could feel his whole body start to shake. "Don't talk to me like that!"

"Until you learn some manners, I'll talk to you as I like."

"I could get you fired."

Tymas laughed. "Get up and fight, Tirean." Yet the way he sneered the word 'Tirean' was as if it were a slur.

Jamar stood up, determined to stop the Faan's attacks and within the minute found himself back on the ground. Again and again Jamar would get up and over and over the Faan would advance so quickly and with such a wide selection of jabs and feigns that Jamar could not anticipate where he would strike next. His whole body ached, but especially his right arm. Tymas seemed to enjoy hitting his sword arm every chance he got, until Jamar could barely hold his sword up.

Tymas moved in closer and Jamar swung wildly at the Faan's head. Tymas blocked it and followed up with a hard blow to the back of Jamar's legs that swept his feet out from under him. Jamar's head crashed into the earth and Tymas threw back his head and laughed.

There was a ringing in Jamar's ears, but he glared up at Tymas. He hated Faans. They were cruel inferior idiots. He realized that he would not be able to beat Tymas in a sword fight. Not until he was stronger and taller. After all, he was only 13, almost 14. He hadn't reached the greatest fighting potential he would have for several years now and then he would come back and make this Faan suffer. He'd wait until the Faan was 70 if he had to, but one day he'd humiliate the Faan the same way Tymas had humiliated him today. Until then he'd have to find some other way to make Tymas sorry.

Jamar rolled over and pushed himself up. Then he stormed off, threw the main doors open and didn't bother to shut them. Let the Faan do his job. He half limped from a big bruise on his left thigh and with every step it was a reminder of how much he hated Faans. Perhaps he'd start a campaign to remove them from the nation. Or push for their medallion status to drop to copper, tin or a new lower class of clay. The thought made him smile, until he arrived at his father's study and let it fade.

Jamar knocked quietly and waited a moment before entering anyway.

"Father, you need to fire that Faan. He is cruel and doesn't know how to teach a proper sw--"

"Not now." Lemuel was crouched over his desk. "I told you I had work to do. Every second you distract me puts me further behind."

"But that Faan tripped me and pushed me to the ground. You can't let him treat me like that. You have to fire him."

"Tymas is the best guard we have and I will not fire him because your ego was bruised."

"Not just my ego. Father look!" Jamar pulled up his sleeves and was dismayed at how little the skin was discolored. He knew it would look much worse the next day.

It didn't matter though, because Lemuel never looked up.

"This is why I need to practice with someone my age."

"Fine." Lemuel was sounding more impatient. "You can pick one of the Cars and practice fighting with them. But you will have to have a guard with you at all times."

"Thank you, Father."

"However, if your fighting skills or studies start to suffer, this will be the first thing to go and you must attend to more of the company's business."

Jamar let out a short breath. He was happy to learn more about the company, even if it meant more homework. Besides he would spend time with his father.

"Agreed?" Lemuel asked, looking up for once and staring into Jamar's eyes.

"Agreed." Jamar nodded. It was a small price to pay and it would keep the boredom at bay.

"Then you may pick a Car first thing tomorrow morning."

Chapter 8: Silas

Rain pinged off the barred windows of the cafeteria. Silas stood in his place in line and held his tray still. The line moved another foot. The girls had already eaten and were filing out by the time Silas took his first step into the cafeteria. He hadn't seen Malina, but had only peered across the room long enough to see the last five girls leave. It was too late to see his sister. Malina was normally somewhere in the middle of the line.

As he approached the woman controlling the food dispenser he heard one of the guys ahead slam his tray down.

"This is it?" the boy asked, although his voice was not loud, in the otherwise quiet room it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "But I've been good."

"Food is a privilege. Move along," the woman said. Her attention switched to the boy behind him. "Next."

"But what about bread?" the same boy asked.

"We're out of bread. Move along."

Silas leaned so he could see the boy causing the commotion. Today's breakfast was oatmeal and he had a scoop so small it barely covered the bottom of his bowl. It was near a fourth of their normal serving size and every meal was also accompanied by two slices of bread, but this serving had only half a slice. Bread was the one thing Silas could count on. He'd been saving a slice a day and storing them under his mattress. They would need extra food when they were free. The bread was always something he could count on, even before. The cafeteria food was never very tasty and sometimes it smelled bad. If he didn't like the meal, he could last on the bread, but without bread he would have to adjust his standards for palatable food.

"Is there a problem?" Westminster asked coming up behind the boy.

The boy paused as if considering whether to voice his complaint again, but he just shook his head.

"Then move along."

The boy grabbed his tray and left the line to find his table.

When Patton and Silas received their servings it was the same size. Although no one would say anything, the mood in the cafeteria was hushed. Why were the serving sizes smaller? Every boy in the room had the same potion sizes, yet they couldn't have all done something wrong. Could they? Why were their portions reduced if they had been good? All of these questions floated around the room in the looks the older teens gave each other, or the longing in the smaller kids' eyes as they glanced back at the cafeteria line. There was also more scrapping of bowls on every table as even droplets of oatmeal were more important. Silas saw one boy lick his bowl when he was done.

Silas tried to take small scoops so it would seem like his meal lasted longer, but it wasn't long before everything was gone. Beside him, Patton ate his whole bowl in three spoonfuls and then scraped his finger along the bottom and sides. Then they both waited for what was left from their allotted half hour for breakfast to end.

The extra time gave Silas the opportunity to watch the guards and other workers. It had almost become a habit now. Anytime he had a moment to spare he watched them: the way they stood, the way they interacted with each other and the way they watched the Carillians. All it took was one look at the sour expression on Tymas' face to know he wasn't having a good day. Westminster walked up next to him and was about to say something, but Tymas pushed him to the side and moved to the opposite wall. Westminster folded his arms and glared at Tymas' back.

Aside from the two cafeteria ladies there was also a janitor named Cortez. He wiped down the tables, swept the floors and took out the trash. He was mostly ignored by everyone. The guards never interacted with him, he just did his job and stay out of everyone's way. Silas wondered what class he was. If he had to guess he thought Cortez was an Ajak, but he wasn't really sure. Silas watched him move across the cafeteria until he was standing near the food dispenser. There was something shifty in his eyes and the way he kept inching back that caught Silas' attention. Silas ducked his head to watch him better. Then, in a movement so fast Silas wasn't sure he saw it correctly, Cortez's hand shot out, grabbed a slice of bread and stuffed it in his pocket. It happened again. Cortez grabbed three more slices and filled his other pocket.

Silas blinked. Cortez's eyes checked on the positions of Tymas and Westminster and then he filled a third pocket on his thigh. He didn't seem to care if any of the Carillians spotted him. The woman said they were out of bread, but apparently there was enough for Cortez to feel comfortable taking some and not worrying too much about getting into trouble with the guards if food was found to be missing. Silas wondered if there was a way to use this. Perhaps they could get Cortez to let them out of their cells at night. He'd have to talk it over with Malina, but he wasn't sure if this information would be enough to trust Cortez.

Silas also noticed an uneasiness among the older boys. Marcus and Stephen had their heads close together and were obviously whispering, although Silas couldn't hear anything. There was a 'No Talking' rule in the cafeteria, but none of the guards seemed to notice. Not even Tymas whose watchful gaze scanned the room every few minutes.

When the bell rang everyone stood and filed by the door for time in the yard. Silas could hear the rain hitting harder as the boys filled the hall. The yard would be miserable today. His stomach rumbled to remind him that he hadn't eaten enough. They waited for several minutes and then the doors opened and everyone started running.

Silas ran with his mouth open to let the rain dribble down his throat. Water was better than nothing and he needed more in his stomach than what he had been given. Besides the rain dripping in his mouth gave him a reason to ignore how his shirt and pants stuck to his skin and made it harder to move.

Everyone was moving slower today and the guards didn't yell at them to pick it up like they might have. Perhaps they were too busy thinking how miserable they were watching the yard in this kind of weather. The rain fell in torrents and Silas could barely see the girls on the other side, so it was also possible the guards couldn't see how fast they were running.

Then the rain began to let up and before Silas had completed another lap it had stopped completely and the sun came out. Hugle gave a warning shot into the center of the yard and the kids picked up the pace. Only now the mud flew everywhere and Silas' feet kept slipping when he tried to go faster.

He could see Malina across the yard helping up one of the smaller girls who had tripped. Even though Silas knew the Machine didn't run last night, he still felt his body relax some. He had to tell her what Cortez did and see if the girls received as little food as they did. They also needed to make some kind of final plan for escape, because if there was going to be a limit on the Carillians' food it could make it difficult to have food saved up for when they were on the run. They had to be prepared and start putting all the pieces into place so that he could get her out before anything big happened.

The bell for the door rang. That never happened during exercise. The girls running in front of the doors tried to run around them as they slowly opened.

"Halt." Westminster's voice cracked through the air and everyone slid to a stop.

This was not a normal stop. First they didn't get their normal portions of food and now they were being stopped before the end of their exercise. Something was going on. Fear flickered in everyone's eyes as they glanced at the door. Silas found he was breathing harder than normal and his calves felt sore from picking his feet out of the mud.

Tymas, Lloyd and Rickman marched into the center of the yard. They were followed, more tentatively, by a boy roughly Silas' age, who kept failing to find solid ground to place his shiny black boots. Silas was positive this boy was Tirean, it was something about the way he held his head and how crisp and clean his clothes were. He sniffed a bit when he saw how dirty all the Carillians were, but unlike others who would be given a tour of the facilities, this boy looked at them. It was almost as if he were searching for someone specific, someone he knew.

The boy ignored the girls and began walking down the boys' line.

"Backs against the wall," Tymas boomed.

Everyone moved.

The boy approached Silas and then finished his inspection and returned. Silas kept his eyes down. It was never good to look defiant or too interested in what was going on. Yet when the boy's shiny boots stopped in front of him, Silas couldn't help glancing up. The boy was definitely looking at him. A thousand possible reasons for why this boy might be interested in him ran through Silas' mind, but the ones that kept repeating involved the Machine. The boy walked over to Lloyd, the old Faan, and said, "I can't tell if that's the one."

Silas felt somewhat relieved. He did not know this boy and so he couldn't be the one the Tirean was looking for.

"Turn around," Tymas said. His dark brown eyes almost seemed to beg Silas to disobey.

Silas did as he was told. It felt odd to be singled out like this, in front of everyone too. He hoped Malina would not try to do something crazy. There was soft, muted talk going on behind him that Silas couldn't make out and he wished one of the other boys would give him some kind of clue as to what was going on. The longer he spent facing the wall, the more he felt exposed and the more certain he became that something bad was going to happen.

The boys near Silas leaned away from him like petals from the center of a lily. And then a splash of water drenched Silas' back and filled his right ear. Silas began to shake. What were they doing?

"Yes, that's the one." The Tirean boy's voice sounded muffled to Silas' ears. Then Tymas gripped his arm and pulled him away from the wall. Silas kept the pace Tymas set as they walked to the doors. They were going to take him to the Machine. They were going to drain him of every memory he had. He wished he could feel more afraid, but he felt frozen inside.

Chapter 9: Silas

The first place the guards took Silas was the shower room in the boys ward. They waited while Silas cleaned up and put on his other fresh pair of pants and a buttoned brown shirt like the ones he'd been wearing. He didn't think this was normal procedure for the Machine, but he was covered in mud and supposed that they didn't want to get the shiny table dirty. He tried to make every moment last longer, but before he knew it he was clean, dressed and walking away from the boys ward.

They walked through the door that connected the halls of the Carillian wards to the building where the Machine was kept, but instead of turning toward the Machine they walked past it to the main house, turned right and climbed up four flights. When they entered the hall of the fourth floor, Silas could hardly believe his eyes or his feet. The ceilings were high and had splashes of bright colors flung on them. They seemed like they would reflect the sun in a way to make the whole hallway flood with light, if the sun was out and it wasn't raining again. The carpet was so soft and thick that Silas was certain his feet sank an inch. It was no wonder they made him take a shower first.

Tymas stopped in front of a large walnut door and knocked three times.

The door opened and the Tirean boy gave a quick, polite smile before he said, "Thank you, Tymas. I can take him from here."

The grip on Silas' arm didn't change.

"I don't think you should be left alone with--" Tymas started to say.

"I can take care of myself and we're not going to be leaving the room, so if you absolutely must stay on the floor, you may do so in the hall."

Tymas growled, but when the boy took Silas' hand and pulled him toward the door, Tymas let go. The boy gave Tymas another smile as he shut the door, a bit forcefully to Silas' ears.

"My name is Jamar Pelacroix," the boy said. "My father owns Cartiam V as well as all the others. I often get bored on my father's business trips, so it is your job to keep that from happening while I am here."

Jamar tilted his head and appraised Silas. "You're taller than you looked. But you're also thinner, so that should still work. Now, do I call you 800190, or do you have a name?"

"My name is Silas Durant."

"Silas." Jamar scrunched his eyes as he looked at Silas. "I guess that will do. You may call me Jamar."

"Thank you." Silas wasn't quite sure what to say.

Jamar smiled. "Good, that's over. Now, I suggest we play a highly competitive game. Fighting each other mentally will be the best way for us to get to know each other. Plus it's a great way to pass the time and since it's muddy we can't go outside."

"You were going to take me outside?" Silas asked.

"Yes, it is easier to practice sword fighting in a large open space." Although Jamar tone inched toward scoffing at Silas' ignorance, Silas didn't care. He had been that close to going outside of the Cartiam. Still, he was in the main house and even though it would have been more helpful to go outside the walls, he would never get there if he didn't know what the main house was like. Silas stuffed all those thoughts deep inside and tried to remember what Jamar had said.

"You want me to learn how to sword fight so you can practice?"

"Well, I can't fight a dummy. That's not a good way to increase my skills. Have you ever held a sword?"

Silas shook his head.

Jamar rolled his eyes. "Follow me."

They wound their way around a large, plush bed to a wooden closet near a full, wall length bookshelf. Jamar swung the closet door open revealing weapons of all sizes and shapes. He leaned in and pulled a small, unadorned hardened plastic sword out from its place near the bottom of the closet.

"Hold this," Jamar said passing the sword back to Silas.

Carefully, as if afraid that he would cut himself, Silas took the sword's hilt and wrapped his fingers around it. The hilt was as hard as a wall, but smooth and cool to the touch. Silas took several steps back and swung the sword to see how it moved through the air. He hoped he wouldn't be punished for this, but since Jamar was the owner's son, he figured he was probably safe.

"Okay," Jamar pulled another, slightly bigger sword made from the same materials out of the closet. "Now there are six basic blocks and strikes, two low, two chest height and two high."

Jamar ran through them so fast that Silas wasn't sure he'd remember them, but after Jamar went through them slowly and Silas copied Jamar's body position, he found it easier to move from strike to strike and block to block. It took an hour of running those positions before Silas could move to the next position without thinking too hard or jerking his body to get there. Then Jamar called out the positions and even mixed them up so Silas would have them memorized outside of the pattern he was first taught.

When a knock on the door interrupted the sword lesson, Jamar snatched Silas' sword and tossed both weapons into the closet before he ran across the room to the door. It was a young woman, Ajak, if Silas was right and he was fairly certain she was since the woman carried a tray of steaming food. Jamar told her to put it on the table near his bed and to get out.

Through the open door Silas saw the Faan guard standing in the hallway, a smaller tray on a chair nearby. Tymas stared at the boys and Silas was glad when Jamar finally closed the door again.

There were two plates full of food and Jamar handed one to Silas. After the small amount of oatmeal he had for breakfast, the lunch seemed extravagant. He loved everything he tasted. Jamar on the other hand, just picked at his food and complained that it wasn't as good as he was used to eating. When most of Silas' plate was empty Jamar said, "Let's play chess now."

He pulled out a box, dumped its contents on the floor and began setting up pieces on the box's checkered top. Silas watched as Jamar explained each piece and what all the pieces could do. Silas' pieces were white which meant he had to go first. When Silas tried to move his king onto a spot with his pawn, Jamar laughed.

"You can't do that," he said. "Only one piece is allowed to occupy a square at a time."

_You didn't say that._ Silas wanted to say. At least he didn't remember Jamar saying that. He moved his pawn up one space and then Jamar jumped one of his pieces over his pawns.

"I thought you couldn't do that," Silas said.

"You can't with a king, but you can with a knight, silly."

Silas jerked and then realized Jamar was not saying the name Malina called him. The rest of the game went from bad to worse as nearly everything Silas did had limitations. Jamar would take piece after piece until Jamar proclaimed checkmate, which meant Jamar won. Immediately afterward he began setting up the game again and they played five more games. By the end of the fifth game Silas' head hurt so badly he didn't think he would ever figure out the rules to this game.

"You're not paying attention," Jamar said. "Checkmate again."

"You win," Silas said without much enthusiasm.

Jamar swept his hands over the board. "You're no fun. You're way too easy to beat."

"Well, I've never played this game before."

"Never?"

"I've never even heard of chest."

Jamar let out a laugh. "Me either. Cause the name of this game is chess." He drew out the last 's' into a long hissing sound.

Silas let himself smile.

"What kind of games do you play with the others?"

Silas shrugged. "We don't really play games."

"That's stupid."

"Yeah."

There was a knock on the door.

"What?" Jamar yelled.

"Your father wants you to meet with him for dinner and I am to take the Carillian back to the ward." It was Tymas.

"Just a minute." Jamar stood up. He checked his appearance in the mirror above his dresser and then kicked the chess board and pieces under his bed.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jamar said, right before opening his door.

"Okay."

Tymas stood with a curl in his lips when he saw Jamar. He didn't wait for Jamar's permission, but he took one step into the room, grabbed Silas' arm and pulled him out. Silas glanced back and Jamar waved to him a small smile on his face. Before Silas could wave back, he was propelled down the stairs.

Everyone was lined up for dinner as Silas entered the boys ward.

"Move," Tymas said when they reached Silas' spot in line. Patton glanced back, as if he had to check that Silas was all there first, and then he inched up so Silas could stand behind him.

Tymas disappeared out of Silas' view and the cafeteria doors opened allowing the boys to start filing in. As they inched forward, Silas could hear frustrated and grumbled breathing by those who had received their food. Patton held out his tray and got ten leaves of lettuce and an orange slice. Silas expected the same, but the lady paused to look at him.

"Number?" she asked.

"800190," Silas said automatically.

She didn't look at him but plopped a large scoop of lasagna in addition to the salad and a whole orange on his tray.

"Hey." The boy behind Silas complained when he saw that he didn't get the same.

"Move on," the lady said, sliding Silas' tray down the line.

Silas grabbed his tray and walked over to his seat near Patton. He slipped the orange off his tray and into his pocket as he walked to his table.

Patton's eyebrows arched when he saw the pile of food.

"You can have it," Silas offered and at once three different hands split the food on Silas' plate. He was still full from the large lunch he had and he didn't like the suspicious looks he was getting.

"Why'd you get so much food?" Patton asked.

Silas shook his head. "I don't know."

Chapter 10: Jamar

Jamar's feet practically danced down the hall. It was dinner time and he didn't think a day could move that fast. Silas was slow at chess, but overall a good sport. He was quiet and he managed to pick up basic blocks and strikes with a memory that surprised Jamar. Silas might even be a bit of a challenge when they were done. Jamar could pick them. If he could pat his own back without looking awkward, he would.

The best part about his interaction with Silas was that the whole time Jamar had been the teacher. Silas obviously didn't know anything. He spent half the time staring at the chessboard, as if he didn't know what any of the pieces were even though Jamar had explained them. The Car had learned much from him and it felt great to be the one with knowledge and power. Silas had never once belittled him, made him feel stupid or challenged his authority. Yes, Silas would be perfect.

Jamar laughed out loud remembering the looks on Silas' face as they played chess. Silas would scrunch his dark eyebrows when he concentrated in a way that made him look like a brown haired gibbon. If Jamar had been trying, he could have ended all their games sooner. There was no doubt which boy was superior. Then again, what did Jamar expect from a human without a medallion. Medallions were what separated the persons from the non-persons in the human species. Persons had value, as measured by their medallion's metal. Non-persons had no value, except for what a person decided they had. In Silas' case, he had some value because of what his father hoped to make from his e-mems or his children's e-mems, but that was it.

The smell of roast beef drew Jamar right to the dining room, the scent helped because Jamar wasn't sure which door was right when he first looked down the hallway. He grabbed the metal doorknob and twisted. Instead of the door opening, the handle turned to rust in his hands and crumpled to the floor. Jamar sighed and knocked three times. Once he was in charge he would switch out all the metal handles for hardened plastic. The frustration wasn't worth the elegance. He would never have had this happen to him if it weren't for a terrorist group during the Radiation Age who created paxis, a chemical that attacked steel and iron. Paxis would rust metal on the spot and millions of people were hurt, stranded or killed when automobiles, boats and airplanes crumbled around them. Some of the metal was saved from exposure and scientists found a glaze that protected the metal from corrosion, but the glaze didn't always work. It wore off or wasn't reapplied often enough to keep protecting it.

Jamar knocked and sighed again. He could smell the food and it was making him cranky. That one terrorist act made life so much more difficult. You could get stuck on the wrong side of a door and that wasn't all. Travel took forever, defending against enemies was harder and technology slowed to a dribble. But between the erosion of 70% of the earth's metal and the overuse of oil, new sources of energy had to be found and this had turned the Pelacroix family from average landowners to the number one energy producer of the country. In Jamar's mind it was the only good that had come from the loss of metal and the old way of life.

Foxworth, Lemuel's young Tirean aide, opened the door and saw that the other handle was missing.

"Have someone replace it," Jamar said and he swept past the aide into the room.

Lemuel was already seated with a full plate waiting in front of him. Jamar quickened his steps and sat to the left of his father where another plate of food waited.

"I trust your day was satisfactory," Lemuel said. He picked up his fork and Jamar followed suit.

"I had fun and the time went by faster than I thought."

"Just remember the Car is not a friend. Don't think of him that way and you should be fine."

"I know."

Lemuel slid over a small black controller. "I want you to carry this with you whenever the Car is around."

"What is it?" Jamar picked it up. There were three buttons on it with small words written under each of the buttons. One had the word shock, the second had the word stop and the third had the word paralyze.

"It is a Carillian controller. If he gets out of line, you can use it to punish him. I suggest only using the first two buttons, the third is sometimes permanent."

"Ok." Jamar slipped the controller into his pocket and took a bite of his roast beef.

"So what did you do?"

"We played chess for most of it and I taught him some moves with the sword so he won't be an idiot when I practice."

"That's fine, but you need to watch him. Cars are extremely tricky. They weren't always the lowest class and it is wise to remember that. They know they have more emotions than they should, so they hide their emotions and push them down deep where they think we will not find them. They think they can act like us, but they can't."

"Cause we're better, right?"

"We most certainly are. You don't see loyalty and love among the Cars. They can't make the same attachments to family that we can."

Jamar smiled at Lemuel, but his father was absorbed by another file.

There was a knock on the door and Tymas entered.

"Sir, the men are ready for your debrief. We have locked down the wards for the night and are completely at your disposal."

"Thank you, Tymas. I will be down shortly."

Tymas nodded and started to exit.

"Oh, and I'd like you to accompany my son tomorrow when he takes the Car out."

Tymas' back stiffened, but he only said, "Yes, sir," and left.

Jamar wondered if there was a way he could stick butter in the Faan's boots or pine needles under his sheets. He'd be patient and wait for the perfect opportunity. The Faan wouldn't know what hit him.

Lemuel pushed his chair back and left with an absent goodnight. Jamar didn't respond. It didn't matter, his father wouldn't hear it. He sat there until one of the Ajak servants came in to clear the table.

With a sigh, Jamar went back upstairs. He scanned the books in his room for anything he hadn't read yet. A history on Carillians caught his eye, he pulled it down and flipped through it. Most of the chapters contained information he already knew. Like how the Radiation Age changed some people to where they would have emotional outbursts. Carl E. Lyons, a rich and influential member of society, was the first patient to be diagnosed. He died five years later when he started a screaming match with hospital security. Then he ran through three walls and got a rusty water pipe stuck in his liver. At first Lyons and others like him were hospitalized, but when they realized the effects were permanent all the patients were removed to a holding zone in the west.

The book went on in detail about the first Carillian state and then how they tried to break away from the union because they felt they weren't getting the proper representation. That is what started the war. Everyone was involved with it. Ajaks also wanted to break away and the Faans tried to stay out of it, but finally had to pick sides when the Carillian army reached the capital. The Tireans convinced the Faans to fight with them and the Carillian War was won.

Jamar tossed the book to the floor. He hoped Silas had some of his ancestors' talent with fighting. It would be nice to have a challenge. Not too much of a challenge though.

Maybe he could get a packed lunch from the kitchen and they could explore some of the nearby woods. Since this was all his property, it would be fun to show Silas how much he owned. They could have an adventure.

Jamar leaned back in his bed and smiled. Tomorrow something big would happen. He was sure of it.

Chapter 11: Silas

"So what happened to you?" Patton asked when he heard Silas' morning stretch.

Silas closed his eyes and stopped moving.

"I know you're awake. Tell me what happened." Two pairs of legs swung over the side of the top bunk and Patton hung his head over the edge.

Silas rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Nothing. The Tirean is bored and wants someone to keep him company. We played games most of the day."

"Really? That's it?" Patton looked disappointed.

"Yep."

"I thought for sure you were gone."

"Me too."

"How are your new books?" Silas asked. He didn't want to go into any more details.

Patton took the bait. "One is the fifth book in a science series that they gave me books one and two last month. I don't know if they can't count or didn't think I'd need books three and four. The other book is about climate changes and the last one is about political theories of the 21st century."

All Silas did was ask, "Are they interesting?"

Patton went on and on about the information each chapter contained. Silas would nod every now and then, so Patton would think he was still listening, but all Silas could think about was that he might be going outside today.

It was the biggest break Silas had made in the escape planning department and might possibly be bigger than Malina's spying out the control room. Being outside the walls would give Silas a chance to discover what was out there. He'd have an idea of which way they should go when they got out. Perhaps he should take one of the pages out of Patton's books so he could draw some kind of sketch of where the nearest town was or how far it was to the woods. He could see trees above the wall and mountains in the distance. Yet he didn't know exactly how far they were and how hard it would be to find food while they were trying to get there.

Malina didn't seem to mind taking risks, but Silas was more cautious. He could probably get Jamar to start talking about the area and learn more than he wanted.

The breakfast bell rang and Patton jumped down to line up by the door. Silas stretched his limbs as he stood. He felt a slight tingle in his stomach when he thought about going out of the walls. He could almost taste the fresh air. The thought of being free filled his mind so that he didn't even notice their breakfast portion of food was small again. Two tablespoons of eggs and an inch of bacon was all he had on his plate. He didn't bother saving either of those.

Dark expressions filled the room. One boy two tables down shook so hard his face turned red and all the forks on the table rattled. Next to him Stephen's mouth moved, probably trying to calm him down. And that boy was not the only one. Silas saw most of the older boys with some form of clenched teeth or closed fists. Glares were directed at the guards or the food dispenser every few seconds. The scent of frustration, like an oily, overworked sweat, filled the air and almost choked Silas. The boys were not happy, especially the older boys. They passed secret messages in angry looks and quiet nods that threatened violence.

Even Sebastian seemed subdued. He didn't laugh at the boy whose face was red or another boy who was shaking at Sebastian's table. He didn't do anything to calm the boy, but he was also not doing anything to make it worse.

Silas wondered if the girls were reacting this way too. He didn't think Malina would let something like less food get to her, but he hadn't had a chance to talk with her since their meal portions were decreased. For the briefest moment he wished he weren't going to spend time with Jamar.

As everyone lined up to go outside, Silas felt a thick hand grip his shoulder.

"Come with me," Tymas said.

Silas stepped out of line and followed Tymas. To Silas' surprise they entered the control room, where Tymas pushed Silas so his back touched the wall and told him not to move an inch. The bell for the doors rang and Silas listened as the boys filed out into the yard and began running laps with Stephen at the head of the line. Tymas rummaged through some boxes on the highest shelf.

Since he was waiting, Silas took the moment to look around. The room was big enough for Tymas and two other guards to work inside, as long as one of them stayed seated. There were wooden shelves pegged into the walls with one high shelf that went around the whole room. The desk was also made of wood and had three monitors running on it. One showed the empty hall in the girls ward, the middle showed the Carillians running in the yard and the third was split into four blocks that showed two sides of the cafeteria, the boys ward hallway and a blank screen.

Malina was right about the recording system. The shelf below the one Tymas was searching held security feeds. The whole shelf was covered in dust and all the labels were dated fifty years ago. Beneath the monitors was another shelf covered in dust and three wires that were rusted and frayed at the tips. They had connected to something once upon a time, but it was gone now.

Tymas grunted and pulled out a silver, plastic disk from one of the boxes. He walked over to Silas and attached the disk around Silas' neck. Then he pressed something on the back and the disk started to hum. A green light flashed and then held steady.

"If you take this off, your head will explode," Tymas said with a cold grin.

Silas nodded that he understood and Tymas took him main house where they both waited by two large front doors. The whole floor seemed silent. Tymas didn't move and so Silas kept still.

The minutes ticked by. He heard something walking on the nearby stairs, but the footsteps disappeared upward and he never saw who they belonged to. It felt strange to be wearing something around his neck. The disk's edges were sharp and dug into his skin. He wanted to touch it and feel how it worked, but didn't think Tymas would approve.

In a distant floor above them a door slammed. Feet crashed down the stairs and Jamar appeared.

"Here," Jamar said. He held out a blue and gray knapsack with the hilts of two swords sticking out to Silas and pointed to a basket near the door. "Don't forget the food."

Silas slipped the knapsack on, picked up the basket and watched as the large doors opened. Sunlight flowed from everywhere and Silas realized this was because there were no walls to limit it. The grass shimmered with dew and the line of trees where the woods began even had shafts of light penetrating them.

There was no hesitation for Jamar. He hopped down the steps and took off for the trees with a fast walk. Tymas practically pushed Silas through the door and at once Silas felt like he had to run. He let his pace speed up until he reached Jamar and then he forced himself to slow down, even though his feet knew they were supposed to be running now like the rest of the yard.

Silas looked around him. To his right a gravel path continued around the walls of the Cartiam and then split with the right path disappearing around the Cartiam. He could see buildings in the distance, which the left side of the path led to, one that looked like a stable and the other could have been a large storage shed. A fenced in field rolled away from the stable and butted alongside a distant edge of the forest. The field continued up a far hill and beyond where Silas couldn't see. To his left the woods continued in a wide circle around the Cartiam and behind the woods were the mountains. Straight ahead there was a smaller hill covered in vegetation that slid down into the forest and taller trees.

Silas made a mental note that the path went right and the mountains were on the left. It made sense that if there were towns in the area they would be connected to the path.

"Here should be good," Tymas said when they were halfway between the wall and the trees.

"No." Jamar shook his head and Silas caught a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "I need to practice in terrain. I heard there's a clearing half a mile from here that should do nicely."

Tymas grunted, but did not argue and the three of them entered the woods. There was a wide space in between the trees, almost like a path but overgrown with grass, and Jamar led them down the center of it.

"Do you see this?" Jamar asked. He kicked at a bunch of loose gray rocks that littered the ground.

"They're rocks." Silas looked down at them, careful not to let the knapsack and the basket of food throw him off balance.

Jamar laughed. "Have you ever seen rocks like this? No, they're pieces of pavement from an old highway that used to cut through here. Look," Jamar picked up a small rock. "See this one has a bit of yellow paint on it."

"Why did they paint the road?"

"I don't know, maybe they thought it needed some color." Jamar let the piece of pavement fall and they kept walking.

The woods had a sound all their own. Like a stillness that magnified even the smallest sound. A single drop of water disappeared in a crackle of dried leaves. Silas kept hearing sticks and dried grass snap and crunch underfoot. The trees were so tall that their leaves created a ceiling.

It took them longer to get to the clearing than Silas thought. He had to readjust the basket several times to keep it from digging into his hand. At last, the trees thinned out and a grassy meadow appeared. Silas wasn't sure, but it looked like there might have been another road that intersected this one, but it had been smaller and was more overgrown.

"Just put the basket by the tree and bring the swords," Jamar commanded. Then he turned to Tymas. "You can wait with the food."

Silas placed the basket by a smooth trunk and pulled the swords out of the knapsack.

"Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

Silas nodded. He'd gone through the movements in his mind over and over before he fell asleep. The moment Jamar's sword was in his hand he swung it at Silas' head. Silas surprised himself by automatically remembering one of the high blocks.

"Wrong one," Jamar said. He slid his sword away from Silas' hands so that Silas couldn't hold the weight properly and Jamar's blade hit Silas in the shoulder.

"See." Jamar attacked again and this time Silas used the right block. "Now you try attacking."

Silas swung at Jamar's left shoulder and Jamar blocked it and swung his sword back so it was touching Silas' chest. It was not a move Silas had seen before.

"You're dead. Try again."

This time Silas swung at Jamar's right. Jamar stepped to the side and knocked Silas' sword out of his hand.

"Again."

Silas picked up the sword and made a swipe at Jamar's right leg. Jamar blocked it and threw a strike at Silas' left side that Silas barely managed to block. Jamar wasn't teaching him like he did the day before. Silas felt completely overwhelmed, especially when some of the moves Jamar did couldn't be blocked effectively with the blocks he knew. But Silas wanted to learn what he could and there was no good reason for Jamar to teach him more.

He was surprised the owner would let Jamar teach Silas how to fight at all. Carillians and fighting were not normally mixed. If Silas was purely looking at the circumstances from a Tirean point of view, teaching fighting to Carillians made no sense. It would only be giving Carillians the tools they needed to rise up and demand freedom.

This was an opportunity, one Silas was willing to take and learn all he could. Although it was frustrating to not know what Jamar was doing, Silas turned his focus from the millions of strikes and blocks he didn't know to just watching the way Jamar moved. Silas might not be able to know the correct positions, but he hoped he could tell by the way Jamar would lift an elbow or twisted his knee, the general direction Jamar was going to attack next. It didn't work as often as Silas would like because Jamar never seemed to use the same attack or block twice. Once Silas thought he knew what Jamar was going to do and he threw up a quick block that surprised Jamar. It gave Silas the split second he needed to work in an attack of his own, which Jamar quickly knocked to the side, but it made Silas almost feel as if he'd accomplished something.

They continued going back and forth until Silas couldn't remember how many times his sword had been knocked to the ground. Even though Jamar kept finding new moves to surprise him, Silas thought he was getting better at protecting himself and not letting his sword fly out of his hand on the first blow. To Silas' shock they fought for 20 seconds straight before Jamar stuck his sword in Silas' chest and said, "You died again." But Jamar's chest was heaving and Silas was covered in sweat that kept stinging into his eyes. His hand shook when he held his sword out.

"Let's eat," Jamar said.

Silas nodded, grateful that he could rest.

They both turned back to the tree where Tymas was sitting. Silas noticed how all the grass around them was flattened, squashed into footprints and crumbled mounds of broken pavement. Taking two steps to the left, Silas tried to create a path back to the tree that he couldn't see afterward, but every place he stepped left a broken gap in the otherwise straight grass. He had to remember that. When they were escaping he'd have to make sure they didn't leave trails for others to see.

Jamar dug into the basket and pulled out some ham sandwiches and a thermos of lemonade.

"We're going to eat on the other side of the clearing," Jamar told Tymas. "You can stay here. We'll call if we need anything."

Tymas just shrugged and leaned against the tree, with his eyes closed.

With loud stomps and exaggerated shuffles, Jamar Left with the food. He motioned for Silas to do the same. Silas followed, but didn't make an effort at the extra noise. Before they were in the middle of the clearing, Jamar ducked down and peered back at Tymas.

"Look at this," Jamar whispered. On the ground was an ant hill. Silas had seen them before in the yard. The younger boys liked to step on them and watch the ants come swarming out. The ants could bite, so it was a game to see how long the boys could stay close to the ant hill before they had to jump out of reach.

"There's another ant hill a few yards away from where Tymas is. Go sneak back and step on it." Jamar's mouth twisted in mischief.

Silas glanced back at the resting Tymas. Even lying down the man was huge and he would be very angry.

"I can't do that," Silas said.

"What? Are you scared?" Jamar taunted.

"No, I don't think I could go back without him knowing I was there. Besides, I will have to live with him when you are gone."

"Fine." Jamar stood up. "It will be more satisfying if I do it anyway."

Silas watched, crouched down as Jamar tiptoed back. Jamar carefully planted his feet so they wouldn't make the dried grass snap. There were a few times when Silas heard a faint rustle, but he could also see Jamar's movements so he knew to connect the sounds with that. Tymas didn't appear to notice anything. His eyes stayed shut and his breathing was slow.

Jamar inched closer and to the side. Then he smashed his foot down and tiptoed back. The whole time he giggled silently.

"Let's go," Jamar said. "I don't want him to see us when he does wake up."

Silas nodded and both boys jogged the rest of the way to the other side of the clearing. Without any hesitation, Jamar jumped into the trees and kept going. Silas stayed on Jamar's heels.

"I almost wish I could be there to see his face," Jamar said with a laugh. "Did you bring the...."

Jamar stopped so suddenly that Silas almost ran into him.

"Bring what?" Silas asked.

Jamar backed up and tripped over Silas' foot. That's when Silas saw what had made Jamar stop. A black bear that looked twice the size of Tymas was climbing down from a giant maple tree. It dropped to all fours and sniffed at them.

Silas froze.

Jamar scrambled to get up. The black bear sniffed and grunted.

"Stop!" Silas hissed down at Jamar.

"It's going to attack."

The bear took a step toward them and Silas instantly wanted to run, but something held him. This was like the yard. New kids were coming in all the time and the older ones wanted to know what the new ones were made of. The older ones just wanted the new kids to know that there was a system in the yard, rules that had to be obeyed and a pecking order that had to be followed. Like the new boy Sebastian tried to pick on.

And remembering the new boy gave Silas an idea. He threw his hands above his head, took a step closer to the bear and roared as loud as he could.

Chapter 12: Jamar

Jamar couldn't move as the bear looked from him to Silas. Again Silas roared, a raw, feral scream. The bear sniffed at them and Silas roared again. Jamar gathered his feet under him, preparing to run. Then to Jamar's surprise, the bear walked away, twigs and branches snapping in its wake. It was gone.

"I can't believe that worked," Jamar said.

"Yeah," was all Silas said.

Another thought hit Jamar. He pushed himself up and frowned.

"Why didn't you run?" Jamar asked.

"The bear might have chased us and you were on the ground."

"But you could have gotten away."

"This worked out better."

A chill stitched itself up and down Jamar's back. Silas had knowingly chosen to save his life. A Car had bravely stepped between him and a bear and all Jamar had wanted to do was run away. Was it even possible for Carillians to be brave? Were they capable of courage and honor? Until a few moments ago Jamar might have laughed at the idea, but now....

He kept picturing how he tripped and fell and how Silas took a step forward. Not just straight ahead, but there had been an angle to his foot that hid Jamar from the bear's attention and forced the bear to consider Silas. Jamar couldn't deny the truth. A Carillian had saved his life. Somehow the boy he could beat so easily in chess and sword fighting had proven to be more superior in actual battle. His life would have been lost; he owed Silas a debt now.

He'd never felt a debt this keenly before. True, there was the debt he owed his parents for giving him life, but that was something he repaid by working hard and earning a gold medallion. And it was something he would continue to repay when he took over the family lands and business. Yet how would he repay a debt to Silas? The thought troubled him and he wished Silas had let the bear eat him. It would have kept life simple.

Another deep roar hit the air. This one from Tymas and it took a second for Jamar to realize the ants must have done their job. He allowed himself a pleased smile. They weren't even yet, but they were closer.

"Give me a sandwich," Jamar said. He'd let Tymas worry about them for a few minutes. Silas handed Jamar a sandwich before getting one out for himself and they ate. When they were finished, Jamar stood and stretched.

"Let's go," he said and it felt good for a moment when Silas started to follow him, but there was a small feeling that perhaps Silas should be the one giving the orders or at least that Jamar should use a less demanding tone.

When they got to the clearing it was empty. Jamar went back to the tree and checked the basket for any other food they might have left. There was a small bag of cookies and the ants hadn't found them. He thought about eating the whole bag, but something didn't feel right about it.

"Here you want some?" Jamar took three cookies out of the bag and offered the rest to Silas.

"Sure," Silas said and he took a bite. "Wow, these are good."

Jamar smiled. It felt warm and light to share with Silas. He didn't think showing kindness could do that.

"There you are," Tymas growled. He stormed toward them with his eyebrows knitted together and his fists clenched. "Where did you go?"

"We were just walking around," Jamar said. He fixed his gaze on Tymas and refused to look away. "Where were you?"

"We are going back now. There is a bear in the woods."

"Really?" Jamar feigned surprise.

The Faan's eyes narrowed.

"Did you see the bear?" he asked, the question was directed at Silas.

Jamar stepped slightly in front of Silas. "As you can see, we are perfectly fine. If we did see this bear, everything is okay now."

Tymas snorted. He looked over Jamar's shoulder at Silas and said, "Get the stuff. We're leaving."

Anger burned inside Jamar. How dare he order Silas around. He was about to say something, but Silas had already picked up the swords and the basket. This time Tymas shadowed them like the plague. He was alerted to any rustle and snap. If there was a slow in the pace, Tymas was quick to push them on.

Once they were back inside the Cartiam, the Faan took Silas back to his cell and Jamar was alone. He took his time going up the stairs, entering his room, taking off his boots. With a sigh he flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling, a boring white paint with wood trim around the edges.

Today had more adventure than Jamar thought it would and it revealed more than he thought possible. When Jamar saw the bear he had felt all weak inside. His knees had buckled when he tried to step back and he'd fallen to the ground. It had never once crossed his mind to stand up against the bear. He'd never even thought of saving Silas. If Silas had tripped, Jamar would have left him there and perhaps even watched the bear attack from a safe distance. But what if he had planned to stay? He could have saved the life of a nobody, a Carillian. Where was the honor in that?

He closed his eyes and pictured the scene again. This time Silas was in front and when they saw the bear Silas cowered, clutching at Jamar's knees, while Jamar drew his sword and stared the bear down. Jamar would be the hero and forget what Silas had done. Then perhaps he could also forget that he owed Silas. The moment felt inspiring for an instant, but there was a hollow ring to it and his heart refused to accept the scene as truth. No matter what he thought about Carillians there would be no way to get out of owing his life to one and he would always know that deep inside.

A soft knock on the door was just the interruption Jamar was looking for. There was no point in wondering how he would deal with this strange turn of event. He'd figure it out later.

"Your father asks to see you in his study," a servant girl said through the door.

Jamar hopped up, checked his appearance and put on his inside shoes. He reached the door knob right as the servant began to knock again.

"I heard you," Jamar said his back straight and he held his chin up as he swept out into the hall.

"I'm sorry," she said backing out of the way, her hand clutched in front of her.

It was so easy to intimidate the servants and it made Jamar smile. He smiled until he opened the door to Lemuel's study and saw Tymas standing in the room.

Lemuel fixed his eyes on Jamar and said, "Several events have been brought to my attention."

Jamar held his breath. His mind flipped through the possible excuses he could give about the bear.

Lemuel placed his hands on his desk. "I heard that you purposefully disturbed an ant hill near this guard."

Jamar smirked. "It's not my fault if he sleeps on the job."

"I was not asleep. I saw you do it." Tymas folded his arms and glared.

"Then why didn't you move?" Jamar met his gaze. This was working out to be a better revenge than he'd thought. Not only did he have Tymas bitten by ants, but now Tymas looked like an incompetent fool for a guard.

"I--"

"You may go," Lemeul said waving a hand at the door.

"Sir, I was not asleep. He is conniving...they ran away from me and he lied about seeing a bear."

Lemuel just pointed to the door again and Tymas spun on his heels and stomped out.

"This brings me to another concern. Tymas informed me that the forest was not safe. There was a bear in your area and you saw it."

"There was...but we scared it away."

"You scared it away?"

Jamar nodded and he swallowed the urge to correct Lemuel. What did it matter if his father thought Jamar had a part in scaring off the bear?

"Tell me what happened."

"The Carillian and I were walking in the woods and we saw a bear. We yelled at it and then it ran away."

"You and the Car?" Lemuel's tone indicated he was not convinced. There was an implied _Don't lie to me_ in his tone.

"Well, it was really just...me."

Lemuel nodded seemingly completely satisfied. "You should never hesitate to take credit for your actions. I'm glad that you had the presence of mind to scare the bear away. Were you afraid?"

"A little."

Lemuel's lips twitched in disappointment. "Well, now you know better than to be afraid next time. At least the Car got to see your true superiority in action." Lemuel stood up from his desk and ran his fingers along the books on the shelf.

Jamar glanced down at the carpet.

"I want you to read this." Lemuel held out a thick loose leaf binder.

"What is it?" Jamar took the binder in both hands.

"It is a record of every Car in the Cartiam. It lists all their information and projected incomes. Read it and give me a report on where you see the company going in five years tomorrow."

"Yes sir," Jamar said.

"Now, I have a lot of work to do. We are preparing for something and I want everything to be accounted for and ready."

Jamar nodded and when his father looked down at the papers on his desk, Jamar left.

Up in his room, Jamar opened the binder to the first page. It listed all the Cars, first by age with the oldest in the front, then by number. The first entry was a girl who turned 18 five days ago. She was estimated at around $110k when she was harvested. There was a recommendation that she not be selected for the farm. A whole page was devoted to the profits they had made from other members in her family. Her older sister had given a small 75 e-mems at her harvest. Her older brothers had given 105 and 126 e-mems, which was still on the lower side. They would not want to keep her family line going.

The second entry was a 17 year old boy, estimated at $220k. His family line normally did not produce as much as he was estimated for, their harvest worth was closer to $145k, but there was a note in his file that he was in Project High. Jamar flipped through the rest of the book looking for something that would explain what Project High was. Several other Cars were also in Project High, but none of the notes said more than that. Toward the middle of the binder a number jumped out at Jamar: 800190. Silas.

Jamar readjusted the pages and leaned closer. Silas was estimated at $150k, although his current worth was 70 dollars. That was it. His monthly care bill cost more. Underneath his estimation was a note that he was not mature yet. They would definitely want to wait until he matured, otherwise they would lose years worth of investment. His family had been a bit more profitable than the first two entries. Both his older sisters had brought in about $165k. Jamar pulled out the paper from its' protective sheet and a small note fluttered down the side of his bed.

He scooped it up and turned it over. In his father's tiny print were the words: _Could be worth more. Watch this one_.

Why would Silas be worth more? And why would his father want to keep an eye on him?

Chapter 13: Silas

The tray clattered from Malina's hands to the floor scattering plates and forks in the aisle and under the table. The noise in the cafeteria didn't quiet, everything seemed normal. Even their food portions were closer to what they used to be and Silas' wasn't sure if it was because the cafeteria lady who normally served them was not there or if it was because the people in charge realized how close things were to getting out of hand. Silas picked up the fork by his foot and held it out as he leaned his head closer to where Malina knelt.

"Where have you been?" Malina asked. Her hands groped the floor, taking their time to pick things up.

"The son of the owner wants someone to keep him company," Silas whispered.

"I thought they had taken you."

"I'm fine." Silas wiggled the fork between his fingers.

"I managed to talk to Cortez in the girls ward yesterday."

"You did?"

"He might be willing to help us escape. He would open our doors and take us out of the wall for a price."

"What does he want?"

"That's the bad news. He wants five thousand dollars." Malina reached under the opposite table and grabbed a fork.

Five thousand dollars? Silas' heart sank. They didn't have money. He wasn't even sure he would know what to do with it if he did. They might have to figure something else out and Silas wasn't sure where to begin.

"I'll try to talk him down next time."

"Ok." Silas shook his head. He didn't think it would do any good, but it wouldn't hurt to try.

She gave him a small flash of a smile and snatched up the last plate. Their moment was ending and he didn't even tell her what he'd learned.

Silas touched her hand and quickly blurted, "I was outside the walls today."

"What?" Malina's voice was a tad too loud.

"I was outside the walls," Silas said even quieter.

"What did you do?"

"I played games with the owner's son, Jamar. And now I know which way we should go when we get out." Silas almost said 'if' instead of 'when,' but he caught himself in time.

"What do you think of this boy, Jamar?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think he would help us get beyond the wall?"

Silas hesitated. "I don't know."

Jamar didn't seem to notice anything that did not concern him. What would he care about two Carillians who wanted to escape his father's business? Silas would have to know more about Jamar before he could trust him with something like this. But he couldn't help remembering the way Jamar looked at him after the bear, as if he were seeing him as more than a piece of gum that could be disposed of. He'd have to wait and see.

"Yesterday in the yard I saw Freddie remove his implant."

"Which one is Freddie?" Silas asked.

"He's a year older than me. The tall one with white blonde hair."

Silas glanced up at the older boy's table and spotted one he recognized with blonde hair. "And a scar above his eyebrow?"

"Yeah. He dug the implant out of Dan the guy eating next to him. Some of us older ones stood together to block the guards from seeing it. I saw it after they were done. The implant is only a half inch long and as thick as a twig."

Silas felt completely out of the loop. How long had he been away from the yard? Just two days? It seemed longer than that. He was glad that she'd been a part of another group that could keep her calm.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Aside from worrying about you, I've been fine." Malina took the fork from Silas' hand and walked away.

Was she mad? It wasn't like Silas could have done anything to tell her he was all right. Half the time he wasn't even sure he would be.

Silas watched Malina put her tray away. His eyes flitted from one guard to the next and settled back on the table with the older boys. Their back muscles seemed tense and although they brought utensils to their mouths it was too slow and robotic for natural behavior. Dan, the guy sitting next to Freddie, had his brown hair long and his shirt pulled high on his neck. Silas thought he could make out a dark spot on the collar that might have been blood.

He turned back to what was left on his plate, a half eaten hamburger patty, no bun, and three soggy fries. In no time he finished them off and still felt hungry. It must have been all the sword fighting he did and the surprise with seeing a real bear. Everyone at his table seemed hungry too. He wondered if lunch in the cafeteria had been as bad as it was yesterday.

The bell rang and everyone stood up and started to get in line. Dan and Freddie didn't get up at first, but then they both stood, taking their time to step away from the table. Still they lined up and the boys' line started moving into the hall. Silas was almost out of the door when he heard a guy yell. Someone bumped Silas' shoulder and he turned to see Hugle being thrown against the cafeteria wall. The guard's eyes were wide and he fumbled with the baton on his belt, but Dan didn't let him have a second. Dan jumped on Hugle and began pounding him in the face.

"Get the other one," Dan yelled over his shoulder and Silas watched Freddie shove boys out of his way as he ran to where Westminster was last seen in the hall.

Hugle tried to throw a punch, but it had no power and then his whole body when limp, although that didn't stop Dan from beating him more. A piercing siren filled the air and some of the boys ran into their cell, others huddled against the wall.

"Are you going to help?" Marcus asked as he jogged past Silas.

"You're crazy," Patton yelled from right behind Silas.

Silas nearly jumped. He'd forgotten Patton was there. Before he could decide what to do, Westminster rushed into the cafeteria. Boys scrambled to get out of his way, but Silas couldn't move. Freddie and Dan ran at Westminster. He aimed a controller at them and pressed a button, but nothing happened. He didn't even have time to glance down at the controller before the guys were on him. They knock him to the ground and began kicking him.

Then Dan jumped the kitchen counter and began smashing the food dispensers. Freddie disappeared into one of the back rooms. He returned with his arms loaded with bread.

"Here! The back is full of them," Freddie yelled and threw whole loaves of bread at the boys. Stephen snatched one out of the air, ripped off the plastic and passed out the slices. Boys snatched them and began stuffing their mouths. Marcus jumped the counter too, grabbed some bread and rushed out into the hall where he began passing it out to the younger boys. There were some cheers as Dan pulled off the food dispenser's door. But they never got to see what was inside.

The siren blaring in the speakers stopped and there was a sharp click sound instead. Instantly Silas felt his neck and head explode with pain. A high pitched drone filled his ears and grew louder and louder until he couldn't hear anything else. He grabbed his head and tried to press the noise away, but it didn't help. Silas stumbled and hit the wall. He could see the boys left in the hall falling to their knees and writhing in pain. Only Freddie and Dan were still upright and they left the food dispenser to block the cafeteria doors.

They didn't make it there in time. The doors flew open and Tymas was waiting for them with a taser. It hit Dan in the chest and threw him into the nearest wall. Freddie turned to run and Tymas shot him in the back.

The pain slowly began to fade from Silas' mind, but his ears kept ringing. He couldn't hear anything Tymas said, but it was clear that everyone was to go in their cells or else. Lloyd appeared in the doorway behind Tymas and walked over to where Freddie had fallen. He placed a collar around Freddie's neck and moved to do the same with Dan.

Silas could barely hold himself upright, but Tymas was not going to wait. He stomped over and started throwing boys into the hall. Panic hit those left in the cafeteria as all the boys scrambled to get back to their cells. Patton stumbled into Silas and pushed off of him so that Silas stumbled back into the wall. His head buzzed even more and he was seeing black and white spots as he groped along the wall for his cell opening. He could feel Tymas banging behind him and pushed himself to move faster. The more he moved the more spots he saw until he couldn't see anything and his head felt like it was spinning.

He managed to feel Patton dive into a cell and he followed. Fumbling to his left he found his bunk bed and slipped onto the mattress before he could pass out, but he felt so dizzy he wasn't sure he would be able to stand up if he had to. The cell door slammed shut and Patton groaned from somewhere on the floor. He hadn't made it to his bed.

Silas closed his eyes and tried not to count the beats of his heart by the pounding in his head. There seemed to be nothing he could do but lay completely still for what seemed like hours. He breathed in and out willing his heart to slow back down and as it did he began to notice dull tingling in his fingers and toes. When his head hurt he must have blocked them out and now that his head was calming down other areas wanted the attention.

This was the first time Silas had ever felt the implant and it was enough that he never wanted to feel it again. Patton tried to get up and climb into the top bunk, but he must have moved too soon. Seconds later he was emptying his stomach into their toilet. The sound made Silas' stomach quiver and he quickly jammed his fingers in his ears.

_Think of something else quick_.

The light in their cell began to brighten and dim like a strobe light set to a meaningless Morse code pattern. The Machine was running. Silas wondered if it was Freddie or Dan, but that gave his stomach a new sick feeling. He curled up into a ball and rolled over so all he could see was the pitted concrete wall. With no other choice left he watched the lights as they cast looming shadows over and over again.

Chapter 14: Silas

The next day rose like a cactus through broken sidewalk. Silas hadn't slept much at all that night and the moment he tried to stand up his head felt like it would split in two and fall off. Patton had slept on the floor near the toilet and didn't seem to be feeling much better. He groaned and splashed water on his face. When the bell rang Silas stumble to get in line.

It took Patton much longer and when the doors opened and he entered the hall, Silas could see that everyone was feeling pretty much the same. Eyes were red, hair stuck straight up on guys who usually cared and there was a general shuffling of feet that was not normally heard on the way to breakfast. Yet for how tired the boys were, there was also a tension that only increased when the breakfast rations were the size of a tablespoon.

The food dispenser had been replaced. But there were still scuff marks on the counter and dents in the wall. Two broken chairs were tossed into the corner with a three-legged table. The rest of the cafeteria was business as usual. Silas sagged into his seat and tried not to think of how hungry he was.

"To Freddie and Dan," Stephen said before popping all of his food in his mouth.

Marcus nodded and glared over his shoulder at where Tymas stood. "We need to do something."

"Like what?" Patton asked. "You saw what happened when they tried to do something. What makes you think your idea would work any better?"

Stephen let out a frustrated sigh. "And doing nothing is better? Just letting them walk over us and do whatever they want?"

Patton shrugged. "All I'm saying is that the way Freddie and Dan went about it obviously doesn't work."

"Don't say their names," Marcus hissed leaning over the table. "Dan was my cellmate and he didn't deserve that."

"Cool down," Stephen said quietly. He jerked his chin at where Westminster, newly patched up, was talking to Lloyd. Both guards looked in their directions and then Lloyd made his way over to their table.

Stephen and Marcus settled into their seats, their backs straight, while Patton just ducked his head and Silas fiddled with his spoon. Instead of walking past them, Lloyd stood right behind Silas and said, "800190, you need to come with me."

Marcus shot Silas an angry look. It was one Silas understood. Life in the Cartiam was structured by routine and Silas leaving the group in the morning and returning in the afternoon was not a part of that routine. Anything out of the ordinary was suspicious, untrustworthy.

As he stood up, Silas tried to ignore the questioning look in Stephen' eyes, the one that asked why he was going somewhere else again. He followed Lloyd out of the cafeteria and into the control room where the collar was attached around his neck. Then Silas followed Lloyd into the main house.

They arrived just in time to see Jamar hop down the last steps.

"We're going outside again today," Jamar announced and he pointed to the bag at the bottom of the stairs. Lloyd didn't say anything, so Silas walked over to the bag and picked it up. They exited the big doors and Silas walked out into the bright sunshine. There was something about stepping into the light without a wall in the distance that made Silas feel lighter, giddy almost. He could run in a straight line that went on forever. He wasn't penned in. Jamar didn't charge into the woods like they had last time. Instead he stopped when they were twenty feet from the door.

"The weather is perfect. You can almost see the main mountain range," Jamar said pointing to the large hills in the distance.

"Is the town close to the mountains?" Silas asked. He glanced at the bag's cloth strap and pulled at a loose string.

"Pretty close."

"Closer than we are to the town?"

Jamar laughed and turned to face the path that led to the town. "Maybe. Why? Are you thinking of escaping?"

Silas let out a small laugh and Jamar didn't seem to notice, although it sounded more forced to Silas' ear than he would have liked.

"Get the swords out," Jamar said his back still facing Silas.

Crouching over the bag, Silas fished the two swords out.

"Here," Silas said. He held both hilts out because he couldn't remember which one Jamar used. Jamar spun around and took the sword on the right. He pulled it out so fast Silas had to jerk his hand to keep from getting cut.

"Ready?" Jamar asked.

Silas grabbed the hilt of his sword and discovered his hand was already sore, but he nodded and said, "I think so."

In a flash, Jamar swung at his chest and Silas had time to block. Then he swung at Silas' head and followed up with a swipe at his legs. Both of which Silas had time to block. Perhaps Jamar was warming up, because the blows didn't come as fast or quite as hard as they had the day before. Even so, Silas' palm hurt and it was hard to hold the sword tight. Jamar swung again and this time Silas' sword flew out of his hand and landed ten feet away. Silas jogged over to get it and Jamar followed him.

"You know," Jamar said. "You're holding your sword too tight. If you just grip with your thumb and first two fingers, you will have better control. And let your two other fingers relax. It might help you hold onto it longer." Jamar laughed a bit after the last part.

Silas tried to loosen his ring and pinkie fingers, but they were so stiff they straightened out. It seemed there were only two extremes those fingers would allow: sticking out or tightly clenched. He shook his hand out and this time managed to get his fingers to relax some.

Jamar waited for Silas to look up and then attacked again. Silas blocked and his sword flopped to the ground.

"Now you're holding it too loose."

"I figured." Silas muttered.

He picked up his sword and faced Jamar.

"You try attacking," Jamar said.

Silas swung at Jamar's chest. Jamar stepped to the side and knocked Silas' sword to the ground.

"You're holding it too--"

"I know," Silas said picking up his sword.

"So hold it tighter." Jamar started to swing his sword at Silas' neck.

"What is going on?" A man asked. Silas glanced over his shoulder to see who it was and felt Jamar's sword crash into the collar around his neck. The blow was somewhat lighter than the others and Silas didn't think it had pierced the skin. The collar had managed to absorb most of the blow, but it felt looser than it was before.

Silas touched around the collar as a skinny man Silas had never seen before, with an incredibly thin neck that made his Adam's apple bob out, walked over to them. The tip of his fingernail caught on something. Sure enough, there was a crack in the collar. It was probably not designed to withstand a sword blow.

"Carlyle, you're here," Jamar said. His voice was high and pinched. A faint ringing sounded off in the distance.

"What is this?" Carlyle marched up to them.

"We're practicing."

"We?"

"I." Jamar corrected himself. His voice sounding more strained. "I'm practicing."

Carlyle turned his attention to Silas. His brown eyes narrowed as he took in Silas' faded brown shirt and pants and the collar around his neck.

"And this?" Carlyle asked his condescending tone rang in Silas' ears.

Jamar shrugged. "I needed someone my size to fight with and you aren't enough of a challenge."

The air whooshed around Silas and his whole head began to ring. Silas felt around the collar, but when he touched it again it zapped him and he started seeing spots. The ringing filled his ears and Silas felt his insides twist with the certainty of what was happening.

The implant was going off. Again. Silas started for the main doors. If he could get inside the walls, he hoped the implant would calm down and not make him sick.

Carlyle pointed his finger in Silas' face. "You will not leave until I say you can leave."

"My imp--" Silas started to explain, but Carlyle cuffed the side of his head and the ringing grew louder.

"You will not address me unless I ask you a direct question and then you will limit your response to one word. Do you understand?"

Silas tried to nod, but every movement made his head ache and his vision blur. He gritted his teeth and willed himself not to pass out. He heard Carlyle say something to Jamar and Jamar retorted back, but he couldn't understand anything except the sirens blaring inside his head. Darkness clouded around him. Sticking his hand in front of his eyes did nothing. For a moment he even wondered if his hand was really there and he kept moving it even though he couldn't see his own fingers.

Just as Silas thought he could get used to not seeing or hearing, the pain started. Like the crack of a whip it snapped down his spine and Silas couldn't keep his knees locked. He crumpled to the ground and some of his senses started to return in strobe flashes.

Jamar stared at Silas in surprise and took a step toward him.

Darkness and pain.

"--your father saw what I did, he would--" Carlyle was saying.

Silence.

Light again and Jamar was stomping away. Carlyle yelled something, but Jamar would not answer.

The cloud returned heavier than ever.

_Make it stop_. _Please make it stop_. Silas thought the words over and over. But the pain only increased until Silas' whole body shook and he thought for certain that he would pass out. Only his body must have had greater endurance than he thought and seconds, minutes and hours converged on him at once, until it seems as though he had been lying on the ground for an eternity. Every second the pressure in his head and around his spine increased by a small fraction that Silas could feel pounding in his temples. Even when he thought it couldn't get worse, the next moment it would. His head felt like it was about to explode. He knew he would die if someone didn't do something.

Chapter 15: Jamar

Jamar slammed the main door as hard as he could and took the stairs two by two. He hated Carlyle. He hated Tirean pride and their constant suspicion. What was worse is that now Carlyle thought Jamar considered Silas an equal. Which was totally wrong. Jamar knew he, and all Tireans, were superior. Maybe he treated Silas a bit better than he would other Cars or the lowest Ajaks, but he didn't think Silas was an equal.

"You were going to help him." Carlyle had accused, after Silas crumpled to the ground and Jamar instinctively moved toward him.

Jamar froze running through the various excuses he thought Carlyle might need to change his mind. He couldn't deny that he thought about going to Silas' aid. He'd moved when Silas fell and to deny it would only increase Carlyle's suspicion and confirm that Jamar was going to help a lower class. Tireans had to maintain their separateness from the lower classes to keep their status. So the only way to spin his reason for moving had to be something that would ultimately benefit him and the Tirean class.

Jamar turned his back on Silas and said, "Are you saying I'm not allowed to show concern over the potential loss of our product? We lose him now and we lose money."

"If your father saw what I did, he would agree there was more behind it than just the loss of product." Carlyle's eyes narrowed, but Jamar could see there was also a sliver of doubt.

"You think I care for this thing?" Jamar infused his tone with as much haughty disdain as he could manage. "He is nothing to me."

And Jamar had stomped away leaving Silas groaning in the grass. He didn't have a choice. It was the only way to throw Carlyle's suspicion off track.

When Jamar made it to the hall leading to his room he looked out the window three floors above the main entrance. The grass below him was bent and mashed from their sword fighting and to his relief no one was there. Jamar wasn't sure what had happened to Silas. He'd had some kind of epileptic fit and fallen to the ground holding his head. It might have been his emotions coming in. From what Jamar had read it was a painful process, although he'd never witnessed it.

He left the window in the hall and checked the window in his room that overlooked the yard. No one was out, which Jamar thought a bit strange. It wasn't lunchtime yet and after they had their morning run the Cars were allowed to play until lunch. He'd have to ask his father what was going on. Although he'd have to be careful how it was done because his ruse with Carlyle might get back to Lemuel.

Jamar sighed. He didn't want anything to ruin his relationship with his father. He'd spent much of his life with Lemuel since Prisca, Jamar's mother, wanted nothing to do with him. Even earning a gold medallion had done little to improve her opinion of him. She was of old blood. There were even some Tireans who didn't meet her qualifications. Jamar knew because he still didn't live up to her standards, which is why he traveled with Lemuel and didn't stay at home. Prisca didn't like having her life inconvenienced by those she considered unworthy, which was almost everyone.

Sometimes Jamar even thought she didn't consider Lemuel worth her time. His father was always tense when they were home. There were all these rules that Prisca expected to be obeyed and there was hell to pay if they were not. She'd screamed and shouted at Lemuel once so loud that the light fixtures in Jamar's room, two stories up, had rattled. It was just easier to stay away. For some reason though Prisca tolerated Carlyle's company better than most and would often require him to be at the house. Although what he did for her Jamar never knew and wouldn't ask. He doubted his mother was the affair type, besides Carlyle's family was even lower than Lemuel's since Carlyle's grandmother's mother had been Faan.

Jamar picked up the binder his father had given him and started to leaf through it again. He'd read the whole thing last night, but wanted to go over it one more time in case his father asked him questions. What interested Jamar the most about the binder was how it used genealogy to estimate what kind of profit could be expected. If the aunts and uncles were profitable than it was easier to assume the parents had similar genes and the kids would be equally profitable. The biggest issue for his father was knowing which to save for the farms and which to harvest. It wouldn't do to reap all the profitable kids and then be stuck with less desirable stock. Neither would it make for a good profit to only reap the undesirable ones. There was a balance to which ones they kept and which they harvest.

Jamar wished he'd also had the previous books. Perhaps reading all the past years would give him a better idea of why his father kept some but not others. One day he would have to make those decisions and Jamar was wise enough to know he would need all the knowledge he could get to keep the company running as smoothly as it was now. Lemuel might defer to the lords, but he was a shrewd business man. Most of his father's success came from the fact that those in power thought they could use Lemuel and didn't realize he only let them think that so they would support him.

Unlike Lemuel, Jamar couldn't abide to have others think less of him. It was a flaw that Jamar didn't care to adjust in himself. He would not grovel and secretly maneuver people to do his wishes. It was beneath him. He had to be on top. He had to have people recognize him. What was the point of having power if no one knew he was the one who really had it? He was tired of boys like Edworth treating him like nothing and he wouldn't live the rest of his life in that shadow.

There was a soft knock on the door.
"I will start my lessons tomorrow," Jamar said. He knew it would be Carlyle. After their disagreement outside, Carlyle should have known that Jamar wouldn't be in the mood to learn. It wasn't like one more day would put Jamar behind schedule either, Carlyle always made certain Jamar was ahead in everything just in case he was called away.

The knob slowly turned and Carlyle appeared in the doorway. Jamar rolled his eyes and refused to look up from his book. It figured that Carlyle wouldn't talk through a door.

"We will start lessons when your father has dictated that we will start them. But for today all lessons are suspended. Your father requests your presence."

Jamar blinked. "What does he want?"

"You will see."

After placing the book on his desk, Jamar followed Carlyle downstairs. Instead of going to Lemuel's study, they exited the main house and entered the Machine building. The Machine building was three stories tall. It contained the Machine, several labs and the top floor was where the reaped Cars stayed until they were needed. Jamar had seen the floor plans for all the buildings in Cartiam III the last time he was there and Cartiam V seemed to follow the same design. He was please that he'd remembered the floor plans enough to find his own way without Carlyle.

The Machine room took up half of the first and second floors. It wasn't that the Machine was so big, but the generators it used required the ceiling space. There were several viewing rooms and a string of small exam rooms on the first floor. On the second floor there was a large office and conference room overlooking the Machine as well as living quarters for the guards.

Within the Cartiam walls there was a storage building that stored any items needed to run the facility. There was also a warehouse where the e-mems were processed, stored and shipped. The warehouse workers and main house staff lived on the second floor of the main house. Lemuel had his office and business meetings on the first, but had his private quarters on the fourth floor across the hall from Jamar. The third floor included guest rooms, storage rooms, cleaning closets and completely empty rooms. But the third floor was never used. It was as if there had to be a physical reminder for who was on top. And last of all there was the ward, where the Cars ate and slept. Those were the buildings that comprised the Cartiam. It was an efficient set-up.

There were only two reasons for why Lemuel would have Jamar see him in the harvest building. Either because he wanted Jamar to observe some aspect of the business or because Lemuel was too busy with business to see Jamar somewhere more private.

They passed through the doors of the main house and entered the Machine building's hall. The Machine room had several entrances on the left and they took the first one, a smaller single door entry, rather than the double door entry farther down. Carlyle walked across the room to the wooden staircase leading to the second floor control room that over looked the Machine with tinted glass. At first glance upon entering the control room, Jamar couldn't tell which reason Lemuel had called him there for. Lemuel leaned over a round table covered in papers like a table cloth. He was so engrossed that he didn't hear the soft click from Carlyle closing the door behind them and Carlyle would never interrupt. He knew his place well.

Together they stood near the door waiting for Lemuel to notice them.

"Jamar, come here," Lemuel said. He didn't look up and Jamar wondered as he walked over if he'd known they were there the whole time.

"What is all this?" Jamar asked looking over all the papers.

"Once every ten years we do something special to increase productivity. Have you been looking through the book I gave you?"

"Yes."

"What is the estimated profit we would make from 799137?"

Jamar glanced up at the ceiling and mentally flipped the pages of the binder. He'd seen that number before. Was it the girl on the first page, the one worth $110k? No, that would be too easy and if Jamar was right her number was 798137. He knew 799137 was a girl, one more toward the middle of the book and as he thought through the pictures he remembered why he knew that number. She was sixteen and even her doe-eyed, straight-faced picture couldn't hide the fact that she was pretty. He'd seen her in the yard too, talking to Silas that first day. Jamar threw all those useless tidbits out and focused on the information his father was asking for. He pictured the page and let his eyes scan down to where her estimated profit was.

"The estimated profit for 799137 is $165k."

"And where is that number compared to the average?"

Jamar tilted his head as he thought. "That is a little less than average."

"If you want to be general about it then that is correct. To be specific it is 2.7 points lower than the average. And the average is 15 points lower than our current demand."

"How do we fix that?"

"At our current rate of production we would have nothing left in fifteen years. We would have to harvest everyone. It wouldn't matter whether they are ready or not, whether their descendants would produce more. To keep up with our current demand we would take everyone. In fifteen years, all of them would be used up and if the lords think our energy crisis is bad now...." Lemuel looked up and gave Jamar a grim smile.

Jamar was a bit surprised. He didn't think the demand was that high or that they could run out so quickly.

"But we've had this problem before. The first year I started working my father introduced me to the ten year system our family created to stimulate a growth in production. Here," Lemuel pointed to a worn green leather journal. "I want you to read this. It's my grandfather's and it details how the system works. That is the old version and I've updated or modified some of the overall plots that I keep in my personal journal, but this is to give you the history of what we do."

"Why does it take ten years?" Jamar asked. He picked up the journal and flipped through the pages. The handwriting was in tiny block letters and it took him a second to realize that the '4' was really an 'A.'

"The system takes ten years because each year has a unique element to it that will make the young Cars feel more than they would if we just let them live their lives like other people. Cars will exhibit extreme emotion without any interference, but the system manipulates those emotions to make their emotions stronger and even more extreme and it does this for whole years of product rather than just a few individuals.

"This is why the system takes ten years. Young Cars arrive at the Cartiam when they are eight and the longest they stay would be until they are eighteen, although we make certain that they don't stay here that long if we intend to send them to the farm. During the whole time the Cars never experience the same cycle of events and so they cannot catch on to the system. If they talked much they could pass rumors along, but we've made them afraid of that. They remain mindlessly under our control.

"And once every ten years we have a grand finale that more than doubles our usual production. A girl like 799137 that would only produce $165k will produce $400k. That is, if we play it right."

Jamar smiled at his father's enthusiasm. "What's the grand finale?"

"I'll show you. The first thing we have to do is see where all the Cars are emotionally. So we test them with this." Lemuel pushed off of the table and walked over to a metal cart by the wall. It had a syringe and several vials of clear liquid on it. Lemuel took the syringe and drew out some liquid from a vial.

"What is it?" Jamar asked.

"This is a compound that overloads the emotional center of the brain with hallucinations. It jumps from one emotional theme to another and shows us where the Cars' weaknesses are. It also contains trackers that we instantly upload into the computer. This gives us the information we need to devise the best strategy for dealing with them individually and as a whole."

Lemuel set the syringe back down and pressed his thumb to the intercom on the wall.

"Start bringing them into the exam rooms."

A crackly voice that was still unmistakably Tymas answered, "Yes, sir."

"We will monitor things on the floor," Lemuel added. He started for the door and then paused with his hand held out to Jamar. "You will want to see this."

Chapter 16: Silas

Silas didn't remember when the pain stopped or who dragged him into his cell. He must have blacked out because the next thing he knew he was in his bed. His head buzzed, but everything else felt back to normal. Someone had also removed the broken collar. Silas reached up to touch his neck. His skin was tender.

He glanced around the room. The light shone brightly from the small barred window near the ceiling. It was a little after lunch and he was still in his cell. There was a tray with a piece of chicken, some mashed potatoes and a cup of water sitting on the floor near the door.

"You have no idea how hard it was to leave that," Patton said.

It didn't make sense that they would bring food just for him.

"When did they do that?"

"'Bout ten minutes ago. You were really out of it. I thought they'd drained you and run out of places to put you so they dumped you back here."

"When did you go to lunch?"

"Didn't. They brought my meal with yours."

Silas rolled out of his bunk and managed to land near enough to the tray to reach it and pull it close.

"You didn't go to the cafeteria?" Silas asked. He took a bite of the room temperature chicken and it tasted surprisingly good.

"Nope. They must have thought it would be better for everyone to stay separated. We didn't go in the yard either."

Silas finished the chicken and scooped the potatoes into his mouth. When he was done he slowly stood up and placed his tray under Patton's tray sitting in the empty cubby nearest the door. The cubby that anything left in it would disappear by the next day. Something Patton had learned the hard way when he put one of his new books there and never got to read it. Silas considered putting some of his stuffed animals in it, but even though he didn't care about them, they were all he was given and for that reason alone he kept them.

He was sure how he would feel when he first stood up, but as he straightened he felt much better than he had all day. The food must have helped. If he didn't think about it, he didn't even notice the slight buzzing in his head. There really wasn't much to do in their cell but rest and that was the one thing Silas felt like he needed the most. He slid back into his bunk and closed his eyes.

The next thing Silas knew he heard a door slam shut. Feet scuffled in the hall and another door, this one closer, was opened.

"Out," Westminster said. More feet shuffled and then they faded away down the hall.

"What's going on?" Silas asked.

Patton was sitting straight up in his bed, not leaning against the wall like he would if he were reading. "You've been asleep for hours. They're taking everyone out cell by cell, but I think they're also bringing them back."

The outside light had shifted making the room a bit darker, but not enough to need the light on. Silas rubbed the grit out of his eyes and stretched. He felt a bit stiff from his nap, but otherwise almost completely back to normal.

More feet echoed in the hall. Doors opened and closed. They were getting closer. Silas went through his list of what it could be. They were given a yearly medical exam, but they'd already done that for this year. This whole situation didn't bode well for him or Malina. How could they know the guards' schedule if there was no schedule? Things had been relatively normal until Jamar came. That was when it started to go wrong. That's when the food portions were messed with and when Freddie and Dan decided to take matters into their own hands and when their implants were set off. How quickly everything could change only served to remind Silas how little he could control. He was a fool to think that he could escape, that he could save Malina.

Yet, Silas couldn't help thinking they still might have a chance, even now though it might be slim. He didn't know how he could get them out, but Silas was determined not to give up. It didn't matter if he was a fool or not, because as long as he was alive he could plan and he might be able to figure something out.

Their door opened and Silas stared up at Westminster.

"Out," he said.

Silas stood up and Patton hopped down off his bed. Together they walked into the hall. Hugle, his face covered in purple bruises, was saying the same thing in the cell next to theirs and when the two boys joined Silas and Patton in the hall, all four were led toward the Machine.

They left the ward and entered the long hallway leading to the Machine. Instead of heading straight to the Machine room Hugle stopped them in front of several opened exam rooms. While Hugle watched them, Westminster took Patton into an exam room, had him sit in a chair and buckled straps around his chest, arms and feet. Westminster took the other two boys into rooms and did the same. Then he came for Silas.

Silas wanted to resist, but knew what would happen if he did. Guards would come and force him to sit in the hardened plastic chair bolted to the floor. And it wouldn't be pleasant. Instead Silas hoped that whatever they were going to do wouldn't hurt and would be over quickly. He tried to relax as Westminster strapped his wrists to the arm rest. His right wrist was bound facing up and his left facing down. Silas tried to move his right wrist around, but the strap was too tight. Next Westminster buckled Silas' legs and then he strapped Silas' chest so tight it kept him from taking a regular breath. Once he had checked the straps, Westminster left the room and shut the door.

The bright overhead light gave off a hum that filled the silence. Silas tried to shift in his seat to make the chest strap looser, but nothing he could do helped. Finally he tried to relax. Who knew how long they would make him wait.

The chair made Silas face a white wall with the door to his right and just as Silas was certain he had every bump and grain in the wall memorized, a light from inside the wall flicked on and a screen appeared. It was blended well into the rest of the wall and he tried to spot the boundaries now.

The symbol for the Cartiam, an upside-down y, appeared slowly revolved on a blue screen. A brass intro began and the picture changed to grainy images from history.

"Two hundred years ago the Radiation Age changed all life as it was known. Many of the events were so terrible that the leaders of that age dictated they should be stricken from memory." Scenes of destruction and a crying baby covered in dirt. "All that remained at the close of the Radiation Age were the people who survived and from them emerged four distinct classes: Tireans, Faans, Ajaks and Carillians." Four quick iconic images of the classes flashed on the scene. A Tirean family looking up, a Faan warrior glaring back at the camera, two old, worn Ajak men with shoulders sloped and a Carillian woman screaming, about to pull her hair out.

Silas glanced down at the straps and tried to twist his right arm around again. This was the same video they showed every few weeks in the cafeteria.

"Some classes were volatile and refused to be content with their lot."

They meant Carillians.

"They threatened to destroy the peace and they had no respect for the well-being of others. This class was so opposed to freedom that they had to be stopped. The other classes saw this as an opportunity to rise above the unevolved stage man had existed in and they were victorious." The voice droned in the background and Silas did his best to ignore it. All the film basically said was that Carillians weren't worth much. It justified why the Machine was the right solution and left Silas feeling weak and powerless. The slamming of a nearby door made him tense up.

The video changed to a woman in a suit who continued the speech. "It is only through Tirean compassion that this class was saved from complete annihilation, but since they refused to see reason, they have lost the spark that gave them individual personhood. As sub-persons they can only serve the interests of the other classes and must be content with their chosen lot."

The shot changed to a young man. "We all have our place in society and no one can take that from us. We can never question why--"

The door opened and Silas tuned out the rest of the video. In the doorway was a man with a thick head of dirty blonde hair that was slicked back to give him another inch and a half in height. He wore a white coat. He didn't look at Silas as he walked in, instead he examined the syringe in his hand, held it up to the light and tapped it once.

"What is it?" Silas asked.

The man didn't answer. He bent over Silas' right arm, tested the skin with the needle and then stuck it in slowly squeezing the plunger as he did. Silas tried not to jerk at the pinch in his arm.

"What is that?" he asked again. His heart beat faster, but he didn't know if it was because of the injection or that he didn't know what it would do to him.

His eyelids grew heavy and he felt more than saw the man leave. What did they do? He realized his eyes were closed and he jerked them open. But he didn't see the white wall in front of him. He was standing in the yard by himself. How did he do that?

"Hello?" he asked. His voice sounded hallow in a way that it had never seemed when there were others in the yard. The ground was dry and firm beneath his feet.

There was short cry. It came from one of the corners and Silas walked toward it. To his surprise there was a small brown kitten with matted fur. The kitten's front paws were on the wall and it tried to jump up the lowest stones. As Silas stepped closer, the kitten startled and its eyes the same color as its fur darted around.

"It's okay," Silas said softly. He'd never seen an animal so small or so close. Silas knelt down and stretched out his hand. The kitten looked at it and took a step closer. Stretching out its thin neck, the kitten sniffed at Silas' fingertip. Seeming to decide that Silas was safe the kitten rubbed his palm with the top of its head and then curled around Silas' legs.

Carefully, Silas placed one hand on the kitten's back and stroked its fur. The kitten began to purr and Silas kept petting it. The more Silas rubbed the fur, the more he realized the hairs were actually white underneath the dirt and grime. Whole chunks of dirt puffed in the air and crumbled to the ground. Soon the kitten was completely white. Its fur glinted in the sun and the kitten seemed quite pleased with itself and began to lick its' paws.

A wind picked up in the yard and blew around them. The kitten shuddered and seemed to hop in place, but instead of hopping up and coming down the kitten stayed at the highest point. Silas blinked and looked at the kitten again only now it was more the size of a small cat. The kitten kept growing. It didn't stop growing when it reached Silas' shin, or knees or mid-thigh. The back of the cat reached Silas' waist, until it was the size of a large white, panther whose purr rumbled deeply.

Silas reached out to pet the panther. Its fur was soft, like silk, but the muscles underneath were thick and taut. The panther looked over at him and their eyes met. It was as if he knew the panther in some profound way that words could not express and a deep cloud of sadness surrounded him. Silas half expected the panther to speak, but it didn't. The panther's skin flickered and Silas removed his hand. Without looking back, the panther bunched its legs underneath and launched itself to the top of the wall.

"Wait," Silas called after it. He wanted to go with the cat, but he was still stuck in the yard. Yet he felt certain that if he tried he could jump the wall.

Silas closed his eyes, gathered his feet under him and sprang into the air. He could feel the wind blowing and smelled the fresh scent of pine, but then the air stopped and when he opened his eyes all he saw was the white wall of the exam room. Even after he was taken back to his cell there was something haunting about the white panther that lingered.

Chapter 17: Jamar

"Interesting," Lemuel said. He leaned closer to the screen and Jamar peeked around him.

"What is?" Jamar asked. The screen was split into twelve boxes, each showing the dreams of a different Car. In two of the boxes couples were kissing and in three there was a bloody mass of bodies, some Cars others guards. Jamar wondered what Tymas would think about all the different ways Jamar had seen him die that day. One little boy in particular had been very creative with a fork.

Lemuel pointed to the box in the top right corner. A dark-haired boy a few years older than Jamar, was being crushed under a large rock and the more the teen struggled the deeper he sank. Just as it seemed he might succeed in moving the rock he stopped struggling, either too weak or too discouraged. The teen lay in the dirt and didn't move. Then the screen went dark.

Leaning over to the computer's microphone, Lemuel clicked the on button and said, "Bring me the one in Room 5 when he's done. I'll be in my office."

"Yes sir," one of the guards responded.

"What does his dream mean?" Jamar asked.

"Firstly, this is only an emotional stimulus. It's not a real dream like the kind you or I might have at night. This is an emotional experience that gives us an idea of the types of Car emotions that are running the strongest subconsciously. Our way of gauging whether the Cars will be receptive to the plan before it is implemented. Understand?"

Jamar nodded.

"There are two kinds of emotional dreams: literal and figurative. In a literal dream, the person experiences exactly what their subconscious is emotionally dealing with the most. If they are angry, they will have an object they can express that anger toward. If they are happy, they will have a symbol of what they love that makes them feel happiness. In a figurative dream, the person's mind still uses symbols, but those symbols are the emotion itself, not a release for the person to express the emotion. This particular boy is primed. He will be a perfect fit for Project High."

"What is Project High?"

"I think that will be better for you to figure out on your own."

"But why do we care where their emotions are?" Jamar asked. He was tired after standing in front of the screen for the past four hours and knew he should have the answer, but it was easier to ask again.

"Because it is important to know that we have emotions worth collecting. It wouldn't do to plan this elaborate, once every ten years production and then find out that the Cars we were harvesting didn't have the emotional strength capacity for the types of emotions we need."

"Oh." Jamar glanced down at the journal Lemuel had given him.

Several more screens go black and no one replaces them.

"Is that it?" Jamar asked.

His father glanced down at a list of names and nodded. He backed away from the desk and turned to Jamar.

"We are going in my office. You may observe, but you cannot interact."

"Yes sir," Jamar said with a nod.

Together they left the Machine room and entered the main house. The hall was quiet and once they were inside Lemuel's office, Jamar found a chair in the corner and sat. His father took the chair behind his desk and started reading papers.

The door opened and the dark-haired boy came in. He was much taller in person than Jamar would have thought, nearly six feet tall although he had a younger looking face. Not quite as tall as Tymas who was probably still a head taller, but still impressive for someone who was not yet eighteen.

The guard who brought him stood directly behind the teen and neither one said anything. Lemuel didn't either, he poured over his papers making small notes here and there. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Finally when Jamar had almost decided that he would be better off reading the journal in his lap than watching the teen stand still, Lemuel spoke.

"Name." The word was clear and firm and filled the room with a sense of Lemuel's power.

The boy ducked his head and said, "Marcus."

"Number."

Marcus didn't respond. His fingers curled in and he pursed his lips.

Lemuel didn't even look up, but he let out a small chuckle. "Is that really where you are going to draw the line?"

Marcus jerked his head, but kept his eyes on the floor.

"You walk into this room on your own feet and willingly offer your name, but your number is too much." Lemuel did glance up then, but Marcus stayed frozen. "I guess the tests were wrong. You are too weak to lead a revolt."

The vein in Marcus' neck quivered at that.

Lemuel went back to his papers. "Probably for the best. You would fail anyway and then you would walk yourself to the Machine and start it for me. Now, walk yourself out."

Marcus turned stiffly, his head bowed, and he let the guard lead him away.

"You may go too," Lemuel added to Jamar. "We will have some busy days coming up and you'll need your rest."

"Yes sir," Jamar said. Then he paused. "What did you do here? I thought he was too weak in his dream to lift the rock. Won't this make him give up?"

"You should be smart enough to figure this out on your own." There was finality behind Lemuel's intelligence barb that meant all conversation was now done and Jamar took the journal back up to his room.

It was already dark so he had his dinner brought up to him. He spent the rest of the evening paging through the journal. Many of the notes at the beginning were about the use of a controlling drug that Jamar knew they had replaced with an implant when his father was young. But near the middle his ancestor began to mention the ten year system. Each year was supposed to have a theme that would develop a concentration of specific emotions and also build on the past years emotions to create well-rounded individual who would produce a greater harvest.

During this ancestor's leadership they started a schooling program. The Carillians were given an education during their years at the farm and allowed to read once they were in the Cartiam. Knowledge gave the Cars hope and a deeper despair. The journal recorded a year when his ancestor let the Cars believe a plague was wiping them out, but apparently it was a lot to maintain for the guards. There was an experiment where different gangs were formed who would fight each other under the guards' supervision and the losers would be eliminated. One year several Cars proved to be difficult to harvest and were placed under physical distress until they cracked and begged for death. There was also a lighter year where the dorms were haunted and Cars would vanish in a puff of smoke while everyone was in the yard.

Jamar wondered what his father had in mind and what had been added to the ten year system since it was started. There were several pages missing from the middle of the journal and he wondered what was on them or where they were. But just thinking about it made him realize how tired he was and he put the journal away and went to sleep a bit earlier than he normally did.

His room was dark when Jamar awoke, but once he opened his curtains light flooded the darkness away. There was a breakfast tray on a cart next to his desk and it had a plastic bucket on the bottom shelf with a note attached. Jamar's name was carefully written in Carlyle's handwriting on a folded piece of paper, but he ignored the note until he was finished eating. The food was colder than Jamar preferred, but from the brightness of the sun he'd also slept later. When he'd eaten all he could stand, he pulled out the plastic bucket and lifted the note.

I will be in the city today. In lieu of your economics lesson, you will catalog the e-mems in this bucket. Include going rate, price and production quality and write a five page essay on what you have discovered. I will grade it when I return this afternoon.

It was signed Carlyle.

Good, he would have the whole morning to himself. Jamar called for a servant and gave them a note to Tymas requesting that he bring Silas to Jamar's room. Perhaps Jamar could get some sword fighting in too.

Jamar sat back at his desk, opened the lid on the bucket and pulled the highest e-mem out. It was already coated in a frosted yellow and was the size of a plum. Setting it aside, Jamar pulled out some of the others. Three frosted blue, one green that was five inches wide and two tiny red, although the frost made them look more pink than red. Taking his time, he rummaged through his desk looking for the e-mem product guide his father had given him. He also pulled out some paper and started writing. Reading and writing were not some of his strengths but Carlyle had spent years drumming them into Jamar through constant practice and he managed to have a page done by the time Silas' hesitant knock reached his ears.

"Come in," Jamar called over his shoulder and he finished writing another sentence while the door clicked open and footsteps entered the room.

When he spun around in his seat, he saw Silas waiting patiently in the center of the room. It made him want to laugh inside at how easy it was to control Cars. They just did everything they were told. They would walk meekly to their deaths if he told them to.

"You can help me," Jamar said. He pointed to the plastic bucket. "Grab some of those e-mems out and I'll catalog them."

Silas' eyes darted to the bucket and back to Jamar, a surprised arch in his eyebrows. It took a moment more than Jamar would have liked for Silas to get to the desk and when he did, he couldn't seem to get his hands away from his side.

Jamar slid the bucket closer to Silas. "Pull them out and tell me what color they are."

Silas reached into the bucket. "It's blue," he said. His voice was so soft Jamar wouldn't have heard it if there was any other noise on that floor.

Jamar scribbled a quick line. "Next one."

"Pink."

"There are no pinks. It's red. Next."

"Red."

"Next."

"Green."

"How big is it?"

"Why does that matter?"

Jamar glanced at the product book. "Because green is the color used for anything bigger than blue and the bigger the green is the less it is worth."

"It's the size of a grapefruit, I think."

Jamar looked it up and wrote the answer down.

"How much is it worth?" Silas asked.

"About 70 dollars, if this estimate is current."

"How much are the blue ones worth?"

"Closer to 300 and the yellow are 1100 and the red are anywhere from 15k-100k."

"Why are the red worth so much more?" Silas asked.

"Because we only get less than five of those, but we could get 15 yellow, 30 blue and 50 green. Next one."

"Green, the size of a baseball."

"Next."

"Two more yellow and that's it."

"Good." Jamar wrote a few more lines.

"Is it true that they are frosted because the memory replays itself on the glass?" Silas asked.

Jamar's pen halted. Silas held one of the reds in his palm as if it were a robin's egg that he wanted to put back in the nest.

"I don't know. I've never really seen them without the coating. Scratch some of it off and we'll see."

Silas shook his head and put the red e-mem back on the desk. "I can't."

"Afraid?" Jamar asked with a small laugh.

Conflicting emotions crossed Silas' face, but he stuck out his chin and said, "I'm not afraid. I just don't think we should see the image that someone cared the most about. It's private."

"That's stupid." Jamar snatched the e-mem up, took the knife from his breakfast tray and scratched the red paint. He could make out brown eyes, sadly looking back at him and then wrinkled cheeks and mostly white hair that had been cut too short if it was a woman. And it was. The picture continued to pan out revealing a woman's hunched back and a broom. The woman swept the front porch, pausing every now and then to look at out of the glass at the person watching her and memorizing every detail. A scene similar to those Jamar had observed in the Verandia. This e-mem must have belonged to the woman's husband.

"It's just an old woman. Look." Jamar stuck the e-mem under Silas' nose, but Silas wouldn't look down.

"I said I didn't want to see it."

"You don't know what you want," Jamar said.

"And you do?" Silas pushed the e-mem away and stared at Jamar.

"Of course."

"If you know what I want then tell me what it is."

"That would only work if you actually knew what you wanted in the first place."

"You're stalling." Silas crossed his arms.

"No, I'm not. There's no point in telling you what you want if you aren't smart enough to know it."

"So you think I'm unintelligent."

Jamar turned back to his desk and picked up his pen. This wasn't turning out quite the way he wanted. "It's not a bad thing. Most people are and your whole class is. You are all sheep and that is why we take care of you."

"Are you really saying that, or is this just the line Tireans tell you so that it seems okay for you to treat us differently?"

"I--it's not that simple." And yet for all he tried to think his way around it, Jamar couldn't think of another, more complicated reason. Tireans were superior. Jamar knew that. It was a scientific fact. Their brains moved more efficiently, they had better coordination they could logically decipher the answers to life. But then, here he was unable to give a Carillian an answer. How did this happen? How could an inferior boy have more courage and beat him in an intellectual debate? It wasn't possible--shouldn't be possible.

"We aren't sheep. We can think for ourselves and if we were given the chance we could take care of ourselves too."

"Is that what you want?" Jamar asked. He turned and looked Silas in the eye, but Silas' face was blank, completely closed off from Jamar's ability to read it.

"I should go." Silas opened the door, told the guard that they were done.

"Wait." Jamar jumped up and slipped the red e-mem into Silas' pants pocket. "In case you change your mind."

Silas just stared at him with his right arm extended where Jamar had pushed it when he reached for the pocket. Silas didn't say another word as the guard appeared in the door and motioned for Silas to come out. Then the hall was silent and he was alone again.

Jamar finished the rest of his essay, but his heart was no longer in it.

Chapter 18: Silas

The yard had never seemed so comforting before to Silas as he walked through the doors and stepped on the dirt path. He just wanted life to go back to the way it used to be. Somehow that life made so much more sense. The regular routine might have been dehumanizing, but at least Silas knew how to handle it. He didn't want to think about how it was used to control the Carillians, how they let it control them and didn't do anything about it. They were sheep. But they didn't have to be.

It had never bothered Silas before, being around the guards and knowing they thought he was worthless. And it still didn't really bother him now. He felt like it gave him an edge. They didn't expect him to be smart enough to tie his own shoes, so they would never expect him to plan an escape.

But it bothered him when Jamar thought he was dumb. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Jamar knew more about sword fighting or chess and had laughed when Silas didn't. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that Jamar actually saw him. Jamar didn't let his eyes glide over everyone, only looking for misbehavior. He'd looked Silas in the eye, asked him questions and listened to his answers. Over the last few days Silas had gotten to know Jamar in a way he had never known anyone from another class before. They had talked and played together and Jamar still thought Silas was worthless. It stung, like vinegar on a cut and smelled just as sour. For as much as Silas believed he had some value--and not just the kind of value the profit from his e-mems would make--he also feared it was a dream. Where would his value come from? Was he only worth what someone else could make from selling his soul, or did he gain value from someone or somewhere else?

If he took the Tirean view of his value, than Silas was worthless. The best he could do was let them do anything they wanted with him. He was at their mercy and should probably thank them for allowing him to exist in the first place. Tireans were better and deserved for everyone to serve them and Silas deserved his lot as well. He was in his rightful place if the Tireans were right. And the weight of that knowledge was almost too heavy to bear, like a large stone hung around his neck that would never allow him to look straight up at the sky. Yet that is what Silas wanted most: to gaze up at the sun in the clouds without a fear of being punished, to spend as much time doing it as he wanted and to do so with his shoulders straight and a smile on his face. But he couldn't do that today.

Silas sighed and walked toward an empty space of wall near Stephen and Marcus. The red e-mem in his pocket rubbed his leg with every step. He didn't want to touch it, but he'd have to take it out of his pocket one day. Stephen noticed him, but didn't say anything. Marcus wore a frown and gave Silas a glare that darkened as he approached them. When Silas leaned against the wall, both of them pushed off and went to the other side of the yard.

This day was not getting better. Silas knew they were mad at him for getting out of the daily running, for disappearing most of the day doing who knew what. It didn't seem to matter that Silas didn't have a choice or that his transplant had gone off with the rest of theirs. He was still a Carillian and his trips with Jamar would not change that. He'd explain what was happening and prove himself and then things could go back to normal. They would come around. At least he hoped they would.

Several of the younger boys glanced over at Silas and then quickly jerked away when Silas looked back. No one was playing and the balls were still in the box, but Silas didn't feel like getting one out. There would be no point if the others refused to play with him. Silas realized this was the first time he'd been in the yard in several days, but it felt different than before. The walls were lined with teens and there was a cluster of older teens in the camera blind corner Malina had shown him.

Malina was there too, but when she saw him enter the yard she had begun to inch her way to him. Silas waited not wanting to seem impatient, but wishing she would hurry up. It felt like they hadn't talked to each other in years. His plans for escape were dusty. He hadn't even thought about how they were going to get out since the last time they talked.

"How are you?" Silas asked moving his lips as little as possible.

Malina didn't say a word for a moment and then she sighed. "There's talk going around."

"I'm not a snitch. I don't care what anyone says. I don't tell them anything about us when I'm there," Silas said, spreading his fingers in such a way that they encompassed everyone in the yard, but also could be seen as a harmless flexing.

"I didn't say you were." Malina looked over at him and frowned. "Who said you were a snitch?"

"No one," Silas said. "What did you hear?"

"They're planning something."

"What? An escape?"

Malina shook her head slightly. "No, I don't think so. I haven't really heard anything specific, just that something big might be going on. They're calling it the Plan."

Silas glanced over at the older boys and a few older girls crowded in the corner. Stephen was there, so was Marcus who was doing most of the talking. He wasn't speaking loud enough that anyone outside of his immediate circle could hear him, but those in the circle would walk over to another group of kids waiting nearby passing on what he was saying to them.

"I talked to Cortez, the janitor, again yesterday," Malina said. She reached up and slid her fingers through her hair so that it made a smooth screen blocking her lips from those above.

Silas waited for her to continue.

"He said he would only take money or something that he could sell. I asked him about those collector dolls I get and he might take them if I had fifty more. I don't know what to do. I had to give him one doll already to keep him quiet."

"I doubt my stuffed animals are worth much," Silas said. He let his head fall back against the stone wall. The slight pain felt good. It gave him more to think about than how they owned very little of worth.

Malina sighed.

"What?"

"Maybe--maybe we should give up. If I cause a scene right now they might take me and then it would be over and I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore."

"Don't say that!" Silas dropped his head down so his words would not travel as far.

Malina looked over at him. Tears filled her eyes. "I need...."

He knew that look. He felt like he wore it inside every moment of every day. She needed hope and the escape was falling apart. He was failing her.

"You don't know how hard the last few days have been for me without you. I almost snapped two days ago and then this morning I got so mad at the girl they picked. She had such a big smile on her face and the way she looked at us older girls as if we weren't good enough, I wanted--"

"Easy," Silas touched her arm and her curled fists relaxed. It hurt him to know how much she struggled. He wished he could fix the situation, but he was trapped. How could he say no to the guards? They came for him and that was that. Even if they would listen, Silas knew his times with Jamar were important. He was learning so much about how the rest of the world worked. Through Jamar, his tutor, the way the guards stood and the few servants Silas had seen. It was a different world from inside the Cartiam and if they wanted to get out, they would have to know how to act. Yet being there meant he was gone when Malina needed him.

"I wish you could lock your emotions away. Maybe that would help," Silas said.

"My emotions are locked and it doesn't work that way," Malina said with a sigh.

"What? How did you do it?"

"It happens automatically when you experience an intense emotion."

"You have intense emotions all the time."

Malina let out a soft laugh. "Those are normal emotions for me. No, I mean intense. Really, really intense. Like you can't breathe and it's the only thing you can think about. That kind of intense."

Silas let his head rest against the wall. He wasn't sure he knew the difference.

"Sometimes it can happen without the person even knowing it did, but once it happens the source that emotion connected to is the key to unlocking everything." Malina looked up at the Ajax guard walking along the top of the wall and then over at the camera location.

Silas followed her gaze. His skin tingled. That must be one of the reasons they were watched all the time. If the guards knew who or what a Carillian's key was, then they could break the Carillian easily.

"What's your key?" Silas asked.

Malina's head whipped over and she arched her eyebrow at him. Silas murmured a quick sorry and let the matter drop. He shouldn't have asked. If something did happen to her it would be best if he didn't know.

Lisette, Malina's cell mate walked over to them, but instead of stopping she walked past.

"You have to hear him," she said with a slight tilt of her head at where Marcus was quietly, yet also animatedly, talking. "He's going to begin again soon."

The group of kids who had surrounded him were fading across the yard and others were taking their place. Malina pushed off the wall and took a long arc over to where Marcus was. Silas waited a few seconds and then made his way to the same spot going in the other direction. He had to know what Marcus was talking about for himself.

He didn't stand near Malina, instead he crouched down and picked up a handful of dirt and little pebble. Malina was somewhere behind him standing next to another girl as if they were hanging out although Silas didn't think they ever had.

"We need to have courage," Marcus whispered passion leaping from his mouth. "Too long have we stood in line, took our food and watched our families and friends be taken away. We are weak and they expect us to always be weak. But I believe we can be strong."

It was like a trumpet instantly called all the hairs on Silas' back to attention. This was what he felt too.

"How many times have we all seen the guards lead someone away, someone who makes the lights flicker and then is never seen again? We hate it, but we don't do anything, because it's easier to watch than it is to stop it. When they tell us to run, we run. When they tell us to get in our cells, we do. When they tell us it's time to go, we go hoping the whole time we aren't going to the Machine. But what we're really doing is agreeing with them. When we obey, we agree that their treatment is good and correct. And it is not. We make their lives easier while they destroy us."

Silas' jaw was clenched and he realized he was squeezing the dirt in his hand. He softened his grip and let a few pebbles go.

"We need the courage to do what is right whether through inaction or action. It is wrong to let the guards take us without a fight, to sit on the Machine when they tell us to sit. We might not be able to stop bad things from happening, but by our actions we are either passively approving or passively rejecting the ideals of our captors. When one person is taken away, if we watch and do nothing, we are approving what will happen to them. No more sitting idly by. We need to take control and take responsibility for our actions. We have been sheep long enough. Now we will be wolves.

"We have a plan to show our captors who they have really been guarding. We will rise up and take action. If you have had enough of the fear and uncertainty and are ready to stand against injustice don't do anything yet. We will lull the beast with sleep and strike when they are least expecting. But if we can count on you, cross your right leg over your left and someone will give you instructions."

Silas glanced up. He stood stiffly and let the rest of the dirt fall to the ground. All over the yard he noticed were right legs crossed over left. Stephen and Patton both had crossed their right legs, Stephen with a defiant tilt in his chin. They weren't the only ones. Somehow Marcus' word had sparked something in Sebastian as well. Both Sebastian and his friends crossed their legs and their arms. Even Malina was doing it. Silas wanted to also. He was tired of letting others rule his life. He wanted to fight. But he had to know more. What was the plan? And most importantly of all, would it interfere or help with his escape?

Chapter 19: Silas

"I heard what the plan is," Patton said. He turned on the water in the sink and washed his hands.

"What is it?" Silas sat at the edge of his bunk. They'd been back in their cell for an hour.

"Like I would tell you," Patton said with a scoff.

"Then why did you tell me you knew what it was?" Silas muttered.

"It's about time we did something, you know?" Patton wiped his hands on his blanket. "We let them treat us like this. We have to fight back."

"Is that why you stood outside our cell door and waited for them to push you in?" Silas asked. Patton wasn't the only one who did that. Several other boys refused to walk into their cells too.

"You should join us. It would put all the rumors of you working for the owner to rest."

"It's not going to work. You saw what happened in the cafeteria. All they need to do is set our implants off and everything will go back to the way it was."

Patton smiled and leaped up into his bunk.

"What?" Silas asked. There was something secretive behind that smile.

Patton let out a short laugh.

"Patton." Silas let his tone imply that he was not in the mood to play games, which only made Patton laugh louder. "Fine," Silas said and he lay back in bed determined not to give Patton any more attention.

It worked. Patton rolled over to the edge and hung his head down so he could see Silas.

"We have a potion that will turn the implant off."

"A potion? How do they make it and how does it work?"

"I didn't ask for the recipe. But the way it was explained to me is that this potion sends a series of electrical currents through the body that interfere with the implant's signal and shuts it off. Fun, huh?"

Silas nodded. It sounded pretty air tight. But would it work?

"As soon as they whip it up we're going to riot, kill the guards and destroy the Machine. And anyone who helps us is going to get a share of the plunder. You should think about it."

"I will," Silas said, but inside he didn't know what to think.

"Better make up your mind fast 'cause we're doing it tomorrow." Patton settled back on his bunk, leaving Silas alone.

Tomorrow was way too soon. There was no way Silas could hope to escape with Malina that night and who knows what would change after something as big as a riot jarred the guards from their current complacency. Silas was torn. Part of him wanted to hope that a full scale riot could succeed, just as part of him wanted to hope that an escape plan could work. Any plan was better than sitting around waiting for your name to be called or to get taken away.

Yet some plans were safer than others. A riot would be big and messy. There was no guarantee that anyone would come out alive. The success of the riot depended on the potion working, a potion Silas had never heard of and could not be certain would work. If the potion did work, then the riots success depended on the Carillians subduing all the guards. But they would have to get all of them, including the girls' guards, not just two or three. Even without his weapons Tymas would be difficult to contain.

This was also a new situation. Silas didn't know what other tricks the guards might have up their sleeves. Just because no one had rioted in the last five years Silas had been there didn't mean that the guards were not prepared for the possibility.

And if the riot didn't succeed.... An image of Malina being dragged down the hallway to the Machine filled his mind. Silas doubted anyone involved would be allowed to go to the farms. That kind of rebellion would not be permitted to spread. Even those who were not involved might not survive by association. Rumors could not inspire future generations to do the same. Hope was too dangerous and there would always be someone who thought he could break the odds.

Silas knew this too well. He thought he could escape. He was a fool to think that there weren't others to think and feel the same. None of them had succeeded, at least not that Silas had ever heard. Why did he believe that he could triumph where others failed? It wasn't that he thought so highly of his own abilities to make the escape work. It was more that the escape had to work for Malina. He was desperate. He couldn't fail her, even if the bottom of his heart was certain he would.

Silas stopped himself. He could not let himself think like that. Slowly he rolled over and felt something hard in his pocket. The e-mem Jamar had given him. How had he forgotten about it? Any despair Silas had felt a moment before fled. If Cortez would accept an e-mem as payment instead of cash or Malina's dolls, perhaps they could arrange something for tonight. It could work and he could get Malina out of the Cartiam before the riot ruined everything. She would be safe.

Suddenly Silas couldn't wait for dinner. He had to talk to Malina, give her the e-mem and get things going. They had to get out tonight. It was their best option. The only way Silas could know for sure that they would not be trapped if the riot failed.

The cell door opened and Silas jumped. He hadn't heard the guards come down the hall.

"If you say anything," Patton hissed.

Hugle appeared in the doorway, his hair combed for once and parted down the center. He pointed his baton at Silas and jerked it toward the door. Silas got up and pursed his lips at Patton. He wasn't going to say anything. It's not like Jamar had ever shown interest in what the other Carillians did during the day.

Silas walked next to Hugle down the hallway to the main house. The hallway didn't seem as long as it used to. Not like the hallway to the Machine did. They entered the first floor and Silas turned to go up the stairs.

"Not that way," Hugle said. His voice was higher pitched than Silas had thought it would be. He guessed it was because he expected all the guards to have Tymas' deep bass or Westminster's graveled tones. Silas hoped that if they were going outside Hugle would remember to put the collar on. He didn't want another repeat of the last time.

But before they could get to the end of the hall where the outside doors were, Hugle stopped and knocked on a large walnut door.

"Come in," a man's voice said from inside the room. Hugle turned the knob softly and opened the door.

Once Silas stepped inside and the door closed behind him leaving him alone with a man behind a desk. He wasn't sure why Lemuel would want to see him. There was no way he wasn't going to say anything about the riot. He was not a snitch. The man didn't look up, but Silas still recognized him as the owner from the large portraits that hung from the hall. Lemuel Pelacroix was the name etched in bronze under the portraits. There was a strong family resemblance to Jamar. They had the same cheek bones and similar nose, although the owner's was much bigger.

The owner didn't acknowledge him and continued to write on some papers. Silas just watched him. Even though he wondered why he was there, he almost preferred not knowing. There was a clock on the wall behind the desk and Silas watched the second hand tick around. He could feel each second click on his skin like a constant drop of water.

Lemuel cleared his throat. "I heard you have been spending time with my son."

Silas said nothing, although he nodded his head once.

"Tell me about it."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Have you ever touched a sword before?" The owner looked up and his eyes seemed to pierce into Silas' mind as if wishing he could find a lie.

"No."

"Jamar is quite the swordsman. He's more dedicated than I was at his age."

Silas pressed his lips together.

Carefully Lemuel placed his pen down. "He's also quite brave, isn't he? Your new hero I'm sure. The way he stood up to that bear must have been inspiring."

Silas blinked. Jamar had cowered before the bear. And in a flash, Silas realized that must not have been the story Lemuel heard. He glanced up to see the owner staring at him, his eyes narrowed.

"Jamar _was_ the one who scared away the bear, wasn't he?" Lemuel asked.

Silas nodded and held the owners eyes, but he could tell the owner was not convinced. He leaned over to a box, pressed a button and said, "Tell my son to come to my office, now." Lemuel's tone was dark and no-nonsense, it made Silas feel certain that he had told the owner more than he should have and he wondered if it was going to ruin everything.

Chapter 20: Jamar

Jamar had figured Project High out. He was so proud of himself as he closed his ancestor's journal and placed it back on the desk. It had only taken a reread of the journal and a scanning of the week's video logs until it became clear. Lemuel was inciting the Cars to riot. It was brilliant.

According to the journal, a controlled riot could be started with the following three elements: the rise of a leader who wanted to fight something he could not control, a situation that would raise fear and anger and a pervading sense of hopelessness. The last one had made the least sense to Jamar, but his ancestor had said that those who felt as though nearly all hope was lost would be desperate enough to accept any scrap of hope given to them. It almost didn't matter who the leader was, anything the leader said would inspire the masses to follow and give them an emotion that would be worth collecting.

The meeting with the teen was the clue that helped everything to fall into place. Lemuel was giving the Car the push he needed to fight back. Jamar had seen the feeds from the yard the next few days. At first the Car didn't do anything, but his emotions were flying all over his face and when he started talking it was like a wildfire was sparked in a field of dry hay. The other teens and kids ate it up. They needed a reason to hope. And their emotions were all running high, especially after their food portions were reduced and the two Cars who were well liked were taken.

Once he knew what to look for, Jamar wanted to laugh. It was so simple and so obvious he was surprised that he didn't notice it sooner. Even the guards knew, although they might have been around for the last riot and they played their oblivious parts well. He couldn't wait to tell his father.

There was a knock on the door.

"What is it?" Jamar asked from his desk.

"Your father wants you to come down to his office right away," Foxworth said.

"Excellent." Jamar smiled. He ran down the stairs and walked through his father's office door without knocking. There was another Car in the room and Jamar wasn't sure what to think when he realized Silas was the Car. He'd walked right past Silas to approach his father's desk and didn't even notice who it was, but his father had an extremely watchful gaze in his eyes that drew Jamar's attention to the Carillian. His first thought was that his father was going to do something similar to what he'd done with the last Car, but this felt different.

"I figured it out, Father," Jamar said. He wasn't going to tell what it was, especially not with a Carillian in the room, even if it was Silas. But he couldn't keep the news inside. He had to let Lemuel know. Yet instead of a smile or acknowledgement, Lemuel didn't even seem to hear him.

"Tell me," Lemuel said, his eyes never straying from Silas although Jamar knew his father was talking to him. "What really happened with the bear?"

Jamar frowned. Silas was as still as a statue and Jamar couldn't tell if this was because he was uncomfortable being in the owner's office or because he felt guilt.

"Nothing," Jamar said. "We crossed paths with the bear and I scared it off. That's all."

He expected Silas to interject and decided that when Silas did, his best bet was to accuse the Carillian of being a lying scum and wouldn't know the truth if it chewed his arm off. Lemuel turned his attention to Jamar and Jamar stared back. Silence lengthened.

Lemuel cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. "That's not what he said."

"It's the truth." Jamar's pre-planned speech tasted bitter in his mouth. He should have known better than to trust a Car to cover for him. He'd thought Silas would be different, better somehow. Yet he was just like every other Car out there and it hurt more than Jamar thought.

"And I didn't say it wasn't," Silas said. His voice held a challenge that Jamar would have never used with his father and Lemuel's expression darkened.

"I could see the answer written on your face," Lemuel said his voice dangerously deep. He kept his eyes on Jamar. "And I can see it in yours too."

"I didn't--" Jamar began.

"What? You didn't tell me the truth? Lie? Think?" Lemuel shook his head. "Your very expression implies guilt."

Jamar looked down at the carpet trying to relax his forehead.

"There are a few, certain relationships that require a foundation of trust and the father-son relationship is one. You can lie to your teacher, lie to your friends, you can even lie to your mother, but you should never, ever lie to me. Not even about something as juvenile as scaring a bear. You have broken my trust completely, possibly forever."

The words felt like a bucket of ice water dashed in his face. Jamar could not remember a time when his father had been this mad at him and when he used his deep voice it meant he was very serious. For a few days it had seemed like Jamar was finally becoming a part of his father's life, more than just the little kid he had to have following him around, but now that whole dream was ashes. Not just ashes, his father was banishing the dream, possibly forever. He couldn't live like that.

A twist of rebellion sparked in him. His father was asking too much. He'd only lied because Lemuel seemed so proud of him. It was a moment when Jamar didn't feel like a disappointment or failure and now his father was taking that away and taking away the hope of ever feeling it again. It wasn't fair. His father wanted him to be perfect and he never would be. So what was the point of even trying? Despair and rage flowed into him. He'd make his father regret pushing him away.

"Now get out."

Jamar stared at his father for a moment. He'd get out all right. Spinning on his heels, Jamar turned and stomped out of the room.

"You too," Lemuel said to Silas before Jamar had a chance to close the door.

Jamar waited a moment and let Silas close the door behind them. He noticed that his hands were shaking and he jammed them in his pockets. He couldn't let Silas know how angry and embarrassed he was. They both stood in the hall not saying a word and Jamar was grateful he didn't have to say anything. In that moment Silas was the only person in the world he liked, he was the only person who had never pushed him away or treated him unfairly. They had come far in just a few days. They'd faced a bear together, they'd played together, they'd learned together and they'd survived a meeting with Lemuel together. It was as if they were brothers, bound by common experiences and struggles.

Silas let out a frustrated sigh and Jamar knew he felt their connection too. It made him feel warm inside and lessened his father's sting. He had to show Silas how much it meant to have a friend. Jamar took a few steps away from his father's door and waited for Silas to join him.

"I have to warn you," Jamar said. This would be one way to get back at Lemuel.

"About what?" Silas asked. He walked closer and had lowered his voice.

"My father has arranged for you Carillians to riot and then he's going to harvest everyone."

Silas grew a shade lighter and his voice squeaked. "What?"

"Do you know about it?" His father would have been proud of the way he picked up on Silas' expression.

"How did he arrange it?"

It did not answer Jamar's question, but he didn't really care. It made sense that Silas would feel a small attachment to his class and not want to betray them so Jamar picked his next words carefully. "It doesn't matter. If they are planning to riot, my father is ready for it. He has this journal with all sorts of ways to make you Carillians feel stronger and make better e-mems. His plan is to get the teens to riot. He might even let them think they're winning, but that's only because the bigger the hope is, the more devastated everyone will be when they fail. And they will fail."

Silas' mouth was frozen in disbelief and horror.

"How do you know?" Silas asked.

"He had me sit in on his meeting with a Car teen, Marco or something."

"Marcus?"

"Yeah, and then he pretty much told me what he was doing."

"Is Marcus in on it?" Silas asked. He faced Jamar as if ready for the truth.

Jamar shook his head. "No, he's a weak-minded fool who doesn't know when he's being played."

Silas nodded.

"So you can stop this?" Jamar asked. There was no point in telling someone if it would not have the desired result of hurting Lemuel.

Silas only shrugged. "I can try."

"If you don't, you know what will happen." Jamar walked over to the nearest communications box. A guard would need to take Silas back to the ward. He placed his finger on the button.

"Wait." Silas' brow wrinkled and his eyes looked torn.

"What?"

"I have a sister."

Jamar waited.

Silas took a deep breath and plunged on. "Her name is Malina and she's sixteen. The riot could happen tomorrow. I may not have time to get them to change their minds, everyone is so... angry. If I can't stop it, can you keep her safe? Send her to the farms?"

It struck Jamar that Silas was begging for his sister's life. A Car wanted a Tirean to do something for him, give him special treatment. Jamar didn't like where his mind was going and shook his thoughts free. No, it wasn't a Carillian begging for a life. It was a friend asking his friend for a favor and not just any old favor, but one that really mattered. Silas wanted Jamar to protect what he cared about most. He trusted Jamar to help him and Jamar was not going to let him down.

He looked Silas in the eye. "I promise you that your sister will be safe. I will keep her from harm and make sure she survives."

Silas eyes closed in relief. "Thank you."

That one sentence kept Jamar wrapped in sunshine all day.

Chapter 21: Silas

Silas kept touching the small lump in his pocket. Each time he wanted to take it out and hold it in his hand. He didn't want to risk a hole in his pocket ruining everything. By the time he heard voices and footsteps in the hall he could have worn a path in the floor.

The air was tense in the hall and in the cafeteria it only got worse. Malina was one of the last girls in line and Silas watched her take her food to a table and sit down. He wished the line would move faster. The portions were a tablespoon of baked beans and one fourth of a grilled cheese sandwich. He had to talk to Malina. They needed to escape tonight. Even though Jamar promised he would take care of her, Silas wasn't sure he could trust him to keep his word. It was his responsibility to save her.

Once he had his food, Silas walked past Malina's table and bent over to tie his shoe. He placed his tray on the floor and slipped his hand into his pocket.

"We need to go tonight," he whispered. He tied his shoelace, slowly tightening it.

"That's too soon," Malina said. She crossed her arms and rested her head on the table so Silas could see her mouth.

Silas pulled the red e-mem out and hid it in his hand.

"The owner knows about the riot tomorrow. We have to get out tonight. Use this." Silas had his hand holding the e-mem push himself up and felt her fingers wrap around the small ball before he let it go. As he walked away, he could feel Malina's eyes follow him.

It was a good thing he didn't have much food because Silas was almost too nervous to eat what was there. He speared his beans with his fork and ate them one at a time. The thought of escape still seemed too foreign to be true, yet he liked thinking that this could be his last meal in the cafeteria. It was better than thinking that this was the last meal he would have in his right mind.

After dinner Silas tried to rest in his bed, but every creak set his mind on fire. He went through his list of things to bring and there wasn't much he wanted to keep. There were still several slices of bread and an orange in between his mattress. Who knew how long they would last, but at least it was something. He planned to strip the blanket off his bed, but he had no extra clothes, those were only available in the shower area, and he didn't plan to take any of the stuffed animals. If Patton woke up he wasn't sure what he would say. But he decided that there were two circumstances that they would take him: if Patton wanted to go or if Silas thought he'd tell on them the moment they were out of sight. They might leave Patton in the woods to fend for himself once they were safe and he couldn't ruin the plan.

The minutes ticked by. Patton's heavy breathing counted down the seconds. The cell darkened and then slowly began to turn lighter. Still there was no knock and the door did not open.

The door slid open with a clang and Silas nearly hit his head on the low bunk. His eyes crackled with sand and his head spun like it was filled with bees.

"Let's go," Westminster said. He banged on the wall.

Silas stumbled out of bed and lined up with the rest of the guys. But instead of lining up facing the cafeteria, everyone was lined up facing the yard. It probably meant no breakfast today. The owner wanted them to stay weak from hunger and make them angry at the same time.

The yard doors opened and everyone stumbled out. Silas immediately realized how out of practice he was. He legs knew the right motions, but all his muscles were stiff and didn't stretch and pull like they normally did. By his fourth circle of the yard it took all of Silas' willpower to keep the pace and when their run was over Silas breathed harder than he had in a long time. His heart raced as if it would burst through his chest. Whether it was being out of shape or knowing a riot was coming, he wasn't sure.

Once he could breathe through his nose without coughing, he made his way over to Malina.

"I couldn't do it," she said as he passed.

"He wasn't there?"

"No, I need to be here for the plan. Either we all escape or no one does."

Silas' heart dropped. "But the owner knows the plan. He's going to stop it."

Malina shook her head. "I don't care. He can't stop all of us."

"Mal--"

"I don't care!" Malina hissed. The words fell hot on his face. Her voice was much louder than it should be and Silas knew if he pressed her she would explode. She would not be open to listening either.

He kept walking. Stephen and Marcus were leaning nearby and Silas stopped near them. They didn't move, but they didn't seem very welcoming either.

"Are you in?" Stephen asked. He looked straight across at the other side of the wall, but Silas knew he was talking to him.

"Call it off. The owner knows about the riot. He plans to make everyone's emotions peak so he can take us to the Machine." He casually looked in their direction and saw Marcus glance at Stephen.

All Stephen did was shrug. "How do you know what the owner knows? Did you tell him?"

Silas didn't answer. Stephen made it sound as though Silas and Lemuel were on speaking terms. There was nothing he could say to prove that he wasn't and he didn't think they would believe him if he tried.

"You really believe the owner doesn't know what happens here? Think about it...and be careful," Silas said. He pushed off the wall and turned to go.

"Just stay out of our way. I'm sure _you_ won't get hurt," Marcus said, his upper lip slightly curled.

Silas found an empty corner of the stone wall and sank to the dirt. A few stands of grass poked up along the wall. They practically hugged the wall for comfort from the feet that pounded next to them every day. Silas wanted to rip them out, but they were so fragile he couldn't. Instead he threw some of the pebbles at the wall and watched as the small rocks arced next to it, sometimes wildly glancing off of the wall that jutted out. He had never felt so useless in his life.

He could see the teens circled in one of the camera's blind spots. Every few minutes a teen would enter the circle, disappear and then come out. Although Silas only saw one girl touch the back of her neck, he could tell all the teens that entered the circle felt like their necks were different. They would carry their head as if it was an egg balanced on a spoon and could fall off.

They didn't know what Silas knew. He wondered how many of them would rethink their direction if they did. In that moment it became important for Silas to warn them. They would never have a chance to make a choice if they didn't know they had options.

Silas stumbled to his feet, his muscles tired and tight. He walked as fast as he could, straight toward the teen circle. But before he was halfway across the yard they began to disperse. Marcus was one of them, perhaps to call it off. Silas changed direction. A girl Silas' age bumped into him and Silas lost sight of Marcus. He tried to walk faster, but more kids were in his way.

A piercing shout filled the air and was joined by a hundred others. Someone stepped on his foot as a rush of bodies jolted past Silas storming the walls. One guy almost ran into Silas, but pushed off his at the last moment. It took a moment for Silas to realize the guy was Sebastian. He pumped his fist in the air, screaming at the top of his lungs as he raced for the wall. It only took a minute before Silas and a handful of others were the only ones left in the center of the yard. The rest of the teens had formed human ladders and pyramids that the older teens used to mount the wall.

Rickman saw them coming and jammed his finger on a button before Marcus and two others threw him into the yard. The guard landed in a clump in the dirt and pressed the button again before he was surrounded by kids kicking and punching him. If the button Rickman pressed was the controller, it didn't have the desired effect on anyone. Hugle dashed into the guard tower where Lloyd was waiting and they barred the door shut.

The boys on the wall, led by Marcus, crashed into it and although the door stayed shut something must have given because there was a shout of triumph. They crashed into the door again and again with greater intensity. A smaller group was doing the same with the doors on the ground level into the wards.

Silas quickly scanned the faces at the wall for Malina, but he couldn't spot her. There were some girls on the wall and Silas searched for his sister among them. She was not the kind of person who would sit back and let others do the hard work. There was a group of girls and a few boys waiting in the middle of the wall path. One of the boys was Stephen. Stephen was pointing at the trees Silas knew were on the other side of the wall, along with their freedom. There seemed to be some kind of discussion and then Stephen broke away from the group and launched himself over the other side of the wall. Yet he didn't even have a chance to disappear before there was a loud crackle of light and Stephen's limp body flew back over the wall and crumpled in the yard. None of the other teens tried to escape.

There was another cheer and the guard tower door cracked. At the teens' next push the door fell off its hinge. The kids in the yard cheered as Hugle and Lloyd were dragged out of the guard tower. Silas felt unsettled. This seemed too easy and aside from access to the guards, the teens had gained nothing.

"What should we do with them?" Marcus shouted.

The teens shouted and cheered so loudly that Silas couldn't hear anything else. Marcus paraded in front of Hugle and held a weapon he'd found in the guard tower to Hugle's head. The teens screamed all the louder.

Suddenly someone smacked right into Silas knocking him to the ground. His head hit the packed earth and his vision clouded. He blinked and when the blur cleared he saw Tymas and Westminster standing in the door to the boys ward. He opened his mouth to warn Malina, but the air was crowded with cries. Westminster was tossing three gray cylinders into the yard. Bright yellow smoke poured from the cylinders. Kids ran to the opposite side of the yard and the smoke followed them.

Silas scrambled to his feet, but was knocked down again. The smoke curled around him and choked his nose with a smell of coconuts and moldy cheese. His eyes clouded over, yet not with blackness. A sulfur veil covered his sight, stinging his eyes and making his heart beat faster. He wanted to run, but all his muscles were paralyzed. Above everything the one thing he wanted to do was stay awake. There was something in the veil that scared him more than anything else. He had to help Malina. He had to escape. Instead the veil curled around him and Silas was dragged into oblivion.

Chapter 22: Jamar

The week after the riot was filled with oppressive silence, a disappointing silence for Jamar. He didn't really blame Silas. Cars were a volcano that Lemuel poked with a stick and there was no way to hold back the tide. Their roars in the yard would have set a panic in Jamar's heart if it wasn't for the fact that he knew Lemuel would have a plan for any contingency. Jamar had watched them scale the 20 foot walls like they were nothing and break down a double reinforced, hardened plastic door in less than two minutes. Even though Jamar had heard of how terrible it was to see the Carillians in battle, it was only now that he began to realize his ancestors weren't exaggerating.

When the guards were clearing the yard Jamar saw one of them bend over to pick Silas up. Before the guard could get a wheeled stretcher under Silas, someone distracted him and Silas collapsed face first into the dirt. Like all the Cars, Silas was still drugged and lay where he fell, not even moving an inch so he could breathe better. The guard didn't notice or care and it grated against Jamar like a rubber cloth pulled against his arm hair. Rolling Silas onto the stretcher, the guard pushed him back into the boys ward. That was the last glimpse Jamar had of Silas.

He had seen the list of Cars to be harvested and Silas' number wasn't on it, so Jamar wasn't concerned with the Machine running non-stop. He'd also checked for Silas' sister and her number was at the bottom of the list. There was time to figure out how to keep her at the bottom. Still he had a hard time concentrating on his work when the lights would brighten and dim every few minutes. It made him wonder what Silas was doing and if he was okay after being dropped. As far as the other Cars were concerned, they deserved to be drained if they were so easy to manipulate.

Jamar spent his hours catching up on homework and listening to Carlyle drone on about this or that time in history. He refused to take his meals in the main dining hall for fear that he would see Lemuel. At the same time he secretly wished his father would send for him, yet day after long, boring day ended, seemingly without Lemuel even thinking about him. Jamar tried to console himself with the fact that Lemuel was busy with the harvest, but he knew that his father hadn't called him to observe simply to punish him.

It left Jamar with no one to talk to and nothing special to look forward to. He realized he missed spending time with Silas. Carlyle was distant. Busy thinking about something else whenever he was with Jamar, which made Carlyle even worse to train with. Once Jamar even switched to holding his sword with his left hand and he still beat Carlyle. Worse was that Carlyle didn't even notice he'd changed hands.

Jamar was tired of the quiet. He was tired of being ignored by Lemuel. So he left his room and took the back stairs that came out closer to the Machine room. The hum of electricity left a charge in the air that tickled the hairs on Jamar's neck. The door to the building with the Machine was heavy and silent. The bright halogen lights made the white walls and shiny tiled floor seem sterile.

As much as Jamar wanted to see what Lemuel was doing in the Machine room, he didn't feel up to a confrontation at the moment. Instead he walked down the hall to the boys ward. Aside from the Machine there was no other noise. Jamar noticed an open observation room and saw two guards passed out on couches with empty beer cans, liquor bottles and pizza boxes littering the floor. This must have been as close to a vacation as they would get while at work and they were clearly taking advantage of it.

Jamar pulled open the door to the boys ward and walked down the hall. It was the first time he'd been in the Car living area before. The hallway was an old, faded brown, even the wooden doors were so weathered they appeared gray. There were glass windows in each door that allowed him to see the occupants of the cell. All the cells had a bunk bed and most of the beds had a sleeping boy lying on them. Some beds were empty and it looked as though more were empty than there used to be. Jamar didn't recognize them, but most Cars looked alike so it would be hard to tell. He walked to the end of the hall without seeing Silas, although there were three boys whose faces he couldn't see and two who looked similar to Silas', but not enough for Jamar to be sure it was him.

He walked back to the closest cell that might have Silas in it and tried the door. The bolt was heavy, but Jamar pulled on it anyway and almost felt it budge.

"Master Pelacroix," a man said from the far end of the hall. Jamar turned to see Foxworth.

Jamar lifted his chin and asked, "What?" He had every right to be here.

"Your father wants to see you," Foxworth said. His tone gave nothing away. Not whether his father wanted to see him because it had been a while, or if he wanted to see him because Jamar was in trouble, or if he just wanted to see him for no reason at all. Jamar followed Foxworth out of the boys ward and into the Machine room.

Lemuel looked up when the door closed and his eyes met Jamar, but Jamar couldn't see anything in them that would indicate why his father had called for him.

"Bring the next one." Lemuel said to Foxworth. Then he turned to Jamar. "Come with me." The wooden stairs to the control room creaked and flexed under his feet. Once they were inside Lemuel closed the door and switched off the control panel.

"Have you had enough time to think about what you did?" Lemuel asked.

Jamar glared back at him. Whatever his father wanted from him, Jamar was not going to give it to him. He'd been abandoned and crushed by his father. Silas was his only concern now.

For a moment Lemuel didn't say anything. If he was waiting for Jamar to speak he would wait until the sun died. Lemuel let out a gruff sigh. "I realize I may have been too tough on you. I never spent much time with my father, but my mother was around more than I have been for you these past few months."

Jamar frowned. This was not what he expected.

"I am willing to give you another chance to prove yourself. Do this and you will be all I ever wanted in a son."

"What do you want me to do?" the words slipped out, quiet and tense. Jamar hated how eager he felt to have his father's approval. He still needed to make his father pay.

The door to the Machine room opened and closed as another Carillian was brought in.

"I want you to take the lead on harvesting this one."

Instantly suspicion filled Jamar like a gas. "Really?"

Lemuel nodded his head once. It was an honor to harvest a Car and it meant that Jamar was taking another big step toward adulthood and the responsibility of the company. The only reason Jamar could think that Lemuel would offer such a prize was that it was a trick. His father played mind games with everyone and Jamar knew he wouldn't be an exception, but could he play his father's game and still come out on top?

With his heart pounding, he glanced down for a closer look at this Car. A frozen hand grabbed his heart. It was Silas. He was obviously still drugged, his eyes were staring at nothing and he was slouched in a wheelchair with small rubber wheels. His father wanted him to harvest the one person left in this world that he was connected to, the one person he had sworn to protect. Raw bitterness flooded his soul. It was a game. For a moment he had been willing to do anything to get back into his father's good graces, anything but that.

"Are you ready?" Lemuel asked. He walked to the door and opened it.

Jamar reluctantly took a step and then stopped. He could not, would not participate in draining Silas. It went against everything Jamar believed and was a violation of his code. Lemuel held the door open for Jamar to go down first and Jamar slowly walked to the stairs. Each step brought him closer to a decision he did not know how to get out of. Even the air around him seemed to hold him back.

"Take him off," Lemuel called from behind Jamar. Foxworth stood at the side of the room and nodded to Dr. Yeager, the overseeing scientist for the Cartiam. It took less time for Dr. Yeager to inject Silas than it took for Jamar to travel down three steps.

"What was he given?" Jamar asked.

"O.L.O. It's a drug that knocks a Car out and keeps them in the emotional state they were in. All of the Cars are still experiencing the heat of their failure. They don't need food or drink while they are under, but they can't stay under to be harvested. We have to take them off one by one. Thus far Project High has increased the prior estimated harvest for all individuals." Lemuel clasped his hands behind his back.

"Won't they wake up on their own?"

"No, the drug will keep them under indefinitely," Foxworth answered when Lemuel was quiet for too long. Lemuel must have glanced at the aide because Jamar heard Foxworth take a step back into the shadows.

"Will we need the guards for it?" Dr. Yeager asked up at Lemuel.

"Ask my son, he's taking point on this one," Lemuel said. He started going down the stairs faster and Jamar had to get out of the way.

Dr. Yeager focused on Jamar. There was nothing about the way he did it that made Jamar feel inferior. In fact, if it had been under any other circumstance Jamar would have been flying high. They were including him, letting him make decisions, listening to what he had to say. Yet his dream was soured by Silas' presence. Silas blinked and his breathing was more controlled. Soon he would be completely coherent. Then he would realize where he was and what Jamar might do to him.

Jamar swallowed. "No, he will be fine."

Dr. Yeager placed his hand on Silas' back and led him toward the table. Silas was still too foggy to know what was happening and stumbled willingly to the Machine. A fog of its own clamored in Jamar head. Was he going to let this happen? Was he going to do nothing? But what could he do. His thoughts swirled inside his head and he couldn't think.

"Wait," Jamar said. Dr. Yeager jerked up to look at him and Jamar gathered that he'd spoken louder than he should have. Lemuel whole body tightened as if he'd been slapped.

"We should test him first," Jamar said. He looked back at his father. "I've read his file. There was a note that said he might be worth a lot if his emotions are high."

Lemuel's eyes narrowed, but he nodded in Dr. Yeager's direction. Dr. Yeager slapped Silas across the face and for the first time Silas looked alert. His eyes widened and his breath caught at the sight of the Machine. Dr. Yeager snatched his scanner from a nearby desk and held it up to Silas' eyes and forehead. There was a beep and Dr. Yeager did it again.

With a slight frown, Dr. Yeager walked over to Lemuel.

"This is the one without an emotional registry. He doesn't even make a blip on the screen. If we try to harvest him now, we may not get much."

Jamar pursed his lips at that and tried to ignore the fact that he was smiling on the inside.

Lemuel was silent.

"Test him again," Jamar said. He wasn't going to give his father a reason to doubt him.

"I tested him twice," Dr. Yeager said.

"When would he be ready?" Jamar let some of his frustration over his situation leak out into his voice.

Dr. Yeager shrugged. "There's no way to tell. It could be months or years."

Silas was looking at them now.

"Do it anyway," Lemuel said. His tone was careless, but Jamar caught a hint of an edge below the surface.

"How much could we lose?" Jamar asked. He shifted his gaze to his father. "How much?"

His father took a moment as if he were considering whether to tell the truth or not. The hard glint in his eyes never diminished, but he said, "Perhaps a million."

Jamar pretended to think a moment. Then he said, "Father I appreciate your gesture, but I can't allow you or the company to lose a million for my sake. If this Car were ready right now I would press the button in an instant, but...I can wait until his emotions are ready."

"You would harvest him?" Lemuel asked.

"Of course, the Car means nothing to me," Jamar said with a small laugh. He could feel Silas looking at him.

"I will hold you to it on that day."

"Until then." Jamar nodded.

Lemuel nodded in return. "Take the Car back to his cell," he said to Foxworth.

Jamar turned to go.

"Just know this," Lemuel said to Jamar's back. "I expect to test your promise soon, very soon."

Chapter 23: Silas

In the nights that Silas had stayed awake watching for the rotation of the guards it had always seemed so quiet, but this was worse. No one moved, no bed creaked and no one went to the bathroom. There wasn't even the occasional cell check from the guards. Patton still breathed in the bunk above, but it was a shallow breathing and he never stirred or sighed. His eyes were open too and he didn't blink. When it was still light Silas had tried to close Patton's eyelid, but they would slide open after a moment and wouldn't stay shut.

Silas wondered how long he had been out. All his muscles quivered and threatened to give when he tried to stand on his own. His mouth tasted like wool and rust and his stomach had a dull ache that hurt the more he tried to do. It felt like he hadn't been fed in days. He checked the food under his mattress and found it covered in mold. Even the orange was a dusting of bluish fuzz that had stained his sheets. There would be no food now. He dumped them down the toilet and stumbled back to his bunk.

With a sigh Silas rolled onto his stomach and stared at the floor. The sun had set hours ago and Silas could not sleep even if he wanted to. He hoped Malina was safe. After hearing what Jamar had said about sending Silas to the Machine, he doubted Jamar had done anything to save his sister. She could be lost to him this very moment and not knowing ripped into his insides over and over.

A door at the Machine end of the hall opened and softly closed. It was like a gun shot in the yard and all of Silas' body tightened. There were footsteps, but not the normal clomping of the guards' boots. The feet padded down the hall stopping at each door. When they reached Silas' door, he saw Jamar peek in the window. His eyes smiled when he saw Silas staring at him and then he completely disappeared. A weight heaved against the bolt and it slid back, slowly inch by inch, each movement punctuated by a grunt. At last the door creaked open and Jamar walked in.

"Hi," Jamar said.

Silas sat up. "Is Malina safe?"

"Wow. This room is really small. It looks bigger from the outside." Jamar took four steps to the toilet and sink and walked back to the door. He noticed Patton staring at the ceiling. "You share this?"

"Yeah, everyone shares their cell," Silas said. "Is my sister okay?"

"She's okay." Jamar was studying the ceiling and stretching out his hands to see if he could touch both walls of the narrow cell. He came short a few inches. Silas had tried that too when he was younger, but his arms had not been as long and it made the room feel bigger to know he could fit almost two arm lengths.

"Where is she?"

"In her cell like, everyone else."

"You mean everyone who wasn't drained."

"Of course."

"Can you get her taken off whatever this is?" Silas asked waving his hand at Patton.

Jamar frowned. "Not without my father noticing."

Silas jumped out of his bed and leaned on the opposite wall. He let his shoulder hit hard, glad for something else to think about. This was not good and Silas couldn't think of any way to make it better.

"Look, I promised I would take care of her and I will. In the control room there is a list of all the names and when they're scheduled. The last time I saw it she was at the bottom of the list. But I'll find it again and remove her file if you want. I'll fix it."

"I want to go with you," Silas said. He pushed off the wall.

"We can't go now," Jamar said a tinge of alarm in his voice.

"When?"

Jamar shrugged and glanced back at the empty hallway. "I'll come back at midnight. I think I heard something about them needing to let the Machine rest for a few hours."

Silas' stomach twisted. They took care with the Machine and all he wished was it would overheat and explode. His muscles were so tight. The cell was too small and close. He felt like he could burst out of it from sheer frustration if he let his emotions go, but even if he wanted to they would not break out of his shell. They smoldered inside him making him raw, sore and tired. If he could crawl out of his own skin he would. He had to get out. He had to do something. His inability to act might crush him and it made him desperate, more desperate than was probably good for him.

"I have to get out," Silas said the words as they resounded again in his mind.

"What?"

Silas quickly took in the puzzled, yet curious angle of Jamar's eyebrows and the open look of his brown eyes. He was taking Malina's life into his hands, but he had to risk it.

"I need to escape," Silas said. He held Jamar's gaze to show how serious he was. "And I have to take Malina with me. Can you help us?"

Jamar's eyebrows wrinkled. "I told you I would protect her. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes." It was the only reason he was telling Jamar anything at all. "But I have to escape. I can't stay here anymore." Silas touched the cool, cement plaster of the wall.

"I can get you and your sister into the farms. You'll be safe--"

"No, you don't understand. I can't live at the farm. I can't live here. These walls...I will go mad if I have to spend the rest of my life here, or anywhere behind a wall."

"But," Jamar started to speak and then stopped. He looked around as if trying to imagine what it must be like to live in a cell everyday your whole life and Silas took a small step closer to increase Jamar's claustrophobia. The cell wasn't big enough for Silas and Jamar to stand side by side in the space between the wall and the bunk. After seeing Jamar's room, he knew just how much smaller his cell was to anything Jamar was used to living in.

"You have to help me."

"I--I can't," Jamar said with a small shake of his head. "My father--it's just I could get into so much trouble."

"You would get in trouble?" Silas let out a snort. "Fine. I'll figure something else out."

"I want to help you," Jamar said. Silas could tell he was earnest, just not willing to go far enough.

"Maybe you don't understand. You drain us of our memories, our emotions, everything that makes us unique individuals."

"You're not unique. All you Cars--Carillians are the same." Jamar crossed his arms. "And the Machine frees you from your emotional baggage."

"If you feel that way about it, why don't you use it?" Silas spits the words out.

"I would, if I had any problems with my emotions."

"So you're perfect and I'm broken."

"You twist everything I say."

"But that is what you're saying."

"That doesn't matter. It's not what I meant," Jamar paused, but Silas was tired of talking. "All I'm saying is that you and I are different. You're Carillian and I'm Tirean and we don't have to deal with the same issues. You've seen how crazy some of the teens will get and one day you'll be the same. Do you really want to keep your emotions when you know you could black out and kill everyone around you? Would you want to risk your sister being around on the day that happened?"

Silas sat back down in his bed. He needed space. Of course he wouldn't want to hurt Malina, but he was not sure that he ever would. Malina had never come close to hurting him, although she'd also never completely gone over the edge.

"So my only options are to stop being me or live so drugged up that I don't notice when my kids are gone? Either one means I won't be me and I would rather be me and know what I've done than live a life never knowing anything."

Jamar shrugged as if to say suit yourself. "That's one way we're different. I would see it as my duty to have something like that under control."

"So you won't help me?"

"Escape? I don't know. I told you I'd think about it." Jamar turned to go. "I'll be back for you at midnight."

Silas nodded and watched as Jamar closed the cell door and locked it. His footsteps faded and the hall door opened and closed and all was quiet. The silence was suffocating.

In one fluid movement, he got out of his bed and jumped up and down. He was too wired to lie on a mattress for the next six hours or so. After thirty minutes of that he switched to running three steps, with one foot pushing off near the toilet, the other landing in the middle of the room and the last step ending at the other wall and then he would reverse it. He didn't know how long he did this. Sweat dripped down his back when he heard the far hall door open again.

It wasn't dark enough for midnight. Boots clomped in the hall and a cell between Silas and the far hall door was opened. A guard with a deep voice said something and then shuffling feet worked their way back to the hall door. They were taking another boy to the Machine. Whatever energy Silas had used up returned with more. Malina. What if they were going to drain her before they let the Machine take a break? He hated not being in the girls ward and knowing if she was okay or in danger. He checked the cell door and tried to push against it, but Jamar had successfully locked the bolt in place.

Silas went back to his running, only this time he didn't bother to let his body stop gently before hitting the wall. He slammed into the concrete with all his weight. There was a small sense of accomplishment when the third time he did it a piece of the concrete dropped and skittered across the floor. It was just smaller than Silas' palm and looked sharp. He quickly found where the piece had come from and inspected it. The hole had several cracks leading away from it, but the inside of the hole was more concrete. Silas tried digging at it, but only a few grains of dust came loose. He hit the cracks with the side of his fist and that had the same results.

There was a crackle and pop and the cell light hissed brighter.

The Machine was working. Silas watched the light dim and brighten, dim and brighten. Each time it seemed to suck more of his hope away. And he knew the lights would keep going until one day nothing was left. He had seen the look in the owner's eyes when Jamar said they should wait to drain him. The owner would never let Silas go to the farm, but even if he did Silas knew he couldn't live that life. He saw the way his father was growing up. He saw how distant his mother became when her children didn't show for family day. It was not the life anyone would want. It was not the life Silas would accept. He had to escape or die.

Silas walked over to the piece of concrete and picked it up. The concrete was rough on one side and smooth on the other. Its edge was sharp, sharp enough to cut through skin. Silas sighed. He sank to the ground and let his back lean against the bed. His head plopped on the mattress and he had to readjust so the implant wouldn't cut into his bone. Silas rolled his head the other way and felt the implant again. It was right at the base of his neck. He fingered the piece of concrete and then gently rubbed it along the back of his neck. He could feel the implant and if he could feel it, he could get it out.

The lights buzzed louder and when they did Silas dug the sharpest side of the concrete into his neck. He didn't care if he hit anything important. The implant had to be removed if he was ever to escape. Warm liquid trickled down his back, but Silas kept going and then the concrete scrapped on something that Silas couldn't feel. He dropped it and felt the opening with his fingers. It was smooth and round, like the capsules they would give for relieving pain. Silas tried to grip it, but his fingers were awkward in the small space.

He made the opening longer and tried again. This time his fingernail caught on the top of the implant and when Silas pulled something popped. His eyes were watering and spots started to cloud his vision. He was going to pass out. There was no way he would pass out with that thing still attached to his neck. He quickly grabbed at the implant and pulled. The last thing he heard was a soft plink on the floor before his sight went dark.

Chapter 24: Jamar

Knots tightened in Jamar's stomach as he waited for midnight to come. For once the brightening and dimming of the lights held more than an annoying aspect of business as usual for him. He watched the light bulb flash and fade until it returned to its normal shine and then his stomach really tightened. It wouldn't be long now.

He watched the second hand on his room's clock slowly slide up to join the hour hand at twelve and when it did, he forced himself to wait another five minutes. If there were any late night inspections he didn't want to walk right into them. He opened his door and listened for any sounds. His father was not in his bedroom across the hall, its door was wide open and the room was dark, but Jamar doubted Lemuel had spent two nights in there since they arrived. He tended to sleep in one of the plush chairs in his office or would arrange for a cot to be set up in the control room, assuming Lemuel went to sleep at all.

Even though there was no one on Jamar's floor he still tiptoed his way into the hall and down the stairs. Every slight creak made him pause, but he was soon fairly confident that he was alone. He could say he was going to get a cup of milk from the kitchen. That was all he tried to repeat in his mind so it would sound true if he had to say it aloud. On the bottom floor he listened a moment for anyone and then walked quietly past Lemuel's study. A light shown from under the door, but there was no sounds coming from it. Jamar pictured Lemuel sitting behind his desk looking at papers.

When he reached the sterilized tiled hall of the Machine building he wished he'd thought to leave his shoes up in his room. No matter how hard Jamar tried to push off with his toes, there was always a small squeak. But the hall and rooms around it were silent. It struck Jamar that they were perhaps more quiet than he'd ever heard them. There was no hum from the Machine or the rustle of paper. Everything was turned off and everyone was tucked in bed.

The boys ward was the same as it had been before. He pushed back the bolt to Silas' cell. It was just as hard as it had been last time and Jamar wondered when it was last used. Something moved inside the cell and Silas was standing in the doorway when Jamar slid the door open.

"You ready?" Jamar asked although it was obvious Silas was.

Silas just nodded and waited until Jamar took a step back before he joined Jamar in the hallway. He glanced up and down the empty hall as if he expected to see someone else appear.

"This way," Jamar said and he led the way back to the Machine room. He half expected Silas to hesitate, but if he did Jamar didn't notice it.

It surprise Jamar with how nice it was to have someone at his back. For once he was in the lead and he actually wanted to do what they had planned. It wasn't some stupid idea from Edworth and he wouldn't be the fall guy if they were caught. He knew that Silas would never tell on him although no one would believe him if he did. He was trusting Jamar to keep them from running into trouble and Jamar would not let Silas down.

At the Machine door, Jamar grasped the handle and turned it slowly. All the overhead lights were out, but a lamp on the computer desk was lit and allowed Jamar to make out a path.

"Where should I look?" Silas asked.

"By that cabinet." Jamar pointed to the far wall and he headed straight for the computer desk. He saw Silas stare at the Machine a moment before taking small steps around it. What did Silas think of the Machine? Was he afraid of it? According to some of the entries he'd read in his ancestor's journal, all Cars had to have a traumatic experience with the Machine to heighten their emotions when they were harvested. It was another way to help increase production.

Jamar quickly scanned all the files scattered about on the desk. Most were logistical, payment slips of parts that were replaced, order forms, letterheads and e-mem requests from individuals and the government. One file caught his eye. It was under other papers, but Jamar could see part of a Carillian id code. He pulled it out. 582322. It was an old id. The person who had it would be dead by now or very, very old.

Jamar opened the file and three papers started to fall to the floor. He snatched at them and caught two between his fingers, but the third fluttered to the ground. The two in his hand were pages torn out of a journal, like the missing pages from his ancestor's journal. He caught his breath and held them to the light.

One page was titled 'The Muted.' And the other looked like a continuation of whatever the muted were. He started reading:

Once every other generation a genetic anomaly occurs in which a Carillian's brain prevents emotions from building like the average Carillian. Their emotional growth is stunted and they present an outward, muted ability for emotion. They are calm when others scream or appear brave when their life is threatened. It is not that the emotion does not exist, simply that it cannot be accessed by the individual or the Machine. Often drastic measures need to be taken with the muted, for of all the Carillians they are the most dangerous, yet they can also be--

"I found it!" Silas' cry split the air. Jamar glanced up to see Silas waving a file in the air. He was standing at the foot of the Machine and Jamar was impressed that he'd gotten that close.

"What do we do with it?" Silas asked.

"One minute." Jamar held up one finger. He was not going to be able to read those pages now, so he stuffed them into his pocket and gave the file one last glance before shoving it back under some of the papers where it was before.

He put a slight jog in his steps and joined Silas. The file was taken from a file holder that now had one gap among a sea of fifteen other files. Jamar took it from Silas and opened it up. It had the right number and the picture was the same girl he first seen Silas talking to.

"What do we do with it?" Silas asked again. "Can we burn it?"

Jamar nearly laughed out loud and tucked it in his pants, pulling his shirt out and around it to keep anyone from seeing it instantly. "No, it would be missed. I'll take it up to my room and wait until the harvest is done before I put it back."

"Is that it?"

"Did you check for yours?" Jamar started to flip through the other file numbers but the sound of footsteps in the hall made him stop.

They were in the middle of the room with only the Machine or an open legged desk to crouch behind. Then his eyes traveled to the darkest part of the room and the stairs leading to the control panel. They might be able to hide there.

"Follow me," Jamar said. He tugged Silas' sleeve toward the stairs. Even in his rush he noticed that the fabric was not very soft, a sure sign of poor quality. It was obvious that Lemuel didn't consider the Cars worth the money for better fabric. Probably one of the ways they'd had to cut back to save money. But Silas' clothes were a dull brown and that would help him to be less noticeable in shadows.

There was a small space behind the stairs. Some boxes were stacked by the wall and Jamar squeezed as close to them as he could while Silas crouched next to him near the bottom steps. They would be mostly hidden, if the light wasn't bright and no one looked in their direction.

Jamar found his heart racing faster and faster as someone jiggled the handle and opened the door. A guard, one of the Ajax if Jamar was right. He shown a flashlight into the room and walked in. He glanced about and then walked over to the computer desk. He aimed the light around the room as if checking for anything out of place. Jamar and Silas ducked even lower, but the light flashed high when it was about to reach them arching up to the control room. The guard kept walking, this time to the Machine and that is where he paused.

Nothing's missing. Move on. Jamar would have sent the thoughts into the guard's empty head if he could. He couldn't see what the guard was looking at because his back blocked it, but it was obvious he was standing in front of the file holder and his lips moved as if he were counting. He spent another minute there and then he spun around and walked right for them. Jamar's breath caught in his throat when the light bounced toward them. Silas ducked his head as the light hit his shoes and then it bounded over to Jamar's back. He waited for a call of alarm or a blinding light in his eyes, but neither came. The guard scrambled up the stairs and disappeared in the control room.

"He's getting Tymas," Silas said, his head tilted up so he could hear.

"I'll fix that," Jamar said. He pushed off of the boxes and with a crouch, ran past the file folder. He had seen another stack of files on the table at the wall and he grabbed the one on top. He flipped it open and saw the picture of some boy named Patton and he rushed back to the file folder slipping it into the empty slot. The flashlight flickered on the ceiling and the guard's voice was raised. The control room door opened just as Jamar was crossing the base of the stair, but the guard must not have noticed and Jamar slipped back into his place.

It took an effort to keep his breathing quiet and his heart was beating so fast. This was the most real excitement that he'd had in years, perhaps his whole life. The only problem was that the file dug into his waist and was making a red crease in his skin which kept him from fully enjoying the moment.

The guard waited and when Tymas appeared he showed him the file folder, but there was no missing file. Tymas smacked his head and then they both left.

Jamar and Silas both breathed out at the same time after the door shut and the footsteps faded away. Letting out a small laugh, Jamar stood up. His leg muscles were tight and his neck was cramped.

"That was fun," Jamar said.

Silas stayed crouched.

"Come on. Let's get you back to your cell before they freak out that something else is missing." Jamar backed out from behind the stairs and started for the door. He was halfway there when he remembered the page from the journal that dropped and turned back, nearly colliding with Silas, to find it. The page was lying under the desk in full view of anyone who might glance in that area. Jamar picked it up and put it with the others in his pocket.

"It's quiet," Silas said. His ear tilted against the door.

"I'll go first, walk to the end of the hallway and check that the boys ward is empty. Then I'll signal to you and you can come. Okay?"

Silas nodded.

Jamar drew closer to the door and listened while he inched the door handle to open. A sliver of light entered the room, but the hall was empty. Squeezing himself through, Jamar tiptoed to the end of the hall and carefully opened that door. Like the hall it was also empty and Jamar waved for Silas to join him. Silas crept up the hall and to Jamar's surprise, if he hadn't been watching he wouldn't have known that anyone was there. He wondered how his shoes could be so quiet.

Together they walked to Silas' cell and Silas waited while Jamar opened the door.

"Thanks for letting me come," Silas said.

"Yeah. Sure." Jamar wasn't certain on how to respond. He wasn't used to being thanked and he couldn't tell if he liked it or if it just felt awkward.

As Silas walked into his cell, Jamar noticed the collar of his shirt was stained brown, like with blood. Yet the stain was faded almost as if it was older or had been poorly washed. He tried to think if it was there the last time he'd seen Silas and he couldn't remember. He couldn't even picture the back of Silas' clothes from that day.

"About my sister...." Silas turned around inside his cell to face the hall.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," Jamar said. He patted his side where the file was still safely secured.

"I know you will. But is there any way you can get her off this drug?"

Jamar hesitated. There was nothing he could do to get his father or anyone to let one girl off the drug. Not only was it the kind of request that would show Jamar's true colors to his father, but it would be outright denied.

"I don't know." Jamar shook his head.

"But if there was a way you would do it."

It was more of a statement and it made Jamar glad that Silas could depend on him.

"Of course." Jamar said and Silas nodded once before heading for his bed. Jamar closed the door and made his way back to his room. He didn't see anyone, but his adrenaline was still pumping a mile a minute.

Once he reached the top floor he practically skipped with glee. The sneaking, the danger, Jamar loved it all. He might never be able to settle down and take over the business after this night. He quickly scanned his room as he entered it for possible hiding places and decided on stuffing the file between his mattresses.

No sooner had he readjusted the blankets when he heard something creak in the hall. Instantly every nerve was on alert, every muscle tensed waiting to jump, but he was in his room. The evidence was hidden and there was no reason to think he'd done anything in the past hour but read a book. Jamar reached for his ancestor's journal on his night stand and leaned back on his pillow.

Two short knocks on his door made his muscles twitch, but he forced himself to relax.

"Who is it?" Jamar called, not too loudly but enough to let the person know he was being interrupted.

"May I come in?" Lemuel's voice asked.

"You may."

The door opened and Lemuel took three steps into the room. His eyes took in the book Jamar was reading and softened, just enough for Jamar to notice it.

"You're still up."

"Yes, I couldn't sleep."

"That often happens for me too."

Jamar just stared at him. He kept his face blank, but he was still mad and he refused to allow something as stupid as the fact that they both had trouble sleeping to give them a reason to bond with his father. No, Lemuel would have to work much harder than that if he ever wanted to get back into Jamar's good graces. Then it struck him as odd that he was even willing to let his father back in one day. But it would not be today, if ever.

"I see you are keeping up with your reading." Lemuel nodded at the journal.

"It's a lot to think about."

"Yes, it is. What do you think of all that has happened in the last week?"

"The riot and such?"

Lemuel nodded.

"How are our profits looking?"

"Not quite as high as I hoped. When they are brought in and taken off the drug they respond accordingly, but not as deeply as I would like."

Jamar sat up straighter. "Perhaps they lack a personal attachment. If you took everyone off the drug then they would know how many of their friends are gone and would have a greater fear that they will be next."

Silence filled the room and Jamar wondered if he'd pushed it too far or too fast.

Lemuel pressed his lips together and tilted his head in thought. "You may have a point. I can tell your reading is starting to pay off. You can never underestimate the value of fear. Remember that."

"I will. And I'm sorry about earlier."

"For a moment I thought you might have an unwelcome interest in that Car's wellbeing." Lemuel stance stayed loose, but he seemed more watchful and Jamar knew he was still playing the game and suspected him of wanting to help Silas.

Letting his eyes drop in shame, Jamar said, "You may have been right. It was fun to have a playmate my age, one who would do whatever I wanted."

"An easy trap to fall into, but he is not a toy or a pet. He is stock and you have to be prepared to harvest them at all times. You cannot allow even the smallest attachment to form."

Jamar nodded. "I understand better now, although it is also true that I don't want you to lose money on him. Is there a way to make the Car ready to harvest?"

"It would be difficult, but there are some things I could try. They would take time though."

"Well, the sooner I can harvest him the better."

"I'll start up a plan and perhaps you could join me in the control room to see if your idea works."

Jamar let himself smile. "I look forward to it."

"Then I'll see you in the morning."

Chapter 25: Silas

It was not the padding of boots that woke Silas up, but the sound of sighs and murmured groans as the boys in the ward started to wake up. After a whole day without hearing anything, the sounds of even the smallest movements were trumpet blasts to Silas' ears. His heart jolted in his sleep, but once he realized that the others were waking his whole body relaxed. Jamar had done it. He wasn't sure how, but Jamar was behind everyone waking up.

His neck was stiff and now that the excitement of the night had worn down, his stomach growled for food. He hadn't been fed once since waking up. To ease his stomach some he drank as much water as he could without bloating. It helped a bit, but he knew if they were forced to run he would have problems.

Patton groaned and rolled over in his bunk.

"Are you...what day happened?" he asked. His throat sounded dry and he coughed.

"What?"

"I--I don't know." Patton sighed.

"Everyone was knocked out during the riot and has been asleep ever since."

"Not you?" Patton took his time taking in Silas' alert state.

"No, I was too. I woke up earlier, but not by much." His roommate didn't need to know how long it was.

Patton didn't respond. He just stared at the other wall as if he didn't have the energy to do anything else. Silas crawled back into his bunk going slower than he could. There was nothing he could do until he talked to Malina. The minutes blended together. Patton half fell out of his bunk to pee and drink some water. While the faucet was running Silas thought he heard the hall door open, but with all the other cells containing movement it was harder to tell. The boot stomps in the hall on the other hand were perfectly clear.

"Out!" Westminster shouted as a cell door down the hall opened.

Patton shuffled closer to the door and Silas rolled out of his bed. He felt under his pillow for the implant and slipped it into his pocket once he was certain Patton wasn't watching. In case they could still monitor its location it would be best for him to keep it with him.

Their cell door opened and Westminster shouted, "Out!" just like he did for all the others. He didn't even seem to notice they were ready and only needed him to move out of the way. Silas tried to match Patton's sluggish walk, especially once they were in the hall and it was obvious that everyone else could barely stand. It was hard to drag his feet on the floor when he couldn't wait to get out into the yard and all his insides wished the line would hurry up.

The hall filled with boys like a bucket filled with a gentle trickle of water. Silas noticed that there weren't as many boys as there usually were and he wondered how long he'd been out. Stephen was gone, so was Sebastian. With a creak the yard doors opened and they stumbled out into the sun. Since Stephen wasn't there to lead them, the first two guys try to run like normal, but there was no gun shot when the third boy tripped out of the running path. The boys couldn't keep their feet going and one slumped against the wall which also did not receive a warning shot. By the time Silas could walk around the group in front of the doors no one was even attempting to run. The same was true of the girls' side only there were more girls than there were boys. Not as many of them had been taken.

Malina was pressed against the wall inside the corner that couldn't be recorded. She knew he would want to talk. Her eyes were red, but when she saw him they lit up and she smiled, yet the smile quickly faded from her eyes.

"I worried about you," she said, her voice was still scratchy.

"I worried about you too," Silas said and let his lips smile back.

She dropped her eyes and Silas leaned next to her.

"You were right and I was stupid. We should have gotten out before."

"Do you still have the e-mem?"

Malina nodded.

"If you see Cortez, ask if we can get out tonight."

There was a small gasp from Malina and Silas noticed she wasn't paying attention to him.

"He's still alive." Malina straightened her back.

Silas glanced over to the yard doors as Marcus was escorted out the last boy left. His eyes were haunted and his shoulders drooped. No one looked in his direction although everyone knew he was there. He made his way to the nearest gap in the wall and sat in the dirt. Then his eyes looked up and found them. Malina gave him a half wave and she tried to tuck some of her stray hairs behind her ear.

"You heard me right?" Silas asked.

"Yes, we have to get out tonight," Malina said. "And we have to bring Marcus."

"What?"

"I'll talk Cortez into it, but he has to come with us. There is no way they will let him live if he stays. Look at him all alone."

"Malina--"

"Why are you doing this, Silas?"

"What?"

"Tell me why you want to do this."

Wasn't it obvious? "To save you."

"Well, I want to save someone too. I--I think I love him."

Silas blinked. He checked Marcus out again. The guy was taller than Silas, a young seventeen with tan olive skin and dark brown hair that curled at his neck. He looked fairly average to Silas, definitely not hideous, but not the most handsome guy in the yard. Silas wasn't really sure he wanted to figure out what his sister might see in Marcus, but she was right. Marcus would not be allowed to go to the farm. If Malina wouldn't go without him then he would have to come. It might be good to have another guy to protect her.

"Fine," Silas said. "If Cortez will take all three of us then he can come."

"He will." Malina smiled. She reached over and brushed Silas' hair off his brow. "You are the best brother. Just think tonight we can run under the trees and climb a mountain. We can do whatever we want because we'll be free."

She walked over to Marcus and sat next to him. He listened for a bit. His eyes jumped to the wall with a near panic in his gaze, but then he nodded his head. Not a muscle was relaxed, he was ready to go.

They would be free. The words were wonderful, but they tasted sour as Silas spent the rest of the yard time watching the other boys and girls. Tomorrow would be another day like all the others before it. They would still be here behind the wall hoping that the guards would not come for them or anyone else they cared about.

When everyone returned to their cells a small lunch of grilled cheese was waiting.

"You're awfully quiet," Patton said, between bites of his sandwich.

Silas stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and rolled into his bed.

"Fine," Patton said. He climbed into the top bunk and pushed hard off of Silas' frame so that the mattress bounced. Patton kept all his books up on his bunk and Silas closed his eyes. He managed to nap some before dinner was brought. It was some kind of casserole that tasted of freezer burned meat and salt water. Aside from the casserole, there were also two apples on the tray and Silas slipped his into his pocket. He had to save something for later.

Somehow he managed another nap, but once the sun set and his cell was dark, Silas couldn't get his heart to slow down. Patton's breathing was shallow and paced like it always was when he was in a deep sleep. The after effects of the drug probably helped.

It took a lot of concentration to forget that he would be abandoning Patton here. Who knew what questions Patton would have to answer or how he might be punished? The only thing Silas held onto was that he could not save everyone. He had to save Malina first. All others were blocked out of Silas' mind. He could hate himself later, but there would always be someone he would have to leave. It was best not to think about it.

A short scrape sounded at the door, but Silas ignored it and then the cell door cracked open. Silas nearly jumped out of bed. Cortez beckoned him with a finger and Silas crept out of his cell.

A large cleaning cart with three rubber trash cans blocked much of the hall. Cortez pointed to the middle can, pointed to Silas and pulled off the lid.

"What about my sister?" Silas whispered.

Cortez held a finger to his lips and pointed to the first can. Silas stepped onto the cart and waited for Cortez to hold it still while he swung his leg over the edge and climbed inside. A powerful wave of bleach, moldy cheese and rotten banana peels swirled around him. It was so strong that he almost tried to stand, but Cortez was already securing the lid and Silas was trapped. He held his breath as the cart was pushed down the hall and had to breathe in when it stopped and Cortez opened the cell door for Marcus.

Marcus was much quicker to obey, although when he climbed into his can he bumped into the others and Silas' ear smashed into something gooey. He wanted to rub his ear, but anytime he started to move his hand the displacement of his weight sounded so loud he was certain if there were any guards within hearing that they'd hear. Instead he concentrated on not breathing deeply and listening to the music of the cart's wheel as they squeaked over the floor.

The cart jumped as it hit a bulge in the tiles and Silas' ear hit the goo again. There was a pause and then the cart jumped violently. Marcus' can slammed into Silas' can making him lose his balance. He squished against the can's side praying he wouldn't tip over and ruin everything. The whole cart began to jounce. It took every muscle for him to push against the other side of the can and keep it somewhat stable. This kept up for a while until Silas' muscles burned and shook. Then the cart stopped.

"You can come out now," Cortez said. He spoke softly, but Silas heard him. He struggled to his feet and pushed the lip off. His first breath was so sweet, cool and fresh that it tasted like freedom itself. They had stopped by the edge of the woods. Silas scrambled off of the cart and Malina wasn't far behind him.

Cortez cleared his throat and held out his hand. He stared, pointing at Malina, but she was gazing at the trees. Silas elbowed her. "You need to pay him."

"Right." She let out a small laugh and handed Cortez the e-mem. The moon cast a bright light that left shadows stretching out around them. Marcus finished climbing out and they all watched as Cortez spun the cart around and headed back for the Cartiam.

"Now what?" Marcus asked. His voice sounded small next to the tall trees and dark open sky.

"We have to get as far from here as we can," Silas said. He glanced back at the Cartiam. They were on the opposite side from where he'd been with Jamar, but that meant that the road they were on went to the nearest town. They had to head for the mountain and as far away from other people who might realize who they were as possible.

"This way." Silas started off into the woods at a fast jog.

Malina and Marcus kept pace behind him, although Marcus spent much of his time looking over his shoulder. They ran for two hours always heading in a straight line for the mountain. Once Silas feared he'd gotten turned around, but there was a small clearing in the woods that let him see they were almost on track. The moon shone at their backs and as long as Silas kept it there they headed in the right direction.

There was a short cry and someone behind him tumbled to the ground. Silas stopped.

Marcus was on his hands and knees and then he collapsed on the ground.

"You're hurt." Malina rushed to his side and tried to help him up.

"I think I twisted my ankle. We're running too fast and it is night."

Malina glanced back at Silas. He knew she would want him to slow down, but they had to get away. If they were caught now all his planning would be for nothing.

"Can you get up?" Silas asked.

"I--I don't think I can yet. Can we rest a bit?"

"Of course," Malina said.

Marcus was breathing heavy, more than Silas was and more than Malina was. He should be used to running. What they'd done so far was not that much more than they did most days. Granted not in as many days recently, but the training was there.

"What was that?" Marcus asked. His head whipped around.

"I didn't hear anything," Malina said.

Silas held his finger to his lips and they all listened. The forest was quiet.

A twig snapped a hundred yards out and to the left.

"Get up." Silas said.

Marcus shook his head.

Off to the right a leaf rustled.

"We have to go if we don't want to get caught," Silas said to his sister. He pulled her sleeve and she stood up.

"We can't leave him."

"If he won't get up then we have to unless you want to go back."

Malina glanced back at Marcus. His head was bowed and he looked even more defeated than he had in the yard.

Something crashed twenty yards away. For a brief moment Silas hoped it was a bear, but then Malina screamed out and grabbed her head. Marcus' teeth were gritted in pain too. Their implants. Dark shadows were emerging from the woods and if Silas turned and ran in that moment he might still be able to escape. Malina was curled into a ball and she turned her face toward him and yelled, "Go!" Then the pain was too much and she passed out.

Silas took a step and stopped. He couldn't leave. What's more he would not leave her. Whatever might happen he wanted them to be together. The approaching guards covered the gap and it was too late. The giant hulk of Tymas stepped out from the trees. He instantly took the crumpled bodies of Malina and Marcus and a standing Silas.

"Interesting," his deep voice resonated in the forest. Then Westminster grabbed Silas from behind.

Chapter 26: Jamar

For Jamar, the morning after talking with Lemuel was a return to normal. Carlyle was back and they practiced sword fighting all morning. The afternoon was filled with science, economics, government, history and research for three essays that would be due by the end of the week. Since he'd been busy the last few days, Carlyle seemed determined to make up on everything they'd missed in a single day. Despite the hard work Jamar was relieved to have something to occupy his time. By the late evening he finished writing one of the essays and he went straight to bed.

Early the next morning Jamar started writing his second essay before the sun was even up. Carlyle did not take late excuses. It had been a while since he had to keep up with Carlyle's homework schedule. He was out of practice and it wouldn't do to get too far behind.

There was a knock at the door. It was too early for them to bring him breakfast and Carlyle would have more work for Jamar to do. Jamar considered saying 'Don't come in,' but instead he said, "Come in." He was in the midst of writing a sentence and kept his head down to finish it.

The door opened and Jamar waited a second to check his grammar before glancing up. It was Lemuel.

"Hard at work, I see," he said with a slight smile.

Jamar put his pen down and straightened his paper.

"I've told Carlyle that he is to have the day off. There has been a new development I'd like you to take part in."

"Should I come now?" Jamar asked.

"I would appreciate that. If you need extra time to finish your work I'll see that you get it. Education is important, but the company has to come first."

Jamar fingered his night clothes. "I will change and be right down."

"Excellent. Meet me in the control room."

Lemuel left. The instant the door closed Jamar jumped up, threw his clothes on and ran a comb through his hair. He took the stairs at a jog and it was only when he reached the bottom that he wondered if this had anything to do with Silas. The thought jerked his step short and he paused. He wished he'd checked on the Carillians, but the Cartiam seemed quiet enough the day before that they were probably still drugged. When he entered the Machine room he was a bit relieved to see that it was empty.

"Perfect timing," Lemuel said. He pointed to a tray with bowls of oatmeal, and plates of eggs and fruit. "Help yourself. They should be here in the next ten minutes."

"Who?" Jamar asked, but before Lemuel could answer Foxworth buzzed on the intercom and Lemuel leaned over to listen. Feeling famished, Jamar scooped some eggs onto a small plate and shoveled them into his mouth. He was on his seconds when Lemuel clicked off the intercom, stood and stretched.

"They're early."

The double doors to the Machine room opened and Jamar stood to see who was being brought in. Tymas held a struggling girl whose hair covered her face and there were two guys, one was Silas. Jamar's eyelids slid shut. His stomach squished around the eggs he'd just eaten and he no longer wanted anything else.

"Last night," Lemuel said. "While you and I were sleeping, these three broke out of the Cartiam and tried to escape to the mountains. We caught them easily enough and brought them back, but this escape was sooner than I planned."

"You wanted them to escape?"

Lemuel smiled when he looked at Jamar. "It was your idea really and I knew you would want to be here when we tried it out."

Every single word Jamar had uttered in the last two days flew through his mind. He hadn't suggested they let Silas escape and then capture him, had he? Sweat formed on his brow. He took a closer look at Silas. Compared to the other guy and the girl, who was undoubtedly Malina, Silas was unrealistically calm. Having freedom ripped from him was not enough to make his emotions break through.

There was a short high-pitched note and then Lemuel's voice said over the intercom, "If you tell me who helped you escape, I will let you live."

All three Carillians look up, but Silas' gaze was aimed at the control room. Jamar realized the other guy was the same one he'd seen in his father's office, Marius--no Marcus, that was it. None of them said anything. Marcus hung his head, but Malina glared up and pressed her lips together.

"If you stay silent I will make you watch the Machine harvest the girl."

Silas stiffened and glanced at Malina.

"We won't tell you anything," Malina shouted.

"Yes, we will," Marcus said. His voice was harder to hear through the wall, but it was still there. Jamar had to lean closer to the intercom to hear him.

"Marcus, don't," Malina said. She strained against the guard holding her. "They can't do anything to us that we don't let them."

With a shake of his head, Marcus said, "There's nothing we can do. There never was anything we could do. We will always be powerless, it's better to give up while we have something they want."

"But you said we--" Malina was starting to shake.

"I know what I said. I was wrong," Marcus said and he took a step closer to the control room and the guard let him. "You said our deal was for me to convince them to escape and then I could go to the farms, but I want a new deal."

"What?" Malina stared at him in shock.

"You set us up?" Silas asked. He looked from Marcus to the control room and back.

"Our deal will remain as it was." Lemuel let the words go one by one.

Marcus shook his head. "No, I want to be taken to the farm today and I won't talk until I'm there. You didn't say anything about them approaching me. It all happened too fast. I tried to do everything I could to slow--"

A sharp screech rattled the control room and Marcus never had a chance to finish his sentence. One moment he was standing and the next Malina had thrown him to the floor and was hitting him all the while screaming at the top of her lungs. Silas rushed to her and tried to wrap his arms around her, but she evaded him. He couldn't hold her or get close enough for a proper grip. Her face was a bright red and even from where he was standing Jamar could see a vein in her forehead throbbing faster than he thought possible. She would not be reasoned with and kept punching Marcus in the face, chest and arms anywhere she could. It didn't stop even when Marcus' arms went slack and sprawled on the tile and his eyes rolled back in his head.

A satisfied smile lit Lemuel's eyes. "She's ready."

"No!" Silas cried out. He tried to step between Tymas and his sister but Tymas pushed him back into the waiting arms of a Tirean guard. With the help of a third guard, an Ajax, Tymas grabbed Malina and dragged her to the metal table. It took a lot of effort, and the added aid from Foxworth, but they managed to strap her down and started to hook the Machine to her head. Malina screamed and shook so much that the headgear fell off, but they quickly reattached it.

"Shall I begin?" Dr. Yeager's voice crackled over the intercom. Jamar couldn't see him, but from his angle he couldn't see half of the room.

"Start the film and see if it does the trick." Lemuel clicked the button of the intercom and walked over to the food. He picked up a bowl of oatmeal and began to eat.

Jamar couldn't move. He could see Silas staring up at the control room and he wondered if Silas could see him. He'd promised Silas he'd take care of Malina, but she'd exploded and was ready to be harvested in a moment. She was already on the table there was not much Jamar could do now. A light from the overhead screen flashed across her face, but the Machine's whine was still on neutral, it wasn't able to collect anything even though her emotions overflowed. Tears and screams racked her body. They frightened him in a way the bear never would. She was uncontrollable. She needed help, but Silas would have her stay this way.

What's worse, he'd promised he would keep her from the Machine and she was already there. It wasn't like the last time with Silas. She was ready to be harvested and she would make them money. No excuse would change her fate now.

Jamar paced along the windows and he could feel Lemuel's eyes watching him. He wasn't sure how long he kept it up, but his feet started to hurt. Lemuel suggested he sit, only once though. He seemed content to eat and watch his son pace. Finally, Jamar settled at a spot where he could lean against the wall and see both Malina and Silas. Throughout it all Malina's emotions never lessened. It wore Jamar out to watch it and made him feel raw and gritty.

Yet seeing her thrash around like that also made him cold. Was he really saving her? Wouldn't she be better, happier if she didn't have to deal with it? Perhaps the best way to save her was to let the Machine do its job. Silas would disagree, but there might be nothing he could do now.

The control room door opened to reveal Foxworth.

"It's not working."

Jamar wanted to sigh with relief, but Lemuel let out a small laugh. "They think they're so smart. She has locked them away."

"What should we do?"

"Find a way to unlock them."

Foxworth ran his fingers through his hair. "But how would I do that. It could be anything."

Lemuel turned to Jamar. "What do you think? What would this Car care the most about?"

"I don't know." Jamar shrugged.

"Just tell me the first thing that comes across your mind."

There was no way Lemuel would let him out of answering and he had to appear like he was trying to help. It occurred to him that the only answer he could give was one that they must already know. "Her family?"

"They never use their family. It's too obvious," Foxworth said.

Lemuel scratched the skin of his cheek. "Her brother is here. Bring him into her line of sight and we'll see."

Foxworth nodded and returned to the Machine room.

Placing back his empty oatmeal bowl, Lemuel stood and said, "Let's go down. I want you to have a closer look at this."

A knot formed in Jamar's throat and no matter how he tried to swallow it wouldn't go away. He hoped he'd done the right thing.

Chapter 27: Silas

Silas stood with his back to the wall and Tymas and Hugle on either side. It felt as though days were passing and every scream from Malina was another needle in his back. There had to be some kind of chemical or devise that kept her from calming down because she would not be controlled. Even though it looked like there were moments when she wanted to be. He wanted to help her, but she never looked at him.

The screen above her was running through its scenes a second time. There were pictures of her cell, girls and boys that she knew. The one of Marcus made her shriek and struggle both times she saw it. After she'd knocked him out they had removed him, although Silas wasn't sure when. He just wasn't in the room now. Silas' head hurt trying to piece everything together.

It had seemed odd that Marcus survived the aftershock of the riot, but for Marcus to give up on everything he'd said didn't feel right. Silas thought he was ready to die for the right to stand up against injustice. It must have been some deal to turn his back on what he believed and betray them.

Yet as much as Silas wanted to hate Marcus he couldn't. He'd felt the same shock that Malina did, but she'd done something about it. He stood there watching, like he did in the woods. He should have pulled Malina away. They were so close, but he'd hesitated. Why did he have to freeze when he needed to act?

The same was true now. He wasn't fighting, he wasn't resisting. His sister was connected to the Machine and he was still doing nothing about it. The heavy hand of Tymas squeezed his shoulder and weighed down on him, but even without it Silas wasn't sure he could move.

The door to the control room opened and a young man Silas had seen before came down the stairs. He was followed by Lemuel and Jamar. Silas watched them. Jamar's face looked pinched and he didn't look in Silas' direction although Silas was certain Jamar knew he was there.

Lemuel snapped his fingers at the guards holding him and motioned them forward. Tymas snatched Silas' right arm and Hugle grabbed the other. Together they propelled Silas across the room until he was right at the foot of the Machine. He tried to reach out but the grip on his arms only tightened.

"Bring him closer," Lemuel said.

They pulled Silas into the bright beam concentrated on the Machine. He felt the heat from the light, but it did nothing to ward off the chill inside. The moment Malina saw Silas she stopped struggling, although her whole body shook.

"She's not quite ready, but we're getting much closer," said a man in a white coat who was monitoring a bar graph of vitals on a small computer screen.

"Are you okay?" Silas asked, his voice catching in his throat. Her face was red from straining, sweat drenched her hair so that it stuck to her face. One strand had fallen across the center of her left eye and all Silas wanted was to brush it aside. But every time he tried to move they dragged him back another inch or two.

"Do you know you are the first happy memory I have?" Malina asked. A small tear leaked out of her left eye as she looked at him. "When Mother brought you home she told me I was not allowed to touch you. But you were so tiny. Your hands, your ears, your mouth. When she was resting I would sneak over to your blanket and you would wrap your fingers around mine. I thought you were perfect."

"Don't Malina," Silas whispered. He could almost see her giving up in front of him.

She just smiled. "And the day you arrived at the Cartiam was the best day of my life. You were exactly as I remembered and you looked so scared. I--I was the one who spread the rumor about Sebastian's babu." She gave a small laugh. "I made the thing up and it worked. He left you alone. You were my soft spot. I wanted...I want you to be happy."

Silas leaned closer. "If you knew that then why didn't you make yourself a key?"

"Because I already had one...."

"Sir, she's ready."

"It was you."

"Jamar, would you like to push the button?"

There was a loud click and then the whine of a drill. Malina gasped and shuddered. Silas heard a soft clink and a small, smoky glass ball, barely an inch around, rolled down a tube into a bucket. His face from different times appeared and disappeared in the smoke.

"Stop! No!" Silas tried to break free.

Malina jerked again and again as more glass balls flowed from the tube connected to her brain. The hum from the Machine increased with each one making the overhead light shine with intensity. She stared up at the ceiling and bit her lip. Her eyes not nearly as bright as they once were.

"You have to--Jamar! Stop this please! Let her go."

Jamar just stared at Malina an unreadable expression on his face. None of Silas' words seemed to register.

"If you want it to stop then why don't you do something about it," Lemuel said. "After all, it's only because of you that she's here."

"What do you mean?" The question came from Jamar.

Lemuel waved his hand at Malina. "She's nothing special. An average Car, with what looks like an average harvest. She could have just as easily gone to the farm."

"Then why didn't you let her go there?" Jamar asked.

"Him. He's the only reason she was kept back. All you have to do is watch five minutes of his film. He looks at her, he talks to her and he would do anything for her, but he's defective. You were right when you said he would need an intense event to bring his emotions out and that's why she's here."

"If I'm the one you want then take me and let her go," Silas said. He tore his eyes away from her and met the indifferent stare of Lemuel. He could hear more clinks of bigger glass balls rolling away, but perhaps it wasn't too late.

Lemuel's thin lips smirked. "I can do whatever I want to you. And I will."

Silas was a cold, dull rock inside. He turned back to Malina and the draining memories. She wasn't shuddering nearly as much. Although tears still streamed down her cheeks its flow was also not as strong. He just stared at her watching as the life in her eyes slipped away.

Then it was finished.

"Test him," Lemuel said.

Silas knew what they would find. He was crushed inside, dead. Malina's cheeks began to dry, her eyes stared at the ceiling and they looked like Silas felt. Hugle unhooked the head gear and unstrapped her limbs. Deep red marks on her forehead, wrists and ankles were all that was left as evidence of her struggle.

"Sit up," Hugle said and she did so with her eyes not bothering to look at anyone.

"He still doesn't register," the doctor said.

"Well, we gave it a shot. Put him in isolation so he can think over what he's done. Perhaps we can try other, more physical ways of getting to him."

Tymas jerked his arm and pulled him away from the Machine. Silas moved but he didn't notice anything until he was standing alone in a white exam room. All he could see was the look in Malina's eyes when she saw him. It was his fault that she didn't make it to the farm. He failed her and now he had nothing.

Chapter 28: Jamar

"Where will they take her?" Jamar asked. He didn't watch as Silas was removed from the room.

"To the third floor where the empty Cars wait until we need their organs or they die."

Jamar nodded. He didn't have the energy to do much more. A weight had settled around him either from watching the harvest or from knowing he could not keep his promise to Silas. He walked over to the bin where all the e-mems had collected. Each glass ball flashed images from Malina's life. Jamar picked a few up. The bigger balls contained scenes like everyone running in the yard, eating in the cafeteria and lying on the bed in her cell.

There were more personal scenes like individual faces in the medium balls. Several girls, a few boys, a middle aged man and woman who were probably her parents filled that size. A few even had Malina looking at herself in a mirror trying to fix her hair.

But the smallest balls all had some image of Silas: a nine-year image of him staring up at the sky, a twelve-year image of him running across the yard, a recent image of him popping out of a garbage can and six-month-old image of his toothless mouth smiling at her.

"Can I study these?" Jamar asked.

"What for?" Lemuel's tone was disinterested.

"I want to know why some of these images were more important--or...stronger than others."

His father raised his eyebrows. "I'm glad you're taking such an interest in this. Yes, you may take the bin up to your room and return them to Foxworth when you are finished. I'd also be very interested in hearing what you find. Give me a report when you're done."

"I will," Jamar said. Lemuel left the room with a bundle of papers under his arms leaving Jamar alone.

At the very bottom of the bin was the first e-mem that came out. It was small, only an inch around and it had captured Silas as he stared at her just moments before the e-mem was made. The look of despair in his eyes was more than Jamar could bear. He slipped the e-mem in his pocket. There had to be something he could do to make it right.

Silas had told him he wanted to escape, but Jamar wouldn't help. It could have saved them from being caught and all of this would have never happened. Jamar wouldn't have allowed the Marcus guy to go with them. There would have been no point to losing more Cars than necessary. But Silas and Malina would have been free, far away from the Machine and from Lemuel with all his schemes.

They still could be. Jamar glanced at the doors, the last place he'd seen Silas. He could open his cell and give them the edge they needed to escape. He could still keep his promise, most of it. Perhaps Silas could forgive him for what happened. He'd find a way to release Malina, get supplies and then get Silas. He'd have to do it tonight. There was no telling what Lemuel would do with Silas in the morning.

Foxworth entered the room and began wiping down the Machine with a cleaning solution.

"Have this bin brought up to my room," Jamar told him and he left. He was surprised to realize the sun had already set. A whole day had gone by, although he felt tired enough for it to be several days.

He paused by his father's office and then knocked on the door.

"Come in," Lemuel said.

"Sorry for bothering you Father," Jamar said poking his head around the door. "Did that boy talk about how they escaped?"

Lemuel shook his head. "No, he's in a coma."

"When he wakes up you should harvest him," Jamar said. "There's nothing worse than finding someone has gone back on their word."

Jamar shut the door and made his way to the servant areas. He snatched three uniforms out of a closet and a pillow case. Then he snuck into the kitchen area and filled the pillow case with food, mostly bread, cheese and anything else he could think of that might not perish.

Then he slipped up to his room and put on one of the uniforms. He found a floppy hat in the pocket of one and pulled it low over his eyes. The bin of e-mems was on his desk and he went through them again. He held one up to the light and could see a thin film that ran through the middle of the circle. It was from this that the images were projected. Sometimes the images stayed the same but other times they moved.

There was another e-mem just a smidge bigger than an inch that showed all the times Malina had seen Silas smile. Most were half smiles where it was just his eyes, but a few had smiles that reached the mouth too. He put that e-mem in the pillowcase.

Taking the pillow case and the extra uniforms, Jamar snuck back down to the bottom floor. The house was silent, but it was only nine or ten. Jamar couldn't wait. He knew they would need as much of a head start as they could get.

He entered the Machine building and looked for a staircase. There were two doors on either side of the hall right by the main entrance. He tried the first one but it was locked. He hoped he didn't need a key to get to the top floor. It would ruin everything and he didn't think he could talk Silas into leaving without her. He tried the other door and it opened to a stairwell.

With a short sigh, Jamar stashed the pillowcase and one of the uniforms behind the steps and then walked slowly to the third floor. He should have thought to bring a broom or tray of food or something that would give him an excuse for being there. The door at the top of the stairs opened to a well-lit, but empty desk and the rest of the floor seemed abandoned. Jamar walked from room to room. Most of the occupants were sitting in a chair or lying in bed. They all stared straight ahead and once in a while one would blink.

Malina was standing in the middle of the room as if she'd forgotten what she was supposed to do.

"Here," Jamar said. "Put this on."

He held out the clothes to her and she stared at them.

"Put it on," Jamar said each word slowly and carefully. If she didn't do it then he was going to let Silas figure it out, but she reached out and took the uniform. She began to stick her foot in the pants and pull it on over her clothes. That would be close enough.

The next issue he would have was her implant. He did a quick search of the drawers that revealed nothing. Then he walked back to the nurse's desk. He hoped it would have to have something to remove the implants. The metal in the implants was too valuable to let it rot with a Car after they were dead.

In the second drawer there was an implant remover, it looked more like a small hook with a guiding laser. Jamar returned to Malina's room to see her standing where he'd left her and wearing the uniform.

"Bend your neck," Jamar said and she complied. He pushed her hair out of the way and switched the implant remover on. It beeped when he pointed it at her neck and the beeping got louder and louder until it let out high-pitched pops. Then he pressed the button and the hook dug into her neck and pulled the implant out. He half expected Malina to cry out, but she didn't.

"Follow me," Jamar said.

She stayed one step behind him and at the bottom of the steps she blocked his way out when he went to get the pillowcase.

The hall was empty so they started for the boys ward. At each of the exam rooms, Jamar peered in the window. These doors were different from the ward doors. Their galvanized metal knobs looked like they might need a key, something Jamar didn't have. He peeked in the last exam room and saw Silas sitting on the edge of a cot, a tray of untouched food beside him. He was staring at the wall and didn't look like he'd moved an inch since he got in there. Jamar tapped on the glass and turned the knob, surprisingly the door opened.

Silas didn't even bother to look.

"Silas," Jamar hissed.

"What?" He didn't stop looking at the wall. It was as if his eyes were glued there.

"I can help you escape."

"What does it matter if I escape? They'll just find me and bring me back."

"I've brought your sister. She's in the hall."

"Malina?" A dim spark hit him and he stood up.

He tried to walk past Jamar, but Jamar tossed the uniform in his chest. "Put that on first."

Like his sister, Silas put it on over the clothes he was wearing and then he pushed past Jamar to get into the hall.

"Malina?" he said as soon as he saw her. She looked at him but it was the same look she gave Jamar or the uniform.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. She didn't flinch or smile. It meant nothing to her. Carefully, as with a newborn, Silas pulled her into a hug and she let him, although her arms stayed at her side.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Silas whispered into her hair over and over.

Jamar sighed. "We have to move if this is going to work."

Silas stiffened and let Malina go. "Why do you care?"

"I made you a promise--"

"And look how well you kept that!" Silas motioned at Malina.

"I'm sorry." It was the first time Jamar had said the words and actually meant it.

"I asked you to keep her safe. You made me think I could trust you, but no. I heard what your dad said. The whole thing was your idea."

"It wasn't my idea." Jamar started to walk down the hall. Their voices could attract the wrong kind of attention. Silas followed him and so did Malina.

"Then who's was it?"

Jamar let out a short laugh. "My father has ideas for his ideas. There are whole books of them. He already knew what he was going to do, I just happened to say it out loud."

"Just tell me this. Why should I trust you now?"

"Because you saved my live and I want to return the favor. And because we're friends." He straightened his back and tried to keep calm. Silas was distraught, perhaps a little in shock over seeing his sister like this, but he would be fine especially once Jamar had the chance to explain how she was better off this way. He would come around.

Jamar jerked the hall door open and held his finger to his lips. He tiptoed down the main house hall, past his father's office. Silas didn't bother to walk silently. It was as if he was asking to get caught again, only this time he would be taking Jamar down with him. Jamar gave him a look, but Silas ignored him.

There was a creak and a door down the hall opened. Jamar and Silas jumped behind a decorative cabinet, but Malina stood in the middle of the hall. Inwardly Jamar groaned. He dashed out and tried to pull her with him, but Tymas walked into the hall and saw them.

"What are you doing?" he demanded and he stomped toward them.

Jamar did an awkward bow and touched his hat so it covered his eyes. He held up the pillowcase and gave his voice a hoarse, gravelly tone. "Just finished gathering the laundry, sir."

Tymas frowned. "Why are you working so late?"

"It's a big house sir."

"You are never to enter the main areas when the owner is here. Understand? Now get back to the kitchen. And don't think I will let this slide. I'll have a word with your superior in the morning." Tymas brushed past them and exited the main house.

Jamar murmured another "Yes, sir," at Tymas' back and once the hall door closed Silas joined them. They reached the main doors and Jamar gently opened them. He checked to make sure the way was clear and he motioned for them to join him. It was raining, but Jamar figured that was good. It would make it harder to track them. Jamar waited until they were past a bend in the road out of sight from the Cartiam.

"Here," he said holding out the pillowcase, but Silas didn't take it. Jamar sighed. "What?"

Chapter 29: Silas

"We're friends?" Silas asked with a note of disbelief. "Friends don't let that happen to their friend's sister."

"There was nothing I could do," Jamar said still holding out the pillowcase. "Are you going to escape or not?"

Something told him to let it go, but Silas couldn't. He wiped the rain out of his eyes. "There was nothing you could do? You're a Tirean. You weren't being held by two guards. You weren't tricked into letting them gut your sister. You weren't...." Trapped inside. Silas wanted to scream. He'd done nothing. It was all his fault and he still felt a chill inside. How could he feel this cold when he knew he cared?

"So you don't think we're friends?" Jamar asked his eyebrows lowered and the arm holding a pillowcase dropped.

Silas closed his eyes. "We hung out a few times and we had several small adventures, but being friends is more than that."

"I am looking out for you. I got you out of the Cartiam all by myself. I'm risking everything to do this one thing for you."

"I'm not saying I don't appreciate the risks you took to help me."

"Then what are you saying 'cause it sounds like you don't think I've done enough."

Silas held out his hand. "Maybe if you had protected Malina like you promised. If you'd saved her like I asked," the weight of what had happened started to crush him. He glanced at Malina and she was staring ahead at the road, rain soaking her hair and streamed down her face. Several drops rolled right over her eyes and she didn't even blink to stop them.

"I tried to. But she was ready, she had to be harvested. Besides she's still safe. Look at her, she's happy to be like this."

"Stop it! She doesn't know what she's lost, but I do." Silas ran his fingers through his hair. The stillness inside him hardened as a clamor of anger, frustration and despair tried to claw its way out. He waited a second to let his heart slow down. "This is not the sister I had. You and your father stole her from me and from her. You emptied her of everything she loved. This was what she feared. It was why we tried to escape to keep her from becoming lost and she struggled to keep herself calm every day for me. Everything I worked so hard to avoid has--has swallowed me whole and I may never forgive...." He had failed and he would never be able to forgive himself.

Jamar took a step forward. "I don't care if you forgive me. I don't care if anyone forgives me. You're Car scum. Nobody cares about you or your idiot of a sister."

Silas said nothing. It's not what he meant.

"Here," Jamar said tossing the pillowcase so it spilled out in the mud at Silas' feet. "I put one of her e-mems in there. Maybe you can find a way to stick it back in her empty head."

"You're going to let us go?" Silas raised his chin.

"I said I would save your sister and I did. She's alive so I kept my word. As for you, you saved my life once and this is me returning the favor. Run as far and as fast as you can. I won't say a word all night, but," Jamar stepped closer and stuck his finger in Silas' face. "In the morning, when the first rays of light poke over the horizon, I'll be leading the charge and I promise you this, I will find you. On the day I do you will lose everything you care about and then I will strap you to the Machine and watch the life drain out of your eyes. As of this day I will never care about another Car. Your whole class will suffer under my wrath and it will be your fault."

"Then I will make it my purpose to stop you." For once Silas felt calm. It was too late for him to protect Malina, but he would find a way to protect the others. He wasn't sure how or if he would even know where to start. But one day he wanted all Carillians to be free, he would rescue them from Malina's fate and give them a future.

"If you ever figure out which end of a sword to hold come look me up." Jamar spun on his heels and stomped back to the Cartiam.

"I will." The words were quiet, but Silas meant it. He felt heavy and a new chill crept into his bones. The rain was starting to fall heavier. Jamar broke into a jog and Silas watched him go. When they were alone he stuffed the spilled food back into the pillowcase.

"I'm really am sorry," he said. Malina stared at him as if she'd just met him and it hurt more than Silas thought it would. Her hair was matted to her face and some of it blocked her eyes. He reached over and brushed it away tucking it behind her ear.

"I will do everything I can to keep you safe," Silas promised her. Perhaps Jamar was right. Perhaps he could get her memories and put them back into her mind. The thought gave him the smallest amount of hope that he might one day get his sister back. If there was a way he'd find it.

"Come on." Silas took her hand and they ran into the woods.

Watch for Book Two in this Series

Remembered

Available Summer 2013

About the Author

Christina J. Adams finds inspiration in the green rolling hills and farmland surrounding her home in Maryland. She loves writing and reading books for children and teens and gets so excited about a new book coming out, from any of her many favorite authors, that it's probably not good for her health. She didn't think being a writer was a serious profession until after high school, but has since decided it is the best career ever.

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