Oh, Jackson, Ava thought. What have you done?
Her sweeping gaze caught the awe and anger in Eryn’s eyes, and Ava had to look away.
And what will Eryn do? Ava wondered. What is she capable of?
THIRTY-EIGHT
Nick
Nick kept straining to listen, but he didn’t hear anything resembling the beating of helicopter blades until he stepped back into the cave. And even then he wasn’t sure about the sound—maybe he was just fooling himself; maybe Jackson and Ava had just tricked him; maybe he was just thrown off by finally getting out of the pounding wind.
You can’t trust the wind, he told himself. But you can trust Ava. And she trusts Jackson. So . . .
So he also trusted Eryn, and she didn’t trust Jackson. Or Ava. Or maybe even Nick himself right now. Nick could read that in the defensive way Eryn stood, her back hunched, her arms half raised. She also kept glancing around with narrowed eyes, even now that they were all in the cave and she didn’t have to squint against the wind anymore.
Come on, Eryn, he thought at her. You were the one who said we wouldn’t have to destroy any robots. We pretty much promised each other. We’re going to find some way to get through this without . . . without . . .
He wanted to tell her, without killing anyone. But he also kept thinking, without dying.
“The robots who are coming here . . . what do they want?” Eryn asked. “What do you think they’ll do to us?”
“Nothing to you,” Jackson said, speaking through gritted teeth. He was maneuvering the wheelbarrow over the chains and tumbled rocks, but that seemed effortless. The agony twisting his face had to have another cause. “The officials who run the robot network—they enforce the rules. For them, everything is about restarting human civilization. Sticking to the original plan. So it’s me and Ava and Mom and Dad who are in danger. Because we violate the plan.”
“I’m a robot too,” Lida Mae said. “I really violate the plan. Because—”
Jackson peered at her in befuddlement. He let go of the wheelbarrow and clutched his head.
“No, no, don’t tell me anything else,” he said, reeling his head back. “In case I can’t stop myself and give in to the all-call . . . I wouldn’t want to betray you, too. I don’t want to betray anyone. . . .”
Eryn squinted skeptically at Jackson and Lida Mae, like she thought both of them were lying.
Do I think that? Nick wondered.
Jackson really did seem to be struggling with something inside his head. Why wouldn’t he tell the truth about that? Why would he pretend?
Just because he suddenly gave himself superhuman strength? Nick thought. That gives him less reason to want to fool us. Now that he’s so strong, he could probably kill us without even trying, if he wanted to.
But. Jackson. Isn’t. Going. To. Do. That.
Nick just had to keep telling himself that.
Ava patted Jackson’s arm.
“I think it’s okay if you know about Lida Mae and her family,” she told him. “It’s okay if everyone on the robot network eventually knows. In fact . . .”
Ava shoved her hood back and tilted her head to the side, as if listening. Her face was pale but oddly hopeful.
“The helicopters are still a few miles away,” she announced. “Lida Mae, there’s time for you to take us to your family. They can help protect us. And they can help us plan.”
Lida Mae paused in the middle of shaking snow from her long skirt.
“No,” she said.
“What?” Nick exploded. “Lida Mae, don’t you understand? We need help! Even if Eryn and I aren’t in any danger—even if that’s true—Ava and Jackson are. They aren’t even supposed to exist. And our parents could get in terrible trouble for creating them. Maybe the rest of your family doesn’t even know what’s going on in the outside world, but . . . they know this cave and this nature preserve. Can’t they at least find a place to hide Ava and Jackson and the grown-ups until the robot officials are gone?”
He had an image in his head of him and Eryn meeting the robot officials at the mouth of the cave and spinning some convincing lies: Parents? Stepsiblings? No, we’re out here on our own. It’s a human thing—proving we can survive in the wilderness. You wouldn’t understand. Just leave us alone to be human. And then the robot officials would go away.
Nick and Eryn would be heroes.
“No—Lida Mae, your family has to hide us all,” Eryn said. “And then they can tell the robot officials none of us were ever here.”
Okay, Sis, that’s a better plan, Nick thought. A lot safer than being heroes.
But Lida Mae shook her head, her braids thumping against her shoulders.
“It’s not that my family wouldn’t want to help you,” she said. “They just . . . can’t. But don’t worry. I’ll hide you. I’ll tell the officials . . . whatever you want me to tell them.”
Ava, Jackson, and Eryn all recoiled. Maybe Nick did too. For a moment it felt like all four of them were united. True siblings. Ready to argue as a team.
“That won’t work,” Jackson said.
“Robot officials won’t listen to a kid,” Eryn said. “They wouldn’t listen to Nick and me, and they wouldn’t listen to you, either.”
“Please . . . ,” Nick began.
“I saw your whole family history when I was in the FOR ROBOT ACCESS ONLY room,” Ava told Lida Mae. Then Ava turned to the others. “I saw what her parents are like. Her mom has this gentle, kind face—anyone would believe what she tells you! And her dad’s got these big, broad shoulders, like a lumberjack, and he’s strong and powerful. . . . Both of them look more like humans than any adults I’ve ever seen. And you know the robot officials are programmed to obey adult humans . . . maybe they won’t even know Lida Mae’s parents are robots. Maybe they’ll think—”
“Nobody is allowed to see my parents!” Lida Mae insisted. “None of you are allowed to meet my family!”
Nick expected Ava to back away and maybe whisper, Okay, I’m sorry. We’ll think of a different plan. But Ava took a step closer to Lida Mae. They were practically nose to nose.
“Lida Mae, you don’t get to run things around here anymore,” Ava said, her voice every bit as fierce as Eryn’s had ever been. “This is my family in danger. This is my life we’re talking about. I saw everything your family did, for decades, for centuries. I know they’d want to help us. I know they can. And I know where they live, where they’d stay in a blizzard. You can’t stop us from getting their help! While we still have time!”
Ava spun around and took off running deeper into the cave.
Lida Mae lunged for her. And Nick faced a choice.
Who do I trust? he wondered. Who do I believe? Who should I help?
Nick launched himself from the tips of his snow-numbed toes. And then he tackled Lida Mae, leaving Ava free to keep running.
THIRTY-NINE
Jackson
Jackson grabbed the wheelbarrow full of adults and raced after his sister. Even holding the wheelbarrow sideways, he still caught up with Ava in a single bound.
“Tell me where to go, and I’ll run ahead,” he told her. It didn’t even make him breathe hard to talk and run and carry about seven hundred pounds’ worth of wheelbarrow and parents. It was just a little awkward. He turned the wheelbarrow so at least the wheel touched ground. “I’ll explain what’s going on to Lida Mae’s family. If they have any questions about the outside world, I can answer them.”
The sister Jackson had known all his life would have nodded her head and agreed demurely, Oh yes. Good idea. Get Mom and Dad to safety as fast as you can.
But Ava was different now. She stuck out her chin and insisted, “Lida Mae’s family needs to hear from both of us.”
She kept running. Jackson kept pace beside her, though he itched to run flat out, full speed.
Ava watched him out of the corner of her eye for a moment, then added, “Do you feel okay? Could you hold off the network all-call . . . and run
. . . and not pass out . . . and push two full wheelbarrows?”
“Is that a hypothetical?” Jackson asked. “Are you just trying to distract me?”
Ava took a big gulp of air before answering.
“No,” she said, panting a little. “I know from watching Lida Mae’s family history that there’s a storage area up ahead . . . where they used to keep several wheelbarrows. If . . . they’re still there and . . . we get a second one and . . . all of us kids pile in and . . . you push . . .”
“We’ll get to Lida Mae’s family faster,” Jackson finished for her. He held the wheelbarrow one-handed and flexed the biceps of his other arm. Everything was smooth and effortless. He felt like he could carry tons more. “I think I can do it. It might even be easier. The more I have to concentrate on running and pushing or carrying, the easier it is to hold off the all-call. Because it’s not really my brain they want into. It’s just that I’m hearing the universal call. They don’t even know my brain exists.”
Once, that fact would have distressed him. Now that he had Dad’s thoughts and memories in his own brain, everything had changed.
“Let’s . . . try it,” Ava gasped. “Over . . . there . . .”
She pointed toward the dark rock wall ahead. Jackson put down the wheelbarrow full of parents and took off at top speed. A split second later he zipped back to Ava’s side with a second, empty wheelbarrow in his arms.
“Okay, that was scary fast,” Ava said.
Jackson shrugged modestly just as Nick, Eryn, and Lida Mae caught up to them.
“Jackson can get us there faster than any of us can run on our own,” Ava told the other kids, even as she scrambled into the second wheelbarrow. “That is, if you want to go with us.”
Jackson saw Nick and Eryn exchange glances. He could tell they were thinking, Do we trust him not to hurt us, going that fast? Do we trust him not to trip and fall?
Or maybe they were just thinking, Do we trust him, period? Do we trust him or Ava or any robot?
“That’s the only way we’re all going to get there before the helicopters arrive,” Ava added. “That’s the only way we’ll have enough time.”
“I’m in,” Nick said.
Eryn nodded, though she kept a deep frown on her face.
“Lida Mae?” Jackson asked.
“We’re going to your family regardless,” Ava reminded her. “It’s just whether you’re there with us or not. That’s the choice.”
Jackson really could not figure out this new version of his sister. Maybe she’d changed even more than he had.
Lida Mae winced.
“I reckon I should go, then,” she said. “I reckon you’ll want me to explain. . . .”
She took a step toward the wheelbarrow. Why was this taking so long? Jackson couldn’t stand it anymore. He scooped up Nick, Eryn, and Lida Mae in one arm and shoved them into the wheelbarrow beside Ava. He was careful to have Nick and Eryn land with their backpacks cushioning them, but they still gasped and shrieked.
“Hold on!” Jackson ordered them.
While they scrambled to grab on to the sides, he wedged himself between the two wheelbarrows so he could push one and pull the other. It was awkward and hard to balance, but his muscles felt fine. If he had to, he’d be able to lift either wheelbarrow over any obstacle ahead.
“We’re ready,” Ava said, from the wheelbarrow behind him.
Jackson didn’t even look back to see how they’d arranged themselves. He just clutched the wheelbarrows. And then he took off running as though all their lives depended on it.
They probably did.
FORTY
Eryn
This is crazy, Eryn thought. This is totally nuts.
She clung to the edge of the wheelbarrow, jammed in with Nick, Ava, and Lida Mae. They all lay on their stomachs, side by side, like surfers lined up getting ready to catch some big wave. She couldn’t really tell if Jackson had lifted the wheelbarrow completely, or if he’d left the wheel resting on the ground. Either way, it tilted precariously.
Should I have refused to get in? Eryn wondered. Should I have screamed and run away?
She’d agreed to accept Jackson’s help only because he and Ava had said there was danger. Eryn hadn’t heard any helicopters. She wasn’t capable of sensing any all-call. Why should she trust Ava and Jackson?
Last night Jackson couldn’t even walk by himself without falling over, Eryn thought. And today we’re trusting him to run while pushing, pulling, or carrying four adults and four kids in two wheelbarrows?
Jackson leaned forward, speeding faster. He kept raising the edge of the wheelbarrow higher and higher, and Eryn had to tighten her grip. Her backpack bounced against her neck. Her hair blew straight backward, as if she’d encountered another blizzard-force wind inside the cave.
Okay, it’s true—he can run really fast now, Eryn thought.
That didn’t mean that she trusted him. Or anyone.
Except Nick.
I didn’t agree to go with Jackson because I trust him and Ava, Eryn thought. I agreed because I have to stay with Nick. I have to protect him. Because he does still trust robots.
Jackson was going so fast that that the rush of air past Eryn’s ears was deafening. She could barely hear Ava murmuring to her brother, “Okay, there’s a turn up ahead on the right; then the path narrows a lot and you’ll probably have to slow down. . . .”
Pay attention, Eryn told herself. Make sure you could find your way out of here if you had to.
Jackson whipped around to the right and kept running into thick, seemingly endless darkness. It made Eryn feel like screaming. It made her want to hide her face against the side of the wheelbarrow like a little child crawling under her bedcovers, a little child who believed that as long as she couldn’t see anything bad, nothing bad could hurt her.
Instead, even as Eryn jolted painfully up and down, she took one hand off the edge of the wheelbarrow. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her flashlight. She switched it on and pointed it out into the darkness.
“We need to see where we’re going, even if Ava and Jackson don’t,” she muttered to Nick, holding on beside her.
“Sure,” he muttered back.
The narrow flashlight beam didn’t make Eryn feel any better. It bounced up and down with Jackson’s unbalanced stride, giving the light a strobe effect. In brief glimpses Eryn saw rock walls and striations; she saw rocky shapes that threw off grotesque shadows.
But she also figured out where they were.
“Nick!” she whispered. “We’re headed back toward the room where all the robot babies and kids were!”
“Okay,” Nick whispered back. “If you say so.”
In what seemed like barely a moment, Jackson reached the narrow part of the passage, and he slowed down slightly to thread his way through. Eryn’s heel scraped against the rock wall, and she drew in her legs to huddle even closer to Nick.
Then Jackson was through the passage, and the room opened out again. His pace flagged once more. Eryn shone her flashlight over to the right, letting the beam play over the rows and rows of creepy, motionless robot babies and children.
“Keep going,” Ava called to Jackson. “It’s not much farther now.”
“Please, no,” Lida Mae moaned, from beside Nick. “Please, let me explain first. . . .”
Jackson ignored her and went back to running.
“Lida Mae? Can you tell us . . . ,” Nick began, and Eryn felt a little burst of love for her brother, that even now he was still trying to work things out, still trying to nudge everyone into getting along.
But before Lida Mae could reply, Jackson drew to an abrupt stop.
“This is it,” Ava announced.
Eryn could see nothing out of the ordinary in the rock wall in front of them. She ran her flashlight beam over it. There seemed to be no door, no crack in the rock, not even the tiniest gap or ripple.
“Please . . . ,” Lida Mae moaned.
“Kick it,”
Ava said.
Gingerly, Jackson put down both wheelbarrows and stepped past them. He lifted his leg to about waist height and smashed his shoe against the wall like someone demonstrating a karate move.
Now a door appeared in the wall and creaked back.
Eryn shined her flashlight into the room that appeared beyond the new door. She slid out of the wheelbarrow and peeked past Jackson. The other three kids climbed down as well, as Jackson stepped through the door, pulling the wheelbarrow full of unconscious adults along with him.
For a while Eryn could see nothing but more rock walls on the other side of the door. Then the beam of Erin’s flashlight reflected back at her from what seemed to be a primitive TV—or maybe a computer monitor—mounted in one of the walls.
“Mr. and Mrs. Spencer?” Ava called. “Hello?”
Eryn could hear doubt in Ava’s voice for the first time. Suddenly she didn’t sound so sure that she knew where Lida Mae’s family was—or that they could help.
Eryn kept swinging her flashlight beam around the room. Maybe she was just aiming it too high. Maybe everyone was sitting down. She directed the beam toward the floor, looking for table legs, couch legs, maybe even the curved bottom rails of homemade rocking chairs.
That’s the kind of furniture Lida Mae’s family would sit on, Eryn thought.
She almost missed the pile of what looked like mechanical spare parts on the floor. Then she heard Nick gasp. Lida Mae put her hand over Eryn’s hand on the flashlight, keeping the beam directed at the pile.
Eryn realized that the pile contained a face with one side missing, an arm with the skin peeled back to reveal levers and gears, a headless torso encased in a shredded shirt.
“That’s what’s left of my family!” Lida Mae cried out. “Now do you see now why I said they couldn’t help you?”