back down beside me with a frown.
âI wanted that,â he said.
âWhy?â
âSo I could sit on it and fly away.â
âFly away to where?â
âI donât know. Someplace safe.â His voice had a soft, pensive tone.
I pictured him like the Little Prince from my motherâs stories, flying to different lands, searching. The Little Prince didnât have a name. And we didnât know the name of this boy.
âYou donât need a butterfly. Weâll keep you safe. My name is Emmeline. This is David and this is Elsa.â I bounced Elsa up and down and she giggled. âWhatâs your name?â
âMy name is Micah, but mostly the Caretakers just called me âstupid.âââ
They called this child stupid? No wonder the children didnât thrive. âDid you say Michael? Is your name Michael?â
He smiled, a crooked, lopsided little grin, and I noticed a dimple on his right cheek just like mine. âMicah. Not Michael.â
âShh,â David whispered, his head cocked to the side. Then I heard what he heard. It was the deep gravelly voices of men, two of them, it seemed. Their voices carried all the way to the pine tree.
âThey must have crossed the stream,â the first voice said. âNo telling where they are. Letâs report back. There will be hell to pay.â
âFor sure,â said voice number two. âBut for who? Hell for them escaping or hell for us if we donât catch them?â
There was a pause.
âDo you think theyâre all together? His parents and his partner and the two kids?â
âNo way of knowing. Think weâll be in trouble for not finding any of them?â
âHell, they canât blame us.â It was the first voice again. âWeâre not trained for the Human Free Zone. Thatâs the Earth Protectorsâ job. This isnât in my job description.â
âJust saying they canât blame us doesnât mean they wonât. You know that. Bet theyâve already requisitioned Earth Protectors from the agency.â
David stared at me, eyes wide and mouth open. I wanted to reach out and touch his face, but I was frozen, couldnât move.
âTheyâll find them all soon enough.â
âAt least one of them is hurtâgiven the blood we saw back there on a rock.â
âThatâll slow them down. Weâll report that. Maybe hell is already being paid.â One of them laughed.
David turned white, his lips pinched together in a thin, straight line. He didnât look at me.
âAuthorities will use them as examples. Punish them. Let everyone see . . .â
âRecycling is too good for them. Too easy, too fast. They need to suffer first.â
They were walking away from us, their voices fading away. But I could still hear their shoes on the leaves, a faint crunching sound. We sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. A tiny black ant walked up my arm. I made no effort to brush it away. Finally, the only sounds were those of running water, the wilderness around us, and our own pounding hearts and shallow breathing.
âMy parents! They got out. They must be searching for us. Do you think theyâll find us?â David looked at me as though he expected me to know the answer.
âI hope so. I hope theyâre safe. I hope we find each other.â
Hope . Such a tiny word with such outsized meaning.
I shuddered thinking of the fire, the chaos, and the gunshots. I held Elsa closer to me; Micah moved closer to David. David wrapped his arm around Micahâs shoulders, tilting the frail child close to his own strong chest, and bent his head down, his dark hair near the blondness of Micahâs. The brief moment of joy with the flowers and the feather had been crushed under the sounds of those footsteps, those voices.
I knew those men were our enemies, but they, like everyone else in the Republic,