“Thank you for showing them to me, Grannie. I will never forget them.”

  She considers me. “No, I don’t believe you will,” she says and brushes my cheek with her warm, clever hand.

  Then we step away from the building and head back to camp, quiet all the way. Grannie has shown me something important, but it will take me time to decide what that is exactly.

  Courage? Love? Or what it once meant to be a family?

  In the past few days, I have seen both ends of life. First a birth. And now death, taken place tonight and long ago. We are born, we must die, and somehow we live out our time between. I suddenly realize that the children of Oculum have been given time, much more time than the dead that Grannie has just shown me.

  But who gave it to us? And why?

  Mannfred

  The unruly been crazy since Elias brought the terrible rocket.

  They think it’s a precious thing. They can’t stop saying how the rocket will win them the green valley in the north and the castle of MedFell Hall.

  It’s like they all lost their minds.

  Everyone runs beside the rocket on the truck, reaching up to touch it. They got rocks and sticks and chains to guard it, though I don’t see what from. Georgas sits in the cage at the back of the truck, hands tied, head bowed. He don’t make a sound.

  Cranker and me carry packs, Liam too. But Liam keeps falling behind, which makes these people meaner, and they shove him along. Cranker and me been whispering about what to do. We can’t to speak to Georgas. Cranker almost got clubbed when he tried. Georgas is guarded, just like the rocket.

  Liam said something smart. “You have to wait for your chance, because it will come.”

  So we wait and march. It’s been raining on and off, too, so what was dust is turning to mud.

  Elias sits on the truck, and everyone waves up to him. He’s like someone special and strong to them. But he’s not those things. He took Grannie’s gun, stole this rocket, and keeps a man locked in a cage, the worst thing I ever seen.

  Last night, I sat with a few men and women around a fire.

  “The rocket is going to win us the green valley in the north!” one man says.

  “Elias is going to use the rocket to win the castle of MedFell Hall!” a woman adds.

  “Where did he get it, the rocket?” I ask, all innocent. I’m a spy, after all. I should ask these things.

  The man and woman look at me, but I’m the boy who brings FatRats. I’m no threat, not that they know, anyway. The man shrugs and says, “There’s a special place full of weapons, at the edge of the City. Lots of weapons and bombs.”

  “What kind of place?” I ask.

  The man frowns, but the woman tells me. She lowers her voice, “It’s called ‘E.C.H.O. Technology Systems’!” She says this slow and careful, like it took a long time for her to learn the words right.

  I got no idea what these things mean. Technology? Systems?

  I nod. I say, “Oh,” like I agree it’s a special thing.

  “What’s E.C.H.O. though?” I try to look like a boy from the country who don’t know much. Not a spy.

  The man and woman look at each other and laugh.

  “What? Are you simple, boy?” the man says. “It’s the greatest power of the last age! It will make us rich! Bring back the days of the Olden Begones!”

  A man on the other side of the fire speaks up. “It won’t bring back the days of the Olden Begones, nothing can,” he says. “I don’t think we want that anyway. The Olden Begones ruined things, and now they’re gone. Why would we want to be like them?”

  The two beside me start to laugh and tease the man. They say things like, “Are you scared of E.C.H.O.?” and “Don’t you like the rocket?” and more besides.

  I go to find Cranker and lay out my sleeping roll for the night. We whisper again about how to save Georgas and get us all out of here. But there’s no way that we can see.

  And now there’s a new problem. In the last few days, some of the UnRuly been getting sick.

  I know one thing: no one wants to get sick with the UnRuly. Elias just leaves them behind, marching us all north. It’s pitiful to see them, falling farther and farther behind on the road.

  Liam asks us if we know what is making people ill. Me and Cranker both nod.

  “Most likely it’s Dying Fever,” I say. We tell him what we know, which is little.

  “It’s fever, coughing. People either live or they don’t,” Cranker tells him.

  “Grannie nursed some of our Littluns through it,” I add. “But it’s bad for some people.”

  Liam listens to us, then he does a surprising thing. When we all stop for a short rest, he starts to tend to the sick. Most of the men and women laugh at him for it.

  “Why you helping them?” one man spits at him. “If they can’t keep up, just leave them!”

  Liam is shocked by this and shakes his head. He leans down to help a man lying on the ground. He offers the man a drink of water. Me and Cranker can see that Liam is careful, knows things about healing. Like Grannie.

  “Medicus taught us about illness. The fevers. The sick need water and rest,” he says to us.

  A woman calls out. Liam goes to her, gives her sips of water. He wets a rag and holds it against her burning forehead.

  That’s when Elias comes over with Bragg, watching.

  “What you doing, laundry girl?” Bragg asks, and the people laugh.

  But Liam puts his hands on his hips, squares his shoulders. Who is this boy?

  “I’m tending to your sick. Someone has to.” He turns to Elias. “You need to let me take care of these people. I need a covered wagon with blankets. They can’t sleep on the ground. And I need fresh water and food.”

  Elias smirks, but he’s curious. “You a healer?” he asks.

  Liam shrugs. “I guess I’m the closest you’re going to get. I can take care of sick people if that’s what you mean. I can set bones, help a sprain, put in stitches if I have to, although I’ve never done it. Pull a tooth. Properly tend a fever.”

  Bragg moves forward and shoves Liam, who staggers backward into my arms.

  “Shut it, laundry girl. You lie,” he sneers. I step up.

  “No, it’s true. Liam knows all those things and more. He can help the sick,” I say.

  Bragg spits in the mud. But Elias eyes me, then claps Liam on the shoulder.

  “Take care of them then, laundry girl. Anyone dies, you’re next,” he says. Grannie’s gun shines bright on his belt. I think he means it. Liam looks at him, holds his gaze. He shrugs Elias’s hand off his shoulder and goes back to look after the sick people.

  Liam can’t carry a heavy pack for long, and until now he’s been no good at standing up for himself. But he’s tender with the sick and more than brave enough to stand up for them. I watch him tend the sick for a few minutes.

  “You’re a good healer, Liam. You remind me of Grannie,” I say. “But you can catch the fever too.”

  Liam shakes his head. “No, the children of Oculum can’t catch it. The Medicus told us all the time: we are immune to illness.”

  “What’s that? Immune?” Cranker says.

  Liam sighs. “I’m not sure why, but it means you can’t catch something. Medicus was going to tell us more but never did. You might be immune too.”

  I shrug, but maybe he’s right. Cranker and me been around enough sick people, and we never got sick. All but three of our Littluns died of fever, and we didn’t.

  It starts to rain again, and Elias finds me and Cranker.

  “Go get that covered wagon, help that laundry girl healer friend of yours,” he says, pointing at a mule standing beside a covered wagon. So we lead the mule and the wagon to Liam. He’s kneeling in the rain next to two sick women.

  “Wagon for you, healer,” Cranker says when we reach him.

  “For the sick, Elias said,” I add. I sometimes wonder if people think me and Cranker are simple. One of us only gets half the story out, while the other finishes it. Liam sees we mean to help. People lie on the ground at his feet.

  “I need water, blankets, food. See what you can find,” he says, taking the mule by the reins and speaking soft to it. We help him lift a few women out of the muck and into the wagon. They seem relieved and say thankee, too. First time any UnRuly thanked us for anything.

  There’s room for maybe twelve or so in the wagon, with benches to sit or for the sickest to lie down.

  Then we get what Liam needs. We beg a barrel from one of the cooks and fill it with fresh water from a stream. I miss our pump back in the village; water came out so easy. We roll the water barrel back to Liam’s healer wagon. He dips a wooden cup into it, drips water over fevered lips.

  I beg food from a girl who keeps smiling at me for some reason. I smile back which just makes her smile more, so I ask and she gives me a few loaves of black bread and a few greens too. Cranker makes a deal with a woman: a few blankets now for FatRats on the rest of the journey.

  “What’s a few more FatRats to us?” Cranker says when I ask him. Sometimes I think Cranker is growing to be a kind man.

  Liam tears the blankets in two; more to go around, he says. His sick folks are already looking a little better, out of the mud, sipping water, resting and warm under a blanket.

  “I need more water, to keep my hands clean,” Liam says. So I go back and get a big wooden jug of water (no one wants to spare another barrel). When he got all he needs, Liam looks pleased to be helping the sick, though he’s been treated so poor by these people.

  He hangs a sheet over the side of the wagon, painted with charcoal from the fire: a circle and a letter “M” inside it.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Medicus wagon,” he says, too busy to look up.

  Liam even asked if he could tend to Georgas, but Elias just laughed. So Georgas got to suffer more before we can do much for him. When we see our chance, whenever that might be.

  The next day, the rain slows so we march north again but slower since the mud is deep in places.

  So far, Liam keeps the sick people alive. Some people even get better and already left the care of Medicus Liam. Water, rest, and food work for most.

  Elias been watching all this with a keen eye. When we all stop for a midday meal, he comes down off the truck. He strides back to us.

  “Anyone dead yet, laundry girl?” he asks.

  “My name is Liam. And no. Some of your people got better, actually.”

  Elias raises his eyebrows. “Better hope there’s more,” he says, gruff. But there’s something in his voice. He’s surprised, I think. And looks at Liam different.

  Bragg don’t like it, though, and bullies Liam if no one is watching.

  I caught Bragg throwing mud at him. He aimed a huge wad as Liam helped a woman to the Medicus wagon. I grabbed Bragg’s arm, shook the mud out of his hand.

  “Elias said no one bothers Liam. You heard him. Liam’s saving people, Bragg,” I say.

  Bragg spits at my feet and runs off. That boy got problems.

  Next day, we march again, just slower still. I look over at the muddy man tied in the cage behind the rocket. It breaks my heart I can’t talk to Georgas and let him know we’re there to help.

  That we’re boys sent by Grannie to rescue him.

  But what made us think we could spy on the UnRuly and report back to Grannie and the Shiny Man? Or that we could rescue Georgas? Other than shooting FatRats, me and Cranker done little. Not spies. Not rescuers.

  So far, Liam’s the only one been any help at all.

  Echo1

  I stand on top of a pile of garbage.

  I look in the direction of the dome, but everything is ruined.

  The Oculum4 dome has collapsed.

  Guide, what would take down the dome? I ask.

  Guide says, I can’t imagine. They were built to stand for a thousand years.

  I scan the mess. There is the broken glass of the dome folded upon itself, jagged, sticking up in places, or leaning against some of the buildings that did not fall.

  The Oculum4 Senate is still there with dome glass leaning against it. The enormous Oculum4 Arm sticks up from the Senate, but it is broken and snapped in half.

  I scan the destruction.

  Then slowly, I search for heartbeats in the mighty ruin. I send out my sensitive hearing …

  … there are no heartbeats.

  I search for decay and dust, but there are no remains of children either.

  So no children, then? Where can they be?

  Echo1, P1 has sent you video. Do you accept?

  Yes, I accept.

  Peregrine has sent me a video of a man made of garbage, standing in the rubbish heap. He stands very tall, although not as tall as me, and has words upon his crowned head: KING WILLIAM1.

  I tromp over the piles of cars and buses to find King William1.

  I find this king standing in the garbage and approach it. I bend and look closely at this false man of rubble. He stands in the wasteland, even after the collapse of the dome. Whoever made him chose a sturdy spot.

  Who is King William1?

  Or what?

  Guide says, There were many kings, thousands. They were a kind of ruler.

  But I think I understand: King William1 is a joke, a king of garbage. A king of nothing. But William1 is interesting. A child of Oculum, the first William. Did he build this king to mark his way? And if so, where is the living William1 now?

  I cannot know.

  I climb down past the king made of rubble and walk through the broken machines, cars, and buses. I take a step onto the glass of the broken dome. I test it. It gives slightly under my weight but holds. If I am careful, this glass pile could hold me.

  Or maybe it will not.

  Guide says, This isn’t safe. You have to go slowly, Echo1. You could get stuck, or everything could collapse on you. You could die here.

  Yes, thank you, Guide, I say. Die? Perhaps. But I live through choice and action, remember? I choose to do this. Peregrine, please fly overhead and show me where to put my feet, I add.

  Guide says no more.

  So Peregrine flies close to me and sends me video of the way ahead through the destroyed dome. The Oculum4 Senate still stands, holding up pieces of dome around it. Perhaps it holds a clue about the children. I crunch my way through glass toward it. Suddenly, there is movement deep below me, beneath the broken sheets of glass.

  I stop and look down.

  Far below me, I see a Mother.

  She faces a Sentry. Her arm moves slowly back and forth. I can see them clearly through the glass below my feet. I scan and see more Mothers, more Sentries, moving slowly below me. They are pinned by the glass and damaged, but still moving.

  What happened here?

  Guide offers a suggestion: A battle? They look like they’re struggling — fighting, maybe.

  Beneath the fallen dome, the Mothers and Sentries are locked together. Each has an arm deep into the other’s chest. A few Mothers move, still rotating a wheel or flexing an arm. A few Sentries twitch as well, moving a head, a hand, an eye.

  I find it disturbing.

  Guide says, Most of them are very damaged, but they’re not all dead.

  Yes, Guide. I see that they are not all dead.

  I watch for a while.

  It’s like watching them below you, under water, Guide says. Or from a long way away.

  But I do not answer.

  I am learning that sometimes nothing needs to be said.

  Such beautiful machines pinned below the glass, twitching and moving as they would in life. They will stop working in a while; their solar batteries cannot last forever, and most lie in darkness.

  But truly, they were very well built. A machine for the ages.

  I cannot watch them any longer, the dying machines. They are like Echo. We will all end with a slow, final twitch one day. It occurs to me: if we can die, then we must also live. A thought for later.

  Where are the children?

  I walk toward the Oculum4 Senate and crush dome glass beneath me with each step. I get stuck a few times as the glass cannot always support my weight, but Peregrine helps to lead me safely through. This is nothing like walking across sand, or a highway, or a broken city.

  I reach the Senate. I pull fallen dome glass off the Senate door and step inside. The floor is covered with hundreds of Mothers and Sentries. Most have destroyed each other; crushed mechanical hearts lie among them. Many are dead. But some are still in the process of dying. They slowly shake an arm, a wheel, not quite destroyed but neither are they whole.

  I move among them.

  There is a quiet whirring sound as the Mothers and Sentries move in their slow fade. I stand for a moment in the middle of the machines. I am full of sunshine and power, in full control. These creatures are weak, near the end. They fill me with pity.

  The great Oculum Arm is broken above me. I step past the dying Mothers and Sentries to look into the Seed Vault when …

  “Stop.”

  A voice!

  I spin around, and there stands a Mother.

  She has not been crushed or had her heart ripped from her by a Sentry. How long has she stood here, the solitary survivor of this place?

  “I am a friend, Mother,” I say out loud.

  She has a green armband with silver lettering on her upper arm: “J47.”

  Guide says, She is Mother of Jake47. The 47th boy woken in the year of the Jakes and Janes.

  I correct myself. “I am a friend, Mother of Jake47.”

  She slowly turns toward me, very shaky. Clearly, she has not had enough sunlight to charge her battery fully in many weeks.

  “A friend? I do not know you. Are you sure you are a friend?” Mother of Jake47 asks.

  I am twice as big as this Mother and healthy, full of sunlight. But she is defending her world, even though it has fallen to pieces around her. Even though she is the last of her kind.

 

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