“Solar panels,” said Xochi simply. “That’s what we use.”
“And it’s probably sufficient for your needs,” said Samm. “The nuclear plant in Indian Point used to power hundreds of millions of homes before the war — now that there’s not much more than a million of us left, it generates more than enough for anything we could ever need. The rebels maintain it. D Company found a way to tap into it a few years ago, and they still haven’t noticed.”
“But nuclear power is dangerous,” said Xochi. “What if something happens? What if it leaks or melts down or whatever?”
“A lot of them did,” said Samm. “When RM hit and the humans started dying — when you really started to disappear, and we knew there was nothing we could do to stop it — we found as many nuclear plants as we could and then shut them down safely. There’s another one in Connecticut, just sixty miles away from you guys across the sound.” He pointed to the northeast. “If that had gone into meltdown, you’d probably all be dead.”
“Right,” said Jayden derisively. “The noble Partials trying to save mankind.”
Samm nodded. “Haven’t you ever wondered why the world isn’t more messed up than it is? Why the cities aren’t burning, why the air isn’t black with nuclear fallout? You died too quickly — some of you had time to shut off the power plants and the factories before you disappeared, but not everyone, and all it takes is one unattended reactor to cause a lethal meltdown. Even when we realized what was happening, we couldn’t shut them all down; we lost one in New Jersey, and another in Philadelphia, and more and more as you move west across the continent. That’s why we tend to stay east of the Hudson. Other parts of the world had even more reactors than we did, but without an army of Partials to step in and stop them, we think a lot more of them may have gone critical. Maybe as many as half.”
Nobody spoke. The coughing buzz of the motor filled the boat.
“The question about what to do with you is what eventually split us apart,” Samm continued softly. “Some wanted to just finish you off, but most of us, like I said, wanted to save you. Even then, we couldn’t agree on the best way to do it. The arguments grew … heated. To say the least. And then the first wave of our leaders started dying, and it all fell apart. D Company is practically all that’s left of the truly obedient Partials — the only ones with a direct link to the Trust.”
“And what’s the Trust?” asked Kira.
“The senior command,” said Samm, “the generals of the Partial army, and probably from advanced genetic templates, because none of them have died. Well — none of them have died from an inherent expiration date. There were eight of them, men and women, but I think the rebels may have killed two, or at least captured them.” His voice changed as he said this, and his expression grew dark. “It was the Trust that told D Company where to make our base, and when to approach the humans.”
“I’m getting the impression that D Company is relatively small,” said Marcus. “That’s wonderful — we finally form an alliance, and it’s with a persecuted splinter group just as messed up as we are. This’ll make the rest of the Partials even more determined to kill us.”
The engine died again, and this time no amount of yanking and beating and swearing could get it running again. Samm and Marcus took the first turn at the oars, pulling hard toward the shore, and soon the green line became dotted with white: a wide harbor filled with boats. They reached the first line in just half an hour: large yachts anchored far from shore, covered stem to stern with seagull droppings. Kira wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“I was hoping to trade up for a new boat, but these are unusable.”
“They’re too big anyway,” said Samm, stowing his oars as their boat bumped gently against the stained hull of another. “We can’t row them, and I assume none of us knows how to sail.” They shook their heads. “At the very least we can stop and look for supplies.”
“Okay,” said Kira, “but not this one. I don’t want us getting … bird flu, or bird diarrhea, or whatever that stuff will give you.”
Samm nodded.
They rowed to the next boat, then the next, working their way farther into the harbor until finally finding a yacht that looked clean enough to board — still filthy, but not as bad, and their options were running out. They maneuvered around to the back, where the name
“The rest of you wait here,” said Samm. He climbed over and descended into the depths of the yacht, and Marcus leaned close to Kira.
“What do you think?” he whispered. “Do you still trust him?”
“He hasn’t done anything to change my mind,” said Kira.
“Not directly, no,” said Marcus, “but that story was… I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in.”
“At least it’s plausible,” said Jayden. “We’ve always wondered why the Partials turned around and left eleven years ago, and why they’ve never attacked us since. If they’re too busy fighting one another to bother with us, that makes a little more sense.”
“I’m still suspicious,” said Marcus. “Something about this place doesn’t feel right.”
Samm emerged with an armload of objects from the yacht. “Bad news,” he said. “According to the boat’s harbor papers, we’re in Echo Bay, not Mamaroneck, which means we’ve gone a lot farther west than I thought. There’s a map here that should help us get back on track.” He handed the items down to Kira, who took them carefully into their boat: a map, a pair of binoculars, a deck of cards, and a pile of clothes and blankets. “I haven’t had a change of clothes since you captured me,” said Samm, stripping off his rumpled uniform. “Plus this yacht is filthy.” Kira couldn’t help but stare at his chest and arms, more chiseled than she would have expected after two weeks of being tied to a chair. She looked away after a second, feeling foolish, while Samm stripped down to his underwear and dove into the water. Marcus glanced at Kira, giving her his
Kira unfolded the map, searching the sound for Echo Bay. “You’re right,” she said. “This is a lot farther west than I thought. Where is D Company?”
Samm looked over her shoulder, pointing at a spot along the coast. “Greenwich; like you, we built our city around a hospital. Looks like it’s about twelve, thirteen miles away.”
“That’s not bad,” said Jayden.
“It’s not,” said Samm, “but that route goes through rebel territory, here.” He pointed at a spot about halfway along. “We could search for another boat and try to skirt the coast, but I don’t recommend it. Our engine barely made it here, and I think there’s a storm coming.”
“I don’t exactly want to travel through enemy territory, though,” said Kira. “We won’t be able to hide, thanks to your link — as soon as they get close, they’ll know exactly where you are.”
“Also true.” Samm nodded.
“We’ve still got gas,” said Jayden, checking the engine. “That means the problem’s with the motor itself.”
“Then let’s find a new boat,” said Kira. “The longer we can go before walking, the better. Our nine-mile run last night almost killed us.”
They rowed through the harbor, searching for a boat they could handle, and finally found one docked on the side of a much larger yacht — a lifeboat, maybe, or a backup designed for emergencies. Samm climbed aboard, peeled off the cracking canvas cover, and fired up the motor. It started on the fourth try and purred much more evenly than their first boat. He and Marcus and Jayden managed to unhook it from the yacht and dump it into the water, and then the five travelers transferred their gear from one boat to the next. It was much smaller — a rowboat with a motor, not the fancy motorboat they’d been riding in thus far — but it held them, and the engine worked, and Marcus steered them back out of the harbor and north toward D Company.
“Farther out from the shore,” said Samm. Marcus steered away from land, deeper into the sound, and Samm watched the shore with nervous eyes. “Farther.”
“Too much farther and we can’t see the shore at all anymore,” said Marcus. “We’ll get lost again.”
“I can see the shore just fine,” said Samm. “Which means anyone on the shore can see us. Go farther.”
