Chapter 2

I didn’t know how long I’d been sobbing, sitting in the sand, my arms wrapped around my shins, my face pressed against my knees. A new sound broke through the barrier of sorrow I’d enclosed myself in.

Even before I identified the sound, I felt the rain pelting. It was a heavier rain than I’d ever seen at home. The shoreline, just ten yards away, was nearly invisible.

I cried harder, still more miserable, until a more important thought broke through: that’s water! Water I can drink!

I looked up and opened my mouth. I put my hands over my eyes—it was raining so hard that it hurt my eyelids. I tilted my head forward just enough to stop the water from streaming into my nose, then I swallowed as quickly as the water filled my mouth.

Soon I felt almost euphoric, my most desperate need fulfilled. I looked around. I needed to get under those trees.

I took a step toward the trees, and stopped. I was able to think again, and a question had been nagging at the back of my mind: what was Andrew getting out of this? He wasn’t in the van, and couldn’t have been in the boat that had brought me here ... I realized now that the swaying I’d felt during the second half of the trip was that of a boat on the water. It took me an entire day to get here. Andrew couldn’t have just abandoned his job and Dad in the hospital that long without raising suspicions. He has to have stayed in town, and spent time with Dad. How can he even be sure I’m here now?

I looked all around for what I knew must be there ... there! About twenty feet from me, propped almost invisible against a rock. In small steps limited by the hobble chain, I moved to the object, picked it up. I nodded to myself. Satellite phone. Able to work here where a cell phone wouldn’t. Its camera aimed directly at the place I had first awakened.

I laughed suddenly. That idiot! He wanted so much to see me wake up here, to see my first reaction when I realized where I was, that he left me a communication device! I can call for help with this!

I didn’t want the phone to get any more wet than it already was, so I turned and took a first running step toward the bluff, behind which the trees towered. In mid-step my stride was cut short by the hobble chain and I sprawled on the sand. Getting up again and walking more carefully, I climbed over the three-foot erosion barrier and scuttled under the nearest trees.

It didn’t help much. The rain, though slowed by striking against leaves on its way down, still had to reach the ground eventually. Anywhere I stood I was showered by several mini-waterfalls. It was just as wet as out in the open.

Sighing, I examined the phone. It had a normal-looking keypad. I wasn’t sufficiently familiar with this type of phone to know whether I could reach an ordinary phone with it, but I needed to talk to someone, somewhere.

I tentatively touched one of the keys, and jerked my finger back. I’d felt a mild shock, more surprising than painful. Seconds later, I smelled a strong stink of burning insulation. No! I thought. NO!!

The power light, illuminated before, was out. The small display screen had gone dead. There was smoke curling out of a small hole in the side of the phone. I tried pressing keys again for several minutes, but it was obvious the thing was wrecked. It had been tricked up to self-destruct if anyone tried to use it.

Furrious, I heaved the phone as far as I could, and watched it splash into the surf. Andrew has what he wanted. He has video of me waking up on Purity Island. He can happily fantasize everything that happens after.

I remembered that family dinner well. Dad was trying to create a homey family life. So once a week we dined together and talked about ... stuff. I was searching for a topic of conversation to interrupt the bonding going on between Dad and Andrew—boring business talk. I’d launched into my current subject of fascination, the plight of the slaves on Purity Island, and the school report I’d just finished typing about it.

Andrew was rarely interested in anything I had to say, but he listened closely as I described the naked, chained slaves on the island. He practically glowed when I related the story of Linsay Parton, the college student trapped and abandoned to a lifetime of slavery.

“She probably spent twenty years there, you said?” Andrew’s eyes were wide.

I nodded. “Of course, the farmers don’t keep records about how long they’ve kept any one slave, but the sociologists have seen the sublings in the places where they’re converted, and they look about thirty-five or so. Same age they’d be snuffed here. It’s possible all the hard work might make them look prematurely older.”

Andrew laughed. “That is so cool! Not exactly what she expected when she signed up for the trip, was it?”

I slapped my fork down on the table. “It is not cool. She had her whole life in front of her and it got taken away from her!”

Andrew laughed again. “Sounds like she had just as long a life there.”

I knew my face was red. My fists were clenching. “She was going to be a teacher! She lost everything she was working for!”

Andrew just grinned. “Did they say if she was really cute?”

I stood abruptly, my chair skidding back behind me. “Dad, may I be excused?” Without waiting for a reply, I stalked off to my room.

Andrew must have realized he could never keep me with him in that dungeon. Too dangerous. With everybody out looking for the first-ever stolen Noosemeister, he had to know they’d figure it out sometime. So he switched to plan B. Another long-time fantasy of his, one that entailed no danger to him but just as much satisfaction. He knows I’m here. He got to see me wake up, got to see my reaction when I realized where I was. Permanently recorded on video he’ll watch many times, no doubt. From now on he can just imagine my day-to-day life. He’ll go to work in the mornings with a smile on his face, go to bed at night with that same smile.

I wondered for a moment why Andrew hadn’t just arranged to hand me over to the first available farmers on the island. But I answered the question for myself. He wants me to go through the terror first. The fretting about how long I can stay free. The fear of what will happen when I finally get caught.

A sudden insight told me why I had those three links of chain hanging down from my collar. I smiled bitterly. An artistic touch, I admitted to myself. It looks like I was secured by the chain and it broke, and that’s how I got away. I’m not just an available subling. I’ve already got the metal cuffs, the collar, the hobble chain. I’m sure they’re authentic, from the same company that supplies them to the island. To all appearances, I’m not a newcomer, I’m an escaped slave. I’d read about the punishment for escaping. Or for major insubordination, or any other “crime.” Not execution and conversion. Slaves are too valuable to throw away before they’re used up. Instead, the punishment would involve a lot of pain.

A chill swept through my body; I squatted and folded my arms across my chest, shivering. It was still quite warm despite the rain. The chill was purely internal. I can’t possibly get home on my own. There’s two hundred miles of water between here and there. Nobody who wants to find me, or even wishes me well, has any idea where I am, and there’s no reason they would ever think to look here. The only people here who have the power to affect my fate are going to force me into a lifetime of misery on sight.

And the slave tracker was useless here. Its signal could be picked up by any of the receiving towers around the city—but only if the slave was within fifty miles of one. I was far out of range of any tower in the network.

This is worse than anything I imagined Andrew doing to me. And I don’t think he even hates me, not really. It’s not about that. It’s all just a game to him, to play with my future. A game of wrecking my life. And he’s won.

No!! I screamed to myself. Damn it, no! He hasn’t won yet. I won’t let him!

Wait! I thought suddenly. Traders! From the mainland! They come here! I had no idea how often, but I knew they came to the small towns along the eastern shore. If I could hide out until I saw a trade ship, I could rush out of cover and beg them for help...

No. They’d probably take me as a slave of their own. A shipboard slave. Kept in chains belowdecks, for sex, not work.

But they’d know what a Noosemeister is! I can identify myself, and even if they haven’t heard of me, they’ll know I’m more valuable to them than any ordinary slave. They’d know there’s a big reward involved in returning me, and I can promise to put on a free, non-fatal show for them after they take me back. A private party, including bedroom service. Yes!! That will work! If they can have the sex and the money too, they’ll know they’re better off turning me in.

I am on the east side, right

The roller coaster of my emotions hit a downslope again. Even though taking me to the far side of the island would have required the boat to go dozens of miles out of its way, I was sure Andrew had insisted on that. There would be the entire width of the island, including a small mountain range, between me and help. The sky was overcast; I had no idea where the sun was, had no way to distinguish east from west. But I felt strongly I must be on the west side. The wrong side.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get off the roller coaster. Worry about that later. First, I have to eat.

The ground beneath my feet was partly bare, partly covered with an ivy-like growth, and mostly covered in puddles and tiny running streamlets. I began walking slowly through the trees parallel to the shoreline. I had to keep my feet high to keep the hobble chain from dragging through the ivy and tripping me, and I stepped across puddles whenever the chain allowed me. Every few steps I paused to listen for intelligent sounds, checked for any signs of a trading town or other settlement.

As I walked, I felt the weight of my cuffs and collar and heard the clinking of my chains and padlocks. That’s good, I decided tentatively. It keeps reminding me. I don’t want to forget the situation and let my guard down.

Perhaps half an hour into my walk, I heard the sound of rushing water, different from the noise of the waves. Looking ahead through the trees, I saw a river across my path.

My shoulders slumped. I can’t cross that. The river was about thirty feet wide. There was no way to tell how deep it was, but probably anything more than knee deep would sweep me out into the ocean. I wasn’t sure I could swim with all that hardware.

I hated the idea of turning back, and knew I’d soon run across another river either way.

The sky was lightening over the ocean. I sighed. At least maybe I’ll be out of this rain before long.

Then I realized. I’m not on the mainland,, I’m on a small island! Continental rivers might be hundreds, even thousands of miles long, carrying the water from all of the many storms constantly dumping water into their drainage valleys. But no river here could possibly be longer than about ten miles. As soon as it stops raining on the island, the river will drain out within hours!

I was hungry and reluctant to wait out the storm. But I couldn’t see any other choice.

I took the opportunity to pee. At least I didn’t have to lie in it for hours afterward, like in that box. I peed on the ground. I hope I don’t get so much into this habit that I just spontaneously pee wherever I’m standing when I get back home.

I moved a few paces away from the puddle of urine, and sat on the soggy ground, my back against a tree.

I felt a stone underneath me and moved a few inches over. I picked it up and looked idly at it. I gasped as I saw I’d misidentified it. It was a nutshell! About an inch and a half in diameter, with an equatorial ridge, looking a lot like a walnut. There were dozens on the ground around me, and more hanging from the tree above. I’ve probably been ignoring hundreds of these as I walked.

I tried cracking the shell with my thumbs, then my teeth. I set it on a stone and smacked it with my wrist cuff. No luck. Then I grabbed a fist-sized rock and pounded the shell with it. Success. I fumbled with the gnarled nut and slapped it into my mouth as I reached out for another nut with my other hand.

I lost count of how many I ate, and ended up sitting back at last with a sigh in a litter of cracked shells. I can eat here! There would also be peaches somewhere, one of the island’s main exports, but those would be nearer to habitations. But these nuts, they’re probably everywhere.

The rain had stopped while I was eating, and patches of blue sky showed through puffy, gray-white clouds over the ocean. The river was still rushing by in front of me, but it wouldn’t block me much longer.

The air was quickly warming again, and sweat was beginning to mix with rainwater on my skin. At last the sun shone through a break in the cloud cover. I bit my lip, trying to decide what its position was telling me. I decided it was now late morning, the sun nearly overhead. I’d have to wait longer to determine which way it was going.

An idea occurred to me, I reached out and grabbed a nearby stick, and thrust it upright into the dirt. I scraped away the ivy over the stick’s abbreviated shadow, and scraped a mark in the mud at the end of the stick’s shadow.

Minutes later, the shadow end had moved toward me, away from the ocean. I closed my eyes, sighed, and gritted my teeth. I knew it, I moaned. I’m on the west side of the island. I might as well have just assumed that to start with. Andrew wanted the whole width of the island, and more to the point, the whole dangerous population of the island, between me and even a small chance of escape.

I stood and looked inland. There was nothing to be seen other than trees. No way to tell how far away the island’s central ridge was. My memory said about eight miles away. Normally I might have walked there in a couple of hours, but travelling, in small, careful steps like this, it would take more like twelve hours. Not something I could finish today. I’d have to spend the night in the middle of this forest.

And all that time was just to get to the halfway point. Under the best of circumstances, I’d need two days, maybe three, to get across to the eastern shore.

And there are a lot more people in the eastern half. I’ll need to be even more careful when I get there.

I looked back at the ocean, feeling an odd reluctance to leave the shoreline, though there was nothing there that could help me. Maybe I don’t want to leave the food. Stupid, I told myself. These nuts will be everywhere. And peaches, when I find them.